#and feeling anxious that i didn’t explain it right (because words are hard)

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty seven

authors note: none.

cw/tw: angst, threats of violence, csa survivor being triggered

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k

Solana gasps when the familiar scent of her husband’s cologne, strong yet subtle, invades her nostrils conjoined with the welcoming embrace of his strong arms around her body. Naturally, she turns around from the counter where she was putting away dishes, a small smile on her face as he rests his hands on the small of her back. 

However, her grin dims a bit when she sees he’s fully dressed. “You’re leaving already?”

Roman nods, explaining, “I need to get back on track. The sooner, the better.” 

His words, logically, make sense. But, they do nothing to abate her nerves. “What if you worked from home?” She then proposes in an almost selling manner. “I called off today anyway, so I’ll be here in case you need something.”

Something being a euphemism for the word anything. In the few days that have passed since the funeral, Solana has continued to stay with and watch her husband like a hawk. Ready to support him in any way that he needs, the memory of him breaking down in front of her, holding her while he cried into her stomach, something she will never forget.

Something he desperately needed.

And something he hasn’t outright spoken about. She gets it. Understands how both major and uncomfortable that had to have been for him. Emotions are tricky and confusing, and for someone who’s used to pushing them away, feeling them all at once can be….an experience.

His thick brows furrow slightly, as he asks the million dollar question. “Why’d you call off?”

Shit.

A couple of reasons. 

Beyond just the obvious of wanting to be physically present and available for him.

One, while her husband was in their home gym, trying to work off some of his still heavy emotions, she sat near the toilet for almost twenty minutes, vomiting twice and afraid of a third occurrence, hence her not leaving. Second, Solana still feels not the best—morning sickness attacking her with all the rage the past two days. Three, she has the appointment today. 

And none of these things can be said to the man before her who looks understandably confused. 

So, she goes with a not entirely untrue answer but not the full truth either. “Didn’t really feel up to it today.” Her fingers scrunch the soft material of his shirt. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave you alone….”

And that is not a lie. Solana has tried her best to keep reminding herself that she can’t be with her husband 24/7, but given how they have been together practically 24/7 for over a week straight, it’s kind of hard not to want that to continue.

She’s anxious at the thought of not being nearby in case he needs something.

In case he needs her.

Roman shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” There’s a hint of concern etched in his handsome features as he asks, “are you sure you’re okay?” Solana does her best to remain with a neutral expression even as his shifts into something of a frown. “Feel like you’ve been sick a lot lately...”

“Stress,” she answers. Again, technically not a lie. “It’s just been…..a lot recently.” But then, she feels bad because she sees that he feels bad. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I just need to make sure you’re….okay enough.”

Because wanting him to be good is a ridiculous expectation. Not with what he’s just been through. She knows better than anyone how recovery from a major loss like that can take some time. 

A lot of time.

Roman’s still looking at her unconvinced. Like….like there’s something he’s not saying.

Or asking.

And, it’s unnerving, because sitting on a pile of secrets is always stressful enough. Adding in her overtly protective and possibly suspicious husband is even more unsettling and not anything she can tolerate right now.

“I’ll come see you at lunch then,” she suggests, partially wanting to actually check on him mid-day but also needing them to get off this subject. 

It seems to work, as he objects, “you don’t have to do that, Sol.”

“But, I want to,” she counters, lifting her palm to his cheek. “You’ve helped me get to the point where I’m okay….now it’s my turn.”

Solana is unsure what okay will look like for Roman, because everyone’s definition is different. But, whatever it is, whatever it requires, she’s willing and ready to walk with him, right by his side, the entire time.

Roman leans down and kisses her forehead, muttering, “come with me.” He straightens back up and goes to grab her hand, explaining, “I want to show you something.” 

Solana nods and allows him to walk them out the kitchen and past the living room where she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. Roman guides them up the steps and into their bedroom only for her to gasp, turning to him with a small smile. “Roman? What is all of this?”

This referring to the more than several set of small to medium black, luxury shopping bags with a foreign word written in calligraphy sitting on the dresser. Moving closer, another gasp when she realizes they’re almost all filled with various sized jewelry boxes. 

“When did you even….” She trails off, grabbing a random box and opening it, mouth dropping at the stunning diamond necklace. “Roman, this is beautiful.” Because it is, and she’s certain every other piece he’s apparently purchased for her is just as stunning. 

He’s moved over towards her, arms crossed as he explains, “it’s handmade Italian jewelry. I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d like best, so I just got it all.” He says it so casually, Solana’s eyes widening at the thought of how much all of this could have cost. 

“How much did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “You’re worth it all.”

His words warm her heart and make those butterflies form as her eyes land on something else. Carefully closing the box and placing it back inside the bag, she’s quick with grabbing the beautiful brown leathered book. “You got me journals!” It’s said with such elation, almost childlike, evoking a chuckle from Roman. The smile on her face widening as she runs her hand over the soft cover. Opening said journal, an engravement on the inside of the front cover catches her attention. It’s written in what she would guess is Italian.

Italian jewelry. Italian leather, most likely. Putting two and two together would indicate these are gifts he got her while he was away in Italy. A realization that makes her heart flutter. He was there on business yet still made time for her.

Always thinking of her.

Moved and now especially curious about the words she cannot read for herself, Solana asks, “what does it say?”

And without even reading it, Roman speaks in Italian, moving his hand to gently cup her face as he translates in a quiet voice, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her heart swells, eyes shutting momentarily to bask in the moment. Love is such a beautiful, sacred thing, treasured and coveted. Something she’s found, so deeply and heavenly, with him.

Always with him. 

And it’s in that moment, as she leans up and kisses him, reciprocating her vow of love, that it hits her. 

Solana knows exactly what tattoo she wants to get for her husband.

————

The minute the backdoor is opened and Roman slides in the SUV, he’s met with Dwayne’s hulking frame, phone glued to his ear.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s impossible. Make it possible,” he barks. Roman chuckles. His cousins’s temper can rival his at times, and this aggression and irritation that fills the SUV makes it a bit easier for him to drift from sorrow to business. 

Emotions have always been…..weird for him. Something he’s always possessed but worked tirelessly to push away and suppress, only to ever really reveal and express around one woman before Solana.

Fetu.

She was always his safe space. His anchor. His safety.

Her being gone isn’t something that’s computed, that’s truly set in, that he’s accepted. Or, maybe he has. Maybe it was that crushing realization that not only is she gone but that he didn’t even get to see or speak to her one last time that made him break down in his wife’s arms.

Years.

It’s been years since Roman has cried. Not since the day of the funerals where he refused to leave the gravesite of his deceased family. Where he cried and apologized profusely for hours for not being able to save them.

For failing them and not being strong enough to do so.

That….that was the last day he’d allowed himself to shed a tear.

Until now.

It was both a strange, liberating experience. One he never wants to experience again but also…..needs.

Two opposing forces that make little sense and account for a shit ton of cognitive dissonance. 

The only thing that does make sense is his wife.

Solana.

That is the one thing, the one person he needs. Now more than ever.

And she’s been nothing but his rock throughout this whole thing. Even when he tried to push her away and ice her out, she stayed. Supported him. Helped him. Cared for him. Loved him. 

He wasn’t lying when he told her he couldn’t have made it through this without her.

He couldn’t.

At all. 

And as nice as being with her, not having to think or focus on anything but himself and all of his heavy ass emotions has been, it couldn’t last forever. 

Because as much as he still feels not okay, he’s gotta pull it together. 

One way or another. 

“Yeah….that’s what I fucking thought,” Dwayne snaps, pulling Roman from his thoughts, before snatching the phone from his ear and smashing the red end button. “Fucking incompetent pieces of shit.”

“Do I want to know?” Roman asks, even though he really wants to substitute want with need. Right now, essential information and problems is all he wants to tackle this day. It’s bad enough his Wise Man is out sick.

Paul is usually the buffer and filter for all the bullshit, something Roman truly has little patience for on most days, even more on a day like today.

“Naw.” Dwayne shakes his head. “I got it.” He turns to his cousin as Roman signals for the driver to start driving. “How you doing?”

A dumbass question in Roman’s mind, but he doesn’t say as such. “Fine.” He’s not, but as easy as Dwayne can be to talk to sometimes, if Roman is going to talk to someone about feelings and shit, it’s going to be his wife.

And, well, her. 

Maybe. 

“Bullshit,” Dwayne calls him out, lightly shoving his shoulder. “But, getting back into the swing of things might be helpful for you. You like yelling at people.”

“I shouldn’t have to though,” is the easy counter. “People should just do their fucking job.”

Dwayne gestures to his phone. “That’s what I just told this dumbass.” Roman snickers and shakes his head as his older cousin clears his throat and suddenly asks, “that wife of yours talk to you?”

Roman easily hides the way his shoulders tense at being asked about Solana. “About?”

Dwayne’s expression shifts into something a bit more serious, and this isn’t lost upon Roman. “About what went down with Rikishi?”

“Yes.” The answer to that is easy and simple. Solana did technically tell him something happened between her and his older cousin, but she did not say specifics. And he knows that was for a reason. “Now tell me what really happened.”

————

The conference room is already filled with the expected persons by the time Roman and Dwayne arrive. All but two chairs are occupied as Jimmy, Jey, Solo, Rikishi, and Matteo wait with various expressions. The sons and father seem to be engaged in quiet conversation while Matteo keeps to himself, preoccupied with the phone in his hand.

That dynamic is about all that Roman can make out as he marches right into said conference room, Dwayne not too far behind. The men are barely able to finish standing when Roman marches right over to Rikishi’s chair, grabbing him by his collar, snatching him out the chair and shoving him against the nearest wall. 

Roman is somewhat cognizant of the voices of shock and protest around him, but it doesn’t make a single fucking difference.

He’s seeing red.

Muscled forearm barred against Rikishi’s fat neck, he finds joy in the way the older man’s eyes are bulging and the almost desperate way his chubby fingers try to push him away. “If you ever in your fucking life raise your hand to her again, I’ll kill you! You understand me!” Roman relishes in the absolute fear emanating from the man before him. Good. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my wife!”

By now, Roman is a bit more cognizant to the hands grasping at him, trying to pull him away from his target.

“Ayo, Uce, what the hell you doing!” Jimmy’s voice makes it past the thick wall of anger that fills and consumes Roman as he thinks about this fucker having to audacity to try to hit his wife.

Over Roman’s dead fucking body will anyone disrespect Solana. Especially his family.

“Get the hell off him!” Roman is finally “pulled” away from a now gasping, coughing Rikishi. It’s truly Roman’s decision to let go, because ain’t no way in hell not a man in that room could stop him from killing this son of a bitch right now if he wanted to.

And a part of him does. He really does. But, it’s hard to tell how much of that desire is fueled by his grief vs logic. 

But, it’s when Roman realizes both Jey and Solo are standing in front of a reddened face Rikishi, while Jimmy tends to his dad, that he really gets pissed the fuck off. They have the audacity to look like they’re ready to jump him. “What ya’ll about to do, huh?” Roman challenges, ready for whatever. As he always is. “Ya’ll ain’t about to do shit!” 

And maybe, just maybe, they are. Doesn’t matter. He’ll kick both their asses and make their daddy watch. 

Jimmy then moves over after helping Rikishi to his feet. “Roman, what the hell are you even talking about?”

Chin jutted in Rikishi’s direction, his answer is cold and direct. “Ask him.”

Another harsh cough followed by an unexpected answer as he moves to the side, no longer completely obscured by the protective wall of two of his sons. “She hit me first. Did she tell you that?”

At that answer, both Jey and Jimmy look slightly taken back. Solo just continues to glare at Roman, who’s tempted to knock him out for that disrespect alone.

“She did,” Dwayne suddenly chimes, him and Matteo simply watching the scene unfold without a hint of interference. For now. “But, this was only after you made fun of her being abused and basically told her she was useless because she hasn’t produced an heir yet.” Just hearing it again has Roman’s eyes closing and hand fisting at his side. Rage. “Regardless, you know the rules. We don’t put our fucking hands on women.” And then an almost knowing comment/question. “Or have you forgotten?”

It’s a simple question, but it feels like there’s a story there. The way anger flashes in Rikishi’s face and eyes, something similar to what’s painted on his twins faces. Roman, however, is redirected from wondering if there was more to said comment by Jimmy and Jey switching their focus back to their dad.

“Dad, did you really do that?” Jimmy is the one to ask, shaking his head. “Tell me you ain’t say that shit.”

Rikishi doesn’t hesitate to defend himself. “The girl was out of line.”

“Aye,” Jimmy is the one to cut him off. “Her name is Solana, alright?”

“Just let him talk,” Jey interrupts. “Two sides to every story.”

“Not when it’s a man trying to hit a woman,” Jimmy counters. “Making fun of her trauma and shit.”

Jey is also not backing down. “Look, we weren’t there, alright?”

“But, I was, and I saw exactly what went down,” Dwayne reminds, crossing his arms. 

“And if I may,” Matteo suddenly enters the conversation, Jey only looking more irritated than before. “Under no circumstance should a man try to hit a woman. Ever.” 

Jey doesn’t hesitate to try to put Matteo in his place. “Aye, look, this don’t involve you, alright. This Bloodline business.” 

“I suggest you lower your voice.” Matteo’s own voice takes on an icy tone as he so chillingly threatens, “I’d hate to have to spill your blood in front of your family. On this otherwise lovely day, too. A shame.”

Matteo’s very real threat only further incenses Jey. “I know you not fucking threatening me.” He steps forward, Solo reaching to restrain his older brother. “Man, I’ll knock your ass out!”

Matteo smiles. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Jey points to Roman, “you better get your fucking boy, Roman.”

Roman couldn’t care too much about that. “Tell your fucking dad to keep his hands off my wife.”

“Man, you overreacting! He ain’t even touch her!”

Roman growls, “just because you don’t give a fuck about your bitch of a wife—”

“What the hell you just say?” At that, Jey’s very paltry sense of resolve breaks. “I told you, you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife, or we gon have problems!”

Roman goes to move toward Jey, never ever scared when both Matteo and Dwayne go to restrain him. “If you gon do something, do it!” It takes a great amount of strength from both men to hold back an irate, borderline unhinged Roman. “I’ll whoop you and your daddy’s ass, and if Solo keeps looking at me like he’s lost his goddamn mind, I’ll kick his ass too!”

“That’s enough!” Jimmy finally cuts in, also going to restrain Jey, standing between an almost standoff. Rikishi, Solo, and Jey vs Roman, Dwayne, and Matteo. “Everybody just needs to calm down!”

“Your anger is misplaced, Uce.” Rikishi sounds, Dwayne still holding onto Roman’s arm while Matteo has loosened his grip in favor of focusing on the other three, waiting to see if they’ll do something. “Especially considering I was the one who tried to plead on your behalf just this morning,” he taunts almost, as if trying to get under Roman's skin even further. 

And, it partially works. 

Roman doesn’t need anyone to do shit for him.

“Plead for what?” Dwayne is the one to ask, recognizing verbalizations are a much better alternative to the physical melee that’s on the horizon if de-escalation doesn’t start. And fast. 

Rikishi straightens up, adjusting his tie, almost as if he’s trying to act like his life didn’t just end suddenly and violently. “The Elders have grown tired of waiting for the Tribal Chief to produce an heir.” Dwayne tightens his grip ever so slightly, feeling Roman try to inch away from him. “You and your wife are to conceive by the end of the year….or else.”

It’s almost an instant thing, several sets of eyes all on Roman, most of which trying to anticipate and navigate his next move.

Meanwhile, Roman’s mouth shifts, his nose snarled as he finds himself shouting, Dwayne again having to hold him back from lunging. “Or else what!”

Rikishi’s voice is eerily calm as he answers in an even voice, “they will make you divorce Solana and take a new wife of their choosing this time.”

————

There’s an emptiness she feels sitting in the patient room, waiting for the nurse to walk in. Roman’s absence is noticeable and heavy, and she hates it. Hates that this is yet another thing that she has to keep from him.

That she’s chosen to keep from him, because at this point, these are choices she’s making. 

She chose to not tell him about her potentially being pregnant. Chose to not tell him once the pregnancy was confirmed. And chose to still not tell him even as she sits at her first OB-GYN appointment.

And yes, all of that may be for good reasons, for her wanting to protect and be mindful of where he is mentally and emotionally.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that it sucks.

And that it hurts.

It hurts a lot. 

Following a small knock and opening of the door, Solana looks up from her lap and wipes away at her blurry gaze, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s just walked in. “Hello.”

She’s young, probably close to Solana’s age, her scrubs revealing a slim, lithe figure. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders and frames her features nicely. She’s a stunning woman. 

A woman, however, who fails to reciprocate Solana’s kind gesture. Not right away, at least. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she greets, “Mrs. Reigns. I didn’t—they didn’t tell me it was you…..give me just one minute?” The nurse doesn’t wait for a reply, just leaves a confused Solana sitting in the patient room wondering just what the hell is going on.

She’s just about ready to step out into the hallway when the nurse returns, quietly closing the door behind her. “I’m so sorry.” 

Solana has to ask, nails nervously tapping against the bed. “Is….is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she answers. Quickly. Too quickly. “Shit, no.” Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she walks over to Solana and offers one of the wildest introductions ever. “My name is Sasha, and I know you don’t know me, and I’m probably crazy as hell for even telling you this, but I—I used to sleep with your husband.”

Solana’s shoulders slump at the same time her chest tightens. “W–what?”

Sasha’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head and explains. “It’s been months. Like not since the beginning of this year, but I—I was one of the ones…..” She presses her fingers to her temples. “God, this is so messed up. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I tried to see if another nurse could handle you, but everyone is busy and…..fuck.”

Fuck is most definitely the right world. Of all the places. Of all the nurses. Solana just so happens to get the one nurse who used to be one of her husband’s fuck buddies.

Go fucking figure.

“I haven’t spoken or done anything with him in months. I swear.” She then lifts her left hand to show off a beautiful engagement ring. “Funnily enough, this is actually my last week working here. My fiance—long story— and I are from the same town, and he just got a job back home, so we’re moving next week.” She adds in a bitter tone, “kinda wish it was this week now.”

With the absence of Solana’s voice, Sasha proceeds to fill the silence. “Mrs. Reigns, I really am sorry. I know I had no business still sleeping with your husband after you two got married, but we’d been….intimate on and off for years, and he was just someone—”

“Please,” Solana finally speaks, voice low and soft. “Please don’t. I—I get it.”

Because with the shock worn off and the discomfort waning, as irritating as this is, it doesn’t necessarily matter. 

This Sasha woman was Roman’s past. Solana knows that she’s his present and future, so from that logic, what reason does she have to be upset?

At least with Sasha.

She does, however, have a reason to be nervous.

Hand naturally falling to her stomach, she says in a much more desperate voice than she’d like, “you can’t tell anyone—”

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widen once more as she shakes her head. “Outing the Tribal Chief’s wife’s pregnancy is a sure way for me to go missing, and I’d actually like to make it down the aisle.” Sasha visibly tenses, suddenly asking in a lowered voice. “Wait, is he he—”

“No.” That’s it. That’s the only answer Solana can bring herself to give. And it seems enough, Sasha nodding before the two settle into an awkward silence.

“Is it okay if…..if we get started?”

Solana nods, still a bit boggled by the whole situation but recognizing that it’s not the priority. 

“Of course,” she agrees. 

All things considered, Sasha is the epitome of professionalism. She asks her questions, takes down the information given to her, draws Solana’s blood and directs her to the bathroom where the pregnant woman gives a urine sample, all while maintaining a calm, friendly disposition.

There’s nothing, surprisingly, awkward about it. 

And that’s appreciated. Shocking, too, given who she is and who she was to Roman. 

It’s only when she’s wrapping up her portion that she clears her throat again. “I hope this doesn’t come across as an inappropriate question and feel free to tell me to mind my damn business, but can I ask why Roman isn’t here?”

Solana is tempted, almost ready to take Sasha up on her suggestion to tell her to mind her own damn business, but there’s something so genuine about her question. A sadness in her voice and sympathetic look in her eyes. It seems to come from a place of genuine concern. 

Solana finds herself answering honestly. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Sasha makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should have never asked. It’s just….with how much he must care about you—”

“What makes you say that?” Solana knows the words to be true. Knows that Roman cares about her. Loves her. But how and why the woman in front of her knows this is what makes her slightly suspicious.

Sasha sighs, answering almost nervously, “a man like Roman Reigns doesn’t just cut off his entire roster of women in exchange for one if she doesn’t mean something to him.” She shrugs, adding on, “and I mean, look at what he did to Sam’s uppity ass.”

If not for the confusion, Solana would maybe chuckled a bit. She’s not heard one good thing about Sam from a single person. Not one. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you didn’t hear?” Sasha sucks her teeth, smiling a bit. “He had Nia whoop her ass. Well deserved, in my opinion.”

Solana gasps. “What?”

“Yup,” Sasha pops the ‘p.’ “Had her break that bitch jaw.”

Solana sits there stunned, briefly struggling to understand the reasons why only for it to come to her so easily.

The night of the fight. 

Sam’s cruel words to her in the bathroom. 

Solana told Roman. Roman said he’d handle it.

Clearly, that was how it was handled. 

“You be careful with that one though,” Sasha advises, expression shifting to something a bit serious. “She was always delusional believing Roman was gonna marry her ass. And a couple weeks ago, I saw her drunk in a bar lamenting about how much she hates you and can’t wait to—her words, not mine—give you exactly what you deserve.”

The words should bother her. Maybe even trigger a sense of concern. Solana recognizes that would be a normal reaction, especially given the world that they live in. However, concern and even fear are not the emotions that rise at Sasha’s information.

Anger.

Anger is the only thing she feels. 

Solana isn’t the same woman Sam cornered in the bathroom and talked down to.

She’s changed. Grown. Is better in so many ways and stronger in so many more.

So, Sam can try some shit if she wants to.

Solana is ready this time. 

“I’m not scared of her,” is all she says, hand falling protectively to her stomach. 

“I can see that,” Sasha says with a small smile, tapping on the screen a couple more times. “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Dr. Sharmell will take over the rest.” She pauses. “Like I said, this is my last week here, so Alexa or Jakara will probably be your nurse moving forward, but I just wanna say congratulations. You seem like you’re gonna be a great mom.”

Eyes watering, Solana can only mumble a quiet, heartfelt, “thank you.” 

Sasha doesn’t say anything else before walking out the room, leaving Solana alone for not even five minutes before there’s a knock on the door followed by an entrance.

“Mrs. Reigns?” An African-American woman with smooth brown skin, a wrinkle free complexion and pearly whites. Her smile is amenable and her disposition warm. She walks over, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sharmell. I’ll be your OB-GYN. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Solana can only reciprocate the smile and gesture, shaking the older woman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s—it’s nice to meet you too. You….you can call me Solana.”

She looks a bit taken back but nods. “Solana, it is.” Moving over to the screen, she double checks a couple things that Sasha had already asked. Asks a couple more questions, mostly regarding if there’s been any concerns regarding the pregnancy thus far. The answer is no.

Solana prays it stays that way.

“Okay, well, I see you had a pap smear at the beginning of the year, so I won’t do one of those again. The labs I ordered are standard procedure just to make sure your levels are good, and from what I can see based off your hCG levels, it does look like this is a multiples pregnancy.” Solana has no major reaction to this, as it was already hinted/told to her by Dr. Michaels. “But, let’s do an ultrasound and double check, okay?” She gives Solana a look that’s of a questioning nature, like she wants to make sure this is an okay trajectory.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she answers in a quiet voice.

However, it’s when Dr. Sharmell starts to move the machine around that Solana notices something that zaps the comfort and calmness she was experiencing up until his point. “Wait, is that—do we have to do a transvaginal ultrasound?”

Just saying it aloud makes her stomach twist in all of the wrong ways.

Dr. Sharmell nods. “Based upon the date of your last menstrual cycle, you should be right at 10 weeks, and internal ultrasounds are best practices for pregnant women still in their first trimester.” Solana’s discomfort must be written all over her face, prompting the older woman to ask, “are you okay?”

Sniffling, Solana wipes at her now tearing eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly sharing, “I was raped as a child and…..I just….things down there…..”

And this is why Solana would give anything to have Roman here with her, because she knows his presence, holding his hand, having him here reassuring her that she’s safe would help her be able to tolerate the exam.

But, he’s not here, and the thought of being penetrated, even if for medical reasons, is something that has her heart racing and anxiety spiking. 

Dr. Sharmell is nothing but sympathetic as her face morphs into something almost solemn. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She shakes her head. “I can do a pelvic one instead. It may not show everything, but it’ll show enough for now. Okay?”

Solana can only nod and close her eyes as Dr.Sharmell shifts gears, handing her a sheet to cover up her lower half. Solana then proceeds to raise up the hospital gown to expose her belly. The gel is cool, a nice, chilling sensation to help settle her nerves. But, it’s when the doctor makes a sound that she opens her eyes and shifts her focus to the screen. 

“I was right.” She shoots Solana a small, comforting smile. “Twins.” Eyes continuing to water, Solana looks in awe as Dr. Sharmell points to the screen. “This is Baby A.” Her finger travels around as does the transducer roaming her belly. “And this is Baby B.” 

So early on in her pregnancy, it’s hard to make out anything significant like arms, legs, and a head, because none of those have developed just yet. However, none of that matters, because they’re still her babies.

Her children. 

Confirmation that they’re alive, growing, and healthy.

It makes the tears spill over, the emotionality of it all overwhelming her in a sense. 

He should be here.

Roman should be here, experiencing this with her. 

But he’s not.

And all she can seem to think about is how this is wrong. 

All so wrong. 

————

It’s not a good time to be doing this.

Not in the slightest. Roman knows this, has the wherewithal to see and know that he’s not in the best place to even try to be open to something he doesn’t even want to be doing in the first place.

But, he also knows that he needs to. That he needs to do this. Whether he wants to or not. 

It’s not about him.

It’s about her.

It’s about doing what’s best for their marriage, and truthfully, if she can find it in her to do it, then so can he.

Marriage…..

Roman’s fist forms at his side as he rolls his shoulders while trying to settle the anger growing again at Rikishi’s words he has no doubt came directly from the Elders.

There’s also lingering feelings towards Jey and Solo, toward their disrespectful, borderline challenging behavior. Unacceptable on all fronts, thus he regrets nothing except maybe not reminding them both why they answer to him and call him Tribal Chief.

However, that’s minimal compared to Rikishi and his actions both today and toward Solana.  

But, while a part of him wants to believe that the son of a bitch was just trying to fuck with him with his statement about the Elders, a result of his anger and pride at being attacked, the logical part of Roman knows that’s not the case.

He knows Rikishi isn’t lying about that much.

It makes sense. Roman sensed there was some shit they were planning before Fetu had passed. Sensed that they were up to something, and this is clearly it.

It’s not going to happen though.

It’s one thing for Roman to reconsider ending his marriage to Solana for her own safety. It’s another for those prehistoric fuckers to try to tell him he needs to end his marriage to her.

Over his dead fucking body will that ever happen.

Roman will kill them all before he lets them take her from him.

Murder is obviously the last resort. Maybe. But as of right now, he hasn’t got another plan. A less violent way to handle this, but he’ll figure it out. 

He always does.

Even though the solution is rather simple, something that is very much a possibility now that their marriage has been consummated. 

Many times.

Many….many times. 

And in full transparency…..Roman had started to wonder. Her sickness. The fatigue. The vomiting. 

Started to wonder if maybe, just maybe…..

And then he pushed it away. Has pushed it away, because stress would also explain all of that as well. But beyond that, he knows that if it was that, Solana would have said something. 

And, she hasn’t, thus it’s not even worth thinking about further. 

So, until then, he’ll come up with a plan.

But, not right now. 

Now he’s got a whole other issue he’s sort of—not really—ready to tackle.

Because Roman’s already paper thin patience is waning by the second every time he glances at the clock on his phone to see another minute pass. Three. She’s three minutes late. And for some people, that would be insignificant, but not for Roman. Because every minute of the day is precious for him, spoken and accounted for with tasks to be completed.

So every minute wasted waiting on her is deducted from the total time he has in a day to get everything done, thus, he’s already got one strike against this woman before ever even meeting her.

Thankfully, a text from Solana manages to briefly pull him from his growing frustration and temptation to just leave.

Solana: You’re not getting back until late, right?

Roman: Yes. 

Roman: Why? You alright?

Solana: Yes. It’s just Bayley and Naomi are “making” me go with them to dinner tonight, but I don’t want to not be there when you get home….

Roman: Solana, go. I’ll be fine. 

Because he will. Emotionally, he still feels…..not great, but he doesn’t feel as numb and overwhelmed as he’s been the past few days. Even beyond that, his wife has been by his side this entire time, putting her own life on hold to focus and cater to him. And he’s grateful. Immensely. But, she needs to also focus on herself.

His feelings about Bayley and Naomi are still…..not the best, but he knows what they mean to Solana, and she needs this.

So, he wants her to have it.

Solana: Are you sure?

Roman: Positive

“Well, shit.” 

Roman looks up from his phone, instantly irritated because why the fuck is someone talking to him when he’s trying to text his wife?

And he’s even more annoyed at the sight of the red headed woman wearing jeans, boots, and a white short sleeved shirt that shows off the tattooed sleeve on her right arm. Bag over shoulder, cup of coffee in one hand, and keys in the other, she scoffs. “Yeah…..Gail wasn’t kidding when she said she had a challenging referral for me.” 

But, it’s when she speaks again that his scowl drops. Roman asks, “you the therapist?”

She shrugs, answering, “that’s what my clinical license says.” Turning away from him, she prompts, “come on. Sorry I’m late. People don’t know how to fucking drive.”

There’s a lot to process in this moment. The lateness. The almost unprofessional attire. The profanity. 

What in the hell did Gail sign him up for?

Nevertheless, Roman follows this woman into the office once she unlocks and opens the door. And again, another culture shock. His wife’s therapist office is the traditional cool tones, plants hanging near the window, some mental health shit on the wall and whatnot. And this….person still has that, but there’s nothing neutral and traditional about her setup. The sofa is red, a kaleidoscope of colors plastered everywhere from the rug to the pillows to even the tye-dye curtains that are pulled back with a bright green tie. And it’s the framed poster on the wall above the computer that reads, “feelings are weird and uncomfortable and shit’ that makes him chuckle.

One thing he can give her is that it’s nice to not have that…..therapy shit shoved down his throat.

Not when he’s already extremely uncomfortable with this whole thing.

“Make yourself at therapy home,” she encourages, going to hang her bag on the hook behind the now closed door. Roman sits down, still on edge but feeling less annoyed. “Name’s Lita, by the way. Not sure if Gayle mentioned it.”

“She didn’t,” he answers, watching how she walks over and plops down in her chair, grabbing her coffee off the desk where she’d placed it while getting the room set up.

“Well, it is,” she shrugs. Taking a sip, she then informs, “I’ll call you Roman.”

Instantly, the irritation is reappearing. “Did I say you could call me by my first name?”

Lita gives him a look, asking in an even voice, “do you seriously expect me to call you My Tribal Chief?” She chuckles at her almost mocking tone, mumbling before snagging another sip. “That’s not happening.”

Roman finds himself asking, both rhetorically and literally, “what the hell kind of therapist are you?”

Because while his only experience with this profession has been through Solana, through Gail and even Stratus, the differences are stark. These women are day compared to Lita’s night.

“The kind who works with people. Not titles.” Reaching to place her coffee on the small table beside her, she explains. “The Tribal Chief is what you are. It’s not who you are. Who you are is Roman Reigns, and that’s who I’m interested in working with.” She gestures around her room. “In this space, you’re just a person, and something tells me that’s not a space you get to be in a lot in your life.”

He’s quiet. For a couple of reasons. The main one being that he’s having a bit of a hard time finding a point of disagreement. Her delivery is absurd, borderline disrespectful, but it’s not….it’s not entirely wrong. 

“So how’s this shit supposed to work?” He asks, allowing himself to lean back on the sofa, muscular arms crossed over one another.

Lita shrugs once more. “However you want it to work.” And before he can push back on her vague ass answer, she supplies, “my approach is I don’t make you do anything. I help you get to a point where you want to do things.”

“Like?” 

“Actually work on and process shit.”

“That’s probably not gonna happen.”

Lita chuckles, standing up and walking over to her desk. Roman watches her pull open a drawer where she grabs a notebook and pen. She then walks back over and reaches said items to him. “Here. Take these.”

Roman looks at her with disinterest but still accepts said items. “Alright, I want you to write down why you’re here right now. I’m not gonna see it, not gonna read it, not even gonna keep it. That’s for you. I just want you to be honest with yourself and preferably me, but we’ll get you there.”

Roman looks slightly confused but still understanding of what she’s asked of him. Lita grabs her coffee and falls back into the chair. “Get to writing.”

A scowl reappears. This demanding shit is gonna have to most definitely be addressed. 

Roman doesn’t get demanded.

Even though he most definitely finds himself writing shit down.

Control my anger/blackouts (around my wife—I don’t care about anyone else)

And that’s it.

“Done.”

Lita lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?”

She scoffs, “you head the two biggest criminal organizations in the world and only need less than a minute to list things you want to work on?” She shakes her head, directing,“try again.”

Roman is irritated. This smart mouth of hers is getting old. “I don’t need—”

“I said try again,” Lita says in an almost softer voice. “Remember, be honest with yourself.”

There’s something both triggering and eye-opening about that latter statement. Honesty is something Roman has always valued, but when it’s directed toward and about himself, there seems to be difficulty. 

Solana….she’s helped a lot with that, and he’d probably feel less hesitant and more forthcoming if it was her he was talking to, but as great a support system his wife is for him, he knows he can’t put it all on her.

The same way, deep down, he knows he can’t continue to bottle shit up like he’s been doing.

Roman swallows before starting to list without thinking, refusing to allow his brain to interfere with what weighs his heart down when he strips back all the thick layers of protection.

Feeling guilty about Fetu’s death

Feeling guilty about my family’s murders

Feeling guilty about surviving

Feeling guilty about Solana’s attempt

Feelings towards my mom

Feelings about fatherhood someday

Not feeling good enough for Solana

Feeling like I have to be perfect to be loved

Being codependent with Solana

Matteo

Other shit

Roman can list it, but that’s it. Talking about or even thinking about what he wrote down is just….it’s too much right now.

“Done,” he mutters, taking it upon himself to fold up said paper that he stuffs in his pocket. 

“Good.” Lita nods. Standing up once more, she moves over to a bin near the bookshelf, pulling out a red, familiar box. “Now let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Roman is disgusted all over again when she walks over, holding the biggest box of fucking Uno he’s ever seen. “Do I look like a child?”

“Technically, there’s a child in all of us,” she counters. Roman watches her pull the massive stack of cards out of the box. “Now this is actually feelings Uno.”

“Feelings Uno?” It keeps getting worse. So much worse. “What the hell is that?”

Rolling her eyes while she expertly manages to shuffle through the giant cards, Lita explains, “Red is anger. Blue is sadness. Yellow is joy. And Green is a free for all, meaning you get to decide whatever emotion you want it to be on your turn. You play a card and then talk about whatever emotion goes with the card color.” The steps are clear and to the point, but Roman is still struggling with the fact that this woman seriously wants to play a whole ass game with him. “Considering it’s only our first session, I’ll take it easy on you. You only have to answer when you play a red card.”  She smirks, equally distributing cards to the both of them. “Something tells me anger won’t be too difficult for you to talk about.”

She’s not….not entirely wrong. 

Roman asks while looking over at his colorful cards. “You stack?” Playing a game is truly preferred than talking about….feelings and shit.

“You trying to talk about several different upsetting events at once?” She asks, laughing a little when he rolls his eyes. “No. No stacking. This time.” Leaning over, she plops the first card down for their pile. “And to show you I can sometimes be one of those overly nice therapists, I’ll go first.” Roman watches her lay down a matching red card, sharing so casually, “well, I felt angry as hell when I came home from school when I was thirteen and found out my abusive, piece of shit dad had not only offed himself but took my mom and little brother with him.” 

Silence. Almost everything about this woman in the less than twenty minutes that he’s known her has been unexpected, but that has to take the cake. The casualty in her voice is a stark contest to the weight of the confession. It has him partially stumped, cause what the fuck does one say to that?

He goes with the only thing he knows and can think to say in the moment. “Why the hell would you tell me that?”

There’s a bit of a shift in her countenance. Her voice softens as she explains, “it’s important you know when we’re working together and I say that I understand life can be a shitshow, I’m not talking about fucking Starbucks messing up my order.”

He doesn’t comment on her disclosure nor her follow up comment. He just lays down his own red card, sharing, “felt angry at my mom when she told me one time that my half brother was the son she wanted, not me.”

Lita makes a sound. “Parents are just wonderful, aren’t they?”

Roman says nothing, the two of them easily falling into this space of sharing and not really elaborating. Just putting it out there, building some strange form of rapport that feels almost natural to him.

And it’s through this process that Gail’s comment regarding this whole therapy thing returns to him. “I have someone in mind who will either be a perfect fit for you or the worst referral I’ve ever provided.”

And strangely enough, Roman is leaning toward the former of those two paths.

————

Solana has always felt deeply aligned with the saying, “if it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” Always felt that perfectly described many of her life experiences. It’s something that’s waned drastically since being married to Roman but has still popped up from time to time.

And sadly, this is one of those times.

Because now not only is she sitting on a letter given to her by Roman’s late aunt that she requested only be given to him when the time was “right,” a pregnancy that now her husband’s ex fuck buddy knows about before him, but now another letter addressed to Solana.

From her mother.

A letter Solana has never seen before today when she was trying to reorganize her library/art room after Roman canceled their lunch date, citing being unable to escape meetings.

She believes him, of course. It’s just that it would have been preferred to this.

Yet one more thing for her to work through.

In all actuality, it should be easy for Solana to just open the damn letter. Read it and get it over with. But the weight of it, the amount of pages she can feel through the envelope, and the fact that it’s in a separate letter instead of a journal, has her concerned.

Solana’s mom always wrote to her in journals, so the fact that this is not in a journal…..it has her worried.

Which is why it remains untouched, laid out on the bathroom counter with Fetu’s letter along with the sonogram photo she received just earlier today. Both pulled from their respective hiding spots in her art room/home library.

Solana is trying to figure all this out while doing her makeup for dinner. A nice, necessary distraction as she spends a little extra time covering up the bruise. The darkness and hyperpigmentation have gone down tremendously, which she’s immensely grateful for. Especially given the fact that Roman hasn’t commented on it in a while. She knows he sees it, can see the slight cringe he still does at the sight,  but his guilt seems to have dwindled moderately, which is deeply appreciated.

Even if it’s because he’s battling a different type of grief now. And it’s staring at the envelope from Fetu that Solana allows herself to really think about if the right time is now. It would be so easy to just give it to him, to not have to have that weight on her shoulders. And maybe she should have done it sooner, done it during his week of depression and dissociation.

But, she was just so worried that it could somehow make things worse. That it was too soon. 

And, it still feels too soon. Solana isn’t entirely sure what the right time is…..but, it doesn’t feel like now.

Maybe….maybe in another week or so. Besides, Fetu trusted her to give Roman the letter, so the older woman must have trusted her judgment….right?

What is and has been the right time for some time now, however, is this pregnancy. Solana can’t keep hiding this from him. He deserves to know. He always deserved to know, and while her intentions were always good, that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s in the wrong.

She needs to tell him.

And, she will.

Tonight.

It still doesn’t sit right with her to spring this on him while he’s still trying to process such a massive loss. But, it’s even more not right to tell his doctor, to attend these appointments, to be ten weeks along, almost three months along and him still be in the dark.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t deserve that.

And as if on cue, her phone dings with a text from the man of the hour himself.

Roman: I love you

Such simple words that put the biggest, deepest smile on her face. She is quick to respond with reciprocation.

Solana: I love you, too. ❤️

Solana: Everything alright?

She taps her nails against the phone screen, staring at the three dots as he types.

Roman: Yeah.

Roman: Just wanted to say it.

And a sigh of awe leaves her, imagining him saying as such instead of texting it. A softness in his voice and gaze reserved only for her. 

Solana: Well, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. ☺️

Solana: I’m getting ready to head out.

Roman: Okay. Text me when you get there.

Solana: Will do.

Feeling slightly better at having some sense of direction moving forward as well as an unexpected, sweet exchange with her husband, Solana sends a text to Bayley and Naomi to let them know she’s on her way. Eyes glued to the phone, she isn’t paying much or enough attention to the fact that two items slide off the counter and onto the floor as she grabs a single envelope.

Bautista serves as her guard again, not that she has any issue with that. Solo is fine, has been fine, for the most part, since his apology at the gala, but Bautista….there’s something different about him.

Despite his intimidating, frightening presence, there’s a warmth in the older man that vastly contrasts Solo’s coldness. Not to mention his sage words regarding just who she is and the power that title gives her has truly been groundbreaking. It’s something she plans to never forget.

The drive leans on the side of shorter rather than longer, Solana walking into the restaurant, being escorted to the back where Bayley and Naomi wait. As soon as their eyes are on her, they’re standing up, each pulling her in for hugs.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Naomi whispers in her ear, followed by Bayley’s hug as she straight up asks, “Solana, what the hell has been going on?”

But, it’s only after the waitress comes, takes their orders, and she texts Roman that she’s arrived that the words start to spill out. 

A heavy sigh leaves the mouth of the Tribal Chief’s wife as she sits down in the chair, placing her purse in the other empty chair. A quick glance to the left reveals Bautista sitting at a nearby table. Not too close but close enough where he could act if something were to go down.

“I know��.I know I’ve been distant.” Distant seems like not a strong enough word, but it’s the best she’s got in this moment. “And, I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying ya’ll. That wasn’t my intention. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“Like what?” Naomi presses. “Solana, we don’t want to overstep, but the last time we’ve seen you was at training where you had a black eye. That was over two weeks ago with intermittent contact since. You’ve gotta give us something here.”

And Solana knows this. Knows that both of the women sitting across from her only mean well. From day one, they’ve been nothing but kind and supportive. Have only sought to help her as she reclaimed her voice and her life.

She owes them that much.

“I’m gonna tell you guys something, but you can’t say anything to anyone. Not a soul.” She focuses on Naomi. “Not even Jimmy.”

Bayley nods immediately. “Of course.” 

Naomi seems a bit reluctant. “I don’t like keeping things from my husband,” she admits. And Solana can’t and won’t fault her for that. “But, I can see this is important to you, so you have my word. I won’t say a thing.”

And Solana trusts it.

Trusts them.

Closing her eyes, she starts to answer, “Roman had…..he had a nightmare the night of his fight with Drew. Drew said something to him, and it messed with his head. I won’t say what. It’s not my place.” Because it isn’t. Nor is it relevant to the conversation at hand. “It was a bad nightmare, and I was trying to wake him up and when I finally did, he woke up swinging and accidentally hit me. He had no idea what he was doing, and he felt awful afterwards. He even…..he even compared himself to my dad and brother.”

The shocked expressions on their faces match the disgust Solana feels at Roman even being in the same sentence as those two men, let alone the same category.

“So yes, he did technically hit me, but it wasn’t intentional.” Solana finds herself adding, “and that’s why I got so upset, because for all that Roman is and can be, I was frustrated that you guys believed he could ever do something like that to me.”

“You’re right,” Bayley sighs, shaking her head. “I think we just saw the black eye and assumed it was because of what happened with Drew…..” She stops herself, correcting. “It was wrong though, and I’m sorry.”

“We both are,” Naomi agrees. “But, not for worrying about you.”

“Never that,” Bayley chuckles, lifting up her phone with a small smirk. “You’ve had the newbies hitting us up nonstop wondering if we’ve heard from you.”

“Girl, got us all in a group chat and everything called SOSlana.” Naomi proves this by pulling up her phone and sharing her screen where Solana can sure enough see the name of the group chat.

It makes her laugh. A much needed thing. “I know I need to catch up with them too, but ya’ll deserved to speak with me first.” Cause as amazing as Melina, Cam, and Mickie have been, Bayley and Naomi were there first.

The loyalty goes a lot deeper.

“Maybe we can reschedule the girls trip for all of us. Like in two weeks?” Bayley suggests. A glance at Naomi provides a nod of agreement. “Solana?”

Hesitation. On one hand, she’d like to say yes, but on the other, she just doesn’t know. Because something tells her when she tells Roman about the pregnancy tonight, he’s about to be a hell of a lot stricter regarding her outings. And she understands it fully. Understands why her being the pregnant wife of the Tribal Chief means a different layer of protectiveness.

“Let me run it by Roman first,” she finally answers. “He’s….he’s going through something right now, and I need to be there for him.” Not a lie. The absolute truth. 

“Yeah, Jimmy’s been acting kind of off too. I think something’s going on with the Bloodline.” She shakes her head and transitions into elaboration. “Just earlier today, I overheard him arguing with his brothers and dad.”

“Which brothers?” Bayley beats Solana to the punch by asking a very valid question.

“Jey and Solo,” Naomi answers. Solana does her best to maintain a neutral expression, but it’s hard. There’s something almost unsettling about that, though she can’t put her finger on the why. “It didn’t go well. They all ended up basically marching out the house, slamming my doors and everything.”

Curious, Solana can’t stop herself from asking, “did Jimmy tell you what the argument was about?”

A pause. A noticeable pause. “Not really. I’m sure they’ll get it together though.” As Naomi takes a sip of her champagne, Solana does her best not to look or think too deeply about the obvious deflection.

To be fair, Solana is firm about her boundaries regarding certain things discussed between herself and her husband. 

Why can’t Naomi get the same grace? 

Solana is grateful for the arrival of the food, appreciative of the diversion of topics, because Naomi is certainly right. Something is most definitely going on with the Bloodline. A major loss that’s mostly impacted Roman but Jimmy and Jey as well, most likely.

But, Solana can’t and won’t comment on that.

Providing her girls with some insight regarding a bit of what’s been going on is a nice distraction for Solana. Laughter is always good for the soul, and being around her sisters never ceases to bring about a healthy amount of that.

The merriment makes it hard for her to not imagine what their reaction will be to finding out she’s pregnant. The way they’ll absolutely gloat and squeal, especially when they learn that she’s having twins. The baby shower that they’ll plan is destined to be one for the ages. 

And she looks forward to it all. 

But first….. first she must talk to her husband. 

It’s about an hour into dinner when Solana feels her bladder screaming at her to be emptied. “I’ll be right back,” she excuses herself, taking her purse with her for good measure. Mouthing bathroom to Bautista, Solana makes her way to the back, pleased to see that the stalls are all empty. 

There’s such a weird relief at no longer having that pressured feeling, expelling her bladder like she didn’t use the bathroom shortly before leaving the house. 

Frequent urination.

It’s one of the symptoms Dr. Sharmell mentioned she might start seeing soon at this point in her pregnancy.

She wasn’t wrong. 

Flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink, Solana attempts to toss her purse on the counter only for it to go tumbling to the floor, some of the contents falling out. Cursing quietly, she washes her hands first before bending down to stuff the items back in her bag, grateful her phone wasn’t one of the tumbled objects. However, it’s something else that manages to capture her full attention. 

The envelope with her name written on the outside.

Slow hands reach for it, trembling fingers tracing over her name so beautifully signed, her mother’s penmanship something worthy of all the jealousy. But, jealousy isn’t what Solana is feeling in this moment. 

Curiosity is.

A growing feeling gnawing at her that whatever is contained within this envelope needs to be unveiled and read. Needs to be freed after so many years of confinement. And, it makes no sense how Solana went from avoiding doing such a thing to readying to do it in the public restroom at a restaurant.

She knows it’s not the best decision, that it’s bound to make her emotional, make her cry. 

And yet…..the right timing.

Roman is grieving and about to find out that he’s a father. There’s so many layered, complex emotions in that alone that she’s truly lost as to how he’s supposed to manage that and helping her sort through whatever emotions will follow the reading of this letter. It also seems unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with so much.

But Bayley and Naomi…..they could. They could be her sources of support. They’ve been wanting to be said sources, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time to take them up on that offer.

Solana releases a deep, shaky breath while rising to her feet, taking her purse off the floor with her. Walking over to the door, she turns the lock and moves back over to the counter. Leaning back against the counter, Solana takes one more efficient breath before still trembling fingers carefully pry open the letter. Solana unfolds several sheets of paper.

And she begins to read. 

My Dearest Solana,

If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer living. I wish with everything in me that is not the case, and everything will go according to plan, so that what I am about to write will be told to you from my lips instead of read from this letter.

But, I cannot be naive. I must be realistic and prepare for all outcomes.

Solana, what I am about to tell you is going to be difficult, and you may never forgive me, may even hate me, but please know I never ever intended to hurt you, my sweet girl.

I was 23 years old when I met “Xavier Miller”. He claimed to be in Mexico on sabbatical from work. Said he was a “businessman.” I believed him. I believed everything he told me. All the false hopes he put in my head about bringing me to America and helping me get into medical school so I could become a doctor. Believed him when he said once we got settled, he’d pay for my parents to get passports so that they could visit. I believed it all. He was charming and handsome and kind, and I wanted so deeply to be in love that I fell for it all. 

After three months of us knowing each other, he proposed. I said yes. My parents did not agree. They believed we were rushing things. They were right, but I was too naive. I listened to my heart and only my heart. I fell in love with this man who promised me the world, promised to always love and take care of me. 

I spoke very little English, but he promised to help me learn once we moved to the States. He was adamant about me coming to America with him, said it would open up more doors, specifically helping me achieve my dream of being a doctor. 

And, I was determined, so I married him and came to America.

The decision will forever haunt me.

Our first night as “husband” and “wife” was the first time he raped and beat me. I woke up the next morning bruised and bloody. It was only then I saw the real him for the first time. He told me I would never see my family again, and if I ever tried to contact them or leave him, he would kill me. That same morning is when he informed me of who he really was.

A mafia man.

And right then and there, I knew my life was over.

I will not further traumatize you with details. But, it was...horrific. 

I thought once I gave him a son, which is what he eventually told me he what wanted from the very beginning—a “stupid woman” he could “control” and “breed”--- that he would lessen his cruelty. And, he did, to some extent. 

He allowed me to start volunteering at the hospital, which was truly only because he wanted me away from Wes. He said I would make him “soft.” The same hurtful thing he says about you. 

But, this ended up changing my life, because it was through volunteering that I met someone. His name was Darnell, and he was a medical student doing clinical rotations. Again, I do not wish to sully you with the details, so I will just say it.

I started an affair with Darnell, and I regret nothing, Solana. He was the first man I ever really loved who showed me what it meant to truly be loved by a man. It was dangerous for both of us, and I tried to break it off, tried to tell him what could happen if we were ever caught, but he didn’t care. He wanted to help me find a way out, because he loved me, and I loved him.

But then everything changed when I found out I was pregnant. Initially, I was distraught. Xavier was still raping me, trying to get me pregnant, and the thought of having his child again sickened me.

But, when I went to my appointment and learned how far along I was, I realized that the time I conceived was when Xavier was away on a business trip.

He wasn’t the father.

Darnell was.

And, I was so happy, so overjoyed, my love. You have no idea. 

Throughout the pregnancy, Darnell and I tried to come up with plans. Tried to figure out a way we could escape. Me, Him, Wes, and our babies.

I was pregnant with twins.

But, the closer the time came, the more fearful I became that even if we somehow escaped, Xavier would find us and kill us all. He always threatened to kill me if I tried to take Wes from him. 

So the plan changed to one that broke my heart and Darnell’s, but we agreed it was the safest thing for us to do. We were able to have some of the hospital staff assist us with this plan, which made a world of difference.

It truly did.

When I gave birth to you, I gave birth to your twin brother as well. A brother who Darnell took, while I kept you. And, I told Xavier, who did not come to the hospital until the next day, that my boy didn’t make it. 

He was livid. So angry that he forced the hospital to give me a hysterectomy.

He said I would not “fail” him again.

The plan was for me to wait until you were older, at least one, and then we would try to make the move, but what I didn’t expect was for Xavier’s cruelty towards me to increase. He became significantly worse to the point where it was impossible for me to do anything without him knowing. He refused to allow me to volunteer at the hospital, which cut me off from all the people who were going to help me reunite with Darnell and my other child.

And instead made my life even more of a living hell, but now he was subjecting you to the same treatment.

He always blamed you for the “death” of your brother. That’s why he’s always hated and resented you. Because you “lived” and the boy “did not.” He never wanted daughters. Only sons. 

Solana, I know this is a lot. I know that I am putting so much on you, and I am so sorry, my love. There is just so much you need and deserve to know, and I just have to make sure you know one way or another.

It was selfish of me to keep you. I should have let Darnell take the both of you, but I always wanted a daughter. Wanted to have a piece of him with me as well. But, my selfishness subjected you to all kinds of horror, and I’m so so sorry, mija. 

But, Darnell is your father. And, you have a twin brother. And if all goes to plan tomorrow, you, me, Wes, your real father and your other brother will finally be able to be a family. You’ll have the family you always deserved but I deprived you from.

And words cannot express how sorry I am, my sweet Sol. Because the fact of the matter is that I was being selfish. It was selfish and wrong of me to not let you go with your father, to keep you in an abusive household with an abusive man.

It was wrong, and I am sorry.

But…

In the event something goes wrong, I just needed you to know the truth. Because if something happens to me, I need to make sure you at least know where you really come from.

And that’s not Nina Miller and Xavier Miller. 

It’s Darnell Adams and Alma Escobar.

My name is not Nina.

It’s Alma.

Alma Escobar. 

Xavier made me change my identity when I came here to avoid my family finding me. And, it worked, because Xavier also lied about his name when we first met. He made it up. It was all a part of his plan to get me in America and make me his slave. 

It’s why my family was probably never able to find me. They were looking up one name that never existed and another name that would never exist again.

But, that brings me to my next part. 

My mother’s name is Paloma Escobar, and my father’s name is Ricardo Escobar. I have two uncles: Bernardo and Tomas.

If I have the chance and this plan works, I will finally take you and your brothers to Isla Mujeres to meet your family. You deserve that much and so much more. 

Again, this is so so much to drop on you, mija, but I don’t have much time. 

Solana, that is why I have always called you “my Sol.” Because phonetically, Sol sounds like “soul,” which is what my real name really means. YOU are my soul and an extension of myself, just infinitely better.

Never forget, my amazing girl, that you are smart and beautiful and kind and have such a pure soul. You must never forget any of that.

And one day, you are going to grow into a beautiful young woman, find a kind young man who loves and treats you the way you deserve, and you will be an amazing mother. 

And that, my love, will be your happy ending.

I pray to God that I will live to see all of this, be around for all of it, but if I am not, know that I loved you infinitely in this life and will continue to love you infinitely in the next.

Forever your Hummingbird,

Alma 

Breathing.

A simple, easy thing that’s suddenly impossible for Solana. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t compute any of what she’s just read. Only one sentence of so many shell-shocking revelations circulates in her head, thudding against her consciousness.

Xavier wasn’t her father.

He wasn’t her father. 

There’s so many things embedded and included in this confession of sorts, but that’s the one thing Solana can’t seem to pull away from.

The man who was responsible for the murder of her mother and her attempted murder was not her real father.

The man who was responsible for her rape was not her real father.

The man who almost beat her to death and threatened to finish the job was not her real father. 

The man who she so desperately wanted to love her like fathers should love daughters but never could. And not just because he was incapable of love. No. It was because he wasn’t her real father.

Solana almost stumbles to the ground, one hand going behind her to hold onto the counter to keep her upright.

This….this was a mistake.

She should have never read this letter.  

Ever.

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, she releases the papers and places a hand over her chest, closing her eyes, and working to regulate herself. She manages to pull from the coping skills learned in therapy as she tries to find some anchor of sorts to keep her grounded instead of drowning in the panic that threatens to overtake her.

Too much.

It’s just too much to process.

Too much to sit on. 

She just can’t.

Solana is sniffling, silent tears running down her face as she places her other free hand on her belly. She can’t fall apart. Not right now. Not like this. And not with the babies growing in her belly. 

They need her to pull it together. To be strong. 

Needing a reminder of sorts, she digs through her purse with wobbly hands for the photo that depicts the two tiny lives growing inside of her. 

There’s only one problem. 

The sonogram photo isn’t in her purse.

Solana’s glossy eyes scan the floor to see if she somehow missed it, only for that to come back a deadend given the emptiness of the pristine tile. 

Solana frantically digs through her purse once more realizing the photo isn’t the only thing missing.

So is Fetu’s letter.

And now yet another massive weight is dropped onto her chest with the terrifying realization of what she’s done.

“Oh no….” Trembling hands fold back up the sheets and stuff them back into the envelope that she shoves in her bag. Solana’s legs can’t move fast enough as she unlocks and rips the door open, making her way over to that table where Bayley and Naomi are laughing. 

It’s when their gaze lands on her, however, that the laughter dies down. “Solana, what’s—”

“I have to go,” she interrupts, unable and partially uninterested in offering the truth as to why. Because she can’t. She can barely fucking think straight right now, let alone try to explain the magnitude of what just happened.

What could happen if she doesn’t get home. 

Fast.

Bayley is the one to push. “Wait, Solana, you can’t just—”

“Please,” she begs, eyes watering. “It’s….it’s Roman. I have to get home.” Not a lie, just an answer that probably insinuates a severity that does not equate to the actuality of the situation. Or, maybe it does. “I’ll….I’ll explain later, but I have to go now.” 

Naomi and Bayley share a look, clearly not liking this sudden shift in energy, and Solana can’t blame them. However, she can’t focus on that right now. Not when her world has just been turned upside down.

“Okay,” Naomi concedes with a sigh, “but at least text us when you get home.”

“I will.” That much Solana can promise. Hopefully. “Thank you.” Both women only answer with a nod as Solana gestures to Bautista. “Come on.”

Wordlessly, he gets up and leads her out of the restaurant. 

Solana is a nervous wreck the entire drive home. Knee bouncing, heart racing, intermittent tears. This is not how she expected this day to go. It’s almost too unbelievable to be true.

There’s too many things for her to sit on and sift through. Her pregnancy. Fetu dying. Her mother’s letter. Now this?

Solana wipes at her eyes. It’s just all too much. And the fact that trying to call Roman only led to the phone ringing two times before going straight to voicemail only makes things infinitely worse.

Roman has never sent her to voicemail before. 

The drive to the mansion is really only a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels so much longer. Torturously longer.

The SUV is barely in park before she’s whipping the door open and running towards the house, heels in one hand because she can’t have any sort of interference. 

“Roman!” She calls out his name the minute she steps foot inside of their home only to be met with silence.

And for that brief second, there’s relief. A respite from all the heaviness as she rushes up the stairs, ready to grab the letter and photo off the bathroom counter to hide them again before he gets home.

Before he finds out the two major secrets she’s been sitting on without her being able to tell him herself.

But, that’s a short lived fantasy, one that’s killed the moment she’s standing in the doorway of their master bedroom.

“No….”

Solana drops her shoes at the sight of her husband sitting on the side of their bed, facing the door, papers in hand, a now opened envelope beside him along with a photo.

The sonogram.

Her heart breaks.

“Roman, I—”

“Solana.” 

Never.

 Never has she heard her name leave his mouth with such anger and disgust. The same anger and disgust that’s written all over his handsome face as he asks, point, blank, period, “what the hell is going on?”

[shoutsindwarvish]

you ever be really vulnerable with someone and it feels good and cathartic in the moment but then the next few days it sinks in and even though you feel 99.9% sure nothing bad is going to happen from it your stomach lurches when you think about it?

it’s reminding me of the time i went to the top floor of a skyscraper and went onto a viewing platform with a glass floor. the odds i’m going to fall and die are extremely low but holy shit is it high up here

[pucksandpower]

The Art of Surrender

Day 19 → Spreader Bar 💋 Toto Wolff

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Toto walks into the room, his footsteps heavy, as though the weight of the day still hangs on him. The door closes with a soft click, and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. He takes in the sight of you, sitting at the edge of the bed, back hunched, hands fidgeting in your lap.

Something’s off. He notices it immediately, but he doesn’t rush in. You’ve been together long enough that he knows — whatever it is, you’ll tell him.

He loosens his tie, eyes not leaving you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice is deep, steady, almost casual, but you can hear the faint undercurrent of concern. He moves closer, and his presence fills the room.

You swallow hard, fingers still twisting. How do you even start? The air feels thick with what you haven’t said yet, what you can barely admit to yourself. Your heart pounds in your chest, loud enough you think he might hear it.

“Toto …” your voice comes out softer than you expected, almost wavering. You hate the way it sounds. Weak. Uncertain. That’s not you, but right now, sitting there, it’s all you can muster.

He stops, eyes narrowing just slightly, sensing the shift in the air. “What is it?” He sits down beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch, but he doesn’t reach for you. Not yet.

You breathe in. And out. Trying to gather the words in your mind before they slip through your fingers. But no matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it, nothing comes out the way you planned.

“I’m not … I’m not re-signing.” Your words are a whisper at first, as if that might lessen the impact, make it easier. But it doesn’t. If anything, it hangs in the air between you both, heavy, unmovable. “After the season. I’m not staying.”

Silence. It’s suffocating.

Toto’s face doesn’t change immediately. He just stares at you, and you can’t tell what’s going through his mind. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even breathe for a second, as though he's waiting for you to say more, to explain yourself, to take it back.

But you don't.

“You’re leaving Mercedes,” he finally says, voice low, as if testing the weight of those words.

“Yes.” You glance at him, eyes searching his face, trying to find something, anything. Anger? Disappointment? Hurt? But he’s unreadable, his expression as calm as ever. That, more than anything, makes you anxious. He’s too calm. “I’m going to McLaren.”

Toto’s silence is unbearable. You watch him, every second stretching longer, his gaze sharp and unflinching. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move. The tension between you both is suffocating, and you can feel your palms sweating.

“Toto, say something,” you murmur, the plea almost involuntary. You hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you need him to speak, to give you something.

He stands abruptly, the motion fluid, decisive, the way he moves when he’s in control — because he always is. Even now, when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control, he manages to make it seem effortless. He turns his back to you, his broad frame casting a shadow across the room.

His voice, when it comes, is colder than you expected. “McLaren.” It’s not a question.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’ve thought about it for a while.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Have you?” He paces to the other side of the room, hands coming to rest on his hips as he stares at the far wall. His back is still to you, and you hate it, hate that you can’t see his face, can’t read what he’s feeling.

“I know this is hard,” you say softly, your hands now gripping the edge of the bed, knuckles white. “But-”

He whirls around suddenly, cutting you off. His eyes, once calm, now blaze with something you’ve rarely seen directed at you. “You’ve thought about it for a while,” he repeats, voice dangerously quiet. “But you didn’t think to talk to me before deciding.”

Your heart sinks. You knew this would come. You knew he'd be upset. But the way his voice cuts through you, cold and controlled, is worse than you imagined.

“I didn’t-” You stop, collecting yourself. “I didn’t want to complicate things. I wanted to make the right decision for myself first, before … before talking to you.”

Toto stares at you, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of something — hurt, maybe — flash across his face. But it’s gone before you can grasp it, replaced by that familiar, impenetrable wall he puts up when things get too close.

“McLaren,” he says again, and this time his voice is laced with disdain. “You think you’ll have more success there?”

“I think I’ll have a fresh start,” you reply, forcing the words out, even though you know they’ll sting. “I need something different. It’s not about you.”

Toto steps forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His presence looms over you as he stands in front of you, his expression fierce but restrained. “It’s not about me? You think I don’t know that?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but it carries the full weight of his emotions. “It’s about you and your career. I’ve always known that. I’ve always supported that.”

Your eyes drop to the floor. “I know you have.”

“Then why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

His question slices through you, and you feel the weight of it. There’s no easy answer. You didn’t tell him because you knew this moment would be like this — tense, emotional, difficult. You didn’t want to see the look on his face, the one he’s wearing right now.

“I didn’t know how,” you admit, voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ve already done that.” His words are sharp, but not cruel. They’re just true, and that truth hangs between you both, impossible to ignore.

There’s another silence, heavier than the last, and you feel the gravity of what you’ve just done sinking deeper. It’s not just about leaving Mercedes. It’s about leaving him, in a way. The life you’ve built together, the team you’ve been a part of for so long — it’s all intertwined with him. And now you’re walking away from it.

Toto’s eyes are fixed on you, unwavering, and it’s like he’s waiting for you to change your mind, to take it all back. But you don’t.

“McLaren,” he says one more time, almost like he’s tasting the word, testing how it feels in his mouth. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and walks toward the closet, his stride purposeful, every step filled with determination.

You watch him go, your chest tight, heart pounding in your throat. You want to call out to him, to say something, anything, but you can’t find the words.

He disappears into the closet, and the sound of the door shutting behind him feels final.

The room is silent. The weight of everything hangs heavy in the air, and you sit there, frozen, your heart aching with the realization of what you’ve just done.

You’ve made your decision.

But the consequences … you didn’t anticipate them feeling like this.

***

You hear the sound of hangers clattering softly, shifting against the rail in the closet. It’s the only noise breaking the silence in the room, and it feels unnerving, foreign, like you’re waiting for something you don’t understand.

You shift on the bed, unable to sit still, your hands wringing in your lap. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out what to do, what to say next. You expect him to come out any second, to say something, to confront you again with the same unflinching gaze and words that cut deep. But he doesn’t.

The minutes drag on, and the sound from the closet doesn’t stop. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s happening in there, that he’s not just getting space to breathe.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the rustling quiets. The closet door creaks open, and Toto steps out.

But he’s not empty-handed.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see what he’s holding. A long, silver spreader bar, polished, gleaming in the dim light of the room. At either end, sleek leather anklets dangle, waiting. You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right. This isn’t something you’ve ever seen before. You didn’t even know he owned anything like this.

Toto stands there, still and calm, his expression unreadable as he holds the bar in front of him. His eyes lock onto yours, and for a second, you’re speechless.

“What … what is that?” Your voice is shaky, unsure.

He tilts his head slightly, studying your reaction, not in any rush to answer. Finally, after a pause, he says, “A spreader bar.” His tone is measured, cool. “I think you know what it’s for.”

Your heart skips a beat. You do, of course. You’ve heard of them, but you’ve never actually been in a situation where one has made an appearance. Certainly not here, not with him. The weight of the moment suddenly shifts, turning from tense confrontation into something else entirely.

“What are you doing, Toto?” You ask, though you aren’t sure you want to know the answer.

He steps closer, slow, deliberate. His presence, as always, dominates the room, but now it feels different. The air crackles with an intensity you haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. His eyes never leave yours, dark, calculating, as though he’s waiting for you to react.

"You’re making decisions about your future,” he says, voice low, controlled. “I think it’s only fair I remind you who’s in control right now.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, but it’s not fear. No, it’s something else entirely. Something deeper, more visceral. You can’t look away from him, even though part of you wonders if you should. The other part — well, the other part is curious, intrigued by the shift in him.

He holds the spreader bar out slightly, as if testing its weight in his hand. “I don’t like being blindsided,” he continues, his voice firm, unwavering. “Especially not by you.”

“Toto,” you begin, but he cuts you off with a look, his eyes sharp, focused. You fall silent.

“I understand why you’ve made your choice,” he says, his tone still low, almost too calm. “But now, you’re going to listen to me.”

He steps even closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body as he towers over you. The spreader bar is still in his hand, its presence as dominant as his. “I’ve let you make decisions for yourself, always supported you. But right now, right here, I’m the one in control.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat is tight, your mind spinning as you try to wrap your head around the shift in the atmosphere. There’s a palpable tension between you, something electric and undeniable.

“Stand up,” he commands, voice smooth but firm. It’s not a request. It’s an order.

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes flicking between him and the spreader bar. But something in his gaze pulls you in, and before you know it, you’re rising to your feet, your legs a little shaky. Your pulse races, and the room feels suddenly smaller, like you’re being enveloped by his presence.

Toto watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly, approving of your obedience without needing to say a word. He steps behind you, his hand brushing against your back as he positions you in front of the bed. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you suppress a gasp.

“Sit,” he says quietly, and you do, lowering yourself back onto the edge of the bed.

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, he kneels in front of you, taking one of your ankles in his hand. The touch is gentle, but there’s a deliberate intensity to it that makes your breath hitch. You watch, transfixed, as he wraps the leather anklet around your ankle, buckling it with precise care.

“Toto,” you start again, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He looks up at you, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “I’m reminding you that there are parts of your life where you don’t get to call the shots.”

The second anklet is secured with the same care, and you feel the cool metal of the bar press against your calves as he connects your ankles to it. You’re hyper-aware of every sensation, every breath, the way the leather hugs your skin and the weight of the spreader bar keeping your legs apart. The vulnerability of it hits you hard, but instead of fear, you feel something else — anticipation.

Toto stands, his hand grazing your leg briefly as he rises. He’s looking down at you now, his expression calm, calculated. The spreader bar forces your legs apart, your position laid bare for him, but he makes no move to touch you yet. Instead, he watches you, as though waiting for your reaction.

“You think leaving Mercedes is what you need,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “But right now, I’m going to show you what it means to surrender.”

Your pulse quickens. You don’t know if you can even respond, your throat dry, your mind spinning from the gravity of his words, the gravity of the situation. There’s something intoxicating about the way he speaks, the way he commands the space, the way he commands you. And in this moment, you realize just how much power he holds — not just over you, but over everything in this room.

He steps closer again, this time standing between your legs, looking down at you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “Do you understand?”

You nod slowly, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Words,” he says, his tone softer but firm. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes,” you whisper, the word barely audible, but it’s enough.

He reaches down, his hand tracing a line up your leg, slow, deliberate, until it reaches your thigh. His touch is light but charged with intent. You can feel the tension building in the room, in your body, like a storm about to break.

“You’ve made your decision about your career,” he says, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that makes your body ache with anticipation. “But when you’re with me, I make the decisions.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you feel your body responding in ways you can’t control, heat pooling low in your belly. The spreader bar keeps your legs apart, keeps you vulnerable, and yet there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you feel safe, even as you surrender to the moment.

Toto’s hand moves higher, his touch still teasing, deliberate, until his fingers reach the waistband of your pants. He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, time seems to freeze.

“You trust me?” He asks, his voice low, commanding but with a note of something softer underneath.

You swallow hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There’s no question in your mind, despite the tension, despite the intensity of the moment.

“Yes,” you breathe, and the word feels like a release.

He doesn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, he pulls your pants down, the cool air of the room hitting your skin, sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you. You’re exposed now, completely at his mercy, and the reality of your position sinks in fully. But instead of fear, you feel something else — something deeper, more profound.

Toto stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes dark with desire, but still, he’s in control. He’s always in control. The power in that moment shifts entirely to him, and you can feel it in every fiber of your being.

Then he moves with that same deliberate calm, never breaking eye contact with you. Every inch of the room feels like it’s bending around him, like he’s the axis everything revolves around. He’s in control, yes, but it’s more than that — it’s like he’s waiting, testing, gauging just how far you’ll let him push.

Without a word, he steps over to the nightstand. His fingers brush the drawer handle, and you hear the faint creak as it slides open. You don’t try to see what he’s reaching for; your eyes are fixed on him, the tension between you two coiled so tightly it feels like a single wrong move could snap it.

Toto’s hand disappears inside the drawer, and for a moment, you don’t breathe. The anticipation is maddening, the silence louder than any words could be. When he pulls his hand back out, it’s quick, fluid, and whatever he’s holding is concealed behind his back.

Your heart races. “Toto … what is that?”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable — a hint of amusement, maybe? Or maybe it’s something darker. He steps closer to you again, still holding the object out of sight. He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he comes to stand in front of you, towering over you, the spreader bar still keeping your legs apart, your body open and vulnerable.

“You trust me,” he says, and it’s not a question this time. It’s a statement, one that feels heavier than before, laden with more meaning now that you’re here, like this, with him. You nod, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I asked you a question earlier,” he says slowly, his voice soft but firm. “About whether you understand what control really looks like.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I-I do.”

“Do you?” He raises an eyebrow, and there’s that faint smirk on his lips again, the one that makes you feel like he knows something you don’t. “Because I don’t think you fully understand yet.”

You blink, heart pounding in your chest, the anticipation stretching out. “Toto, what are you-”

He cuts you off with a look. “I told you before. You’ve made decisions for yourself, and I respect that.” His voice is even, but there’s an underlying intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “But tonight, right now, I’m the one who makes the decisions.”

And then, with that same deliberate slowness, he brings his hand around from behind his back.

Your breath catches in your throat as you see what he’s holding.

A vibrator.

A small, sleek one, the kind that looks deceptively simple but holds a power that’s anything but. Your stomach twists, and suddenly, everything feels too much — the spreader bar, your body’s position, the intimacy of the moment, the look on his face. The realization hits you in waves: he’s not here to just talk. He’s going to push you further than he ever has before.

“Toto …” Your voice is shaky, filled with a mixture of anticipation, uncertainty, and something you can’t quite name. “I-”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. He steps even closer, his hand moving to gently tilt your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. There’s something intense, almost possessive, in the way he’s watching you.

“You’re going to learn,” he says softly, “what it means to truly let go.”

His words send a ripple through you, your pulse quickening as he kneels in front of you again, his large frame making you feel even more exposed. The cool air of the room brushes against your bare skin, the sensation heightened by the tension thrumming between you both.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he presses the vibrator to your inner thigh, not turning it on yet, just letting the cool metal make contact with your heated skin. You tense, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“Toto … this is too much,” you whisper, though part of you isn’t sure if you mean it. It’s overwhelming, the sensations, the anticipation, the way he’s looking at you with that unyielding gaze. But there’s another part of you that wants to see where this goes, that trusts him to take you wherever he’s planning to go.

“Too much?” He repeats, his tone light but edged with amusement. “Or exactly what you need?”

You don’t have an answer for that. Not really. All you can feel is the pressure of the spreader bar keeping your legs apart, the way his hands are gentle but unrelenting as they move along your thighs. You’re acutely aware of every inch of your skin, every nerve ending sparking with electricity.

Before you can say anything more, he presses the vibrator between your legs. The first touch of it is soft, barely a whisper of sensation, but it’s enough to make you tense, a sharp breath escaping your lips. He doesn’t turn it on yet. He just holds it there, watching your reaction, waiting.

“Toto, please …” You don’t even know what you’re asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You can’t decide. It’s too much, but also not enough.

He tilts his head, considering you for a moment, his thumb hovering over the button. “You always try to control everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, steady. “But you don’t need to. Not here. Not with me.”

And then, without warning, he flicks the vibrator on.

The sudden vibration against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, your back arching involuntarily. Your legs strain against the spreader bar, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to close them, no way to ease the intensity. You’re trapped in the sensation, every nerve alight, your mind spinning.

“Toto!” You cry out, your hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying to anchor yourself as the sensation overwhelms you.

But he doesn’t stop. He holds the vibrator against you, watching, his expression calm, composed, like he’s completely in control of everything happening to you. His free hand moves to your thigh, squeezing gently, grounding you in the moment even as your body fights to keep up with the onslaught of pleasure.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice like a low hum in the background of your own ragged breathing. “I know it’s a lot. But you can take it.”

Your mind is reeling, your body caught in a loop of sensation. You try to pull your hands away from the bed, to reach for him, to find something to hold on to, but he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“No,” he says, his voice firm. “You stay right where you are.”

You groan, half in frustration, half in surrender. The vibrator pulses against you, relentless, driving you closer to the edge. You want to close your legs, to escape the intensity, but the spreader bar keeps you open, exposed, vulnerable.

“Toto … I can’t …”

“Yes, you can,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your thigh again, reassuring. “You’re strong. You can take it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip, trying to focus, but it’s impossible. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, your body reacting in ways you can’t control. Every time the vibration shifts, it sends another jolt of electricity through you, and you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something immense, something you’re not ready for.

Toto watches you closely, his eyes dark, focused, his thumb brushing idly against your skin as he holds the vibrator steady. He’s so calm, so collected, while you’re falling apart in front of him.

“I want you to let go,” he says quietly, his voice gentle but commanding. “Stop trying to fight it.”

You can’t even respond. You’re too lost in the sensation, your body trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Your muscles tense, your back arching as you try to brace yourself for what’s coming, but there’s no way to prepare. You’re already too far gone.

And then, with a sudden shift, the vibrations change, intensifying. It’s enough to send you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out, your hands gripping the bed so tightly your knuckles turn white. The world narrows to this one moment, this one sensation, everything else fading away.

Toto doesn’t stop. He holds the vibrator against you, drawing out every last bit of your climax, pushing you further, making sure you feel every second of it. You’re shaking, trembling, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you’re completely spent.

When he finally pulls the vibrator away, your body sags in relief, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, your muscles weak, your mind still spinning from the force of it all.

Toto straightens, his eyes still on you, watching as you come down from the high. He’s quiet for a moment, letting you catch your breath, his expression softening just slightly.

“You see?” He says quietly, stepping closer to you again, his hand brushing your hair back from your face. “You don’t need to be in control all the time.”

You close your eyes, still trying to process everything that’s just happened. But you barely have time to catch your breath before his hand comes down on you.

Not gently, but not cruelly, either — just hard enough to make your body jolt, your mind snap back to the present moment. The sharp sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the room, cutting through the thick silence, and you gasp, your body still sensitive from everything he’s already put you through.

His hand lingers for a moment, warm, steady, grounding. But then it lifts again, and there’s no time to prepare before it comes down a second time. The impact isn’t painful, not really, but it’s enough to make you bite your lip, your legs straining against the spreader bar as your body reacts, twitching involuntarily under his touch.

“Still too much?” He asks, his voice calm, measured, as if this is just another conversation, nothing out of the ordinary.

You want to say yes, to tell him it’s too much, to beg him to stop. But you don’t. The words die in your throat, tangled up with the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. It’s overwhelming, yes, but it’s also something else — something deeper, more complicated, something that’s making you want to see just how far you can be pushed.

Instead of answering, you bite your lip and bury your face into the bed, trying to steady your breathing.

Toto’s hand comes down again, this time on the bundle of nerves between your legs, and the sharpness of the sensation sends a shockwave through your body. You let out a soft cry, the sound muffled by the bedspread. The slap wasn’t hard, but your sensitivity makes everything feel amplified, and it’s like you’re teetering on the edge again, your body primed and ready despite your exhaustion.

“Toto-” you gasp, the words half-formed, more a sound than a plea. But he doesn’t answer. His hand comes down again, another firm slap, and your legs twitch helplessly, the spreader bar keeping you in place, keeping you exposed.

You don’t know how long it lasts — seconds, minutes, maybe longer. His hand moves methodically, alternating between soft touches and sharp slaps, keeping you in a state of tension, always anticipating the next move but never quite knowing when it will come. Every strike, every caress, pulls you further under, your mind a haze of sensation, too overwhelmed to process anything beyond the immediate moment.

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. The room goes silent again, save for your ragged breathing. You’re trembling, your muscles taut, your body flushed and aching, but there’s a strange calmness in the aftermath, a sense of weightlessness that settles over you.

You feel him shift, his hand moving away, and you think maybe it’s over. Maybe he’s done.

But then, you hear a faint click.

Your eyes snap open, and you look up just in time to see Toto holding something small and silver in his hand. It’s a butterfly clamp — delicate, intricate, the kind designed for maximum stimulation in the most intimate places. The sight of it makes your heart skip a beat, a wave of anticipation rolling through you.

“Toto, wait-”

But he’s already moving, his hands deft and practiced as he positions the clamp with precision. The cool metal of it brushes against you, and before you can protest, you feel the bite of it closing around that same sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation is sharp, electric, and you let out a soft, involuntary moan, your legs straining against the spreader bar again.

“There,” Toto murmurs, his voice low, almost soothing. “That should keep you focused.”

You’re panting now, your body shaking with the intensity of the clamp’s grip. It’s not painful, exactly, but it’s tight, the pressure constant, unrelenting. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as you try to process the overwhelming sensation, your mind scrambling for some semblance of control.

But he’s not done.

Toto reaches for something on the nightstand again, and this time, when he pulls his hand back, he’s holding a small remote. You realize what it is just a second too late. The butterfly clamp is wired — it vibrates. And when Toto presses the button on the remote, the clamp comes to life with a low, insistent hum.

The first burst of vibration hits you like a shockwave, your body jerking against the bed, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. The sensation is too much, too intense, and you can feel your mind slipping, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. It’s like every nerve in your body is lit up, your muscles tensing, your legs shaking.

“Toto, please …” you manage to gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of the vibrating clamp. “It’s too much …”

But he doesn’t turn it off. Instead, he watches you, his eyes dark, focused, as if he’s studying your every reaction. He tilts his head slightly, considering, and then without a word, he turns the intensity up higher.

The vibrations increase, the sensation growing stronger, more insistent, and you feel yourself falling apart, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. You try to close your legs, to ease the intensity, but the spreader bar keeps you open, keeps you exposed, and there’s no escape from the relentless stimulation.

“Toto!” You cry out, your voice breaking, your hands gripping the bed so tightly your knuckles turn white. “I can’t … I can’t …”

But he doesn’t answer. He just watches, calm, composed, in complete control.

The vibrations pulse through you, unrelenting, and your body responds with an intensity that scares you. You’re on the edge again, teetering, the sensation too much, too overwhelming, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on.

And then, just when you think you might break, just when the sensation becomes unbearable, Toto steps back.

Your heart races as you watch him move toward the door. He’s still holding the remote, his thumb hovering over the button, but he doesn’t turn the vibrations off. He leaves them on, the clamp still buzzing against you, the sensation still coursing through your body.

“Toto …” you gasp, your voice shaky, desperate. “Please …”

He stops at the doorway, turning to look at you one last time. His expression is unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on you, taking in the sight of you trembling, helpless, completely at his mercy.

“You’ll stay like this,” he says quietly, his voice calm, almost detached. “Until I decide to come back.”

Your heart drops, panic rising in your chest as the reality of his words sinks in. He’s leaving you like this. Bound, exposed, vibrating, with no way to stop it.

“Toto, no, please …” you beg, your voice trembling, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even hesitate.

He turns and walks out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

The moment he’s gone, the room feels ten times quieter, the buzzing clamp the only sound cutting through the oppressive silence. The vibrations haven’t stopped, and your body hasn’t had a moment to recover from everything that’s already happened. Your muscles are still trembling, your body still tense, and the clamp’s relentless pulsing is driving you toward the edge, again and again, without mercy.

You try to focus, to steady your breathing, but it’s impossible. Every second that passes, every pulse of the clamp, makes it harder to think, harder to hold on to any semblance of control. Your mind is slipping, consumed by the constant stimulation, and you don’t know how much longer you can take it.

Your hands grip the bed, your legs straining against the spreader bar, but there’s no escape. The pleasure is overwhelming, building, spiraling out of control, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, again and again, but never quite falling.

“Toto …” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you. “Please …”

But he’s gone.

***

Time has become a blur.

You have no idea how long it’s been — minutes, hours, an eternity — since Toto left the room, since the vibrations started, since the last coherent thought slipped from your mind. Your body is trembling, every muscle tensed and weak at the same time, caught in a relentless loop of overstimulation. Every pulse from the clamp is a fresh wave of sensation, building and breaking in rapid succession, leaving no room for breath, no time for your body to come down from the edge.

All you know is this: your legs, still spread open, still bound, the wetness pooling beneath you, soaking the sheets from the uncontrollable release that came over and over, without mercy. You’ve long since stopped trying to fight it. There’s nothing left to fight.

Toto is gone, but his presence lingers in every pulse of the vibrator, in every sharp intake of breath, in every broken sound that escapes your lips. You don’t remember why he left. You barely remember why you’re here, in this position, on this bed. Your body is the only thing that makes sense, the only thing you can focus on.

And it’s too much.

It’s all too much.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, clutching them with what little strength you have left. Your mind is fogged with pleasure, with exhaustion, with need. The clamp’s grip is unyielding, and the sensation has reached a point beyond control. You’re not even sure how many times you’ve come — whether it was once or a hundred times — whether the pleasure has blurred into pain or if it’s all the same now.

You bite down on your lip, trying to ground yourself, to find something solid in the overwhelming chaos. Your breath is ragged, coming in shallow gasps, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably. You feel like you’re drowning in it, like you’ve been caught in a storm of sensation with no way out.

You close your eyes, and in the darkness behind your eyelids, you try to focus on something — anything — to break through the haze. Your name. Your purpose. Your decision to leave Mercedes and sign with McLaren. But even that feels distant, insignificant, swallowed by the intensity of what’s happening to your body. The only thing that matters is the constant, endless rhythm of the clamp’s vibrations and the way it’s pushing you beyond your limits.

You don’t even hear the door open.

But suddenly, the vibrations stop.

Just like that, the clamp goes silent, and the absence of sensation is almost as jarring as its presence. Your body collapses in on itself, trembling and weak, every muscle in your legs and abdomen quivering from the relentless tension. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, the quiet almost deafening after the endless hum of the vibrator.

Your eyes flutter open, and you see him standing in the doorway, tall and composed, his expression unreadable. Toto’s gaze sweeps over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin, the way your body is still shaking in the aftermath, the dampness on the sheets beneath you.

He says nothing at first. He just watches, his eyes dark, intense, like he’s measuring every inch of your reaction, every subtle movement of your body.

“Toto …” your voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. You don’t know what you want to say. You don’t know what you can say.

But his name hangs in the air between you, heavy with meaning.

He steps forward, his presence commanding, and as he approaches, you feel a fresh wave of anticipation roll through you, despite the exhaustion that’s pulling at your limbs.

He reaches the bed, his hand moving to your ankle, fingers brushing over the cuff of the spreader bar. His touch is warm, familiar, and yet it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says quietly, his voice low and measured. “But you’ve handled it well.”

There’s a softness to his tone now, a contrast to the control he’s exercised over you all night. It’s almost comforting, though the intensity of the moment still lingers in the air, thick and suffocating.

You blink up at him, trying to gather your thoughts, but it’s like your brain is still catching up with your body, still trying to process everything that’s just happened.

“How long …” You ask, your voice shaky.

Toto’s eyes flicker with something — amusement, maybe — but he doesn’t answer your question directly. Instead, he kneels down in front of you, his hand moving up your leg, slowly, deliberately, as if he’s reacquainting himself with your body after watching it from a distance.

“You’ve lost track of time,” he says softly, almost teasing. “That’s good.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your body still buzzing with the remnants of overstimulation. “It … it was too much,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, something softens in his expression. “I know,” he says simply, his voice a little quieter now. “That’s the point.”

He unclips the spreader bar from your ankles, letting your legs fall together. The relief is immediate, though your muscles are so weak and trembling that it takes you a moment to fully relax into the new position. The wetness between your legs feels like a constant reminder of what just happened, and your cheeks burn with the realization.

Toto reaches for the butterfly clamp, his fingers brushing against your sensitive skin as he removes it with the same care and precision as before. The absence of its pressure is almost startling, and you let out a small gasp of relief.

He stands up, towering over you again, and you look up at him, still trying to catch your breath, still trying to make sense of everything.

“Are you okay?” His voice is quieter now, more gentle, and it catches you off guard. There’s a tenderness in his tone that you haven’t heard all night, and it makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite name.

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s true. “I … I think so.”

Toto’s eyes search yours for a long moment, and then he reaches down, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice makes your breath hitch.

You don’t know how to respond. You don’t even know what you feel right now. Exhausted? Relieved? Overwhelmed? Grateful? It’s all tangled up together, too complicated to untangle in this moment.

“Toto,” you whisper, your voice shaky, “I … I don’t know what to say.”

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible smile, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says, his voice low and comforting. “I already know.”

His words wash over you like a balm, soothing the chaos that’s still swirling in your mind. And for the first time since this all started, you feel a strange sense of calm settling over you, grounding you in the present moment.

Toto sits down on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand resting gently on your thigh. His touch is warm, reassuring, and you find yourself leaning into it, seeking the comfort and stability he’s offering.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, more gentle. “But you did better than I expected.”

You blink at him, your mind still foggy from the intensity of everything, but his words start to cut through the haze.

“Better than you expected?” You repeat, your voice still shaky.

Toto’s lips curve into a small smile, and he nods. “Yes,” he says simply. “You trusted me. You let go. That’s not easy for someone like you.”

You feel a lump form in your throat at his words, the weight of what he’s saying hitting you all at once. He’s right. Letting go — relinquishing control — isn’t something that comes naturally to you. It’s something you’ve fought against for most of your life.

But tonight, with him, you did it.

You let go.

And somehow, in the midst of all the chaos and intensity, that feels like an accomplishment.

***

The bedroom air feels impossibly still as Toto watches you lying there, your body still trembling from the night’s events. Every breath feels like a chore, your legs heavy and unresponsive, a dull ache radiating through your muscles. It’s not pain — not exactly — but the overwhelming sensation of too much. Too much stimulation, too much strain, too much surrender.

Toto moves with a grace you envy. He doesn’t seem shaken by what just happened. If anything, he seems more in control than ever, and it’s a strange comfort as he leans down to whisper, “I’m going to run you a bath.”

You nod weakly, unsure if you could find your voice even if you tried. Your body feels like it doesn’t belong to you anymore. You close your eyes, listening to the faint sounds of him moving around the bathroom. The sound of water running, soft and rhythmic, is a welcome distraction from the buzzing in your mind.

Toto returns after a moment, his face softened in the dim light of the room. “Let’s get you in,” he murmurs, gently slipping an arm under your back and another under your knees. He lifts you as if you weigh nothing at all, effortlessly cradling you against his chest. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady beat of his heart, and for a moment, it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You try to help, try to move your legs or shift your weight, but your limbs feel boneless, unwilling to cooperate. You can only manage a soft whimper, which Toto hushes with a quiet, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He carries you into the bathroom, the air thick with steam from the waiting bath. The scent of lavender fills the space, calming, though your body still feels too raw, too sensitive to truly relax. Toto lowers you into the water with the same tenderness he’s shown all night, but the moment the warmth hits your skin, a sharp sting pulls a gasp from your throat.

“I know,” he murmurs, brushing a wet strand of hair away from your face. “It’ll pass.”

The water laps around you, soothing in some places, biting in others where your skin has been left tender and marked. You sink into it slowly, trying to let the warmth do its job, to soothe the ache that’s set deep into your muscles.

Toto kneels beside the tub, his hand slipping into the water to rub gentle circles over your arm, as though to remind you that he’s still here, still watching, still caring. His touch is light, absent of the dominance he held over you earlier, replaced now with something gentler, more intimate.

You open your eyes just a sliver, watching him through the haze of exhaustion. His face is softened by concern, a tenderness you aren’t sure you were expecting, even though you’ve seen this side of him before. It’s a look he reserves for moments like these, when the intensity fades and all that’s left is the two of you — Toto, no longer the boss, the leader, the man who demands so much. Just him, here, with you.

After a while, he pulls his phone from his pocket, still sitting on the floor next to the tub. His fingers move across the screen with the same efficiency he brings to every part of his life, and before you can even wonder what he’s doing, you hear the familiar voice of your performance coach answering the call.

“Hello?” Comes the voice on the other end, crackling slightly through the phone’s speaker.

Toto clears his throat, casting a glance in your direction, as if measuring whether or not you’re coherent enough to understand what’s about to happen. “Ja, it’s Toto,” he says, his voice steady, professional. “I’m calling about Y/N’s training schedule.”

You can’t help but crack one eye open, watching as he speaks, his tone cool and commanding, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. It’s jarring to witness after everything, the way he can shift so seamlessly between roles, so completely in control.

“She’s, uh …” Toto hesitates, and it catches your attention. Hesitation is rare for him. “She’s not feeling well. She’ll need to take a few days off from training.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and you feel your lips curve upward, just slightly, as you crack one eye open further to see his expression. His eyes flicker to you, catching your amused gaze, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Really?” Your performance coach’s voice sounds skeptical. “She was fine yesterday.”

Toto’s hand slides back into your hair, petting gently as his smirk fades, his tone back to business. “Yes. But today … she’s not well. It’s best she rests.”

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, the disbelief in the coach’s voice almost laughable given the circumstances. But you bite your tongue, too exhausted to interject.

“How bad is it?” Your coach presses. “Fever? Injury?”

“Something like that,” Toto says, his fingers weaving through your damp hair. His voice lowers, taking on that authoritative edge again, the one that says the conversation is over. “She’ll be back when she’s ready. No sooner.”

There’s a sigh on the other end, and you can almost picture your performance coach, frowning, realizing he won’t win this battle against Toto Wolff. “Alright, then. I’ll adjust her schedule.”

“Thank you,” Toto says curtly, and without another word, he ends the call, placing the phone on the tiled floor beside him.

You crack one eye open again, catching his gaze. “Sick, huh?”

Toto raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into that familiar smirk. “What would you prefer I say?”

You exhale a weak laugh, the sound soft and shaky in your throat. “I don’t know … ‘recovering from being tied up and overstimulated for hours’ doesn’t really flow off the tongue.”

His smirk widens, and he leans in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

You hum in agreement, your head falling back against the edge of the tub. The water has started to lose its initial sting, the heat now a welcome relief on your sore, overworked muscles. Toto’s hand continues to move through your hair, and with each gentle stroke, you feel yourself relaxing just a little bit more, the tension draining from your body as the exhaustion begins to take over.

For a few moments, there’s silence. Just the sound of the water sloshing softly around you, Toto’s fingers carding through your hair, and the steady rhythm of your breathing as you try to come back to yourself.

But the quiet doesn’t last.

“You know …” Toto starts, his voice soft, thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier.”

You blink up at him, tired and still floating somewhere between the present and the haze of the night. “Which part?”

“About loving you,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “No matter what.”

You swallow, the weight of his words sinking in. You remember the earlier conversation, the one that started all of this. The tension, the fear, the uncertainty when you told him you wouldn’t be re-signing with Mercedes. It feels like a lifetime ago now, but the truth of it still lingers in the air between you.

“I know you’ve made your decision,” he continues, his voice calm, though you can hear the undercurrent of emotion running beneath it. “And I respect that. I do.”

His hand moves from your hair to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek. His touch is tender, intimate, and you feel your heart constrict in your chest.

“But it doesn’t change how I feel about you,” he says, his voice steady, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll love you, no matter which team you drive for.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him you feel the same, that this — what the two of you have — transcends the politics of racing, of teams, of contracts.

But there’s another part of you that’s still scared. Scared of what it means to leave Mercedes, to leave the team that’s been your home for years. Scared of what it will mean for the two of you once you’re no longer bound by the same badge.

Toto seems to sense your hesitation, and he sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple. “Even if I wish it would always be Mercedes,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice barely a whisper.

Your chest tightens at the admission, the vulnerability in his words catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to say it, to admit that he still wants you to stay. But then again, you suppose you always knew. It’s not just about the team for him — it’s about keeping you close, about holding on to something that feels like it’s slipping away.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice soft, almost broken. You turn your head slightly, your lips brushing against his in a feather-light kiss. “I know.”

Toto rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, you just sit there in the quiet, your heartbeats syncing up, the water cooling around you, but neither of you moves.

Because for now, this moment is enough.

[signed-loni]

Sal x popular!reader🛍️🧸

(≧◡≦) ♡

Tbh, the school didn’t see this coming. A person like you with a person like sal? No one would’ve guessed. Not even Larry, and Larry knows everything about his best friend. Everything.

and you didn’t really see it coming either! You honestly just fell really hard one day because Sal stuck up for the person your friend was poking fun at.

While yes, you are popular and you do hang with that crowd, you were never one to bully. However, you weren’t one to stick up either. Always deciding against it in hopes to keep your status.

But when you saw Sal, shamelessly sticking up for someone because “you have no right to treat them like that”, you immediately were head over heels

Nobody had stuck up to your friends like that, and you were immediately hooked on the masked boy

You don’t hang out with the boy, but you have seen him around school with his small group of friends

You have your little clique, but recently, you’ve been growing distant. The drama that comes along with being in a popular group eventually takes a toll on someone (that someone being you), and getting out of the environment is the best thing to do, whether you like it or not

Sal had seen you around, normally associating you with the asshole-group you were apart of.

He was interested in you, for the lack of a better word.

You guys would share small conversations in the classes you had together, and sometimes even in the halls during passing period

Which was odd to some, and sometimes even him, seeing from the group you come from

He didn't know why, but he felt the odd need of wanting to talk to you and learn more about you

He saw how you kept quiet while your friends shoved kids into lockers, stole from them, blew spitballs at them, and just completely made their life hell.

But he never saw you do that.

He was drawn to you.

(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

Slowly but surely, after a few run-ins and short conversations about anything really, you end up apart of Sals group!

despite what your old friends would say about you now, you were glad you left the group

it was tough, giving up the life you knew was bad for you. The one that tore you down each day, bringing that awful guilty feeling time after time again when you didn’t stick up for what you knew you should’ve because you were scared.

Because you knew if you werent apart of that group, you’d be with the lot that they shoved into lockers.

but Sal and his friends made it a little easier. Especially Larry.

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

living in the addison apartments and also being a big believer in the spooky ghost stuff going on there added fuel to the fire for your relationship with not only Sal but everyone else in the group

eventually, time passes and both of you cant seem to ignore the growing felling’s the both of you share for each other

it ends up in the both of you meeting late at night, sneaking through the creaky walls of the addison apartments, meeting outside of Larrys treehouse to share your feelings for one another.

You both stutter over you words, insisting the other go first, before settling on saying it at the same time

“Okay, 3, 2, 1..” “I like you!” “I like you!”

Its all uphill from there

ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ

You don’t know how to explain it, well you do, but you always say it in the same way

Sal is the best boyfriend ever.

Sal knows everything thing about you, and you know everything about him

He knows the way you play with your fingers when your focusing on finding the solution to a question

He knows how you sit when you’re uncomfortable

He knows the way you tap your pencil on your desk when your anxious trying to get an assignment done

He knows the way you always need to have your hands somewhere; in your pockets, folded under your armpits, crossed over your chest, just somewhere

You know everything about him aswell, once hes opened up and his walls crumble down for you

You know how he hold onto his pigtails when he’s afraid

you know how insecure he is about his face

You know he’s not a fan of dogs at all

You know his undying love for metal music

You know how badly he sucks at art, but still loves to do it

Its sickening how much you both know about each other.

(¯ ³¯)♡

He’s glad you two are dating

He’s even more glad that he was able to pry you away from the shitshow of a group you used to call your friends

You don’t talk about it much, but he knows

He’s seen it

He’s seen them look at you in the halls with him and his group, pointing and snickering to themselves

muttering hateful comments towards you and the others when you pass each other

It makes him mad

It makes Larry even madder

You always tell him your a big girl and can handle it, but he knows it kills you to see your once friends, now hate you because you chose your own well-being over being popular

Larry always offers free beat-ups for them, but you always chuckle lightly, softly declining (although one day you feel you might just accept)

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

If being able to make Sal flusteted beyond comprehension was a crime, you would be arrested

From the compliments, to the sweet gestures, to the small pda, hes blushing like a madman under his prosthetic

He’s grateful he has it on 90% of the time hes around you

he knows you’d make so much fun of him if you saw how red his cheeks go when you hold pinkies in public or kiss the cheek of his mask

(^_−)−♡

It takes him a while to show you his face

Of course, he knows you’d never say anything to hurt him

But despite what he knows, the lingering thought of what he doesn’t know makes him anxious

What if when you saw his face you thought of him differently?

What if when you saw his face you regretted ever becoming his partner?

What if.

What if..

What if…

Eventually, he musters up the courage to be vulnerable

A hang-out at his apartment. A simple movie night.

You’d grown used to kissing the lips of his mask whenever you wanted a kiss, but tonight he stopped you.

Confused, you pull your head back, tilting it a bit, before Sal reaches his shaky hands to the back of his head, unclasping the buckles that kept his prosthetic on his face

Your slightly taken aback

Not at the sight, but at the fact that Sal trusted you enough to show you the most sensitive part of himself

It made you emotional, honestly.

Sal braces himself for a rejection, an insult and a laugh

But what he gets is not what he expects

A kiss.

On his lips

On his his scars

You had kissed him.

He knew right then and there, that you were the one for him. His and his only

(✿ ♥‿♥)

[elllisaaa]

how xdh would confess to you

-> words count : 3.3k words

-> genre : xdh members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : is extremely cute

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | xdh masterlist

GOO GUNIL - MUSICAL

i think that he would be friendly with you from the get-go, always making sure that you feel included in the group conversation.

other than that, i see him as someone who’s very in touch with his own emotions and feelings so he would definitely be quick to notice that he has a crush on you. 

but even if he’s aware of that and that it’s pretty obvious from the way he looks at you, he doesn’t want to confess.

even if he acts confident in front of you, a part of him is still anxious about being rejected. 

poor baby cannot help but overthink everyone of his interactions with you, thinking that he’s cringe and awkward - which is untrue because you just think he’s so cool. 

when you told him that you’d always wanted to learn how to play the drums, he nonchalantly proposed to teach you the basics. 

but gunil hadn’t realized that it would mean spending a lot of time alone with you, and he couldn’t help his heart from beating faster each time he was too close to you, or that you’d look at him with a proud smile on your face because you succeeded in doing what you had just learned. 

“- Did I do it right this time ?”

Gunil was so focused on not cooing at you from how cute your concentrated face was while playing on his drums, with his sticks, that he only snapped out of his haze when he heard your voice. 

“- Uh, yeah, pretty much. But for this part, you should do it more like this. Here, let me show you.”

He got closer to you, his back pressed against your back as he grabbed your hands over the sticks so he could demonstrate exactly how the combo should be done. You could feel the heat of his body behind you, and his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck. You shivered and a blush started to creep up your cheeks - even your ears were red, you could feel it. Your mind drifted away from the drums, only focusing on Gunil and how he was driving you mad. 

“- Y/N ? Are you alright ?”

It was your turn to be snapped out from your thoughts, quickly turning your head in his direction, only for your gaze to fall into his, his face much closer to yours than you thought. You tried to open your mouth and say something, anything to explain why you were distracted and that wasn’t the truth. But Gunil didn’t let you have any chance as he leaned in to lightly kiss you, his hands still holding yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and you let out a gasp as he pulled away. 

“- I…”

Your voice was shaking, and noticing your shocked expression, Gunil cringed at himself. He let go of your hands, burying his face in his palms to shake off the embarrassment. What was he thinking when kissing you just like that ? He was an idiot.

“- Listen, I’m sorry, I don’t even know what took over me, but I’m sorry. I won’t talk about it ever again, we can forget all about it, I’m s-”

This time, it was Gunil who let out a gasp when he felt your lips crashing against his instead. He barely registered the sound of his drumsticks hitting the floor as he got lost in your taste. And this time, when you pulled away, he had a big smile on his face. 

“- Took you long enough.”

“not gonna take me long to take you on a date now, baby.”

KIM JUNGSU - CHARMING

do i really need to explain that he’s the most gentleman to ever exist ? 

like he’s so caring and sweet towards anyone, it makes me tear up.

so you can bet that with you - his crush - he’s even more observant and warmhearted and it feels good to have someone watching over you that much

the type to send you little texts to remind you to eat or drink water when you’re studying hard or working a long shift. 

also the type to put his hands around the corner of things when you bend down so you won’t hurt yourself (i’m crying i need him so bad).

his hugs !!! oh my god i just know that he gives the best hugs ever and that he loves to engulf you in his embrace every time he sees you to say hi.

so like the gentleman he is, his confession would be so fucking romantic (i’m crying again).

he would ask you out to dinner, bringing you to a fancy place where he would’ve reserved the best table for the two of you.

praising you the whole fucking night honestly he just fell in love even more seing you in your pretty outfit, and knowing that you made so much efforts for him is making him weak in the knees.

“- Thank you so much for tonight, Jungsu. I really had a great time.”

You walked as slowly as possible, even if the night was cold and that you could still feel the chilly air despite Jungsu’s jacket sitting on your shoulders since the moment he saw you shivering. You didn’t want the night to end, nor did Jungsu. He wished he could’ve spent the rest of his life by your side, simply admiring you. Both of you had big smiles aborning your faces, hands brushing against each other without any of you daring to take it.

“- It was amazing, yeah. I should be the one thanking you for agreeing to go out with me.”

You chuckled cutely, a pretty blush spreading across your cheeks, and Jungsu couldn’t help staring at you like he did all night. 

“- If I can be honest, I’m glad you made the first move because I was too anxious to do it myself.

- Then I’m glad to have man up for once.”

Both of you laughed together, and disappointment filled you up when you noticed that you were now in front of your building, and that the night would’ve to end eventually. You stood in front of Jungsu, finally finding the courage to grab his hands in yours as your eyes dived into his sparkling gaze. 

“- I know I’ve said it a million times now, but thank you for tonight. And I think I really wouldn’t mind going out with you again.

- I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Jungsu grinned at you, and the urge to kiss your lips overtook him. But it was only your first date, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. So he simply squeezed your hand in his one last time, wished you good night, and turned away. He wanted to slap himself for being such a coward. He had only took three or four steps in the direction of his car before he said “fuck it” and got back to you. 

“- Jungsu ? What are yo-”

You were interrupted by his lips capturing yours, his hands cupping your face. You closed your eyes as you melted under his touch, your hands going up to wrap around his neck and kissing him back. Soon enough, it was impossible to keep on going because you both were smiling too much. Jungsu pulled away, his forehead resting against yours and pushing a stray hair behind your ear.

“- I’ve waited all night for you to do this.”

“if i had known that, i would’ve kissed my girlfriend sooner.”

KWAK JISEOK - CHILDISH

he’s truly so fun to be around, a day with him is never boring. 

you like to pretend like he’s not that funny, but he is, and he makes you laugh all the time. 

you know that when you have a bad day, you only need to spend some time with jiseok and that he will cheer you up without even trying because his mere presence just makes you feel better. 

he’s so comfortable to be around, it’s like you had known him for years.

jiseok is also very playful too, he loves to tease and especially you.

that’s how the members know he has a crush on you ; because he’s constantly bugging you, trying to get your attention.

whenever you walk in a room, his eyes suddenly illuminate, and whenever you walk away or talk to somebody else, he looks like a lost puppy (i’m dying, he’s too cute).

he thinks he’s slick, but he’s really not - the way he’s always trying to rizz you up kinda gives it away.

he pretends it’s only for fun and giggles, but truly, he hopes that one day you’ll catch on because he wants to go out with you.

“- Hey Y/N !”

You sighed and rolled your eyes as Jiseok put his arm around your shoulders, a smirk already stretching out his lips. You already knew what he was going to do, he always did whenever he saw you. And you acted annoyed every time even if you lowkey liked the attention, even if it didn’t bother you that much.

“- What do you want this time, Jiseok ?

- Just wanted to ask you something.”

You could feel the pick up line coming, you knew him all too well by now.

“- Go on.

- Do you believe in love at first sight ? Or should I walk by again ?”

The proud grin on his face didn’t flatter, even as you groaned in annoyance. Jiseok wouldn’t let your lack of positive reactions discourage him. He didn’t have the balls to tell you all about what he was feeling straight up, and the only way he knew to confess was by telling all these stupid pick up lines. If only he wasn’t such a loser, he could’ve asked you out, tell you he liked you. But everytime he looked at you for too long, his hands were shaking and it was as if he couldn’t even talk properly anymore, and he chickened out everytime. 

“- I don’t think it’s gonna be necessary, I’m already in love.”

Jiseok was ready to manage another rejection but hearing you flirt back left him speechless. He opened his mouth and closed it without letting out any words a few times, his cheeks progressively growing more and more red. You chuckled at his lack of reaction, finding him even more cute like that. 

“- Cat got your tongue now ? Come on ! You’ve been flirting with me for months and now that I’m finally saying yes you’re getting shy ?

- You just catched me off guard, that’s all !”

It was your turn to grin proudly as Jiseok buried his blushing face into your shoulder. He was so fucking embarassed, but he couldn’t help the smile stretching out his lips. 

“does this mean i can finally take you out ?”

OH SEUNGMIN - JOKING

he’s a menace, always up to tease you with a pretty smirk on his face. 

but he’s also very sweet because he has a soft spot for you, it’s honestly pathetic from his members point of view how down bad he is for you.

seungmin is constantly praising you, even for the tiniest things : you did good at your exams = praises ; or you cooked something new and it was tasty = praises.

he’s also always complimenting you, be it your outfits, your hair or makeup ; you can bet that he will tell you you’re pretty as soon as he sees you. 

he’s a little playful with it, calling you darling just to see the blush spread on your cheeks.

however, he’s not immune to the effect you have on him either, and he doesn’t really try to hide it. 

you could only be smiling at him, or passionately talking about something you liked and he’s grinning like a lovestruck fool because he thinks you’re so amazing. 

even if sometimes you feel like you can be annoying or boring, seungmin always makes sure to remind you that he’s there to listen to you, that he’s interested. 

despite that, he would not confess first because you already know how infatuated he is with you, he wants you to make the first move. 

“- Seungmin ! It’s not funny, I need to study ! Give me my book !”

The boy chuckled as he held out your book higher, clearly out of your reach. He wasn’t doing this to be mean, obviously. You just looked so cute with the pout aborning your lips, and the way you jumped to try and get your belongings back was also too adorable for him to give up just now. 

“- You don’t need to study, darling, you’re already smart.”

You wanted to stay mad at him but his praises made you flustered once again, still not used to the way he was always adoring you. But you really needed to work on this, because you didn’t want to fail your classes, obviously. 

“- It’s not a good reason, give it back !

- Only if you give me a kiss.”

Seungmin was visibly very satisfied with what he came up with, his smirk widening as your pout intensified. He didn’t believe that you would be bold enough to do it, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Little did he know you had enough of his games. You were already smitten by him, he didn’t need to aggravate that by flirting with you every chance he got. 

“- Okay, if that’s what it takes.”

You stood on your tippy toes to reach his lips, lightly kissing him as you closed your eyes. Seungmin didn’t even have the time to register what was happening before he let go of your book, his now free hands coming down to hold your waist and kiss you again. When you pulled away, surprise was still visible in his eyes, and it was your turn to chuckle.

“- For once, you’re the one blushing.”

“not for long, darling. it’s my duty as your boyfriend, after all.”

HAN HYEONGJUN - SHY

my favourite boy ! he’s so cute i think he’s gonna kill me one day, i swear.

when gunil first introduced you to the guys, hyeongjun was very quiet and didn’t talk to you much.

it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was only that you were so amazing that he didn’t know how to approach you.

so you’ll have to make the first move to engage in conversation with him, but despite him being a little shy at first, you discover that he’s sweet and passionate, and that you love him very much.

and hyeongjun loves you very much too, so much that it’s painfully obvious for everyone else to watch.

so much that his members started to tease him about his crush on you, even if you’re there. hyeongjun denies and denies all the time, especially since you’re joking about it too and that he’s convinced it’s because you’re not interested in him.

despite that, you seem to really enjoy your time with him as you’re always seeking his answers in group talking, or waiting to spend time alone with him. 

“- Hey, Hyeongjun ! Look who’s coming !”

Hyeongjun turned around and discovered that you were the one Jiseok was talking about. His friend had a big grin on his face as he witnessed Hyeongjun cheeks’ growing red as you entered their dorm. Sometimes, he hated his band members for being able to read into him that easily. 

“- Hi guys ! How are you ?

- Well, Hyeongjun is always well when you’re here, Y/N.”

Yes, he definitely hated Jiseok, he would have to sleep with one eye open that night. He glared at his friend coldly, but you only giggled and teased him further. It hurt a little sometimes to have you laughing at his crush like that, even if he always said it wasn’t true, he wished it would be. 

“- Do you need help ?”

Hyeongjun was straddled by your voice as you came into the kitchen where he was finishing up cooking for everyone. He told you what you could do to help him and he tried to stop his hands from shaking and kept a casual conversation with you.

“- The boys seem really adamant about your crush, they love to tease you about it.”

You weren’t looking at him when you said that but you had a little grin on your lips. Hyeongjun stared at you for a few seconds, trying to decide if he should say something now or not, but his heart took the decision for him before his brain could think about it further. 

“- Would it be so bad if I really had a crush on you ?”

You snapped your head up to look at him, but he couldn’t hold your gaze for long, his cheeks heating up again the longer he felt your eyes on him. Your eyes were sparkling with joy, your smile eating your face as you watched him nervously run his hand through his long hair. You stopped him from biting his nail when you carefully grabbed his hand, his eyes finally falling into yours.

“- Well, since I have a crush on you too, I don’t think it would be a problem.”

“i’m gonna be the one to tease them now because i have the prettiest girlfriend in the world.”

LEE JOOYEON - SILLY

he has such a good vibe, i feel like you can only smile and be happy when you’re with him.

he’s the type of friend you can do stupid things with and he isn’t gonna judge you because he does stupid things too. 

he could be considered childish at times, but you love it because you can do everything you want with him and he makes you laugh so much.

definitely the first one you come to whenever you feel down, and he’s extremely grateful that you’re this comfortable with him.

i think he would be very touchy with you, he always wants to hug you or cuddle when you’re both watching a movie. 

his other way to hint that he has a crush on you is by flirting every so often, with this cheeky smile of his (screaming).

so when a game night gives him the perfect occasion to make a move, jooyeon is gonna take it. 

“- Okay so your task is to propose to someone !”

Jooyeon immediately locked eyes with you upon hearing his dare. It was finally his chance to tell you how he had been feeling for some time now. You grinned at him like you did every time you knew he was going to do something a little stupid. Jooyeon got down on one knee in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. 

“- Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife ?”

If you hadn’t known him for years, you would’ve thought that he was serious. The way Jooyeon seemed to really be waiting for an answer made your breath hitch in your throat, your heart beat faster and butterflies come alive in your stomach.

“- I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Everyone around you was whistling and screaming “kiss”. And honestly, you wanted to do it. You wanted to reach forward and kiss Jooyeon. You searched for a response in his eyes, but all you could see was adoration. So you didn’t think further and you cupped his face to peck his lips. This time, it was his breath that was knocked out of his lungs, his brain unable to process what had just happened. And as all your friends cheered, the world around you dissolved, tunnel vision to Jooyeon’s face that you were still holding gently. 

“- You know… I wouldn’t mind becoming your wife for real.”

That big smile you loved so much took over his features, making it hard for him to kiss you again, and again, and again. You were giggling the whole time, letting Jooyeon hold you in his arms and twirl you around as if you really were a newly married couple.

“it’s too soon for now, but one day i’ll do it. one day i’m gonna marry you, baby.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

[sammylkcho]

Please.. Forgive me.

Warnings/Notes: vague descriptions of dismemberment, descriptions of gory scenes, angst, deaths, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, mentions of suicide, more questions than answers

"I'm sure we’ll be able to get out of this, especially with Painter’s help.. distracting those disposables Urbanshade brings so we can grab the crystal" you said in a cheerful voice, swinging your legs back and forth from the box you were sitting on.

Sebastian let out an uncomfortable hum, his attention glued to the files marked "CLASSIFIED" in bold letters. He was pouring over the documents without even a glance away, barely even pausing to breathe. You’d seen him work himself to exhaustion like this before, sometimes even passing out from the strain. Secretly, you were starting to worry he’d begin hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

Your face unconsciously tightened into a frown, and your lips pressed into a thin line as you noticed his anxious habit—running a hand through his hair and trying to tuck it behind his fins. It reminded you of when he’d always push the hair falling down each side of his face behind his ears back when he was (well, still is) human.

Quickly replacing your frown, you kept chatting away about all the things you could do once you were back on the surface. You mentioned how living by a nice beach could be a fresh, relaxing start for both of you after everything. Painter could even capture the beauty of the sunsets there.

There was no sign he was listening, but you knew his mind was elsewhere. Still, you kept talking—it was a surefire way to help calm your own nerves.

Listening to Painter ramble on about whatever he liked—a new drawing or sketch he’d made, or even just complaining about the disposables—was one of the only things that could ground you, helping keep you tethered when your thoughts began to consume you. Somehow, it both soothed you and brought back all the anxieties you were left with at the end of each day.

Sometimes Painter noticed the shifts in your mood and asked about them. Usually, you didn’t tell him anything to avoid worrying him, letting him continue his usual ramblings, but today was one of those rare moments when you let a thought slip.

“.. Are you alright? I started complaining about Sebastian, and you didn’t even jump in to defend him or argue about it” he noted, trying to keep the worry in his tone hidden. Being soft or consoling wasn’t something his programming was used to after all his time in a place like this.

You looked down, trying to find the right words to explain to the AI the emotional mess you were in now (and, honestly, always) and to make him understand, even just a little.

“It’s just... Is it wrong that I’m becoming numb to someone dying? I used to feel sick, to gag whenever I saw a disposable’s corpse, and now it doesn’t faze me—their deaths or the brutal injuries. It’s like it doesn’t gross me out at all. I think picking through bodies with Sebastian is getting to me...” You chuckled softly, though it was more out of hollow irony than anything.

“And besides, it’s hard trying to help Sebastian when he only lets me tend to the disposables that end up here. Other than that, he doesn’t let me help him physically or mentally.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying in vain to calm yourself or slow down the racing of your thoughts. You felt your breathing grow ragged, your hands shaking beyond your control as if they were reacting all on their own.

“It’s exhausting... I want to help him a little because I know the hell he’s dealing with, but I also have no idea what goes through his head, especially when he won’t tell me the full story.”

Your voice wavered, your teeth chattering as a tremor started to take over your body.

“He tells me I can’t help him when I can’t even help myself. I can handle my mess and his at the same time; I know I can.”

You could hear Painter’s voice saying something, but it didn’t register.

“I know I can do it, I’m fine. I wouldn’t get tired of hearing his complaints or thoughts.”

There was Painter’s voice again. What was he saying?

“I can handle it, I’M FINE—”

“You’re bleeding!”

Painter’s voice came through the old computer speakers so loudly you swore it sounded distorted.

You tasted something metallic on your lower lip, and your tongue quickly recognized the taste of blood when you licked it, realizing what it was.

You looked down at your hands, now stained red, with the indents of your nails pressing into your palms.

When you blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, you noticed your eyelashes were wet, and your cheeks felt uncomfortably damp. You had been crying too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing or what for. You just felt the need to after putting poor Painter through this, letting him see you unraveling over your anxieties, showing him this sorry state.

“It’s okay... Just.. do you want to talk it over more calmly?” he asked, his words sounding a bit awkward as he wasn’t sure what to say or do.

You quickly shook your head, wiping your tears away with your sleeve. You braced your hands against the floor to stand, relying on it to steady you because your legs were still trembling. You didn’t trust yourself to get up without some support, given how shaky you still felt.

Before Painter could say anything else, you left as quickly as you could, trying to drown out the voices in your head blaming you for burdening him, for voicing your problems aloud. You didn’t deserve even his pity.

You were pathetic—worse than pitiful.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to show up at Sebastian’s shop, the place you called home.

You sprinted quickly into one of the rooms down the long hallway you’d been running through. Instinct drove you under the desk in the wide room, both hands clamped over your mouth and nose to stifle the sound of your heavy, panicked breathing. You needed to hide from this monster.

Scenes of the person you were escaping from replayed in your head like a film.

It was just another disposable who’d somehow made it this far while you’d been with Painter. You’d spotted him at a distance in a dark room before the voices over the speakers cut through the silence, alerting you and the disposable who was now only inches away from you.

“There’s another person inside the facility. They violated company regulations and are complicit with Z-13. Their elimination will yield twice the initial reward.” The HQ voice blared through the speakers, making you gasp when it mentioned your name.

You’d forgotten that some of the cameras still worked throughout the facility, likely monitoring the disposables and reporting on what was taking them down along the way.

The moment you took a step forward and your footfall echoed across the room, you felt a burning gaze on the back of your neck. Without daring to look back at the person behind you, you took off running, a prey fleeing from its hunter.

The sound of a missed gunshot made your blood run cold in an instant. You didn’t even want to ask how he got a weapon, but he had one—and you were completely defenseless.

That’s what brought you here, crouched under the desk, silently praying to God that, just this once, he would listen and spare you from this person.

You prayed to God, to Eyesfastion, hoping they’d appear out of pure chance and force him to look them in the eyes. Or for an Angler to come roaring through the rooms, Chainsmoker to slow his steps. Any miracle.

Of all the times you’d wanted to be six feet under, wished for death to just take you already, this time you didn’t want to go. No matter how often you’d begged for death to come, this time, you wanted to live.

You held your breath, clamping down on it entirely when the sound of firm footsteps filled the room where you hid.

Closer and closer.

The desk creaked as something leaned against it. He was mere inches away. You could hear his breathing and the clank of the gun as he set it on top of the desk.

Your shaking eyes drifted to the glass in front of you, showing a view of the vast, deep ocean no other human besides Urbanshade could ever witness at such depths. Due to your crouched, hidden position under the desk, you couldn’t see your own reflection in the glass, but you could see his. A sharp gasp escaped you when you saw the appearance of your hunter.

His gaze immediately dropped downward as your gasp echoed through the room. His hand swiftly gripped the gun before he moved around to the back of the desk.

Sebastian was tucking away documents and small DNA samples he found into the neoprene suit of the now-deceased expendable, also grabbing the unused batteries. He stored everything in the small pouches strapped along his tail.

When he finished organizing everything and made sure it was all in place, he started heading back to his tent, the quick thought of seeing you there to talk non-stop just to fill the ever-present silence. A humorous smile crossed his face; this time, he’d make sure to join the conversation.

The door indicator’s number flashed, crackling quickly, before the face of Painter appeared on the screen.

"SEBASTIAN."

The AI’s shout disoriented him for a couple of seconds, leaving him confused by its sudden appearance. Painter usually waited until Sebastian visited him in his usual location to relay any messages, so seeing him appear here and shout was odd.

"What’s going on? I’m doing inventory on the expendables, so you can tell me whatever you need later, you stupid—"

"Shut up, you filthy fish, and get to room 65. They’re in danger."

The mention of your name and that you were in danger ignited something inside him.

You had already mastered the dangers of this place, even if you still trembled with fear after an Angler encounter. What had stopped you now?

He didn’t take the time to respond to the AI, instead moving as fast as his instincts could carry him to the room number. He knew the place like the back of his hand and was only six rooms away—just a little more, and he’d be there.

He was greeted by a wide hallway and the stench of blood, sharply invading his senses and nostrils. The smell was sickening, but he could bear it for a few minutes—though this time, it felt disturbingly familiar.

The stench led him to a room where he immediately noticed blood-stained glass, crimson trails streaking downwards. The sight disgusted him more than anything else, for no clear reason.

His third hand moved to his three-barreled shotgun. Although he heard nothing, something told him that wasn’t a good sign.

His breath caught entirely when two bodies came into view, and he recognized yours immediately, even though he tried not to.

You were covered in blood, both your own and your attacker’s. Dried blood streamed from your nose, bruises becoming clear against the pallor of your skin. You had two gunshot wounds: one in your stomach and another in your leg.

Then he looked at your attacker.

The blood on the attacker’s face made it hard to see him clearly, but gray hair and a graying beard showed through wrinkles and lines that marked his features.

He had also been shot, but his wound was on the forehead, and there were a series of scratches on his neck, arms, and face—made with fierce aggression.

Sebastian could almost picture the possible scenario that led to all this.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if your pulse might still be beating, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

He heard no breath, no desperate gasping for air. Nothing.

The silence terrified him; you were supposed to fill that silence with words, turn that "nothing" into "something."

Had your attacker enjoyed your suffering? Had he even regretted, at any moment, the shots he’d fired at you? Had he seen you lifeless and felt fear at his mistake? Would he have slept soundly knowing he’d killed you?

No.

No, he didn’t believe it.

He would have made him regret being alive. He would have killed him in a worse way than he killed you.

He would have made him swallow his own teeth, fingers, and scraps of skin while he was still alive. Being alive would have been its own torture.

More than anything, he wanted to avenge you, to have done something so that this repulsive creature hadn’t killed or tortured you, even if in some "stupid" way.

…

He needed you.

[sillysowa]

Request, write as you please but

Now hear me

Plus size reader and hobie is just like 'Sit on my face, i will eat you out like a pie' Reader tried to explain that wouldn't be smart in case he lost airflow and his response is something along the lines of "Ill Die A HAPPY MAN"

-🧁Anon

Love, love, love, this—ty cupcake anon🙏 I apologize for the wait! I’ve found myself writing multiple works at a time.

TASTE LIKE HEAVEN

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X PLUS-SIZE!FEM!READER

GENRE: SLIGHT ANGST, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 0.8K

WARNINGS: BODY INSECURITIES FROM READER IN THE BEGINNING, ORAL FEM RECEIVING, FACE-SITTING, ASS SLAPPING

AUTHORS NOTE: I JUST LOVE WRITING CUNNILINGUS, KEEP IT COMING

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE CONVINCES HIS GIRL THE BEST WAY TO GO IS DEATH BY FACESITTING

—

Hobie is tall and lanky. He knows that how you feel about your body is something he may never understand, but he absolutely loves you and is willing to try.

Your body is so incredibly beautiful to Hobie in ways that he can’t even put into words. When he’s found you staring too hard in the mirror or at skinnier women, getting insecure when shopping for clothes or continually struggling to find an outfit because you’re having a bad body confidence day, it absolutely wrecks him.

The two of you were currently making out in his room, lying on your sides. He had noticed how shy you had been with sex these past weeks, and he wanted to help you—even if it meant walking you through taking a step out of your comfort zone,

“Luv, ‘wanna try something.” He states, out of breath from your kiss. He nestles a pillow under his head and lays back, grabbing your hands and guiding you on top of him.

“H-Hobie, I-“

“C’mon! It’s alright, I want you to.” He assures you, looking up into your eyes like you hung the stars—gaze full of admiration and eyebrows pinched in desire. You allow yourself to at least get on his lap, confused when he, still fully clothed, starts to remove your shorts.

“What are you thinking, Hobe’s?” You ask with a teasing sigh. You were nervous. You knew Hobie hated when you refused to do certain things out of insecurity or fear over your weight compared to his. Hobie ‘couldn’t give a rats-ass’ as he has said previously. You still felt anxious. You were now nude waist down, and Hobie got a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your stomach drop,

“You’re gonna sit on my face.” He said casually like it didn’t send a chill up your spine,

“No. Nonono, Hobie that’s not a good idea.” You instantly attempt to shut it down, moving to get off of him when his hands lock on your hips, his surprising super-human strength catching you off guard.

“I know you’d have the time of your life riding my face, darling. Just let me show you how good it can be.” He begs, squeezing your hips. Hobie would truly never make you do something you don’t want to do, but he knows you’d love it. He understands that you’re just struggling with the idea of resting your full weight on his face.

“What if you…can’t breathe?” You mumble, trying to make up an excuse despite the throbbing you feel between your legs. Hobie instantly lets out the most seductive laugh you’ve ever heard, his hands tightening on your hips and shaking you slightly, his gaze falls back on you before he simply smiles and says,

“I can’t think of a better way to go.”

Before you knew it, he was guiding you through it, your pussy right above his face and your hands on the headboard.

“Give it to me, luv.” Hobie groans. His eyelashes flutter closed as you gently sit on his face, your thighs around his head. He hums, expertly eating you out the moment you’re in his reach—your moans filling the room. His tongue is everywhere, his hands moving your hips with a steady rhythm, helping you ride his face just like he wants.

“Atta girl, baby,” He moans into your pussy, “Fuck my face, doll.” Hobie messily eats you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his grip on your hips tight. He slaps your ass and fungus fucks you, his eyes up gazing at your fucked our face. He notices your desperate panting and whines of his name, looking down at him with your face heating up from the overwhelming pleasure. The sound of his mouth working on you, the heat in the room, the feeling of his warm tongue in your tight pussy—it’s almost too much to handle—but the aching in your thighs as you desperately try to not rest your full weight on Hobie is worse. Suddenly, you feel his hands snake around your thighs and pull you down onto him as if you weigh nothing. You gasp and moan brokenly at the feeling, Hobie letting out a deep primal noise and slapping your ass, urging you to ride him. You pause a moment to look down at his face, only his eyes visible with you using him as a seat. Your hips slowly start to move on him, Hobie nodding in approval as you ride. The feeling of your orgasm nearing clouds your senses, your hips rapidly thrusting on Hobie’s face as you moan his name into the room,

“Hobie!~” You moan his name as you cum, your hands gripping the headboard as your lover drinks you up. Your head falls back, lifting yourself up a bit and taking deep breaths as Hobie licks the mess up. He kisses your thighs before you fall over onto your back, your clit pulsing and your head spinning. Hobie smiles and kisses you, the taste of your orgasm all over his tongue and lips. He pulls away, and the tent in his pants makes your pussy clench around nothing. Hobie leans down and kisses you where you’re sensitive, chuckling

“Have I ever told’ja you taste just like heaven, luv?”

[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 7

Summary: The seventh part to iFall for Harry

Letting the stranger in your phone go is a lot harder than you anticipated.

Surely a drunken phone call will help with that.

Word Count: 2k

What do you call an apology written in dots and dashes? 

Remorse Code.

…

I’m gonna assume you’re laughing. 

Like hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

And while you attempt to keep from rolling on the floor…I want to say I’m sorry.

Again.

Because I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

I know that was selfish. And sneaky. And I wasn’t trying to be. Not on purpose.

I just…I didn’t see any reason to change or ruin what we had.

And then we met. And I saw you. And everything and nothing made sense all at once.

And I thought I could explain.

I wanted to explain.

But I wasn’t sure how.

I guess I thought if we kept talking…the right answer would find me.

But it didn’t.

And then you left.

And I don’t know what to do.

I really don’t know what to do, Cheese Girl.

I miss you.

And I hope you talk to me soon.

You read every text as it comes in. You read, and you reread, and you try not to worsen the anxious pit deep in your stomach.

You didn’t expect this to be so hard. 

You don’t want this to be so fucking hard.

You met him. You met the stranger in your phone and for the most part, it was civil. 

You weren’t catfished. Hooray.

Not to mention, you met Harry Styles. Something that not everybody can say.

But you know better than to let it go any further than it already has. Because it can’t go any further. Your best option is to cut your losses and move on.

Leave this stranger behind.

Because that’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

A stranger.

You make peace with this thought and go about your life. You go to work, you go to yoga, you go to a bar with friends. You meet new people, and you try new recipes, and you start a new book.

You start a new chapter. Without him.

You try not to think about him. And for the most part, you don’t. He doesn’t reach out again and you assume he probably won’t ever. 

And you’re okay with that.

And then…you’ll hear his name. A friend will mention an outfit he wore at a recent concert or about rumors he’s working on his next album.

And that anxious coil in your stomach will return.

A part of you is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. To find out that this was all some sort of sick prank. For the moment cameras will be shoved into your face to capture your reaction to the news that you’ve been part of a James Corden skit. Or that he’ll be singing about the pathetic girl that had the nerve to believe him when he can do so much better.

But the thing you’re most afraid of…is the way you miss talking to him. The way you’ll pull up his name on your phone and type out a message…only to delete it before you get the nerve to send it.

The way you wish…you could go back to that diner and do it again.

It haunts you, this thought. This regret. More than it should. It eats away at all the work you’ve put in to leaving him behind. It follows you all day. Into the shower, into work, into the grocery store.

And it leads you directly to a bottle of wine.

You’re halfway through your third glass when you get the idea. When all common sense takes a flying leap out the window. And before your better judgment can kick in…you’ve opened up his contact information.

The ringing is loud. Maybe too loud and you grimace as you pull the phone away from your ear. You might be a little too drunk for this.

And then…the ringing stops.

And it all goes quiet.

Until—

“Hello?”

His voice is exactly like you remember. British. And deep. And just a bit raspy.

Perhaps if it were any other moment, you’d be tempted to feel nervous or flushed, but right now…you simply straighten up.

“Hello,” you repeat in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “It’s me. Cheese Girl.”

You think you hear him laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he says before pausing. “…hi.”

“Hi,” you echo before frowning and clearing your throat. “I just wanted to call and say…fuck you.”

A beat before he sighs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You begin to pace around your apartment, hoping that the movement will help the words flow a bit faster. “Yeah, because you…you are a complete and total asshole. Did you know that?”

“…I did.”

“Good.” You nod. “And do you know why you’re a complete and total asshole?”

Another brief pause. “Because I lied to you.”

“Eh. Wrong.” You come to a stop. “Because you made me like you.”

Silence.

You carry on. “You made me like you…and then you took it away,” you tell him. “You made me like a complete and total stranger that I’d never met. That I knew nothing about. Just from some puns and your sexy-ass voice. You made me like you. Like…really like you. And then you just…you took it away.”

More silence before he finally murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

Your frown deepens. “No…yes. Maybe—look, that’s not the point. Everything I said is still true.”

He sighs. And it’s heavy. “I…shit, look I…I didn’t take it away. Okay, in fact the last thing I wanted was to end this, but you were the one who said we couldn’t continue.”

“Because we can’t,” you remind him. “Hello. You’re you. You’re so famous, you can’t even walk through the street without people flocking to you.”

“So?”

“So…there’s no room for me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“How?”

“How?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“Because I just do,” you huff. “There’s only room for models, and famous people, and tours, and all the fucking money you’re probably making. But there’s no room for me.”

“I’d make room.”

The confident remark makes your head spin, and you blink down at the floor.

The call goes quiet for a good minute or two. You wonder if he’s still there, but something tells you…he is.

“You can’t…say stuff like that,” you finally whisper.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not fair. And it’s not true. You can’t possibly make a promise like that.”

“Says who?”

“Says…everyone.” You slump down onto the armrest of your sofa and stare at your lap. “And even if you could…you shouldn’t. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t,” you correct. “You don’t want to know me. I’m not…I’m just me. I’m not exactly worth getting to know.”

You hear him scoff. “Well…that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes narrow. “It’s true. I can’t give you what they can.”

“They who?”

“You know. The other people in your life.”

“What people?”

“The…people. The models and the mommy’s you’re so obsessed with.”

He snorts again. “Okay, well, that doesn’t even close to cover my type.”

“Oh, no? Tell that to literally every ex you’ve ever had.”

“Those weren’t all of my ex’s.”

“Please. Like you managed to date somebody that the press didn’t know about.”

“I have. Many times, actually.”

“Name one.”

“Well, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of dating them privately, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I’m not the press. And I’m not gonna tell.”

“Yeah? How do I know that?”

“Have I leaked anything yet?”

The call goes quiet again.

“No,” he admits after a minute. “And honestly...I was kind of disappointed when you didn’t.”

Your brows furrow. “What? Why?”

“Because it meant that you didn’t want anything from me,” he says softly. “It would have made sense if you’d just used this situation to…make some money or gain some publicity. It probably would have even been easier on me if that’s how it ended.”

You feel your heart sink.

“But…your silence meant that you didn’t care about that,” he continues. “It meant that I’d really hurt you. That this had been…real. That you’d rather cut me off altogether then make some sort of name for yourself.”

You swallow the odd lump in your throat as you slide down onto the couch cushions. “I never wanted to make money off of you.”

“I know,” he murmurs, somewhat sadly. “It just…would have been easier if you had.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you will yourself to remain calm. “Harry?”

“…yeah?”

You suck in a quiet breath.

“I miss you.”

You hear him sigh before there’s a bit of static.

He doesn’t answer right away, and you wish more than anything that you knew what he was thinking.

“I miss you, too,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so dejected. “I really fucking miss you, and I’m so sorry that I ruined us.”

“You didn’t,” you whisper, in a voice so small, you’ll be surprised if he hears you. “You were always who you said you were. I know that. But…you and I don’t exist in the same universe. And I don’t think we ever can.”

“Why?” His question is both hopeful and forlorn. “Why not? I have tons of friendships and relationships the world never sees. This wouldn’t have to be any different—we wouldn’t have to be any different. We could still be us.”

Suddenly, your throat burns from the tears you know are coming. “Harry…”

“What? No, stop. We just…come on. We’ve…we’ve met one time. Okay, this is only the start. We still have so much to learn—”

“Harry—”

“No. No, stop…stop doing that. Stop deciding we can’t have a friendship. You haven’t even tried—”

“I can’t try. I can’t…I can’t do this again—”

“Do what? We haven’t even done anything—”

“I can’t lose you again.”

You hate how quiet he gets.

“It was really fucking hard to leave you,” you admit, and there’s a slight rasp to your voice as you fight back tears. “It was so hard to realize that everything I wanted for us was just…gone. That you were gone. That this…weirdly wonderful period of my life was just…over.”

He doesn’t speak yet and you know it’s because he’s waiting for you to finish.

“And if I…if I let myself do this again…and I lose you again…I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“Then you won’t lose me,” he says, but your head shakes.

“You can’t promise that.”

A beat.

“I know,” he sighs before the sigh turns into a groan. “Fuck. I know, I…”

You wait, heart pounding.

You don’t know what you want him to say. You don’t know what he can say.

Maybe you just…wanted to hear his voice.

“Is this why you called me, then?” he asks. “Just to tell me you can’t talk to me?”

Yes. No. 

I don’t know.

“I called because…letting you go isn’t easy for me,” you say. “Even though it should be. Even though I still don’t know you. Because…I feel like I do. I feel like I know you and I feel like when you’re gone…there’s something…missing. And it hurts. And I hate it.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I feel it, too.”

You both fall silent.

The sound of his soft breaths is comforting.

It’s a sound you imagine you’ll remember the rest of your life.

“Let’s make a deal,” you say, stomach already churning at the thought. “We’re good at those.”

He offers a gentle chuckle. “Okay.”

“We stay on the phone for as long as we want tonight,” you explain. “But once we hang up…it’s over. For good. No more texts. No more late-night drunken calls. No regrets. We delete, we block…and we move on.”

He thinks about this. “Is that really what you want?”

“No.” Your eyes squeeze shut. “But it’s the only way I’ll be able to let you go.”

You hate that you can feel his disappointment.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay. Then I’m right here. Until you’re ready.”

You clutch the phone to your ear as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

So begins the end.

“Okay.”

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 8

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part eighteen

Basil wants to have a talk with Alice. word count: 2.8k

“Is, um… is everything okay?”

Alice remained silent, gazing out the passenger-side window. Shops rolled by, bright and pleasant, a juxtaposition to the dread she currently felt. To her left, Breanna’s fingers drummed over the steering wheel. “Alice, what’s going on?”

Ten minutes ago, that female borrower— Basil— had insisted that Alice stick around so that they could endure a conversation. Uncomfortable with how adamant the borrower had been, and afraid to make a scene in front of her already bewildered friends, Alice had agreed.

The borrowers had expressed their unease with being out in the open for so long, so Felix had offered his apartment as a suitable meeting spot. Felix had taken the borrowers with him to his car, leaving Alice and Breanna to drive to his place alone.

Alice let out an exhale, glancing at her friend.

“Did Felix tell you about… what happened?” Alice asked finally, wringing her hands.

Breanna’s brow furrowed. “No. He told me that you met the borrowers a few weeks ago, but that’s it.” After a moment of hesitation, she sent Alice a brief glance, then turned back to the road ahead. “I… I’m guessing your meeting didn’t go too well, huh?”

Alice pursed her lips, and Breanna continued. “I mean, you and Felix were fighting for a while. He seems protective of them. And, the borrowers don’t seem to, ah…”

“Like me?” Alice finished dryly. Breanna gave her a sympathetic look, earning a miserable sigh from Alice. She continued, “Well, yeah, you’re right. You know when the cast list came out, and we were all at Felix’s apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… while Felix was walking you and Owen out, I found the borrowers.” Alice’s lips tightened at the memory, stomach twisting. “I… I didn’t know what they were, and I was freaked out, cause I thought they were sneaking around his apartment, you know? Like, they were small, but they were people. It would have been considered breaking and entering if they were humans, you know? I panicked.”

Breanna released a breath. “Oh. I see.”

“And then… I took them,” Alice muttered, heart sinking.

“Wh-what?”

“I took them to my apartment and I put them in a jar.”

Breanna’s stunned expression only sent Alice’s heart tumbling further into the abyss. Her soft features hardened, her lashes fluttering in disbelief. “You what?” Her hand slipped on the steering wheel briefly, causing the car to swerve momentarily. Breanna briefly cursed under her breath, righting the car. “Alice, what the hell?”

“I—” Alice’s face grew warm, and she turned away. 

She knew that she had fucked up, then. In one moment, she had fallen into her untrusting, anxious, and quick-tempered tendencies, and had probably traumatized two tiny people because of it.

The past few weeks had been miserable for her. Constantly staring at the jars in her cabinet, dwelling, feeling awful. After reflecting on her actions, she had deduced that the borrowers had clearly been expecting death or imprisonment from her, an absolutely gutting thought. She hadn’t trusted them in the slightest, but she truly hadn’t planned on permanently keeping them against their will, or— as sickening as it sounded— kill them.

She had made an awful mistake by kidnapping them, she knew that– but was there really no way that she could be forgiven, especially since she had kept their secret ever since? That had to be important to them, right?

After half-heartedly explaining what had happened to Breanna, leaving her friend appalled, Alice wanted to jump out of the car and walk straight home. Shame tore at her chest, hot and miserable.

“Why— you— a jar?” Breanna gasped, breathless, brow tightly knit. She had always been so incredibly understanding, always willing to listen to Alice and take her side. Alice felt miserable, knowing just how hard Breanna was trying to accept this.

“I messed up,” Alice mumbled. “I just— I don’t understand why they still hate me so much. I haven’t bothered them since.”

“Well, you— Alice, you put them in a jar.”

“I know, but—“

“And you shook it. And injured them.”

Alice’s face fell. “That— that was genuinely an accident. I really wasn’t trying to.”

Breanna sighed heavily, and Alice shrank back. The disappointment in her eyes felt like a punch to the gut.

“Alice,” Breanna began, voice gentle but firm. “We’ve been friends for years. I believe you, and I know you were trying to do the right thing.”

“Thank you, I—“

“But just— hang on.” Breanna sent her a glance. “I’m telling you this as your friend— but you really have a tendency to jump to conclusions, and then refuse to believe anything else.”

Alice faltered. Breanna continued.

“You’re stubborn, Alice. I know that the second you decided that the borrowers were dangerous, there was no convincing you otherwise— and when there are literally the lives of tiny, vulnerable people involved, that’s not okay.”

Alice crossed her arms, chest tightening. It was true. Even during the whole ordeal, when she had been dropping the borrowers into a jar and interrogating them, she had had her doubts. Admitting that she was wrong, however, was an incredibly frustrating chore for her. It was always easier for her to just double down on her original claim.

“I guess you’re right,” Alice mumbled, forlorn. 

Breanna was quiet for a moment, turning down Felix’s street. She seemed upset with this new information, and Alice understood, considering how fond Breanna was of their tiny acquaintances. “So– so, what happened after? You let the borrowers go?”

Alice chewed her lip. “Felix came and took them back, and that was it. I haven’t seen them since— until now.”

A second passed, heavy with emotion. Breanna’s brow knit. “You— you told Felix to come get them?”

“No, he—“ Alice’s voice faltered. A sense of doubt tugged at her chest. “He just showed up at my apartment. I guess he just knew that they were missing.”

The silence stretched further, and as Breanna pulled into the parking lot of Felix’s apartment building, she frowned. “Huh.”

Alice’s stomach was icy, twisting with confusion. She barely even noticed when the car pulled up outside the front doors, engine still running, until Breanna cleared her throat.

“They’re in there waiting for you,” Breanna reminded her. 

Alice sent her a wide-eyed look. “You’re not coming?”

Her friend’s features softened, dark eyes scanning Alice’s face. “It doesn’t really seem like my business,” Breanna admitted with a small, knowing smile. “Just text me whenever you need a ride home.”

After a quick hug and a farewell with Breanna, Alice found herself stalking down the long, imposing hallway of Felix’s apartment building. Although she understood why Breanna didn’t want to join their conversation, Alice still felt significantly worse walking in alone, outnumbered by Felix and the borrowers— all three of which held a very reasonable grudge against her.

God.

This is gonna suck.

——

“I can’t believe this,” Pepper muttered, chest tight. “I can’t believe this.”

Beside him, Basil was rigid, her gaze fiery. He almost wanted to shove her, feeling overwhelmed with the fact that Alice was about to walk into Felix’s apartment, all because of Basil. The two borrowers were pacing on the arm of the couch, much too agitated to sit still, while Felix talked to Alice outside.

“Why do you even want to talk to her?” Pepper demanded, glancing anxiously towards the kitchen. “I thought you hated her.”

“I do hate her,” Basil shot back, a shaky breath escaping her body. Her hands tightened in her arms, hugging herself. “I just have some things to say to her.”

Pepper sighed heavily. “You’re just putting fuel in the fire.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s– it’s a human expression, just– I just don’t understand why you’re trying to get on Alice’s bad side. She’s shoved us into a jar before, Basil, I really don’t want to make her mad.”

Basil’s expression changed, uneasy. She opened her mouth to answer, but both borrowers stiffened at the sound of the front door opening. With an equally nervous glance, they fell silent, turning towards the kitchen.

Felix entered the living room first. Alice followed, stoic.

As always, the presence of two humans automatically sent Pepper’s instincts haywire. He sucked in a breath, glancing between them, almost amused at their height difference. Alice looked small next to Felix, a strange thought, considering that Alice had proven herself to be much more threatening than the towering but incredibly kind Felix. 

“Hey,” Felix said gently. Pepper knew him well enough at this point to detect the rigidness of his soulmate’s shoulders, indicating that Felix hated this just as much as Pepper did. Once again, Pepper was appalled that Basil had organized this. “Let’s sit down.”

“As long as she doesn’t shove us in another jar,” Pepper muttered. Basil remained silent.

The world seemed to move agonizingly slow, as Alice and Felix approached, settling cross-legged on the rug. Pepper’s stomach twisted at the close proximity– although he now appreciated being at the human’s eye level. 

He enjoyed talking to Felix, but he had always hated having to look up at him when they spoke. It only served to remind him how painfully small he was.

“Well?” Alice prompted after a moment of silence, her gaze locked on Basil. 

Pepper glanced at his sister, throat tight. Despite her pale face, Basil’s eyes were fiery, bright and angry.

“What do you mean, well?” Basil suddenly snapped, startling Pepper. “You’re not gonna apologize?”

In less than a second, the air had erupted with tension, striking Pepper right in the chest. He briefly locked eyes with Felix, who had straightened up in alarm, looking prepared to intervene. “Basil–” 

“What?” Alice jerked back, brow furrowing in surprise. “I thought– what?”

Basil threw her arms out expectantly, and Alice stared, contemplative. Pepper tensed, fearing the worst– but Alice only slumped her shoulders, eyes frosty.

“Alright, sorry,” she said with the aura of someone greatly in pain. “I’m sorry for everything that I did to you.”

Her gaze flickered briefly to Pepper, acknowledging him in her apology, and he gave a nervous nod. Beside him, Basil seemed skeptical. Before she could curse Alice out, Pepper spoke, bringing his hand to Basil’s shoulder.

“Why did you–” he tensed. “Why did you do it? Take us?”

With a miserable expression, Alice halfheartedly explained her reasoning to them– that she had felt overly confused, suspicious, protective. During her explanation, Pepper felt Basil inch closer to him, clearly just as nauseated by the reminder of how easily Alice had not only kidnapped them, but had injured them. Although Alice genuinely seemed to regret her actions, Pepper couldn’t fight the thought that she could do all of that again, and more.

“I really am sorry,” Alice finished, gaze dark. “I wasn’t ever planning on keeping you, or– or anything like that– and I shouldn’t have hurt you. It really was an accident, if that helps.”

For a long moment, the borrowers were silent, contemplating her answer. With a surge of appreciation, Pepper opened his mouth to respond— then changed his mind, grabbing Basil’s shoulder. “I need to talk to my sister.”

Pepper briefly caught sight of Felix and Alice’s startled faces before he spun around, tugging Basil along. She yanked at his arm, hissing, “dude, what?” and it was only once they were on the floor, sinking back into the dusty floor behind the couch, did Pepper properly face Basil.

“I think,” Pepper muttered, “that we need to try something else.”

–

The last thing that Felix had expected during their conversation was for Pepper to storm off with Basil in tow, leaving him and Alice alone on his living room floor. 

Silence stretched by, while Alice stared at her hands, expression unreadable. Felix felt incredibly torn in this moment, wanting desperately to comfort his borrower friends, while also understanding how Alice felt. Her apology had seemed genuine, and although he was still upset at her for hurting the borrowers, he knew better than anyone just how easy it was to slip up and hurt the tiny people in an accident.

“I know they’re upset,” Felix tried, keeping his voice gentle. “But I really think that they’re coming around.”

Alice’s lips pursed, and she met Felix’s gaze. “I don’t need them to like me,” she said heavily. Felix disagreed. 

Before he could come up with a response, Alice spoke again, sending a spike of panic directly into his chest. Her voice was low, calm, polite.

“That borrower– Pepper– he’s your soulmate, isn’t he?”

Felix straightened up, heart skipping a beat. Alice observed him, frosty gaze intense and calculating, and his words escaped him in a shuddery breath. “I– he– what?”

“Well– it’s not the girl, is it?”

“How did you–?” Felix’s heart pounded, and with a sudden wave of panic he pulled himself to his feet, not wanting the borrowers to overhear. Alice got the message and followed suit, until both of them had approached the doorway to the kitchen, further away from the couch. Felix’s voice dropped. “How did you know?”

“I’m not blind,” Alice pointed out, amusement flickering in her gaze. “I can see how you two are looking at each other.”

Ice continued to seep through Felix’s veins, cold and worrying. Had she seriously figured out that they were soulmates, simply because he had held eye contact with Pepper a few times today? Was that even possible? 

“And,” Alice added, “he contacted you telepathically, after I put them in that jar– didn’t he?”

Oh.

Felix straightened up at that, heart twisting. Right. He had hoped that Alice wouldn’t ever make that connection– not that it had ever really crossed his mind. 

“It’s okay,” Alice murmured, noticing his panic. “I don’t care. It’s surprising, and… definitely unconventional, but it’s really okay with me.”

At her words, Felix relaxed microscopically, releasing a breath. His heart pounded in his chest, and he vaguely realized that he had never shared his soulmate information with another human before. It was exhilarating, if not terrifying– but it helped to know that Alice wasn’t disgusted.

“Really?” was the only word that Felix could force out, stomach icy. 

Alice nodded. “Dude, it’s fine. I mean– I feel even more like a piece of shit for kidnapping him– but if the universe says that you’re soulmates, then it’s fine with me.”

“It’s fine with you,” Felix echoed, warmth filling his chest. He was startled by his sudden onslaught of emotion, a new and unexpected appreciation for Alice. A nervous laugh escaped him. “I– oh, I can’t believe it.”

She offered a smile. “When did you meet him?”

Felix took a moment to recall, brow furrowed. “Maybe a month or two ago? I, uh— I didn’t actually know that he was my soulmate until he called me from your place.” He flushed.

Alice blinked, aghast. “You— that’s when he told you?”

He shrugged, bewildered, and she laughed.

“Hey.”

A small voice drew their attention. Felix glanced back to the couch, where the two borrowers were standing, looking smaller than ever. Basil’s hands were on her hips, but her furious glare had dwindled into a soft frown. 

Exchanging a curious glance, the two humans returned to their seats on the rug. Pepper was watching Felix, gray eyes wide and wondering, and Felix wondered if he had overheard their conversation. He made a mental note to talk to Pepper later. 

“Alice,” Basil began slowly. She was met with a cautious, icy gaze. “I still don’t trust you.”

Alice blinked, bewildered. 

“But— I could,” Basil continued heavily, clearly uncomfortable with her words. “If we’re both Felix’s friends, then I’m gonna have to learn to tolerate you, at least.”

Felix blinked, heart fluttering. Although he considered Basil to be his friend, it brought a warm feeling into his chest to actually hear that she felt the same.

Next to him, Alice was frozen, appalled. “What are you talking about?”

Basil looked like she wanted to punch someone, so Pepper cut in, gazing up at Alice. “We want to be your friend,” he explained as if it was obvious. Despite his gentle demeanor, Felix could detect the frustration underneath his small form, threatening to arise. 

Alice appeared just as startled as Felix felt, her blue eyes wide. She glanced between the borrowers, blinking, someone flushed. “Seriously?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Basil snapped, earning an impatient elbow from her brother. Alice jerked back, clearly at a loss for words. “Yes, we could try to be friends, maybe.”

Alice was frozen. Felix released a breath, focusing on the borrowers. After a moment of consideration, he offered, “That’s really nice of you.”

“Come on,” Basil huffed, pointing towards the seat of the couch. “We can talk, like friends, or something. Maybe I can actually learn something about you besides the fact that you’re a kidnapper and a— hey!”

Her voice became muffled by Pepper’s hand. With a gentle expression, her brother surveyed Alice, who was holding her breath.

“Ignore that last part,” he offered, gaze flickering briefly towards Felix. “Come sit down.”

----

bro this took me so long for no reason aaahh

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan @mabelisthebatman @andithewhumper @mothsintherain @violetlight @heroofthe13thday @phoenix-on-the-run @houseboatmac @dav8530 @ididit-allofit-foryou

[kkyaka]

Summary: Running into someone who was a key part in making high school hell for you wasn't what you expected when you settled into college Pairing: Ukai Keishin x black!fem!reader Warnings: friends to lovers (kinda), college!au, a handful of angst, reader kinda overworks herself, ukai is whipped for reader, one random bad encounter with an oc, reader was bullied in high school and is still holding onto that LMFAO, making out, grinding, tit sucking, little bit of marking, fingering, i think that's it, if there's anymore please tell me ya girl is tired Word Count: 21,351 (oops) A/N: Um, it's been a while LMFAO. I'm honestly not very proud of this fic, but I wanted to post it anyway as kinda of gateway to getting back into posting my fics cause I have four more (maybe five) that I wanna post. This was a part of my scrapped follower event (RIP). Reblogs are appreciated, and thank you for reading if you do read this trash!

The first week of classes always makes you anxious. This semester, you’ve got some classes in buildings you’ve never been in, and you didn’t get a chance to walk the campus to find them because you moved in so late. You don’t know why the apartment you moved into decided that moving in the weekend before school started was a great idea.

Luckily, you found your first class with ease, a simple elective that you need to graduate, and you hope that the coursework won’t be too hard. You got here early just in case you had trouble finding it, so you scroll on your phone to pass the time as the class fills in. None of your friends are in this class, so you’re not waiting on anybody.

By the size of the room, it doesn’t look like the class size will be that big, so you hope that the people that are taking it with you are bearable. No one is sitting at the desks around you, and that doesn’t bother you, but what does bother you is that someone sits right next to you when there were other seats open. 

You try to keep the sigh you make as silent as possible, not even giving the person a look as you keep your attention on your phone. You put it away when the professor walks in, pulling your laptop out of your backpack as she introduces herself. “Make sure you guys introduce yourselves to the people around you because you’re going to be working with them a lot this semester.”

You try to hide your annoyance, putting on a nice smile before you turn to the person that’s sitting next to you, but it drops the moment your eyes land on them. You feel something run through you that you can’t explain, grabbing the corner of your desk in a tight grip. 

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he laughs, but there’s not a single part of you that finds any of this funny.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whisper, thankful that you’re in the back of the classroom so no one can eavesdrop. 

“Why so hostile? I thought we were friends.”

“We’re far from that Ukai, and you know it.” His name feels heavy, foreign on your tongue, something you hadn’t even thought about saying in months. 

Ukai Keishin. Someone that you’d never thought you’d see again. Someone who’s been haunting your past for way longer than you’d like. You thought that college would give you the chance to get away from him, and yeah sure, you picked a relatively small college, but out of all of the colleges, he picks this one? You can’t help but look over him, seeing how much he’s changed; how much he’s grown. He is not the same boy that you’ve known for so long, and you willfully ignore that part of you that wants to examine that even further.

“You’ve always been so mean to me,” he whines playfully, which makes you roll your eyes because that’s rich coming from him. 

“Answer my question,” you say, hoping that you get an answer from him, and then you just go back to ignoring him. 

“Same reason you are, no?”

“Why this one, specifically?” you press, looking around with your eyes for somewhere else you can sit the next time you have this class.

“You can ease up, alright? I’m being totally honest when I say I had no idea you would be here too.” It doesn’t sound like he’s lying, looking over his face before finding something else to do. You don’t bother to continue the conversation; thankfully, the professor gets the class's attention again. 

She asks if anyone wants to share something about the person that they introduce themselves to, and a few people raise their hands. You sigh slowly, resting your chin on your hand after you put your elbow on the desk. After a few people have shared, she goes over the syllabus, but you’re not paying attention.

Even though you’re not looking at him, the fact that you now know he’s sitting next to you, is the only thing you can focus on. You’ve never wished for a class to be over so fast in your life so that you can just get out of here without having to speak to him again. You sigh a bit, feeling like he’s watching you, but you refuse to look over at him to confirm that.

The longer your professor talks, the more uneasy you start to feel. You knew that the class wouldn’t last the whole time today since it was the first class, but you swear that time has slowed down. You see Ukai move a little bit closer to you in the corner of your eye, and you try to act like you didn’t see it.

“When’s your next class?” you hear him whisper, but you don’t answer, only responding with a quick side-eye. You turn your attention back to the front, and you sigh in annoyance, but that’s not enough to deter him because you feel a nudge at your desk. 

“Leave me alone,” you whisper, keeping your eyes forward.

“I will when you tell me.” You ball your hand into a fist, sighing again because you’re pretty sure he’s not going to mess with you anymore; figuring he just said that to get a rise out of you. You shake your head softly. It’s too fucking early for this. She’s starting to get toward the end of the syllabus, so you decide to order some food since you skipped breakfast this morning. You leave your phone on your desk while you put your laptop back into your bag, and when your eyes land on your desk, your phone is gone.

Your head immediately turns to the culprit, and he’s looking at the screen, but you can’t tell what he’s doing. “Are you a child?!” you grit, glancing at the front of the room before you try to reach for it. He’s quick to move away from you so that you can’t reach your phone, and right as your professor dismisses the class, he gives you your phone back.

You frown, thinking that he was going to put up more of a fight, and you notice how he steps closer to you when the other students are leaving the classroom, but there’s nowhere for you to move to. When the last student is out, you quickly make your way out, sliding past him when he puts distance between the two of you. 

You have a class in about another hour, so you order your food before you check to see if he did anything to your phone. Nothing looks different, and he cleared your apps, covering his tracks, so you’d have to do some digging to figure out what he did. You don’t bother to find it right now, trying not to concentrate on the fact that you will now be in the same room as Ukai.

You cross your fingers that he’ll drop the class, and you could also do that, but there’s no way you’d go through with it. You had left high school with high hopes that you would never see him again, but it’s just your shitty luck that you do. He made your life a living hell before college, and you were hoping that you could start fresh, leaving all of that behind.

But how long has he been here? You’ve been here a year already and you had no clue that he was here. And even if he was, your mom would’ve probably told you about it since she stays in touch with some of the other parents of your peers from high school. So, why were you unpleasantly surprised today?

You check to see how close your food is to being ready when you get a text. Your walking slows when you see Ukai’s name pop up, and seeing it allows you to figure out what he was doing with your phone. You swipe it away, shaking your head before you pick up the pace, but you falter when you see that he’s calling you.

You stop, stepping off to the side so that you’re not in the way of other people before you answer it. “God, what do you want?” you groan. 

“It’s only ten-thirty in the morning, and you’re already this grumpy?” he chuckles, and you ball your hand into a fist, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

“I’m blocking you,” you say.

“Aw, you don’t mean that, do you?” You can hear his voice more precisely this time, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming through the phone. You turn around to see him walking up to you with a smirk on his face, phone by his ear.

You hang up the phone, sighing heavily. “What do you want?” you repeat, way past annoyed right now, and when you look back at him, you see something flash in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can figure out what it was.

“Just give me fifteen minutes, okay?” He’s lost that teasing tone in his voice, and you chew on your lip softly while you contemplate before you finally give in. 

“Fine. I’m heading to the student union to get some food,” you tell him, hoping that this will finally get him to leave you alone. You start walking, and he happily steps in rhythm right next to you. It’s pretty silent for the first couple of feet you walk, and you expected him to continue the conversation, but he stays silent.

You definitely don’t have anything you want to say to him; well, in public at least. Your mind is racing as you walk, and you’re starting to wish that he would talk to you so that you can shut your thoughts out. You can’t help but think about how he treated you when you were younger, and how most of the time he was the aid in your bullying. 

As far as you’re concerned, you didn’t think he liked you, or either he loved to make your life a living hell, and his actions justified that. But what he’s doing now is completely baffling to you. You can’t help but scoff, rubbing over your head as you smile. Who knew that your day could be turned upside down in a matter of minutes?

“What’s so funny?” he asks, making you realize that you accidentally reacted to your thoughts out loud.

“So, did you transfer, or…?” you say, not wanting to answer the question.

“Nah, I was here last school year,” he answers, shoving his hands in his pockets. You nod softly, looking at the ground. The school isn’t that small, so you may have just never run into him. But on the other hand, the school isn’t massive either, so you’re a bit surprised that you haven’t seen him.

“I’m assuming you’re majoring in something dealing with agriculture?” you ask next, meeting his gaze, and the smile he gives you makes you feel too many things, and you don’t like it.

“Horticulture, specifically, yeah,” he tells you with a nod, looking at the ground before he looks at you again. “Now, how’d you know that?”

You choke a bit, clearing your throat as you look off to the side. “I mean, who didn’t? Farming was all you talked about in high school,” you try. It’s a horrible attempt at taking the heat off the fact that you know what he’s interested in, and you know there’s no way that it worked.

“You were listening to me in high school?” he questions, and the teasing tone in his voice increases your urge to punch him in the stomach.

“It’s not like I had a choice, you and your friends talked so fucking loud all of the time.” That you say with confidence because there’s a ton of truth to that statement. He’s always been obnoxious, but with his friends, it seemed like it would always multiply. Not seeing him was the best part of your high school career. 

He laughs a bit in surprise before he nods. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” One of the bigger classes must’ve gotten out because there are a lot more people around as you walk, forcing Ukai to move closer to you. You try to shy away, but there’s no way you can move without falling off the sidewalk, so you just bite your tongue when you feel his shoulder brush against yours.

“Alright, so how’s your schedule looking this semester?”

“Hectic to say the least,” you chuckle, sighing a bit as you think about your future workload. “So, I hope this class will be the least of my worries.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine, just don’t stress too much about it.”

You scoff. “Yeah, that’s a lot easier said than done.” When you get to the student union, he holds the door open for you, and you thank him softly, picking up your pace a little, but he falls in time with your steps.

You quickly glance at your phone, seeing that your order is ready, and you’re grateful for an excuse to get away from him. “Uh, well, my food is ready, so I should probably go.” You try to turn around as fast as you can, but he must notice that you’re trying to leave because he starts talking right when you finish.

“Do you have any other classes today?” he says quickly, and you stop, trying to hide your heavy sigh.

“No,” you lie, but that isn’t enough to let him drop the conversation because he speaks up again, and you wonder why you haven’t just walked away yet. 

“You mind if I join you while you eat?” That sounds like a horrible idea, so you promptly come up with an excuse that thankfully doesn’t sound forced.

“Oh, well, I’m probably gonna go sit in the library,” you say. “Wanna make sure I’m not gonna fall behind since I already have homework.” You feel like you might be playing it up too much, especially when he squints after he hears your words.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you’re trying to avoid me,” he infers, and you start to panic a little bit, trying to think about how to respond.

“I’m not. I promise.” You chuckle, waving your hand out right as you feel your phone vibrate with a text. “I’ve already made plans to meet up with my friend, so…” Perfect timing, you think in your head because if that text hadn’t come through, you don’t know what you would’ve said.

He smirks at you before he nods his head. “Okay, then. I’ll let you go.” You almost curl your body forward slightly in relief, but you hold that urge back. “It was good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you say tersely, giving him a tight smile. You awkwardly wave before you finally turn around and walk away to get your food. You don’t walk fast, but you do try to get out of there as soon as you can because you can feel his eyes on you without even having to look. 

It makes you feel a certain type of way that you don’t even want to try and tackle, so you hightail it out of there. Once you get outside, you feel like you can breathe again, but now you don’t know where to go. It’s not like you could sit inside the student union after lying to Keishin, so you look at the time on your phone to try and figure out where would be the best place to go.

Based on the time, there’s a building you could sit in and not have to worry about a lot of people being there, so you head on over there. You slide your headphones onto your head from around your neck and let the music take over the thoughts that you don’t want to hear right now as you walk.

“It’s only the beginning of the week, and you already look like you want it to be over.” Your forehead is pillowed by your forearms on the table, and you lift your head to set your chin on your arms. 

“I had a terrible surprise this morning,” you answer solemnly. You didn’t lie to Ukai entirely. You were meeting up with your friend, but it was after your second class, and you weren’t meeting her in the library. So, it was just a tiny lie. Luckily, you didn’t run into him anymore today, but you hate how you were on high alert the whole day.

You’ve never been more aware of your surroundings, looking around when you leave the building, and making sure you’re continuously looking around as you walked to your car. You could say that you’re being dramatic, but another part of you just wants to consider it “keeping your peace” since seeing Ukai again brought back painful memories.

“What? You tripped in front of a lot of people or what?” You sit up, sighing as you lean back in your chair.

“I saw someone from high school that I thought I’d never see again.” Your friend flips through her textbook, already having homework, as she shrugs.

“So? What’s so bad about that?”

“He made my life a living hell.” Your friend perks up at that, lifting her head to give you her full attention.

“Oh, it’s a ‘he’? Is he cute?” You give her a plain look, which makes her chuckle a little. “Okay, so I need a backstory. We’ve been friends for like a year, and I don’t think I’ve heard about this guy.”

And there’s a reason for that. You would much rather leave painful memories behind, but your luck says otherwise. “Well, I would prefer to not talk about a guy that made my life harder than needed,” you start with a sigh, “but today, he acted like everything from high school never happened.”

“What does that mean?”

“He was nice to me.” You can’t help but scoff a little, laughing because it sounds like the bare minimum, but he was nowhere near acting like that back then. “I thought he hated me or something.” 

“Why do you think he hates you?”

“Because he messed with me non-stop! He and his friends humiliated me as much as they could.”

“Are you sure that it was him that was messing with you or was he just in the background?” That makes you freeze, and you slump a little at her question. If you think about it, he’s never physically done or said anything to you, but the fact that he was there, and didn’t do anything to stop it was enough to convince you that he didn’t like you. And it was enough for you to not like him. 

“What did he say to you today?” your friend asks after you’re silent for a while. 

“He put his number in my phone, and he walked with me to the student union. He said he thought we were friends.” You rub your hand over your face, resting your top half on the table again. There’s so much confusion on a Monday, and you’ve barely been to all of your classes. 

“It doesn’t sound like he hates you to me.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s making me sound like I’m fucking crazy,” you say lightly, looking at what’s playing on the TV behind your friend. “I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to butter me up or something to try and make himself look good. And then he’ll make my life miserable again once I let him back in.”

“You’ve always been so dramatic,” your friend laughs. “I’m telling you right now, that I don’t think that’s the case. He definitely would’ve acted differently, right? Did he ever talk to you in high school?”

“Barely. I caught him staring at me all the fucking time. He sometimes tried to talk to me after his friends did something to me, but I never let him speak.” Your friend is a hundred percent invested in this story, all of her attention on you instead of her textbooks.

“Okay, give me a couple of instances where you were messed with,” she tells you after she laughs at your answer. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to re-live through some of those moments. 

You tell her about the time they constantly tripped you while you were walking to your seat in a class you shared with him. You tell her about the time they started rumors about you multiple times. Now, that you’re older, they weren’t that bad, but just the thought of people that stuff about you made you hate half of high school. 

You told her about all the times you heard them whispering, knowing that they were talking about you and feeling tears welling up in your eyes at the snickers you would hear behind you. You stop soon after, biting your lip to calm yourself before your friend asks where was Ukai in all of this.

“He never said anything, and like I said, he was always staring at me whenever I looked at him.” You tell her about the times he would come up to you after class, usually after the bullying, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak, darting out of the room before he could even get your name out.

“Maybe he was trying to apologize,” she offers. “I’m not saying that I’m condoning him sitting there and letting it happen, but I don’t think he hates you like you say he does. At all.”

“Well, he had a lot of time to apologize, and he never did.” Yeah, you’re still hung up about it, and you don’t care if you sound like a child. He was a bystander and still dared to call them his friends and hang out with them after what they did to you.

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but if you wanna hear him out, I don’t blame you. But if you don’t, then you could always drop the class and find another one to fill your requirement,” she says. “But, I know you’re not gonna drop, so it’s up to you,” she tacks on, making you frown at her. She smiles at you before she goes back to your textbook, and you can’t help but copy it, standing up and making your way toward your room, but not without playfully shoving her first.

You spend the rest of your night torn between completely ignoring your friend or taking her advice. Not having homework is a good and bad thing because you don’t have anything to distract you from your thoughts. You kill the time by watching a show that you’ve already seen a bunch of times, scrolling through your phone while you sit on your bed. 

Your friend has a point, but there’s a part of you that’s spent a while trying to lock that part of your life away, and you don’t want to go through the trouble of opening it back up again. You don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it when everything you’ve suppressed comes flying out.

When your eyelids start to feel heavy, you decide to call it a night, hoping in the shower before you do your face routine. When you get in bed, you toss and turn for a little bit, hoping that your dilemma stays out of your dreams.

Wednesday rolls around faster than you’d like, and you find yourself in that class once again in the same seat you picked on the first day of classes. You keep your headphones on as you get comfortable, having about fifteen minutes before class starts. You can feel yourself getting antsier as the class time approaches, wondering if Ukai dropped the class. 

You shrug off your thoughts, questioning in your head why you’re so worried about him in the first place. It doesn’t do much though because you feel your heart start racing when you can see someone sitting next to you in your peripheral. You don’t look, keeping your eyes on your phone, but you decide to switch your attention to your laptop.

You think the professor talks starting, so you turn your headphones off, sliding them off your head. “Good morning.” You hear it almost as soon as you take the headphones off your ears, and it nearly scares you.

“Morning,” you reply softly, glancing to the side to confirm that Ukai is sitting next to you. 

“How was your day yesterday?” he asks, and you shake your head a little as you shrug.

“Uh, it was pretty okay, I guess. It’ll be more hectic next week once my labs start,” you tell him, and it feels weird to be making small talk with him. Your friend’s words echo in your head as you ask him about his day yesterday.

“Mine was pretty okay, too. You know the first week of classes is always dragging.” You give him a nod, deciding to fully turn your head to look at him, but when you see that he’s staring right at you, you quickly look back at your laptop. 

Your professor starts talking, so you attempt to pay attention even though you’re more nervous than you’d like to be. Right as she finishes the discussion about what you’re going to be doing today, someone walks into the class. 

No one notices because they’ve all started talking to themselves in the groups that they’re in, and since you’re sitting in the back right by the door, she catches your attention. You look over her, commenting in your head how pretty her outfit is, but then Ukai quickly averts your attention to him.

“You did the readings, right?” he asks, and you squint at him.

“Did you?” you say right back, and he smiles a little which makes you think about how you’re feeling about that. 

“I did,” he answers confidently before giving you a synopsis of the reading much to your surprise. “I can’t slack off like I did in high school, so I’m trying to start early so I don’t get behind.” His words leave you a little stunned, but before you can even try and form a response, the girl who walked in late walks up to the both of you.

“You don’t mind if I work with you, do you?” She’s only looking at Ukai when she asks, and she must’ve walked up to the professor and had her fill her in on what you’re doing.

“Well, I’m working with her already, so,” he answers, and you make a face when it looks like disdain appears across her face.

“Oh, well, the professor said I could join a group,” she responds, and you can feel the air taking an awkward turn, but you have no idea what to say. Ukai sighs a little, glancing at you before he looks at her.

“Sure, one more doesn’t hurt.” She smiles widely before moving one of the desks closer to him before sitting down, and he leans towards you, which makes you lean back a little. “Are you okay with this?” he whispers.

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine,” you mumble back quickly, overwhelmed by how close he is. It doesn’t look like your words convinced him, but she’s talking to him again, so he doesn’t get a chance to make sure. While he’s talking to her, filling her in on what you’re supposed to be doing, you pull up your annotations from the readings you had to read for this class.

For about ten minutes, absolutely no work gets done because every time Ukai tries to talk to you, she interrupts with questions that have nothing to do with the work. And she’s only talking to him. You have an annoyed look on your face as you stare at your empty word document. Ukai seems to be just annoyed as you, and you truly don’t know why she’s acting like this. You don’t even know her.

You figure that you’re probably not going to get any work done, and by the conversations you’re overhearing from the other groups, they’re not necessarily talking about their group work either. It seems like there’s a lull in the conversation between her and Ukai, so you speak up.

“I like your outfit,” you say, giving her a small smile.

“I didn’t ask.” 

Keishin freezes, his fingers no longer typing on his keyboard, and your face drops. She’s giving you an ugly look, and you’re about to turn and face her, but he stops you by asking you some questions about the work. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t decipher, but after that, he barely pays attention to her.

Every time she tries to talk, he talks over her, and it’s starting to get to you. “Ukai, it’s okay,” you say softly, and you don’t need to say it that loud because he’s practically in your space, moving over whenever she moved closer to him.

“No, it’s not,” he grits, and you never knew that fifty minutes could be so long. You managed to get some of your document filled, and you start to pack your stuff up once there are about five minutes left in class. You wish you could be out of here sooner. The girl continues to talk now that Ukai isn’t occupied anymore, and you can’t even bring yourself to look their way.

You feel a pit forming in your stomach at what she said to you, her attitude not sitting right with you, but you don’t want to say anything to her. The other part of you just wants to get out of her, and you refuse to let her ruin the rest of your day. Your professor lets the class out a little early once she sees that everyone is finishing up, and since your backpack is already packed, you quickly stand.

Ukai stands up almost at the same time you do, way faster. “So, I was wondering–” The girl is standing as well, and she’s still talking to him. 

“I didn’t ask.” You choke a bit at Ukai’s sudden response, turning your head to look away as you try to hold in your laugh, but not before you can catch her stunned reaction. You jump when he grabs your hand and pulls you out of the room ahead of everyone else. You have to walk a little faster to keep up with him, and he doesn’t let your hand go until you’re both well away from the building.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slowing his steps.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you say. “I’m a little pissed, yeah, but I’m not stressed over it.” He doesn’t say anything in return, and the silence allows you to remember that he’s still holding your hand. 

You feel your face grow warm as you slightly tug, and he feels it, letting go of your hand immediately. “Sorry about that,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say lightly even though your body isn’t taking it so lightly. You grab your hand gently, rubbing over your palm as if you’re missing the feeling of his hand against yours. 

“So, it looks like you’re done for the day,” he says without missing a beat, and you frown a bit before you quickly remember that you lied to him about your schedule. 

“Oh, yeah,” you respond slowly, wondering if you want to come clean about it. “I would be, but I do have another class in an hour. My professor canceled the class on Monday for some reason.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this, and there’s a small part of you that regrets it the moment you do.

“Really? What class is it?”

“Uh, quantitative chemistry.”

“Oof, sounds hard,” he grimaces, and you chuckle a little, shaking your head a little.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad, hopefully. Math wasn’t always my best, but it’s stuff I already learned so I should be fine.” You try not to focus on how close he is to you as you walk, and you know there’s no reason for him to be since the foot traffic isn’t bad. “Do you have anything else today?” you ask, trying to use conversation as a way to keep your thoughts quiet.

“Yeah, I have a stats class in an hour as well,” he sighs.

“God, I do not miss taking that. I’m glad I’m done with it.”

“Lucky you then,” he jests, nudging you with his shoulder. “I absolutely suck at math, so this won’t be fun.” You open your mouth getting ready to say that you remember that from high school, but you quickly shut it. You don’t need to expose yourself anymore.

“It might not be that bad, you’re given the formulas on the exams anyways.” 

“Well, if I ever have trouble, I know to call you.”

“Right,” you mumble. The conversation thankfully stops without being awkward, but you don’t want to listen to your head right now. There’s so much going on, your brain is trying to process too much, so you try to think about where you’re going to kill time until your next class.

“Are you gonna be getting food again today?” he asks after a while even though you’re not walking anywhere near the student union. Which makes you notice that he’s just been walking wherever you’re going.

You shake your head. “No, I ate a pretty big breakfast today, so I’m just gonna find somewhere to sit while I wait for my next class.” 

“You mind if I join you?” You hesitate for a split second before you answer.

“If you want to,” you say, leaving it at that as you try not to reveal how you’re feeling. But hell, you don’t even know how you’re feeling about this.

You find a place outside since it’s nice and not too hot to sit at, and it’s an equal distance for both of you from your next class. Since you already have assignments due for your classes, you try to get a headstart on it, so you pull out your notes and laptop to get started on that. 

Ukai sits across from you, and it takes everything in you to not look at him. He’s on his phone for a while that you can see from your peripheral, but then he’s on his laptop soon after that. You get into your work, finding a groove, and you’re almost done with most of it when you hear someone call Ukai’s name.

Both of you look up, and your heart drops when your eyes land on the owner of the voice. You quickly put your head down, hoping that your undivided attention on your laptop screen will cause him not to notice you. You swallow heavily as they greet each other, and you look at the time to see that you still have twenty minutes until your class starts.

You try to pack up some of your stuff since you’re done anyway, but then you feel your body run cold when Ukai says your name. “You remember her, right?” You hesitantly look up, and you can feel all of the emotions that you’ve been trying to suppress bubble over.

The guy says your name again in disbelief before recognition goes across his face. “Wow, it is you! I almost didn’t recognize you,” he laughs, and you wait for it. “You aren’t as ugly as you were in high school.” There it is.

You barely smile at him because there’s no way you can laugh that off, and you see Ukai frown deeply, turning to the guy, you start to close your laptop. “I’m gonna head out,” you start, and Ukai tries to stop you, but the guy won’t shut up about how much you’ve changed, calling you the names he called you back then, and you can feel yourself starting to break down.

“Don’t leave,” Ukai says, catching your hand before you can put your stuff in your bag. 

“Yeah, we have to stay and catch up,” the guy buds in, and you know there isn’t a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You can go,” Ukai orders, keeping his hand on yours, and this situation is so awkward and embarrassing, but your body is frozen at Keishin’s words. The guy tries to laugh Ukai’s sudden change in attitude off, not even the slightest put off by him. 

“Come on, man. This is hilarious, no? You remember how much she–”

“I remember how much I wanted to beat your ass,” Ukai states. “Now leave before I do.” You try to keep your breathing even as you look around. No one was around to hear the conversation, but some people are looking as they walk to wherever they are going. The guy stops smiling, looking at Ukai like he’s grown a second head.

“Are you serious right now?” the guy questions incredulously as he looks at you. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling this bitch–”

Ukai is on his feet in a split second, grabbing the guy by the collar of his shirt. “You have two seconds to move your ass before I do it for you. You apologize to her now, and I never want to see your face again.” 

Your body is shaking so badly, you feel like you could cry, and you flinch a little when Ukai tightens his grip on his shirt, shaking him just a little. “I’m not playing around here. Apologize. Now.”

“Ukai, it’s okay, he doesn’t have to–” you try, but he doesn’t even look at you, pulling the guy closer to him and nearly off of his feet.

“Yes. He. Does.” 

“Okay, okay. Just chill,” the guy pleads, and Keishin lets his grip loose just a little, but he doesn’t let him go. “I’m sorry, okay?” At this point, you don’t care for his half-assed apology, but the high school part of you is feeling a rush from hearing him say those words.

“Mean it,” he says angrily, and the guy turns to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but that doesn’t satisfy Ukai.

“For?”

“For messing with you. I’m sorry for what I just said. I was just fucking around in high school, and I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I promise,” he rushes out, and you’d never thought you’d hear that from him. You’re so overwhelmed with emotions right now, that you don’t say anything, but Ukai lets the guy go with a rough shove.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” he hisses, and the guy fixes his shirt, giving Ukai a searing glare, but he walks off without another word. You take a deep breath when he disappears out of sight, and you jump a bit when Ukai’s next to you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe, finally looking at Ukai, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so worried. His hands are on your shoulders, and you give him a smile to try and lessen his worries. “I’m fine. I just thought I’d never see him again,” you say with an airy chuckle, and when you start to relax, he lets his hands slide off of you, but you’re still a little frazzled to notice how long they take to leave your body.

Ukai goes to say something, but you check the time on your phone to see that you don’t have a lot of time until your next class. “Oh, we have to go,” you say softly, packing up your stuff. Ukai stands there, watching you, and you turn to him once you have your backpack on your shoulders. “Thanks, Ukai,” you say softly.

“Of course,” he says just as softly, and you return the smile he gives you. “You go on ahead, I’ll see you on Friday.” You nod, walking off, and he watches you go. He sighs as he starts to pack his stuff up. There’s so much he wanted to say to you. 

Maybe next time.

You’re a month into the semester, and your work is already stockpiling. You try to get ahead of it, but it always ends up catching up to you. You’ve piled up on your classes this semester, and you’re starting to hate your past self for doing that. The class you have with Ukai is the only class where the workload isn’t the heaviest, but it still takes a hefty amount of time to do the work for it. 

The readings that you have to read before class have gotten longer, and you just barely have enough time to read them. You’re dragging ass when you get to class on Monday, feeling like you might fall asleep at your desk when you sit down. You’re surprised you managed to even remember bringing all of your stuff for class today, and Ukai sits next to you as you slowly take your stuff out of your bag.

“Rough night?” you barely hear him ask, and it takes you a while to blink, your eyelids feeling like they’re tied to weights.

“Something like that,” you whisper before you rub your eyes. “My workload is a bitch especially with midterms coming up, so I’m not getting a lot of sleep.” You yawn as you rest your chin on your hand. He doesn’t say anything else, and the professor starts talking, but he keeps his eyes on you while she does.

You rub your hand over your face, even drinking water to try and keep yourself awake. You feel like you might cry when she announces that you’re going to be presenting in front of the class about the readings you’re doing. Ukai watches you make a face at her words, and then he notices that you’re still working on things all the while. 

But when the class breaks off to do work, you immediately start talking about the readings that you had to do for the class. He wants to ask about how you’re doing, but he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. His concern is only fueled when you keep having to stop to think about what you’re saying. He ends up doing most of the work, which he doesn’t mind, and it seems like class flies by in a blur. 

You and Ukai will have to present at least twice this semester, the first presentation being next week, which means you’ll have to get started on your papers now. When class is dismissed, he waits for you to pack up your stuff, and he can tell that you’re really tired especially since you’re not walking as fast as you usually do.

“So, are you going to be free any time to work on this?” he asks you once you’re both walking outside. 

“It’s gonna have to be at the end of the week. I’m gonna try and get as much work done as I can so I can focus on this. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I can make it work.”

“We can try and start on it now while we wait for our next class if you want to,” you offer, and you both find a spot inside this time since it looks like it might rain, which doesn’t help your grogginess. Ukai sits next to you, but you’re too tired to freak out about it. He starts talking about the readings that you have to do, and what you could potentially write about in your paper.

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve chosen a pretty quiet spot, or if it’s his voice, but something starts to put you to sleep. Ukai can see your head bobbing every time you doze off, but he doesn’t say anything, continuing to talk about the material, and while you start to doze off again, he lets his hand gently guide it to his shoulder.

You don’t protest, going without a fight, and he looks down at you, only stopping when he realizes he’s been staring at you too long. He continues working, making sure not to move his arm too much so that he doesn’t wake you, and he opens up another document, typing up stuff that you could add to your paper.

When it’s almost time for you to go, he hesitates to wake you up because you look like you need sleep, but he knows you’d kill him for not waking you up in time for class. He gently shakes you, and you wake up with a start, looking around. You calm down instantly when you look at Ukai, looking at his laptop screen before sighing.

“God, Ukai, I am so sorry,” you say, rubbing your head. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“Don’t sweat it. I wrote down some ideas for you to start with,” he tells you. “I’ll send it to you later. You gotta get to class.” 

“Thank you so much. I owe you.” You don’t have to put your stuff up since you didn’t even get the chance to take anything out, and you stand up, stretching when you stand up fully. You check the time on your phone, putting a little pep in your step since you feel a bit energized as you start to walk away. You turn to wave to him as you leave, and the smile doesn’t leave his face even when you’re gone.

“Should’ve taken a picture,” he mumbles.

~

When you get home, you all but drag yourself to your room. You change your clothes before flopping down on your bed, and sleep is calling your name, but if you go to sleep now, you’ll mess up your schedule. You lift yourself when you hear a knock on your door while you let your roommate know that she can come in.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” she questions the moment she walks in. She sits down at your desk with a feigned stern look, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll try tonight. I just have a lot of work this week. And now I have to write a paper to present with Ukai next week,” you groan, and your roommate raises her eyebrows.

“Ukai? Haven’t heard his name since you mentioned him,” she says. “How’s all that going?”

“It’s going, I guess. I don’t know what you want me to say.” You think about how your head was on his shoulder earlier, and you feel your face start to warm, and your roommate notices the change.

“Yeah, okay. You’re not fooling me. What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “I think,” you add softly, ultimately sighing in defeat, and your roommate moves to sit next to you on your bed, very invested. “I mean, we’ve been hanging on a lot during our breaks in-between classes. And I fell asleep on his shoulder today,” you say, grimacing at the thought.

“So, what? Do you like him or something?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I kinda had a crush on him in high school, but it was mostly bittersweet because he was always there whenever I was being messed with. Speaking of, I saw one of the guys a while ago.”

“What?” your roommate says, her mouth open. “What happened?”

“Ukai threatened him and had him apologize to me,” you laugh which you can do now that the situation is behind you.

“Shit, girl, you don’t think he’s into you too, right?”

“No,” you respond quickly with a shake of your head. “There’s no way he likes me now or back then. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t say that,” she tries. “I feel like there might be something there.”

“Maybe,” you say reluctantly. “I just don’t wanna read anything wrong.”

“I don’t think you are. I feel like he might have a thing for you. He has had a thing for you.” You try not to fall too deep into her words, but with the way he’s been acting, it doesn’t sound totally out of the ordinary. “Just keep me updated, I’m invested in your love story now.”

“Don’t call it that!” You shove her playfully as both of you laugh, and she gets off your bed, heading to the door. 

“Don’t stay up too late, okay?” she says before she closes the door. Once it gets quiet, you begrudgingly decide to start on your work, so you move to your desk, starting on your chemistry homework since that’s what’s taking you so much time.

You play some music to help you focus, and you try to get into study mode. Which takes you a lot longer than it should because your head is focused on a certain someone. You groan softly as you let your head fall on your desk. Maybe if you think about it now, it’ll help you focus.

You definitely had some feelings for Ukai back then. You thought he was really cute, he actually is still very much cute. He looks even better now than he did in high school. But you were never confident enough to even start a conversation with him all through high school. You shared the same classes, but you just kept it to yourself. Not even your high school friends knew how you felt about him.

But then those feelings started to fade a bit when the guys he hung out with started to bully you. You mostly felt anger at first, but then it turned to hurt and a little bit of betrayal because the guy you liked wasn’t doing anything to stop what was happening. And then you hated yourself for being a damsel in distress. Once the bullying seemed to die down by the time you were in your last year, you were “over” him.

You didn’t have nearly as many feelings for him, they were still there, but you sort of suppressed them. And then you attempted to get rid of them when you got to college because you were under the notion that you would never see him again. But of course, you had to run into him, and now those feelings are starting to bloom again.

You never once thought that he reciprocated his feelings, and you never talked to him because it seemed like the only time he was going to say something to you was after his friends did, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you say to yourself, picking up your pencil and trying to get back to where you were. Right as you’re about to start another problem, your phone stops playing music and then your ringtone follows. You pick it up to see who’s calling, and you feel your heart start racing when you see that it’s Ukai.

You were thinking about him, and now he’s calling you. You don’t wait to answer it, putting it on speaker as you set the phone back down. “You cut off my music,” you say lightly, and you bite your lip a little when you hear his laugh come through the phone.

“Sorry. I just wanted to check on you. Making sure you’re giving yourself a break,” he says, and your roommate’s words start to play in your mind.

“I actually haven’t been working for that long,” you say, but then you look at the clock, seeing how much time has passed.

“Really? When did you start?” he questions, and when you go silent, he chuckles again. “Okay, so that means you need to take a break.”

“Okay, fine,” you relent. “Is that all you were calling about?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.” You don’t know how to respond to that, his words making you silent again. “I was having trouble focusing so I thought you might be able to help me.”

“And how would I be able to do that?” you ask, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“Don’t know,” he answers, which makes you roll your eyes. “I guess I could try and listen to music like you.”

“You should, it helps.”

“I’d rather talk to you,” he replies almost too fast.

“But I don’t think it’s helping you,” you chuckle. “It just sounds like I’m distracting you.”

“I’m okay with that.” You put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. What is happening right now? 

“So, you called me just to distract you then?” you ask after your quick freak out.

“Yeah,” he answers quickly. “Work doesn’t seem so bad now that I’m talking to you.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Well, obviously. A lot of people would rather be doing anything else other than work.”

He goes silent for a second, and you’re about to ask him if he’s still there, but he talks before you can. “Am I being too much of a distraction?”

You let a shy smile appear on your face as you shake your head even though he can’t see you. “No, you’re not. I like talking to you,” you say, feeling your face warm.

“Good. I like talking to you too,” he says, and you quietly laugh, but you stop the urge to kick your feet like you’re in high school. Time seems to fly by as you talk to Ukai, and you’re having such a good time that you don’t even notice that it has until your roommate knocks on your door.

“Hey, girl, I was checking on you. You haven’t come out of your room,” she says, peeking her head into your room.

“I’m taking breaks, don’t worry,” you tell her, hoping that she won’t see that you’re on the phone with Ukai. “I’ll probably finish up here soon.” That seems to be enough to convince her because she gives you a smile and a goodnight before she closes the door.

“Sorry, that was my roommate,” you tell him.

“Don’t worry about it. Glad to know you have someone that’s making sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, she’s like my mom,” you laugh.

“I didn’t mean to keep you on the phone this long, you probably got no work done,” he says.

“I actually did. So, talking to you helped after all.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes. “...I don’t wanna hang up,” he whispers after he goes silent, and in your head, you agree. 

“Well,” you start. “I could call you after I get out of the shower,” you offer, and your eyes dart around to the things on your desk as you wait for his answer.

“Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Okay, well, I’ll talk to you soon.” You hang up the phone, and you have to get it out, so you do a little happy dance before you calm yourself down. You jump violently when your door burst open.

“I knew you were talking to him!” your roommate yells. “You can’t fool me!”

“Thank you for giving me a heart attack,” you sigh, grabbing your phone and standing up.

“So, what’s going on now? A date?” she presses, and you scoff as you shake your head.

“Absolutely nothing of the sort. I’m getting in the shower,” you say, pushing her out of your room so you can get ready.

“Yeah, okay. You better keep me posted,” she tells you again, and you shake your head before closing the door. 

You shower quickly, washing your face, and brushing your teeth before you get in bed. You wait for a little just in case he might be showering too, and it takes you a while to even call him at that. Your finger hovers over the call button in your recents until you finally press it. It doesn’t even ring twice before he picks up.

“I missed you.”

“It hasn’t even been that long,” you say, a laugh leaving your chest against your will.

“Doesn’t matter,” he tells you softly as you start to get comfortable. “You laying down?”

“Yes, I am. I might fall asleep on you if I’m being honest,” you say, a yawn following right after.

“That’s okay. You need to get your sleep.” 

Ukai ends up doing most of the talking which is fine by him, and he can’t help but smile to himself when he hears your responses turning into soft hums. A part of him wishes he would’ve video called you so that he could see you, but he’ll take this for now. He stops talking once he can hear you softly snoring, but he doesn’t hang up. 

Sleep is right behind him, so he rolls over on his side, getting more comfortable. “Goodnight,” he tells you even though you can’t hear him, and it’s not long until he’s asleep himself.

You had gotten enough work done this week that you had enough time to work on your presentation with Ukai. You decided to meet up at his place this weekend, and you feel so conflicted with yourself as you stand in front of your mirror trying to figure out what to wear.

“Why am I being like this?” you mumble to yourself. You’ve been trying to tell yourself not to worry about it and just put on some clothes, but there’s a part of you that has too much of a say to let you do just that. You’ve put on and taken off so many clothes, the pile on your bed and floor only increasing. 

You don’t have time for this, having only about twenty minutes before you have to get there. Ukai lives pretty close to campus while you have to drive back and forth between your apartment and campus. That’s something you and your roommate hate, so you’re currently looking for a new place for next school year. 

You groan out loud as the voice in your head tells you that you don’t like the outfit you have on. You jump when you hear a knock on your door, and the familiar sight of your roommate peeking her head in fills your eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, but she’s always been good at reading you, and she frowns before pushing the door open further. Her eyebrows crease when she sees that your room looks like your closet exploded. 

“You’re worried about what you’re wearing? You going somewhere special or something?” she questions instantly, but even the question doesn’t give you enough time to come up with a lie, because she quickly puts two and two together. “Don’t tell me you’re going on a date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasize. “We’re just working on a presentation we have to do on Monday.”

“Well, where are you meeting him?” she asks, and you look away from her, hesitant to answer. “His place?” she says when you don’t respond, and your reaction to the next question is all she needs to know the answer. “This is news to me! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I knew you were gonna make a big deal about it, and I didn’t wanna psych myself out.”

“Okay, okay. Relax, y/n,” she says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I won’t make a big deal about it because it isn’t if you think about it. It’s just two people working on a project,” she offers, and that perspective does make you feel better. “It’s only a big deal if you make it, and it’s not like it’s gonna be awkward. You both have been in close proximity before,” she adds, and you admit in your head that she’s right.

“I guess you have a point,” you say, but you’re still looking around at all of the clothes you’ve put on. 

“But, I can help you with an outfit,” she smiles, and you roll your eyes. 

“You just said it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t dress up a little. You’re going out, why wouldn’t you?” she says, and you chuckle a bit, starting to consider if her words are a contradiction to what she just said, but you let her do it anyway. 

While she’s going through your clothes, you quickly text Ukai to tell him that you’re running a little late, and you can’t help but smile when he responds almost instantly telling you it’s no big deal. Maybe you are overthinking this whole thing. 

“Okay, here ya go.” You look up to see her holding one of your worn t-shirts, and some shorts, but when you look at which ones she’s holding, you put your hands on your hips.

“I am not wearing those shorts,” you tell her, taking the shirt from her and slipping it on. 

“Why not? It’s hot outside, you don’t wanna be sweaty when you get there,” she tries, but you’re not buying it.

“I only wear those around the house,” you argue.

“And you will be around the house! His house,” she says, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have time for this, but you know that you won’t be able to pick out anything else to wear.

“Fine. I’m only putting them on because I don’t have time,” you say, taking them from her, and she walks out to let you change into them. They’re not that short, but they’re short enough, and seeing that you only have about ten minutes to leave, you can’t waste time debating over what to wear.

You put your shoes on, making sure that you have everything before putting your backpack on. You walk out, tugging on the shorts when you feel like they’re starting to ride up, and you all but glare at your roommate as you walk towards the door. 

“Have fun!” she beams, and you squint your eyes at her.

“Mm-hmm,” you mumble. “I’ll be back later tonight.” You both say goodbye, and you close the door, locking it behind you, putting some pep in your step on your way to your car.

You know where his apartment is, so you make your way over there, and you try to repeat your roommate’s words in your head when you feel yourself starting to get nervous. You know there’s no reason for you to be nervous, but you can’t help it. You know that you’re feelings for him are starting to come back, and there’s a part of you that’s trying to fight it, but so far, suppressing things hasn’t been the easiest thing to do.

Your roommate swears that he’s into you, which doesn’t really help your case, but those words alone are enough to make you sweat. You don’t know how you would feel if he felt the same way. You’ve felt something for him for almost all of high school, and if you think about it, those feelings never really left when you got to college. 

You text him as soon as you park, and he meets you outside of his apartment. “Sorry, I’m running late,” you tell him when you get to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and you follow him into the building and up the stairs to his apartment. You pick at your phone case as you will your heart to stop racing because you know it’s not from taking the stairs. 

You follow him inside, and you look around, taking in the room. He mentioned having a roommate, but he said he wouldn’t be here while you guys were working. You take your shoes off once you get in, and you see that he already has everything set up on the dining table. It almost has the same layout as your apartment except it’s much nicer. In the back of your head, you think to mention this place to your friend and see if she’d like it.

“Okay, so I’ve already finished my paper, but I wanted you to read over it just to make sure that ours don’t overlap,” he says when he sits down. 

You sit down in the chair next to him, taking your backpack off so that you can get your laptop out. “That sounds good, but I’ll admit I haven’t written most of it,” you admit shyly, and he waves you off.

“That’s okay. It shouldn’t take you that long anyway,” he reassures, and you pull up the half-written document. You read over his, and you’re relieved that he ended up talking about something completely different from yours. You tell him what you want to talk about for your presentation, and he helps you out by pulling up the reading and offering what parts of it you could pull from. 

Writing your paper takes about an hour, and then you both work on the PowerPoint slides you have to have with questions to ask the class about the readings. Your stomach grumbles suddenly once you’re finishing up, and that’s when you remember that you forgot to eat while you were panicking about what to wear.

“Sorry,” you laugh, and he laughs under his breath.

“I’m getting hungry too,” he says. “There are places around here that we could eat at if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” You both put your shoes on, and you follow him out onto the street, and there’s a bunch of places that are within walking distance where you could eat. You don’t care where to eat, so you agree on the first place that he offers. You’ve never been there before, but Ukai reassures you that it’s good. You both talk about anything and everything as you walk to the place, and when you get inside, it’s super packed.

“I guess it is dinner time,” he says as he takes the place in. “We can just take it to-go if that’s okay with you?” he offers, and you nod, in no mood to oppose as you look at how many people are in here. Ukai orders first, and instead of paying, he turns to you. “What do you want?” he asks, and you tell him, but then he’s repeating your order to the person at the register, and you realize what he’s doing.

“Ukai, you don’t have to pay,” you try, but he just shrugs you off. You try to memorize the price as you both move to the side while you wait for your food. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Seriously, y/n. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you again, but you don’t look very convinced. “How about you pay me back by helping me with my stats homework?”

“That doesn’t sound like a fair trade.”

“It does to me. I didn’t do well on the first exam, and I need some serious help,” he explains, and you decide that he’s not going to let you pay him back, so you give up.

“Fine. I’ll help you out then.” The smile he gives you makes your heart flutter, and you don’t get much time to take in how you feel because your food is ready. 

You walk back to his apartment, and you silently thank your friend for picking out shorts because even though the sun is starting to go down, the air is still really warm. You aren’t walking that fast, so luckily you’re not a sweating mess when you get back to his apartment. 

You push your work aside so that you can eat at the table, and he puts on a show that he’s been watching for a while. You’ve never seen it, and when you tell him, he looks at you like you’ve offended him terribly. He starts the show over for you, and it seems like a pretty good show, and you make a note of the name so you can continue to watch it. 

You finish eating in the middle of the first season, and you both move to the couch so you can finish it. Ukai tells you that he’ll start on the work once it’s over, and you wonder if he actually means that. Your focus on the show starts to waver when you notice how close he’s sitting to you. He’s wearing shorts, so when his leg brushes against yours, it sends goosebumps across your skin. You try to pay attention because you don’t want to miss anything, but it’s even more difficult when he places his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

You don’t think it’s a cliche move because you look at him from the corner of your eye, and he’s completely engrossed in the show even though he’s seen it probably a million times. You realize how tense you are, and you try to relax, but that means you’d be relaxing into him, and you don’t want to make anything awkward. 

You decide to rub over your arms since it’ll keep you from touching him. “Are you cold?” he asks, and you turn your head to him quickly.

“No, no. I’m fine,” you say with a shake of your head, and you quickly turn back to the TV, but you can see him looking over you, so you put your hands on your lap. He finally follows your gaze, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The last episode of the season plays, and Ukai groans loudly. “Guess I have to do my homework now,” he says to your surprise. You guess he was serious about actually doing his work. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” you ask, standing up and feeling relieved that you’re not sitting directly next to him anymore.

“Yeah, my room’s right there,” he says, pointing at the right door. He’s been fighting it since you got here, but he watches you walk away, and his eyes slide up your legs. He can see some of your ass peeking out from your shorts before you pull them down, and he sighs softly to himself as he diverts his eyes. 

He turns his head quickly before he stands and turns the TV off. He sits down at the table while he gets his stuff out, and he hears you come back into the room. You sit down next to him, and he shows you one of the problems that he’s struggling with. You move your seat closer to his so that you don’t have to lean over, and he immediately thinks about how good you smell.

He noticed when he was sitting next to you, and that’s when he also noticed that he had put his arm behind you. He didn’t move his arm because he didn’t want it to be awkward, but he had to strongly fight the urge to pull you into him. He felt his hair stand up on end whenever he accidentally brushed against you, and the entire time he thought about if he should say something to you.

“Keishin.” His eyes snap to yours, realizing that he was just staring at his notebook. “Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I just got lost in thought,” he says, giving a smile so that he doesn’t have to explain that he was daydreaming about you.

“Don’t worry about the exam. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“Of course, I will. I have you to help me,” he says, thankful that you think he’s stressed about the exam. His smile widens when yours does, and he feels so much right now that he almost opens his mouth, but then you’re turning your attention back to the work. So, he clears his thoughts and decides to focus on his work too.

He’s relieved when he realizes that he’s not doing as bad as he thought, he was just having some trouble remembering when to do what. You have him go over it multiple times, and it helps, and when you think he’s ready, you have him try some practice problems.

He’s definitely nervous to try them out, but your reassurance is what gets him to try them. You busy yourself with some other classwork, and he’s grateful because he doesn’t know what he’d be able to do if you were watching him. He makes sure to check over his work, even putting his work through the calculator more than once to make sure that he’s getting the same answer as before.

He lets you know that he’s finished, and his professor added the answers to the questions, so you look over his work and the answers. He fiddles with his pencil in nervousness and anticipation as he watches you check. It feels like it takes forever and it almost kills him, but then you finally look up at him.

“You did really well! There’s a couple that you messed up on, but other than that, I’d say that you’d got this stuff down.” He takes a breath of relief, running his hand down his chest as he leans back in his seat.

“Thank God,” he breathes. 

“You just have to trust yourself. You know what you’re doing, just don’t get nervous,” you tell him. “I know when I do that, I end up freaking myself out so much that I start to forget things.”

“Thank you so much. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s definitely not something I understood at first, so I’m happy to help.” At your words, for some reason, he feels like you might be about to leave, and he selfishly doesn’t want that to happen.

“Do you mind checking over my work again? I wanna go through some more just in case,” he tries, and he tightens his grip on his pencil, hoping you say yes.

“Of course. While you’re working, I’m getting work done too, so it’s a win-win,” you answer, and he’s never felt more elated. He nods, getting to work on more problems, and you switch your attention back to the work you were doing. 

You get up to go to the bathroom again, and you stretch when you do, and Ukai’s eyes catch on your shorts again. He diverts his eyes as soon as you walk out of his line of sight, and he shakes his head. Focus. He sighs, getting back on track, and finishes the problem with ease. He gets to the next one though, and he’s stuck.

He tries to do it himself, but when he feels like he’s not doing something right, he stops so that he doesn’t get too far ahead of himself. Luckily, you come back when he stops, so he asks you right before you sit back down.

“I just wanna make sure I’m starting this right,” he says, and you put your hand on the back of his chair before you lean down to see what he’s doing. You lean down a little bit more to look at his work, and he holds the urge to flinch when your shirt brushes against his ear. He takes a deep breath in, your scent filling his nose, and he desperately wants to know what it is. 

He thinks it might be like shea butter or something but before he can get a chance to investigate further, you break him out of his thoughts. “Yeah, you’re fine. Looks good to me,” you say, and he makes the mistake of turning to look up at you.

He was going to say something, but the words die in his throat when he looks at your face. He gets lost in your eyes and the curve of your lips, and he can’t look away. He looks back at your eyes, and to his surprise, you’re looking at his lips too. He has half a mind to just say fuck it and lean in, but then he feels you rub at his back.

“Have more confidence in yourself, Keishin,” you say, smiling at him before you move to sit back down. He’s glad that there doesn’t seem to be any awkward air between the two of you, and he realizes that his heart is racing when he looks back at his work. It feels like the motion of your hand rubbing his back is burned into his skin, and he would give anything to feel it again.

Ukai yawns as he finishes the last of the problems, and he passes the notebook to you. He rubs over his eyes as you look over them, and it doesn’t take you long to look through them. “You did great. You got all of them right,” you say with a yawn.

“I guess we better call it a night,” he says around a laugh that you copy, but then he looks at the time. “Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you here so late.”

You blink sleepily as you yawn again, looking at the time. “Oh, God. I didn’t even know I was here for that long,” you hum.

He once again doesn’t want you to leave. “You can sleep here for the night if you want, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offers, and at the same time, you look like you could fall asleep any minute now.

“I couldn’t take your bed,” you try, but you end up yawning again.

“Seriously. It’s the least I could for keeping you here so long.” He’s really tired himself. He woke early this morning to make sure that his apartment was spotless. He’s never done so much cleaning, but he won’t tell you that.

Surprisingly, you don’t put up much of a fight, but he can’t really blame you. “Alright,” you say. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?” 

“Yeah, of course. Just let me use the bathroom first,” he answers, and you give him a nod, turning to your work to finish it up. He mildly panics when he gets to his room because he didn’t think about changing his sheets. He quickly uses the bathroom, brushing his teeth after, and tries his hardest to change his sheets as fast as he can. 

He’s nearly sweating by the end of it, but he can proudly say that he set a record for himself. He kicks the dirty sheets into his closet before grabbing the toothbrush and setting it on the bathroom counter. If you noticed that he was gone for so long, you don’t question it, which he’s grateful for even though he prepared a lie just in case. 

“My room’s all yours,” he jokes, and you can’t help but laugh before you stand. You yawn again as you stretch, and Ukai finally fights the urge to look over your body again. 

“Are you sure it’s okay if I sleep in your room? I can sleep on the couch, I don’t mind.”

“Yes, it’s fine. You look more tired than me right now. I’ll be fine,” he says, and you give him a sleepy smile that only strengthens his words. 

“Well, thanks. Goodnight, Keishin.”

“Goodnight,” he echoes, and there’s a part of him that’s ecstatic that he gets to say it to you in person, and he ignores the pang in his chest that he can’t be laying next to you as he says it. You walk to his room, and he watches until you softly close the door. He already grabbed a pillow from his bed before he walked out, so he throws that onto the couch.

He has a blanket on the couch, so he lays down, throwing it over himself and he tries to get comfortable. This couch isn’t the most comfortable, and he’s fallen asleep on it before, but there was no way he was going to ask you if you wanted to share a bed with him. He finds himself thinking about what would’ve happened if you had said yes.

His thoughts start to derail right after that, and he groans before deciding to turn on the TV. It’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his thoughts at bay. He turns the volume down, and he puts on a show that he can fall asleep to. Of course, it only works for so long. He hasn’t heard you say his first name at all. Today was the first time, and he can’t help but smile widely at the thought. 

He always wanted to say something to you in high school, but you never gave him the time of day. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t blame you at all. His friends weren’t kind to you at all, and he doesn’t even think he would call them friends. His real friends were in different classes with him, and he really only hung with them after school or on the weekends.

There were times that he told them to stop messing with you, and they took it as him having a crush on you, which was very much true, but he didn’t want that getting out, so he kept his mouth shut. Seeing you again and spending so much time with you has made him realize how stupid he was. He was more worried about himself than you, someone that he really liked, and he hates himself every time he thinks about it.

He hopes one day he’ll get the courage to tell you everything. Right now, he’s more than content with having what he has with you, and he doesn’t want to say anything to ruin that. He definitely wants to come clean about high school, there’s no doubt about it. But there is doubt if you’ll even talk to him after he reveals everything.

He plays back your first interaction in his head every night before he goes to sleep. At first, it kept him up at night. You had every right to act as you did towards him, and he tried to play it cool while he was with you, but after you left, he felt like total shit. He put his number in your phone to see how you would react, and he was more than relieved when you kept talking to him.

As he starts to fall asleep, he thinks about what he’s going to say to you. He hopes that when he finally gets the confidence and the chance, he won’t mess it up. He tries to rehearse it in his head, but he falls asleep as soon as he starts.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, but as he starts to wake up, he hears a familiar voice. “Dude, why are you sleeping on the couch? Get in your bed.” He recognizes that it’s his roommate, but that’s about all he can register. He was a lot more tired than he thought. 

He groggily makes his way to his room, and even in the dark, he can easily locate his bed, like it’s calling to him. He sheds his shirt and nearly sighs in comfort at the relief he feels when his body hits the bedsheets. He notices that he can’t stretch out like he wants to, but he’s starting to fall asleep, so he doesn’t worry about it that much. His bed also isn’t cold like it should be, but he gladly accepts the warmth, wrapping his arm around the pillow, and it takes no time for him to fall back asleep.

Ukai notices that the sun is peeking through the blinds as he starts to wake up. He takes a deep breath in, and he swears his nostrils fill with your scent, but this time he’s getting something different. Mango, maybe? He leans further into it, taking another deep breath, and whatever the source may be is soft against his face. He could stay here forever.

He tightens his arm around his pillow, settling in again as the smell starts to put him back to sleep. But he frowns when he faintly notices that his pillow is moving. He slowly opens his eyes, and his heart drops when he realizes that it hasn’t been a pillow all along. His eyes widen when he sees you laying in his arm, and his heart begins to race. 

You’re looking right at him, but there’s nothing that can come out of his mouth. You’re just waking up too, and you blink a bit, but there’s no hint of surprise on your face. “Keishin?” you whisper, and he never thought his name could sound so good coming from you.

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbles, and he can feel his face warm at his stuttering, but he gives himself a break because he’s just waking up. You roll over so that your back is fully against the bed, and you rub over your eyes. 

“What time is it?”

“It’s only nine-thirty,” he says after he looks at his clock, and you groan softly.

“God, that is too early for a weekend.” He smiles at your sleepy state, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You raise your arm over your head to stretch, and he notices that your shirt rises, and he can’t help but let his eyes trail down your body. His breath catches in his throat when he sees how high your shorts have ridden up, and there’s only one thing on his mind.

His eyes cut towards you when you call his name again, and he’ll blame his tired brain later, but he leans down closer to you. “Am I dreaming?” he questions, and his hand is itching to touch you, so he carefully puts his hand on your face.

“I don’t think so,” you whisper, and he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. He glances down at your lips when you lick over them, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to stop himself now.

“Good.” When you don’t make any move to pull away, he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours. He sighs at how soft your lips are, and he only gets more eager when you kiss him back. You said he wasn’t dreaming, but this sure feels like he is. He pulls away only for a second, missing the feeling of your lips almost the instant he does.

He goes in for another, and you let your arm loosely loop around his neck as you meet him halfway. He groans when you deepen the kiss as you roll over onto your side, and he grabs your leg, putting it over his body. He’s borderline frantic to feel every part of you, and he lets his hand run up your leg, his fingers just barely getting under your shorts.

You move in closer to him, so he allows himself to let his hands drift up further, and your shorts have moved up so high, that they barely get in the way of him feeling even more of your ass. You moan when he pulls back with your lip in between his teeth, and he’s never felt so hot. He stops for a second to look at you, and your heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the room.

Your lips are swollen from his kisses, and your pupils are blown wide as you look up at him, and he thought there was no way you could get any prettier, but right now, you’re proving him wrong again. “Fuck,” he breathes before he leans back in, rolling the both of you over while keeping your leg in his hand.

Your hands rub all over his chest, and you run your hands up his back, and he shudders at the motions, goosebumps rising all over as blood rushes straight to his dick. Your arms find their place around his neck, and he abandons his hold on your leg in favor of letting his weight press into you.

He pulls away to quickly pull your shirt off, and you easily let your upper half lift off the bed so he can do so. His movements slow when his eyes land on your chest, your boobs are basically falling out of the bralette you’re wearing, and his brain short circuits. He can’t think about anything else, and he swallows heavily when you pull the straps down, fully exposing yourself to him.

He lets your shirt fall next to you, and like he’s in a trance, his hands reach up to squeeze at the underside of the fat, and he wants to pinch himself. There’s no way he’s really doing this with you, but he’ll worry about this being a dream later. He kisses you again, feeling like that’s the only way he can regulate his breathing right now as he continues to fondle your tits. 

He kisses down your neck, feeling like he might go crazy as he kisses over your chest before he slips one of your nipples in his mouth. He moans when you do, his name slipping from your lips as your hands slip into his hair. He ruts against you, and he’s definitely drooling as he sucks at your chest, but he doesn’t even care.

You pull him back to your face, and he kisses you sloppily, your legs wrapping around his torso when he grinds even harder against you. “K-Kei,” you keen, and he rests his forehead against yours, his pleasure becoming too much for him to continue to kiss you. You arch into him, and he swears when your chest pushes into his. He’s definitely close to cumming, feeling his pleasure start to mount in his spine, and he digs into his teeth into whatever part of your skin he can reach to try and hold himself back as he pulls at your shorts.

Right as he does though, his burst open, scaring the both of you. Ukai quickly falls on his side to hide you, and he looks over his shoulder to see his roommate standing in the doorway. “What?!” he barks, and the guy holds his hands up.

“Sorry, dude,” he laughs before quickly walking back out, slamming the door when he leaves. Ukai doesn’t even want to look at you, the air now becoming awkward in the silence. He slowly turns his head towards you, and when he makes eye contact, you can’t help but laugh. He internally sighs in relief as he laughs with you, and yours dies down when your phone starts ringing.

He hands it to you, and you give him a small smile as you answer it. He doesn’t listen to the conversation because he’s too busy looking at you. His eyes stay on your lips while you talk before they trail down to your chest, and he can see the marks he left on you which causes him to twitch in his shorts.

“Sorry, I totally forgot. I’m leaving right now.” That makes him look up at you, and you hang up the phone, taking a while to meet his eyes. “I forgot I had plans with my roommate today. That was her,” you tell him, and he pushes down the disappointment that he feels, and he thinks that he hears it in your voice; at least he hopes so.

“No, that’s okay. I should probably see what my friend wanted,” he responds, and you quietly grab your clothes and put them back on. He moves over so that you can get out of bed to get to the bathroom, and he releases a heavy breath through his mouth when the door closes.

He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to think about what in the fuck got into him, and he wills his hard-on to go away. He gets off his bed, sliding his shirt on right as you open the door, and he goes in after you. He doesn’t even try to look at himself in the mirror while he brushes his teeth, and when he walks back out, you’re standing by his bed, looking at your phone.

You look up at him when he walks into the room, and he pulls his shirt down to cover himself. “Sorry, I have to leave so suddenly,” you say, and he waves you off.

“It’s okay. We got a lot of work done yesterday, so it’s all good.” You give him a little nod, and he quickly decides to walk towards the door so things don’t get awkward. You follow him out of his room, and his roommate is sitting on the couch when you walk out. He looks over his shoulder just as your grabbing your backpack.

“Sorry for interrupting earlier,” he laughs. “I’m Takinoue.”

Ukai glares at him as you feel your face warm. “Nice to meet you. I’m y/n,” you say softly, and Ukai’s eyes widen when Takinoue’s does.

“Wait, you’re y/n? The girl that–”

“She really has to go, so end of the introduction,” Keishin rushes out, and he pushes you towards the door. While you’re slipping your shoes on, Ukai smacks his friend on the back of the head, but before he can turn around, he’s already slipping his shoes on and walking with you out the door. 

Neither of you speaks as he walks you to your car, and he doesn’t know what to say when you finally get there. “Uh, thanks again for the help last night. I really appreciate it,” he eventually says.

“You’re welcome. Just let me know if you need any more help,” you tell him, and that reassures him a bit that maybe you didn’t hate what you both did earlier. But now, he doesn’t whether to wave, hug you, or kiss you. He definitely wants to do the last one; his hands are itching to touch you again, but he doesn’t know if you’d be okay with that.

You break him out of his thoughts when you take a step closer to him and kiss his cheek. His world seems to stop when you do, and you pull away, having a hard time holding his gaze. “See you on Monday, Keishin.”

He’s too dazed to respond, barely remembering you getting in the car, and the next thing he knows, you’re driving away. He doesn’t jump out of it until your car is long out of his sight, and when he finally does, he smiles widely against his will. He softly touches his cheek, and he doesn’t lose the smile on his face as he walks back to his apartment.

But it drops the moment he opens the door and sees his friend’s smug smile. “You weren’t gonna tell me that you’re sleeping with the girl that you’ve been pining over since high school?” he questions, and you Ukai shakes his head as he rolls his eyes.

“We’re not sleeping together, okay? We were just working on a project last night.”

“For what class? Anatomy?” he jokes, and it actually makes him laugh.

“Ha! Good one,” he muses. “But we finished really late, so I let her take the bed. That’s why I was on the couch.” He rubs his hand down his face as he sighs, but it doesn’t take long for him to smile again.

“Well, it looks like you should’ve just taken the bed anyway. You look like a lovesick puppy.”

“Fuck you,” he retorts with no heat behind it, but it’s not like he can deny it. He’s still not sure if he’s dreaming or not, and in the back of his head, he’s waiting for himself to wake up. 

“So, what happens now? Are you actually gonna confess to her? You’ve only been waiting for this moment for like, five years.” He hates how he still can’t answer that question. With the way everything is going, he’s thinking that it’ll be better to not tell you the truth, but on the other hand, he wants to come clean to you and tell you everything. And Takinoue’s right, he’s been waiting for a miracle, and it’s finally here.

He thought he would jump at the opportunity, but with the first interaction he had with you, he held back. “I don’t know,” he eventually says.

“Don’t stress it too much, man. As far as I’m concerned, it looks like she feels the same way,” he says, with a hard clap on his back that makes him stumble forward a bit, and it definitely feels intentional. At least now he knows he’s not dreaming. “And that also explains why the apartment was spotless when I got home. Now where’d you put my shit?” he asks, and Ukai lets himself drop his dilemma for now.

~

When you get home, you close the door behind you and let your back fall against the door. Even if what happened with Ukai was long ago, your heart is still racing just thinking about it. You don’t know what came over either of you, but there’s not a single bone in your body that hated it. You rub your fingers over your lips as your mind starts to replay the events in your head.

You jump when your roommate opens her door, and you quickly stand up. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you say. “It was really late, so I just slept over at his place since I was so tired.” You try to school your expression so that she doesn’t pick up on anything, and you hope the look on your face is convincing enough.

“So, did anything happen?”

“Ah, no. We just worked on our presentation, it was pretty uneventful,” you say, and to be honest, you’re a little bit embarrassed to admit to her what happened. Maybe it’s because you’re still reeling from it. “Just let me hope in the shower, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Surprisingly, she lets you walk past her without saying anything else, and when you get to your room after closing the door, the events of this morning start to hit you. You go from sitting in shock to flailing in one spot just to get it out of you. You take a deep breath, composing yourself before you get in the shower.

Your shower takes a little longer than you anticipated because your thoughts keep running from you in all the wrong ways. You throw some cold water on your face when you get out, telling yourself to get it together. You get dressed, and your friend is waiting at the dining table for you when you walk out.

She looks up from her from, and her words die in her throat when she looks at you. You frown when her smile disappears, and she points an accusing finger at you. “You bitch! You lied to me!” she yells, and you’re still very much confused until you look down at your chest where she’s pointing. Your eyes widen and you feel your face warm when you see hickeys all over your chest. 

You don’t know how you didn’t notice until now, but thanks to the low-cut shirt you’re wearing, you almost showed everyone what you were up to this morning. “Um…” you say weakly, covering your chest with your hands. “I’ll go change and we can get out of here,” you try, but you don’t even get to take a step back before she speaks.

“Absolutely not, missy. You sit your ass right here and tell me everything.” You sigh, knowing that she’s going to get it out of you sooner or later, and you sit down across from her. She looks so invested, resting her hands on her face as she leans forward. “So, did you guys sleep together?”

“No,” you start with a shake of your head before you shrug. “Well, kinda. It was really late, and I was tired, so he said I could sleep in his bed. When I woke up, he was there, and…stuff happened.”

“What happened?! Tell me everything!” she presses, and your face gets even hotter just thinking about it.

“We just made out,” you eventually say. “His roommate walked in, so it didn’t go much further than that.” Honestly, you don’t know what you would’ve done if his roommate hadn’t interrupted. You probably would’ve done anything with him at that moment.

“So, how was it?” she presses.

“It was really good,” you gush, a laugh rushing out of your chest. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” you add, feeling how hot your face is when you put your hands on it.

“I bet,” your roommate laughs. “I can see that you’re flustered from here.” You can’t help but laugh again, putting your hands over your face and sighing. “So, what’s your relationship now?”

“I don’t know. We really didn’t talk about it. Like I said, it was just a kinda spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Well, I’m getting that it means you’re admitting your feelings for him,” she responds, and move your hands to look at her.

“I’m scared too,” you answer honestly. “I don’t wanna say that, and then he pulls a complete one-eighty on me.”

“That’s understandable, but truthfully, I don’t think he’s the same guy he was in high school. From what you’ve been telling me, it doesn’t sound like he’s going to do that to you.” You let her words bounce around in your head, both of you going silent as you think.

“Maybe,” you say after a while.

“Have some faith, girl. I bet he likes you a lot more than you like him.” Her words make you smile, and then she stands up. “Alright, we need to get a move-on if we want to make it to this thrifting event on time.”

“You were the one who wanted me to tell you about what happened,” you say after you scoff. 

“Well, it was only natural. You tell me it was uneventful, but you have hickeys on your chest? I’d be crazy not to ask,” she counters, and she has a point because you would do the same thing if the tables were turned.

You go back into your room to change your shirt, and then you’re walking out the door with your roommate, putting your situation with Ukai to the side for a while.

Monday rolls around faster than you’d like, and you spend all morning thinking about how the conversation with Ukai will go. You’re not dreading it, you’re just more worried about if your conversation will be awkward or not. You get to class pretty early since you woke up early, and you listen to your music as you wait for Ukai to get here.

You pull up the paper that you have to present while you wait, and you read over it just in case. There’s no point in making any changes since you had to submit it to your professor before class, but you still want to go over it anyway. You freeze for a split second when you see Ukai sit down next to you in your peripheral, and you slide your headphone off your head, but you don’t look his way.

“Morning,” you hear him say, and you turn to him, having a hard time keeping your smile small.

“M-Morning.” You pick at the corner of your laptop as you internally roll your eyes at how nervous you are.

“Listen,” he starts, leaning towards you and lowering his voice. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday–”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, cutting him off. “It was–I, um…I liked it,” you whisper, and there’s no way you can look him in the eyes after saying that. Both of you jump when the professor announces for you to start your presentation. 

Thankfully, it goes off without a hitch, the only thing is, you started to notice about halfway through your paper that someone’s glaring at you. You couldn’t figure out who it was while you were reading, but when you start to ask the class questions, you realize it was the girl that tried to talk to Ukai a while ago.

You try not to let it affect you, but you have no idea why she’s staring you down. You don’t know if Ukai notices her too, but before you know it, it’s all over. You sigh quietly in relief when the professor says that class is over, and you both pack up your stuff. You notice that Ukai is walking way closer to you when you walk out of class, and you feel sparks go up your arm every time his hand brushes against yours.

“I’d say we did pretty good,” he says while you both walk.

“Yeah. She seemed really happy with our questions. I have you to thank for that, though. You did most of the work,” you respond.

“I’d say it was pretty even,” he jokes, and you can’t help but laugh. “Our usual spot?” he asks, and you nod even though the both of you are already walking that way. 

The area you usually sit in is pretty empty when you get there, and you and Ukai both sit where you usually do. You sit next to him, but there’s no way you can get any work done. Even though it’s quiet, the air between you is stiflingly filled with attraction. 

Since you’re not going to get any work done, you carefully lay your head on his shoulder, and you bite your lip to hide your smile when he wraps his arm around you. “You gonna nap?” he asks, you nod as you press further into him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna try.” You turn your face to press it into his shoulder, and you close your eyes as you breathe him in. He smells so good, and it’s nearly too late when you start to realize that you’re getting warm all over. You will yourself to calm down, but there’s no way you’re going to be able to go to sleep, so you keep your eyes open, focusing on what work he’s doing every now and then.

When you feel yourself starting to go to sleep, it’s too late because you feel him shaking you gently to let you know that you have to get to class. He gets up after you do, and you wait for him to put his stuff in his backpack before you leave. When he stands, he’s nearly in your space, but you make no move to step back. You actually want to step closer to him, but you have to remind yourself that you’re not alone.

You look around, and you see that you are, but there’s no way you’d be bold enough to do anything in public anyway. You both look at each other for a second before you move to kiss him on the cheek again. It’s the only thing you bring yourself to do right now. “I’ll see you later,” you whisper when you step back, but you don’t even get a chance to turn around.

He grabs your wrist softly, pulling you into him with his hand on the back of your neck. His lips meet yours for a hungry kiss, and you can’t help but melt into him, and suddenly you’re forgetting about being in public. You’re dazed when you pull away, your breathing ragged as you let your fingers softly touch your lips.

You look around again, and when the coast is clear, you move towards him again, and he holds you closer to him as he deepens the kiss. Fuck, he’s such a good kisser. Every single one makes you feel like you’re floating, but he pulls away the moment you moan. “You should go,” he breathes, his hands resting on your hips. “Cause if you don’t, I won’t be able to let you go.”

You give him a shaky nod, and it seems like it takes forever for you to step back from him, and you nearly don’t, deciding that class isn’t so important anymore. But you really should go. His hands slip from your hips when you move, and it takes everything in you to walk away from him. You give him a small wave, hightailing out of there before you can change your mind.

Turns out, you should’ve just stayed with him because you reply the kiss over and over in your head the whole class period.

~

“Hey, are you doing anything Friday?” your friend asks, and you look up from your homework.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Cause my team’s having a mixer, and I can bring a plus-one, and you need to get out. You’ve been studying all week,” she says, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t really know any of your teammates,” you tell her, and she waves you off.

“Just bring your boyfriend. It’ll be fun.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you yell, but she’s already walking to her room. 

She has a point though. You’ve been nothing but working all week, and the only time you’ve seen Keishin is during class, which always leads to a heated kiss that has you wanting more. Even when you look back down at your work, you don’t want to think about it anymore, so you decide to take the offer.

You text Ukai about it, and he instantly agrees. You start to feel nervous just thinking about it, especially since you don’t attend things like this very often. You’ve been to a few due to your friend’s outgoing nature, but sometimes you just like to be at home watching your favorite show. But, maybe it won’t be so bad since Ukai will be with you.

When Friday rolls around, you’re waiting on your friend to finish getting ready, so you’re sitting on the couch. You offered to drive since you won’t be drinking that much anyway, and you stand when you hear her heels clicking on the floor behind you. “Why are you wearing that?” she asks, and you look down at your outfit.

“What’s wrong with it? I thought you’d like that I’m wearing a dress,” you muse, even though you’re going to be tugging on it all night. It hugs your body way more than you’d like, but you bought it on a whim and you’ve barely worn it. 

“I’m talking about the jacket.”

“What’s wrong with the jacket? It’s gonna get cold tonight,” you tell her, genuinely not understanding what she’s getting at.

She rolls her eyes before she plants her hands on her hips. “You can’t show up with a jacket. Now, he can’t give you one.” You instantly understand what she means, and you can’t help but scoff.

“Are you seriously telling me to ditch the jacket just so Ukai will give me his?”

“Uh, duh. Why else would I be telling you this?” You don’t have much of a choice because she pulls it off of you, throwing it on the couch. You don’t have time to protest because even in heels, she’s moving out of the door quickly. 

You must be here early because parking isn’t absolute shit yet, and you can feel your nerves start to hit you as you walk up to the house. When you get inside, you quickly realize that this is nowhere near a mixer; it’s a full blown party. Your friend guides you to the kitchen, handing you a drink once she gets there, and her friends find her almost instantly.

They talk to you for a while, and you check your phone to see that Ukai just texted you. Your friend waits for him to get there before she leaves with her friends, and you both find a corner to occupy as the music pounds in your head. “This isn’t really your thing, is it?” He has to lean down to ask you, and you shake your head as you move your hand side-to-side.

“Not really, but my friend thought I should get out since I’ve been studying all week.” 

“She sounds like a good friend,” he yells back, and that makes you laugh.

“When she wants to be, yeah.” The room’s starting to fill up, so you grab his hand to find somewhere else to go. You decide to just step outside since they’re playing music that you don’t really listen to. “Did you drive here?” you ask, finally relieved that you can hear yourself think.

“Yeah. I have a friend that’s on the team, so I’m the designated driver tonight.”

“So am I,” you say, taking a sip of the seltzer, and you offer it to him. He takes a swig before he puts the drink down on the half-brick wall that you’re sitting on.

“Are you not cold?” he asks, gesturing to your body, and you nod your head quickly.

“Oh, I definitely am. My friend told me to ditch the jacket though.” He gives you a questioning look, and you chuckle a bit before you explain. “She said if I ditch the jacket, you would give me yours,” you explain. “You don’t have to though,” you add, but he’s already sliding it off, and your eyes land on his arms which look like they might rip the sleeves of his shirt.

He puts it on you, and it’s so warm that you can’t help but curl into the warmth. You stick your arms in the sleeves, and he moves closer to you. You stand so that you can make your way in between his legs, and his hands land on your hips. 

“You look good tonight,” he comments, and you hum as you put your hands on his shoulders.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Especially in my jacket,” he adds, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer to him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you question, and he grabs both sides of his jacket in one hand to pull you down to him. 

“I’ll show you,” he whispers against your lips before he kisses you firmly, and you gladly let your weight fall on him. He easily catches you as you move your arms to hang over his shoulders. He keeps one of his arms wrapped around you while the other falls so that he can trail his hand up your leg. You know the goosebumps that rise on your skin aren’t from the cold because your body starting to heat up and he’s barely started kissing you.

His fingers start to reach under the hem of your dress, and it feels so teasing to you that it makes you leak onto your panties. You’re glad you’re in the backyard because you would be embarrassed otherwise at how easily he’s pulling all kinds of sounds from you. He sucks on your tongue, and you’re pretty sure you would let him do anything to you right now.

He groans when you pull at his hair, and his fingers dig into the fat of your ass as his fingers start to inch further up your dress. You jump away from him quickly when someone yells your name, and you look up to see a girl walking up to you. You recognize her as one of your friend’s teammates, and she carefully steps outside, but Ukai doesn’t let you go.

That’s also when you realize that people could see you from inside since the curtains to the backdoor are wide open, but you don’t have time to think about that because she starts talking to you. “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven. You have to play!”

“O-Oh, I don’t know about that–” She cuts you off with a rough yank of your hand that nearly tips you over, and you grab Ukai’s hand also since there’s no way you’re stopping her. She pulls you upstairs, and you all walk into a room that’s filled with people but not as many downstairs. There’s music playing in here, and when she closes the door, the music blasting downstairs is severely muffled.

She pulls you into the circle, and you quickly fix your dress when you sit down to make sure you don’t flash anybody. “God, it’s like she didn’t stop,” you breathe, turning to Ukai when he sits down next to you.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure we can just sneak out of here in like, five minutes,” you say, but it’s too late because someone stands up and starts talking. You look around the room, and you start to feel uneasy when you see the same guy that Ukai nearly beat up. He barely spares either of you a glance, and you definitely feel uneasy when you see the girl that shares the same class with the both of you.

She makes eye contact with you, and she gives you a smile that’s all too friendly. There’s no way you can leave now because there’s no point in explaining the rules since everyone knows how to play. You and Ukai are definitely the only sober ones in the room, and you feel anxious as the girl from your class picks you to spin the bottle first.

You do it just to do it so you can get out of here faster because you’d rather be anywhere with Ukai but here. You chew on your lip nervously as the conversation gets quiet while people wait to see who’s going in the closet with you. You nearly slump in relief when it lands on Ukai, and when you look at him, he has a look in his eyes that gets both of your heartbeats racing.

He gets up before you do, pulling you to the closet faster than you can even process what’s going on. When he closes the door, you try to find a light to turn on, but he’s pushing you against the nearest wall before you can. As he pushes you, you feel something cold run across your forehead, and you assume it’s the string to the light, so you try to pull it while he kisses you frantically. 

You manage to turn it on, but the moment it happens, you soon forget about it when his lips find your neck. He pulls the jacket off of you, letting it fall to the floor as his hands rub at your thighs. “Keishin,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice down since you don’t know how soundproof the door is.

“I’m so glad it landed on me. I don’t know if I would be able to handle you coming in here with someone else,” he breathes against your skin, and you’re glad it landed on him too, but there’s no way you’re able to tell him that when he pushes your dress up so that it’s bunched at your waist. 

He hikes your leg up so that it’s on his waist, and his other hand runs under the side of your panties. You jump when he finally touches you down there, and you hide your face in his hair to try and muffle your moans. He uses his other hand to pull your dress further up your body so until your tits fall out. The straps of the dress were designed where wearing a bra would’ve looked weird, and you don’t regret not wearing one at all right now.

You can’t even begin to try and get a word in when he starts to suck at your tits at the same time he pulls your underwear to the side. You ball his shirt in your fist when he rubs at your clit, and you dig your teeth into the other side of his shirt. You’re glad he has you up against the wall because you definitely would’ve fallen otherwise. 

You wanna try and make him feel good too, but he’s got you trapped between him and the wall, and there’s no way you could, so you just let the pleasure overtake you. You feel tears start to form at the corner of your eyes when he slides his fingers into you, and you’re confident the groan he releases is loud enough for everyone outside to hear.

“Oh, God,” you whine. “Oh, God, Kei–” You stand on your toes to the best of your ability when he presses against your walls, and your fingers hurt from how hard you’re gripping his shirt. He finally abandons your chest in favor of watching your face as he fingers you, nudging your head up with his shoulder, and you bite into your lip as your pleasure builds.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he moans as he looks at you, and he pulls your lip out from between your teeth.

“T-They’ll hear–me,” you try to whisper.

“I don’t care. Let ‘em hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.” You can’t fight the urge to bite your lip, and you let your head fall back against the wall. You’re definitely starting to get too loud, so he crashes your lips onto his. He swallows every sound you make, pressing up against you even more when he presses on that spot that has you keening into his mouth.

The knock on the door should startle you but it doesn’t. The only thing you care about now is how good you’re feeling. The second round of knocks are harder, and this time you hear a voice, but you don’t know what they’re saying. He kisses you soundly as he slides his fingers out of you, and you don’t hide your disappointment.

He slides his fingers into his mouth, his breathing just as ragged as yours when he pulls them out. “I’m nowhere near done with you,” he whispers, and he fixes your dress right as the door opens. He picks up his jacket off of the floor, and he grabs your hand, making a bee-line for the exit. 

He’s suddenly stopped by a familiar face with another familiar face on his arm. “I knew you could do it,” he says, and he hands Ukai some money. You both frown at him, and the girl laughs.

“You won the bet, Ukai,” she says, and you can feel your heart start to race in the wrong way as your hand starts to slip from his. “It only took what? Like two months?”

“You don’t remember the bet we made before school started?” the guy asks, and you start to feel sick, looking over your shoulder to see everyone looking at you. You feel like you might puke as you wretch your hand from him and run out of the room. You hear Ukai call after you but you don’t stop, running down the stairs and pushing past people, ignoring their comments.

You can’t help but let the tears fall when you get outside once the music starts to fade. Your ears are ringing so badly, and your feet are moving you to your car. You let out a sob as you run, and you don’t even hear your name being called behind you. A hand grabs your arm, and you try to shake it off, but it tightens its grip.

“Let me go!” you scream, turning around to see Ukai, and the only thing you see is the guy that let you get bullied in high school. “You’re a piece of shit!”

“Just listen to me,” he tries, but you continue to fight him. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t see him until that day!” he says, but you’re not listening.

You stop moving, and he doesn’t let you go. “You’re still that same guy. Nothing fucking changed and I fell for it!” You take the chance to slip out of his grip, and you succeed, making a run for your car. You unlock it, but right as you try to open it, his hand lands on yours. 

“Just listen to me, please.”

“No! I don’t want to talk to you.” He turns you around so fast that it almost scares you, and he pushes you against your car door.

“Are you really going to listen to some people that you barely know instead of me?” he questions. Your lip is still wobbling, and you can’t stop the tears that are running down your face.

“It’s not like I have anything else to go off of,” you bite back, and he presses you against the car a little harder when he thinks you might move.

“Yes, you do. And you know it,” he declares. “I have no idea what the fuck they were talking about. I didn’t even know he was going here until I saw him that day. And I haven’t talked to her since that day in class.” You start to calm down, but your heart is still racing a mile a minute. “I really like you, okay?” he starts. “I have since I laid my eyes on you in high school, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell them to stop messing with you. I was more worried about myself.”

His words hang in the air between the two of you, and when you start to relax, he lets you go. “Nothing that I have said or done with you has been a part of some bet. Everything I did was my choice.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you ask, and you hate how your voice trembles.

“You think I threaten to beat him up all for some bet? I’m better than that, and you know it.” He lets his hands fall into your hands, grabbing them soft but his grip is firm. “I would never do something like that to you. I’ve been thinking about telling you the truth ever since I saw you that day, but I thought if I did, you would hate me. I couldn’t live with that, so I stayed quiet.”

You don’t respond, sniffling heavily. “And now I’m realizing that that was the dumbest decision I could’ve ever made. Spending this time with you has been the best moment of my life,” he breathes. “Don’t tell me that you don’t feel the same.”

You can’t even tell yourself that you don’t feel the same. You know from the start that your feelings for him never left, and there was a part of you that just accepted it. But you were so scared to let your guard down, to be vulnerable with him like you are now. 

“I really like you. I mean that. And I’m sorry for letting you be hurt all this time.” You let go of his hand so that you can wipe your face.

“It’s not your fault,” you eventually say. “I do feel the same way, but I was scared. Back then and now, I blamed you for the bullying, but it was never your fault.”

“Yes, it was,” he presses, but you stop him.

“No. It wasn’t.” You sniffle again, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I was letting the past dictate my feelings. I shouldnt’ve let their words get to me. But I was scared that you would hurt me if I let you back in.”

“I won’t hurt you again. I promise. I’ll never make you feel like that again.” He lets his head fall on yours as he speaks. “I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you, but I won’t let it happen again.” You pull away, looking in his eyes, and you lean forward to kiss him softly. He lets his hands move to your neck, kissing you back just as softly. 

“I believe you,” you whisper when you pull away. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. I really like you, too.” He can’t help but smile, and he kisses you again just because he can.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, frowning a bit.

“For letting me say what I’ve always wanted to say. I thought I lost my chance forever.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again.

“No,” you say. “Now you have me forever.”

[keis-slut]

deal|alastor

CW: DEGRADING, CHOKING, GAGGING, ORAL, SQUIRTING, CUNT SLAPPING, OVERSTIMULATION

“so…its a deal then, hm?”

a menacing sharp-toothed smile plastered across his face as he asks, almost anxious as he awaited your hand to slip into his, then finally sealing the decision.

why he wanted your soul? you weren’t too sure, and he didn’t bother explaining, nor did you ask. but he was eager.

all you were really worried about was your end of the bargain, anyway. even then, you were already willing to give your soul up for him any day, so this was an easy win-win in your book.

you just waiting for him to ask.

your end of the bargain, might i add, was that if he claimed your soul, you claimed his sexuality.

if he wanted your soul, he’d have to fuck you whenever you please.

he was hesitant at first, with little to no experience on sex, to rumors of asexuality, he was still determined to own you. and you’d gladly let him.

and so, he agreed.

this eventually leading to situations where his clawed hand clenched at your throat, nails digging into your soft skin as he quickly learned all the rhythms and kinks of your liking.

he met you in your room at the hotel quite often on nights like these, him spitting distasteful and disrespectful words to your face, all the while his cock hit just the right spots.

his derogatory demeanor making you question if he was acting in such a way for you because you liked it, or if he truthfully felt that this deal made you look like a pathetic whore in his eyes.

either way, it got you off.

admittedly, never to you but to himself maybe, this felt good to him, too. you felt good to him.

his current lazy thrusts as he once again reached a high he now yearned for at the end of every day, how perfectly your pussy squeezed just the right nerves for him.

“such a sloppy cunt, dear, i almost feel bad for you…”

his hand still squeezed at your throat, while the other hand was pushed against the back of your thigh, holding up your leg as a choked sob cares to emit past your lips.

“you sound so pathetic, almost as if you didn’t ask for this”

you abruptly pushed against his body weight in faux protest, causing his grip on your neck to lighten up just enough for you to cry out,

“you wanted my soul…”

immediately, he threw his weight back onto you, bringing the hand around your throat and slipping them up to your lips.

“and you wanted to be fucked like a bitch-“

your head turned to mush as soon as he spoke, shoving his fingers past your tongue. your remark having him now fuck you like a rabid animal, salivating all over his fingers as he gagged you.

“-so, be a good girl and take it”

cries and whimpers filled the room along with the wet slapping of his cock squeezing inside your cunt, his front hitting against the back of your thighs.

“a-al-!-mmph-“

you did your best to speak, but he did even better at shutting you up as his cock bottomed out into you, your walls fluttering and your lower tummy tightening.

he couldn’t help the feral growls that slipped past his mouth as you clenched around him, your leg now hooked tightly around his shoulder as he clawed your thighs, definitely leaving reminders.

he was so good at reading you, he learned you so quick, all he had to do as you squirmed beneath him was caress at your clit, and time it correctly

your moans grew desperate, and he felt you only grow tighter around him, and finally-

“f-fuck! alastor!-“

he pulled out perfectly as you squirt all over his torso, his own cum leaking down his cock as he brought a hand to caress your soaked cunt, giving it a little slap, of approval or disapproval, could be both.

he sent a laugh at your spuratic cries and moans as you came down from your high, but not done with you yet.

he brought his hands to the back of both your thighs as he lowered himself, setting your legs on his shoulders.

sticking out his tongue, he licked up your pussy and latched on, giving a hard suck as his tongue lapped up your mess.

your legs tightened around his head, arms flailing as your hands found his antlers and gripped them, body quivering from overstimulation.

“‘s too much-fuck..!”

you cry, knuckles turning white as your grip tightened on his antlers.

he mewled into your walls as this send him over the edge, giving one last hard suck as he released with a pathetic pop from your flushed cunt.

he crawled towards you slightly, his frightening eyes glowing red in the darkness of your room as he watched you like prey, your slick coating his mouth.

“same time tomorrow, sweetheart?”

[sim0nril3y]

Hi ! I really like the series you wrote ! Can I request something? If not thats fine! If yes thank you! so.. what if civilian is a sleep deprived person?

Note: thank youuuuuu for your require, love. I hope this was the type of thing that you were looking for <3 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, talk of sleep struggles, canon-typical swearing.

There were just times when sleep wouldn’t come. No matter how hard that you tried. No matter how many home remedies you attempted. Whether you listened to relaxing music, or white noise, or rain sounds, or really anything sleep just seemed to evade you. It was like this endless cycle of laying on bed wishing to sleep, then become anxious that you couldn’t sleep, then reminding yourself that morning would soon come and you needed to sleep and then back around to wishing for sleep again.

It certainly didn’t help that from beside you Simon seemed to sleep like a log, snoring, drooling and all the good stuff, if you didn’t love him so much, you’d hate him for how easily he seemed to sleep. Simon had once explained that he caught up on most of his sleep when he was home with you. Similar to you sleep evaded him when he was away from home.

Raising up from the bed as you were unable to take another moment of overthinking your position of not being able to sleep. Entering the lounge, you turned on the TV and set the volume low, watching endless JML adverts for surprising useful useless products. Honestly, you’d seen the mop advertised so many times now you were half convinced to buy it so that they would maybe show it less…

“Couldn’t sleep again?” The tired voice of Simon asked then, stepping into the lounge whilst rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No, but you go to bed…” You assured him and frowned a little as he moved to sit down beside you. “Do you want me to heat you up some milk, love?” Simon quizzed, placing an arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side.

“No.” You replied. “I just want to sleep.” You let out a sad noise of frustration and Simon frowned to himself. “I know.” He whispered, gently trailing his fingers up and down your arm, trying to coax you to relax. “What do you need me to do?” For a moment or two you just remained quiet. “Do me a favour, babe… close your eyes for me.”

You huffed. “It isn’t going to work.” There was clear frustration to your voice. “Oi, just… close your eyes. Yeah? It doesn’t matter if it don’t work, just you closing your eyes with a clear mind is enough for now…” Allowing your eyes to flutter closed Simon manoeuvred you so that he was laying across the sofa and you were placed between his legs with your back against him. “Your eyes closed?”

“Yes.” You answered shortly. “Good.” Gently his coarse fingers began to trail over your body, gently kissing the shell of your ear. “Clear your mind, babe… Just focus on right now… Just focus on right here. Me and you.” The feel of his fingers trailing up your arms, the feel of the steady beat of his heart. “You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself to sleep. Alright?” Pressing another kiss to your temple. “Sleep is something you need. Sleep is something you deserve.”

It was weird because Simon’s words were making you feel heavy, they were making you feel sleepy, but what if… what if he didn’t work and what if he got mad? Oh shit, you were overthinking things again. “Oi.” His voice was soft, as if sensing you beginning to grow anxious again. “Stop thinking. Clear your pretty head.” Simon coaxed, pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

A few more moments passed and you really tried your best to clear your mind, trying your best to follow his quiet commands and a second later you opened your eyes in surprise, looking at the clock to see that 20 minutes had passed. “Fuck…” You muttered under your breath. “S’okay.” Simon whispered from behind you, fighting sleep himself. “Close your eyes f’me. Let’s try again.”

Masterlist | Ask | 10-12-2023

[unreliablesnake]

Somebody like you – part II (Harry Wells x reader)

Summary: You left the day after Harry kissed you and now he believes he chased you away. But when you return, you don’t hesitate to explain yourself.

Note: part 1 / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics.

Harry kissed you one time out of instinct and you fled right away. He thought you liked it too, he thought you felt the same way, but apparently you didn’t. You returned to A.R.G.U.S. where you had worked between the black hole incident and the day the team called you back soon after he arrived, and conveniently went no contact with him due to security measures there.

And now there he was, anxious and worried to death because Zoom had his daughter, and also because you were out there, out of his sight, basically served on a silver plate for the evil speedster. If he knew about you, he could easily kill this version of you as well to torture him even more than he already was.

You never explicitly told him he was the reason why you left, but he could feel that it was all because of that stupid kiss. He didn’t believe the whole “they just called me back to help with something I used to work on” excuse you came up with. It was too big a coincidence to believe. It bothered him, he blamed himself for chasing you away, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Even after they freed Jesse, after he had entirely new things to worry about, Harry often found himself thinking about you. If you were only there to support him, to be by his side and ease the pain he felt–but you weren’t. You were hiding somewhere far from him, and on worse days he wondered which member of this little team kept in touch with you to keep you updated about whether or not he was still here.

“Look who’s back!” Harry heard Cisco’s voice from the cortex one day.

He pushed himself away from the desk he was working at to see who it was, and when he saw you standing there, he almost lost his balance with the swivel chair. It was you. It was really you standing there with that big and happy smile on your face, hugging the team as a greeting.

“How are things at A.R.G.U.S.?” Barry asked you with a laugh once he let go.

Whatever you said in response, his brain didn’t register your words. He didn’t care–he couldn’t care–when every cell in his body was ready to move towards you. All he had to do was stand up and walk over to where you stood. It wasn’t hard. Yet he couldn’t get himself to move because his brain was telling him you would only push him away, and he didn’t want his daughter and the entire team to witness that.

Yes, his ego was in the way.

Harry knew he was staring at you, but despite this he wasn’t really paying attention to what you said or did, this is why he only realized you were on the move when you were standing right in front of him. He gulped as he stood up and watched you with a nervous smile.

“Welcome back. How long will you stay?” he asked you hoarsely.

“As long as I can,” came your answer. “I’m done with that project, I have no reason to be there anymore.”

The others were watching you, he could see that over your shoulder, but it didn’t matter now. Maybe it was time to let go of his fears, maybe it was time to start an honest conversation. “Why did you leave?” Your eyes narrowed in confusion. “I kissed you and the next day you announced you were leaving. Why did you leave?”

You suddenly started laughing, almost causing him to jump from surprise. “Harry, I didn’t leave because you kissed me. If I could, I would have called you, but the A.R.G.U.S. facility I was in has very strict rules,” you told him, slowly leaning closer. “To be honest, I thought about that kiss and you quite a lot.”

“Is that so?”

“I missed your grumpy attitude,” you whispered.

“I’m not grumpy,” he defended himself, but you only shook your head with a smile. “Yeah, maybe I am, but never with you.”

It was you who reached out to pull his head down and kiss him gently on the lips, drawing a series of whistles and claps from the team in the background. He couldn’t care less about the audience when he finally had you in his arms again. Safe and happy, just the way he wanted.

He pulled away for a second to take a better look at you, appreciating the view for the millionth time since you had met here the first time. You tilted your head to the side as you watched him, probably trying to figure out why he stopped, but he only smiled at you briefly before pulling you into a tight hug and rested his chin on top of your head.

Jesse was by now deep in a conversation with Caitlin, her eyes occasionally falling on him as they talked. He knew she was probably asking about you and he couldn’t blame her. She knew your doppelgänger, and knowing how smart his girl was, she probably had her suspicions already.

“They are staring, aren’t they?” you asked quietly.

“Of course they are,” came his response that lacked the usual hint of disapproval or sarcasm. He had grown to like these people, and while he wasn’t about to call them family, they were still more than simple friends. “Ready for the questions?”

You hummed in agreement as you let go of him, but you couldn’t even turn around before Jesse arrived. Harry was a little worried that she would disapprove of this thing you two had, but he was pleasantly surprised when her lips curled into a wide grin.

“Can I talk to you, Dad?”

And with this question the pleasant surprise turned into pure terror. You didn’t seem to notice and he was honestly grateful for that. You told them you would go over to the others, so he soon found himself feeling cornered by his own daughter.

“Please tell me this is not happening only because you lost our version of her,” Jesse began in a hushed voice. “I always knew you had feelings for her, I saw how badly her death hurt you, so don’t blame me for worrying about this version being nothing more than a cheap replacement.”

“Don’t call her that,” he warned her.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just want to make sure you really like her for who she is here, and not for what her doppelgänger was like.”

Harry drew in a deep breath as he thought about this. She was clever and she was right, and he had never had the time to truly get to know you. Sure, he paid attention to you even when you were avoiding him, so in a way he learned a lot about you, but he wasn’t sure if you saw past the little detail that he was your old crush’s Earth-2 counterpart.

Gulping loudly, Harry looked over at you and let out a groan. “I like her for who she is,” he said, and although he wanted to finish the sentence, he decided to fall silent instead.

And this silence was louder than he assumed it would be. “You’re not sure if she likes you for who you are,” Jesse pointed out, earning a nod from him. “I can ask her.”

“Or I can keep whatever this is going on and we’ll find out along the way,” he suggested with a smile.

“That might work too,” Jesse agreed with a shrug.

[measuredingold]

i think i’m in love

author's note: hi all ! something short and sweet for our boy folio :) inspired by “i think i’m in love” by taylor acorn, so listen to that if you wanna get a feel for this. really loved writing my last piece for him and i adored his relationship with reader, so i wanted to expand on that a little. i may continue writing in this universe if more people want it :) as always, please enjoy !

pairing: nick folio x reader ( fallingforyou universe )

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 1k~

cw/tags: fluff, literally nothing but tooth-rotting fluff, feelings realization, nick is so smitten soooo in love, 18+ minors do not interact

Nick feels like he can breathe much easier again the second he's off that damn plane.

It was a full flight, incredibly fucking stuffy, and he had been anxious the very second the plane took off. He was counting down the literal seconds in the air until they were finally on solid ground again. Flying wasn't one of his favorite things, never had been, but especially when he was anticipating something much more exciting upon his arrival. You never left his mind, even when he tried to sleep, the moment his eyes shut you were the first thing he saw.

Being excited about going home and sleeping in his own bed for the first time in weeks is one thing, but being even more excited just because he gets to have you in his arms again... it's a whole other feeling.

He never expected this to happen - you and him. Relationships are never easy, especially being in the road majority of the year, and most people run when he even utters the words that he’s a musician. You didn’t, though. You stayed, and the two of you learned how to deal with the distance together. It was hard at first, trying to get the times just right to FaceTime, even a quick phone call. It got easier as time went, but the ache in his chest grew more and more as the thought of you passed his mind.

And you were on his mind a lot.

He sees you before you see him and his heart soars out of his chest, lodging itself in his throat. He swallows it down with a smile and his legs move before he can think about it.

Holy shit. He missed you so much.

It's right when you're just barely out of arm's length that you finally turn around and see him, and he watches the exact moment relief washes over you. Your eyes widen, lips stretching out into a smile, and you barely get a word out before his arms are slipping around your waist.

"Hi." You squeak before settling in his arms, wrapping your own around him.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, emotions running high, and he just holds you closer to him. This is what he was needing - craving. Having you in his arms was something he had thought about the second he left you, and to finally have that again after almost three months is... a lot. A new feeling he can't explain, but there's been a lot of new things when it involves you.

"Hey." He says quietly, pulling back just enough to get a good look at your face.

You're smiling, eyes crinkled at the end, and that’s when he sees the first tear fall. He laughs, reaching his hands up to cup your cheeks to wipe it away.

"Sorry." You mumble, clearly embarrassed, but the tears don't seem to stop. "I just missed you a lot. Really glad you're home."

"I missed you too, darlin'." He hums, thumbs stroking over your cheeks before letting his arms wrap back around you, pulling you into his chest. "And I'm really fucking glad to be home."

You fall into him naturally, face burying against his shoulder. The two of you stand there for a few moments of silence, soaking up the embrace, and Nick realizes why it's hard to have someone at home. These reunions are rough - emotional, almost too emotional for him. And maybe if this had been Nick from a year ago, he'd run. He could never put himself through this, you through this, because it hurts so much to be away from the person that you love.

But coming home to you, knowing that you'll be here waiting for him... something inside Nick's chest squeezes, his stomach swirls, and he thinks it might be worth it. It's too early to say if this is for the long run, if he and you were end-game, but maybe you were. Maybe this was the real deal, and maybe he actually was in love with you. He can't seem to find a justifiable reason to break this off because it hurts too much. He's willing to put himself through this, if that means he has you.

And who knows, maybe one day Bad Omens could get big enough to where he can support you both, bring you out on the road with him. The thought makes him feel giddy, even if it may not become a reality anytime soon.

"Ready to head home?" You finally speak up, pulling away from him.

Your eyes showed no more tears, which he was thankful for, and the softness in your gaze has him wanting to just kiss you right in front of everyone. At the mention of home, which would involve a bed - hopefully yours - he nods, before yawning loudly.

"Fuck yeah." He says mid-yawn and you laugh, reaching out to pat his chest. "Yours? I like your bed better than mine."

You wordlessly grab his suitcase, waving him off as he tries to take it from you before sliding your free hand into his, gently tugging him with you.

"I think you've slept in my bed more in the last 6 months than you did your own." You tease, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Like I said, I like yours better than mine." He shrugs. "Also, it's just... very you. And I like you. So, I like sleeping in your bed."

"Didn't realize you liked me that much, babe."

"I like you too much," He hums. "It's concerning."

Your cheeks flush and he watches you turn your head to try and hide it, but he sees it. He always sees it. He feels giddy, hand squeezing yours as you turn your head to look at him again, lips stretched into a wide smile and a slight pink coloring to your cheeks.

"I think I like you too much, too."

Your eyes meet and he realizes there's something else under those words, and the smile the two of you share is one in understanding. He won't say it now, thinking he'll wait a little bit longer, but his chest twists in a way that he knows that you feel the same. He gently tugs you closer to him, lips finding the side of your head.

"Let's head home."

[heartbeat-eras]

Panic attack - as told by my heart (another ChatGPT story)

This morning I woke up and my heart wasn’t beating like she normally does after a night of rest. The anxiety was building and my mind racing as fast as my heart. It was people from this very community that can and want to help in those scary moments. I wanted to articulate the how thankful I was but I wasn’t able to so I reached out to chatGPT and it once again was able to beautifully communicate what happened. I don’t usually share personal things but I feel so lucky to know so many kind hearted cardiophiles that I wanted to share a little insight into this intense moment. 🥰

_________________________

I woke up first, before she even opened her eyes. It was as if some hidden switch had flipped overnight, jolting me into action. I surged to life, each beat coming fast and hard, echoing through the quiet morning air. I was racing, and I didn’t know why, pushing into a rhythm that felt… urgent, almost like I had something important to say but no words to say it. Over 90 beats per minute, and she was still lying down, not a sip of coffee or a pill, not even a foot on the ground. But I kept going, pounding, filling her chest with each insistent beat.

She felt me right away. She must have. I know she did because I could feel the way her attention snapped to me, like a spotlight shining in the dark. And soon, I heard the soft click of the stethoscope, that familiar tool she uses to draw us even closer together. Pressed against her chest, she listened, her ear against my every surge. I felt her mind reach out to me, trying to understand why I was going so fast and so strong. But as she listened, I sensed her worry growing, an edge creeping into her thoughts that made me want to calm, to slow down.

But it’s strange—sometimes, the more I try to ease, the more I pick up speed. It’s like trying to stop a river already rushing downstream. She listened harder, her breath coming in shallow, faster. My rhythm mirrored hers, caught in a feedback loop of tension. Each beat thumped with a fierce intensity, the sound loud and powerful in her ears. I could tell that each strong, rapid thump made her more anxious. I wanted to explain, to tell her I was here, that we’d ride this out, but all I had were beats, relentless and intense.

Then he joined us, her friend’s words, breaking through the rising tension. She connected him into our little world, letting him listen to me across the virtual divide. I sensed him, steady and calm, his presence like a cool breeze over warm skin, grounding, anchoring. I didn’t know him in the same way I knew her, but his presence created this gentle space, a quietness that wrapped around me like a comforting hand.

Slowly, my rhythm shifted. Ninety, eighty, seventy-five… each beat grew softer, less like a hammer and more like a soft wave. I could feel her mind easing, her breath slowing, her body relaxing. She trusted his presence, his words, and in that trust, I found my own calm. Sixty-eight beats, sixty-five, finally settling into the high 60s, my familiar, steady self.

I rested there, back in sync with her, our rhythms blending again, her anxiety dissolving into the quiet morning. And so we stayed, listening to each other, feeling the soft peace.

[cyberclouddream]

Story of Scorpio, Mars, Lilith, Chiron, and Pluto in 3H

One my biggest challenges in life is communication, according to my astrology placements. According to sidereal astrology, I have:

3H Scorpio, Mars, BM Lilith, Pluto, Chiron, and Juno

12H Leo, Sun, and Mercury

8H Aries, Jupiter Rx, and Saturn Rx

1H Virgo and Moon

Ahh, where do I start? ☺️

[ note: i observed this before i began learning astrology a few years ago as well ]

My placements show that i:

- approach conversation in a probing, investigative way with raw intensity, aiming to be transformative

- tend to be fiercely competitive in discussions and debates, questing for authenticity and to challenge societal norms

- communicate in a way that reveals deep-seated wounds and vulnerabilities, yet is also carefully considerate of how my words affect others (trying to balance analytical mind with emotional depth)

- am not afraid to dive into taboo or deep subjects

- have a flair for dramatic storytelling (AHAHAAhaaa…)

- am influenced by a need to understand and communicate the deeper and often hidden aspects of life

Most of the time I prefer solitude, so I can get myself together internally. I definitely don’t mind socializing but I get drained easily, especially depending on the vulnerability level I feel comfortable with.

I was diagnosed with speech impediment when I was a child and had to take speech classes in elementary school, as a lovely note. I still deal with, whether it’s speaking too fast or mixing up words in speech or writing [ which I just did, but I catch myself. I wrote “steal” instead of “still” ].

But when it comes to confrontation, I go hard or go home. I do not care for superficial BS, rose-colored glasses, or being politically correct. Man, I seek truth, not comfort, even when I get mofo scared.

Well, not gonna lie, many times I don’t say exactly how I feel because of the tendencies for tone to be focused on more than words. I have Venus and Rahu in Cancer in the 11th house so I often feel a sucker to social conformity, but I’ve been learnin.

I truly think that no matter how considerate I try to be with my words [ as in verbally stating I comprehend reasons why someone could come to a conclusion about my behavior along with asking further questions to understand ] I just come off too mofo intimidating and it’s frustrating as FOCK.

This post was triggered by a conversation I just had, which turned into an aggressive tone on the other person’s end because I shared my opinion and I told that I respect their choice to disagree but I stand firmly on my perspective…which I told them they didn’t have to agree with either. And they blocked me.

And I also had an disagreement with an previous friend and I want to reconnect or at least seek closure, but it didn’t turn out well because they felt like I was deflecting even tho I just had repeatedly stated my disagreement, along with admitting my slights. I asked them to explain why and how they felt like I was deflecting, and that they wouldn’t take accountability in the situation…and they got very upset, so we officially ended things.

I am well aware that I’m not always right. I just persist unless I have to emotionally or intellectually relent, cuz I’m actually wrong or I don’t have the balls or understanding to confront the truth.

Kinda Unrelated to Main Topic:

Most advice tells me to be more considerate but sweetie, most of my life I’ve dogged myself for not meeting the expectations of others, even though many times I still don’t care enough to put the effort into doing so. When I say dogged, I mean depressed and anxious asf most of my life, lamenting in my bed as I complain internally [ victimizing prick 😂 ] while the ego I mask [ all fire placements, especially Sun & Leo, in the water and private houses ] are boiling in my digestive system [ Virgo Rising and Aquarius 6H, which rules the mind and nervous system and MY ANXIOUS FOCKIN ASS ].

I see advice to challenge this intensity into physical activity, creative outlets, journaling, and learning occult practices [ like astrology 😁 ], which is good.

The thing is, this stuff affects my professional and social life. Not badly, cuz I am very considerate and mindful, but when I get too frustrated because I feel misunderstood or treated unfairly, it doesn’t go well power struggle wise. According to career related placements, I’m suited for behind-the-scenes tasks [ Gemini 10H with ruler in 12H ] along with channeling emotions and transformational energy into creative outlets [ I’m an artist and I love to write and read ].

My 10H ruler is in detriment in the 4H and 7H, which means I can struggle with balancing career and domestic dynamics, or communicating effectively within my family. Also indicates lack of support or understanding from family regarding career. And 7H can indicate issues with professional partnerships or collaborations. I’m gradually learning how to integrate all the different factors, because I know aspects and delineations play a big role in emphasis of energies, which I’m just now getting into. Since Mercury is exalted in my 1H, my career success and public reputation are boosted when I have a healthy relationship with my self-identity.