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animeyanderelover · 1 month ago

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This will be my first request, I am very happy because I LOVE your writing.

Alas aside, Yandere falls in love with a woman older than them who is very maternal for having a child, when he proposes she rejects him because she feels that they should not waste themselves on a woman who already has a child (You can do with the father whatever you want ).It would be with Atsushi, Akutagawa, Daichi Sawamura, Oikawa and if you want to add any more I don't mind

Sorry for my bad english😘😘

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, stalking, threats, violence

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani

You shouldn’t waste your time on me

Sawamura Daichi

🌅Cries of a small child are what guide him through the crowds on that day, his eyes flickering over the people before they finally land on the boy who is standing there all alone. Upon asking him what happened the child tells him that he got distracted and lost his mother. As not only a police officer but also a decent human being Daichi immediately helps, asks the boy where him and his mother were last together and if he knows where his mother planned to go. If worst comes to worst and he won't be able to find the boy's mother he'll just ask the boy where he lives and will bring hm home to wait together with him until his mom returns. Luckily it never comes that far as Daichi is able to find you after half an hour of searching, the boy instantly leaving his side and running to you with tears in his eyes. He's far too humble in your eyes as he is confronted with your gratefulness, tells you that he only did his job and that anyone would have helped a crying child. Still, you make some small talk with him as you ask for his name and both of you start talking for a while with each other. That's how he finds out that you recently moved to the Miyagi prefecture with your child and live close to his neighbourhood.

🌅The fact that he doesn't live far away from you and that he helped your child are major reasons that aid the two of you in getting so close to each other. Also, your son's dream is it to work for the police later on so he obviously views Daichi as his hero, something that flusters the man deep down a lot more than he shows. He visits you once a week when he has a free day, often bombarded with questions from your son about his job until you softly chide your child for his uncontrolled excitement. You admit to him relatively early that you moved here because your husband died and your parents live nearby as you also need to work and need someone to look after your son. Hearing that your husband died strangely enough makes more sense to him than if someone would have divorced you as only an ignorant fool would have let someone like you go. Daichi is not even going to deny his own feelings, he knows that he's extremely attracted to you. You're kind yet not too coddling, you're responsible and patient, you listen to the worries of others and are always willing to help where you can. Watching you raising your son sometimes reminds him of his high school days, a fond look on his face.

🌅Daichi is able to stay patient in spite of his obsession, especially if the loss of your husband has been very recent. He gives you time, he allows you to grieve and focuses in the meantime on helping you and your child to integrate into the new city. The thing is that he fills that role of a supportive husband and father so nicely that neighbours and even your own parents and son can't help but support the two of you getting together. When you reject him he is a bit disheartened but he takes it really well because he realises that you didn't do so because you do not love him. You reject him because you feel not good enough but that in itself is still quite hurtful. You're such a wonderful person after all. He doesn't mind the little age gap nor does he think of you less because you have a child. In fact he's grown very fond and protective of your son who you have raised wonderfully. Still, it's wiser to not pressure you so he steps back for now. His confidence remains though, knowing that you didn't deny not being able to see him as a partner. He'll just stay in your life as a pillar of support for now and will slowly make you realise that you are everything but a waste to him.

Oikawa Tooru

👑After a difficult divorce you make the decision to completely change your life and decide to try to reach for a dream you had when you were younger but gave up later on, deciding that you might not make it. It's better to try and fail then to never take the step. After many months of interviews, exchange of mails and documents you receive the news though. You did it. You're one of the managers for your favorite volleyball club, Club Athletico San Juan. You're so joyous, almost feel like a school girl all over again as you read the letter over and over again, kicking your feet and grinning like an idiot. Oikawa is still Oikawa even if he is by now an adult, his charming attitude still there as soon as you're introduced to the team as their new manager. His other teammates just watch with half amusement and half pity as Oikawa's charm ultimately never works. Sure, he manages to charm people quickly but he never manages to hold a relationship and they would hate for their setter and new manager to be on bad terms from the very start. You, with the divorce still freshly on your mind though, put your foot firmly down and clarify it to Oikawa very clearly that you have no intention of dating.

👑Obviously Tooru is miffed about your blunt rejection yet another part of him can't help but respect your determination. You know what you want to focus on and he wants to acknowledge that, especially since he is essentially the same. The keyword here is want because who would have thought that his feelings would slip out of his grasp of control so quickly? You know when to put him and his childish antics in his place, chiding him almost as if he were a child and the experience feels only more realistic when he realises that you're a few years older than he is. The fact that you work so closely with him only enables him to be very overbearing as he dreams up all kinds of minor inconveniences so that he has something to complain about to have your attention on himself. Your daughter is a shocker as you have never talked about your private life before and whilst other players gush over your child he gives her a strange look at first, his mind trying to process what it could mean. He pesters you privately about it, his eyes desperate and his body tense. The tension leaves his body at least partially when you admit with a heavy sigh that you had a rough divorce before you started working here.

👑Oikawa doesn't take the rejection very well, his heart dropping even though it doesn't have to do with the fact that you don't see him that way. Still, it is hard to stay logical with a heart as sensitive as his, especially since he is prone to being delusional. He just doesn't understand. What is it that he could have done better?? He has made it more than obvious that he is deeply in love with you. He's showered you in presents, constantly demands your attention and has even made the effort to get closer to your daughter despite initial caution he held. Is that still not enough?? What do you want him to do?? Please tell him what he as to do in order for you to accept. Honestly, your maternal instincts will come quite in handy as you're confronted with Tooru whilst his feelings threaten to burst out of him. Because it helps him to calm down and gives him the reassurance he so desperately craves from you in that moment. Nevertheless though, he ramps up his affection from a 10 to an 11 after that incident. If the problem is simply that you don't feel good enough he will change your mind. You're forgiven this one time. Do not reject him a second time though or else he might just make your job more difficult.

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅The gentle love of a parent is a notion so foreign to Atsushi that the first encounter he has with you leaves him almost on the edge. Your kind words, the patient look in your eyes, the warmth and comfort you provide him with by simply being in the room threatens to burst his heart right at the seams. After cold deprivation for as long as he can remember your presence feels like being drowned in a bathtub filled with hot water. It's overwhelming almost, scorches his skin yet he gladly submerges himself in the heat and the sensations that come with it. He's almost immediately infatuated with you, finds himself yearning for your affection in his dreams as well as in the real world. The age difference is something that weights on his soul though as he realises how experienced you are and how clumsy he seems to be in comparison. There's a lack of knowledge with certain machines or customs that he hasn't been exposed to due to his time in the orphanage but he is always too ashamed to tell you about it. Adamant to not let himself look like a young fool in front of you, Atsushi simply refuses to ask for help or advice from you. He wants to prove to you as well as himself that he can provide for you.

🐅As shameful as it is, there is an undeniable twinge of jealousy directed against your own child. He envies the little boy for being able to cling to you as often as he does as those are all things Atsushi desperately wishes to do as well. He wants to be held, comforted and loved by you too but he could never admit such things as he stares at your son. What would you think of him after all if he were to confess to you that he feels jealous of your own child? It doesn't stop him from clenching his hands into fists every time he witnesses you giving affection to your son, nails turning into claws as he imagines what it would be like if he were to be the one in your child's position. You and your husband have parted ways a few years ago but you still keep in contact due to the child and that just about kills Atsushi. It takes always more willpower than it should to not outright growl at the man whenever he visits. Atsushi can't even fathom how a man could let someone like you go and occasionally he imagines what it would be like to just tear that man apart whenever his jealousy gets the better of him. Chances aren't exactly zero for Atsushi to confront your ex-lover and accidentally kill him during an argument.

🐅The beast within him tries to tame itself as good as it can for you even if results are mixed. With time he grows closer to your child though he struggles to be a parent for the little boy as he more than once acts just as childish and needy. Still, he does his best to show you that he can protect and provide for you and your child all whilst seeking emotional comfort from you. It has taken him a good chunk of courage to finally confess to you only to be met with a direct blow to his heart. The shock of your rejection numbs him for a few seconds before the weight comes crushing down. He hyperventilates, he cries, he bites his bottom lip bloody and his nails threaten to rip through the skin of his palms. That is only because he does misunderstand your rejection as you telling him that you have no interest in him. Once he has come to understand that you didn't reject him for that reason hopefully he manages to calm down at least a bit. That means that he still has a chance, doesn't he? Still, he feels like it's his fault for not having made it clearer to you just how deeply infatuated he is with you. That has to change now. Hopefully some of his seniors can give him useful tips how to woo you.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

⬛It is through Gin that Akutagawa finds out about you as his beneath the mask quite shy sister has befriended you and finds herself visiting your small shop once a week. Whilst he is anything but an overbearing brother this piece of information still manages to stick to him. It's the first time he has heard that Gin has made friends with someone outside the Mafia and initially he starts directing hostility against you. Akutagawa isn't an individual to trust easily as he distrusts with far more confidence and this is what he finds himself doing against you. Who are you? Are you really just a regular citizen? His sister assures him that you are not some spy nor does she plan to give you any information about the Port Mafia or her real identity but for Akutagawa actions speak louder than words. He finds himself stalking you occasionally, dark eyes trailing after you. A scoff appears on his face the moment he notices the boy following you, realising that you have a child. How naive you must be, keeping a child whilst involving yourself with a mafioso. If you really are just a normal person you must have no motherly senses at all or else you wouldn't hang out casually with Gin.

⬛Akutagawa never had a mother who raised him as he has grown up in a violent environment from a very young ago. None of his mentor figures have ever given him even an ounce of affection which has led him to believe that love is a weakness. A weakness he has fallen victim to. A part of him itches to use Rashomon to tear you and that little brat apart yet he holds himself back. Partially because his emotions are messy and partially for his sister's sake as she cherishes you. It's Gin he turns to as his curiosity grows and it is through her he finds out most information about you. The most pressing issue for him is who the father of your son is and even if Gin tells him that you have parted with the guy long before your child was born that doesn't stop Akutagawa's urges to rip that man apart for his mere existence. Stalking you becomes quite difficult, his possessive side flaring up the moment you talk to another man and give him a smile. It's the horrified gaze of his sister that holds him back but that is no guarantee that it'll work every single time. Only to his sister is he able to admit his conflicting feelings to you and both of them know that it is only a question of time when you will find out.

⬛Still, even if it comes that far Gin wishes for her brother to not terrorise and hurt you even with his obsession. She cares for Akutagawa but you're still her friend and she likes your child as well. She wants him to attempt to confess to you the normal way at least once and if you reject him she kind of knows that there's little she can do. Unable to live with herself if she wouldn't try though Gin introduces her brother to you who finds himself incredibly awkward as he is completely out of his comfort zone, easily irritated and with little patience, especially when your son is around. Big chance that Gin is lurking around in the distance when Akutagawa tries confessing, already looking like he is glaring at you. He honestly only knows what to do in case you reject him because you don't like him which is instantly doing what he can do best. Inflicting fear upon you whilst using Rashomon. He isn't prepared for you rejecting him because you think he shouldn't bother with you and is left so perplexed with that answer that he just stares at you for a good while. Ultimately this only delays the abduction though because it'll still happen. He's promised Gin to not harm your son though.

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jweekgoji · 1 month ago

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[BW] Yandere!Dinobot/Reader [hcs/thoughts]

tw/tags: heat cycle, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, a tinyy bit suggestive. word count: ~700 a/n: born to obsess over underrated characters forced to yap about the popular one (but I'm joking, I love them all, I'm just sad that Beast Wars is not talked about as much as other shows).

some quick thoughts in between requests because if I don't express it now, i will forget about it.

okay hear me out on...yandere Dinobot. I know Beast Wars is not really popular in the fandom, but oh my god, this ugly handsome man

we all saw that maximals/predacons share those animalistic traits that are connected to their beast modes. Rattrap likes to chew on scrap, Cheetor acts like a cat and even meows, Tigatron considers white tigers as some kind of family; Tarantulas and Blackarachnia have that rivalry for obvious reasons (bad for him).

it would be funny if they also had some type of cybertronian heat cycles.

even though Dinobot is heavily influenced by Jurassic Park velociraptors, I still feel like he'd act like a big bird rather than a lizard. or something in between, of course.

Yandere!Dinobot is overprotective and snappy as hell, to the point he considers even other maximals as a potential danger to you. Unlike more rational bots, Dinobot has no shame at all. It would cost him an arm and a leg to admit it to you, but he's actually jealous. Of what? There's no need to find any reason to explain his behavior once the season starts.

Yandere!Dinobot is vocal; he will growl, hiss and snap his teeth at anyone who tries to approach his mate. All maximals know that it's not the time to come near the two of you, but the unrespectful predacons...I'm a sucker for duos, their possibilities, and to imagine the dynamic between Megatron/Dinobot, both trying to court the poor reader.

But once the two of you are alone, I can see him having those rare moments where Dinobot lets himself relax. Most of the time he's in a constant state of alert, the dangerous mix of his primal instincts and that warrior code of his just tells him to take you somewhere far-far away, so no maximal or predacon will get you. So maybe he can rest just for a little with you next to him. Dinobot definitely makes soft purrs, even to his own surprise.

Yandere!Dinobot is a stalker. Maybe, when it's just the start of the relationship between the two of you, he will try to somehow justify it, at least. Like, “I am just testing your skills, a true warrior must be always alert. You don't know when the predacons attack you next” , but the more you grow closer to him, the more he lets himself be a tiny bit warmer to you “You should not wander off alone. Stick closer to me”.

Read it, and don't forget a little personal nickname he has for you, which he adds at the end of the sentence.

It will also be funny to imagine Dinobot being a little too invested in building a nest. It also gets more awkward if your beast mode is some far different species. Why would he need to collect your stuff from your room? And why is he so adamant about you always staying in his room? He is holding you so tightly that you practically have no chance but to stay. So clueless!

“Is that [...] from my quarters?”

“Just be quiet and start recharging, you irresistible fool!”

Dinobot himself is a little embarrassed too if you start asking too many questions. He doesn't like being all vulnerable, even though he trusts you very much to know that you will never make fun of him. His own mind is clouded with not so innocent thoughts, and it actually becomes a big problem when he tries to focus on his training or fighting.

I don't think Dinobot would try to attract you with those silly dances reptiles/birds do to impress their mates, but when he is in his beast mode, you can definitely notice his tail wagging just a little bit when you're around. Rattrap probably picks on it faster than you and teases Dinobot about it until the two start fighting again.

#dinobot x reader #bw dinobot x reader #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere transformers #transformers x reader #beast wars x reader #bw dinobot

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j0kers-light · 5 months ago

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hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that.

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother.

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.

That unfortunately made you a target.

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious.

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.

You.

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth!

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”

Whatever that meant.

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you.

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.”

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament.

You were chained to something.

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you.

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred.

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round!

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you.

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.”

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you.

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!”

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink.

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence.

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain.

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight.

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive.

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less.

It was the only reassurance you had.

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep.

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working.

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?”

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?”

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No.... no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?”

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.

Not anymore.

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were.

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure?

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more.

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle.

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.

“Sit up.”

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.”

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with.

“Lemme help you.”

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind.

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go! What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice.

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.

Now that was out of Joker’s control.

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way.

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained.

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this.

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands.

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.

“Are ya gonna behave doll?”

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning.

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.”

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner.

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered...

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.”

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud.

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..”

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go.

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?”

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt.

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted?

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom.

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you.

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.”

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be.

Never did he imagine he would return to this.

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.”

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you. Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you.

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up.

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.

All hope was not lost.

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls.

197 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

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

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

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

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired.

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase.

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion.

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything.

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all.

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever.

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her.

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it.

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done.

At least since the murder of their mother.

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth.

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this.

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does.

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done.

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine.

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space.

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability.

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess.

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped.

He’s pissed.

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?”

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother.

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s.

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him.

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her.

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet.

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.”

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial.

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience.

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary.

And the day isn’t even halfway over.

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message.

Roman: Come over tonight.

As expected, her reply comes almost right away.

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline.

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people.

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well.

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen.

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves.

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity.

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in.

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops.

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons.

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors.

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger.

“Where’s the room?”

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest.

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance.

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room.

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts.

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning.

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located.

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper.

And that’s exactly what happens.

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one.

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse.

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection.

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight.

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though.

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.”

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go.

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome.

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.”

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face.

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing.

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.”

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable.

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store.

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is.

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked.

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary.

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t.

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more.

He’s ignored them everytime.

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight.

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight.

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…”

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected.

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone.

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized.

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?” His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all.

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him.

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest.

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

—-----

Roman finds her out back on the patio.

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone.

And she is.

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day.

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him.

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about.

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

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

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charlottecutepie · 8 months ago

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hi Lizzy, sorry to bother you but can I request for a Henry X reader? My man lacks content about him :(( it can be about anything I don't mindd

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Henry Emily x fem!reader smut blurb

author note: thank u for this request love! don't know why but breeding kink + size kink is henry, also him having a dad bod is canon for me. also important: the way i imagine henry is by @kcokaine_ on twitter

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, size kink, softdom!henry, jealous!henry, but he tries to hide it, william is an asshole, public sex, breeding kink, missionary, established relationship, Henry’s dilf bc i said so

William has no shame, Henry realized that a long time ago. Especially when he found out that William was cheating on his wife. William doesn't have a shred of damn shame when he lets himself touch you. When he literally fucks you with his eyes. When he tries to give you fucking compliments. Henry rarely experiences such feelings of anger and jealousy. Henry hates himself for his gentle nature and for not being able to punch his friend right into his face. Especially when the pizzeria hall is full of children and their parents as they have no idea what a disgusting asshole William is.

Of course, Henry could have waited until he got home and made love to you there, fucking you so good that you'd have forgotten William's name. But there's always a but. Today Henry wants William to know that you don't need anyone's else's cock but his.

When Henry warned you that his hands were big enough, you just laughed and softly pushed him into his broad chest, that was a joke, right?

But you're not laughing when you feel how true his words turned out to be. Not just the hands, but in fact the whole Henry. His physique is far from athletic, this man isn’t so young anymore and doesn't really keeps his figure, but damn, these muscles that reminds so much of his youth, dad bod, wide shoulders and his damn tall height, you're nearly whining. Now you realise what he was talking about (or warning?), there's only one of his fingers inside you, but it feels like all three. You're wet, incredibly horny and dripping, but it doesn't make it any easier. Henry looks into your eyes, and then his gaze falls on your pussy taking his finger. He frowns, he doesn't want to take out his anger and jealousy on you at all, he just can't do this to you, he loves you too much, so he tries to do everything gently and slowly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper to him, your eyes filled with nothing but desire. Henry looks up at you and then crushes his lips on yours, as if he's been waiting for these words all his life. He kisses you softly and sensually, with all his love and affection he have for you, for his girl. Without taking his mouth off yours, he adds another finger and you pull away to make a loud moan, but Henry literally shuts you up with his palm.

“Remember you can't be loud, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he thrusts his large fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. “you can take it.” his low and dominant, but soft tone as he speaks quietly only arouses you more.

You desperately nod and he puts his hand off you, now holding one of your legs open to prevent you from closing them. All this time he stares into your eyes, watching your face and reaction. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you shiver. Henry curls them slightly, rubbing against your soft spots until you moan, pressing yourself against his hand shamelessly. “Henryyy—” you whine, your pussy clenches around his finger, so fucking wet and responsive.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, pulling his finger out with a wet sound and rubs your swollen clit. You moan again, arching your hips towards him, begging for more contact. “need to taste you, princess.” he says raspingly, pressing his finger on your little bud.

He kisses the inside of your thigh softly, making his way slowly towards your core. You whimper as you feel his tongue on your clit, your legs twitch in pleasure. Henry holds you firmly as he eats you out, he's kissing and circling your sensitive bundle with his tongue. It feels too divine, too fucking good and you can't hold your loud noises, biting your own hand. “Ohh, please—” you cry out as he buries his face deeper into your needy pussy.

You're trembling as your hand grips the edge of the desk tightly, mouth open as you pant heavily, trying your best not to scream. He greedily laps at your slit, sliding his tongue all over your aching hole as it clenches around nothing, but Henry makes sure to fill it with his finger and it makes you see stars. He hums into your pussy, sucking on your clit and thrusting his finger in and out of you. You arch and shiver pathetically, your brows furrowed as your face confronted in pure bliss. Henry fingers you slowly, making sure to prepare and stretch you out perfectly for his cock. Every lick sends ripples of sensation throughout your core, he knows damn well how to make his girl feel good.

“Tha-that feels so good, anngh. . .” you bite your lower lip till nearly blood as Henry makes out with your pussy, so fucking messy, but he looks like he's too drunk to care about you trying to push his head away from overwhelming pleasure. “waittt!” you feel so close, especially when he finger fucks you so slow and gently while pleasuring you with his tongue. “'m gonna cum, Hen—. . . Fuck!” Henry groans, pulling away only for some seconds just to spit on your sloppy cunt before attacking it with kisses again. You taste too sweet.

“Cum on my face, sweetheart,” he murmurs, incoherent as he never really stops eating you out. “be my good girl.” for a moment he flashes you a small smile and you almost whine from how hot he looks, his chin cowered in your slick and hair messy. You smile weakly in return and when he thrusts his finger deeper adding to that sloppy lick on your clit, you feel your orgasm approach you. You moan and you don't give a fuck how loud that sounds, but in secret Henry is damn happy as you let that fucking William know how good your man makes you feel.

Your head spinning as you breathe heavily, chest rising up and down when Henry looks at you with drunk face expression. He stands up and takes your face into his hands, giving you more possessive than soft kiss now, letting you taste yourself. That's filthy, too much, Henry isn't like that in other people's eyes. Only for you.

He trails his kisses down your neck and finally reaches your breasts, he kisses both, touch them and fondle them and groans at how perfectly they look in his big hands. Henry sucks on your nipples, all this time fucking your dripping pussy with his fingers, never wanting to hurt you with his size, he knows you're a big girl and you'll take him, but he prefers to avoid any kind of pain. He tries to relax you to maximum. But what he doesn't know is that you're already too needy and hungry for him, wanting something more than just his fingers.

“My sweet girl.” he calls you while he holds you by the waist and slides his cock all over your hole, his head full of thoughts of these freak stares William gave you this evening. He's soft and sweet with you, reminding you of a fluffy teddy bear, but what happens inside his head and how blood boils in his veins from insane jealousy - that's what you don't see and Henry thinks it's for the best, he'll never show that side to you. “so wet for me, want to feel that cock stretching this tiny pussy?” he literally goes feral at the thought of his cock filling you.

“Please, Henry, i need you,” you look into his eyes and your pathetic sight does something to him. Henry gets himself comfortable between your legs, he caresses your cheek as he can't stop looking at how pretty his leaking tip looks rubbing on your clit. He knows he must be gentle and he tries his fucking best.

Henry starts sliding inside you, all this time holding your waist and watching your face for any signs of pain. “Doing so well for me, sweetheart, just like that.” your eyes widen at unexpected feeling, it's not like you two never had sex, but every time he's inside it feels like new. You think you'll never get used to his size. You look at his dick filling you and your pussy clenches down around him as he buries himself deep inside you. Closing your eyes, you try to accommodate to that thickness inside you but not when you feel his thumb making its way to your nub. Henry rubs his thumb in slow, circular motions on your swollen clit as he continues filling your tight cunt. You moan softly beneath him; reaching to lay your hand on his, which working on your clit, while letting out a contented sigh. You two fall into a slow rhythm, each thrust drawing you deeper into your passion.

“Auhh— your so deep inside of me,” you throw your head back, whimpering loudly as every inch of Henry stretches your soppy pussy. Henry thrusts a little bit harder and your breasts bounce slightly which seems like a sweet invitation to him. He presses his lips to your nipple and pulls it, and then licks and sucks, groaning how good you feel.

“This little pussy taking me so well, you're such a good girl, honey,” Henry mutters as he starts thrusting a bit faster.

You throw your leg around him, pulling him deeper into yourself as you cry out for more; wanting to feel every inch and vein of his cock. He hides his face in your chest as he groans at your warmness and wetness around him, your juices making the most beautiful wet sounds as your bodies slap against each other.

“You feel so—” you choke on your own moans as Henry pumps his thick cock faster, you feel him twitching and throbbing inside of you. “awhhh fuck!”

“Just like that, princess,” his lips finds yours in hot kiss again, your eyes flutter closed. “look at you, taking me so well, all pretty and full of my cock. That's where your meant to be, honey, under your man, ughhh, being fucked nice and good. This little pussy, ogghh fuck!” his voice breaks into a loud moan when your cunt tightens once again at his dirty words. “this little pussy belongs to me.”

Your lovely eyes filled with sweet tears of pleasure. “love you, i— awhh, i love you, daddy!” Henry is used to you calling him that when you fuck, although you rarely do because you're still shy. But what you don't know is what effect that word has on him. He's literally going insane, and thank god Henry knows how to control himself, otherwise your pussy would be absolutely ruined right now. Henry doesn't know what he found in that word. Apparently, it still awakens something in him. No, of course, he loves his daughter very much, the only one, he cherishes her. Whenever he sees how much you care about her, he gets some. . . obsessive thoughts. But it feels so fucking right; the idea of expanding your family, watching you blossom into a mother. Would he like to give Charlie a brother or a sister?

Would he like to make you a mom?

Henry gets so lost in his dreams and fantasies that he doesn't even notice his crazy pace and your hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you look so beautiful it drives him crazy. You wrap your hands around his neck and bring his face closer, kissing him again. Kissing him like it's the last time. You hold him close to you and when Henry pulls away to moan again because of how amazing you feel, you press your lips against his forehead and give him soft kisses, asking him to go harder on you. Henry doesn't listen to you, you don't know what you're asking for. If he'll go harder on you. . . Henry sighs, slowing his thrusts. You don't wanna know what'll happen.

Your tight soft walls grip his cock as he bullies your insides, his hand moves down again and he circles your clit nicely and gentle. You rock your hips back and forth faster, desperate to cum, to feel him finishing inside you. Because Henry always pulled out before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tip reaches your cervix and you feel close, so fucking close especially with how he stimulates you using his fingers, rubbing and flicking your little clit. “dont p-pull out,” your tone nearly sounds like an order as you feel Henry ready to pull out. He freezes in place and looks at you, breathing heavily, confusion on his face. “want you to cum inside—” you barely finish your words as he plunges deep inside your pussy much rougher and harder than before, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

If he'll cum inside you, if he’ll get you pregnant, William will definitely notice it. He'll see that you're carrying Henry's baby under your heart. Henry thinks, what will be the reaction of everyone's beloved Mr. Afton? Anger, jealousy? Perhaps envy? William has such an envious nature. Henry's smiling, William has always been jealous of him. Henry have the best daughter in the world, the best girlfriend- almost a wife? Henry always takes the best.

“I'm close, sweetheart,” he tells you, his cock sinking deeper inside you and his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, his thrusts messy, meanwhile you squirm and moan underneath him.

“Breed me— Ahhng, Henry, breed me!” you beg him and and that's the end for him, Henry fucking whimpers. His eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking and he can't control his loud groans as he spills deep inside of you. It feels too good to stop thrusting inside your cunt as he overstimulates both of you, you cumming on his cock while he fills you up, pumping you full of his cum. You grab on him when he pulls out a little. Watching his cum drip out of your little hole, he sighs and fucks it back in, not wanting any drop of him to ooze out of you.

“You're such a good girl, princess. . .” he whispers, kissing your nipples and holding you in his big hands. If Henry was a dirty pervert like William, he'd send you to William right now so he could fucking see his best friend's cum trickling down the inner side of your thighs. But Henry isn't like William and there's no way he'd do that to you. Probably only in his dirtiest and darkest fantasies.

#henry emily x reader #henry emily smut #henry emily #fnaf smut #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf imagine #william afton x reader

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guardian-angle22 · 8 months ago

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Happy to present to y'all this 911LS fic list for stories related to one of my favorite episodes 3.13 Riddle of the Sphynx! I try to make these as comprehensive as possible, so if you have any you think I missed, let me know so I can add them. (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimers: • If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked. • I usually post TWs in rec lists. Due to the episode subject matter, assume all of these have a TW for discussion of addiction/drug use and possibly discussion of parent death/grief.]

◆ Heard the risk is drowning by @paperstorm (Words: 15.3 K; Rating: M)

A tag for 3x13, "Riddle of the Sphynx", in which Carlos combats his own insecurities as TK tries to heal.

◆ Chasers by @carlos-in-glasses (Words: 13.4K; Rating: E)

After 3x13 – while TK is alone with Cooper, Carlos is alone with his thoughts. Both recall times they’ve chased the next high, other men, or each other. When Carlos arrives home, TK still has something important to say – and it's something he didn’t tell Cooper.

◆ trying my best by @reyescarlos (Words: 10.3K; Rating: M)

An exploration of TK's sobriety journey from 2017 to now. Or, a season 3 coda spanning 3x08-3x13

◆ You Showed me How it feels to Truly be Seen by @ramblingdisaster73 (Words: 3K; Rating: T)

Carlos works through the events of 3x13 "The Riddle of the Sphinx".

◆ Measure of a Man by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.8K; Rating: T)

“I want to be everything you need. That I can’t be, it hurts, T.K. It feels like a failure on my part. And as much as I’m trying to accept it, it’s hard.” A 3x13 coda in which Carlos struggles with a new definition of being "enough."

◆ I'll be here all the same by @strandnreyes (Words: 4.8K; Rating: G)

“I am glad you have someone you can talk to who can maybe do a better job at fixing things,” Carlos insists before dropping his eyes to their tangled together fingers. “All I want is for you to be okay.”It’s not surprising to hear, but it hits as if it was. That really is the root of this whole thing. As much as Carlos wants to do what he can to be the person to get TK to that place, at the end of the day all he really wants is for TK to get there.“I will be.”Or, three late night conversations following the events of 3.13

◆ Trigger by comes2gusu (Words: 4.7K; Rating: T)

TK is struggling with his newly found sobriety. After being triggered at an NA meeting, Cooper takes TK for omelets

◆ this love we carry by @thevenstar (Words: 7.6K; Rating: T)

A 3x13 coda in which Carlos has a conversation with a friend, puts his heart to rest, and learns that walking away does not mean surrender.

◆ Those Pieces by @taralaurel (Words: 7.3K; Rating: M)

"I, I'm not telling you all - this - so you can fix me," TK huffs a hot breath against Carlos' chin, "or save me or really, do anything, okay?" Carlos nods against TK's forehead. TK has done a lot of things in his life to deserve the bad that has happened to him. He has no idea what good he's done to deserve Carlos. Coda to 3x13

◆ the one i want by @chaotictarlos (Words: 2K; Rating: E)

TK gets Carlos to take his shirt off.

◆ i want you to unravel me by @reyescarlos (Words: 4.2K; Rating: E)

In the aftermath of the strain that's fallen over them, TK and Carlos bridge the gap with open conversation that brings them closer together, both emotionally and physically. [3x13 coda]

◆ Just Wanna Breathe by @theoceanismyinkwell (Words: 1.9K; Rating: G)

Carlos doesn’t dare look at him for long, knowing that his eyes have always been the window to his soul, the weakest part of his body, unveiling everything in the well of truths he’s kept a lid on for years and years. His family may not be able to read him as well as he feared for the decades he was in the closet, but TK has a way of crashing into his life with a formidable gentleness and a piercing understanding that unmoors him in every possible way.And that’s precisely what TK is doing now, keeping the warmth of his palms flush against the beating of Carlos’ skin, cradling his face, forcing them both to gaze into each other’s eyes and face each other’s unspoken terrors without flinching.TK sounds like he has a lump in his throat. “I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen to me and I want you to remember it.”---Or: What happens when Carlos comes back home after TK's talk with Cooper, and the confessions that spill out after.

◆ waiting on the sidelines by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

They’d promised each other no more secrets, and while Carlos rationally knows that these aren’t exactly secrets, there’s still this grain of resentment inside of him that scratches away with every beat of his heart. It’s something he can’t let show in front of TK ever again, which is why he’s here, outside Owen's house while TK and Cooper talk in the loft.If anyone’s going to understand what he’s feeling, it’s Owen Strand.

◆ Three Weeks In by @masterroadtripper (Words: 3K; Rating: T; TW: self-harm)

It’d been three weeks since Sadie had drugged them - nineteen days since TK started a ninety-day NA sobriety program at the local Synagogue and eleven days since Carlos had met Cooper for the first time - before Carlos realized that there was something else TK wasn’t telling him.

◆ What We Need by Ehm (Words: 3.1K; Rating: T)

"You okay, bud?" Cooper startled him out of his thoughts and he let go of the spoon with a clinking noise. He straightened up, embarrassed. "Sorry, I zoned out." "I can see that," Cooper sounded vaguely amused. "You wanna talk about it?" --- Three times TK has a conversation with Cooper, and one time he talks to Carlos. Or, 3x13 and beyond from TK's point of view.

◆ Nocturne by @sanctuaryforalluniverses (Words: 735; Rating: T)

Carlos comes home. (Post-ep for 3x13)

◆ Precious Love by @rmd-writes (Words: 11.6K; Rating: M)

This is five times TK thinks he doesn’t deserve love and one time he knows he does – an exploration of TK’s relationship with love and self-worth.

◆ Inside a snow globe by @goodways (Words: 6.9K; Rating: E)

It isn’t until TK is on top, lavishing Carlos’ neck, stroking his hand up his side, that Carlos brings their faces together, barely a suggestion of a kiss between them. He holds TK’s jaw and keeps him close whilst he readies the question in his mind. He breathes out a straightforward and tempting, “fuck me,” over TK’s lips which silences the world outside their bedroom. TK’s response whenever he’s asked for this has few variations between immediate enthusiastic compliancy and the sweet reassurance he knows Carlos is dying for. The answer is always yes. - The evening after TK gets his one month sobriety chip.

◆ my home has been your heart since the day i met you by @lavendergiroux (Words: 1.8K; Rating: M)

After Carlos leaves Cooper and TK to talk, all they do is talk about him. When Carlos comes home - they are still talking about him.

◆ Deep Talks and Cuddles by raniaswritings (Words: 1.2K; Rating: T)

TK talks to Cooper and Carlos comes back home after a few hours

◆ “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” by @irispurpurea (Words: 1.1K; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 13 and 14. Prompts: “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” “What are you doing?” Carlos looks up to find TK frowning at him from their bedroom. “I…” Carlos holds up the blanket in his hands, unsure what else to say. He thinks it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing. Then again, tonight has proven that he can’t do anything right, apparently, when it comes to TK.

◆ "It's your shirt..." by @lavendergiroux (Words: 780; Rating: M)

TK really didn't want to talk about it, he just really needed Carlos to claim him...

◆ sunkissed face by mooshkat (Words: 1K; Rating: T)

To show his appreciation, TK decides to make Carlos breakfast.

Spec Fics Written Prior to the Episode Airing/Canon Convergence:

◆ if the darkness comes, i'll stay by @doublel27 (Words: 3.2K; Rating: T)

“I had some things to do,” TK says, his stomach twisting. “Some things?” “Carlos, I texted,” TK reminds his boyfriend, because he did. “It’s fine.” “Is it?” Carlos asks, his voice dangerously calm. or TK comes home late for the third night in one week, and he and Carlos have a necessary confrontation. A speculative fic for 3x13.

◆ Caught by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 761; Rating: G)

“Who’s that?” Carlos doesn’t answer Mitchell’s question because he doesn’t know. There’s only a handful of people he can identify from the back, and this guy isn’t on the list. He has broad shoulders, though, and nice hair and is probably good-looking. Why else would TK be staring at him so intently?

◆ In Order to Get Back to Us by reyestrand (Words: 2.2K; Rating: G)

Carlos waits up for TK when he’s late coming home and they talk about the things they’re afraid to. - a 3x13 speculation fic

◆ still comparing your past to my future by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 17.4K; Rating: T)

Something else than the wallowing feeling of uneasiness, anxiety and hurt in the bottom of his stomach. All of it seems to have a chokehold on his heart and no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts always go back to TK, to worry that keeps mixing in with everything, and the brightness of TK’s smile, the way the corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes shone, when he smiled at someone else than him.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic rec #fic recs #fic rec list #tarlos fic #episode: s3e13 riddle of the sphynx #fic writers are amazing and we need to hype them up #my gifs #cutting it close on finishing up this list while still on the rewatch week for it!

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

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Remember Me? Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Tagging this as Rhys x reader because rhysie makes an appearance.

don't really like how i wrote this chapter, but thats okay...right?

also, i wanna choke rhys to death

•○🌑○•

Y/n locked the door behind her, trying her best to ignore the heated gaze she felt on the back of her head.

When she turned back to her son and him, she found him staring at her, his eyes unwavering. He felt guilty, that much she knew. What for, that she didn't.

Or maybe she did, but a part of her didn't want him to feel guilty because her son deemed him worthy of being given the title of his father.

That thought brought her to a conclusion. Talking to her son. Getting to know the reason he called the High lord of Autumn his father.

She smiled softly at Fin, deciding she'd talk to her neighbours about her abrupt departure later. She was going to ask one of her neighbour friends to let the home owner know of her departure and return the keys.

The walk to the ice cream shop was tense, though Fin obviously didn't notice as he told Y/n all about the things he and Eris did in Velaris. While Rhysand had been in their home, trying to manipulate Y/n into taking him back.

Eris occasionally chimed in, his eyes constantly fixed on Y/n, and she knew he was trying to get a reaction out of her.

Despite the fact that she barely knew anything about him and he only really cared about Fin, Y/n had a very weird feeling blooming in her chest.

Eris was... adorable.

Fin was holding both Y/n and Eris's hands as he hopped along he path, his excitement filling his little body with energy.

As soon as the ice cream shop came into view, the one where Eris and Fin had first met, Eris stilled, his leg hovering mid-air, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

Y/n finally glanced at Eris for the first time since Fin had called him his father, a question bubbling in her mind.

Before she could ask him what the matter was, though, he turned to Y/n.

"You two proceed. I'll be right there. I remembered something I need to do."

Y/n's brow furrowed, but she nodded. The next moment, Eris was gone, vanishing between the crowd on the streets of Velaris.

"Mommy, can we go there first?" Fin questioned, making her look at him. She followed his gaze to where he was pointing. It was his favourite bakery.

"Why?" She asked, subconsciously looking around to catch a glimpse of that familiar head of hair the colour of fire.

"Because I want to say bye to Miss Alina."

Y/n's heart swelled at that. Alina was an old lady who ran the bakery, and both the old lady and Fin had taken a liking to each other. Alina had never married after her lover died, so she didn't have any family other than a dying brother. She doted on Fin as if he were her own grandchild. And Fin, having never known the love of a grandmother, had instantly become a loving grandchild to a practical stranger.

"Sure my love."

Fin grinned happily at that.

"Thank you mommy!"

•○🌑○•

"Can I ask you something Fin?" Y/n questioned as she and Fin left the bakery.

Alina had practically been on the verge of tears the moment she found that Fin was leaving Velaris. As a result, she had stuffed anything she could find in sight into a paper bag and handed it to the little boy, telling him to eat all of it.

As fin walked, trying not to jostle his treats too much, he looked over at Y/n. "Yes mama."

"Why did you call Eris daddy?"

Fin nodded like it was the most reasonable question in the world. "Because he does everything daddies do."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Daddies play with children, take them out to have fun and let them eat ice creams."

Y/n held in a surprised laugh. "Where did you learn that?"

"By myself." Fin said proudly, puffing up his chest. "I noticed Sam's daddy did all those things for him."

"That is great my love."

After a moment's silence, Fin spoke again, though his voice was quieter. "Is he not my daddy?"

Y/n blinked. She wanted to say that Eris wasn't Fin's father, but it was as if a power greater than something Y/n could understand was controlling Y/n's words. "He is your daddy."

Fin's face brightened. Then he gasped at something in front of him, and Y/n lifted her head to follow his gaze. There, stood near the railing of the Sidra, exactly where they had first met, was Eris, a slash of a cruel smirk on his mouth. And he...

Was talking to Rhys.

Feyre and Nyx also stood there next to Rhys, watching the exchange between the two high lords.

The lapse in Y/n's focus gave Fin the perfect opportunity to break free of Y/n's hold and run to where Eris was standing.

"Daddy!" Fin squealed, the sound making Rhysand turn to look. His face broke into an disbelieving smile, his eyes going wide as he stared at Fin. His eyes met Y/n's for a moment, and he looked so grateful Y/n couldn't help but feel pity for him.

Fin ran straight into Eris's arms, laughing when Eris's hands found the little boy's ticklish areas and tickled, just a little before scooping him into his arms.

When Eris met Y/n's eyes, his were filled with weariness and caution, because he knew to never mess with a mother who was protective of her child. He still smiled widely at Fin, but his eyes spoke a whole different story.

And Y/n let a little, tiny smile bloom on her face as she walked towards Eris.

His eyes widened, his smile vanishing, his lips parting in surprise. That was when Y/n realised that she had never smiled much around Eris.

If she had, it had only been directed at Fin.

That had her feeling something she had not felt in a long time.

Feeling a heated gaze on the side of her head, she turned to find find Rhys glaring holes into her.

She tried not to swallow at the cold fire in that violet gaze.

She was intimidated, but still held eye contact with her former lover.

The tension in the air increased, the world ceasing to exist around Y/n and Rhysand.

A small, sinister smile curled his lips, and a shiver wound its way up Y/n's spine. The bags under his eyes and his overall tired look made him look like he was about to level the whole of Velaris for some fun.

Y/n felt guilty and wanted nothing more than to crawl to her true love, beg for his forgiveness and be with him again. Let him back in and love him in the all consuming way she had always loved him. Sit Fin down and tell him Eris was not his father and Rhys was.

Y/n?

Y/n jolted, blinking rapidly as she searched around for the mortal scum that had stolen her lover-

Fin was looking at Y/n when she turned to him, and concern was evident in his features.

And Y/n realised three things in that moment. The first being that two people had been in her mind. The second being that Feyre was concerned and had been trying to call for Y/n, and when she didn't respond, Feyre had slipped into Y/n's mind.

And that Rhys had been trying to control her again.

Her blood boiled as she met Rhys eyes again. They were hard now and filled with murderous intent.

"Daddy, can we get ice cream now? Then we can share the cupcakes miss Alina gave me." Fin asked, and that was enough to draw Y/n's attention.

Eris shot a look between Y/n and Rhys, his brows furrowed. Y/n shook her head slightly, and then Eris turned to Fin, smiling. "Sure, let's go."

Eris walked off, asking Fin about Alina's wellbeing. Y/n watched them go, smiling slightly at the happiness on Fin's face.

Every child deserved happiness without having to worry about anything.

But her stomach churned, knowing what she was about to do next might very well ruin a child's life.

Y/n turned back to where Feyre stood, holding Nyx in her arms. Feyre had a slight smile on her face, staring after Fin and Eris as Nyx began wiggling in Feyre's arms, and she let him onto the ground.

Nyx waddled the short distance to his father, looking up at the male with wide, innocent eyes as he tugged on Rhys's pants.

"Papa? Can we go too?" He asked in a sweet voice, one that would make anyone in the world cave to his demands.

Rhys didn't bother looking at the little boy. "No."

Nyx blinked, as if not having expected the answer. "Please papa."

Rhys sighed, his frustration showing through his voice. "I said no, Nyx. Can you not understand the simple answer?"

Nyx's lip wobbled, and Y/n's heart clenched. By the look on Feyre's face, she felt the same.

"Papa please. I want to eat ice cream with Finnie." The little boy was on the verge of tears, not used to such a harsh behaviour from his father.

Rhys shot a scathing glare at the little boy. "You want to go have fun with Finnie, go. I will not come with you. Cauldron, you are getting on my nerves now."

With that, Rhysand shot into the sky, muttering to himself.

Nyx stared after him, tears escaping his eyes as he started hiccuping and sobbing loudly.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to Nyx. "It's okay baby. You and I can get ice cream with Fin without daddy."

Nyx stomped angrily, pushing away Feyre's hands as they tried to wrap around him. "No! I don't want to get ice cream without papa."

Y/n could do nothing but watch helplessly, her own heart screeching in agony.

"I hate papa." He sobbed, wiping his nose on his sleeve furiosly, still staring at the fading figure of Rhys in the sky.

"You should not say that Nyx-"

"Do you not want to spend time with Fin?" Y/n cut Feyre off, crouching next to Nyx. "Fin is going away and might not be able to meet you for long time. You should at least come to say goodbye."

Nyx's crying ceased for a moment, soft hiccups shaking his body as he seemed to think on what Y/n had said.

He sniffed loudly, glancing at Feyre before nodding. "Okay."

Feyre and Y/n led Nyx into the ice cream shop where Fin was staring at all the flavours displayed, an adorable furrow in his brow, his tiny hands on his hip like he was contemplating the best way to attack his enemies. The moment the bell above the store chimed, Fin turned to look, his face brightening at the sight of Nyx. He motioned the younger boy to come forward, which Nyx did.

The moment Nyx left, Feyre turned to Y/n.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. About that..."

Y/n took a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something."

•○🌑○•

Part 8

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rogertaylorsprettyvoice · 11 months ago

Text

(roger taylor x y/n)

No lock in the studio

tw: NSFW and explicit language!

word count: 2,790

tags: fem! reader, big age gap, unprotected sex, sex in the work place, dirty talk, sassy roger, quickie, oral sex (giving), penetrative sex, nipple pay, aftersex care

You're 24, you work as a sound engineer for a famous label but you didn't realise today would be the day you'd be left alone in a studio with Roger Taylor.

Peter. I need to find Peter, you think to yourself. You're frustrated and it shows. I'm not a fricking secretary. You're walking through the hallways of the studio looking for the sign S-16 on the door. It's the best studio in the building, which makes sense because Peter is very respected here. It's also the furthest and the longer you're walking, the more annoyed you are. You're really hoping he's alone in there right now. The whole reason why you're walking in the first place is because he cut his phone line off. He really hates to be disturbed.

After hopping for a good 5 minutes through the endless hallways, you finally find the said S-16 door. If he was recording right now, the big red sign above the door would be on. You still discreetly check though the small round window and only see him sitting on his chair, his back turned to you, so you knock.

"Come on in.

- Peter, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Carl is out there fuming about god knows what and obviously he sends ME because I've got nothing better to do than run around like his secretary."

He looks amused, which is reassuring for Peter, but you quickly understand when you hear someone coughing behind you. This day isn't getting any better. You sigh and turn around only to find a familiar face smoking a cigarette on the couch behind the door. It takes you a minute to realise who's standing up to greet you and you feel embarrassed for showing your bad temper in front of a client, especially this one.

You know you should get used to meeting artists and act professional but you weren't expecting to meet Roger freakin Taylor.

He smiles at you and you proceed to shake hands.

"Y/N, please meet Roger, Roger, this is Y/N, our very promising sound engineer.

- Very promising, you say? Nice to meet you, Roger greets you.

- Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's a pleasure to meet you Sir, you smile back trying to keep it cool.

- Sir? God, don't ever call me Sir, I'm not that old, am I?"

Roger and Peter laugh while you stare in disbelief. You stutter and try to take it back but they seem to forget about it when Roger sits next to your colleague. It took you only two minutes to embarrass myself and insult the greatest drummer of all times, great.

"Y/N, what does Carl want that is so urgent?

- A client is freaking out up there and he thinks it's your fault, but this is all I could understand before he sent me off to fetch you like his little pet."

Now, Peter looks pissed. He gets up from his seat with little to no conviction and says:

"I think I know what this is about.. Rog, let me go check on him really quickly. I'm sorry but Carl can be a real pain in the ass sometimes and he won't let it go unless I come find him."

Roger nods and looks understanding. Peter proceeds to go out, so you start following him outside, eager to watch him put Carl back in his place, but a voice stops you.

"Y/N, can I ask for your opinion?"

The drummer looks at you from his seat, waiting for an answer, but all you can think about is how Roger Taylor wants your opinion.

"I'm sorry, he adds sarcastically, I should have called you Miss, I knew I was moving too fast."

Your laugh lights up the room and the tension your previously felt vanishes.

"Much better, thank you, Sir."

Gosh, he looks handsome when he smiles. And when he doesn't smile. Or when he laughs. Of course, you know who Roger Taylor is, you've seen him before on pictures and on the telly, but now that you're face to face with him, you only have one word on your mind and it's gorgeous.

He doesn't look like he needs much to look good. He's wearing a plain white shirt and somehow looks like the most beautiful man on earth. Although, you have to admit that the way he's wearing it, rolled up sleeves, not fitted, with a button that shows a little more than it should, is very suggestive.

"I would like you to hear this demo I recorded with Peter. I think it's missing something but I don't know what."

The music resonates in the studio and you carefully listen to the arrangement. It's got a rock vibe, with a bit of grunge. For a full two minutes, you're focused on the song, so much that you forget about Roger's presence. The music stops but you hit play again.

"Listen here. Great beginning. But how about you take out some of the guitar harmonies to have a much clearer sound in the first verse to build it up towards the end."

Roger frowns and nods, he is focused on what you're saying. You go on about rhythms, musicality, what adjustments he should make to your opinion. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be invested like this. When you're finally finished, he gives you an impressed look.

"Now I get what Peter meant when he said promising."

You're flattered but can’t hide your smile.

"How long have you been a sound engineer?

- Well, I'd say for about two years.

- Two years and you talk just like Peter.

- That's because he's kinda my mentor and he's the reason why I came here.

- Wait, hold on, how old are you?

- I'm 24, you were not expecting him to get personal with you this quickly which makes you smile.

- Shit, I'm way out of your league then."

You both look at each other with a hint of challenge in your eyes.

"And you're like what? 40? you tease him.

- Try 36, he takes out a cigarette and stares at you while he breathes in.

- I don't mind, you say, looking straight in his eyes with a smirk.

- You don't mind?

- I don't mind, no, you say with a softer voice, never breaking the eye contact."

You don't understand how the mood shifted so quickly, but the room is now filled with an invisible tension. His eyes linger on your body and lurk you up and down. You love how he doesn't even try to hide his attraction to you. He fully looks like he could devour you right now.

You stand up from your seat to come closer to him and sit on the corner of the control table. You're only inches away from each other. His leg is slightly touching yours and this simple friction is almost too much to endure.

You're looking at him from above but his stare makes it so hard to maintain. His gaze is burning your skin. He’s sitting down, full of his cocky attitude, looking up with his doe eyes.

"I think that Peter, you pause, might be coming back, you almost whisper.”

He stands up and slowly pulls you closer with every word he says, his eyes locked into yours at all times.

“Yeah, he says, I think he’ll be back soon.

- We shouldn’t stand so close to each other, then.

- No, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

But he doesn’t move. If anything, the tension makes it hard for you to not get any closer. His face is only a moment away from touching yours. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes, move between the tip of your nose and your eyes because you’re so close that he can’t even see your lips anymore.

A warm feeling arises from your lower back. It’s his hand, placed on your Venus dimples. It tickles you, very slightly, and the feeling grows on your stomach. The warmth climbs to your chest and shrouds your bosom.

Roger’s raspy voice suddenly brings you back from wherever you were mentally. You almost forgot about where you were.

“What should we do? his hand slowly lingers on your body.

- Maybe, lock the door? you ask with a smile.

- Or maybe not, says Roger.”

He loves the surprised look on your face. There’s something in his eyes - he’s provoking you. It’s impossible to look away, you are entirely focused on him and start to feel dizzy from the heat. His hand, previously placed on your lower-back, embraces your hip while finding a way under your tee-shirt. You shiver. His hands feel so cold on your burning skin.

With his other hand, he lifts your chin up then cups your face to get a good look at you. He tucks his fingers between your ear which makes you feel the need to gently rub your cheek against his palm. The scent of his perfume mixed with cigarettes completely takes over your analytical judgement; you give him one last look before you lose yourself and lean in, gently placing your lips on his.

Your hands find a way to bury in his neck while his right palm brings your hips together. The kiss is slow, very slow, so slow but so wet. It didn’t take you long to find the way to his pink muscle and yours are now dancing in each other’s mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, tongue caressing yours, pelvis pressed against his very tight pants; it’s almost too much to bare, you want more. No, you need more, you need him whole.

The kiss escalates quickly, making you whimper at how well he explores your mouth. His hands linger around your body, teasing you by caressing your sensitive breast, although he doesn’t yield to your moaning; he seems to like to torment you by grabbing you everywhere else. The feeling gets too overwhelming. You find your way to his shirt and start unbuttoning it until his chest is bare. You sense him smile against your lips. He must like your initiative.

He pulls you out. You instantly feel the need to reconnect with his lips.

“I want you so bad, doll.

- Do you want my mouth too? you say with your doe eyes.

- It’s already mine.”

The heat in your lower stomach migrates to your inner thighs and you can’t ignore the wetness anymore. Your hands brush his chest until they find a way to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. When you look down, you wonder how his pants did not explode. It’s so big you can’t wait to feel it inside of your drenched walls. But you’ve got something else in mind for him.

You kneel. He stares at you from above which makes him sexier than ever. He grabs your hair into an improvised ponytail. You take his member with your hand, slowly lick every inch of it, bottom to its wet tip, before shoving it in your mouth. Roger groans and lets go of the tension. You start moving a little bit, your hand follows your movement and you let your tongue play with it. It feels so freaking good. How can it feel so good? It’s unreal.

You look up to find him already looking down on you, mouth open, eyebrows frowned, wild blonde hair that he keeps pushing from his face. You want to hear his voice again, so you really shove it, deeper, until you feel it in your throat. The most beautiful sound comes to your ear while you’re trying to stay still. You would be moaning so loudly if he wasn’t in your mouth.

“Love, may I help you with my hand?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to because the grip on your hair gets tighter. You nod obviously, eager to see a glimpse of dom Roger.

You resume your sucking and moaning. You’re so dirty, he says, and with that, he thrusts his hard cock deep into your throat. You’ve never been taken care of like this. He’s intense, but not too quick, enjoying your wet mouth between each thrust. You can’t ignore it anymore; you’re drenched.

He gives it a little more strength before he finally pulls out. You can finally breathe. You hadn’t realised you couldn’t, you were too focused on the way he filled your mouth. You’re both panting - not for the same reason though.

“Come here, Y/N.”

He helps you back up, but doesn’t spare a second to pick you up and place you on the edge of the control table. He undresses your lower body, throwing your underwear in the room, and you lift your shirt to unravel your perfect tits, as he says.

“Roger, please, I need you in me, you whine. - Fuck, Y/N…”

He brings his hard cock towards your entrance and moans at the wetness of it. Slowly, he goes in while leaning in to kiss you, but you can't stop moaning, even against his lips. For a second, he intensifies the kiss and goes as deep as he can inside of you. You grab him by the shoulders, by his neck, ready to exhale due to the pleasure but he surprises you when he starts going faster, deeper, and groans while he fills you in really good. He grabs you by the back of your neck and goes faster. He doesn’t miss one opportunity to make you scream.

He slows down and locks his eyes into yours. His movements are like torture. So slow. The wet sounds fill the air and mix with your heavy breaths. He resumes kissing your lips then slowly goes down your neck. Oh my God, he's so hard. You're so hard, Roger. His lips go down and finally find their way to your breast. He licks your hard nipples and you let out the loudest moan while he's fucking you good. He licks them again and grabs your tits in his hand before whispering in your ear:

“You're such a little cunt…”

You don't think you've ever been this wet at the sound of someone's voice. Roger just knows how to make you horny for him and the thought of being his little cunt makes you so aroused that you forget how to breathe properly. The thrusts fill you again, and again, and again before you eventually feel it coming; your hands grab tightly onto him and you desperately look for his eyes before you manage to say:

“I'm coming, Rog…”

The world stops turning for a second. But he doesn’t stop. He’s harder than ever and your mind is completely empty. Your stomach tightens as well as your inner walls The air has left your lungs and your heart just might come out of your chest.

And then the tension just explodes in a loud moan. He's still going hard, frowning his eyebrows and you suspect he's not too far either. Every movement he gives you is like an electric choc that makes the pleasure last longer. It's like a wave of relief that takes over your whole body. You take his hand and place it on your tit before locking eyes with him.

“Don't stop looking at me, you tell him.”

He doesn't. In fact, he's as deep in your eyes as in your pussy and he feels like he's losing control over his own body. He’s going fucking crazy. Absolutely feral for you. He gives you a few more powerful thrusts before he pulls out and spits his thick semen on your stomach. You hear again his raspy voice groaning and he finally stops moving.

His forehead is pressed against yours and for some reason you both can't stop smiling. He leans in and kisses you, softly this time. His lips are so soft, gosh.

Roger helps you clean up and picks up your clothes on the floor to help you with that too. How was this man a literal beast moments ago and acts like the sweetest man alive?

You're both fully clothed now, cheeks still pink, and he takes it upon himself to make your hair look presentable. Roger grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him.

“I wish I had more time to actually taste you. You were so wet for me.”

But you don't have time to answer because you both hear footsteps approaching, and the door opens with Peter. A little bit disappointed, you let go of each other but not without a shy smile.

“Y/N? You're still here? Don't you have work to do?”

You hurry to the door, worried he might notice the state of your hair and make-up.

“I asked her to stay so I wouldn’t get bored.”

You don’t need to see him to picture the smirk on his face. Although, before you go, you look back and catch him already smiling at you.

#smut #70's #70's smut #rogertaylor #roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor Y/N

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