#Why does your medic always look like he needs sleep???

[the-insanity-of-mojiru]

Your honor, I think I have a type

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Pt 2

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[tbaluver]

I loved the “when you have a baby with them” fic, could you do one where you feel insecure about your body post birth and they reassure you? I love your work!! 🤍

When You're Insecure About Your Body After Birth- The Love And DeepSpace Men

warnings: mentions of body insecurities

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie!! im so happy to hear you loved that headcanon fic and my works! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) it always makes my day to hear you guys love them <3 i hope you and everyone else enjoys this one!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He would notice every time he tried to get close to you, you would find an excuse or completely avoid him. Anytime you would try to wrap his arms around you at bedtime, you would roll away from him so you're out of his reach. Your sleepy lover would not be able to sleep anymore without you in his arms.

He would be so confused on why you tried to avoid his affection. He would look it up on his phone, his search history filled with questions of "Does my lover hate me?" "Why does my lover not want my affection" All the answers he read online made him more confused and sad.

It wasn't until he watches you stand in front of the mirror, tugging at your clothes and grimacing each time you realize the fabric doesn't sit on your body like it used to before. You wouldn't notice that he was watching you, thinking he was asleep the whole time.

He would grow concerned every second and every minute as you're still fixated on your clothes and by the time he gets up from your shared bed, you're on the verge of breaking down. You avoid eye contact with him before he can even ask what's wrong.

His arms reach around your waist and he pulls you firmly into his body, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Honey, I can’t stand seeing you like this. What’s making you upset? I want to support you and make everything better.” He would say, kissing your neck before nuzzling into you.

Although your lover warms your heart, it doesn't stop your tears. Instead, you start to ramble about how you don't look like how you used too before your pregnancy. How your clothes don't fit you like how they used too and how you felt like you started to hate your body.

He would listen silently, letting you let it all out while he's continuing to hold you so closely. You let out a deep sigh when you finished talking, melting into his touch.

He would pepper you with kisses and promises you that every inch and part of you is beautiful and deserves to be loved. He'll continue to love on you as much as it takes for you to see you as he sees you.

"You're my everything. Every change is proof to your incredible strength and the beautiful journey we've shared. To me you're more than perfect and I'll keep reminding you of that every single day."

Zayne:

Zayne has always been and will be extremely attentive to you and your family. He's remembered your medical record and has known the smallest detail about you so he's already noticed the change on your eating habits. He'll notice you checking the packages to check the calorie counts and at first he wouldn't think much of it. He would think at first, you were maybe keeping track of your energy but he wouldn't brush this off.

He'll notice this has been happening quite often every day. Every time you want too cook something or order something or even get a snack, you'll always check the calorie count. So he decided to finally talk to you about it during dinner and ordering your favorite takeout.

As you chat and set down the dinner together, feeding the baby first, he’ll notice you putting only a small amount of food on your plate. It’s your favorite dish, so this seems unusual to him. "Is that all you're going to eat, my love?" He would ask, his gaze on you. You would look at him anxiously and tell him it was enough for you because you were on a diet but he would tell you that it wasn't enough and that you didn't need to go on a diet at all.

Tears would threaten to spill from your eyes when you would explain to him that you need to lose weight. You'd open up about your insecurities, worried that he might not find you as attractive now because you feel your body has changed after the pregnancy compared to how you looked before.

Zayne would get up from the opposite side of the table where he sat and made his way to your side. He would sit back down on a chair closest to you, hold your hand tenderly, and gently rub soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

“My love, you’ve only just welcomed a new life into the world and your body has done something remarkable. It’s proof of your strength and love, and its beauty goes far beyond just appearances.” He would say while pressing soft kisses on the back of your knuckles.

He hated to see you so upset like this, insecure and hating your body when to him you were the most beautiful thing in the world. He would do anything to show you how truly loved you really were.

"I promise you, you don't need to lose any weight. I think you're perfect the way you are. But if you don't feel confident in your body, then there are better ways to do it. I can help you and support you."

Rafayel:

He's called you a couple times to dinner but you didn't come down to the dining area. He's already fed the baby and put your baby down for a nap before he went off to find you. You stood in your shared bathroom mirror, poking and prodding at the pregnancy scar and imperfections on your body. Every single flaw became amplified in your mind the longer you looked at your figure contort in the mirror. You felt disgusted in your own body and wanted it all to disappear.

Tears would race down to your cheeks and you would feel strong arms wrap around your waist. You were met with Rafayel's reflection smiling right back at you until he saw the tears stain your face. He would gently turn you to face him, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist while using his free hand to wipe away your tears. "What's the matter princess?"

He patiently waited for you to talk as you tried to steady your breathing as he continued to wipe any more tears that came running down.

When you were ready to talk, you explained to him that you've been feeling insecure lately. The weight that you gained from pregnancy hasn't left your body. You haven't looked the same every since. A couple of your clothes don't fit the way they used too and it's all been upsetting you.

Hearing you talk so low of yourself broke Rafayel's heart. He hated that part of your brain. The brain that brings you down and makes you despise yourself. He desperately wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.

He began peppering your face with soft kisses, causing you to let out a laugh. He continued trailing kisses over your body and stopping at every area to tell you why he loved it. Your body was practically covered with kisses and praises from head to toe. Once he was finished, he brought himself back up and pulled you into a kiss.

"My love, you're like a breathtaking masterpiece to me. Every change tells the story of the journey we've been through together. You're still the same incredible woman I fell in love with, and you'll always be my beautiful, amazing wife. My one and only. I adore you more than ever."

He cups your cheeks gently and looks into your eyes with his warm gaze, "I love you, every part of you," He says softly. "If I could somehow transfer my thoughts and feelings into your mind so you could see yourself the way I do, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Sylus:

He would notice the signs but he didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet. You two would shower often before you gave birth. It was one of the intimate times you both shared. After birth, he noticed that you wouldn't shower with him anymore. Usually you would excuse yourself to watch the baby or say you would have already showered. You also wouldn't go out that often with him to auctions or any dates even if he offered Luke and Kieran to watch the baby. He figured maybe it's because you didn't trust them with the baby just yet, which is valid.

It wasn't until he finally got to convince you to go out tonight to an auction. He picked out a dress for you so he could match with you.

You stared at the mirror completely lost in thought. You hum dismissively as continued to poke at your skin. You analyze every stretch mark that appeared on your skin out of the dress. You'd turn every few minutes to check out your other angles.

You were so caught up in thought that the footsteps of your lover didn't alert you that he was in the room. He was leaning against the door frame, watching you for a while. He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You look beautiful sweetie." He says, placing a kiss on your shoulders and then one at the top of your head.

You'd frown and protest, feeling that you're not as beautiful as he says. You'd start to ramble about how the changes from pregnancy have made you uncomfortable with your appearance, tears welling up in your eyes. Realizing that tonight might not be the best time to go out, you'd suggest that he should go by himself instead.

He'd spin you around so you were now facing him. His large hands cupping your face as one of his thumbs wipe any tears running down. A finger on your chin made you look up at his crimson eyes and you can see the concern and honesty in his eyes as he spoke.

"Sweetie, you are truly beautiful. Your beauty isn't just in how you look but in the love and resilience you've shown. I see you, not just as my wife but as this remarkable woman who has given a gift and something truly precious. You are stunning, inside and out."

He would gently intertwine his fingers with yours, holding together as he placed tender kisses on your knuckles. All the while, he'd keep his gaze locked on you, with one arm wrapped lovingly around your waist.

"I know every detail about your body and I know it's perfect. I will continue to love you, every inch of you. And I'll remind you that every single day."

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fifteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader AO3 - 4.7k words Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse!reader, hospital setting, domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt, anxiety about sex. PTSD. Tiny bit of a panic attack. Tiny smidge of Simon's past if you know where to look. Comfort. Cockwarming. Barebacking, anal fingering, masturbation, praise kink, daddy kink. Basically the guys fuck while Bunny watches.

You’ve been having dreams about the hospital.

It’s always the same one.

You’re running a code with an intern and a fleet of baby nurses. No one is moving as fast as you are, no one is following direction. You’re on fast forward, they’re on rewind.

Every time, the dream starts and ends the same way. For some reason, you can’t see the patient’s face. You work on them for what feels like hours, and then only once it’s been called does the mental block disappear, you look down-

To see yourself.

Intubated. Bruised and broken.

Dead.

“Bunny.”

“Hmm?” You glance up across the counter, feeling the focus of Simon’s eyes before you see them.

“Everything alright?” Pen babbles ‘moremoremoremore’ while making the sign at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mimics Penny’s sign, and then gives her a yes, spooning more yogurt into her mouth.

“You’ve been standing in the same spot for the last ten minutes, staring into your coffee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry… I’m just a little… scatterbrained this morning.”

“Still having that dream?” It’s been a week and a half since it started, and a few days since you finally confided in Simon and Johnny it was bothering you. “Do you think it might be related to going back to work this week?” You shrug.

“Maybe? I don’t know… I’ve never dreamed of working on… myself.” His jaw flexes, and then he sighs.

“I’ve been thinking…” Penny squawks, demanding the attention of the room, and you pull some blueberries from the counter and put them on her plate. “My therapist is taking new patients. I don’t want to push you before you’re ready, but I’d like you to consider it.” The grimace slides onto your face without preamble. Sure, you’ve considered therapy in the past, but it’s a risk. Mandated reporting, paper trails, everything you don’t need.

“I don’t need therapy right now.”

“You have PTSD.” He says point blank, and you blink. Your mind fractures, little pieces twisting and turning, trying to knit together a larger picture.

“No- I- I’m not… it’s…” You’re a medical professional, don’t you know what PTSD looks like?

“It’s hard to see, in yourself.” Simon senses the confusion and tries to soothe it away, cool balm on a burn.

You suppose he’s not wrong. It’s not unrealistic, you having PTSD, but you’ve never been confronted with it. Never been forced to face the truth.

No one’s ever known you well enough, to see.

It stings. It stings for some reason, and you don’t know why.

“I’m sorry.” He stands, moving around the counter to stand in front of you. “I want to help you, bun, but I should have approached that differently.” You shake your head, relenting into the steady hand at your back, and tip your face into his chest. The confrontation of the truth aches, but there’s comfort in Simon’s touch, understanding, and you relent to it, drifting away inside his tender hold.

“What’s goin’ on?” Johnny’s close, appearing in the kitchen after sleeping in. He was deep in his own dreams when you woke up, sweet like angel in the clouds, buried in the pillows, and you couldn’t stand to wake him.

Simon rumbles something over your head. You can’t make it out, ear covered by his bicep, and you turn your head to peek, reaching for Johnny.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi.”

“Why don’t ye come lay down wit’ me on the couch?” He coos, stroking a hand over your hair. “’m not quite awake yet.” Simon gives you a squeeze, and you nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

Johnny holds you close. His nose in your neck, fingertips carefully tracing over your skin, heat at your back, he calms you, comforts you, lulls your stiff muscles languid. He’s so good at it, pulling and kneading until you settle, and it dawns on you he’s had practice.

“Would you tell me about you and Simon?”

“What do ye want to know?”

“What was it like… in the beginning. When you got together.” He kneads your hip, thoughtful for a quiet moment, and then takes a deep breath.

“He was difficult. Didnae wan’ to let me in, no matter how hard I tried. Had to corner him in his room on base just to get him to kiss me.” Johnny chuckles low, rubbing your shoulder. “Took him forever, to break down, let me see him, really see him, for the first time. I had glimpses, here and there. Moments in the field, on base, at the bar with the team when we’d decompress but… it took a lot of work. He tried to push me off, hide away.”

“Why?

“It’s his story to tell ye, bunny. An’ he will, in time.” He sighs. “He’s always been like this, strong, steadfast, more serious than me, but he buried a lot of things, deep. Always was very aware of it, jus’ not willing to show it to anyone else. Wanted to be a ghost.”

“But… he’s okay."

“He’s okay. Has some moments where he gets lost, still, but works through ‘em, wit’ me or on his own.” He kisses your neck, soft enough to tickle, and you shiver. “He’s really good at this, bein’ a da, takin’ care of a family. Treats us all like his little unit. I miss him too much when ‘m away. Pen too.”

“I’m sure.” His lips graze your shoulder, humming.

“An’ ye. When I go back, I’ll be thinkin’ of ye all the time.” When he goes back. The idea is chilling, a douse of cold water. It’s felt so far away, the idea of Johnny returning to his job, the thing that brought you to him in the first place.

“But that won’t be for a while, right? I mean, you’re still healing.”

“It won’t be for a while.” He assures, though there’s something in his voice, pinched and pained. You don’t ask, don’t push, choosing to close your eyes instead, nestled in his arms, safe.

“This is the worst.” You’re whining. You know you’re whining, know you sound like a child, but it spills out of you without stopping.

“I know sweetheart.” Simon screws the cap onto a travel mug, giving you a sympathetic smile. They’re both up with you, before the sun, listening to you moan.

You shouldn’t be going to work at this hour. You should be awake, puttering around, working your rhythm back to normal, getting oriented to working at night.

You’ve never hated your manager more. She insisted she was sorry, that she had no choice but to fill the overnight shift. She assumed, she said, the new nurse would want to go to days when you got back, but she’s taken a liking to it.

She’s taken your shift.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad? An’ ye’ll see me tomorrow when I come in for therapy.” That is an upside at least, knowing you’ll be able to see him, see them both, at work.

But the rest of it, simply put, sucks.

“We should probably get going.” Simon kisses Johnny goodbye, and you’re drawn to them, sidling up in their orbit. Johnny wraps an arm around you, mouth to your temple.

“Have a good first day back, bunny. I’ll be thinking of ye.” You turn, grazing your lips on his, and he seals the kiss, drenching it in care, sweetness.

“Bye.”

Simon walks you all the way to the door.

Your resistance at the initial idea slowly fades as the sun peeks over the city. It’s different with Simon at your side, the paranoia and rampant fear infecting the atmosphere wherever you go is farther away.

You trust him. You’re starting to believe they may be able to keep you safe.

He holds your hand for most of the trip.

It’s… nice. Once you make it to the door, he turns and tucks his fingers under your chin, holding your gaze like a magnet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” He presses his lips to your forehead, and you lean into it, eyes closed.

“Have a good day, bunny.”

Work is absolute hell.

Dayshift is so different from nights, and you have trouble adjusting. The turnover rate at the hospital is fairly high, so when you badge in and get started, you hardly recognize anyone.

Except, Marshall.

He’s standing outside the pit when you round the corner, devilish grin aimed at one of the nurses you don’t recognize. New probably. Sheep in a lion’s den.

You clear your throat. His head snaps up.

“Well, well, well… looks who back from vacation.”

“Marshall.” You greet, barely looking at him, tapping through your tablet. “I wasn’t on vacation. I was out on medical leave. Big difference.”

“Right.” He takes you in from head to toe. “Rotator cuff, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Surgical?”

“No.” The other nurse watches you with interest, before scurrying away when a bell chimes. “Still having inappropriate relationships all over the hospital, I see.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk.” Ice cracks across your forced smile. He smirks. “Heard you’ve got yourself two boyfriends.” You suck your teeth. Nia.

“Considering he’s no longer my patient, it’s hardly inappropriate.” With the best timing, his phone rings, pulling his focus, and you slip away.

Fucking asshole.

Simon opens the front door for you and is careful not slam it closed.

“Penny asleep?”

“Johnny’s trying now. We’ll see if he has any luck. She’s been fightin’ it.” The kitchen smells like garlicky lemon, and you peek over his shoulder to see a large saucepan filled with linguini, capers, and shrimp. Your mouth waters.

“That smells amazing.” He takes your bag from you and hangs in on a hook from the hall tree.

“Scampi. We remembered you said it was one of your favorites, and we thought we’d spoil you a little bit. Celebrate your first day back.” Your cheeks burn hot, and to your horror, tears build up through your nose to your eyes. His brows crinkle together. “Hey, what is it?”

“That’s just… it’s really nice. You don’t have to.” Someone celebrating something with you, for you, is alien. The memories of the beginning of your relationship with Phillip are long gone, twisted and gnarled into black rot. It’s how he charmed you, wooed you, brought you closer and closer until they all but faded and you were left with only the darkness. The vice grip of his hands. His satisfied, sickening smile every time you closed your eyes.

“It’s not a ‘have to’ thing, sweetheart. We want to.” He skates his fingers over yours, pulling them to his mouth. “I know it’s hard to get used to.” You’re a little bewildered by it, the care, the consideration, even the memory of something you mentioned off hand.

“I… thank you.” He kisses your temple.

“Go shower. You smell like a hospital.”

“This was so good. Thank you again.” Your hands are woven together under your chin, rich wine sauce still present on the back of your tongue.

“Aye, thank ye.” Johnny winks at Simon, who rolls his eyes.

“Here, let me-“

“I got it.”

“No, you cooked.” You protest with a pout as they both rise.

“Johnny, sit.”

“Can wash dishes, ye know. I’m not helpless.” A sliver of twilight passes over Simon’s expression, not quite darkness but still full of a looming shadow until he sighs, relenting.

“Alright.” Your lips purse.

“What about me?”

“Ye jus’ sit on the couch and look pretty, bun. Willnae take us more than a few minutes.”

‘Just sitting on the couch’ lasts for all of five minutes before you’re antsy, rolling to your feet and padding into the kitchen.

You stop dead at the corner of the counter.

They’re making out. More than making out, Simon is swallowing Johnny’s whines with big breaths, his hand down the front of his pants. You buzz, thighs pressing together without permission, spine tingling heat awakening in your blood with zeal.

“Ah, shite-“

“Shhh. Be good.” Simon admonishes, but smiles into the kiss, wrist working a rhythm in Johnny’s sweatpants. He pulls away, chin tilted, looking down his nose with an eyebrow raised, almost condescendingly, but still grinning. “Feel good? Just need some relief?” Johnny’s moan is strangled in his throat, and you’re about to turn the corner in the shame, mortified you’re essentially spying on them, when Simon looks at you like he knows you’ve been there the whole time. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” You whimper. It slips out, unbidden, and Johnny turns, forehead pressed to Simon’s cheek. His hips are trying to jerk into the grip that has slowed, and he groans.

“Si.”

“Relax.” Simon stills him, pulling his hand free. “Maybe bunny wants to play too.” You give them a nervous smile, butterflies building in your stomach. You’re scared, there’s no other emotion to describe it. There’s fear, bad memories, anxiety building in the back of your throat, but at the same time, desire pushes you forward. You trust them, and it’s reached a critical point. You want to try.

“I… maybe if we s-started slow… I’m not sure…”

“That’s okay.” Simon coaxes, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist, hand splayed possessively on his stomach. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Their bed is an enchanted place.

There’s love in it, beguiling affection that transfers to you, dots down your throat to your chest, your clavicle, ass pressed into the hardened swell of Johnny’s cock.

It’s enough to strike down your fear, pry you open, lecherous want infiltrating your mind, your soul.

Their dynamic is crystal clear. Simon is natural in his mastery of both Johnny and you, the leader, the maestro. His forbearance at slowly peeling you free, layer by layer, puts you at ease, calms you enough you let him take your pants off, leaving you in only your underwear and the t shirt you put on before dinner. He folds you up against Johnny, careful to mind his sore spots, the pieces still healing, lips finding the plush fold at your ribcage.

“Sweet little bunny.” He glides careful fingertips over your panties. “Can I touch you here?” You draw a deep breath.

“Yeah.” Johnny’s lips graze your neck, and he sweep up over your belly towards your nipples, under your shirt.

“An’ can I touch ye here?”

“Mm- mhmm.” You buck into them, sensation building between your legs, lust cascading to where Simon’s fingers slip into your underwear and down the seam of your pussy.

“You’re wet, sweetheart. Is this for us?” You nod, Johnny tickling circles across your breasts, playing back and forth, pinching and stroking gently.

They’re both taking it slow, cautious, and there’s one half of you wanting to rip into them, and vice versa, while the other half is terrified. So far, the reckless abandon side is winning, but when Simon grazes over your clit, the crest of your fear bottoms out in the pit of your stomach. Johnny flexes his hips, the weight of his cock between the curve of your ass, and the combination of it, the touch now overwhelming, stream of thoughts turning panicked and unstoppable like a bolder rolling down hill, steals your breath.

In the wrong way.

“S-stop.” You freeze, immobilized, muscles turned from molten lava to stone, eyes wide, lungs rasping. Simon immediately creates distance, while Johnny jerks backward, palm steady on your shoulder, but separated otherwise.

“Ye’re alright, bunny.”

“Take a breath.” Simon coaches, maintaining eye contact, and you nod shakily, anchoring yourself to Johnny’s tender hold. You manage a breath, not so far gone you’re spiraling, and it’s deep, without a hitch or a studder. “That’s great. You’ve got it.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, disappointed. You’ve let yourself down, let them down-

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He murmurs, understanding and slow. “We’re done. There’s no rush.”

“No!” You blurt. He raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I just… I don’t want it to end I’m just not sure I can… do it.” His head tilts, surprise contained with a slow smile, and Johnny hums.

“Do ye wantae watch, pretty girl?” You nod shyly.

“Is that… is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” Simon rasps, stroking your cheek. “Sit up against the headboard.”

The two of them move into position seamlessly, sweat and breath thick in the air, a wet fog blanketed around you. A bottle of lube discarded on the mattress, a pillow under Johnny’s hip to cushion him. He’s settled on his side, arranged carefully to avoid pressure on his injuries, and they both face you.

Simon kisses his neck, sucking urgent marks into his skin before he palms Johnny's ass, hard and then slips between his cheeks. You’re unable to see his hand, but when Johnny’s eyes go wide and he groans hoarsely, your clit throbs.

“There you go.”

“Simon.” He whines, high pitched and needy.

“Bloody tight, Johnny. Been so long since I’ve taken care of you, huh?”

“A- fuck, aye.” He presses backwards into Simon, and pants. The scene makes you drool, the eagerness on Johnny’s face, the slow movements of Simon at his back, his lips against Johnny’s cheek, neck, murmuring gently. You’re nearly shivering, ache screaming between your legs, and instinct takes over as your slip your hand inside your underwear. You’re slick, so wet it dampens your curls, and your fingertips slide over your clit, zaps of electricity echoing through your nerve endings.

Simon looks up at you through heavy lids, mouth obscured by Johnny’s shoulder. “Are you touching yourself sweetheart?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid it will come out a garbled mess. “You want to come when I fill our boy up?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Keep going.’ He orders, and then shifts, pressing his cock to Johnny’s entrance. Johnny moans, and your own hips jerk.

Simon pushes slowly, focused on Johnny’s face, cataloging every expression. “Y’alright?” Johnny nods, lip tucked into his teeth. “Christ. You’re strangling me.” He thrusts sharply, sealing his hips to the soft curves in front of him, and Johnny cries out in a high-pitched wail, eyes slamming shut. He fumbles with his cock, squeezing at the root, but Simon pulls him away. “Not yet, sweet boy. Need you to last for us.” You’re trapped in a shockwave that hasn’t quite reached shore yet, tension building with each swipe over your sensitive bud.

“Bunny…” Johnny rasps, and your apprehensions wane.

“Does it feel good?” you whine, and he nods, groaning. Simon builds his thrusts into an unrelenting pace and cups Johnny’s belly, stroking down, pushing against the strain of muscle there, Johnny’s eyes rolling into the back of head. You wonder if Simon can feel it, the pressure, the bulge of his hard cock, shoving deeper and deeper.

“Daddy-“ Johnny shrieks, and Simon’s mouth curls into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s right, good boy. Fuck… perfect little hole f’me. All mine.” He practically growls it, and you writhe, flicking down your pussy and back up, breathing hitching in a frantic pace. Johnny’s delirious, hands scrambling across the sheets, half reaching for you, half reaching for nothing. “Isn’t he perfect, bunny?”

“Ah- yeah.” Your tongue is numb, body burning. Sweat slicks down the middle of your back, and you ride your hand violently.

“Please.” He’s begging, frenzied, fingers twisting, and Simon reaches for his cock, wrapping his fist around his length. It doesn’t take long until Johnny’s back bows, and your toes curl. You hiss. They move together wildly now, a push pull in a frenetic dance, and your eyes slip closed, sinking into the slick sounds of Simon fucking Johnny open, Johnny moaning, whispers passed back and forth. Simon cups his jaw, tilting his face towards you, and they both watch, drifting from your eyes down to where you’re trying to make yourself come, clit swollen and throbbing.

“She’s such a good girl, isn’t she? Touchin’ herself, watching you take my cock.”

“Pretty girl.” Johnny slurs through his gasps, body shaking with the power of Simon’s thrusts. He’s close, judging by the fevered look on his face, little gasps and whines tumbling from his mouth. Simon squeezes him, thick thumb rubbing over his slit.

“Come, bunny. Be good for daddy.” Simon coaches, and you tighten, cosmic explosion streaking behind your closed lids, the same time Simon grits out something under his breath, jaw tight, tugging relentlessly on Johnny’s cock until he’s crying out too, cum splattering up his belly and chest, Simon milking every last drop from his cock as he lazily strokes inside him.

Immediately, you gasp. Shocked at yourself, but not scared. Not nervous just… emboldened.

They both read it on you, and Johnny’s head lolls with a satisfied, lazy smile. Simon pulls free, rubbing Johnny’s hip sweetly, ducking into the bathroom to get a towel. He cleans him up carefully, gently, and Johnny’ reaches for your hand. You don’t turn away.

And when Simon urges you to tuck in between them for sleep, you do. More than willingly.

“He looks good.” Hot tea wafts from the cup in front of your nose. You’re on break, somewhat, watching Johnny work through his last few minutes of physical therapy, his face broken out in satisfied smile. His biceps flex. “Really good.”

“He’s been workin’ out at home, a bit. In the garage.”

“He shouldn’t be pushing it.”

“I know.” Simon squeezes your good shoulder. “He’s okay, bun. He’s strong. A bit too stubborn for his own good sometimes, but strong.”

“Dada.” Penny smacks an open palm against Simon’s chest, and he covers it with his own, bouncing her slightly.

“Look, Pen. Is that your Da in there? Is that him?” The therapist smiles at Johnny and pats him on the back, rubs his shoulder down to his elbow with wandering fingers. She’s pretty, and fit, tight ass, tiny hips. A sliver of self-doubt, self-consciousness pokes at you, and then jealousy nearly turns you green. Simon cocks his head with a laugh. “Easy, bun. She’s just doing her job, you know.”

“What? I know that. I’m fine.” You immediately blurt, and it does nothing for your cause.

“It’s cute. That you’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “whatever.” He chuckles, and then starts to pass Penny to you.

“Can you hold her while I help him get his stuff together?”

“Sure, c’mere girlfriend.” You tuck her up into your chest, playing with her hair as she curls into you. “Sleepy huh? It’s past your nap time. I bet Dada keeps you up for an early bedtime tonight.” She coos. Her fingers tighten in the collar of your shirt.

And then a freight train rams itself in the deepest parts of your heart.

You lean against the wall to keep your balance.

This is not your baby, but she feels like yours. Her weight is familiar now. Her routines. Her signs and sounds.

It’s easy to close your eyes and imagine she’s yours.

It’s been days since you touched yourself in bed as Johnny and Simon had sex, and the scene, the desire, is burrowing itself in your brain.

You want more.

You want more so badly you wind up touching yourself in the shower, fingers stroking your clit until you're muffling a moan in your elbow when you come.

It doesn’t soothe the ache. You’re not sure what will.

So, when you’re done, and find them relaxing in bed, Johnny in boxers, an idea abruptly runs through your head.

Could you?

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” Simon raises an eyebrow. Johnny stops his sketching to smile.

“I um. I wanted to… see… or ask for something.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just… I was wondering if I could… sit on you.”

“Sit on us?” Simon’s brow furrows, but Johnny’s face lights up.

“Like, ye wannae sit on one of us?” He emphasizes the word sit, and Simon murmurs.

“Ah.”

“I just… I really want to… I want to move on.” The words take you by surprise. “I want to feel like a human again, like how I used to feel. Before I was like this. I think…”

“Taking back control of your body will bring you closer to healing.” Johnny looks at Simon, and there’s desperate sadness in their eyes. Their hands intertwine, gripping onto each other so hard it looks like it hurts.

The moment passes, gone like it was never there in the first place. Johnny turns back to you.

“Ye’ll have to sit on me, pretty girl.”

“But... your hip.”

“I can take it.” You nod. Not that you prefer one to the other, but you’re curious.

“Is there a reason why…”

“I’m too big, bunny. Especially if it’s been a while for you. We’ll need to ease you into it.” Johnny smirks, and you hide an excited shiver.

“Okay.”

You stretch yourself out with your own fingers at first, the process made easier by your orgasm in the shower, all the while both Simon and Johnny encourage you, coo at you, praise you.

You stay present. Focused.

“Take it slow,” Simon coaches when you straddle Johnny’s hips, “don’t rush it. Just take your time.” Hands on his shoulders, Simon reaches for his cock, sliding it through your lips, brushing your clit before angling it at your entrance. You take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

The first inch makes you whine. Johnny’s fingertips draw circles up and down your spine, his lips in your ear. “Good job, pretty girl. Just like that. Nice and easy.” Your eyes slip closed, and you take more, sliding down his cock, the burn of the stretch smarting tears in your eyes. Simon wipes them away.

“Our brave girl. You’re doing so well. Feel okay so far?”  

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye alright? Does it hurt?”

“A little.” You wince, taking another inch, glancing down. Your equilibrium pitches.

“Look at me.” Johnny redirects, head tilted back on a pile of pillows. “Jus’ look at me, bunny. You’re safe. I’ve got ye.” His hands guide your hips, keeping your pace even and slow, careful. Even when the anxiety invades your control, he steadies you. “It’s us, just us. We’re here, bunny. You’re okay.” The ache, the open sore spot spilling sticky, blackened tar, seals up. It's zippered shut, away from you, packed tight for another day. Another moment. The only thing you need to focus on is here, and now. With them. Johnny's jaw clenches. “Christ Si. She’s really tight.”

“I know.” He pushes some of Johnny’s hair from his forehead. “You’re both being so good. I’m proud of you.” The praise, the warmth from the both of him, glows in your heart. You’ve never felt so safe, so cherished, in your life. Again and again, they surprise you, teaching you how things you used to dread or shy away from can be enjoyed, valued.

This is how it should be. Love without fear. Intimacy without fear.

You’re fully split open on Johnny, stuffed full. It’s tender, calm in the low light of the bedroom, almost cozy. His thighs blaze under your ass, and the heat creeps like lava to your fingers and toes, turning you boneless, languid in his arms. Simon leans in to kiss your temple.

“How do you feel?”

“R-really full.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No just… stretched, I think?” You wiggle a little bit, and Johnny finally breaks eye contact, looking up at the ceiling with a groan.

“Try to be still bunny. We just want to get you used to the feeling. This isn’t about sex.” Simon's last comment earns Johnny a warning glance, and he nods, straightening.

“Right. Even though your perfect little pussy is drivin’ me mad-“

“Johnny.” Simon chides. “Bunny, can you lean forward for me?” His hand presses to the middle of the back, guiding you to rest your cheek on Johnny’s shoulder. “Good girl.”

The room lapses into silence that lasts, rhythm of your chest rising and falling syncing with Johnny’s, Simon humming, working a hand up and down your spine.

Up and down. Up and down.

You think you could do it now. Roll your hips and rise on your knees, sink back down to feel the pressure, the bludgeoning tip of Johnny’s long cock nestled at your cervix. You’re not sure, not confident, but somewhere in your dreams, you picture yourself milking him dry, riding his cock until you’re shattering.

“Si.” Johnny’s voice pitches to something you’ve never heard, low and heavily accented. “Will ye read?” Pages of a book flutter. You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed, but as Simon’s voice picks up a page with no pretense, you don’t fight it, allowing yourself to drift between them, cradled on Johnny’s body with a piece of him pulsing inside you.

It’s bliss. It’s love. You’re…. happy.

[waughymommy]

WM: Breastfeeding Kink & Diaper play

Disclaimer: all characters depicted in this story are consenting adults over the age of 18. If you are NOT 18 or older, Don't Read if UNDER 18

I startle awake from a throbbing pain in my breasts. Quietly groaning as I turn over onto my back not wanting to wake my sleeping little prince. My hand moves up to my big tits and oh god are they swollen. I’m not sure what’s been going on but for the past few days my breasts have been so tight and swollen and it’s just getting worse. I slowly begin to massage them in an attempt to ease the pain. “Oh fuck this isn’t helping at all” i whisper to myself. 

I pull my loose tank top away from my breasts and look at the swollen mounds. The only time I’ve ever seen breasts look like this were when my best friend breastfed her little in front of me… wait. It can’t be can it? There’s no way I haven’t even been taking the special pills she had to take to induce lactation! 

I open my phone to Google and type in “what can cause you to lactate?” I click the first site that pops up. “There are many things that can induce lactation such as Yada yada yada medications such a birth control… FUCK.” I whisper yell. I did not just accidentally induce lactation with the new birth control I’m on. Oh god we haven’t even had this discussion yet I’m not sure it’s even something he’d be into. But my breasts hurt so bad I need some relief. 

I get up from bed as quietly as I can and walk into the adjoining bathroom. I flicker the lights on and keep the door open just the slightest bit incase my little prince needs me. I look in the mirror and slowly pull my tank top down. My tits spring out all heavy and full. “Fuck” I hiss quietly as I press down in the swollen flesh.

I slide my finger down to my nipple and begin to stimulate it. A milky liquid starts to drip out and I almost can’t believe it. I moan as my finger squeezes some more out. Oh fuck that feels good. 

A quiet voice interrupts my ministrations “Mommy?” I look over to my left side and my little prince is at the bathroom door just in his princess t shirt and full diaper staring at my dripping nipples in wide eyed wonder. Fuck he looks so beautiful with his bed head and sleepy eyes. He rubs at his eyes and hold the door frame. 

“Mommy what’s that?” He points to the liquid still dripping from my hard nipple. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about baby boy just turn your little tush around and go back to bed. I’ll be right there.” I say as I walk toward him and turn him around with my hands on his shoulders walking him back to the bed. He throws his head back and whines lowly, “but mommy I’m thirsty das why I woke up!” He says as I set him down back in bed. 

He looks up at me and his eyes move back to my nipples and his lips part and drool seeps out. “Okay baby you just wait right here and mommy will get you a drink of water.” I move toward the door but he grabs my wrist and with those doe eyes of his staring up at me and says “But I wan mommy’s milkies!” He whines again. His tonight peaks out and he licks his lips. “I’m not sure honey we havent really spoken about this.” I say as I softly caress the side of his face. He leans his head into my hand and pouts. 

“Please mommy please I just wanna try and see what it’s like. If you don’t like it or If I don’t like it we always have our safe word!” He trues to reason with me. And he’s not wrong so what could be the harm? I’ve secretly wanted this so badly for the longest time. I sigh and smile at him and nod. 

“Okay sweetheart you won, let mommy get comfy in bed first.” He claps his hands in excitement and slaps a sloppy wet kiss on my lips. I laugh as I crawl into bed and settle against my pillows. I pat my lap for him, “come here sweetie and lay side ways in mommy’s lap. Put you head right there in mommy’s elbow.” I maneuver him a little till he’s sitting just right, I cover him in the blankets and turn the low lamp on. A soft glow covers the room as he looks up at me with his lips slightly parted. I can tell he’s just as excited as I am. My sweet little boy. 

“Alright baby boy open those pretty lips for mommy.” I hold my boob up and my nipple leaks as I pull it and drop it in his waiting mouth. His lips close around my nipple immediately and he begins to softly suck. It takes him a few moments to really get the hang on how to latch on but soon his tongue is working in overdrive and hes suckling away like his life depends on it. I a gasp at the strength of his suckling and softly run my hands through his brown hair. “Sweetheart mommy isn’t going anywhere you can drink slowly, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” He closes his eyes and the suckling gets softer as soon as he realizes I’m not gonna snatch my nipple away from him. I moan quietly as I watch him drink. 

He’s such a sweet little boy suckling on his mommy’s nipples. I slide my hand down to his diaper and rub at his diapee covered cock. It’s so hard. I won’t lie my panties have absolutely socked through at this point. The feeling of his tongue lapping at the milk from my tits is just so erotic. He moans as my hand continues it’s rubbing. 

His hand reaches for my other leaking breast and he begins to fondle the nipple. Pulling and clutching at it, the milk dribbles done his fingers soaking them. I can’t help but moan out at the feeling. “Oh sweet boy that feels so good. You’re such a good boy just keep playing with mommy’s nipples like that.” I say a little breathless. 

I slip my hand into his diaper and just as my hand reaches the tip of his little cock he begins to piss right into my palm. I laugh a little and look at him a she pauses his suckling. His cheeks flame red, “I’m sorry mommy I couldn’t hold it.” He’s so fucking cute. 

“It’s okay baby you can go pee when you need to you know that. It’s why you have a diaper on to be able to lose control over your bowels and bladder whenever you need.” His stream continues as it hits my hand and I press down on the slit it’s pouring out of feeling the force of it. His piss is so warm on my hand as it fills his already soaked diaper. 

He smiles and nuzzles my breast and begins to suckle again as he pisses in my hand. He’s so fucking sexy sometimes I can’t believe he’s all mine. 

My sweet little boy.��😍💦🥰

[sanguineterrain]

Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x reader inspired by the bulletproof vest scene from Criminal Minds? Maybe it's early in their relationship and they're fussing after hearing he's been shot. Maybe with an annoyed Damian breaking up their flirting?

(Here is the scene if you don't know what I'm talking about!! youtube.com/watch?v=C2bjYavXWec)

Haha this was such a fun prompt! Thanks for sending 🩷 I love prompts inspired by tv scenes

jason todd x gn!reader. minor injury, fluff, suggestive/implied nsfw, making out, implied timkon

****

Jason opens the door, looking extra comfy in his GU sweatpants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. His curls stick up in fifteen different directions, making him look like an overgrown chick.

You'd coo if your heart hadn't been in your stomach all night.

"Hey, ba—"

You launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The force of your embrace makes Jason stumble back a step. You suddenly remember his injury and reel back.

"Baby, what's goin' on?" His eyes are wide. Jason holds onto you, inspecting you right back.

"I'm so sorry!" you say, hands fluttering over his body. "Oh God, did I reopen stitches? Fuck, fuck—"

"Sweetheart." Jason places both hands on your shoulders and guides you away from the door. He kicks it shut with his foot. You both settle on the couch. "What're you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" You sit up. Jason rests his head on the back of the couch, watching you. "God, Jason, you got shot! I heard you caught fire this morning so I got here as quickly as I could. Did I reopen stitches? Be honest because I swear to God, Jay, if you lie to me about that..."

"Honey. Oh my love. Y'know I'm crazy about ya?" Jason holds your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks. He's smiling. "I got shot in my bulletproof vest. No stitches required. Who told you I got shot?"

You take his hands and hold them to your chest. "Well, I was listening to the comms 'cause I can't sleep when you have overnight missions and—"

"You haven't slept all night?" Jason frowns. "Baby, you need to sleep."

You scoff. "None of that matters, Jay. What I'm hearing is that you still got shot!"

"'S not a big deal, honest. Just a few bruises. Leslie wrapped me up, see?"

Jason lifts his shirt. His ribs are wrapped in an ACE bandage. You feel around for a secret wound.

"No blood?" you ask, poking at the edges.

Jason laughs and catches your hand. He kisses your knuckles. "No, sweetness. No blood. 'S just a little sore." He lets his shirt fall. You're only a little disappointed by the loss of his bare skin.

"Why would Bruce send you out in a bulletproof vest? Of all the stupid—usually you wear your armor! That's actually bulletproof! Vests are bullet-resistant. That's like saying Gotham rats are toxin-proof. Just because they don't die from the Joker gas anymore doesn't mean they aren't higher than kites when it happens."

Jason kisses your cheek. It turns your insides ooey-gooey. He's always so warm, so solid.

"Mm. I'll call Merriam-Webster tomorrow and relate your beef with 'em. And to answer your question, I was undercover, so no armor. But I am fine. Okay?"

"I'll be the judge of that, mister."

You hike his shirt up to his neck and pat down his chest. Jason honest-to-God giggles, which only encourages you. You pinch the soft skin under his biceps, then kiss down his sternum. He squirms, sliding so he's lying on the couch.

"Tickles," Jason says, letting you love on him.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm trying to conduct a very serious medical examination," you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I think I'll need a closer look at these."

You kiss Jason's right pectoral, and his face flushes pink like it always does because you know how sensitive he is there and how his sensitivity makes him shy. Your mouth grazes his nipple and a tiny grunt pushes out of his throat.

"'M just a piece of meat to you, huh?" He catches you with a hand on your hip.

You smile and nip his neck, careful of his bandage. Jason's breath hitches.

"Please, baby, show mercy. Want me to get on my knees an' beg? I will."

"Sir, that is highly unprofessional language for this procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to give you an oral exam to see what's causing that filthy mouth of yours."

"Yeah, I'll show you filthy," Jason murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "Let's see how filthy y'get when I—"

"Oh my God, stop."

"Todd!"

You freeze with Jason's mouth on your neck and your shirt rucked up. Tim and Damian are at the edge of the living room. Tim looks nauseous. Damian's mouth is shriveled like a prune.

You scramble off of Jason, mortified, and smooth down your shirt. Jason leisurely turns his head, still holding onto you. He sighs.

"What d'you brats want?"

"To erase the last sixty seconds from my brain," Tim says.

Jason grins, all teeth. "That can be arranged."

You roll your eyes. "We're sorry, guys. Did you need Jason?"

"Yes. Father wants you back at the Cave immediately for debrief," Damian says, glancing at Jason's exposed bandages with tangible disgust.

You tug down Jason's shirt. His mouth quirks briefly before he registers his brother's request.

"Oh, hell to the fucking no. I got back two hours ago. Tell him to fuck off."

"I think you tell him enough for all of us," Tim says. "It's just a debrief. Babs started timing him and he's been good about keeping them short."

"He can email me. I'm not going to the Cave for a damn debrief."

Tim squints at Jason, then you. "I see. You know, you're awfully energetic for someone who should be recovering. Leslie benched Dick the last time he overexerted himself."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be speaking about exertion after what you and Connor did at the Kents' fourth of July picnic last year, Timbelina."

Tim somehow turns more pale. Damian whips his head around.

"Drake? What is he talking about?"

"Nothing. C'mon, Damian, let's go. Jason can debrief later."

He hauls a protesting Damian out the fire escape. Jason waves after them.

"Uh-huh, take care now, bye-bye! Close the window on your way out!"

The window slams shut. You look at Jason, eyes wide.

"What...?"

He shrugs. "Brotherly blackmail. All in good spirit."

"I see. You really don't need to go? I can wait."

"Nah. Bruce can wait. I have a very important injury that needs tending to."

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jason kisses you. "Positive," he says against your mouth. "This is nothing. But I appreciate you worrying about little ol' me."

"I'll always worry about you, Jay."

He ducks his head and nudges your neck like a cat. "I know, baby. 'S why I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world."

[ms-fade]

Patch Up

Older!Luke Castellan x fem!reader. 18+ drabble.

Request: What about luke x reader (whatever Godly parent) but the reader helps out in the medic Station so he gets a little cut while training so he can get stiched up by her, which leads into him fucking her in the small cabin telling her "be quite or do u want everyone to know how much you love my dick" or smth along does lines 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Warning: smut content, dominate behavior, trying not to get caught, rough style f*cking, slight degradation, small chocking.

Many times he found himself underneath your hands while you fixed him up after his mistakes in training. You’d patch up every cut and bruise on his skin, even paper cuts he used to come and see you. He didn’t need medication for any of his “injuries” but who was he to deny his overbearing lust for you.

The first time the two of you hooked up was when you were wiping off the healed cut of dried blood from his cheek. His eyes glued to your face as if it could leave his life forever if he looked away. The way you parted your lips to focus on him in every moment made him think about it in the dead of night. You had caught him staring making you get a shy grin and pull away from him. Luke ended up kissing you without hesitation, and one thing lead to another with you spreading out on the bed.

It never stopped after that. He’d come in with a small wound, you’d take him in, he’d fuck you like a whore and then leave. Waiting until the next time.

However this time was different. The gash across his chest looked bad, needing a bit extra attention from you but he was alright with that. When you placed your hands on his bear skin it reminded him of each time you’d pant and claw at his chest or back. His cock became painfully hard watching you work you magic as your soft touch made his skin on fire.

And, like always he’d have you in his clutch within minutes of his seductive eyes.

Your pants pulled down to your ankles as his arms wrapped around your body pulling you back into him with every thrust. His cock pushing into your heat making you bite your lip to try and silence the sounds you were making, but hums and whimpers filled the room. His fingers dig into your skin making sure to leave his claim incase anyone else wanted to touch you.

“that’a girl,” his husky voice spoke near your ear as the hairs stand up from his breath, “taking my cock just like that, so easy every time.” his lips kissed behind your ear.

his noises weren’t loud but still made your stomach clinch and tighten from his low groans and hard breaths. everything about him made your pussy drip.

“No matter how many times I fuck you, you still can’t stay quiet?” his hand inched up from your chest to the base of your neck to give it a light squeeze. The tip of his dick hitting far inside you when he slammed himself up making a slapping noise echo.

“M’sorry.” You mumbled as your eyes stayed shut from the pleasure within your core. He fucked you so good that you craved it from the moment you woke up, from the moment you went to sleep.

“I bet you wanna get caught with my cock inside you, don’t you? Someone seeing how good you take me, how pretty your body bounces while I thrust inside.” it was hard to deny the fact that part of you was turned on at the thought of getting caught. but it was too embarrassing.

“I see that pout at your lips, that tells me you don’t want it?” his foot moved and started a new pace. he leaned forward to start nibbling at your lower ear, “then why does your cunt clinch when I say that, hmm?”

there was no fighting when your own body was telling the truth and he could read you like a picture book. every reaction your body made he knew about it.

“That’s right baby, cry while I fuck you so good.” His hand went from your neck to your jaw and held it tightly making you whine.

“Let everyone know how much you love my cock.”

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

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

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

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

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations. 

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude. 

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish. 

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye. 

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.” 

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so. 

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat. 

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react. 

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him. 

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning. 

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him. 

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much. 

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father. 

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her. 

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such. 

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons. 

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer. 

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those. 

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this. 

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed. 

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived. 

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself. 

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds. 

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously. 

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi. 

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?” 

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training. 

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms. 

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of. 

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good. 

It’s not good at all. 

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive. 

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps. 

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me. 

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway. 

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama. 

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot. 

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced. 

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness. 

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley. 

Clearly, that’s not the case. 

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions. 

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers. 

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak. 

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest. 

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth. 

It’s a spectacle, to say the least. 

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift.  “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish. 

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there’s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges. 

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered. 

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face. 

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way. 

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another. 

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close. 

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind. 

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does. 

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him. 

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime. 

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight. 

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He’s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own. 

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.  

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does. 

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats. 

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her. 

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years. 

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.” 

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her. 

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies. 

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice. 

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.” 

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her. 

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her. 

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her. 

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.” 

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack. 

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother. 

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.

[lunatic-pudge]

TF2 Mercs Green Flags (except it's very biased)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love my boys. Yes, this is biased and questionable. But this is meant to be cute and fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scout:

-Silly little goober, great person to be around when you need cheering up

-Golden retreiver boyfriend

-Can easily make you laugh without even trying

-Artsy fartsy

Pyro

-Cutie patootie who makes the cutest drawings of you two together

-Owns an Easy Bake Oven

-Master at baking, never-ending supply of sweets for you to indulge in

-Your biggest supporter. Would literally cheer for you if you rob a bank

Soldier

-Also your biggest supporter, will demand that other adore you as well

-Will let you own any pet you want no matter what the animal is

-Speeches of why you're the best thing to ever exist and how America is blessed to have such a beauty like you live there

-Will give you anything and everything you could ever want, like human ears. Definitely a good person to be if you like collecting weird stuff

Demo

-Precious baby boy is a major cuddle bug

-Def knows how to knit/crochet, will make you whatever you want

-Baby man likes learning about folklore/mythology

-He's essentially a big walking teddy bear. Perfect for cuddles, especially on a cold or rainy day

Heavy

-GIANT WALKING TEDDY BEAR

-Protective baby boy, big scary dog privleges

-Bookworm, can recommend a good book if you don't know what to read

-Perfect person to lay around and cuddle with, he can smother me any day. Dates at home are TOP TIER

Engie

-THE BEST PERSON TO GO TO WHEN YOU'RE HAVING AN OFF DAY HANDS DOWN

-Smart boy, can make you stuff that helps with day to day activities which is helpful if you can't do certain things to having a disability or something

-Dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, can't get enough of it

-Voice of an angel, will sing for you if you'd like. Can def sing you to sleep

Medic

-NERD, he's an adorable nerd! Let him ramble about his hyperfixations!

-Def a good pet owner, would kill someone if they don't take proper care of their pets

-Would make sure you take care of yourself, he's kinda like a dad that cares

-He's such a maniac. I can see him just secretly being up to no good all the time. And he's also very girlypop

-Putting an extra for him cause I can: Medic boobs. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

Sniper

-Sweet, precious baby boy who can do no wrong. He strikes me as someone who listens to EVERYTHING when it comes to music. He ain't genrephobic

-Also a collector of weird things. Likes making bone jewlery. Bone boy

-I just love the concept of him being feral? This is probably the weirdest thing on the list. Like there's the golden retreiver boyfriend (Scout), and then there's the feral boyfriend (Sniper). Literally acts like a cat, hiding away from people, hissing when people that aren't you tries to touch him, will demand attention/affection from you, ect. I need to make a more detailed idea of a feral boyfriend so work with me plz

-He would absolutely let you wear his clothes, thinking about how adorable you look. He'd do the same with your clothes if they're big enough for his lanky body. You two swap jackets in the winter time so you guys always have a piece of each other when you two are busy and aren't able to see each other

Spy

-I know a running joke is that Spy is a smelly French asshole, but I really do think that he wears some of the nicest smelling cologne out there. Expensive af colonge, but damn, it's addicting

-Smarty pants. Not just anyone can be a spy, it takes quite a bit of intellect for it. And not to mentions he knows multiple languages? Love it, even if I hate the French language with a burning passion

-Him having a good taste in fashion? He's gotta know what he's doing by wearing suits all the time. Not only does he look fresh af, but people always look so good in a suit, especially when it fits them. But please also picture him dressed in a more romantic goth aesthetic plz, okay I'll stop now

-Is good at paying attention to even the littlest of details about his partners. Even if you're trying to be cryptic or subtle about things, he'll always find out. He's def a protective type too

[pholla-jm]

Klutz

IMAGINE: KLUTZ ~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: established relationship. mention of blood. mention of broken bone ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud crash echoes through the submarine which causes Law’s head to snap up. Normally, one would think that something happened to the ship. But he already knows what happened. 

With a heavy sigh, he gets up from his chair and walks towards the source of the noise. He wasn’t surprised to see you frantically moving around. You were putting things away. Law could only best deduce that you had accidentally knocked into something and caused it to crash. And now you were putting everything away before someone noticed. 

“(y/n)-ya.” He calls out, causing you to jump and knock your arm into a shelf. You let out a small yelp before turning to your Captain with a nervous smile. “Captain, what brings you here?” “Thought I heard something.” 

You purse your lips and shake your head, “nope. I didn’t hear anything. Have you gotten enough sleep?” “Are you saying that I’m hearing things, (y/n)-ya?” The tone in his voice suggested that you shouldn’t be playing around with him. But you didn’t care. 

Your hands go up in mock surrender. “Hey, you’re the one that said it. Not me.” 

Law pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t you have things to do?” “Yup! So I’ll be on my way now.” You happily say before skipping past him. 

However, you trip over the bottom part of the hatch door causing you to face plant against the floor. You heard a soft crunch as soon as you hit the floor, causing you to let out a whine of pain. Law’s eyes widened when he saw you fall onto the floor. 

He doesn’t waste a second to pull you up from the floor. A free hand goes up to cover your nose, trying to relieve the pain that shot through your face. You immediately felt warm liquid cover your hand, signifying that your nose was bleeding. 

“How could you trip over that?” He was exasperated from how clumsy you are. If he was being honest, it was a bit tiring from how clumsy you are. He was also always worried about how you were going to hurt yourself next. 

You only shrug your shoulders at his question, “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t see it.” “Let’s just get your nose fixed.” “Huh? What are you talking about? It’s fine.” You try to convince him, but you already knew that there was no way Law was going to believe you. 

“There is blood dripping down your face.” 

You let out a disappointed sigh. Not disappointed in him, but in yourself. “Okay.” 

It didn't take long for the both of you to be back in his office. He had you sitting in a chair, with a towel to help clean up any blood. 

“Okay, (y/n)-ya. This is going to hurt a bit.” He mutters right before he sets your nose back into place. 

“Ow!” You yelp as you flinch away from Law’s hands. 

Law is quick to clean up any mess and bandage up your nose. “Take these,” he says handing you pain medication. “Thanks.” You whisper before taking them from him. 

Law crosses his arms before looking at you up and down. His gaze made you nervous, and you had no idea what he was about to do next. 

He notices that you were wearing a long sleeved shirt and pants. Despite how hot it was in the submarine right now, you were wearing clothes that would make you hotter. 

“Let me see your arms and your legs.” He commands. “Huh, why?” 

Law shoots you a look which causes you to pout. “Fine.” 

You pull up your pant legs and your sleeves. Law can’t say that he is surprised to see you littered with bruises. Most likely from your clumsy accidents. 

He shakes his head and goes to grab some ointment for your bruises. 

“You really need to be more careful (y/n)-ya.” He starts to apply the cool ointment to the bruises, holding back any winces that resulted from his touch. 

“I know. I’m trying, I really am.” 

Law hears the desperation in your voice and he starts to feel a little bad. But not too much. “Does it hurt anywhere?” “Mm, you know. This one on my arm really hurts. Maybe a kiss will make it feel better?” 

Law looks down at you with a look that shows that he isn’t amused. “That’s not how it works.” “I mean, you won’t know until you try.” “There is scientific evidence-” “But have you tried it?” 

It was quiet for a bit and you could tell the gears were turning in his head. “Fine.” He grumbles and leans down to place his lips on the bruised skin. You could see that his cheeks had a pink tint, but you enjoyed the sight and feeling in front of you. 

He pulls back, trying to hide the fact that he was flustered. “See, it doesn’t work.” “It totally does! It’s already starting to feel better. I think that you have to kiss the rest of them.” You cheerfully say while holding out both of your arms. 

His face goes entirely red this time. “Nice try. But we’re going back to the ointment.” 

“Awe,” you faux pout at his words. However, he ignores your pout and continues to treat you. 

“There, I think it’s best if you stay here.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. “Okay!” You say while making yourself comfortable. 

Law is relieved that you didn’t argue with him. 

The truth is, is that Law slightly enjoyed that you were clumsy. It gives him an excuse to keep him at your side. For him to keep an eye on you. It also brought him a sense of comfortability from how clumsy you were. 

He wondered why. But then he realized Corazon was also a klutz. Seeing you be a klutz as well reminded him of Corazon. It made his heart warm up from the familiarity. And he swore that he was going to protect you from every threat. No matter how small or large.

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (twelve)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, desperate gojo, addiction, overdose, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationship, some fluff, angst, teasing, profanity, arguing, written chapter, smau series

- 10.8k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

(previous)

“Shall I come over?” Satoru's voice over the phone is casual, as if suggesting the most ordinary thing.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Maybe... give you a massage? It might help.”

He can’t possibly be serious, “Satoru, I was just joking before-”

“I’m not.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt.

“But it’s so late?”

He huffs in frustration at your reluctance. “I don't care. I wasn't planning to sleep anyway. You're in pain. I can hear it. I'm coming over.”

“You don’t even know where I live.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you stretch your aching legs once more.

“Tell me.”

“You don’t need to-“

“Fine, I'll ask your manager.” He hangs up abruptly, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief with furrowing brows. Does he really think he can just waltz up in here like it's no big deal?

But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want a massage. His hands are huge, it would surely feel like heaven.

And you can’t lie to yourself and say that you don’t miss him. Because you kind of do.

But you know him, he’s always flirting. What if you really do end up falling for him from his stupid flirtiness?

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion as you try to massage your own sore muscles. But it’s futile and useless, your hands are too small, too tired, and too weak to press down hard enough.

Maybe you wouldn't mind if he massaged you. A free massage from the famous Gojo Satoru? Yes, please.

After around 7 minutes you hear a ring on your door, he's so fast.

You trudge over to your apartment door, rubbing your eyes as you do so. Once you open the door you see the tall man before you, looking down at you sympathetically.

He has a small bag in his hand with the medical plus sign designed onto it, “I told you, you didn’t have to..”

He sighs before he speaks "Yeah, I know. But you're in pain, I'm not just gonna ignore that, am I?” He holds up the bag in his hand, “Plus I bought some extra painkillers. The pharmacist said it's a stronger one to help with bone pain so... worth trying."

God, how cute can he get?

He didn’t need to do that, you already have medication for your disease at home, you’ve taken everything and nothing's worked. “Which ones?”

He pulls out the package, checking the name of the medication "Uh... This one- Naproxen sodium. Have you tried this one before?"

“Uhm.. I don’t think I can use that..”

“Why not?”

“I don’t usually take it.. I'm allergic to the stuff inside it.”

“Okay, I'll be right back.”

“Wait no it’s fine-“ but he’s already left, his long strides quickly placing him into the elevator as soon as you step out to stop him, and the doors have shut.

What is wrong with this man? You run your hand over your face, leaving the door open for him. Then you make your way to your couch, staring at the door as you wait, cracking your toes to relieve the pain.

He really did just drive all the way here past midnight to give medication, just to leave again and get another one.

Thoughtful.

He comes back, panting a little for breath, his hair slightly dishevelled as if he ran up a thousand stairs, “Okay, I’m back..” he says as he takes off his shoes then walks inside, closing the door behind him, the lock automatically keeping you both together, inside.

He crouches down next to you so his face is in your view whilst you stay sat on your couch. He’s so damn beautiful it's hypnotising.

There's a soft, tired smile on your face now as you look at him whilst he speaks, “I got you tylenol, they said it’s safe and can ease muscle pain. Is that okay?”

You chuckle looking down at him, “Yes, that’s fine. But I told you, you didn’t have to. Seriously.”

He huffs slightly, getting frustrated again, “For the 100th time, I know that I didn't need to come here. But I wanted to. Why can't you just accept that I want to help?”

“You don't accept mine.”

He sighs as he goes silent, instead placing the bag on the coffee table and walking towards your open plan kitchen, filling up a glass of water for you. “I'm sorry, okay? I know I'm stubborn about accepting help. But why can't you accept it from me just once?”

Because you don’t need it. You can do everything on your own, you always have.

There’s a difference between you and Satoru.

You don’t need help and do most things independently, because there’s no health risks and you know how to deal with yourself.

Satoru doesn’t accept help at all because he’s scared of showing his weakness, and he’s unable to manage his health risks, unable to deal with his issues in a healthy manner.

“Just let me play the caregiver or something? You're always trying to take care of me, so let me try taking care of you for once.”

“I could literally just go to sleep, it's not that serious.” Because it’s not, your muscles don’t hurt that much. Just a little, enough pain that you can cope with because you have been for years.

“It is serious,” He says, walking back towards you with the glass of water, crouching in front of you again. ���Just... just take the pills. Here.”

He hands you two pills and the glass of water, watching you carefully as you swallow them down.

Is he doing this out of guilt?

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the table for you, then helps you to stand up, his large single hand on the small of your back guiding you back to your bedroom in silence.

You can’t say you want him to stop and leave you alone, even if it’s out of guilt. It feels nice, being cared for by another man after so long.

Did Naoya ever care for you like this? You can’t even remember. All you remember is how he sounded when he yelled, and how it felt to have his rough hands knock against your fragile skin.

Gently, he sits you on the bed, his hand still on your back as he looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze and look down instead, a little shyness growing within you at his stare.

“The pharmacist said the effects of the pills should kick in after a while. Do you still want that massage?”

Oh my god he’s serious. You were just joking… or were you? A massage doesn't sound too bad, especially when it’d be from him.

You can’t even make your own decisions when it comes to him, he's got that effect on you. This isn’t normal for you. You’re always able to decide on things, but when it comes to him.. fuck he’s messing your mind up!

“Uh.. well.”

“Is that a yes?” He says, his face leaning closer to the side of your cheek. His warmth brushing onto your skin and you shiver ever so slightly, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you be uncomfortable. The pills may work or they may not, you'll be uncomfortable until then either way, so let me try something to maybe make that discomfort a bit less intense.”

Oh, so now he’s somehow educated on health?? But not with himself?

“Go on, lie on your back and I'll massage you.”

Okay.. you will.

You lay on your back, looking at him tiredly as he looks at you with nothing but a tender care in his eyes.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“Down here..” you point at your legs and then your ankles. Your eyes notice his Adam's apple bob up and down, swallowing. You have to hold back your laugh because this whole situation is just so unrealistic, but he’s the one that suggested a massage. It's not your fault if he feels nervous.

He lifts your silk nightdress up slightly so it reveals your knees, fingers brushing over your skin like a feather making you tense up just, but not enough for him to notice.

“Right, so I'll start here then, yeah?” His hands are gently placed and wrapped around your left calf, “I'll be gentle.”

“I’ll be so gentle..” Get that reminder out of your head. You’re not in the car, he’s not hovering over you, you’re not going to fuck again.

You feel him knead into the tense muscles of your legs and you face slightly and exhaling heavily at the pain as he carefully continues working.

“Bear with the pain for a little more, ‘Kay?”His voice is so soft right now, so soothing and calm.. you want him to talk more, you want his breath against your skin as he speaks, want his hands to never leave your skin.

Oh god, stop it.

You don’t want that. Or do you? No idea. You’re still too scared to get into another real relationship after Naoya. You’re still scared of the issues behind Satoru’s addiction.

Not scared as in you’ll hate him and run away from fear, scared out of worry, scared that he’d slip away from this earth because of his addiction.

It just seems to be increasing the pain in your muscles.

Gojo Satoru POV

My eyes glance over to her toes curling up, cracking the pain away. They’re so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Every inch of her.

I should write a song about her, one day. I will. I’ll do just that.

I keep up the massage, applying a gentle but firm pressure to work the sore muscles, moving down her legs to her ankles. Her damn skin.. it’s so.. so smooth. Oh and that dress. That simple silk nightdress she’s wearing is so damn beautiful on her. She’s going to drive me mad.

She already has, she’s driven me mad already and has no idea.

My eyes then glance over to her bare face, relaxing.. breathing heavily with slightly furrowed brows, her breath letting out small sighs of relief, hoping this is a good sign that I’m actually doing something positive. “Helping?” And she nods at me, relief washing over my body almost immediately.

“Let me try the other one now, alright?” I move my hands over to her right leg now, working from the ankle to the knee, “Tell me if it hurts too much though.”

“No.. feels good.” She says, eyes shut in bliss.

“Shall I do your thighs as well?” She nods again, eyes still shut.

I swallow down painfully, my mind momentarily distracted again. I have to silently curse myself because I can’t seem to stop my mind from being distracted by her, which I know is stupid when she’s in pain and I’m supposed to be here to help.

But it’s a little hard to focus when it comes to her.

Gently, I lift her nightdress more up, I don’t know why my breath hitches. We’ve had sex before, but the car was pretty dark, I couldn’t see her skin this clearly.

After my palms begin to massage into the flesh of her thighs, she begins to stretch out and groan, and fuck, my thoughts just become even more distracted. My body wants to do things it shouldn’t be doing when she’s in pain. I try to keep my focus and speak through clenched teeth, “Does it hurt when you stretch out?”

“Just hurts.. I don’t know.”

“Just lie still and let me try easing the pain out..”

I carefully start to massage her inner thigh, kneading the muscles to try and ease the pain, my fingers gliding over the smoothness of her skin, fighting the urge to let my thoughts drift off to something sinful, but they already are.

Stupid.

But she just looks so damn enticing like this, she feels so amazing under my skin.

I want to feel her like this forever.

As she continues to let out sighs, I move my hands towards her hips, using both hands to knead the muscles, trying my hardest to keep focus.

Honestly, I’m so stupid for suggesting this, I’m already sweating just a little from looking at her like this. All laid on the bed for me to touch her skin.

I just want to kiss every inch of her delicate skin, from her head to her toes. And I want to kiss her slowly, sensually, to savour the moment, to show my love.

My mind grows hazy as I massage the top of her hip and the sound of her breaths growing heavier, my mind becomes lost in the feeling of her skin under my fingers, the sight of her figure and my urges only grow stronger.

God she’s so perfect, is it insane for me to see a future with her already?

“Does it hurt everywhere?” I ask, and she nods again.

“Everywhere? Your whole body?” And she nods again as I continue to push and knead the bottom of my palm against her tense muscles.

I know I should be doing this to help ease her pain, but my mind can’t help but admire her like this. When I push down hard enough to make her legs twitch.

I can’t help my feelings. Can’t help this magnetic attraction towards her.

It’s cute how she scrunches her facial expressions and furrows her brows, but I hate that she’s in pain right in front of me yet these are the sinful thoughts my mind wants to run to.

I just want to touch her more, to massage her with my lips and kisses instead, to tell her how beautiful she is, to tell her how I feel every time I’m near her. To tell her how I feel when she’s not near me.

But I have to hold back these urges, knowing she’ll just shut me down because of that damn contract.

How is this all fake to her? How is this all normal? Is this even a fake relationship between us both?

How?

The way she groans out ever so slightly as my hands knead firmly down on her hip bone makes it harder for me to keep myself in check.

What are you doing to me sweetheart…?

My body wrestles with itself, her body twitching a little under my hands and the faint sounds of her pleasure as I knead against the tension in her bones are too distracting to focus on the real task at hand.

Sighing, I desperately grit my teeth for something to hold on to whilst my hands continue their ministrations.

“Fuck.. fuck it’s killing me.. I’m sorry, the massage isn’t helping anything..” She groans out, eyes squeezing shut and back open again as she sits up.

“It’s okay.. I’m just sorry that I haven’t been able to actually ease your pain. Does this usually happen?”

“Thanks it’s okay, and yeah it does.”

My poor, sweet girl. I’d do anything to take it away, anything she’d ask me to do. I’d do it.

Apart from fully getting off drugs, I’m not so sure about that.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels like.. like a big boulder being pushed down onto me.”

I watch as she cracks her toes, wrists and fingers again, noticing how she flexes and curls them in pain.

My eyes analyse every small, faint wrinkle in her knuckles, the gloss of her baby pink nail polish, the way her nails are curved rather than sharp or squared or broken. I stare in admiration for how well kept her hands are.

Beautiful.

Every inch of her.

Nothing could ever make me change my mind on that.

That day I had seen her at the celebration party for reaching 100 million views, she had already caught my eye.

The way her hair hung from her shoulders, the way her posture was always so upright and perfect, the way I could see her eyes glistening from a distance, the way the corner of her lips were always upturned, always smiling at anyone who’d talk to her.

I could see the shine of her skin back then from a distance, and I can still see it now, even when she’s in pain and not doing so well.

She always manages to keep herself looking her best, always so elegant in everything she does.

When we talked to each other whilst she congratulated us for our success, her voice was so smooth and soft, so sweet and gentle.

I just wanted to pull her into a private area and make love to her.

But I didn’t.

I should’ve made a move on her back then.

She didn’t come to our other celebration when we hit 1 billion views, I still don’t know why. Did they even invite her? Did she decline? Did she purposely not come?

But it’s okay, fate seemed to have brought us back together over my scandal and although we barely know each other it feels as though I’ve known her since I was a child.

It feels like I’ve always known her.

This magnetic pull towards her is too strong, too strong for only a week of being in this “fake” relationship.

“Does anything help with the pain?”

“.. I usually hug my teddy. It sounds childish, I know, but I threw it away so.”

Oh you sweet girl, it doesn’t sound childish at all to me, it’s cute. Just another thing to add to my list on why I like her.

“Why'd you throw it away?”

“My ex gave it to me.”

A hint of jealousy slithers into my mind almost immediately at another man, but he’s your ex, so it’s fine, right? I end up clenching my jaw anyway, “Well, you don’t want anything that reminds you of him.”

“Nope.” She says casually, popping the ‘P’ and I don’t miss the way she avoids eye contact with me at the mention.

She lays back down and I place the bottom of my palm on her lower abdomen this time, the only thing separating my hand from her skin being the thin material of her clothes. “Why’d you break up?” I question as I begin to knead into the area, causing a gasp to escape her pretty lips.

Oh. A sensitive area.

Oh fuck.

I continue to push down and knead into the area casually, repeating the question like normal but with a little bit of jealousy and curiosity, “Why’d you break up?”

She’s panting now, eyelids fluttering as she scrunches her face, “That.. that area’s sensitive.” She gasps out, squirming and twitching her legs.

“Sensitive?” Oh, I know that, but I can’t seem to stop, I just continue, pushing harder and eliciting a groan to come out those plush, tainted lips again.

Those lips I want to taste with a lick when she has a sweet drink. Those lips I so badly just want to bite, kiss and make sore. Those lips I want to feel nibble every freckle and line on my skin. Those lips I so badly want to wake up to every damn morning.

She moans.

She moans out a whine, squirming more as I push down even further beneath her stomach.

It felt like something had snapped inside me as I heard her, the sight of her body moving and twisting under my hands, the sound of her small moans and whimpers, all working together to drive me absolutely crazy.

Crazy.

Her moans are like music to my ears, almost intoxicating. Almost like a drug that I need for myself at all times.

I can’t help myself. Can't control myself.

What’s happened to me?

Now I place both hands on her beneath her stomach, moving the bottom of palms up and down into her tight muscles, too focused on enjoying seeing her body jump and twitch under my touch, the sound of her whimpers and whines getting more and more intense, almost forgetting that this massage was to ease her pain.

I lean my head down as I continue, my face inching closer to her ear, “Sensitive, u said?” I whisper, a subtle smirk playing on my lips.

I can’t hold back anymore, she makes it too damn hard for me to do so.

How could anyone possibly hold back from her beauty? From her sweet and kind heart?

“Satoru, you idiot!” She yells through a whine, face scrunched in pleasure and annoyance and it only fuels me further.

Oh, kind.

I know I’m acting stupid right now, but I’m enjoying myself way too much sweetheart.

I admire the way her body jumps and the muscles twitch as I push into her lower abdomen.

Shit.

I continue pushing and kneading my fingers down below her belly button, my other palm flat on the mattress beside her arm as I looms over, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she whines and squirm, “Like this?”

“You still didn’t tell me why you broke up with him.”

Oh, she doesn’t even respond to me! Too filled with the sensations I’m giving that she whines to, small whimpers escaping too.

I love the sounds she makes, “Answer me,” I say firmly, “You still haven’t told me why.”

I circle and press down the pads of my fingers in a quick pace on her lower abdomen, her moans getting louder and louder. “Tell me.”

“Y-you don’t need to know.” She finally speaks through a gasp but it only makes me clench my jaw, jealousy hissing through my veins. Is that love? It has to be.

It is. I know it.

I am in love with her.

I’ve never felt like this about anyone, it has to be love.

“I do. I want to know.”

Her hips and legs jerk, and I smirk.

I’m so lost sweetheart, my mind and body are at complete loss at this point, my thoughts going crazy each time her body arches and twists slightly under my touch, everytime she gasps or whimpers when I push my fingers down onto the area.

She’s so high off my massage that she can’t even get up.

God.. she always seems to tense up or shiver when I touch her. What does that mean?

What am I doing?

“Satoru- S-stop massaging that area you dick!” She moans out through a whine, panting heavily.

But I can’t help myself, I press my fingers down, knead and release again, continuing as I knead down and she’s still gasping and panting, “Does it not feel good?”

A thrill runs into me as she moans louder and I press harder against the sensitive spot, “You love it, don’t you?”

“That’s enough..”

“Really?” But I press down again, and she’s moaning again.

She lifts herself up on her elbows, panting breath, parted lips half lidded eyelids, furrowed brows.

Beautiful.

“Look, you're getting all worked up over a simple massage y/n.”

I knead deeper into her abdomen again, watching as her body lifts up slightly, the small groan escaping her lips.

“What if we had sex again?”

“What the hell!”

“I’m just kidding..” Too far?

“Are you still high on that.. that fucking heroin?”

“I did take a lot sweetheart, but I’m not high.” I don’t stop my massage, even if she’s lifted herself up.

“Fuck- stop it.”

“But I think I’m getting addicted to how you sound.” I say as she lays back down again, her body obviously too weak to hold itself up whilst I continue kneading deep into her sensitive area.

“I’m not.. a fucking drug.” She says through gasps. Oh but she is.

I chuckle as she speaks, all flushed from just my hands, “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m feeling pretty goddamn high right now. You're acting and sounding like a drug right now.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She says, staring at me with confusion and annoyance across her face.

Oh god, I know I’m not making sense but I simply can’t get myself to care anymore, I’m too lost.

I smirk as I speak, staring into those beautiful eyes of hers, “It means that you’re just as mind-numbing and addictive as a drug.”

“You're speaking through lust ‘cause.. you’re high.”

I chuckle, shaking my head slightly, my heartbeat knocking against my chest. “Its not lust.. You probably don’t realise but you really do drive me insane and numb me at the same time. It’s weird isn’t it? Having known each other for only a week yet I feel so much towards you y/n.”

I don’t care anymore, I’m saying what’s on my mind. I don’t care.

I have to, I can’t hold it in anymore.

I love her, I know I do.

“Shut up.. you don’t mean any of that.”

How can she say that? Such a clueless woman lost in denial.

“Oh but I do sweetheart. I mean every word.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows again, is she going to kiss me?

Oh.

I jerk slightly once her palm reaches my cheek harshly, it was the last thing I expected, really.

A slap from the woman I love, why did I love it? Why do I want to feel it again?

Why did she even slap me? Did I go too far?

“You can do that again if you like” I say, half amused.

But her gaze on me is sharp, “Stop it, Satoru. I’m being serious.”

The sound of my name leaving her lips only makes me smirk more, it just sounds so perfect. Like my name was made for her to say, and only her

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” I chuckle slightly as I move my hands away from her skin, “But why do you have to act so goody two shoes about this whole thing? It's not like anyone would know. I mean nothing happened after we had sex in my-“

“Because!” She cuts me off, sitting properly now.

My eyes narrow as I stare at her being unable to give a proper explanation, “Well? Because what?”

“We don’t know each other.”

“But we do know each other.” I can’t help but feel ticked off, we do know each other. We do. I know her, I’m sure of it.

“You're moving way too fast..” She sighs out, palm on her forehead.

“I don’t really care if I’m moving too fast. So what? I like you, do you like me?” It just slipped out, is that how I’m going to confess? It sounded shitty.

I need to do better.

“You’re so unserious. This whole relationship is to fix your image because you..” and you nudge your finger into my chest, “.. got caught doing drugs.”

Fine, I’ll be serious, sweetheart.

Just like you want.

My jaw grits at her words, frustrated. Mainly because she sounds so serious and uptight about this whole thing, and I can’t tell whether she dislikes me or is genuinely concerned because she cares.

“Yeah, I was caught doing drugs, so what? That’s my own goddamn life y/n. What right do you have to tell me what to do?”

She sighs, moving to lean against her headboards. “You just took everything I said the completely wrong way. I’m saying, you’re moving too fast. This relationship is to fix your image and for me to help you. That's all. Not for sex.”

Did I make it seem like I only want her for sex?

I look at her, she’s only here to fix my image. That's all.

“So you don’t care about me do you? You’re only here for me because of some stupid contract?”

“What? That’s not what I said.”

I scoff, trying to maintain my composure, “Then what are you saying? You’re only here to fix my image is that all? So you don’t actually care about me?” Here, I thought she would’ve liked me back.

Maybe I am thinking too far ahead of myself.

God, you’re so stupid, Satoru.

“I am here to fix your damn image, and because I do care, I wouldn’t have tried to save your fucking life a couple hours ago if I didn’t care.”

I look at her for a moment, my eyes scanning and studying her face to look for any signs of lies, any sign that she’s not telling the truth, but I can’t find one.

“You’re only here because you care.. because you care about me.” I say to myself slowly, my anger slowly disappearing as realisation finally sinks in.

“Not for sex.” She says.

I scoff jokingly, a small smile on my lips. Oh sweetheart, I know that. I’d never see her for just sex, is that what she thinks? Is that what I sound like? A sex freak?

“Yeah, yeah I know not for sex.” My tone switches from being light-hearted to serious, my eyes staring into yours, my words soft but firm, “And you care. About me.”

She stares back at me with confusion, and I just stare back with admiration behind my straight face. “You care. About me.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Of course I care about you I’ve been trying to help since the start.”

My lip curl up into a smile, a strange warmth going through my body, “Yeah you have, but I wasn’t sure if you cared about me because I was addicted or if you cared about me as a person.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Well I wasn’t sure if you were trying to help me solely because I’m an addict or whether you have feelings for me.”

“I don’t have feelings for you, Satoru.”

Her face is emotionless, my lips falling back into a straight line.

Don’t lie to me sweetheart.

“Right.. you don’t.. right..”

She sighs again, “Didn’t we both agree that hookup was meaningless?”

I looks into her eyes again, my mind completely scrambled as I looks for the right words to say. I don’t want to admit that I’ve been feeling something since the beginning if she’ll just shut me down like this. But it’s getting so hard to deny.

Why should I deny it anyway? I know how I feel.

“Well.. no, no it wasn’t meaningless to me.”

“Well it was Satoru. I’m sorry.”

I can’t help the gritting of my jaw at her words. My heart is starting to hurt now. What is she doing to me.

“Fine, it was meaningless. But tell me, how do you feel about me?”

“I see you as a friend, that I need to help, and that I worry about.”

She keeps denying.

Keeps. Denying.

“Just a friend? Nothing more?”

She nods, looking away.

She’s looking away, she’s looking away from me. She doesn’t want to face me.

She doesn’t want to admit it.

I know her. I’m sure of it.

But fine, keep denying it.

“Right.. just a friend. Got it.”

She continues to refuse to meet my eyes again, the both of us sitting in silence for a moment.

But it hurts, to have her deny like this. It feels like my heart is being stabbed a thousand times at her denial, it’s overwhelming.

The room feels as if it’s closing around me and all of a sudden I need to leave. “I'll go home, it's late. The tylenol should have hit and eased your muscles by now.”

I stand up from the bed and begin walking out the bedroom, wanting to get the hell out. It’s so suffocating.

“..I’m sorry.” She says quietly from the bed as I reach her door frame.

My feet stop in their tracks. I don’t say anything straight away, keeping my back to her, clenching my jaw and gripping my hand into a tight fist, trying to contain myself.

“Don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Why does she always apologise?

My feet continue walking, heading towards the entrance of her apartment.

But my hand stops on the door handle and I pause. I stand there silently for a moment trying to understand what I’m feeling. A wave of mixed emotion overcome me.

I’ve never felt so many powerful and confusing emotions all at once, and it isn’t till now till I fully realise that all I want right now is to turn around and grab her and pull her back down onto the bed in my arms and to kiss her senseless.

The drugs.. they’re still in my system, it’s messing my mind and I need to be near her to calm me down.

But I can’t. I can’t calm down.

I love her, I can’t bear to let her go like this. I need her to give me a chance.

I need her to realise she likes me too, even if it’s not love.

Because I know she feels something towards me too, I just know it.

I need to do something.

I stand there for a moment longer, wrestling with the thoughts inside my mind, but eventually decide to throw all my restraint out the window. I can’t take it anymore sweetheart. I just can’t.

You’ve driven me crazy, and I need you to know what you’ve done to me.

I quickly turn around walking back towards her bedroom, she’s stood there, head down and about to shut the door before I stop her.

I need to confess to her properly, maybe then she’ll truly understand

My fingers quickly take hold of her wrist, tugging her towards me causing her to stumble against my chest, a desperate look in my eyes as I stare into hers full of confusion.

Oh god, she's just so.. so beautiful. So precious. So perfect. I can’t let her go like this. I can’t just be “friends” by contract.

“What the- Aren’t you leaving?” She says, staring up at me wide eyed with furrowed brows.

But she’s not pushing me away, she’s not writhing her arms telling me to let go of her.

Just as I expected.

I know she feels for me too.

My body towers over her as I look into her eyes with desperation, “I can’t.”

“What? Satoru get out.” She says, calmly. She’s so precious.

Ignoring her command, my hands take hold of both her wrists, pulling her closer, her body pressed against mine.

“Please y/n.. Please...” I say quietly as my breath brushes against her skin. I can feel her heartbeat, it’s so rapid, just like mine.

I hold her wrists tighter, needing her closer to me, needing to feel her body against mine, the pain in my heart is becoming too unbearable.

I bury my face into her neck as I wrap my arms around her waist, inhaling her heavenly body scent and relishing in the feeling of her body against mine. I allow myself to feel as much as possible, the pain in my heart slowly disappearing as I realise how addicting it is to feel her in my arms, how she smells, how she is.

The feeling of her warmth calms me, almost like a sedative.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t push me off her, doesn’t tense up, but I feel her shiver, I feel the flutter of her skin and I hear the hitch of her breath as I nuzzle into her neck further.

My grip around her waist tightens. It feels like I’ll never get the chance to hold her again like this. My mind is numb, only filled with nothing but her smell, the feeling of her body, the sound of her breathing.

I can’t let her go, I will never let her go.

“Please.. Can’t I be selfish just this once? Just this once.. please.” I just want to hold her, to feel her. That’s all. Just to hold her and for her to hold me back.

“You already are selfish.”

I pull my head away from her neck and stare into her eyes again. I’m silent for a moment, but eventually speak again in a soft, pleading tone, “What? ‘Cause I take drugs?” And she doesn’t respond, she doesn’t look at me. Averting her gaze elsewhere.

“What does that have anything to do with this? How does that have anything to do with me wanting to be greedy with you right now?”

“You're acting on being high you’re not sober right now-“

I scoff in slight disbelief at her words. My heart clenches.

She’s telling me that I’m only holding her like this because I have drugs in my system, that I wouldn't be doing this if I were sober.

That's not true, I know that I’m sober enough, enough to know my own feelings at least.

I love her. I do. This has to be love I’m feeling because I’ve never felt such intensity towards anyone else. I’ve never acted intensely when it’s come to anyone else.

“You don't know if that's why I'm doing this.”

“You literally overdosed earlier, they’re in you, you’re high.”

“Yeah.. Okay? And? That doesn't mean I can’t think clearly right now. I’m sober. I know what I’m doing.” Oh, if only she knew the reason why I overdosed.

God she drives me mad.

“No you don’t Satoru. Go home already.”

I scoff again, my arms instinctively tightening around her further, my body refusing to release her from my hold. The feeling of her body against mine is so damn addictive and I can't get enough of it.

“I'm not going. I'm too selfish, remember?”

The feeling of her body against mine is driving me crazy but numb at the same time, my mind consumed with nothing but the need to have her closer and closer, the more I can feel, the more I can breathe her in, the better. I just want to melt into her.

I bury my face back into her neck, nuzzling into her skin, inhaling her scent and the moment I do, it’s as if I just snorted something so mind numbing it’s made me go haywire.

I can't help it, I can't hold back anymore. God, I need her so bad. I need her to understand how I feel, how mad she drives me.

I need her to understand.

I push her against the wall of her bedroom, trapping her between the wall and my body, my hands grip her hips now, my face so incredibly close to the warmth of hers.

Our hearts beat and knock against each other, our heavy breaths colliding.

“Satoru I’m being serious we can’t.. the contract..”

I’m getting tired of hearing her mention that damn contract or the fact that this is a fake relationship, the more times she says it, the more my heart feels like it's being stabbed over and over again. I just want to just hold her and never let go.

I stare into her eyes with sadness and desperation as I speak quietly, “But I'm being serious too. why can't I just have you..?”

“I don’t feel anything for you so stop it now!” She yells into my face.

I freeze, my eyes full of desperation but still unwilling to give up on her because I know she feels for me. I just know it.

Gut feeling.

Reader POV

“I’m being serious..” You say, a slight hesitation in your voice.

What does he even want?

He keeps staring into your eyes with that sad, desperate look. “It’s been a week, Satoru. A week. You need to calm down. Go home please” You say, concern etched into your face as you speak.

“Calm down? How can I calm down when the feeling of you in my arms is driving me insane. You want me to calm down, but I can't. Tell me, are you sure you don't feel anything, really? Is this really all just fake to you?”

“I don’t.” Maybe you do feel something for him, but how can you be so sure? It's just mere attraction, but who wouldn’t be attracted to him?

He lets out a strangled scoff at your words, “Bullshit. I don't believe you. You don't have the slightest feeling towards me? Not one drop of care or affection you feel towards me?"

What is he even talking about?

“I’ve told you this, Satoru. Of course I care about you, as a friend. Why are you moving so fast? You’re taking everything out of proportion as if we’ve known each other for months.” You need to shut him down before he escalates any further, need to make him understand.

“I’m not moving too fast. You don’t get it, you don’t understand how I feel.”

What is he actually even talking about right now?

“I think I love you.”

You freeze, he doesn’t mean that. He does not mean that.

How can he just say those three words with such ease?

“What?”

“God.. you don’t understand how I feel at all.” He’s inching his face closer to you now.

Love? Is he serious right now? It’s been a little over a week.

“Yeah, I don’t. Who falls in love with someone after a week of knowing them?” Because what? He's being illogical.

His grip on your hips tighten, a shiver running through your skin forming goosebumps on your arms, "I do, okay? I feel like my heart is being crushed when you say you don't feel the same way because I know you do, you just want to deny it. I'm desperate for you, l'm so unbelievably desperate for you, you just don't understand.”

What?

Is he going insane? What is he talking about? You can’t even seem to think.

“I'm so desperate for you my heart hurts, I can't handle it if you only view me as a friend, I need you to feel for me more than that...l need you to feel more for me…”

What the hell is he saying?

You stand there, shocked, confused, muddled as he pulls you closer against him.

Suddenly everything feels hot, his breath against your face, his hands on your body, why does your body feel so limp under his touch?

He buries his head back into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his face into your skin and you can feel his heart pounding against yours.

"You don't get it.” He mumbles into your neck, tone filled with need and a slight tremble in his voice, “You don't understand the things you're making me feel. My mind can't function right when I'm near you. I can't think of anything else other than you when im near you. I can't sleep at night without you in my mind... I can't focus on anything other than how you make me feel everytime I’m around you and I need more... I need more of you-"

“You’re just high, Satoru.” He can’t possibly mean any of that, it makes no sense to you.

How can anyone be so desperate for someone.. in such a short amount of time? How can he be so desperate for you out of all people?

Abruptly, he pushes you against the wall again making your breath hitch, his body pressing hard against yours, pinning you between him and the wall.

“No, l'm not listening to this anymore. Stop telling me I'm high or whatever. I'm telling you I'm not. I'm thinking completely clearly right now, I need you to understand, I don't care if it's been a week. I'm feeling these feelings for you and they're eating me up.”

“Why? Why do you even feel that?” Why is this escalating so far.

He looks at you as you look back at him, his eyes piercing into yours as he looks into your face, his arms wrapped around you, holding you against the wall, "Why? Why do you think!? Because I don't control the way I feel towards you. You're like a drug, you've got me addicted to you. Look what you’re fucking doing to me.”

Who is this man? This isn’t Satoru..

“I’m not a fucking drug. Don’t you dare say that.”

“You are to me. You've got me addicted alright. I physically cannot control myself around you anymore. The moment I'm in your presence it's like every thought disappears from my mind except you...your body, your scent, you, I'm addicted to it, I'm addicted to you.”

He can’t.. be serious. You don’t even know how to respond. Your mind is just full of questions, why is he confessing his love?

Why does he love you? You’ve barely done anything to make him feel that way. This man is insane.

He buries his face into your neck again and you can’t help but relish in the feeling of his warmth melting into you, his hands roaming all over your body, his fingers gripping your hips, your waist, your arms, anything.

But a drug? Addictive? How can he say those words and link them to love? Has he grown that attached to them?

“No.. no, Satoru. Don’t you dare refer to me as something that’s killing you.” You say, your eyes glancing down at him with furrowed brows as nuzzles into your neck, but he chuckles. The vibration of it going right to your core.

What is happening right now. What is happening.

“My sweet girl.. you are killing me.” He mumbles against your skin, “You’re killing me as we speak, destroying me when you keep denying your feelings for me that I can so obviously see, you keep denying yourself.”

“.. What?”

“You heard me. You're driving me crazy, making me feel insane, desperate...addicted, don't you get it? You're consuming my mind. You’re making me go fucking insane, got me acing like a desperate pathetic fool.”

You stare at him, confusion and shock running through your blood and displayed on your face. You can’t seem to understand anything right now, can’t even process his words properly.

“I don’t understand you-“

His hold on your hip tightens, your bodies flushed against each other as he lifts his head to meet your eyes again, “You honestly don't understand? you don't get it? You're killing me, you're driving me insane, making me want to lose my damn mind...you're doing things to me that nobody's ever done before, you're making me feel things that I never knew existed.”

“Satoru stop, just get out.” You don’t want a love confession, you won’t even be able to handle it or respond.

He needs to leave.

“Don’t tell me to get out.” He says, his teeth gritting as he speaks.

“Satoru I don’t have feelings for you and the contract-“

“To hell with the damn contract! Stop mentioning that thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t care about the contract y/n. I don’t.”

“Well I care.”

“Well I'm tired of listening to you going on about that contract all the time. I've said I don't care about it, why can't you just listen to me? The more you mention it, the more irritated I get, I don't want to hear it, I don't want anymore talk about the contract when all I want is you.” He says, his eyes turning from frustrated to pained.

“How is all this just.. just so casual to you? Everything we do, how is it all fake to you?”

“Satoru-“

“Y/n you’re driving me insane. You’re killing me.”

“Don’t say that, you don’t mean that, you’re too drugged to think straight-“

“You're turning me into a desperate, pathetic fool.”

You don’t respond, staring at him in confusion and irritation, his face so close to yours it’s almost making it difficult to breathe.

"Do you want to know why I overdosed? The real reason?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Guess why I overdosed, really.”

“What? Why do I need to guess that?”

“Because you’ve made me fucking desperate, so guess why I overdosed.”

You stare at him, lips parted, brows furrowed and widened eyes filled with concern as you breathe heavily at his tightened grip and close proximity. “Stop it.”

“No...no I won't stop. I want you to hear this, and I want you to realise how much of a grip you have on me, how much you're affecting me. So tell me, guess why I overdosed earlier. Go on.”

Is he trying to torture you?

You don’t want to guess, don’t want to think anymore.

His words linking to his overdose. He can’t be serious.

How much you affect him? You’re driving him insane? You’re killing him? A week within knowing each other?

Is he crazy?!

You exhale as you look down, not wanting to answer his question. Because of you?

How does that make sense? Your chest tightens and clenches at the thought. He can not be serious. None of this makes sense.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re not making any sense..”

He tilts his head, his eyes locked onto you and you can feel his gaze just burning and lasering into you, his body still pinning you against the wall.

“No I won't stop, I can't stop. I'm done holding back, I want you to see… I want you to know how crazy I am for you. So tell me, tell me why I overdosed.”

You can feel your eyes brim with tears at his words, your brows stuck in their knit of irritation and concern. Your heart feels so.. so tight, like as if the bones in your body are wrapping around the organ.

No..

You can’t possibly have this effect on him. It doesn’t make sense. It’s too much.

Too much for just a week.

He grabs your chin tightly, making you look up and forcing you to meet his gaze again, “Don't look away from me, look me in the eye when you answer me.”

This is Satoru?

Slowly, his head leans closer, the skin of his forehead pressing against yours with gentle ease, his eyes piercing down into yours and your breath quickens.

“Say it...say it out loud why I overdosed.” He says quietly, clear for you to hear but almost a desperate whisper, “Say that I overdosed because of you...say it.”

Oh my god.

Your breath hitches as he answers it clearly for you. The bottom of your lip and hands trembling in complete terror.

“No.. no you didn’t.” And before you even know it, your eyes are burning and tear filled with a combination of confusion, horror and sadness as you turn your head away from him, staring at your bedroom door instead of him. Too afraid to meet those blue eyes of his.

How could he do such a thing over you? This man is insane.

Why would he even tell you that? To prove his damn insanity of love to you??

“Don't look away from me.. don’t you dare look away from me.” His hand is gentle as he places it onto the skin of your cheek, forcing you with ease to turn and look back at his face as you tremble, yet his voice is firm, his words are terrifying. "Look me in the eye and tell me why I overdosed. Now. I want to hear it from your lips, want you to know how mad you have me for you that you just can’t seem to grasp. The things you do to me y/n.. it’s all so new to me.”

“Satoru.. What..? Why would you even..?” You can’t even form a proper sentence, your entire body trembling at the thought of it as your tears remain stuck in your eyelids and scorch against the edge.

Why would he do such a thing over you?

Does that mean you could’ve been the reason for his death?

What is wrong with him?

This isn’t the same Satoru you knew a few days ago, in fact, this isn’t even the same Satoru you knew a day ago.

“Please.. say it. Tell me why I overdosed, just say it.” He whispers, his fingers gently caressing your cheek causing the goosebumps on your arms to expand, your body feeling limp under his touch, yet his revelation is anything but gentle. “I feel like I’ve gone completely insane because of you.”

You don’t understand anything, your mind is a mess around him.

Why does he want you to say it so badly?

You shake your head in disbelief, quiet choked cries escaping your lips as he leans closer, his nose brushing against the side of yours, stopping you from looking away from him.

“Say the words..say the reason why I overdosed. Come on sweetheart, tell me.”

You slap him without thinking, again as you choke out with widened, horror filled eyes, “Why the fuck would you do something like that because of me?!”

He looks back at you with his own widened eyes the moment you slap him across the face and just stands there for a moment.

What does he expect to get out of this??

“You seem to really like slapping me, huh?” He says as his hand reaches up to his now faintly red cheek, his eyes still fixated on yours.

“You really don't get it? You really don't realise why I ended up doing that?” He shakes his head as if he can't believe you, as if you’d be happy about this.

“I was so fucking angry at myself for arguing with you. So... so angry. You just wanted to help my damn issue and I was pushing you away because I was scared of hurting you. I felt so pathetic. I thought you'd hate me, and that thought made me go insane y/n. Youre making me go insane and I can't control these fucking feelings. I don’t want to hold them back or ignore them anymore.”

It's as if your thought process just freezes, you can’t process anything.

“It's been.. a week.. Satoru. A week of us knowing each other..” You exhale quietly, completely in disbelief.

“I know it's been a week! I know that, you don't think I've been telling myself that?” His fingers tangle with your hair at the back of your scalp, caressing you with such gentleness it’s almost terrifying, yet it makes you shiver, it makes your body feel even more limp, it leaves you wanting more, more of his touch.

What is happening.

“I've been reminding myself that you're right, that it's been a week, that I can't possibly have these feelings for someone I just met...but then I remember it's you...and I can't help but lose my mind. I'm going insane right now.”

He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you so close to his face you can almost memorise the pattern of his breaths. His other hand on your hip pulls you flush against his body and it’s like your hearts are knocking on each other's doors.

“I know it's not normal to feel like this about someone I just met, but I do. I don't care if it's been a week, my heart aches for you, my mind is filled with nothing other than thoughts of you. It drives me mad y/n.”

“You’re so intense.. Oh my god, you’re insane Satoru.” You know, it sounds awful to say, to call someone insane when they’re confessing their feelings to you.

But it’s been a week.

Maybe you’d understand if a month passed by, but a week?

You can feel your breaths growing heavier with each passing second. The air grows thicker, each inhale and exhale becoming more pronounced. Your chest rises and falls noticeably and you can’t seem to regulate it again to go back to normal.

His blue eyes remain locked onto yours, unwavering, and the proximity only makes your heart race faster. You try to steady yourself but the intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, your breathing betraying your composure.

He lets out a strangled scoff at your words, “I know that! I fucking know that! Why else do u think I got so mad at you for trying to help? or how I'd get so defensive around you when you'd bring up my addiction? I'm a fucking addict y/n.”

“That’s not what I meant, not at all. I didn't mean you’re insane because you’re an addict.” Your voice is cracking now, you tighten your lips, inhale heavily and speak through a broken tone, “Oh god.. Satoru.. How could you overdose over an argument we had?” Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close by the head against your neck as you tremble.

He’s the one who started the damn argument so why would he even..? And you weren’t even mad at him?

“Oh sweetheart, what don’t you understand?” He breathes into your neck, “I think of you constantly, all the time. You're the reason I'm losing my mind. After the small argument we had, it was all I could think about during practice and I was so damn angry at myself for talking to you like that.”

You feel him nuzzle into you, you hear him inhale your scent, you feel him relax into your touch, you have to hold yourself back from caressing and massaging his scalp.

He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if his body needs to feel every part of you, “And not just today, since the day I found out I’d be in this “relationship” with you, Always. And I didn’t know why, because it felt stupid when I didn’t even know you, but I’m so fucking attracted to you. I was attracted to you when I saw you at that celebration party we held too, always. You’ve always been on my mind.”

The celebration party? That was so many months ago.

But you still can’t get the idea of him overdosing because of an argument with you out of your mind.

Why the hell would he tell you that?

Why does it make you so angry? So pained at the thought?

“God, you’re so insane.. Why the hell would you..”

He lifts his head from your neck, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and deep pain, “Yes! Yes I am insane! I'm obsessed with you, I'm a pathetic mess because of you. But I don't care. I don't care that I'm insane, and I'm going to keep being insane because of you. You're so deep inside me and I can't control it.”

“You’ve only known me for a damn week, Satoru! You’re moving so fast you need to relax-“

But he cuts you off, frustration and desperation clear in his gaze and evident in his voice, “I already told you I know it's only been a week! I don't care about how much time has passed. I don't care that it's only been a week. Don't you get it? The speed at which I've fallen for you doesn't matter. I'm not going to control how I feel. I'm not going to slow down the way I'm feeling just because it's only been a week. I’m not going to hold myself back anymore.”

His long fingers caress the edge of your jawline with so much tender care it only sends more shivers through your veins. Your tremble is constant, each breath coming out heavier and more laboured than the last, the air catching in your throat.

His gaze is desperate, pleading for understanding but your mind is too much in a haze, unable to process anything from the intensity of the moment.

It’s all so overwhelming.

His eyes bore into yours with an urgency that makes your heart race even faster. You’re left speechless, unable to even speak full sentences, your senses overloaded by the closeness of his touch and the desperate emotion in those eyes of his.

“I can't control my feelings when it comes to you, I don't care that it's only been a week. I know I need to slow down, I know it's insane that I feel the way I do after such little time, but I can't control it. I'm already obsessed with you, I'm pathetic. l'm a hopeless mess and that isn't going to change.”

“Well it needs to change, Satoru. We can’t do this-“

“Why can’t we do this? Why can’t I feel this way about you? And I swear to God y/n, don’t you dare bring up that damn contract as an excuse-“

“Yes because of the contract and because it’s been a damn week and a few days of us knowing each other. What's wrong with you!”

“I don't care. I can't control the way I feel about you. My feelings aren't going to change just because we've only known each other for a short time. The moment I met you, it felt like something in me just clicked, and I can't ignore it, I can't stop thinking about you. So why shouldn't I act on it?”

“What clicked? What the hell is making you feel this way towards me?” Because you don’t believe him, really. You can’t seem to believe that he could love you.

He looks down at you, his fingers tracing feather-light patterns on the skin of your neck, causing your thighs to tighten against each other making your breath hitch. And the corner of his lips twitch upwards at the sight.

You had hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He has that effect on you, that effect that makes you crave more.

But you refuse to admit it.

You don’t want to. You don’t want another relationship. You’re fine with just this fake relationship, you’re fine with just friends.

“My sweet girl, I don't know exactly what it was.” He says as he smiles down at you, just slightly, “It was just something about you that I couldn’t ignore. It's something about the way you speak, the way you move, the way you look at me, the way you touch me. Everything about you just draws me in because you’re so damn soothing and mind numbing. It's like something inside me just lit up the moment I met you, and I've been burning for you since that moment. Every time I think about you, your skin, your scent, my heart starts beating so hard, I can't control it. God I'm so addicted to you. So damn addicted. That has to be love.”

Holy fucking shit.

How do you even respond to that? Nobody has ever spoken to you with such intense words ever. It’s too new to you.

Your lips part as you look up at him with wide eyes, your trembling slowly halting, “Youre so.. so intense..”

You feel awful, not being able to respond back the same. Because you don’t love him, you don’t even know your own heart right now.

You don’t know if you love him, but you do crave him. But that’s not love, you’re simply touch deprived.

You don’t think he truly loves you either, your skin? Your scent? So basically your body? Is it because you fucked?

But his words.. they’re so intense and romantic. But then again, he has drugs in his system, you know he does. What if he’s just acting out because of that?

You just don’t know.

Your mind gets so messy when it comes to him.

“Satoru.. I don’t get it. I’m sorry I really don’t. All I can think of is because I had sex with you one time and now you’re just lust filled. What you’re feeling isn’t love, it's just lust.”

He scoffs, “Do you honestly think I only like you because of that? I like you because of you, it's not just because we had sex once. I'm obsessed with you for so many reasons, it's more than just being attracted to your body.”

He pushes you harder against the wall, his body flush against yours, his hands still gripping onto your body, “It's more than just how you look, or how badly I want your body, it's more than that okay? I like you for you, not just because we had sex once, I am obsessed with you for so many reasons. Why can’t you see that?”

“So tell me.. please, tell me.”

Because what do you do when you simply don’t know how to respond to the man standing before you as he looks into your eyes with so much desperate intensity it shocks and confuses you?

What do you do when you feel and believe as if you’re incapable of such love that you simply deny it when you’re receiving it at this moment through a confession by a man you know you’re attracted to, but not in love with?

What do you do when you don’t even know what love truly is because you’ve never really experienced it?

What do you do?

🏷️taglist - @catobsessedlady @xionri @poopooindamouf @hyperfixationwhore @spookysoowpprince @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @bbysnw @you-always-made-me-blush @lillizard21-blog @luvvmae @juliiizh @fleurdelluna @zoeyflower @meowforluv @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @prettynai @gojoistic @daughteofaphrodite @reagan707 @ieirieiri @explosivelywuisa @bellsoftheball @mo0nforme @corvid007 @asparkofapricity @gomorlo @pinkkminn

[steddieasitgoes]

Firefighter Steve sits outside the firehouse late one night, soaking in his first day on the job. Sure, he didn't fight any fires today, but he did get to help with a medical emergency case. So far, it's everything he'd hoped the career choice would be. 

He's making a mental list of things to tell his boyfriend, Eddie, about when he sees him tomorrow when a small figure materializes at the end of the driveway. It's a girl. A young one by the size of her shadow, and she's clutching something in her arms. 

Not wanting to spook her, Steve slowly rises to his feet but doesn't take any steps toward her. He lets her do that. Watching as the girl takes one cautious step after the other. It's only when she's a few feet away does Steve notice she's clutching a newborn in her small arms.

The girl takes a moment for herself. Brings the baby to her cheek and nuzzles its small face before she starts walking again. This time she doesn't stop until she's right in front of Steve. 

"Do you need help?" 

She shakes her head before extending her arms and the newborn out toward him. 

It takes Steve a moment to realize what's happening, but then his training kicks in. He takes the newborn from the girl's hands without question and takes a moment to glance down at the tiny thing in his arms. When he looks back up, the girl is gone. 

The baby stirs in Steve's arm, and he adjusts his hold on them. Brushes a thumb against the baby's soft apples of their cheeks before clutching the infant tight to his chest. 

Steve calls the Chief as soon he's back inside the station. The older man is annoyed at first until he glances at the small baby in Steve's arms. 

"What do we do?" 

The Chief sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Take 'em to the hospital. Get 'em checked out, and then CPS takes over." 

Steve knew that. Remembers it from the brief lecture on the importance of safe surrender sights. The same lecture the retired chief preferred by saying “never happens.” 

And yet…

Steve glances down at the baby in his arms again and this time he’s met with two tiny brown eyes staring back at him. There’s a moment of calmness before the baby scrunches its small nose and begins to cry. Instinctively, Steve rocks the newborn in his arms and the crying subsides. 

“Are we uh,” Steve hesitates, looking down at the baby in his arms. “Are we allowed to intervene before CPS.” 

The Chief stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns around to face Steve. “Are you asking if you can keep the kid?” 

Steve nods. “My partner and I we uh, we always talked about having kids. And well, uh this feels sort of like fate in a way, sir.” 

The Chief nods, “The hospital will know more about this than I will. Let’s get you two over there, yeah?” 

-- -- --

It’s three in the morning when Eddie runs into the hospital in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare shirt. He’s seconds away from screaming at the poor woman working reception when he spots Steve around the corner. 

“The station called; they said you were on your way to the hospital!” Eddie nearly sobs, taking Steve’s face in his hands. “What happened?”

“M’okay,” Steve says, moving his own hands so that they rest on Eddie’s hips. “They should have worded that call better.” Steve looks over his shoulder, glaring in the direction of the Chief.

“Then why are we here?” 

“Come with me.” 

Steve leads Eddie down the hallways and straight into the nursery where their baby girl is being swaddled in a new blanket. Eddie gasps, turning to look at Steve with tears welling in his eyes. 

“She was surrendered to me an hour ago and I— I don’t know, Eds. I just though, maybe it was fate? Maybe she’s—“

“Meant to be ours?” 

“Yeah.”

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

When the 141 + König try to get your attention.

They'll have extra bandaids, hair scrunchies, socks, and ammo for your favorite guns. Anything you could possibly need as an emergency that you might not get easily. They carry around hygiene products for you too if you need. "Dammit I need." Bam immediately in your hand. "Oh I should have taken extra." Don't worry about it they gave enough for a month. Have an illness or need medication they have the supplies you need on hand always. You're tired and can't sleep because you have watch? Oops your shift has been covered, go get some rest.

Ghost:

You've noticed it eventually. He's always got whatever you need and soon it becomes so regular that you're just subconsciously turning to him when you need something. He's always got it too. Without fail. It's not till Price, smug as fly shit, tells you Ghost is covering your night shift that you make the decision to confront him. In the military a man doing you favors could mean anything positive or negative but it could definitely be used against you. You find him and sidled up next to his side. "What are you doing?" You ask eventually. He grunts, pretending to be confused. "You're always doing me favors on the field and now you're taking my watch. What do you want?" He looks down at you. "Don't want anything." His sentence feels incomplete and you just glare up at him. A sigh and then, "Alright I do want something." Ice crawls through your stomach. You had hoped it was just him trying to make you feel comfortable in the group but no, there was a string. You look out to the range and track in your base. "Name it." You bite the words, trying to shove as much terror as you can in to your sentence. "Go to dinner with me." A beat, you inhale, another beat and you decide whether or not this counts as harassment. "You've been doing this to...get me to go on a date?" Trying to make the situation clear from your perspective. "Can't really flirt to save your life, the only way I knew what to do. I'll still do it. I just want you. You're a damn good soldier and an asset to the team. And you leave your work out of the base. The team likes you." He tilts your head back to him, as gently as anything. "I like you."

You loved your dinner and plan more date nights.

Soap

With Johnny it was harder to figure out if something was going on. He was always carrying extra things for the team. Ammo, meds, clothes, whatever. It's not until you get a smoke grenade to the face and you have to rip your contacts out to flush your face properly that you don't have extra, and your goggles that have your prescription is in your room. Keeping the pillows company. "Fuck all this." You're basically blind without them and there's no way you can fake it till you're back to base. It was stupid and careless. Price was going to have a field day with this after he reams you for an hour at least. "You alright?" Soap slumped down next to your still prone body. "No it's dumb I left my glasses and contacts. I'm going to have to evac. Or just wait." Soap laughs and you're about to get mad before he pulls out goggles for you. It's your old script but it's not too bad. You make it back to base with nothing more than a headache from your aching eyes. There's no reason he should have your old glasses. In fact, it's made you start to question how he always knows where you leave your things. He's genuinely nice and not in a bad way, even Ghost is gentle around him. Still, you need to talk, cause that's weird. Looking around you find him and you ask him to follow you in to the conference room. He does, glancing at you in confusion. You keep your face neutral and when the two of you sit down he's relaxed but nervous. "Everything alright?" "No not really, why do you have my old glasses? Pretty sure I threw those out, plus it's weird that you always know where I lose things." You lay out your concerns and his shoulders drop. "One, yes I notice where you lose things but you're always losing things and it makes you frustrated. So I've just been making sure to pay attention when you put something down or when you drop something. Two, you did throw them out but I had an extra from when your glasses once on a mission. So I've always kept one just in case. I'm sorry I made you unsettled. I really meant no harm. Plus I, wait no, sorry not the time." He waves his hand. "No no go on it's ok." You feel comfortable again and willing to go back to how it was before and hopefully set boundaries better for yourself. He leans forward. "I like you. I've been trying to get you to look at me, actually look at me." You feel your face go hot. "Dinner, maybe? Or something?" He continues, trying not to laugh at your agape expression.

You have dinner and a movie and happily wonder what your next date will be

Gaz

You were so focused on getting your exercise this morning done before it got too busy that you missed the breakfast call. 'Dammit!' There was no way it wasn't packed with people now. All the good food would be taken and you are not going to touch those breakfast bars, more crumb than food honestly. You make your way to your room, hoping that you would have something in your stash of snacks. As you comb through your drawers you find a single bag of popcorn. You had been meaning to go up to the shops and restock but you've been so busy or do tired lately. And now your stomach was growling. Great. You finished your popcorn on the way to the mess hall. The line was long but you slide in and wait. "Hey morning." Gaz bumps your shoulder friendly. "Hey!" You smile, he was always nice to you, and welcomed you to the group easily. "Got your favorites already don't worry about the line." He points over where the 141 was sat and a plate in front of an empty chair. You frown, "Yeah those are my favorites? How did you?" Gaz scoffs. "You eat like the same 6 things it's not hard to remember." Actually now that you think about it, he always makes sure you had your favorite food. Even if he for sure had to go out of his way. He looks over to your concerned face. "Hey you ok?" "No that's really weird. But thank you I think." You pick up your plate and go back to your room. It's too loud and the sound of other people chewing makes you want to scream today. Gaz followed you. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you." You sigh and stop. "I'm good at what I do except this. Let me start over. You, me, dinner?" He asks and you look over to him. Before you can stop it a smile creeps over your face. "You were flirting?" He laughs, sheepish. "Badly, obviously." You shake your head, still smiling. "Ok you know what? Dinner sounds nice."

You both enjoy dinner so much that you end up taking all your meals alone together. It becomes so commonplace that Price sends those fold away tables to your rooms.

Price

You were new and the transition from your old squad to the 141 was strange. The base was private, secluded and unfortunately for you the nearest stores were about 15 miles away. It made shopping for hygiene products so annoying so you had to stock up. Until you had been gone for two months on a mission and you came back smelling awful and you had been run ragged and all you wanted was a shower and maybe a two week nap. You walked up to the base and Price walked out. "Good to see you, welcome back." "Good to be back Sir. I'll feel better after I get settled." He laughed and walked you in. "We had a bit of a move around. Your room was moved." Nervous now you followed him. "Something happen?" Shaking his head, Price lead you to a new door. "I should have had this done before but it turns out there's no real way to get plumbing to where your room was so we moved you here." You walked in and your things had been carefully moved. Wait. "Plumbing?" "Built you your own bathroom. Little bit of your own space." "I don't understand. I was fine with the one we already had." You looked under the sink and there was one more box of pads and tampons you absolutely were sure you didn't buy. That was creepy. "Let me know when you need new ones by the way I'll put in the order." Your head was screaming danger. No man in his position of power would just do that for no reason. Danger. No one would build a bathroom for one person and get the exact private things you would usually get. Danger. Slowly you stood up. Option One, get a hold of someone above Price and get out of here quickly and quietly Option Two be nice and grateful, (which you are Ghost and Soap are big fans of bathroom sex and any chance to not see that again was fantastic), but see if you can get out of this room without him noticing you freaking out. "What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your tension. Fuck, option one then. "It's kind of weird you know my order and the things I get. You also built me this. Captain, you have to know how this looks." You turn and face him. He looks at you and the gears start to turn. "Oh shit. No it's not like that I completely understand. I'm just trying to make you feel at ease. Give you your own space. Also your products are coming out of the squad budget so it's not any string I had to pull. I only noticed what they were when it was being packed away." You really think about it. Mull it over and over and slowly nod. "Then.. thank you Captain. I do appreciate it. It's so nice." Your own bathroom. You would have killed for this in your old squad. "Just want to take off my favorite girl." There he goes again. The easy banter. "I thought it was no big deal." You tease. "If I wasn't your favorite girl then you wouldn't do this?" He chuckles. "No I would. I wouldn't have any ideas about what goes on in this shower but I would still make it happen." "What kind of ideas?" You lean on the doorframe and he takes a few steps to you. "Let me show you."

You must have been in there a while because when you both make your way to the kitchen Ghost and Johnny are sitting around looking vaguely impatient. "Thank fuck." Ghost sighs and Johnny laughs. "Finally done? Thought you'd never finish."

König

You and König are good friends coming in at the same time, the two of you bond over trying to figure out your place in the squad. He's got your back and you've got his. When you get stuck in rain or fall in to water puddles too deep and they seep through your boots, he always has an extra pair of socks with him. Or a shirt when you need to rip one for an impromptu bandage. But it's especially odd when he happens to have a belt that is your size that you use to hold up a gun you swipped off an enemy body. "We're gonna talk about this when we get back." You tell him, matter of factly. And you do. You come up to his room and he let's you in. His body language is tense and he's actively making himself look as small and non-threatening as is physically impossible. "You always have spare clothes for me. You always have a hair tie or like today with a belt that I checked and is my size. It certainly isn't yours. So what's going on?" He slumps, and admits that he just wants to take care of you. "I'm not sure why I picked that but. For me it's strange I have to order my clothes or make them so I always like to make sure that you have clothes? I think. I'm not sure what I mean." He stands up and your eyes follow his. "I'm sorry my dear for upsetting you." You scoff and wave him off. "It's not weird you didn't upset me. Besides I think it's kind of cute that's how you show you care." König runs his hand over yours. "I do care. A lot. So much it drives me mad sometimes." He leans down, your head straining back, baring your neck to him. "Show me." You plead. "Not yet. I'm told I need to wine and dine before indulging, no?" You can see his eyes crinkle in mirth and damn if that isn't cute and hot at the same time.

"Ok I'm dined, I'm wined. Can we indulge now?" His laugh, deep and warm, is a balm and a flame at the same time.

Can you tell König is my favorite? None of this is healthy btw. I'm walking through the factory where they make the red flags and I'm asking for the gift shop and menu anyway. I need an exorcism.

Edit: can't believe I forgot Kyle. Ugh. Sorry for the late addition folx

[pablitogavii]

can you write about gavi being super depressed and is not taking care of himself and yn realizes it?

Hard times

Ever since the injurty, Gavi completely changed... he was no longer the smily happy boy running around the field and making jokes with everyone.

His face was more grim every day, and he spoke less. As his girlfriend, you've noticed these changes recently and tried talking to him but one thing that always stays the same is how stubborn he is.

"I tried talking to him, but he just brushes it off" you explained to Aurora who came by with Belen to visit the two of you. Pablo didn't want to bother them and make them stay in Barcelona for long knowing they have their own jobs to go back to, and he had you by his side always.

"It's hard for him to go through this in the peak of his career, querida. Just be patient and he'll open up to you" Belen explained and you listened to the wiser older woman carefully. After all, she knew her son best.

"Maybe we can get him to see someone, if that might help?" Aurora suggested but we all knew how Pablo sees doctors. It will be like trying to convince a scared child to get a vaccine.

Pablo entered the room and we suddenly stopped talking greeting him with a smile.

"They brought your favorite fruits, cariño ..." you say and he shrugs his shoulders plopping down on the couch while you walked to the kitchen knowing it was the time for his medications.

"Does it still hurt you, hermano?" Aurora asked noticing the way he was massaging his leg when he raised it onto the bed.

"Yeah ... especially at night. But I didn't tell her anything, she worries too much you know" he explains looking towards you with a first smile he created in days.

"Maybe you should, she's scared that you're shutting out ..." Belen said and he sighed knowing that he really did become distant and cold recently ... everything just seemed to agitate him but he didn't want to take it out on you.

"Here, cariño your medicine" you came back and he groaned sick and tired of all the pills, physicals and scans ... he just wanted this nightmare to end.

"I'm gonna go to the bedroom, they make me sleepy" he said leaving quickly and you nodded sitting down quite sad.

"You sure you don't want to eat something?" you ask but he shakes his head.

"Not hungry ..." he said quickly and you nodded continuing to spend time with him family.

At night, you felt him shifting and turning constantly woken up and you turned to check what's wrong with him. His face said the whole story ... he was in pain.

"Amor, why didn't you wake me earlier? I can massage it for you if you'd like" you offer but he tossed the blankets off himself reaching for his crutches and standing up on his own.

"Just go to sleep. I'll be in the living room cause I'm more comfortable there" he said not giving you a chance to reply before leaving.

The bed was cold and foreign ... you were really missing him.

Next morning when it was time to take him to physical, you couldn't find him in the living room but then you heard him from the guest bathroom. You walked in and there he was sitting on the floor throwing up into the toilet.

"It's okay, amor ... let it out" you sat besides him grabbing a wet cold cloth and placing it on his forehead while he cried closing the toiled at falling into your arms.

"I'm useless ... I can't even walk let alone play on that level again" he was wheezing from tears and you played his his hair letting him talk to you.

"Listen to me, cariño ... these are extremely hard times, but we're in it together. You need to start taking care of yourself if you want to recover fully, and you need to start talking to me about it. " you spoke and he listened like a scared child.

"I need you to start eating again, the pills are strong and that makes you sick. When it hurts, I need you to tell me so I can help. And when you need to cry, you do in on my shoulder okay?" you say and he nods sniffling while you kiss his forehead.

You helped him up towards the living room, preparing some warm soup to help his stomach pains before bringing the warming compress for his knee.

"I feel like a baby ..." he admits when you start feeding him soup and you smile nodding your head and kissing his lips a few times lovingly.

"You are my baby ... my stubborn baby. Now eat" you say and he finished the soup before you gave him medicine and checked on his physical appointment.

"It's not until four, so rest up ..." you tell him and he nods playing some random Barça Youth game on the screen before opening his arms towards you.

"Cuddles please?" he said adorably and your heart melted ... your boy was back!!!

"I thought you'd never ask again" you smile laying in his arms careful to keep his leg comfortable and he kissed the top of your head taking in your familiar scent.

"Did you sleep at all last night amor?" he said and you shook your head.

"I know you can't sleep without me besides you ...rest preciosa, I'll be right here" he whispered into your ear and you blushed nodding your head and slowly closing your eyes feeling secure in his strong embraces.

I really hope he's taking care of himself 🥺🥺🥺

[fuyuu-chan]

For You I Would Sacrifice Anything...Even If It Cost My Life

Characters: Neuvillette, Kamisato Ayato, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sunday, Vyn (??), Sung Jin Woo, Baek Yoon-Ho, Choi Jong-In, Megumi Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Regis Adri Floyen, Shoto Todoroki (+ some characters you think fit)

Fuyuu-chan: I thought I already posted this but apparently not so here it is ✨

Genre: Angst to Fluff

Warning: Not Proofread, no scenario of what happened before the injury, mention of bleeding and blood

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

"Why did you do that?" He said as he holds you in his arms, you're still bleeding and he was trying to make it stop until the medics arrive.

"Isn't it just the normal...thing to do?...To save someone you love away from the danger..." You trail off as you were finding it hard to talk and you were catching your breath.

"...besides I can't...just watch you get hurt in front of me..." You said as you cough up blood as you close one of your eyes.

"Hey hey don't close your eyes... well try not to" he says as he was getting more worried, panic is slowly getting to him which is rare since he's always the calm, collected person.

"You're also crazy to do that, promise me don't do it again" he said as he was tearing up a bit, guilty because this happened to you when he promised to protect you.

You chuckled a bit. "Don't blame me... This is what love do, also I can't promise anything". That's the last thing you said as you slowly closed your eyes because you can't keep it open anymore. At least before you close it you see people approaching the two of you and (his name) calling out to you but it faded as you lost your consciousness.

"(Name)! (Name)!" He called out to you as he slightly tapped your cheek and shake you while he was now crying and he was shaking, but to his dismay it didn't work you were unconscious.

"..."

.

.

.

You slowly open your eyes and see a ceiling but you closed your eyes immediately because of the light, you blinked a few times adjusting your eyes. After a few seconds you opened it fully and turned to your sides. Seems like you're in a hospital (or infirmary) as you turned to your left you saw him, he was sleeping.

You didn't want to disturb, so you try to sat up by yourself and get water as your throat is dry. But you should've think twice by doing so cause as you tried that your injury -stinged?? It hurts which made you make a noise and go back from your position when you wake up and by that you accidentally wake him up. So much for thinking you don't want to disturb his sleep.

He opened his eyes immediately as he heard a noise and he looks at you. Shocked but slightly relieved that it's just you.

"Oh you're awake, are you okay?" He said as he got up from the seat and goes closer to you.

"Ah I'm sorry for waking you up" you apologized as you looked away.

"No it's alright, does your body hurt?" He asked, you can tell he's worried.

"Umm yes when I tried to sat up it hurts probably my injury" you said as you looked at your bandaged injury.

He sighed. "Don't make any moves by yourself alright? Cause it will hurt, the doctors also told me that, do you need something though?"

"Yes...I want water my throat is a bit dry" you said as you looked at him.

He gave you water and he assist you. Also he bought you food since it's been two days since you were asleep so while feeding you he was giving you a lecture about what happened, you can really tell he's guilty especially he promised to protect you but you apologized to at least make him feel better. He teared up a bit while talking to you saying that you scared him to death because he thought you were gonna leave him and that he can't live without you.

It takes you a lot of time to comfort him with words to calm him and reassure him that you were fine and that you're still alive.

But to be fair no matter what happens you are ready to protect him, because you want your love ones to be safe. You know his capable on protecting himself but who can blame you? If you truly love someone you would do anything for them. Sacrifice even.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other social media, Thank you

[sunlightmurdock]

Ok rooster & mav's daughter...maybe they're just hooking up currently but she's been in the trenches with her feelings for him for yearsss and then he gets hurt or something during training & she's a mess and mav says he's going to be ok but she's so torn up and it forces them to DTR right in front of mav who is confused beyond belief & not angry yet because of the shock

Omg omg yes!! So I’m just imagining a scenario in which Bradley’s in the hospital after a big accident and Maverick has been sat in the waiting area for like eighteen hours straight, waiting for Bradley to be allowed visitors after an emergency surgery

And you’re there sat beside Maverick feeling sick to your stomach because you straight up just almost lost the love of your life and can’t say anything about it, and it’s been absolutely eating you up inside, to the point that you just can’t hold it in anymore.

So finally you let out a really big breath and put your head in your hands and say, “Dad, I need to talk to you about something.”

But maverick is too busy staring at the door to Bradley’s room and gnawing at his nails to notice. So, you try again, just a little louder.

“Dad. I need to talk to you about something important.”

Maverick’s brows crease together as he cranes his neck to watch the doctors speaking together in Bradley’s hospital room. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat and you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t get this off of your chest.

“Mav. I need to tell you something important, right now.” But it’s too late, because a doctor just left Bradley’s room and Maverick leaps to his feet as they start to walk over to the two of you.

The doctor smiles politely.

“He’s awake, he’s doing well, but he’s very tired from the medication,” And then he turns his attention towards you, smiling sincerely as he nods in your direction. “He’s asking for you.”

And your eyes just go wide. Maverick’s head whips around, looking swiftly between you and the doctor.

“For — For her? — For you? Why would he be asking for you?” Maverick stumbles, the colour draining from his face. He starts speaking faster and faster and you just know that he’s on the verge of losing it.

You’re stuck, holding your breath for a second as you try to figure out how to approach this topic. Unfortunately, you handle stressful conversations about as well as Maverick does, and you pick the ‘rip it off like a band-aid’ approach.

Taking a big, deep breath, you pause for just a second before letting it all go. “I’ve-been-sleeping-with-Rooster-for-a-year-and-a-half. Sorry, dad.”

Maverick is never rendered speechless for long. There’s a split second where he’s shocked into silence, just staring at you, and you use that to your full advantage. He’s left behind as you duck around him and rush for Bradley’s room. He stares back at the doctor in front of them, both dumbfounded by what you just said.

You slow down as you walk into Bradley’s room, sucking in a sharp breath as your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

He smiles weakly, his face battered, bruised and cut up. His hands, his knuckles, his arms. You know he must be in so much pain under all of that morphine. He swallows, “Hey, baby.”

“Rooster, you big dumb idiot.” You whimper, rushing for him and crawling into the bed beside him. He groans softly and you remind yourself to be gentle. You’ve never had to be gentle with him before. “Oh my god, look at you.”

“I’ll be alright.” He tells you, his eyelids heavy from all of the medication that he’s on.

Blinking back tears, you swallow thickly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Bradley’s brows knit together as much as they can without causing pain, he gives a small shake of his head and lifts his hand as much as he can with the broken ribs. You lean closer so that he can hold your cheek in his palm.

“I thought about you. The last thing I remember thinking is that I just couldn’t do this to you.” He admits quietly. You can hear a small tremble in his always strong voice. You look up at him, eyes brimming with tears. Faintly, you can hear Maverick being told to calm down in the hallway. Bradley’s drugged up enough to not have noticed yet.

You lift your hand to touch him and pull it swiftly back to your chest. You’re not sure what you can touch anymore, what won’t hurt.

“I love you.” Bradley mumbles. He takes a big breath, the first one he has been able to take since the accident that isn’t painful. Modern medicine is incredible. His hand drops from your cheek and wraps around yours. You take his hand in both of yours and bring it up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

“You’re just loopy. It’s okay.” You whisper, hoping that really he isn’t. He closes his eyes and gives a tired shake of his head.

“I feel so fucking tired,” He mumbles. He gives your hand a small squeeze. “Promise you won’t leave.”

Your eyes widen as you hear the door push open behind you. Maverick stands in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you two so close together. He’s still processing.

Slowly, you turn your attention back to Bradley and lift one of your hands to gently smooth his hair back. He leans into your touch.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” You kiss his knuckles softly once more and Bradley hums happily.

“I’m not loopy. I do…” He stops and inhales tiredly, not quite a yawn. He’s beyond exhausted, he doesn’t even notice Maverick’s presence. “I do love you. I have. I did — before this.”

Blinking back tears, you rest your cheek against his hand once more. You lower your voice to a whisper, so that this moment is just for the two of you. “I love you too.”

He’s back to sleep quickly. You stroke softly at his hair, keeping your fingers entwined wit his as you shift delicately to turn around to look at your furious father.

“Not now, Mav.” You breathe out, quiet.

Maverick shakes his head. “No. You’re right. Not now. But we’re going to talk about this. We’re going to have a big conversation about this.”

He walks slowly into the room and settles into the chair beside Bradley’s bed. His hands curl into fists, you watch him prop his chin on one and turn back to check on Bradley.

“He’s lucky he’s already in the hospital.” Maverick mutters bitterly.

“Dad.” You warn, turning quickly and shooting him a swift glare. He sits back and folds his arms over his chest.