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trippinsorrows · 2 months

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looking through your eyes + five

authors note: soooo, i both hate and love this one. can't tell if i'm just being super hard on myself, but it feels flat and a bit boring, but i also know if i keep messing with it, i'll never feel wholly satisfied, so here is the best version i could come up with!

it does include more of roman's background though so....there's that at least lmao

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

cw/tw: sexual harassment, language, violence, ptsd episode (dissociation, avoidance, breakdown), torture

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

words: 8k

Solana has come to the realization that training isn’t entirely awful.

Or maybe it’s the fact that along with training, she’s allowed the chance to socialize, to be around other people and learn to not be so nervous all of the time. Naomi is a great person for that, bubbly and naturally personable. She’s created such a welcoming space that has left Solana feeling less and less nervous.

A couple weeks into training, Solana also feels like she’s growing more comfortable in her learning. It’s still the very basics, a lot of focus on flexibility, but it feels good. It feels almost relieving to be able to learn certain skills and tips that she can use to maybe one day defend herself.

To maybe one day be able to take care of herself.

Or maybe some dreams are just too big to wish for.

It’s the end of her session with Naomi, and Solana is in the women’s locker rooms, having just finished her shower. She’s in her head a bit, mentally going over what she’s going to make Roman for dinner.

He’s been gone more often than not the past couple weeks, and she’s torn on that. On one hand, it’s nice not to be around a man who she’s supposed to be figuring out a way to kill, a man whose presence alone creates an additional layer of anxiety on top of the pre-existing baseline that is her everyday anxiety

But…..

But, there’s also a part of her that….that wouldn’t be too opposed if he was around more. Being alone in the big house also creates a space of anxiety. If…if he was present more, maybe she could learn how to interact with him.

Could learn him.

It’s this strange thought process that’s so confusing and almost overwhelming for her that it keeps her from noticing the pending danger lurking just steps away.

“Hey, Solana.”

Solana gasps loudly, spinning around, her eyes widening at Austin Theory who stands before her with that same predatory smile. She opens her mouth to scream, but she’s too slow.

Austin backs her against the lockers and slaps his hand over her mouth. His other hand moves to pin her hands over her hand. Instantly, her heart is beating out her fucking chest, an intense weight of dread anchoring her down.

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed.

“Always so damn jumpy. All we wanna do is get to know you....”

It’s almost perfect timing when another man appears, Grayson. But, it’s when he sees Austin and Solana that he frowns, walking over, “man, what the hell are you doing?”

Austin rolls his eyes, laughing. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch. It’s just a little fun.”

“This isn’t funny, Austin. If Reigns finds out—”

“What the fuck is he gonna do, huh?” Austin scoffs, gaze returning back on Solana who has her eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re not going to say anything to him anyway, are you?”

Solana gasps, breathing uneven as Austin lowers his hand to tug on the knot of her towel just enough to loosen it but not enough to undo it. Regardless, it’s that one act that truly immobilizes her because she’s no longer standing before this man as a grown woman.

She’s that 12 year old little girl completely unaware of what night of horrors is about to be unleashed on her, the way an unspeakable act of evil perpetrated on an innocent child is going to lead her down a dark, depressing path.

And she’s frozen, frozen in time, forever stuck in that state of suffering.

Grayson’s eyes fall on Solana, seeing that she’s almost no longer present, dissociating, and that seemingly freaks him out even more. He tugs on Austin’s shoulder. “You had your fun, mate. Let’s fucking go.”

Austin has never been one to listen to others. Ever. But in a testament to his cruelty, Solana’s lack of reaction, lack of struggling and displaying helplessness in front of him wanes the enjoyment. He doesn’t get off as much, doesn’t feel as empowered as he does by making people feel small.

So with a scoff and not an ounce of influence from Grayson in his ear, he releases her, stepping back with a smirk as she instantly moves her arms over her chest.

“Relax, Mrs. Reigns.” She’s anything but, and it brings a smile to his face. It’s so fucking easy to get her unnerved. “Just messing with ya, that’s all.”

There’s more distant talking, snickering and combatting with someone speaking quietly but urgently. Solana can make out part of that as she gradually returns to a state of awareness. Enough to where she’s eventually cognizant of the fact that they’ve left, that she’s alone, that they no longer pose an immediate threat.

But, they do. They do, because what if they come back?

Chest still tightening, breathing still erratic, Solana rushes over to the door, shaking hands managing to shut it closed and locked. But, it’s not enough to just be alone, to know that no one can come in and try to hurt her.

Because she still feels it.

Still feels hands on her, restricting her, bounding her, and it makes her sick.

Hand over her mouth, Solana does her best to push back the nausea, rushing over to the showers, turning the knob so that it’s at full strength.

And heat too.

Shoving the towel off her body, she steps under the scalding water and grabs the soap, immediately scrubbing at her body. It’s unnecessary force, unnecessary heat, unnecessary altogether, but it’s the only thing that gives her a faux sense of comfort. She needs to wash the feeling of them off of her, scrub until her skin starts to look wrinkled and raw, her complexion tinging with redness from the heat of the water.

Eventually, the scrubbing stops feeling like enough. Nothing feels like enough, and she falls back against the wall of the shower, sliding down as she pulls her knees to her chest.

And she cries, the water blending seamlessly with the tears that filter out the drain in a way she wishes the heavy feelings wrecking her body would melt away.

Safe.....

It's a dream that she'll never achieve.

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.”

“But not good enough.” Roman’s dismissal is swift and to the point. “I want 75% of all profits.”

Rikishi presses his lips together, calmly reminding, “that’s gonna be a hard sell.”

“Orton is desperate. He’s an imbecile who uses more products than he moves and is running Bob’s legacy into the ground.” Roman is a man who prides himself on always being on the up and up. He makes it his business to know what’s going on with all competitors and even partnerships. “He should consider my offer fucking mercy. 75% or nothing.”

Rikishi sits back in his chair, a proud smile growing on his face. “I’ve taught you well, Uce”

There’s a modicum of truth to his cousin’s words, but for the most part, Roman has learned more on his own than anything anyone could have ever taught him.

“What’s the status of the imports from Columbia?”

Jey leans forward, answering without pause. “Scheduled to arrive just on time, assuming nothing goes awry.”

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

Roman nods. “It’ll be fine.” His distant cousin, Tama Tonga is a bit on the……eccentric side, but he’s never failed to see a successful shipment through from beginning to end.

“If…..” Paul’s low but firm voice enters the conversation, Roman’s lazy gaze falling on the man. “If I may, my Tribal Chief?” With the nod of approval from the Head of the Table, Paul clears his throat. “By my calculations, there’s a way for us to improve on the total time it currently takes for us to move product by over 40% with some minor….changes.”

Jimmy, who sits almost bored at the other side of the table, feet propped up, asks in a suspicion tone. “What kind of changes?”

Paul clears his throat. “If we were to have access to the Eastern harbor—”

At that, both Jimmy and Jey land eyes on their cousins head counsel. Jey is the first to speak though. “You know that’s Nightmare territory, correct?”

Paul’s voice is surprisingly calm. “I do.” A nervous set of blue eyes settle on the man who sits at the head of the table, the primary one who needs to be convinced of the possible benefits of what he’s about to suggest. “If we would just consider—”

“No.” Roman’s rejection is loud and echoes throughout the conference room. “How could you even fucking suggest that shit?”

“My Tribal Chief, if you could please hear out my—”

Roman’s fist banging against the table sends an alert to all members of this current meeting that the Tribal Chief word is final and unchanging. “I said…..no.”

Rikishi shakes his head, thankful that a stern rejection is the extent of his cousin’s reaction. He can’t believe Paul could even be stupid enough to even suggest such a thing to Roman. Perhaps he could be swayed over to see the business and financial benefits, but Roman…..no, that history runs too deep and bleeds too much red for Roman Reigns to ever consider some sort of ceasefire or let alone alliance with The Nightmare Factory.

“Well, that shit got awkward real fast,” Jey mutters, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Even if it makes all the sense in the world. “How about that marriage life?

Roman shuts his eyes. It’s jumping from one annoying topic to another. “What?”

“Man, Big Dog living good over there,” Jimmy’s smile is wide as he rubs his hands together. “Lil Soso can cook her ass off!”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

This is why Roman didn’t want to get on this subject, because he knew where it would lead to, another road he’s not trying to go down right now.

Rikishi chimes in, “their delivery is trash, but the question is still fair. Is there a chance she’s pregnant?” A sly smile falls on his face as he teases, “I know you well enough, Uce, that I don’t need to remind you of the importance of trying.”

Jey snorts. “That ain’t never been a problem for any of us. Especially Roman. Man, I still don’t know how you don’t have a gaggle of lil mean mugging ass kids running around here.”

The answer is simple, and Roman expresses as such. “Because I know how to fucking use a condom unlike you idiots.”

“Hey. I don’t know what you talking about. All my kids by Nicki.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

At that, Jey jumps out the chair, Jimmy rolling his eyes as Paul shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Ayo, you the Tribal Chief and everything, but you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife like that, aight?”

“Where did you sleep last night, Jey?” Roman’s tone is both bored and knowing, especially as Jey’s gaze drops the same way his ass does right back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”

“Just…” Rikishi’s voice is louder, allowing him to realign the conversation. “Keep us updated, Roman. When she does get pregnant, you’ll need to up her security.”

“I’m aware.” Just like he’s aware of the fact that unless this girl is the virgin fucking Mary and will have an immaculate conception, there’s no need to worry about that right now.

Or ever.

His business phone lighting up with a familiar name across the screen is both a welcomed surprise as well as distraction for Roman. Without hesitation, he answers, watching the TV anchored on the wall light up.

Roman’s shoulder straightens as he leans back further into the soft Italian leather of his chair. “Dwayne.”

“Roman.” Dwayne removes the stereotypical dark glasses Roman always grew accustomed to seeing his cousin wear in any interaction. His smile beams. “Long time no fucking see, cousin.”

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.”

“I saw that. Congratulations on the marriage. An invite would have been fucking nice.”

At that, Roman chuckles, calling out his bluff. “Like you would have come.”

Dwayne’s laughter echoes through the office. “Fair.” He then greets the rest of the men present, though it’s a surprise to no one that his initial exchange is solely with Roman. They’ve always had a great bond, even better business partnership, hence the position Roman has placed him in. “You know why I’m calling though”

And there goes the ‘fun’ while it lasted. Straight into business with his big cousin. He respects it immensely though. Dwayne is all about profit and efficiency and ensuring the smoothness of operations. “The same reason you always reach out, cause it’s not that often.”

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.”

And he is.

6 years, to be precise.

“You need to fly out here.” Dwayne isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know, hasn’t already heard. “They need to see your face.”

“They have you.”

Dwayne snorts. “They hate me almost as much as they hate you.” They being that other side of Roman’s family, the side that he could go on with the rest of his life without seeing or speaking to. The side that probably feels the same about him and his Tribal tattoos, long hair, and skin that is not like theirs.

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

“Hell no.” The answer is surprising, unlike Dwayne’s next statement. “But, I do care when shit starts to get more openly disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re becoming bolder with questioning your leadership. Less subtle. More direct.”

At that, Roman’s attention is fully captured. He sits up in his seat. “Is that so?”

The twins, Rikishi, and Paul all exchange knowing glances, having been wisely quiet to allow the Head of the Table to conduct business as he sees fit. But this, they all know where this is going.

“Maybe it is time I remind them who the fuck is in charge here.” As much as Roman loathes the idea of having to be around and interact with these fuckers, nothing vexes him more than having his authority challenged.

Like he’s not the one, the two, and the three they’ve been looking for.

“I’ll see about flying out within the next week.”

Jey speaks up for the first time. “I can’t just leave on that short notice—”

“Did I say I needed you to come with me?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question. “I can handle this on my own.”

As is his preference with most things, because in Roman’s opinion, most things are handled better and in the way that most pleases him when he does it himself. His expectations can only be set and maintained or exceeded by him.

“At least take Paul with you, Uce.” Rikishi suggests, and in the moment, it’s last thing he wants. Paul’s already pissed him off enough for the day. “They need to be straightened out, not taken out. Paul can help you keep that balance.”

Roman isn’t obstinate enough to disagree with that. Paul does have his uses, one of which being his ability to talk Roman down when the preference is to just kill motherfuckers the second he deems them annoying.

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Wise Man and I will go.” There are far too many other things on Roman’s plate for him to push back on a plus one. This is immaterial to the larger picture. “Dwayne, start the preparations.”

“You got it, brotha’. I’ll keep in touch.”

The screen goes dark as Dwayne ends the call. Roman reclines back in his chair, a mixture of muddy, dark, bleak emotions. The idea of having to be around his maternal family is quite literally sickening to him. He hates those sons of bitches almost as much as they hate and despise him.

But on another hand, the idea of getting away from all this, from this Solana dilemma, there could be some benefits. He’d be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps even a month. Maybe in that space he’ll come back to a different kind of woman. A woman who knows how to fucking stand up for herself instead of being so scared all the time.

And as if reading his cousin’s mind, Jimmy breaks the silence, asking, “Ayo, Roman, you sure you should be leaving—”

A knock on the door seems to only exacerbate the tension as Roman snaps. “What?”

Alicia, his secretary, easy on the eyes and effective in what she does, opens the door just enough to stick her head through. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Reigns—”

“So why are you?” It’s well known that Roman is a man who hates interruptions, especially when he’s in the middle of a briefing meeting, and she knows this well. Might be time for a new secretary.

Alicia swallows and calmly explains, “your cousin, Nia, is on line one. She says she needs to speak to you immediately.”

“She can wait.”

“With….all due respect, sir, it sounds like an emergency. She’s been blowing up the lines all morning.”

Curious, Roman turns his personal phone over and sees his lock screen littered with missed calls, texts, and a voicemail all from one person.

Nia.

With a heavy sigh, Roman dismisses Alicia. “I’ll handle it.”

Quietly, she closes the door and he unlocks his phone to return the call. Nia never makes such an effort to get in contact with him. Some shit must have went down, though his mind still wonders what level of bullshit could have occurred that even she can’t handle.

Phone laid on the table, he dials and places it on speaker.

“It’s about fucking time, you asshole!” Her introduction is unsurprising. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour.”

Roman is already tempted to hang up the phone and block her until further notice. “What do you want, Nia?”

“You need to get down here now.” He’s still not hearing anything that would warrant him moving an inch. “Your fucking Princess Peach wife—”

But at that, Roman’s interest is piqued. He sits forward in his chair. “What about her?”

“I don’t know, she had a mental breakdown or something and has locked herself in the locker rooms. We can’t get her to come out—”

Right away, Roman gets to blaming and accusing. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Nia can’t respond before he asks the next important question. “Where the fuck was Solo!”

“I didn’t do anything, Roman! And Solo can’t be with her in the fucking women’s locker room!” Nia’s defense is as sharp as his imputation. “I told you that girl isn’t made for this life. She’s a fucking problem! Come get her now, or I’m going to blow the damn doors off myself.”

Highly vexed with Nia’s smart ass mouth as well as the nature of the situation, Roman slams his finger on the end button and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Fucking hell.”

Jey, just as confused as everyone else, decides to be the sacrificial lamb, asking, “Roman, what was that—”

“You two come with me. Wise Man. Rikishi. Finish and send out the response to Orton’s proposal.” Roman issues out indisputable commands as he marches out of the room, the twins not hesitating to hop up and follow suit. Confused or not, they know better than to question their cousin when he’s in one of these moods.

They don’t even say anything for the beginning portion of the ride to the Warehouse, a rarity for them considering they always have something to say. But this time, they wait for Roman to break the silence, and he eventually does, still just as angry.

“I don’t have time to be dealing with this shit!” To say Roman is pissed would be an understatement. He’s livid. For a lot of different reasons, really, maybe even mostly at the fact that his head counsel had the unmitigated gall to even utter Rhodes name around him.

Roman would see the entire empire go up in smoke and flames before he’d ever agree to any sort of alliance with that son of a bitch.

That only adds on top of the fact that the Italian faction of his empire seems to be questioning his ability to lead, as if the data doesn’t clearly support that business has never been better. The cash flow is endless. Numbers don’t lie.

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination.

It’s because of his father, the Samoan blood that runs through his veins. His being afakasi. Mixed. They believe that following that night, the alliance between the Bloodline and the Guild, an alliance sealed by the marriage of his father and mother, should have been dissolved. That someone from his mother’s side, a full blooded Italian, should sit on that metaphorical throne.

But, that’s not the case.

Roman assumed power because it is his by birthright, and he’ll be damned if he lets some ignorant fucks try to take it from him.

So yes….there are a lot of different reasons for his anger.

But, it’s a lot easier to blame it on the reason he’s in an SUV now, heading to a place he didn’t even plan to attend today.

“I’m not going to keep dealing with this shit with her.” He’s not even entirely sure who he’s speaking to at this point, or if he’s directing his statements to anyone in particular. Just needing to vent and get it out.

“What do you mean keep dealing?” Jimmy is the first to pick up on his cousin’s wording. “Something like this happen before?”

The twins look between each other and then back at Roman who runs his hand over his face, realizing that if there’s anyone he can trust to keep this between them, it’s the twins. Annoying and sometimes dimwitted, they’re notoriously loyal and can sometimes provide sage advice.

“She had a complete meltdown on the wedding night. Panic attack, wouldn’t stop crying.” Roman conveniently leaves out the part of him talking her down from a panic attack. They don’t need to know that.

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

“No.” He answers, honestly. “We didn’t even do it. She was too hysterical.”

“Wait a minute.” It doesn’t surprise Roman that Jimmy is the first to put two and two together. “So you ain’t even fucked her yet? But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He doesn’t need to be reminded of anything. Roman’s memory is long and sharp. “I also know what I do and don’t feel like dealing with right now.”

“Uce, the only reason you even married this girl was so that she could give you an heir. How the hell is that supposed to happen if she won’t even let you touch her?” As much as Roman wants to snap at his cousins, he can’t. He can’t because they’re right. It’s something he’s thought about on and off since the wedding night.

It’s painfully evident to him that Solana’s mental state is….fragile, to stay the least.

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

“Maybe you need to just annul the shit and cut your losses while it’s still early.” Jey suggests, and Roman can’t deny the idea has a level of appeal to it. Until the next part leaves his cousin’s mouth. “Send her back to her family.”

“No.” That’s an easy no. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea of annulment, but what’s not an option is sending her back to that house of horrors. The only way he can see himself doing that is if he’s put a bullet in both her brother and father’s head, which technically, is the plan anyway.

He would just be making some…..timeline adjustments.

“I won’t send her back there. That’s a death wish.”

Maybe set her up with some money and a house. Let her live out her days with her damn writing, reading, and cooking, the only three things she seems capable of doing without fear. But even thinking that, Roman wonders just how capable she is of living on her own.

Xavier kept the girl so damn sheltered. He’d have to keep a security detail on her at all times. Maybe keep Solo with her. She seems to have grown somewhat comfortable with him.

The same with Naomi.

Or, so he thought. People who are moving in the right direction don’t lock themselves in public fucking locker rooms.

Jimmy also points out, validly, “well, you obviously can’t keep her around if she literally can’t do the one job she has.”

“Let’s not be irrational, alright?” Jey, in a twist of faith, tries to be the voice of reason. “That girl can cook.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Sure enough, he switches his tune. “Man, Soso ain’t even that bad, uce. You just gotta be patient with her.”

The change of tune doesn’t surprise Roman, but his suggestion is almost comical. If not for the fact that he’s already in a sour ass mood. “Do I look like a patient man?”

“No, but you do look like a man who could benefit from learning how to be patient,” Jimmy’s rebuff is quick and sharp. “That’s why you and Jey on high blood pressure medication right now. Both ya’ll hotheaded asses be getting yourselves all upset over nothing. Probably why you’re going gray too.”

There may be some element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s also irrelevant to the issue at hand.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, and it’s the truth, because that’s what Roman does. He figures shit out.

He always figures shit out.

The SUV is barely parked when Roman flings the door open, slamming it shut behind him, not knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“What happened?” Roman’s demand is accompanied by his powerful stride into the Warehouse, Nia immediately rolling her eyes and pointing to Naomi.

“Ask her. She was the last one to interact with her.”

Naomi is unsurprised by both Nia throwing her under the bus as well as Roman directing his fury in her direction.

“What the fuck happened?”

As someone who’s been involved with the Bloodline and their family members for over a decade, she’s used to both Roman’s anger as well as being on the receiving end of said anger. So, her response is calm and to the point. “Like I told Nia, we trained, and she was fine. She actually did well today. I had another training session after her, so we agreed on the next date, and she left for the locker rooms. That’s it.”

Naomi’s answer is unhelpful, but he believes her. Knows she’s being honest. It’s just that her honesty doesn’t do shit for him.

“Clear the place.” It’s directed to Nia even if his focus is still on Naomi.

Nia steps forward, irritation undeniable. “Roman, seriously? We have matches lined up—”

“I don’t care. I want it cleared now, Nia.” She’s about to protest again, but he lifts his hand, warning, “I’m not in the mood, so don’t fucking test me.”

Nia isn’t stupid. She might be able to teeter the lines some days with her cousin, but this clearly isn’t one of those days. Grumbled protests stay within the confines of her inner dialogue as she turns on the edge of her heel to start emptying the Warehouse.

The twins step forward, asking, “what you need us to do?”

Nothing. He doesn’t want anyone to do anything aside from leaving him the hell alone, but that’s not an option. So, he moves quick to find a task for them. Naomi as well. “Check the cameras. Something happened, and I want to know what.”

“What if—”

“Check the cameras.” At this point, Roman’s about to kick them all out if people keep questioning him like he isn’t the fucking Tribal Chief.

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

When one doesn’t have much, or any, as a child, they overcompensate, and then some, as an adult.

He recognizes that fully.

As all parties move to follow through on his orders, Roman heads toward the locker rooms, ignoring the complaining of the gym goers having to prematurely leave against their own volition. He’s not focused on that, just on the panel near the doors, a panel he’s never had to use until this day.

A panel only he can operate and use as its his biometrics and only his. Again, a man who likes control.

It takes less than a minute for him to gain access, the door automatically opening. Roman steps in and closes it behind him.

“Solana.” He’s certain she won’t answer him, won’t magically do a 180 and feel well enough to step out, but he does feel like at least making his presence known to her will minimize her fear and surprise.

Because one of the first things he notices and hones in on is sound, listening for any and all sounds that could lead him in her direction, and it’s a bit on the easy side considering there’s only the sound of running water coming from one area. And if he had to guess, one specific shower stall.

Carefully, his steps take him from one end of the room to the other, moving in the direction of the woman he needs to find.

And he does find her.

He finds her sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, enclosed in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring like she’s in a state of shock, like she’s not aware of where she is or what she’s doing. Like she’s not aware of the heat of the water bearing down on her body.

“What the hell?” Roman’s first reaction is a modicum of shock, the heat from the steam alone almost instantly suffocating him. Naturally, he moves toward her, to cut it off, but her scream of terror stops him prematurely.

“No!” It’s been a while since Roman has heard that level and depth of fear in someone’s voice, in the hefty depth of their sorrow. She’s petrified. “P–please don’t.”

It’s for that he actually hesitates, doing his best not to shout at her because that’s clearly the last thing she needs. “Solana, I’m not gonna fucking touch you, but you’re burning yourself!”

While he does his best to keep his eyes focused on non–inappropriate areas, he can already see the reddening of her arms and back. If she already hasn’t burned herself.

Again, he tries to reason with her, which is such a strange experience. Roman doesn’t negotiate with people. He does whatever the fuck he wants and cuts down anyone who has something to say about it. But this, this is a completely different experience he’s not entirely sure he knows how to navigate in a way that won’t fuck this girl up even more than she already is.

“I’m just going to shut the water off.” Announcing his intentions seems like the next best thing, even if it seems to do little to calm her. So, he bites the bullet and moves fast enough to where she can’t protest until it’s already done.

Which is exactly what happens.

“No! I—I need—I need to get clean. I need—” She starts crying again, hugging her legs closer to her body. “I can still feel—their hands—”

“Did someone touch you?” Interrupting her isn’t a good idea, especially with the way anger naturally floats into his tone. It’s almost impossible for it not to. If someone fucking touched her….“ Solana….what happened?”

She gasps, shaking her head, pleading almost. “Please….please don’t m–make me t–t–talk about it.”

There’s a distant look in her eyes, one that’s both uncomfortably but extremely familiar to Roman. He knows what it looks like for someone to be physically present but mentally elsewhere. That’s what Solana is right now.

She’s not talking about today but something else, something much darker that whatever happened today only triggered.

Roman slowly starts to crouch down in front of her but she jerks back. “I’m not going to touch you, Solana,” he again reiterates. “But you can’t stay in here.” He starts to remove his jacket, reaching it over to her. “We have to go back to the house.”

Again, she’s panicking, protesting. “I can’t—I can’t go out t–t–there.”

“I had the place cleared,” he explains. “There’s no one out there except for the twins, Naomi, and Nia.” Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if he should have asked them to leave too. He didn’t know she'd be this frazzled.

“Come on," he encourages.

Eventually, she accepts his jacket, and Roman stands back up to his full height, turning around and allowing her the privacy he’s sure she’d want. She steps forward, Roman seeing she’s hugging herself keeping his jacket covering her body.

She keeps her head down, obviously still shaken up, still messed up from a lot of things. He honestly doesn’t know where the trauma stops and ends with this girl.

Roman directs her. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.” He looks down at her, needing some level of acknowledgement. “Okay?”

Solana surprises him by glancing up, nodding softly, walking away to what he would guess is the locker where her clothes are.

Pleased that she’s at least well enough to be left alone to follow through on a simple task, Roman exits the locker room. He approaches the desk, the twins immediately standing up. It’s not lost upon him that Naomi and Nia are nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess, Jimmy sent Naomi home, not wanting her to bear anymore of Roman’s wrath. And Nia left to avoid unleashing her wrath on Roman, neither of which he’s entirely upset about.

He has no interest in seeing either of them right now.

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

“Send it to me.” Roman is smart. Always has been. It’s not difficult for him to connect the dots to see that someone clearly fucked with Solana. And he’s almost certain whatever footage the twins found will confirm and show exactly how she was fucked with. The same way he’s entirely certain that managing his anger seeing as such is damn near if not wholly impossible.

And she doesn’t need that right now. She’s already a hot mess. Being exposed to his explosive temper will only exacerbate that, so being sent the footage for him to view when he’s alone and can respond as violently as he wants is the best route.

Especially with his next order.

“Whoever it is, bring em’ to Asylum.” He adds, as if it needs to be specified. “Tonight.”

Jey nods, and Roman notices there’s an edge to his voice. The same way there’s an edge in Jimmy’s expression. They seem pissed. “You got it.” And for some reason, Roman has a burning guess that it has to do with whatever they found rather than it being directed toward him.

Waiting for Solana to exit the locker rooms, Roman blows out a deep breath and scratches his beard. This day has been a shitshow for a variety of reasons, but this reason in particular, this thing with Solana, it ranks pretty high up there.

He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing to do with this girl.

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

“Text Paul. Tell him I want Solana’s medical records. All of them.”

Roman knows now he needs answers, specific answers regarding exactly what he’s dealing with. And Solana is clearly in no position to share these things with him, not that he’d even want her to.

She’d probably have to be admitted somewhere if he tried that shit.

Jimmy looks understandably confused but affirms, “I gotchu.”

And with that, Roman also pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, selecting the thread and typing out a message he doesn’t really think twice about.

Roman: Dwayne. Change of plans. I’ll come when I can, but now’s not a good time. I have shit here I need to handle first.

Roman: In the meantime, take my name out their fucking mouths.

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And just like that, Solana knows that he knows what happened. Knows about Austin and Grayson.

And it turns her stomach.

Roman took her back to the house. He left her alone, giving her time and space to come down from her breakdown. And even in sitting in her room, writing out her feelings about the day's events, she knew. Solana knew that it wasn’t that simple. That Roman wouldn’t just leave what happened today at that.

That he’d want to know what happened, what triggered it, but naively, she tried to convince herself he’s too busy of a man to deep dive and find out on his own. To push her for answers.

She’s wrong.

She’s wrong because that’s the first thing to leave his mouth when he finds her in the kitchen.

Roman’s question, however, is valid and understandable, even if just the thought alone of having this conversation makes Solana physically uncomfortable.

Still, given everything that’s happened today, she can’t blame him for wanting answers.

She just doesn’t have them to give.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His tone is full of mockery and frustration that she also can’t blame him for but physically finds herself feeling unsettled. “Bullshit. I want an answer, Solana.”

Her skin feels hot, stomach starting to knot. “I just—I don’t—”

“I can’t handle problems you have if you don’t fucking tell me that you have a problem in the first place.”

“I’m sorry—”

At that, Roman snaps, unintentionally, but also a build-up from all of the day’s events. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

What he doesn’t expect is for her to jump back away from him, so much so that she falls to the floor and hurriedly moves back against the cabinet, as she shouts in a panic, “I’m sorry!” Her arms are crossed in front of her body, a defensive position, like she’s waiting, bracing.

Waiting for him to hit her.

Roman’s been in this position countless times. Standing before people as they begged for mercy, begged for him to not enact his vengeance, to rule out his judgment as judge, juror, and executioner. And it’s always been a thrill for him, a boost to his ego, a reminder of his power.

And not once has he ever felt bad for causing such a reaction.

Not until this moment.

With slow, careful movements, Roman also moves to the floor, one leg outstretched, the other hiked so his foot is planted on the ground. His arm casually resting on his knee. “Solana….do you remember what I said to you that day at your job?”

She's still waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to lash out, for him to hit her. But, she’s confused by the fact that instead of him doing so just yet, he's sitting on the floor opposite of her. And somehow, she finds it in her to focus on his question. He said a couple of noteworthy things that day, but somehow, she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“My…..my clumsiness.” Clumsiness he told her she wouldn’t have to worry about, but she’s been more than worried about it, more waiting for it, expecting it at some point or another.

“And I meant that shit.” His head is leaned back against the cabinet, and Solana suddenly feels even worse. He seems so stressed out from all of this, from her. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you. Not your dad. Not your brother. Not fucking Theory and Waller.” There’s a bit of a pause as he adds, almost quietly, “and especially not me.”

Solana is unsure what to make of what he’s saying to her. Not sure how to process and take it at face value. It’s hard for her to digest the fact that one of the most dangerous and violent men in the country wants her to believe that he’d never put his hands on her. That he’s not someone she needs to be scared of.

And she doesn't understand it, can’t comprehend how he can not be like every other man in her life. “W–why?”

“Cause unlike your piece of shit family, The Bloodline has morals. I’m not a good man, Solana, and I don’t pretend to be. But, I’ve never hit a woman, and I never will.” Roman never pictured himself having to explain to a woman why he has no desire to beat her. Yet, here he fucking is. “Real men don’t do that shit.”

Solana doesn’t know what to say to that, is still not sure what to say to any of it. But then, Roman is speaking again.

“It’s no secret. I have a temper, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. Not for you, not for anyone.” Solana knows this, knows this very well, and understands it just as much. She would never expect him to change his ways, especially for the likes of her. “But, I—I’ll try to be mindful of it around you.”

That…..throws her for a loop. Why? Why would he do anything for her? What has she done to make him even feel like he should? Except stress him out and cause him unnecessary problems.

Roman continues, asserting, “but, you’ve gotta start fucking telling me shit. I need you to meet me halfway here. I need you to communicate with me. You can’t spend the rest of your life writing what you refuse to say out loud.”

She licks her lip, a nervous action, replying as best she can, “I’m not—I’m not used to—” She’s not used to people caring about her, caring about her wellbeing, and maybe that’s too strong and too inaccurate to describe what Roman is saying. It’s certainly how it feels though. “I—I’ll try.”

He seems pleased by this, probably not fully satisfied but enough for him to drop the subject. And she appreciates that, and is thankful for it. This day has already been a lot, too much. She’s so fucking tired.

Roman says nothing else, not that she needs him to, not that he needs to. But, as he stands up, turning to leave, she finds herself asking him, “where—where are you going?”

His answer is simple but ominous. “I told you. No one lays a hand on you.” He grabs his jacket off the sofa, sliding it on as he vows, “I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

—-------

Asylums, historically, have been places of horror. Where the lives of so many end in cruel and undeserved ways. Screams and pleas falling on deaf ears, memories of terror forever etched in the walls and halls of a building that’s only seen suffering.

It’s a fitting name for Roman’s location for interrogation.

Torture. Because there is no being interrogated by the Tribal Chief. It’s just straight up, unadulterated torture. And truth be told, it’s a bit of a last, or maybe second resort. Killing someone in the moment is much easier, preferred. A shot to the head, a knife across the throat, even the snap of a neck. All much easier than methodical, drawn out ending of lives.

But some instances, some circumstances call for something more, something sinister, something lasting.

And that’s exactly what Theory and Waller are going to get.

By the time Roman walks into the building, sliding and tossing his jacket to the side, the twins have done a decent job roughing them up. One of them—he could never tell the difference—nor did he care or will it matter in a few hours, has a black eye that’s swollen shut. The other’s nose is crooked and bleeding, most likely broken. Their clothes are already stained with sweat, blood, and dirt.

They’re both tied down by their wrists and ankles that he can see have started to dig into their skin. Their chairs are situated opposite each other. Good. That’ll make this even better. Calmly, Roman walks over, snapping his finger as Jimmy and Jey step back, visibly pleased with their warm up.

He crouches down between them, looking back and forth between both with a smirk. “Gentleman, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” One of them, the taller of the two looks scared shitless while the other is glaring with idiotic defiance. Like he clearly thinks he and his friend are going to leave this building alive.

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

“I’m Roman.” His voice is slick ice. “Roman Reigns.” There’s a rush of adrenaline that soars through Roman’s big body seeing the fear flash in both sets of irises. Good. They should be fucking terrified. “But, I do know someone you have met.” His voice goes cold again. “My wife.”

“Actually, I saw you meet my wife, but you didn’t just meet her, did you?” Roman smiles, shaking his head. “Naw man….ya’ll did a hell of a lot more than that.”

Roman doesn’t need to have footage of just what happened in that locker room. He can paint the image all on his own, and it’s an image that makes his blood go cold. The footage of them in the hallway was damning enough. “You cornered her, didn’t you? You waited until she was alone and vulnerable and you harassed her. You sexually harassed her. My wife.”

Roman shrugs, looking between the two. “What ya’ll think should happen?” Their mumbled and grumbled voices are incoherent against the gags in their mouths. Laughing quietly, he continues, “now, now, I’m a fair Tribal Chief.” Roman stands up, walking over to the wall of tools and weapons laid out. He settles for the hunting knife. “So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna let you tell me which body part goes first.”

He motions for the twins to remove their gags and upon that removal, the defiant punk is the first to speak, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

The other one, however, is damn near in tears. “Pl—please. We–we’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Grayson! He–he’s bluffing.” Theory, he thinks, decides to prolong his torture even longer by reiterateing, “we didn’t even fucking touch her. The bitch is ly—”

Roman sees red, again, most likely a buildup of the day's events. But, it’s pure rage that fills him as he slams the Buck 119 down against Theory’s left hand, cleanly slicing off four of his fingers.

Theory’s screams fill the room as the twins chuckle, Jey taunting, “who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Roman grabs his chin, vowing, “I’m gonna make you suffer the longest.”

“We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” Grayson is now crying, clearly ready to beg, plead, and whatever else it takes to get him out of this hell. “Austin just—he had her up against the locker, he–he pinned her, but we didn’t rape her. I swear!”

Grayson unintentionally paints a picture in Roman’s head of what he already figured is what happened, what he figured is what sent Solana into her traumatized state.

Big mistake.

Roman brings the knife down on both of Grayson’s thighs, intentionally aiming for near the top of his knees, his quadriceps, effectively rendering him permanently paralyzed. His screams of pain are music to Roman’s ears. Roman grabs him by his jaw, screaming, “who the fuck do you think you are! She’s mine! You hurt her and think I’m not gon break every bone in your fucking body? You don’t ever fuckin touch what’s mine! You understand me!”

The younger man is practically hysterical at this point. “Please….” Roman looks down, hit with the stench of urine, seeing that the one with the accent has pissed himself. Disgusted, he backs away, hitting the pathetic son of a bitch with a blow across his cheek that sends teeth flying out his mouth.

He turns back around, eyes focused on a now teary eyed Theory. “I was going to be fair, let you decide in which order I dismember you, but now…now I’m just gonna make you watch as I kill you both, piece by fucking piece."

He looks over at his cousins who seem completely unaffected and almost indifferent to the gruesome scene unfolding before them. “Jimmy.” Roman doesn’t hesitate, a sadistic smile on his handsome face. “Give me the saw.”

—------

Blood is such a pain in the ass to get out of almost everything.

Roman showered a good twenty minutes before leaving the Asylum, and he can still see specks of dried blood, or maybe it’s bone, or flesh.

There’s a sense of satisfaction that fills him though, that almost calms him as he imagines the look of pure terror and fright on their faces as he methodically took their lives, piece by piece. Well fucking deserved in Roman’s opinion.

And he’d do it all over again if he could.

Minus the blood and guts and shit, because that's just fucking annoying. Roman readies to take another shower, hitting the light switch near his bedroom door when he immediately notices the brown journal sitting in the middle of the bed.

There’s a second to pause and another second for him to realize he’s seen a similar book before. Solana. He’s seen her writing in one very close to the one on his bed.

Less apprehensive, Roman walks over to see it’s open to a page filled with neat writing he knows must belong to Solana.

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

I know you don’t want me saying sorry anymore, and I know you want me to talk to you, but it’s really hard for me. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to talk to you.

And I know you said I can’t write, but writing has always been the only way I can express myself, so I will try to talk to you more, but….until then, can I just write?

Solana

Right off the bat, Roman’s first and initial response is no.

Because why the fuck would he write like something out of a damn movie when she could just fucking talk to him?

But, that’s the thing, that’s exactly what she’s trying to express to him, that she can’t, that it’s too hard for her. Right now, at least. Because there’s also a promise, a promise to try to transition to more verbal communication, Roman’s preference.

Granted, he hates talking to most people in general, but it’s preferred over writing damn letters like the 1700s.

And then he thinks about it, recalling earlier today and the pure terror in her voice, the fear wracking her body so much so that she didn’t even realize she was this close to third degree burns. He has to be realistic here, realistic about what she is and isn’t capable of.

As frustratingly slow as it is, she is trying, in her own way. He can’t fault her for that.

Regardless of how he feels about it, this is the best she can do. For now. And he’ll hold her to working towards that, because growth doesn’t happen in comfort zones. She has to get used to being uncomfortable with new things. That’s just how it is.

But this….he can meet her halfway.

Grabbing a pen out his nightstand, Roman writes out his response, taking and laying it out on the kitchen island for her to see first thing in the morning.

Solana,

I recognize communication is challenging for you. If this is what works for you, I’ll do it. For now.

Do you work this weekend? If so, call off.

I’m taking you somewhere.

Also, there's nothing you can't tell me.

I promise you that.

Roman

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

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zoshkawrites · 5 months

Note

Helloo can you do jo togame as your boyfriend PLSSSSSSSS

Yes, of course! Enjoy!˚ʚ♡ɞ

jo togame as your boyfriend | headcanon/drabble

tw: none, reader insert, english is not my native language

↪ jo is much more careful around you, especially considering how dangerous the city is and that he's part of a gang. one time back when you were early in your relationship, he invited you to their hideout. the other guys immediately noticed you since you were constantly around jo and choji and thought you were a new member. "hey, do you think the new member is strong?" one commented and turned to his friend trying to figure out if he was up for a fight with you too. you sensed this instantly, but you didn't feel any worry: after all Jo and choji were around you. the boys came up to you with cheeky smiles and their hands clenched into fists. their eyes suggested that they were already in the mood for battle. abruptly, however, their smiles faded and fear appeared on their faces: the second most important in the group was looking at them intently, as if wondering whether to beat them here and now or do it another time; jo didn't want you to witness it. "hey, woman" yet they decided to continue. "to you, she is L/N-san" jo added and walked up to you without taking his eyes off the boys. you felt your boyfriend's arms around your waist and you let out an unexpected "ah". "now get away before you get hurt!"

↪ from that day on, jo taught you the basics of fighting because he was worried that he wouldn't be able to be there for you every time when you were in danger. you had each other's phone numbers, but he still felt concerned. you were back in the hideout, but this time it was just you and him. Jo was behind you, his head against your shoulder; you could feel his warm breath tickling your cheek. every time he spoke to you, locks of your hair danced slightly. You couldn't see his gaze, but could feel the warmth in his voice, and how it was different when he was talking with others. “remember when you hit, the power should come from your shoulder, not your arm” he grabbed your left arm and held it up like an opponent was standing in front of you. jo’s palm completely covered your hand; it was then that you realized how much bigger his hand was compared to yours. if he had hit you, you probably wouldn't be able to get up for days. but he made you feel safe, not afraid. "try again, but this without me!" you could feel the slight excitement in his voice. you concentrated all your strength on your shoulder and quickly shot your arm out. the jerky movement of your hand made a slight sound that indicated you were learning fast. “jo how was it!!" you jumped up in happiness and immediately embraced him, burying your face in his chest. "wow!" he patted your head "i didn't expect you to learn so fast, but after all, I am your teacher!"

↪ of course, your parents didn't approve of you seeing someone like him, but despite that, almost every night, he found a way to end up on your balcony. "i bought you ice cream again this time, let's eat together and chat." you sighed and placed her hand on her forehead, trying to sound as dramatic as possible: "jo, one day you're going to give me a big problem." "ah…" he thought and looked at you with a hint of regret "you're right, if we eat ice cream every night we could get sick. maybe I should have bought popcorn?" you sighed again, but couldn't hide your warm smile. he always managed to make you feel better.

↪ and when it comes to mood, Jo is kind of like your secret therapist. you even wonder if he is aware of it. almost every night he wants you to send him a picture of yourself while smiling, taken at the moment. "doll, pls a smile agaim" “again* lol” so sending him a picture of yourself smiling every night became a habit. sometimes when you don't feel well, you smile, take a picture and send it to him. It makes you feel so much better inside knowing that someone actually wants to see your smile. And jo, no matter how much he doesn't admit it, giggles while looking at your photo, hiding under the blanket.

↪ after some time you started to live together. this gave you more freedom to do whatever you wanted; his favorite was helping you cook. you put water in a pot and wait for it to heat up. "jo, are the tomatoes ready?" you asked your boyfriend, expecting him to hand you the vegetable you were supposed to make the salad with. but instead, you felt his arms around your waist and how he lazily rested his head on your shoulder, watching the movements of your hands. "does it matter?" he moved a strand of hair from your shoulder to plant a kiss there. when his lips touched your skin, you felt a pleasant tickle throughout your body. this made you move his hands from your waist and gave them a kiss. when you decided to turn your head to kiss lips as well, you realized that jo was faster than you: you were already kissing, before you could realize. "its impowtant because" continued to kiss him hungrily "we have to eat" and continued again "becauswe soon we-" “shh, let me enjoy you” and kept with the kiss. jo placed his hand on your cheek, then stroked your hair. your lips pulled away as your lungs gave the alarm for air. jo put his face back on the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent: the scent of female perfume and fabric softener danced in his nostrils. he liked this smell: it belonged to the woman who belonged to him. "i love you." his voice was muffled since his head was on neck. you felt his breath and placed your hand on jo's head. your fingers began to play with his black hair and soon you heard a satisfied "hmm" from him, indicating that he liked this. "then prove it"

this made jo stare at you with confused eyes: were you giving hints about something or or doubting his love. your serious look confused the black haired man even more and he raised one eyebrow questioningly. "h-how?" you let out a dramatic sigh and placed another quick kiss on his nose. "by slicing the tomatoes."

#zoshka!#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker anime x reader #jo togame x reader #jo togame x y/n #jo togame #wind breaker manga #request

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heliads · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I miss your Derek fics so much so how’s one where you and him are in a casual relationship if yk what I mean when all of a sudden there’s a mishap that causes him to pull away and end up ghosting you because he caught feelings and is terrified of them, you still try to get in contact with him but got tired of it and that’s when Derek comes back basically begging for a chance to fix it🥺

masterlist

Derek Hale knows he’s gone too far because he’s no longer nervous waking up to hear someone else’s heartbeat next to him. Derek stays alone, always; it saves him the trouble of having to think about saving someone other than himself if he ever wakes up to another roaring inferno. Derek is good at being alone. It’s never something he’s struggled with, even as a lone wolf without a pack. He still talks to other people on occasion. It’s fine.

He’d thought it was fine. Derek had almost gotten to the point of convincing himself of it, and then he started making mistakes like entertaining himself with someone else, and by the time it occurred to him that he was long past the point of no return, there was no way he could ever end it. So he lives with it, it’s fine. Until it isn’t.

Derek Hale has never been the type to get caught up over a girl. He did it once, then swore it would never happen again. There is the idea of Derek, the lone wolf; Derek, the man with a heart colder than ice. He wouldn’t go so far as to describe himself as a womanizer, but he’s dated not one but two of the women who’ve tried to kill him and the other wolves in town, so maybe he should start thinking about raising his standards.

He did, though. That was the problem. Of all the people in this world, good and bad and outright bloodthirsty, Derek found the one woman capable of waltzing right past his best defenses and laying claim to the very organ he thought would never be bothered with again. Derek has long since assumed that, so long as it keeps beating on schedule, he’d never think about his heart unless someone was actively ripping it out of his chest, but Y/N changed that. She changed everything.

It was nothing at first. That’s what he promised himself the first time he woke up in an unfamiliar room that definitely wasn’t in his apartment complex. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he picked up on the sound of someone else breathing evenly next to him, but Y/N had woken up not long after him so they’d been able to talk things through. They’d both agreed that it was a one time thing, the result of years of rising tensions against supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and would never happen again.

The second time, Derek was no less taken aback, but a little more disappointed in himself. Usually, when he makes his word, he sticks to it for longer than a month. He’d left before she woke up that time. Didn’t stop him from crawling back, though. He can blame it on the alcohol that doesn’t affect him, the battle rush of adrenaline he’s long since learned to master. Excuses are easy. Falling is easier still.

Derek doesn’t fall, though. He won’t. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. Derek can lock himself up and cut away his heart and distrust his mind until any conceivable feeling dies off from lack of oxygen. It wouldn’t be the first time. Somehow, he doubts it’ll be the last.

This is all well and good, but it doesn’t work as well as it should. Even now, blinking the last of the past night’s sleep from his eyes, Derek sits up slowly in his own bed, and the sight of Y/N there next to him isn’t surprising. Not at all. His internal alarm system stopped going off around her a long time ago. Hell, he gets more uneasy the longer he goes without seeing her instead of the other way around.

A year ago, he would have called that a mistake. Hales survive because they trust only each other. Y/N may be an ally in this eternally war-torn town, but that does not make her someone he can afford to keep around. Still, when he carefully lifts himself out of bed to avoid waking her, when she comes out of the room about half an hour later in one of his shirts, when Derek can’t quite tell where her perfume ends and his cologne begins, he wonders to himself if he hasn’t already crossed that line a very long time ago.

It doesn’t matter. None of this is real. He doesn’t make her breakfast, she doesn’t say goodbye. They just go about their lives as if the past night had never happened at all, as if none of the nights before that, all stretching out in one vast line of pale, bedsheet-white dominoes do not exist between them. You cannot topple what you do not see, and Derek’s eyes are snapped shut tight.

He’s started noticing things, though, against his better judgment. The furrows in Y/N’s brow vanish while she’s asleep, but they appear again when she looks around at her house or his in the morning and remembers something she’ll never tell him. Her shoulders always rise and pinch together right before she leaves without a word. Derek has started making himself scarce whenever she wakes up. It’s better for both of them if there’s no opportunity to stay any longer.

Most of all, Derek takes care to ensure that whatever happens at night does not affect either of them during the day. Y/N’s more closely allied with the McCall pack than whatever dregs are left of Derek’s ill-gotten attempt to seize power with his own batch of betas, but he still sees her often enough on wolf business. Derek has no doubt that Scott has caught on to the fact that they’re seeing each other, but neither of them will bring it up so long as it doesn’t become a problem.

A couple of times, Derek has felt Scott’s eyes on him like an accusation, burning holes into his shoulders whenever Y/N shows up late or seems listless during the discussions. Derek wants to throw up his hands and declare to anyone who cares to listen or blame him that he’s doing his best to make sure he isn’t the cause, but he doubts any of the younger pack members want to know that he’s specifically trimming off any stem of feeling before it takes root. He’s doing his best, at least. Surely that counts for something.

Still, he can feel their judgment like a plague, even outside of passing glimpses. When Scott McCall shows up at Derek’s door to ask for his help with a sudden hunter shootout at the hospital, Derek can still see the awareness in the back of the kid’s eyes. Y/N’s got her own thing going, Derek wants to clarify, she’s long past school-crush days just like him. They’re both adults and they can do what they please. High school sweethearts all die by hunters’ arrows. The ones who survive don’t play by the rules.

Scott will never bring it up, though, so Derek won’t, either. Instead, he just accompanies Scott to the hospital, where he slashes and stabs at anyone who tries to shoot at him. These sorts of things are becoming normal occurrences by now; Melissa McCall and the other doctors are probably sick of it, but what can you do?

Derek’s only half paying attention. He focuses enough to keep himself alive, but it’s easy to go on autopilot. The hunters will always attack, and they will always defend. Some will get hurt. They’ll heal in time to start the game over again. Nothing new.

It should be nothing new. It is, until Derek rounds a corner and he sees one of the hunters shooting at Y/N’s back. She’s distracted taking out someone else. She won’t react in time, Derek knows it, he can feel it in his bones like a bad frost, and Derek– he actually screams, a guttural shout of despair, and he hurls himself at the hunter. The gun goes flying out of the guy’s hands and into a corner of the room, blood spatters following it a second later. It’s alright again. Y/N is fine.

Y/N, actually, is staring at him in confusion. “What was that about?” She asks slowly.

Derek catches a hazy glimpse of himself in the glass panel of a nearby door and realizes that he looks mad. His eyes are wide, startled, glowing; his claws are out and dripping with gore. “He was going to shoot you,” he says, a little unsteadily, “You weren’t paying attention.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I was, Derek. His gun was empty. No more bullets left, I heard the empty barrel click a minute ago.”

Derek stares at her uncomprehendingly, and Y/N has to cross the room, pick up the fallen hunter’s weapon, and pull the trigger several times until Derek understands. She was right, no ammunition was shot. It was a complete misfire on his end, and something that he should have picked up on far before he decided to strike. If Y/N could hear that the gun was empty from across the room, Derek should have known it from where he stood.

He knows what this means, then. It means he’s making mistakes, and mistakes get you killed. They get everyone killed. Derek hasn’t made a mistake like this in a long time, because he never let anyone in, but he has now, hasn’t he? He’s known it for a long time. Y/N means far more to him than a prolonged one night stand. He has feelings for her, of a depth he couldn’t decipher if given a thousand years trapped inside his own head. Derek Hale has fallen in love, but this love will destroy him. It will make him weak.

And, fuck, Derek knows how this is going to end. How it always ends. He is a fire, consuming everything in his path; burning down his family home; choking the last breath from the lungs of anyone foolish enough to love him. If Y/N realizes that he loves her, if she does something so terrible as to love him back, she will fall before the year is out. They always do, and it will be his fault again, his fault like it was for all the others.

He moves before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N is calling after him, he thinks, but Derek is already rounding the corner and out of the hallway. Hunters in his path are killed by a wolf that might be Derek, if Derek was aware enough of what he was doing to act on anything more than animal instinct. Instead, he just keeps going like a bloodsoaked robot until Scott tells him it’s over, and then he leaves. He does not check in with the rest of the pack. He does not check in with Y/N.

In fact, he does not speak with her again. She tries texting him afterwards to see if he’s alright, and then even shows up at his door when he’s unresponsive for days, but Derek just waits silently in the confines of his apartment until she goes away. She can probably hear his heartbeat, but it doesn’t matter. This will benefit both of them. Neither Derek nor Y/N can afford an attachment like this. He’s already started slipping up in the heat of battle. Who knows what sort of deadly error he will commit next?

If he thought the McCall pack’s judgment was bad enough before, they’re downright diabolical now. He can’t speak to them without being on the receiving end of a thousand hateful stares. Every time he so much as crosses their path, you’d think he murdered their entire family. It’s unreal. Don’t they know he’s doing this for the best?

It’s not like Derek enjoys this, anyway. It’s unnatural. He’s started waking up at odd hours of the night, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. Derek rises with the sun and stares at the empty other half of the bed. He starts to get up quietly and then remembers that there’s no one around who’s still sleeping, so he can be as loud as he pleases. It feels wrong when the floor creaks.

He’s started creeping closer to the door whenever Y/N stops by. He hovers right by the threshold, listening; he can tell by the inflections of her voice that she’s starting to give up hope, and then she stops coming. When a week goes by without a single word from her, Derek thinks that he should be pleased because he’s finally saved her from himself, but instead, all he feels is alone.

It’s not a good feeling, this. Derek thought he would be able to shake off any and all feelings for her in a matter of weeks, but even a month later, he’s still in a terrible state. Lydia starts taking pity on him, he thinks, and actually treats him like a normal human being again, which kind of makes it all worse. He doesn’t want her compassion. He wants–

He wants Y/N. Waking up alone again, hands curling into fists around empty sheets, Derek realizes the earth-shattering truth as if from a dream. He wants her. He wants her more than anything. If this is safety, Derek doesn’t want it. He hates not knowing if she’s alright. He hates thinking that he might have hurt her. If this is the cost of keeping them both alive, Derek would rather be dead.

He throws on his clothes, headed towards the door in a flash. He wakes up early, always has; if he can just get over to her place before she leaves to go to work, maybe it would be okay– maybe she would still want him– maybe he would be enough, now that he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is for him–

Y/N doesn’t open her door at first, which is, admittedly, justified. Derek’s cheeks flush with shame remembering all the times he’d pointedly ignored her visits. However, she’s better than him, always has been, and opens the door eventually. He looks at her, breathes out at last, and says– “I miss you.”

Y/N arches a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” Derek repeats, “And I’ve been– stupid, really, and I shouldn’t have been. I know better than that.”

Y/N folds her arms across her chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“I realized I love you,” Derek says. It’s only five words, but it makes Y/N sway as if she’s been shot.

“You’re just saying that,” she whispers faintly.

Derek shakes her head. “I’m not the type to throw those words around. You know that. You know me better than anyone, Y/N. Tell me if I’m lying.”

He waits. She stares at him, but at last she nods slowly, and says, “You love me?”

“I love you,” he affirms. Then: “Can I come in?”

A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. “Always so forward, aren’t you?”

He laughs a little, actually. It surprises both of them, Derek the most. “I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do,” she admits, and steps aside to let him pass. Derek lingers by her side, he can’t help it. Moments like these were meant to be treasured. He may have messed up too many of them to count, but for once, Derek can start again. He intends to make the most of it.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 10 months

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Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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fic-over-cannon · 2 months

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Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood fic #ydcmb (uibyt) series #sunnie writes 🌻

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agentmaxa · 1 year

Text

Late to the Game (Uswnt x Reader)

Not Requested

Sorry for any mistake, please enjoy.

"Kelley I swear if you don't-

"Sorry Y/n, I can't hear you from all the way down there."

Kelley teased the youngest player of the national team by resting herself on Y/n while propping herself up.

The 17-year-old let out a huff, as the teammates around them laughed at Kelley's antics. Only a handful of them had seen the look in Y/n's eyes that told them this was about to take a turn.

Taking a large step to the side Y/n caused Kelley to fight gravity which was a losing battle.

O'Hara basically face-planted it on the turf and everyone burst out laughing.

Y/n chucked along as Kelley got up.

"You think that's funny?" Kelley teased.

Y/n replied, "Absolutely hilarious."

Causing O'Hara to purse Y/n while shouting, "Get back here shortstack!"

-----

Y/n went to get a ball from off the sidelines, picking it up in hopes of doing a few tricks to pass the time during a small break in practice.

Until O'Hara bumped into Y/n by accident. "Oh, sorry L/n-"

"It's fine-"

"Guess I just didn't see you from all the way down there."

"It's one freaking inch," Y/n said exasperated, over the fact that Kelley kept pointing it out.

Kelley chucked to herself, "That's what she said."

On any other day, Y/n would have found that humorous as well.

But not today.

"That's it!"

Y/n tackled Kelley to the ground, putting her in a headlock, and attempting to give Kelley a noogie.

They tossed with each other for a few minutes gaining the attention of most of the team.

"Hey look, they're starting a new line of mini WWE Wrestlers for the national team."

Sam and Sonnett joked as they saw Y/n and O'Hara's roughhousing had turned into a little bit of a wrestling match.

Unfortunately, for them, Kelley and Y/n had also heard the comment.

Partially out of breath, Y/n looked at Kelley, "Truce?"

"Truce."

The two grinned and Sonnett and Sam soon realized their mistake.

"Nonononon- wait!"

Nothing was stopping Kelley as she tackled Sonnett to the ground while Y/n pursued Sam.

Chasing her, Y/n gained enough speed to leap onto Sam's back dragging her down to the ground the two laughing as they stayed there for a little.

Only interrupted by the whistle calling the whole team to circle up.

Y/n and Sam got up but saw Kelley had sat on Sonnett's back keeping the woman down.

"O'Hara, I'm warning you."

"I'd like to see you- AAAHH!"

Kelley tried to grasp onto something but Sonnett managed to throw Kelley off and get up.

"How's it feel being down there for a change?" Y/n teased.

"Pretty nice actually, maybe move to the left a bit. You're not blocking the sun enough, mini."

-----

Getting ready to leave for the plane, Y was packing some final things.

"Ready to leave already squirt?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Y/n turned to O'Hara.

"Almost."

"I'm still not sure how you're okay with this."

"Do I have a choice?"

Kelley shrugged her shoulders.

Y/n wasn't going to the World Cup. Reason being there were more players with more caps under them to choose from. Y/n had done the camps and games but just didn't make the cut.

"I mean I know it's not the worst thing possible for you but just saying you've proved your spot more than enough."

"Let's be real here Kels you just need me so you have a headrest."

"That too."

"Just don't lose too badly out there."

Kelley dawning a hurt expression, "I see how it is."

The woman took Y/n by surprise, taking them both down, and roughhousing ended in fits of laughter.

-----

Y/n was woken by the blaring alarm, "Nnnnooooo."

As tempting as the snooze button was Y/n knew being late wasn't an option.

Gathering some belonging and packed luggage Y/n heard a familiar voice from just beyond the bedroom door.

"Sweetheart you up?"

"Yeah, I'll be downstairs in a few Dad."

Getting everything ready, Y/n left a few things by the front door and headed into the kitchen to see Dad and Papa.

"Ready for another camp, sprout?"

"Yeah, although I do wish you'd stop calling me that. The sprouting has stopped in case you haven't noticed."

"And did I ever say anything when you called me Pop-pop?"

Y/n laughed, "I haven't called you that since I was like eight."

"Your point?"

Y/n let out a chuckle, "Okay Pop-pop. I need to get going, don't want to miss my flight."

"Wait, I packed you a small snack."

"Dad small or normal people small?"

Y/n teased Dad knowing sometimes he over-packed.

"Har-har. I just want you to have options."

"Love you too, old man." Y/n kissed his temple as he drank his coffee grabbing the bag that had the 'snack' in it.

Y/n looked down a little as Papa could kiss the top of Y/n's head.

Hurrying out of the house Y/n heard one of them say, "Call us when you land!"

"Always do!"

-----

Y/n walked into the hotel lobby, not seeing anyone else yet Y/n just checked in with the receptionist.

Heading up to the room, Y/n double-checked for any messages left by the team.

Hearing the elevator open to the room floor Y/n walked out and then did a final check on messages from anyone and saw one from Ash.

'Do you have a tall twin by chance?'

Not even replying Y/n looked to the elevator to see Ash and Ali already trying to figure out who just walked past them.

"Hey, guys."

"Bubs?!"

Ali and Ash both said the nickname they personally had for Y/n, shocked that this was the same person.

"A few inches taller but yeah."

Ash, without warning, ran towards Y/n, clinging to Y/n like a koala to a tree.

"No growing up anymore!"

Y/n lightheartedly chuckled, thinking about how Dad and Papa nearly had the same reaction when noticing the very late and sudden growth spurt.

"Don't worry, I think this is as tall as I go."

Y/n put Ash down. Ali was looking at Ash and Y/n with a smile, noticing Y/n must've only been an inch or two taller than Ash.

"It better be." Ash acknowledged that Y/n was the tallest out of the three.

"Alright, come here bubs." Y/n smiled at Ali, not used to leaning down while hugging the majority of the team.

"It's good to see you guys again."

"I didn't know Sam was here." The three heard Crystal's voice, the hug ending.

Y/n turned around, "Hey Dunn."

The woman just put a hand on her hip, "Well if this isn't a surprise."

"Believe me, I'm still getting used to it myself."

"I'm gonna miss my short buddy."

"I mean I'm pretty sure that just means I give better piggybacks."

-----

Giggling and laughter were heard through the hallway to the cafeteria.

Everyone turned to see who was making the commotion.

Suddenly Y/n came through the doorway with Dunn piggybacking. Both laughed at the situation.

Nearly every person froze. Not seeing Y/n since the last camp before the World Cup.

Dunn got off of Y/n's back, giving the young player a pat between the shoulder blades.

"Shortstack?!"

"Hey, Kels," Y/n said nervously as Kelley's jaw went slack.

"You're.... you're..."

"Tower of Power 2.o?"

As Kelley continued to fumble Sam walked up to Y/n, "Damn, yeah. Welcome to tall people club."

Sam smiled seeing Y/n was still around an inch shorter than her.

While everyone went back to what they were doing before the chaos, Sam and Y/n sat together with Kelley, Sonnett, and a few others.

"Hitting your head a lot?" Sam inquired.

"Not as much, mainly when I just don't think about it."

"Don't worry, you'll learn to auto-duck."

Y/n chuckled, "I think I'll just miss the lost bed space. My bed feels so small now."

Sam nodded in solace.

"The price we pay."

"Were you bitten by a radioactive spider?"

The whole table kind of froze and slowly turned to Kelley.

"Not that I recall?" Y/n answered a little confused

"I'll find out soon enough."

"You wanna tango with my extra muscle, O'Hara?"

While not the most notable change in Y/n, the growth spurt caused Y/n to eat more and in turn, needed to work off more food. It also meant more time in the gym to work out some muscles.

Kelley thinking Y/n just meant the height difference mumbled, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."

Y/n shrugged the woman off.

"Well, none of that matters because now I get to ride all the grown-up rides!"

The enthusiasm caused the room to erupt in laughter.

#uswnt x reader #woso x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #woso imagine #woso imagines

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fictionalwh0ree · 2 years

Text

golden globes- austin butler

gif creds to @dearaustinbutler

summary: you embarrassingly crash into your celebrity crush at the golden globes and then, by what seems like fate, get seated right next to him.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none

pt. 2

you clutched onto your long dress, lifting it slightly as you climbed up the few stairs of the golden globes red carpet. the area was filled with people; staff and celebrities, some you knew, others, you didn’t. the clicking of the paparazzi you had just moved past on the carpet was still in earshot and the abundance of cameras everywhere was not helping your nerves. being a shy person who caught a big break and had your life flipped upside down almost overnight, you were left with no time to adjust.

one of the staff began to guide you to the two interviewers who were currently standing alone. you collected yourself and took a deep breath as you walked towards them. you noticed the woman signaling to the cameras. you smiled widely as they greeted you. once past formalities and compliments, they moved to ask you questions about the movie that had gotten you nominated for best actress in a drama motion picture.

finally, the brief interview was reaching its end and they asked their last question.

“is there any celebrity you’re hoping to meet while you’re here?” the woman asked.

“umm,” you began, giggling a little as you thought.

“maybe natasha lyonne. i love but i’m a cheerleader. it’s one of my favourites, and orange is the new black,” you continued, “and also, i feel like this is really basic, but austin butler. i mean elvis was just, incredible. i really admire his dedication to his role and just how much effort he put into making that movie.”

“i agree completely. good luck,” the man concluded.

you gave them both a short hug before walking off and waiting for another member of the staff to guide you into the actual room. you checked in and were given your table and seat number on a paper. you began to walk between the busy tables in search of your own. your head swivelled from side to side as you looked at the placeholders, when suddenly, you crashed into a tall figure in front of you. you immediately stepped back and before he could even turn around, you were apologizing, your cheeks heating up.

“i’m so sorry,” you said, wide-eyed.

“it’s all good,” the man, you now recognized as the austin butler, said.

your jaw dropped slightly as you stared. as if crashing into some stranger at your first golden globes wasn’t embarrassing enough, it just had to be him. not only did you love elvis, but you’d begun to harbour a small crush on the man. yes, you’d said you’d wanted to meet him in your interview, but did you totally mean it? no. especially not this way. you realized that you were staring when a smile began to tug at austin’s lips and he tipped his head forward slightly, waiting for you to speak again.

“i’m really really sorry,” you began.

“i was just looking for my seat and i wasn’t looking where i was going. this is my first time here, not that i didn’t make that obvious enough by crashing into you like an idiot and all,” you rambled, not able to meet his eyes.

“it’s okay, really,” he laughed, “here, let me help you find your seat.”

he moved to stand next to you as you pulled your paper out. his entire left arm was pressed against yours and he held one side of the tiny paper, you holding the other. he leaned down as well, his head now near yours as he examined the paper, squinting slightly.

“you’re in luck,” he said, “i’m sitting at the same table.”

he smiled at you and you smiled back weakly, trying to hide the fact that you felt like you were going to melt out of embarrassment. you followed him as he walked between the tables until slowing down.

“i think our table is right… here,” he said, coming to a stop.

he pulled your chair out from under for you and signalled for you to sit. you did just that and he proceeded to push your chair in before he took his own seat, right by your side.

“thank you,” you said, turning towards him.

“no problem,” he responded.

“i’m y/n, by the way,” you said.

“yeah, uh, i know,” he said laughing nervously, his cheeks taking on a pink tint.

“i watched your movie, it was amazing. you were incredible,” he continued, the compliment making that familiar heat rise to your cheeks yet again.

“thank you,” you said shyly, “i watched elvis, too.”

“did you enjoy it?” he asked expectingly.

“yes! oh my god, yes. i mean, i was always a fan of his music and the movie just made it better. not to mention, you were amazing,” you said.

“thank you,” austin said, his voice deep and thick with a hint of elvis’s accent still remaining.

jerrod carmichael, the host for the evening, called everyone’s attention to announce that the awards ceremony would be starting in five minutes.

“i haven’t met that many people nowadays that were fans of elvis before the movie,” austin spoke again after the brief interruption.

“i love his music. i have a bunch of his vinyls. i don’t really care how many times i have his songs repeated on different albums, i always buy them,” you said.

“you collect records?” he asked, intrigued, to which you nodded.

“so i’m assuming you like old music?” he asked.

“i love it,” you answered, “old rock mostly. elvis, the kinks, hendrix, zeppelin, motley crue, joan jett, y’know? all that stuff.”

“oh wow. you have records for all of them?” he asked curiously.

“yeah,” you confirmed, “do you collect?”

“i started, but i can guarantee your collection is way better than mine,” he said, laughing lightly.

“oh, i’m sure you have a good collection too,” you assured, causing him to laugh.

“no no,” he said, still laughing, causing you to laugh too.

“it can’t be that bad,” you said, smiling widely.

“well considering it’s mostly hand-me-down shitty yacht rock and hall and oates, i’d say it is,” he smiled.

“hey, don’t shit on hall and oates,” you said playfully.

“alright, alright,” he said, an amused look in his eyes, “you’re right, hall and oates is good.”

“that’s better,” you laughed.

“y’know, i’d really love to see your collection,” austin spoke, a hint of shyness in his voice and a pink hue reaching his cheeks again.

“here, i’ll give you my number and we’ll arrange it,” you smirked.

“okay then,” he said, satisfied with himself as he pulled his phone out and handed it to you.

you typed in your name and number, trying to suppress the jitters you had from the fact that you were giving your celebrity crush your phone number.

the lights dimmed and the crowd went silent, marking the beginning of the eventful night, and although you were at the golden globes, you couldn’t wait for it to be over so he would text you.

#austin butler imagine #austin butler x y/n #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you

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woodspr1te · 2 years

Text

possessive!miles quaritch headcanons

summary: miles quaritch often makes his claim on you known… not that you really mind

warning: (poorly done) nsfw content ahead. also written with x afab!reader in mind, and includes several afab terms. vague? angst for like 3 seconds.

this man has lost everything, so when it comes to you??? he’s not taking any chances

constantly says something about you being his, even in the most normal of conversations....

lyle’s bothering you? he’s promptly told off with a “wainfleet. leave my woman alone.”

AND GOD FORBID ANYONE EVER MAKES A COMMENT TOWARDS YOU

the immediate eyebrow crease when he hears it. his ears tilt down, and flatten against his head. he grips the person’s shoulder as tight as possible, practically crushing it. his smile is almost lethal by itself with the amount of fang it shows, as he leans closer to them. “say another word about my girl again, and i’ll make sure any na’vi arrows are the least of your worries”

keeps you basically pressed against him at all times. hands on your waist, gripping your ass, entangling your fingers in his... this list is endless

his favorite thing to do of all time is to press himself against you whenever you’re doing something. burying his face into your neck and nuzzling as close as he can while he breathes in your scent

he also enjoys grinding his hips against you while he presses gentle kisses to the back of your neck, hoping to get some attention

needy needy NEEDY man. i said what i said

he’s so desperate 24/7 honestly this man is a slut for you

the amount of times you’ve come back to your home with miles’s pants on the floor and him fucking his fist is unreal

you’ll watch from the doorway as he fists his cock, his tip an angry purple hue with precum leaking out

he’s already panting, making full eye contact as he mumbles out “get your ass over here so i can cum on those pretty tits, baby”

he has a thing for marking you with his cum

you’re lucky if you leave the room without smelling like sex for the next year, body aching from the number he does on you

has a thing for scenting you too. literally will rub his head and neck all over your body to cover you in his scent so others know you’re spoken for.

his recom body goes through heat? even worse. you’re literally unable to be seen for a week, and he’s constantly pumping you full of his cum

he won’t let you get up for a while after you both finish. his arms are caging you in tight as he presses butterfly kisses to your shoulder, sucking your skin lightly and nipping so it’ll bruise

he marks you UPPPPPPP like to the max

nothing can ever cover them up. and if you wear na’vi clothing? good luck.

your hips have faint fingertip marks all the time. it’s practically part of your skin now from how hard he grips them when bouncing you on his dick

HICKEYS. he has the mind of a teenage boy sometimes okay and all he cares about is everyone seeing how good you let him make you feel

bite marks. miles puts those teeth to use, okay. they litter the inside of your thighs and hip bones. he enjoys watching you squirm as he marks you up, especially when he’s taking his time eating you out

you cum on his fingers once when he bites your hip? he’ll do it every time from then on

prides himself on how good he makes you feel. when he’s fucking you from the back and you’re crying out for him, he’ll pull you up against his chest, wrapping his arm around you. then, he’ll make you tell him how good it feels or you don’t get to cum

you comply?? he’ll make you do it over and over. “who’s my good little slut?” “you like the way i make you feel? tell me how good this dick is.” “such a good girl, my good girl.” “nobody else is ever gonna give you this. only i can fuck you like this, right princess?”

YOU’RE A BRAT??? good luck. he will make you beg and then overstim you to eywa and back. “only good girls get to finish. you think you’ve been my good girl?” “tell me you’re mine and i’ll think about letting you cum.” “who does this pussy belong to? that’s fucking right. me. say it.”

fucks you in front of mirrors so you can see how well he fits inside you. loves to fuck you with your hands pressed against the glass as he grips your throat and murmurs “you see that sloppy little cunt? look at how perfect it fits around me. look at how good you take my cum”

has a big thing for cockwarming and aftercare cuz he really loves you. runs his hands up and down your body, kissing your head as he mumbles how proud you made him and how you’re his sweet girl. makes sure to press all of his cum back into you, and presses a little bit down on your clit every time he does just to be a fucking tease.

he just wants to know you’ll love him for the rest of time and that he’s yours. as much as he loves hearing you say you’re his, he needs to know he belongs to you as well

you even jokingly tell him he’s your big, strong mate? he’s literally purring, tail swishing back and forth with happiness.

has such a strong urge to protect you. places his body in front of yours when there’s a suspicious noise. won’t let you out of his sight for a second.

miles LOVESSSSS when you seem like you need him. can’t sleep and you wake him up for comfort?

at first, he seems a little grumpy, but the moment he realizes it’s you his voice turns soft. “sweetheart… baby, what’s wrong? c’mere, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna touch my girl, not while i’m here”

he’s not possessive in a “jealous of every man” kind of way. although he wouldn’t like the way some people look at you, it’s about you choosing to leave him/abandoning him more than anything

he’s lost so much already. his human self, his dignity, his son, the war…. but losing you would truly break him

ESPECIALLY if you are na’vi. not even recom. he doesn’t want your clan to steal you back, can’t let you betray him

it would terrify him if you both fought and you brought up leaving. perhaps it would be about the actions of specops or the rda’s actions. regardless, your cry of “i can’t fucking do this anymore, miles” stops him dead in his tracks

his throat feels like it’s closing. he has barely breathed in 10 seconds, and the silence between you both is deafening

you shook your head, turning away from him. “miles… i love you, but i can’t-”

“don’t fucking go. you promised you’re mine.” he interrupts you almost immediately, and he’s a lot closer than you remembered. he sounds broken, almost wounded

you swallow, looking down as you take his hands in yours. “my miles…”

he interrupts you again, pressing his forehead against yours. “you love me? then stay, please. we can figure it out, baby. we’re mates, right? m’not stupid, i know what it did when we made tsaheylu. i chose you forever, so choose me.”

he’s whipped, mkay. literally would rather saw his own tail off then hear you say you’re leaving him

lowkey freaks out if you ever get injured. he keeps a very calm facade, and perhaps even scolds you with a light “c’mon baby, what the hell were you thinking” but he’s secretly so happy you’re gonna be okay

shows you off at ANY AND EVERY possible chance

you walk in a room? “there she is! been looking all over for you, baby.”

hyper-aware of your reactions. he notices you’ve favoring one kind of fruit more, and all the suddenly he’s gathered 20 of them for your consumption

prides himself on being the best mate possible for you, and he’s going to make sure you know it too

#avatar 2 #avatar x reader #colonel miles quaritch #avatar #miles quaritch headcanon #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #avatar smut #avatar imagine #avatar headcanons #i know it’s not the best okay but we’re not talking abt that

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crienneoftarth · 11 months

Text

Wildest Dreams pt. III

Larissa Weems x inexperienced!fem reader

notes: pls don’t ask why it took so much less time to write this chapter… im sure you can guess. once again, ive never written smut so… im doing my best. also i am not here for realism, but for fun. so if shit does not make sense, that’s not on me tbh lmao

warnings: THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY SMUTTY. 18+ only! mommy kink, oral (cunnilingus), strap-on, reader is SO subby (a bit of self insert mayhaps)

🖤 part I, II, and ao3 🖤

As you straddle her thighs, you suddenly become very aware of how wet you already are for her. You wanted her so badly and now she would definitely be able to tell. It was impossible to hide, especially after she began to kiss you again and you couldn’t help but buck your hips, aching for a moment of contact. The older woman chuckles at your eagerness in between kisses.

Her voice lowers into almost a grow and she grabs your hips tightly, “I can feel how bad you want me, my thigh is soaked from your grinding…”

Just her saying that made it even worse. In that tone, her accent, it was too much. You try to hide in her neck out of embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry, Larissa…” You were basically out of breathe at this point but you tried to hold yourself still.

You feel her long fingers and nails snake their way into your hair before she whispers, “Don’t be sorry, pet. Keep going and don’t stop until I say so, understood?”

Whimpering softly as you nod, her fingers now tugging at your hair and her lips trailing kisses down your neck. “No… I need to hear you say it… Use your words for me, darling.”

“I understand, Larissa.” You manage to say, as you feel her other hand coming up your thigh and your hips begin to grind against her, once again.

The blonde can’t help but moan at the sound of her name, “Mmmm… I do love hearing my name coming out of your pretty mouth, but I would much prefer mommy… Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes, mommy. I’ll do anything you ask!” Your hips begin to move faster, needlessly begging for more contact. Larissa’s lips are still on your neck, slowly leaving red lipstick and purple marks on your skin. The blonde hums into the crook of your neck as her fingers reach your lace panties, “Such a good girl, I suppose it’s time for me to reward you for being so obedient.” Suddenly her fingers pull your panties to the side before plunging one finger into your core. You cry out as she fills you and begins to thrust her palm against your swollen clit.

Larissa hasn’t stopped nipping at your neck even as she’s fucking you, “Will you take another finger for me, sweetling?”

“Yes, mommy-! Please…” You were already so close to cumming but you waited for permission. Larissa eagerly pushed another finger inside, moaning at the feeling of your slick folds taking her so easily.

“‘Rissa… M-mommy, I’m so close already…!” You stumble on your words, completely out of breath as your hips vigorously move against her hand.

“Oh, is that so, darling? Well I’m not sure I want you to cum quite yet. I have other plans for you.” She snickers as she pulls her fingers out of your aching core. You let out a whimper as her nails graze over your clit, your eyes are practically full of needy tears as you realize that she’s stopped.

“Don’t worry, pet. If you keep being good, I’ll finish you off.” You watch as she slowly brings her fingers that were just inside of you to her faded red lips. Your eyes meet as she sticks out her tongue, licking your juices from them, before pulling them into her mouth and letting out a deep moan. After a moment, she pulls them out with a popping sound.

“Fuck, you taste divine. I wouldn’t expect any less from such a beautiful woman.” She leans forward and pulls you into a deep kiss. Her tongue pushes its way into your mouth, the faint taste of you on her tongue causes you to moan. You pull away from her lips and take her hand, pushing the same two fingers in your mouth. The blonde smiles and closes her eyes as your tongue dances around her long fingers. After a moment, she pulls them back out and gently kisses you.

Your pupils fully dilated with lust and yearning, you ask what she would like for you to do.

Larissa giggles softly, “So eager to please, hmm? So adorable. Here… I want you to do something for me now, alright?”

You nod obediently. Your legs were weak and shaky but you managed to get up off of her lap and sit on the soft mattress next to her. She grins and stands up in front of you. Turning around, she loops her fingers around both straps of her dress. She glances back to see you staring with your mouth practically on the floor. You blush as she laughs at you, before facing away again and slowly pulling her dress down her delicate curves.

The pale blue dress falls to the floor and you realize that the older woman wasn’t wearing anything underneath the entire time. You blush thinking about how close you were to her and you were none the wiser.

You studied each of her silver curls that laid gently over her shoulders and back before tracing the rest of her pale curves. You could stare at her forever and memorize every freckle, wrinkle and line. The tall woman turns around in her heels and gives you another moment to take in your new view of her body. She giggles as you inhale sharply at the sight of her. “Do me a favor, sweetheart? There’s a… Treat for you in the bottom drawer of the nightstand there.”

You swallow roughly before leaning over the bed, reaching the bottom drawer she mentioned. Your mind went through the million things that could await you as you slowly opened it, revealing a blue silicone dildo that was already attached to a harness. Your eyes widened and you looked over at Larissa, who had a devilish smile on her face. “Bring it here, won’t you, my darling?”

Your face was hot as you walked over to her, dildo in hand. “Thank you, sweetling. Now, go ahead get those clothes off for me, alright? I’ll help you into this.”

Your eyes grow big while she takes the toy in her hand, slowly stepping out of your skirt and removing the blouse you were wearing. She examines you closely as you strip before leaning over to help you into the harness. You step into it carefully and she pulls it up over your legs, adjusting the straps tightly.

“I-I’ve never worn one of these… I’m not sure I know what to do…” You say nervously as she stands back up in front of you. You try not to look at the toy protruding from your pelvis, embarrassed at how you look to her.

She gently takes your face in one hand, “I know you’ll be perfect. And if you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, please, don’t hesitate to tell me. Okay, sweetheart?”

You kiss her hand and nod, “I’ll be okay, I’m just nervous.”

“I’ll teach you, you’ll be a pro in no time, I promise.” She giggles and pulls you into a kiss. After a few kisses, she steps back and lays back onto the bed. You blush at the sight of her spreading her thighs for you. You still couldn’t believe you had even gotten into this situation at all, let alone with such a goddess of a woman. You were shy but tried to be as confident as you possibly could, to please her. Climbing onto the bed, she smiled at you as you got in a comfortable position between her legs.

“I want your tongue in me first… Will you do that?”

“Of course, mommy. Anything for you…” You had been waiting all night to taste her and now she was spread just for you. You could see that she was dripping onto the sheets, just the sight of her like this was enough to send you over the edge. Laying on your stomach in front of her, you kiss down her thighs and leave little nibbles as you approach closer to her center. She was already moaning and whimpering at the feeling of your teeth against her soft skin.

Her fingers tangled themselves in your hair as you started to gently lap up her wet folds. After a moment of teasing her clit, she pulls your head closer. “Y-your tongue… Feels so good, darling. I want to feel it inside me. No more teasing.” She tells you sternly, trying not to beg but you could tell she was on the verge of whimpering for you. As much as you wanted to teaser her a little longer, you did as you were told and your tongue made its way into her warm center. Her thighs quickly tightened around your head as your tongue explored her, you pushed them back apart without thinking of the possible consequences. All she could do was moan at your sudden change in confidence, “That’s a good girl… You feel so fucking good.”

Her hips began to buck against the motions of your tongue and the vibrations of your own moans against her. She pulls up your head, both of you out of breath and her wetness glistening on your chin, “Put that cock to good use for me now, okay? I know you’ll be perfect for mommy.”

You climb up to her lips to kiss her and she licks the juices from your face, before pulling you into a kiss. One of your hands makes its way to her hardened nipple, gently squeezing as you begin to kiss down her chin and neck. You take the other nipple into your mouth as you continue to gently pinch the other between your fingers.

“Baby… Fuck… I want you inside of me so bad…” She lets out in between pornographic moans.

Your tongue flicks her nipple before biting down and she cries out as your teeth graze the sensitive skin. “Fuck me, right now…” she orders, roughly pulling the toy to her cunt. “Put your fucking cock in me now!”

You waste no time and do as you're told, pushing the toy inside of her slowly at first. The moan she lets out once you’re fully inside of her makes your body shiver. You take a moment to get used to the motions, watching her every reaction to your movements, wishing you were actually inside of her and feeling her walls contract around you. You can’t take your eyes off of each other. Even as she squirms underneath you, her eyes stay locked onto yours, glossed over with lust.

She wanted every inch of the toy you were pushing into her eager cunt. “More, darling… I can take it, you can be a little rough with me…” She says breathlessly, chuckling softly, her breasts moving to the rhythm of your thrusts. You want her to cum so badly, you want to please her, so you move your hips harder and faster against her. The sound of your bodies hitting each other gets louder as you continue to push deeper inside her.

“Oh my god… I knew you would be so good at this. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.”

You watch as her beautiful blue eyes roll back into her head and her back arches as you move into a slower rhythm, leaning over and burying your face into her neck. She drags her fingernails down your back and you cry out. “Don’t whine. I didn’t tell you to slow down, pet. You don’t get to stop until I say so.” She sternly growls into your ear. You quickly return to speed, you could never refuse what she asks of you.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. You don’t get to stop until I cum all over your cock, understand?”

“Y-yes, mommy… I won’t stop, I promise…” You manage to say and continue pounding into her. The feeling of the harness pushing against your own clit made it difficult to not orgasm yourself, but you knew you would be punished if you let yourself cum before her. But maybe you wanted to be punished by her… Maybe you wanted her to throw you over her knee and spank you until tears spilled down your cheeks and your ass was completely red. Maybe you wanted her to tie you to the bed and made you watch her fuck herself without letting you touch her. The thought of her disciplining you and absolutely ruining you causes your entire body to quiver.

Then you hear her. She screams out your name as she’s on the verge of orgasming. You never wanted anyone else to say your name ever again, it belonged to her.

You belonged to her.

And you both knew it.

You lean back upright so you can witness her beautiful face as she cums for you. Your hands steady her hips as you keep thrusting as deep as you can into her dripping cunt. Her hands grip the sheets on either side of her as she cries out, screaming endless profanities. You were honestly impressed with yourself that you could make her feel this way with your inexperience. But you had no time to get cocky before you realized her back had arched off of the bed as she reached climax… At last, it had happened so fast and yet it felt like hours.

The cock was pushed out by her contracting walls, causing her to let out a whine when it came out of her. You looked down and saw the soaking mess you made of her and you licked your lips with delight and desire.

She smiles at you and between heavy breaths she says, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, sweetheart, but I do believe it’s time for me to thank you properly.”

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added!)-

@aemilia19

#gwendoline christie #Larissa weems #lesbian smut #lesbian fic #lesbian #lgbtq #lgbt #principal weems #principal Larissa weems #Larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #Larissa weems fic #Larissa weems smut #Larissa x reader #Larissa x you #not beta read idgaf im brave #willow writes

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

srew

srew [sɾ·ɛw] vin. dance

You teach Neteyam a traditional Metkayina dance, and he can't get you out of his head.

Perched on a rock near the water, just on the outskirts of the party, Neteyam crosses his arms and watches the intricate dance. The Metkayina sway and twist, coming together and pulling apart, moving their arms in intricate patterns together, and he is in awe.

Somehow, Lo'ak is keeping up with his dance partner, Tsireya. He would've never thought Lo'ak could move in a way that could almost be described as gracefully, but Tsireya is a great teacher, after all.

Two women have approached Neteyam to dance, but he's too nervous about the intricacy of the movement on the dance floor, and he's declined them both - but then, he sees her approaching.

He doesn't know her name, but he's seen her around. Tsireya told him that she has a garden, just on the other side of the tree line, and spends most of her time tending to it in order to help feed the clan.

She's tall, taller than most of the Metkayina woman around her age, which Neteyam guesses is 19 or 20, the same as him. Her hair is long, nearly to her waist, and always in one thick braid. Something about the way she walks, the sway of it, and the dirt permanently under her fingernails, has always drawn Neteyam's attention.

He knows that if she asks him to dance, he'll have to make a fool of himself, because he won't be able to say no.

I pull my braid over my shoulder, nervously fingering at it as I approach Neteyam. Over the course of the evening, I have watched two women approach and try to bring him to the dance floor, and he's said no both times.

So, I've decided on another approach, one that will hopefully allow him to look less nervous here, and allow me to spend a little time with him. Admittedly, I've wanted that for a while.

"Neteyam Sully, what are you doing over here all alone? All of your siblings are participating in the fun," I say, trying to sound light-hearted and not nervous as I arrive at the rock he's perched upon.

He shrugs and smiles. "Just watching," he replies, and it's followed by a nearly-awkward pause until he says, "Are you having fun?"

"I am. But I thought... you might want to learn a dance. They can be kind of complex. I could teach you, over here. So you don't have to try it out there." I nod over my shoulder, to the crowd of dancers.

Neteyam stares at me, considering for only a moment, before standing up and jumping down. Relief washes over me; I wouldn't have been able to stand it if I was the third woman rejected by him this evening.

"Okay, but I probably won't be any good at it," he says, pushing his braids out of his face and taking a few steps towards me.

"It's easier than it looks," I say, extending my arms to him. He takes his hands in mine. "It's just a few basic steps to start, and we'll build on it, okay?"

He takes a deep breath, and follows my feet, concentrating so hard that it makes me smile.

We repeat the same six steps, over and over, until he seems to have it down.

"Now, with your arms, like this," I say, stepping closer to him, and he mimics the sweeping motions with my arms. We add that in, practicing until he no longer stumbles, or forgets. All the while, he's extremely focused, watching my movements, mirroring them.

"You're a natural!" I exclaim, and Neteyam laughs. "Now, pull me in close, and lock your arm through mine, like this," I instruct, and he follows my lead. He pulls me in close, and I step away, repeating the dance, and then I pull him in close again.

We smile at each other, almost nose to nose.

"Maybe next celebration, you can join with everyone," I say after much practice. We've stopped dancing, but Neteyam is still holding my hands, and I don't have any plans to pull away.

"Only if you're there with me." He squeezes my hands as he says it, and I try not to blush.

"I would be honored to dance with you, Neteyam Sully."

Neteyam walks home with a grin painted ear to ear that night, not even noticing as his mother sneaks up behind him.

"Did you have a fun night?" she asks, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. "You did not join the dancing. Your brother made quite a show of himself."

Neteyam smiles, and Neytiri laughs.

"He danced well," Neteyam says. "I don't know the dances."

"Oh, I think you know them a little bit. Now."

Neteyam raises his brow at her, and she laughs teasingly. "Y/N is a very nice girl. She contributes much to her people, with her garden."

"Y/N," Neteyam says, realizing that he didn't ask her for her name. "Yeah. She's nice."

Neytiri touches her son's shoulder as they near their home. "She would make any man a fine mate."

Neteyam rolls his eyes. "Mom!"

But Neytiri notices the blush on his cheek, and saw the smile on his face while he danced with the Metkayina woman.

If she were to place a bet, she would say there would be a new Sully within the next six months.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow

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icycoldninja · 1 month

Note

Do you know how in every Soulsborne games, there is almost always one maiden present in the game

For example in Elden Ring there’s Tarnished (the player) and Melina:

In Bloodborne, it’s The Hunter (the player) and the Plain Doll:

Another example is the Ashen one (the player) and the Firekeeper:

Can you write a maiden reader and the DMC boys following this relationship archetype, basically a knight and a maiden but here’s a catch:

The boys venture to an abandoned castle on Mallet Island to find Mundus and then that’s where they find an awkward young woman, who seems pretty sketchy at first due to how awkward she is (can’t really blame her since she’s been kidnapped and locked away by Mundus ever since she was a young teenager till now so her communication skills are rather f-ed up)

So naturally they keep their guards up around her…and her, although very wary around them, has to do her job as a maiden which is to serve them in every possible way regardless of their offer even if she may feel uncomfortable doing so like trying to offer them help like bringing them warm water, medication, letting them vent to her, bringing them books to cure their boredom, etc…Much to her surprise, even though they do generally accept her care from time to time, they would never force her to do something that genuinely makes her feel uncomfortable a.k.a prostitution which is something a lot of men who came to the castle request her to do it after a certain period of time

Time after time, they gradually grow close with each other, sharing their thoughts and insecurities and in return offers comfort for one and another (usually it’s the reader letting them sleep on her lap and patting their back in a nurturing way). It really is a fresh breathe of air for the reader because for so long she has yet to form such a close bond with someone else that is not in an unhelpful or abusive way (she fell first but he fell harder trope)

When the boys finished their goals, they no longer need to stay on the island and when the news arrive, the reader was scared because they’ll leave her just like many others do when she already so attached to them. Originally, she was tasked by Mundus to pry out any information from them but she can’t bring herself to do it because of how nice they are to her and now she can’t bring herself to confront them abt her original purpose because that would mean they would have more of a reason to hate her and that’s the last thing she wants, to be hated by the only person who have shown you kindness throughout the abuse and manipulation you have undergone your entire life

So she begs them to forgive and at the same time, if they can’t do that then at least dispatch her so that she no longer has to suffer under the hands of Mundus

——————————————————————————————————————-————————————————————————————————————————————

P/S: if you can, pls write a reader with a poor posture and just generally not really attractive like Rya from Elden Ring. I can’t find any good pictures of Rya without her being goonified so I use my oc as an example (It’s not an OC x DMC boys)

Sure, sure. Sorry this took so long to get to.

Sparda boys + V x Maiden!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante ended up traveling to some abandoned castle on Mallet Island during his search for Mundus, where they find this...odd young lady.

-See, she wasn't conventionally attractive and had very poor posture, making her appear a bit...lifeless.

-He didn't trust someone as sketchy as you, and kept his guard up even as you followed him around, offering advice about the castle, bringing him water and things, though where these items came from was questionable.

-Time passes, and Dante gets used to you, growing comfortable enough to let you sleep on his lap and such. You might be a bit weird looking, but you're a sweet soul whom he's starting to really bond with.

-When Dante finished his business on Mallet Island, he had to leave, which disheartened you because you were afraid he would abandon you. What made things worse was, you didn't want to reveal your true reasons for befriending him, because if you did, he might be even more inclined to just disappear without a trace, and that was the last thing you wanted.

-Turns out, Dante planned to take you with him all along, and now that you're free from Mallet Island, you don't have to worry about your original mission, though there is the threat of demons coming to look for you.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was searching for Mundus to get revenge for all that had happened to him, when he discovered this bizarre woman.

-You were an stooped lady who looked unhealthily pale, carrying an eerie aura and generally seeming like someone who would work with demons--or is a demon.

-This didn't stop you from guiding him through the castle, bringing him food, water, and books when he needed to rest, and keeping him company despite his blatant hatred of human interaction.

-After some time, Vergil felt himself warming up to you, even letting you use his lap as a pillow while he read from the books you brought him. You were an odd looking person, but he liked you.

-When he finished his business and prepared to depart, you started panicking, trying so hard to keep him in the castle that it became extremely suspicious. Vergil asked you why you didn't want him to leave, and you confessed your true intentions, telling him how Mundus wanted to use you as a spy, but you just didn't have the heart to.

-Vergil scoffed at that and told you that if you hated being abandoned, just come with him. He was sure there was an extra room at Devil May Cry anyway.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't really know what he was doing on Mallet Island, but he saw this big spooky castle and figured that's where the bad guys would be.

-Instead, he found you, this strange, slouched woman with a horrible complexion and a strange, ominous aura.

-He let's you guide him through the castle, telling him about its history, bringing him supplies when he takes breaks, and generally keeping him company.

-Nero thought you were pretty weird, but in a good way. He was really growing to like you, and after a bit, he let you lie on his lap while you talked about your insecurities, your lives, and everything else in between.

-Eventually, he had to leave, and in your panic, you told him everything; how Mundus intended to use you as a spy, and how you just didn't have the heart to.

-Nero was understandably shocked, but got over it quickly. Since you never betrayed him, why should he be mad? Come with him!

● V ●

-V was looking for Mundus at the behest of his fellow devil hunters, and in doing do, stumbled across this odd castle.

-Within this castle lived a very odd woman with horrible posture and a face that screamed potential danger.

-While a tad bit worried about his wellbeing and your intentions, V didn't mind it if you followed him around, acting as his assistant of sorts.

-You guys end up getting closer and closer with each passing day. You liked V because he was kind to you and didn't try to take advantage of you, while V enjoyed your presence because you were endearingly sweet to him.

-Alas, all things must come to an end. V had finished his business and was about to leave, worrying you because the last thing you wanted was to be abandoned again.

-V noticed this and offered you a place at Devil May Cry. You accepted, not telling him of your troubled past, though it seemed to be for the best. Some things are better left unsaid.

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creedslove · 1 year

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BETRAYED - CHAPTER SEVEN (SPECIAL EDITION)

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, a little bit of fluff

A/N: PLEASE ATTENTION

As I said in a previous post, I had two plot lines to follow in this story and I couldn't make up my mind which one would be better. I asked help from a friend and though she helped me choose, I just wasn't feeling the story so I decided to write the two versions and let you all decide which one you prefer. The thing is, I woke up feeling exhausted and in a bad mood, I wanted to write to help me process my feelings but it turned out pure shit but I don't have enough energy to try and write it better, so you all get ready because this is not my best work.

Basically, you will read two drabbles that will take the story to different turns and at the end all you have to do is vote :D

A/N part 2: I still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

1.8k words

FIRST VERSION

After Pedro made sure Liev had left your house for good and locked all the doors just in case, you finally allowed yourself to cry. You felt such a turmoil of feelings within and it all clawed your throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. You hugged yourself as you sat down heavily onto the couch, trying to process what had happened.

You shook your head, your eyes closed shut as you wanted to undo things. If you could turn back in time, you'd do things so differently.

Pedro returned to the living room, immediately rushing to you and wrapping his arms around your body. He had washed his face and now the blood had been wiped off, you could see his face hadn't been damaged apart from a darkening bruise under his eye. He rubbed your back in a comforting way, lifting your chin up and staring into your eyes with worry.

"It's alright, cariño, things will be fine" he tried reassuring you, his hand finding yours and holding it tight. "I'll make sure you're safe, princesa"

"Nothing will be fine, Pedro. Don't you fucking understand it? You ruined everything once again!" You couldn't control yourself and simply shouted at him, letting all the anger and confusion slip out of your tongue, even if you weren't sure if he was guilty or not. Surely he was, but it wasn't just about that, and you knew it. You were lost and you had nowhere to turn.

He frowned and bit his lips, clearing his throat "Y/N, I know you're scared and confused about everything that happened, but I'm here for you, he won't bother you again" he assured you but you were unable to hold back things any longer.

"It is not all about you, Pedro. I know you got your head far up in your ass now that you are such a big star and how your ego is all the time well-fed by all the attention you got from the world, but not every single thing that goes on in my life is about you, Pedro. I had made things clear, I had told you I didn't want you, and you came here, you made that scene in front of Liev and now he hates me!" You said angrily.

"Are you telling me that after he threatened to beat you up, you're worried about him? Worried about his reaction? You told me you weren't even his girlfriend, why is it so important to you?" He asked angrily at how weird you were acting.

You bit your lips, trying to hold the news but you couldn't any longer. You had to let it out, your heart ached for some kind of comfort, some relief after keeping such a secret. Blinking away your tears, you looked at him.

"Because I'm pregnant, Pedro!!!" You raised your voice once more.

•••

Pedro felt as if time had stopped for a moment. He had heard your words, he had comprehended them, but it still didn't feel real. He tried processing it several times, but it didn't seem true to him. He was silent for a couple of minutes, and didn't dare say anything at first.

He noticed his mouth was dry and you sort of waited for an answer. He scratched the back of his neck and carefully chose his words.

"I'm guessing the baby's Liev's… and that was what that dinner was about, correct?" He saw you nodding and continued "and I assume it wasn't planned…"

You finally gathered some courage to speak and nodded "of course it wasn't, but I got sick about a month ago, got some really strong antibiotics and somehow they messed up with the effect of my birth control" you cried "and now you fucked up everything because he walked on us and of course he will never believe the baby is his. I mean, I don't even know if I'll keep the baby in the first place but still, I don't expect you to understand, you never wanted a family of your own-" you stopped yourself, realizing you were snapping at him, remembering how delicate the subject had been to him the time you had your argument. You swallowed hard and sighed "all I'm trying to say is that I don't know what to do, I'm lost and alone"

Pedro immediately softened up, he completely ignored some of your harsh words and sat closer to you. He kissed your temple and rubbed your arms

"You're not alone, Y/N" he said gently "I get that you are terrified, especially after Liev's reaction, I think you should follow your heart and decide what to do with the baby, I'll support you, but if you decide to keep it, I'll be by your side as a friend…" he said and felt his heart burning in his chest at the mere thought of all the dreams he's had about you and him having a family together, the ones he always thought that would never come true, but now, destiny being a bitch, seemed to offer him on a silver plate.

"... Or I can be by your side as the father, for the two of you" he gently placed his hand on your stomach, leaving you speechless.

SECOND VERSION

You looked at Pedro while he focused on the drive home, you were tightening your jaw, still unbelievably pissed at everything that happened. That happened because of him, by the way.

The way Liev stormed out of your home after punching Pedro a couple of times when he walked on you two. You hated yourself for not resisting him, but how could you? Yes, he was a dick, he had broken your heart but he had showered you in all those stupid love words, which you never believed in, but when he shot you those puppy eyes and you felt your body against his, it was so damn impossible to fight back. If you concentrated hard enough, you could still feel parts of your body tingling, a longing sensation on your lower stomach, the warmth and that funny pressure on your core. Pedro was addictive and you were afraid of letting yourself go.

If such a scene hadn't happened, you could've just told him to go home, and preferably reminded him to never come back into your life, but after how violent things got with Liev, you agreed maybe it would be safer to spend the night at Pedro's.

You weren't in love with Liev but you two were having a pretty nice affair, it was satisfying on both ends and you guys were having fun. If once again, weren't for Pedro's intermission, you would've had some nice dinner and would end up in bed. Of course, you could also end up in Pedro's bed, but no matter how much your physical side ached for it, you wouldn't give in, he was still the same guy who left you in the middle of a party to go home by yourself so he could have his way with some skank. And he was still the same guy who got you going in a makeout session that earned you the end of your affair and a threat.

But then, you looked at Pedro, the way he drove focused, though you could see his face already bruising. Even if he'd cleaned up the blood, you knew that wouldn't look very good in the morning.

"C-can we stop?" You asked him, breaking the silence as you pointed at the drive-thru burger place just a few meters away.

He raised his eyebrow, letting a small groan of pain "really? Are you hungry, Y/N?" He asked and you groaned in response, not caring at all

"You ruined my dinner, it's the least you can do" you gritted your teeth, though you didn't want to admit the whole reason why you wanted to make that stop wasn't the burger nor the fries, you were actually thinking of the extra portion of ice you ordered. And as soon as you got it, you got your jacket out, poured the ice on your sleeve and made a very lame ice pad, but it was the only thing you could do. You gently placed it on Pedro's face, listening to his ounce of pain and couldn't help but let out a chuckle, which didn't go unnoticed by the man.

"What's so funny?" He asked, feeling a little annoyed.

"You sound just like a kid, come on Pedrito, you're stronger than that" you couldn't help yourself but let out another chuckle and feel surprise to see him smiling as well.

"You're right, mariposa, I should take it like a man, just like I did to protect you and I would do it a hundred times more" he extended his arm and took some stranded hair off your face. The man went serious again and looked at you "I'm sorry, I really am. I know I fucked things up for you, I couldn't control myself when I found your little card, it moved me, it made me believe you still had feelings for me, but I don't regret doing what I did, as I will have another thing to cherish about you for the rest of my life, and that at least we know that guy isn't good enough for you" he honestly said it.

"I mean, I know you think I'm not good for you either, but now you can see you deserve better, princesa" he said and leaned in, kissing your lips one last time again. He gently took your hands off his face and started the car, driving home.

You spent the rest of the trip quiet, your heart tightening in your chest as you replayed this last moment with you, there were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many times you wished you'd just think to hell with everything else and surrender to your passion, but you stopped yourself. You had to be strong.

You trusted your gut, and it always told you to be wary of Pedro, things had never been easy between the two of you, why would it start being easy now?

You knew you'd taken the correct decision when you both got inside and you found the skank from the gala sitting on his couch. She didn't look that great without her attire and scandalous makeup on, but you could see the appeal why a man would want her.

You immediately went serious and stared at Pedro, who seemed confused as well.

"Well, you never called, never replied to my texts, so I had to come over, Pedro," the woman said before either of you could do it.

"Listen, Melissa, we don't have anything going on, it was a one time thing, and it's over…" he stopped mid sentence the moment Melissa got up and took off her coat.

Her round bump was visible thanks to the very tight sweater she was wearing.

"Oh yeah? Well, you should've thought of that before using me as a cum dumpster, Pedro, because I'm pregnant"

_____

A/N: now it's your turn to choose: which plot do you want in the story? As the rest will be written accordingly.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal headcanon #javier peña #javier pena #joel miller

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mmaarrzz · 5 days

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Sweet Freedom (NSFW)

After finally getting out of jail, Vi gets a taste of something sweet.

Tags/Warnings: Vi x Caitlyn, Basically the brothel scene but they fuck.

—

The stench of incense thickened the air of the brothel. To most, the sights of masked figures and dim lights filled them with excitement, but for Vi, it brought about a sense of nostalgia. For Caitlyn, however, this new environment was a shock to her system. A straight-edged enforcer wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.

Vi put a hand on Caitlyn's back and pushed her into the building, noting the way the lights glittered off her eyes as she took in the sights, a bright blush growing across her cheeks as the sounds of pleasure erupted from behind not-so-closed curtains.

"Vi, how exactly are we supposed to be going about this?" Caitlyn asked, not quite understanding what kind of benefit a place like this would be to their cause.

"Pretend like you work here." Vi said with a shrug.

"I would never!"

Vi slowly spun around, hands still in the pockets of her jacket. She ran her eyes up and down the blue haired woman, making her feel almost naked. "You know what your problem is?" She said, walking around Caitlyn, spending a moment too long staring at her bottom that did not go unnoticed. "You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you need them to think that you have what they want."

"And what do I have?"

Vi spun around and pushed Caitlyn against the wall, trapping her between her arms. "You're hot, cupcake.”

Vi grabbed Caitlyn’s chin with her hands, moving her face around to get a better look. “You know, we don’t have any sweet things like you in Stillwater, I miss the taste.”

Caitlyn shied away from Vi’s piercing gaze. “I don’t think we have many in Piltover either.”

Vi chuckled at that, “I’m sure they do, Cupcake, you just gotta look a little harder.” Their faces were centimeters apart, warm breath heating the others lips. “You wanna try?” She asked as she ran her thumb across Caitlyn’s soft lips.

The slightest of nod was all she needed before she attacked the girl's lips with her own, savoring how another woman felt for the first time in years. She moved her hand from the wall down to the taller woman's waist, pinning her hips to the wall with her own.

Shockingly, it was Caitlyn who opened her mouth first, her tongue darting out to explore. It was all the permission Vi needed to take things further, shoving a knee between Caitlyn's legs to push upon the heat growing between them. With her strong arms, she pushed the blue haired woman down on her leg, the pressure of her thigh making Caitlyn gasp.

Caitlyn tangled her fingers in Vi's pink hair, finally remembering she had hands to use as well. She moaned quietly as Vi grinded her thigh into her crotch, the shock causing her to pull on Vi's hair, ripping their lips apart.

"Oh, I'm gonna make you regret that, Cupcake," They locked eyes as Vi kissed her way down Caitlyn's neck, stopping to lick up the length of her pulse before biting down. At the same time, she slid her hand down from her waist and up her dress to fondle her ass, feeling the lace of her panties. Vi unlocked her lips from the woman's throat with a small pop, stopping to admire the bright red mark that would soon be her dark purple claim on the woman. "Why don't we get a little more comfortable?" She asked, nodding to the curtained room next to them. She didn't wait for an answer, instead peeled herself off of Caitlyn and sauntering over, peeling off her jacket to reveal her muscular arms exposed through ripped-off sleeves. Caitlyn just stood there, taking a moment to process everything. She had never been with a woman before, and she had never been this turned on in her life. There was a small part of her, in the back of her mind, trying to remind her of her duty, of her purpose for being here. But when Vi whistled impatiently to get her attention, and she drew her eyes to the purple cushioned bed surrounded by candle light she squashed that small part and walked forward, letting Vi drop the curtains behind them.

Caitlyn sat on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed, hands gripping the hem of her dress as she tried to inconspicuously rub her thighs together. She couldn't take her eyes off the woman in front of her. Her strong muscular frame, pink hair, the small tattoo underneath her eye, it all drove her insane. She noted the piercings that decorated her ears, and wondered if she had anymore she was going to find out about.

It didn't take long for her question to be answered, as Vi peeled off her shirt to reveal herself. Caitlyn traced the soft line of pink hair peeking out from her waist band up to the metal in her naval, admiring the intricate tattoos that adorned her sides leading up to her breasts. One nipple had a small bar in it, the other surrounded by thick lines of ink.

Vi laughed as she was ogled, and pushed Caitlyn down on the bed as she straddled her waist. She grabbed one of Caitlyn's hands and brought it to her pierced breast, pushing her chest forward ever so slightly as she filled her palm. She leaded down to kiss her once more, gentler this time, as the woman gave her breast a light squeeze, testing the waters. Their tongues danced with each other, Vi letting out small sighs as Caitlyn now fondled both of her breasts.

Caitlyn lightly rolled the pierced nipple between her fingers, causing Vi to let out a breathy moan. She pulled a little harder, enjoying how the pink haired woman ground herself down on her as she did so. Caitlyn sat up, bring her head down to give small kisses on the woman's chest. She left a light kiss on the tattooed breast, then one on the other. Vi was panting with anticipation before Caitlyn gave small licks to the nipple, circling it with her tongue before bringing it into her mouth. The taste of metal was strange, but not unwelcome as she sucked, massaging the other with her hand.

Vi moaned loudly as she brought her hands up to return the favor, pulling the top of Caitlyn's dress down to expose her supple breasts. They fit perfectly into Vi's large hands, and the warmth of them traveled down between her legs and filled her with a hunger she hadn't felt in a long time.

She couldn't take the teasing any longer, and she pushed Caitlyn back down onto the bed. She sat up on her knees and spread Caitlyn's legs in order to situate herself between them. She rode her hand up the blue haired woman's thigh, stopping at the edge of her dress to look up into her bright blues eyes. Caitlyn gave a gentle nod and lifted her hips to allow her to push the dress up, exposing the black lace panties she wore beneath. They were already soaked through, the candle light flickering on the slickness now coating her inner thighs.

"Aw, did you wear these just for me?" Vi quipped, snapping the elastic on her hip into her skin.

Caitlyn sucked a quick breath between her teeth, "Remind me to show you my collection sometime."

"Oh, I'll make sure you won't forget. Now, let's see if you taste as sweet as you look."

Vi lightly traced her thumb up and down the middle of her underwear, the slickness leaving almost no friction of the fabric. She pressed down slightly at the nub on the top, rolling her thumb in a gentle circular motion as Caitlyn began to squirm beneath her.

"Tell me how much you want it," Vi demanded, "Tell me how much you want me."

"Please, Vi. I need you. I want your touch and your mouth. It's all I've thought about since I met you. I want to feel your strong hands inside of me."

"I think I can make that happen, Cupcake," she replied as she pressed a gentle kiss to her clothed center, taking the time to rake the tip of her tongue all the way up, stopping to add a little more pressure once she reached the top. She didn't have the patience to be a tease. She pulled the panties to the side to expose her dripping pussy, wasting no time to get a taste of the sweetness she oh-so craved.

She ran long stipes of her tongue up and down Caitlyn's center, relishing in the gasps and sighs let out whenever her tongue flicked her clit before moving down to her entrance once again. She quickly picked up the pace, lapping at the wetness and feeling her clit somehow get even bigger against her tongue.

She took the pearl into the mouth and sucked, enjoying the way Caitlyn's back arched just so to push herself even further into the other woman's mouth. She tortured the bud, rubbing her tongue against her clit as she sucked.

Vi traced Caitlyn's entrance with her finger, spreading her slickness on her fingers. She didn't push in, instead opting to trace up and down between her folds once more.

"P-Please..." Caitlyn moaned, and it was all the begging Vi needed to push one of her thick fingers into the other woman, feeling her tighten around her as she pulled out slightly, curling her finger as she went.

She set a gentle, slow pace to start as she continued to lap at Caitlyn's clit, who was all but screaming in pleasure at this point. After she relaxed around her, Vi added another, bending them up to rub gentle circles inside her.

Caitlyn threw her head back in wanton moans, brining one hand to grip at Vi's hair and the other to massage her own breasts.

Despite the grip Caitlyn had on her hair, she pulled her mouth away as she pumped into her pussy, watching as she lost herself to pleasure. The image in front of her was almost enough to set her off herself, but she was completely focused on the pleasure of the other. There was a prize to be won, and she was going to stop at nothing to have it.

Vi brought her other hand down to put pressure right above Caitlyn's crotch, reaching her thumb down to rub steady and firm circles around her clit. Caitlyn was almost fucking herself on Vi's hand at this point, the pink-haired woman now taking care to speed up her pace, pushing her fingers all the way into the other before slowly pulling them out with a curl, staring into her piercing blue eyes all the while.

"Vi... I-I'm getting closer..." Caitlyn gasped as the hand that was once tangle in pink hair was now tangled in the sheets, trying to ground herself to reality as she lost her mind to pleasure.

Vi sped up the pace of her fingers once more, making sure to maintain steady pressure on the top of her walls as they squeezed her tighter and tighter. She heard the beautiful sounds of Caitlyn's wetness around her growing, and it wasn't long before they exploded out of her as she came around Vi's fingers. The pink-haired woman dipping her head down to lick up every drop of Caitlyn's cum as she fucked her through her orgasm.

Vi fucked her until she had nothing left to give, and was simply a quivering, whining mess beneath her. She gently removed her hands from inside her, taking care to lick the rest of her cum off before moving up her body, peppering small kisses' against her fucked-out face.

"Vi... I-" She was cut off with a gentle kiss. "That was amazing..."

Vi chuckled, "Thanks Cupcake, I'm glad to know I still got it after all this time." With one more kiss she peeled herself up from atop her, moving to clean herself up before dressing once more. "Wait here while I go have a quick chat."

As much as Vi wanted to stay, to hold Caitlyn and deal with the throbbing between her own legs, she had come here for a reason. She pulled open the curtains and walked down the hall, she still had a job to do.

#arcane #caitlyn x vi #caitlyn arcane #vi #caitlyn #vi arcane #vi x caitlyn #caitvi #vi league of legends #league of legends caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #smut #arcane smut #fanfiction #my writing #Dont give hickeys on the carotid artery you can throw a clot #the more you know #sometimes I wonder how my writing has improved now that im not a virign anymore but im too embarrassed to go read my old works #pls tell me if you like this i feed off positive affirmation

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