#and I'm eager to share information about him

[reiderwriter]

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

[midnightcrw]

Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of discrimination (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: This is my first time writing for Alastor and anything related to the Hazbin Hotel, so I hope you all will like it. Please tell me if there's anything in this one shot that might offend anyone, and I'll do my best to change it or clarify my thought process.

Charlie was walking around in circles because of the fact that her dad was going to come over to the hazbin hotel for the first time.

And while everyone seemed quite unbothered, she couldn't calm down while Vaggie was currently helping Sir Pentious put up the decorations.

"You have been walking around in circles for the last fifteen minutes, darling," your voice was heard as you put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

She stopped abruptly as she felt the weight on her shoulder and turned her head slightly to look into your eyes, "It's just been a while since I've seen him and I really want this to go well."

Her usual optimistic tone was much less energetic and confident as she started to look around, clearly avoiding your eyes.

You let out a sigh, a small smile finding its way to your lips as you cupped her chin between your thumb and forefinger, "There's nothing to panic about. I'm sure everything will go perfectly."

Your words seemed to calm the blonde down a bit as she gave you a slight nod, "I hope you're right," she muttered as you let go of her chin.

With that, Charlie made her way over to Vaggie to look at the decorations she had put up with Sir Pentious.

You just smiled at the sight when you suddenly heard a low static behind you, "She's been all over the place since the call," Alastor mused, his sharp grin never leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes at him, you opened your mouth to speak, "Let her be, she's trying her best."

"Oh, I know, my dear. I want the best for Charlie too," Alastor's words made you shake your head, knowing there was more to it, but even with you, he wasn't eager to share that information.

If you had known that you would be bound to him even in hell, you would have run as fast as you could in your mortal life.

But your 'lovely' husband had a way with words even then. Even if the two of you didn't marry for love, there was definitely something there.

Back in New Orleans, Alastor had a hard time because he was half Creole. He was always at a disadvantage because he did not fit into the standard, even though he tried his best to somehow blend in.

But radio was really the perfect solution and a passion of his. It even helped him because no one saw his face and only had to listen to his voice, which even he had forced to sound different, his usual deep tone becoming much higher to fit into the society.

And once he became famous, he even started to change his appearance. His usually dark brown wavy hair was straightened by him, while he also started to dress like the rest of the crowd.

But even then it never seemed to be enough. His tan complexion was still striking to some, as people began to gossip about him from time to time.

The prejudices against him never stopped, as people even started to question him because he wasn't married, making him out to be a cruel man who couldn't even find love, and that's where you came in, to get rid of at least one of the many talked about topics about him. At least then the people of New Orleans would know that Alastor really was a lovable man.

You really couldn't have cared less about the standards and the gossip that had made its way when Alastor started to pursue you back then. Even though he did not even reveal his intentions at first, you could still tell that there was more to it than just love in itself.

And even after he revealed his true intention behind a marriage, you accepted it. You didn't really have anything to lose anyway, and his charming words seemed to sway you somehow.

However, getting married and playing the role of a happily married couple had been a struggle. Both of you being at each other's throats, but never really being able to truly hate each other, was definitely odd.

But leaving that aside for now, there were more important matters at hand as you let go of your thoughts of the past.

"Just don't ruin this for her," your stern tone was obvious and with that you went over to help Niffty with cleaning up.

A few minutes passed and everything seemed to be perfect now, but not for Charlie.

"What if he hates the way the hotel looks?" She asked herself, her hands pulling tightly on her hair.

"He won't. You don't have to worry. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you at all," Vaggie said in a reassuring voice as she put an arm around her girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

That little gesture made Charlie blush as she leaned against Vaggie, trying to calm herself, and when she felt ready, she made her way to the door.

"Okay everyone, it's showtime!" She said with a smile on her face, looking at everyone as the door was suddenly flung open by Lucifer, who said his daughters name and hugged her tightly.

Standing near the door, Alastor looked at the two of them with a crazy glint in his eyes and his never-ending smile showing his teeth.

And that's when you knew that this wasn't going to end well.

As Lucifer looked around the hotel, Alastor didn't seem happy at all, angry at the fact that he was being ignored.

"It's got a lot of character... What in the unholy hell is that?" Lucifer asked in a disbelieving tone, as a frown made its way onto his face.

Already knowing that Alastor wasn't going to hold back now, you let out a heavy sigh as you rubbed your temple.

"Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit of color, don't you think?" Your husband's voice was heard as Lucifer then proceeded to ask who he even was.

And with the blink of an eye, Alastor is now at Lucifer's side. "I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure," he replied as he wiped his hand on his coat.

You were about to slam your head against the wall when you felt someone tugging at your dress. "He's a bad boy," Niffty said in an excited tone, staring at the King of Hell while you just felt a shiver run down your spine in disgust at your friend being lusted upon.

"You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast," Alastor said with a sinister grin on his face as he held his microphone. Knowing him, he loves to be acknowledged and it didn't look like Lucifer was going to give him any of that.

"Nope, I guess that's why Charlie called it the Hazbin Hotel," Lucifer said, emphasizing the 'haz'.

"Hahaha! It was actually my idea!"

"Hahaha! Well, it's not very clever!"

"Haha! Fuck you!"

Hearing that, you immediately made your way to Alastor as you and Charlie interrupted them, earning a look of shock from Lucifer.

"Is it really you?" Lucifer asked, his eyes wide as he looked at you. And before you could even answer, he threw himself at you, nearly crushing you to a second death and leaving you breathless.

"It's been years!" The King of Hell shouted as he let go of you to examine your face. You let out a chuckle, "It has indeed been a long time."

The interaction between the two of you naturally caught everyone's attention, as they all had a confused look on their faces, except for Alastor, who seemed to be losing his patience by the second.

Not even letting you two continue reminiscing, Alastor put an arm around your waist, causing you to gasp in surprise, as he wasn't usually the one to show off your relationship, especially to Overlords and anyone above that position.

"From where do you know him, my love?" Alastor's static-like voice was heard loud and clear as he pulled you even closer.

Before you could answer, Lucifer interrupted. "My love?!" He asked in disbelief and disgust.

"Oh, yes. 'My love,' the beautiful woman I'm so smitten by," Alastor was really putting on a show as he even planted a small kiss on your temple.

Your arm made its way around your husband's back as you pinched his waist in annoyance, eliciting a small static screech from Alastor.

"You really have some nerve, don't you?" you whispered in a caustic tone as your face came closer to his, wanting only him to hear it.

But even with that, the man dressed in red didn't shy away to take it completely somewhere else, "Just a few minutes, my darling. Then we'll have some time alone. Oh, and how she loves it, almost shameless, isn't she?" Alastor went on talking while you cursed him in your head.

You knew he was only doing it to rile Lucifer up, but of course the rest of them didn't know that.

"So Freaky Face does fuck," Angel Dust mused with a grin on his face as Husk slapped him on the back of the head.

"You sleep with that?" Lucifer asked in a disgusted tone as he ran towards you, pulling you out of Alastor's tight grip as he took a few steps away from your husband.

"Are you sure this is what you want for your future? Are you even sure it is worth of dating?" The short man asked you, almost even praying for you.

You apparently forgot to mention that you and Alastor have been married for decades, but you definitely wouldn't tell him that right now.

"It's a he," you simply replied.

"Well, I couldn't care less about it."

[beelmons]

How to shut a genius up.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

cw: face riding, i think that's it?

Spencer is, gently put, annoying.

But well, aren't we all at times? At least, he's annoying for all the right reasons. Rampant mind eager to share an endless stream of knowledge, well-deserved validation of his own extraordinary skills, pinkish lips that spoke their mind without concern, words were a tool he used for good, never with an ounce of malice.

It seemed to you that talking was all he knew. No matter how much you rubbed your hand on his thigh at the bar the team went to, or that asked him for his shower after a drunk man dropped an entire yard of beer on your clothes, or the fact that you were standing in his livingroom with only a towel wrapped around your body, and how you were paying no mind to whatever he was saying and your eyes were fixed on his mouth, the same mouth you had been craving for quite a while now.

"...and that's why, although I'm not a fan of digital encyclopedias, Wikipedia can actually be considered a reliable source of information. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the referenciation of other related concepts makes it the most efficient learning tool of the century."

Little did you know, he had begun his little rant in an attempt to keep himself distracted from your nudeness beneath the fabric that covered you. Trying to keep the blood from flowing too much to the south.

"You talk too much." you blurted out.

"Sorry?" he asked in confusion "What are you—?"

Your actions, as was your wording, were automatic. You took a couple of steps forward and faintly heard his inquiring voice in the background, but you didn't quite care. You were aiming for a goal: to make him shut up. Your lips attached to his in a frustrated kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

He was dubfounded to a point where his movements also became clumsy, he stepped on a random book that was misplaced and lost his balance. His hands had gripped onto your sides, so you couldn't help but to fall onto the ground along with him.

The rucks caused him to wince in discomfort, a sensation the only lasted about the three seconds that took him to open his eyes. Due to the angle, you had given an extra step and fallen a couple more centimeteres forward, your towel spread open, and your stomach at the same level of his eyes.

While you yourself figured out what was going on, a sudden rush of embarassment overtook you. Logically, since you were now bare naked hovering over your crush.

"Shit!" you yelled out as you were on your knees and palms on the ground "I'm so sorry, Spencer, I don't know what took over me!"

Beridden by anguish, instead of taking the sensible action of rolling off of him, you tried to crawl your way forward. What you didn't see coming, however, was the fact that, as your knees pressed next to his head when you tried to drag yourself from his sight, his hands would press against your thighs to stop you.

Your core was now loitering over his face, out in the open for his eyes to devour. For once, he had found himself amiss of words. You, on your part, were hot to your face with shyness. This had not been what you planned when you decided to kiss him, certainly. Although, such train of thought would be shortly stopped by Spencer himself.

His arms curled around your thighs instead and gently tugged them down; by the time to were 'sitting' on his face, his tongue was already out. The feeling of his muscle entering you caused a loud, startled gasp from you, and before you could get used to the sensation, it traveled further up to your clit.

"Spencer..." you whimpered slightly at the pleasure he was giving you.

You decided to straighten your back to be fully sitting, and in this new position you were in control of your own hips, same that began to rock back and forth against his lips. On his part, single grunts of delight could be heard, his hands positioned themselves at your buttocks, helping you push your body against his face.

His mouth was eager to taste more of you, you could feel the entirety of it working it's way around your pussy, his lips slurping the juices that dripped from you out of arousal. Your hands curled on his hair to prevent you from falling to the side, given that your legs were about close to giving in.

His nose and chin did their part as well, touching nerves that would be otherwise unattended in any other position. The rubbing and moiture of his abused face were sending waves of intense pleasure through out your body, in fact, at some point you sort of forgot he was there, eyes tight shut, just using him to get yourself off.

Hence, why when you finally reached your climax, you came without restraint all over him. His tongue didn't start working inspite of your body falling limp forward, he was set on cleaning the mess he had created.

You whined in complaint at the slight overstimulation, and he took it as a sign to push you off, causing you to roll over as you should initially have. Instead of moving away from you, his face was buried between your legs the instead he was on his stomach, hardworking tongue lazily tasting around your entrance.

"You finally shut up." your back arched as you breathed out, bracing yourself of the next round you quickly understood was coming.

"I have an enough good reason to."

[galedekarios]

a while ago, as i was playing gale's origin, i was talking about his "i cast my first spell whilst still a babe." line with my friends @lairofsentinel, @shibepetter and @voliialpha, bouncing ideas off of each other. i also made this post about it.

when halsin asks you to share a story about you, origin gale has the possibility to answer as follows:

Gale: I cast my first spell whilst still a babe. My mother took an awful fright when I conjured up a score of rabbits in the pantry. Halsin: Ha! Talented from the very beginning, then? Almost surprised you didn't cast magic in the womb.

now we have this new bit of information from one elminster's possible epilogue letters, revealing that gale cast fireball, a third level spell, at eight years old:

Elminster: You could have been no more than eight summers’ old, clutching your mother’s apron, eyebrows singed off by the fireball you’d unleashed into your neighbour’s rose bush. You were crying because the flowers were so beautiful, and you did mean to destroy them. How kind, how eager, how brilliant you were. And yet so naive. 

adding to this gale's background reveal dialogue, where he says that he could not only "control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet", i'm more and more inclined to think that gale is a sorcerer with a wizard's education.

he would be a very rare type of sorcerer. sorcerers usually have different sources from where they draw their powers from. for gale's case, it seems to be from the weave itself.

this is just a theory of course, but i do enjoy playing around with the idea. of him chosing to study, to not simply be content with his natural gifts and talents, but improving his craft to the best of his considerable abilities.

[fatuismooches]

More Dottore and Fragile Reader voice lines, except it's your turn this time. A part two to this. Previous voice lines are here.

About Prime Dottore:

"Zandik. My one and only… words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. I refuse to forget any moment I've spent with him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I’ve given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don’t know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be… less of a burden on him…”

About Omega:

"Omega, huh... he is the only segment where I always spend time with completely alone. See, he's not prone to sharing, just like Prime. I don't mind much, honestly, it's nice to get away from all of the noise and be with him. He always coaxes me to be more selfish too... is it a good or bad thing he's influencing me?"

About Alpha:

"Yes, the grumpy cutie I met all those years ago, the start of it all. He says that my presence is a hindrance and it only disrupts his work, but we both know that's false. Often, I like to sit by him as he writes his notes, pointing out all the errors caused by the atrocity of his handwriting... Sometimes, I feel bad using him as a reminder of the past."

About Beta:

"It always baffles me that Beta was once how Dottore acted. I mean, have you seen the difference between 'Mega and Beta? Anyway... he's always such a fun segment to hang around! Even when his assistants cower behind me in fear! Oh, and whenever he goes 'he-he-ho-ho', it always makes me giggle. Please don't tell him I did that impression of him though."

About Delta:

"Oh, Delta's... pretty mean. A really big meanie, if I do say so myself. He never laughs, never smiles, never entertains my shenanigans, always sees right through me... so rude. Huh? Don't worry about me, I'm allowed to talk about him like this. I still love him, after all."

About Zeta:

"Zeta's always so elusive! It was such a pain to track him down at first, he was always avoiding me. I thought he hated me... but once I got a hold of him, he is always so attentive to me! However, it greatly saddens me that he thinks he "failed" me... and yet he doesn't know how much it hurts me more that I've caused him to be like this."

About Zandy:

"Have you met my son? He's the sweetest little thing, isn't he? I remember how shy he was in the beginning, but he quickly grew to be such a dear. Always so excited and eager for attention. I can't help but wonder if Dottore's life could have been different if more people were kinder to him as a child."

About Pierro:

"I will always be indebted to him and Her Highness for taking me in. He is pretty scary to be around, but I feel sort of bad for him. I can't imagine how much responsibility he has... I once promised him I'd work for the Fatui once I'm better, but he didn't react much. Hmph, I'll show him how much I can boost Dottore's efficiency!"

About Capitano:

"The only thing I really know about him is that he's incredibly strong and well respected, at least from other people. The single time I met him, I also learned he was quite well liked by animals too, but it's hard to get any more information when he's so quiet..."

About Columbina:

"Bina is the best friend I've always wanted. I'm glad she's always there for me whenever things go bad. Although I can never predict what she's going to do or say, which is pretty strange, considering who I'm with, that makes her company all the more fun. Still, the amount of embarrassing situations she's tricked me into with Dottore... makes my head hurt."

About Arlecchino:

"I wish we could be closer, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I can't really blame her though, the relationship between her and Dottore is... not the greatest, for reasons I understand. I wonder what she thinks of me, the person who still stands by his side despite his sins?"

About Pulcinella:

"Oh... the little grandpa? I've always wondered how he's the fifth rank, but there's probably more to it than I know. Regardless, I didn't expect him to be so kind to me. I only see him once in a while, but every time he seems to know how I'm doing. And then, he proceeds to give me the best advice, exactly what I needed to hear at that moment, even when it has to do with Dottore. It's kind of scary..."

About Scaramouche:

"Ah yes... the Balladeer. He always wants to start up something with me whenever we cross paths, which is why my patience runs very thin around him. I hope the next time he goes into the Abyss, he gets stuck there."

About Wanderer:

"Who?"

About Sandrone:

"Her research sounds so cool! I've seen some of the things she can create, and it's completely fascinating. I too once had a love for machines back when I was a student. It's just a shame she never comes out of her lab... there are never any chances for me to talk with her. Well, I can always talk with Alpha and Beta about their research at least."

About La Signora:

"I've barely ever seen or spoken to her, but she has my respect. I heard what happened to her husband. If I ever lost Dottore, I'm not sure if I'd be able to go on... or at least be as half as strong as she is."

About Pantalone:

"Oh, Lone's one of my good friends! He always has such unique ideas for me to get back at Dottore, and listening to him talk about his theories quite reminds me of listening to Dottore. He's helped me a lot, dealing with this man. Still... as he does with everyone, I'm kept at arm's length. It doesn't bother me, but I wish I could help him in some way. But I know that'll never be possible."

About Childe:

"Despite being a Harbinger, he's a lot nicer than you'd think. Well, especially compared to the others in the Fatui. He's great at conversation, his family is the sweetest... and he always promises to spar with me once I'm no longer sick. Truly great company. Too bad Dottore's attitude toward him is... less than favorable."

About Furina:

"At first I hated her just like all the other Gods, but after learning the truth, I can't help but greatly respect her. To take on such a burden without having a single shoulder to lean on and succeed in the end... I think I've been through a lot of pain, but at least I've had Dottore and the others to ease it even just a bit. But she had no one, and I admire her will."

About Nahida:

"I try not to waste my time on things that upset me. It's not good for my health."

Sprint Start:

"No, no, I am not running at all. Look, if I get hurt and Dottore finds out it was your fault, you'll be the ones strapped to the table, not me. Hey... I wouldn't mind being in that position, actually."

Chat - Worry:

"I hope that one day he can make peace with himself."

Chat - Old Times:

"Sometimes I wish I was just a simple student again, having no worries other than my grades and pulling all-nighters with Dottore. Actually, that doesn't really sound relaxing, does it?"

Chat - Idling:

"If you're just going to stand here doing nothing, then I'm going to take a seat over there."

When it Snows:

"Would you be willing to distract Dottie so I can chuck a snowball at him? No? How boring."

When the Sun is Out:

"It's a perfect day to have a picnic and listen to him rant again."

In the Desert:

"... Omega, Beta, Delta, I don't care which one of you does it, get over here and make your hands completely ice cold before I faint."

Something to Share - Talent:

"If you ever need help writing something, you can ask me. I wrote some pretty good essays back in the day, you know. Dottore once said I should even write a book! I thought he was bullying me, but he was actually serious, for some reason. Maybe I should get Zandy to draw some pictures?"

Something to Share - Secret:

"Dottore actually has quite a sweet tooth. Well, this probably isn't much of a secret anymore because I accidentally spilled it to the agents, but it would do you good to keep this in mind."

Interesting Things - Foxttore:

"This little guy here? He'll do you no harm unless I say so, so don't worry. He was one of Dottie's failed experiments roaming the lab until he gifted the creature to me! These pufflings too, surprisingly they help me a lot more than you'd think. They're pretty strong, carrying all my things."

Favorite Pastimes - Meals:

"It's time to eat already? No need to worry about me, I'll just wait for a segment. See, it's best for both of us if I have company while I eat. My hands... aren't the most reliable."

Troubles:

"I am very happy that they have a good place to conduct all the research they want, but I wish they paid some more attention to me sometimes. Voicing this complaint over and over again, however, is too exhausting."

Amusement:

"Dottore's fan club never ceases to amuse me. I know every Harbinger has one but... it's completely hilarious. To go so far as creating a handbook about the two of us... well, I appreciate the dedication and the laughs, especially when I update Dottore on their activities. He may not care, but I support them!"

[lizzie-boo]

Baby, You're My Type

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Words: 804

Summary: When someone unexpected asks you on a date it brings some new information to light. And long-overdue conversations are had.

A/N: Slowly getting back into writing, I'm very rusty so please bear with me. Hope you enjoy it. I should have a few more small fics coming out in the next few days while I still have some time off.

The Hellfire club was just finishing up a section of their campaign when you burst through the door, eager to share your news. You throw yourself into an open seat, leg bouncing as you wait for Eddie to stop talking. You lean over the table, fingers tapping as you stare at your best friend. 

As soon as he closes his mouth the words were spilling out, “The funniest thing ever just happened.” 

Everyone begins packing their things and Eddie quirks a brow in your direction. When all you do is stare at him with a wide grin he gestures for you to continue. 

“Jason just asked me on a date,” you laugh as the rest of the room goes quiet. The older members of the group are quick to rush out the door not wanting to see where this conversation goes. Dustin on the other hand stops shoving papers into his backpack and settles in, ready to watch the drama. 

Lucas and Mike tug at his arms, not wanting to stick around longer than necessary. “Let’s go,” Mike hisses. His eyes darting between you and Eddie.  

"Now," Lucas urges.

“I want to see how this plays out,” Dustin whines, catching your attention. Your laughing dies as you take in the worried look of the younger group members and realize that maybe your news wasn’t as funny as you thought. 

“You should go out with him.” You whip around, eyes wide. The click of the door behind you is all you need to let you know that only you and Eddie are left to finish this conversation. 

You open and close your mouth, trying to figure out the right combination of words. Something that will get through to Eddie and let him know just how ridiculous he is being. Before you can find the words Eddie continues, “I mean you do seem excited about it.” 

Finally you stand up and make your way toward him, leaning on the table just in front of his chair.  Your fingers wrap around the edge of the table, gripping it tight. 

“I was only excited to share the news because it’s crazy and I found it funny.” 

“I don’t see what would be that funny about it.” He leans forward in his seat. The small gap between you grows smaller but neither of you back down. The smell of his cheap cologne floods your senses and for a moment you forget what you are talking about. 

“He’s not my type, not even close to my type. Everyone knows that, so it’s funny that he thought he would ever have a chance.” The way you lips quirk up at the end of your sentence is not missed by Eddie. His eyes practically glued to your lips as you speak. 

“Are you sure, he seems like he would be your type.” There’s an edge to his voice that has you gripping the table harder. How can he still think that you would be into someone like Jason when you have always made it clear that you would never be caught dead with someone that arrogant. 

You chew on your lip, contemplating if you really want to say what you’re about to. Taking a deep breath you tell Eddie, “My type is metalheads, with crazy hair, tattoos, and a love for nerdy things like dungeons and dragons.” 

He taps his fingers against the arm of his chair, pretending to think about your revelation. You scan the room, trying to find anything to hold your attention so you can avoid looking at Eddie. 

“I thought you said everyone knew your type, but I never knew that’s what you’re into.” He stands from his chair inching ever closer. His warm breath hits your face and finally you turn your gaze back to him. 

Your heart flutters as you take him in up close. Mustering all the courage in you, you tell him, “I made it painfully obvious for so long, but in case you still can’t see it this should help.” 

He quirks a brow at your cryptic words and you bunch your hands in his shirt pulling him closer. Pressing your lips into his you let out all the pent up emotion you have been holding in. His arm slips around your waist pulling you closer as his other slides up to cup your cheek. 

When you pull back, you can’t help but to smile. “In case it still wasn’t clear, you’re my type Eddie, just you.” 

“Hmm, I never would’ve guessed,” he jokes. “That’s good though, ‘cause baby, you're my type too.” 

Lifting you slightly he sets you fully on the table intent on making up for lost time. As your lips find his you wrap your legs around his waist and get lost in the happiness of finally being with Eddie.

[room-surprise]

Analysis of Laios and how he hugs/interacts with people, pre and post-manga.

Reading body language in real life is basically pseudo-science most of the time, however, these aren't candid photographs of real people I'm analyzing, they are drawings purposefully made by Ryoko Kui to tell us something about Laios and his relationships with other characters.

These illustrations are designed on purpose to communicate information. So what do I think they say?

Here's the illustration of how things are at the start of the manga:

NAMARI AND CHILCHUCK

They're both rough towards Laios, expressing displeasure with him, using violent physical touch to get his attention or punish him for something.

TOSHIRO

His reaction to Laios is totally passive. He isn't turned towards Laios, but he isn't turning away either. He's staring up into space with a look of discomfort, suggesting he wishes Laios would leave him alone... But that he is too polite to openly reject him.

We know this is partially a cultural issue: because Toshiro is Japanese, he considers it catastrophically rude to tell someone "no" in a blunt way. He is trying to communicate his discomfort and disinterest to Laios, but Laios isn't understanding Toshiro's signals.

Meanwhile, Laios is turning his whole body towards Toshiro, his eyes are wide open, he's smiling. He's very eager to interact, in a way that he isn't with any other character on this page except Falin.

MARCILLE

They are having a neutral interaction. Neither of them seems excited or interested in each other, but they are talking seriously. Marcille is gesturing at Laios in a way that seems scolding, they are standing at a polite distance, and Laios is standing at his full height, perhaps even leaning/straining away from Marcille slightly. There is a physical object (Marcille's staff) acting as a barrier, and it's physically pushing Laios away from her.

But it is worth noting that he has his hand on the staff, suggesting that he's not letting himself be pushed away any further, that he's having a reciprocal interaction with Marcille, not a passive one where he just stands there and gets lectured. Laios is participating and engaged.

FALIN AND SENSHI

The only people having unambiguously positive interactions with Laios on this page, which makes sense since they are the two people who are the most friendly towards him at the start of the manga.

Laios and Falin are touching hands, smiling and their bodies are turned towards each other, showing enthusiasm and a mutual interest. This is less intense than the hug in the post-manga illustrations, which maybe suggests that there's something distant and unresolved between them here, like resentment and guilt.

Laios and Senshi are closer to each other than Laios and Marcille. Laios is sitting or crouched down to get closer to Senshi's height, and they are both smiling and turned towards each other. Senshi may even be laughing!

Here's the "post-manga" image...

What a huge difference!

All of these interactions are basically positive, so I'll just go left to right, top to bottom. Also for some of these, we can't see Laios' friends full reactions, so I'll focus on what we can see, and how Laios is behaving.

SENSHI

They share a gentle hug. They both have their arms wrapped around each other, so the desire to touch is mutual. Laios bends to reach Senshi, and has a calm, content smile on his face while they hug. Laios rests his head on top of Senshi's head, showing trust and intimacy and a desire to be physically even closer to Senshi than just hugging. Senshi isn't pulling away, so I think that's a good indicator that he doesn't mind it, and possibly even likes it!

Which is a big change from how he felt violated by Laios touching his chest earlier in the manga, even though Laios was trying to heal him... I think Senshi isn't someone that easily lets others touch him, so this is a big improvement.

CHILCHUCK

The size difference makes this hug awkward, but that's not the only reason! Laios has both hands on Chilchuck and he is bending down in order to reach him, suggesting that he wants to embrace his friend, however Chilchuck is not straining to reach Laios, and he is only using one hand to touch him, suggesting that Chilchuck doesn't want to embrace too closely. Chilchuck is willing to allow a hug, and he is willing to touch Laios back, but he doesn't want it as much as Laios does.

I think Laios is aware of this, because he isn't trying to push the hug to a higher level of intensity. He's holding back to the level he thinks Chilchuck is comfortable with.

MARCILLE

They share a happy, but not overly intimate hug. Their chests and bodies are pressed together, but they are turning their heads away from each other.

Laios' hands are resting side by side on Marcille's back, and it seems like she is hugging him back in a similarly loose way. His arms are not overlapping, and they aren't squeezing or grabbing each other, just holding on lightly while pressing their chests together.

TOSHIRO

What a fascinating set of drawings!

I'm going to assume that the color drawing is what happens first, and the black and white line drawing is what happens afterwards, solely because if the black and white drawing is meant to just be Laios' fantasy of hugging Toshiro, then surely he would imagine Toshiro hugging him back enthusiastically, and not a more passive reaction like Kui drew.

Kui wrote a note here to remind readers that hugging is not considered normal in "the East", where Toshiro is from, to give context to why the character seems so uncomfortable.

Laios is approaching Toshiro at high speed, arms open and reaching for Toshiro, eyes wide, with a happy expression. He clearly wants to wrap Toshiro up in a big, enthusiastic hug.

Toshiro is sweating with discomfort, and he has a hand pressed against Laios' chest, attempting to stop him… However, the arm is not extended and his elbow is bent at an acute angle, and it looks as if no force is being applied. Toshiro perhaps feels a need to offer a token protest, but he isn't really trying to stop Laios.

In the black and white hug drawing, Laios has both arms wrapped tight around Toshiro, much tighter than Senshi, Chilchuck or Marcille, and he's pressing their bodies together and resting his head on Toshiro's shoulder. He's turning his face towards Toshiro's neck, and smiling serenely.

Toshiro's body is stiff, he's sweating, and his arm is held at a rigid 90 degree angle… But he isn't using it to push Laios away, just holding it uselessly at his side. Perhaps he is half-way towards returning the hug, thinking about lifting his arm a little higher and resting his hand on Laios' back, but he isn't sure if he wants to do that yet.

Toshiro is bending his body towards Laios, and allowing himself to be pressed against the other man. He's staring out into space with a neutral expression that suggests either discomfort or surprise. I think we're meant to understand that he has given up fighting against the foreign, offensive hug, realizing that it isn't offensive for Laios, and therefore it might be okay to allow it...and it might actually be more offensive if he rejected the hug.

FALIN

Falin has thrown herself at Laios with considerable force, and Laios has his arms overlapping across Falin's back. They are both squeezing each other tightly with their arms, and even Laios' hands are gripping Falin tightly. There is an overjoyed look on Laios' face, and I think this embrace shows how Laios has healed through the course of the story.

KABRU

Since Kabru is one of Laios' newest friends, it makes sense that the hug would be the least intimate.

The two of them have a complicated relationship in the manga, but the complete world bible shows that Laios has finally accepted that Kabru is genuinely his friend and not just trying to use or manipulate him. He's made an effort in the post-canon to reach out and try to be Kabru's friend in return, and Kabru has forgiven Laios for not listening to him in the past.

Kabru is turning his body away from Laios, which puts his shoulder towards Laios' shoulder at a perpendicular angle, forcing distance between them. Laios is fully facing Kabru, and has one arm behind his back, a hand resting on Kabru's shoulder, and another hand resting on his chest. The hand on the chest is attached to an arm that is bent at an obtuse angle, holding Kabru at a distance, with no indication that he is trying to pull Kabru in. Both hands are relaxed, like in the Marcille hug, indicating that Laios' grasp is loose.

This arm position is pretty unusual for an embrace. It allows Laios to keep Kabru at a distance where he can see him, and control where he moves, and how close he's able to get to Laios… and Kabru isn't returning the hug in any way, instead allowing himself to be touched and held in place.

Their bodies aren't pressed together, and Kabru's arm is down at his side, neither encouraging Laios nor pushing him away.

Laios has a big smile on his face, and he looks enthusiastic. Kabru on the other hand has a calm smile. In my opinion his expression is less enthusiastic than Marcille's.

I think Laios can't tell how Kabru feels about the hug, and so he's holding himself back. He's not blinded by emotion like he is with Toshiro, so he's not flinging himself at Kabru… And because Kabru is such a new friend, Laios is also probably hesitant to get too close to him.

There may also be some lingering trust issues, if Laios still isn't completely certain if Kabru genuinely likes him or not. Laios has often had trouble telling if people really like him, or if they are just being polite (Toshiro), or using him (former party members), so it makes sense that it would take awhile for him and Kabru to become truly comfortable with each other..

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 35. change my world

"I CAN'T STAY FOR LONG," were the first words out of Jay's mouth as soon as you opened the door for him. "I've gotta finish a project when I get back home. She changed the deadline to—hey, what's wrong?"

You looked crestfallen for a moment, but as soon as Jay pointed it out, you perked right back up again. He took a second to study your expression before stepping into your foyer. Your penthouse was always a little intimidating; growing up, Jay couldn't even imagine stepping foot in a place so lavish.

"Nothing. Just trying to make myself busy for next weekend so I don't have to visit my dad," you replied with an unamused laugh. "You free?"

"I don't think either of us will be; Jennie sent us all a text a few hours ago." He held up his phone to show you the messages. "She wants us to be free the entire weekend."

"Friday and the weekend?" you read off the screen before frowning. "Is that when we get hazed?"

Jay shrugged before he cracked a smile. "Guess you don't have to visit your dad, at least." This was perhaps the perfect opportunity for him to get more information on your family—a golden opportunity considering you brought up your father on your own. Before you could change the topic, he pressed on, "But why don't you wanna see him?"

"It's a long story." You sighed, but it didn't seem like you were unwilling to divulge. Your eyes were gleaming a little, and Jay wanted to believe that you were hoping he'd stay. "How about I tell you over ramen?"

He pulled off his jacket before reaching your dining table. There was only one bowl of ramen set out, so Jay paused before he proceeded to sit down. To his surprise, you sat a chair away, looking up at him expectantly.

"Where's yours?" He didn't mean for there to be an edge of suspicion to his voice, but Jay couldn't understand why you wouldn't make a bowl for yourself.

You propped your elbow on the table to rest your chin in your palm. "I just wanted you to try it. How does it taste?"

"You should eat, too."

"Later—just try it!"

Since you seemed so eager, Jay picked up the noodles with his chopsticks and ate a mouthful, humming with delight when the flavor hit his tongue. He looked over to see you beaming at him with anticipation, and he nearly felt his chest stutter from how flustered he felt as you stared at him.

"Good"—he coughed after swallowing down his food too quickly—"it's really good."

You swelled with pride, and before you could open your mouth to respond, Jay cut you off by holding up another mouthful of noodles to your mouth. His other hand was cupped below where the noodles were dangling from the chopsticks.

Like that, you and Jay started talking about school and the Order while you shared the bowl of ramen. Not about whatever was going on with you and your father. There wasn't much to catch up considering he had seen you several times over the past week, but conversation somehow felt so easy with you.

Jay had never been a people person; his social battery was low and he had no interest in expanding his circle. Ever since he moved to Connecticut, his world seemed to grow a little bigger.

And it seemed as though he had a space carved out for you in his heart, but Jay was sure he would be a fool if he tried to fill that void.

The conversation eventually moved to the couch after you and Jay had finished eating and nearly tackled each other to wash the bowl and chopsticks in the sink. Jay was feeling overly-conscious of your knee touching his and the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the space between you two.

It was when you were showing Jay a picture of your dog, Butters, when you brought up your father again.

(Jay had been secretly hopeful that you wouldn't mention him. The more you told him about your life, the more it tore him up inside as he realized he either had to betray you or his client.)

"Butters always gets so happy whenever I'm home," you said with a pout, staring at the picture of your Pomeranian facing the wind. "He must really miss my mom, too." You looked up at Jay again, grinning sheepishly when you saw the confused look on his face. "It was this whole thing from when I was a kid. My parents are separated, but they're not divorced... it's weird. Their relationship was rocky for a long time, but back in freshman year, my mom decided to just leave as soon as I left for Yale. I guess me moving out for college was what she was waiting for."

Jay's heart clenched painfully and he murmured, "I'm sorry. Is that why you didn't wanna see your dad?"

"Pretty much." With a heavy sigh, you leaned your head against Jay's shoulder. He stiffened up for a moment before relaxing—even scooting a little bit closer. "I just keep waiting for them to get together and make up again so that we can go back to being a family. It's, like"—you sniffled—"so annoying."

Another sniffle. You wiped at your eyes furiously, as if you were mad that they even dared to water. Jay kept his gaze down, unsure if you were comfortable with him watching you cry. He wished he wasn't so useless in these situations. You froze up for a moment when Jay brought his hand close to your face, but you closed your eyes and let him wipe a stray tear away.

"You can't tell anyone, okay? No one else knows about this, like, no one," you continued. "Especially not Sunoo."

"Of course I won't," Jay replied, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, "but Sunoo?"

"My mom and his dad used to date, apparently," you said, picking at your nails now. "That's why my dad thinks she wants to leave him."

"Sunoo's dad? But—"

"I really shouldn't get into it any further," you interjected quickly, "because that's Sunoo's business, too."

Sunoo never shared much about his family, so this was all news to Jay. Yet, he was sure he would have found out earlier if your mother was currently with Sunoo's father. Sunoo would've mentioned it, wouldn't he? What was your mother's motive then? Why would she walk out if her intent wasn't to leave her husband for an old flame?

Furthermore, Jay hardly realized that he kept gravitating closer and closer to you, but by the time your head was against his chest and his arm was around your shoulders, he realized he couldn't back away without offending you. He just hoped you weren't able to hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

"Is that why you two fell out?" he asked gently.

"Kind of." You angled your neck so that you could look up at Jay. "What about your family? You're always so mysterious."

"Mysterious? You've been to my apartment before."

"Not that—I just wanna know if you have secrets, too."

Jay swallowed thickly. "Everyone has secrets."

"But I wanna know more about you—your story, where you came from," you pressed, shifting your position so that you were facing him. Jay found it hard to breathe when you were so close. "I feel like you hide so much under the surface."

You have no idea, he thought, rueful.

Jay couldn't think of anything in particular that he could tell you, though. The only secrets he had were ones that he had to keep from you no matter what, especially when it came down to his work as a private investigator.

There was one thing, he supposed, that changed him forever. It wouldn't have done him any good to tell you about it—not when the very thought made his throat close up and his eyes water. He didn't even want to see the look on your face when you found out what he had done, what his client had on him.

"You're, like, insanely smart, too," you breathed out. "How is it you know everything? You even impressed everyone in the Order."

"I wouldn't say everything."

You shot him a pointed look. "Dr. Corvera literally offered you a research internship after lecture."

"Whoa." A faint smirk crept to his lips. "Are you stalking me or what?"

"I just happened to eavesdrop." Jay was far too delighted with the way you shied away from him. "But, seriously, why don't you give yourself enough credit? You're like... Master Oogway."

"The turtle? From Kung Fu Panda?" Jay deadpanned.

"Well, he's a tortoise."

"See? I didn't know that."

You scoffed lightly, voice dropping low as you rattled on, "And you're really good at Calculus, too... and you have a perfect GPA. Are you sure you're not—"

"I'm two years older, remember?" Jay cut you off before he could hear any of your theories, hoping that none of them implied that he was any more of an outsider than he felt. "I know how to code and I know around twenty programming languages, so the math sort of comes with that."

His answer only seemed to inspire more amazement in your eyes, and Jay suddenly felt hot even without his jacket.

"My only useful strength is talking to people," you said with a crooked grin, "which is why I'm pretty good at interviews and making people like me."

"I can tell. You're always the center of everything."

"Rude."

"That's not a bad thing," Jay said, shooting you a sideways glance. "People naturally gravitate toward you. You're just..." The whole package was what Jay wanted to say, but he was afraid that would get deeply misinterpreted, so he settled for saying, "You're just perfect."

Perhaps that wording was at greater risk for being deeply misinterpreted.

Your lips were parted for a moment—whether it was from shock or repulsion, Jay didn't want to know—and your eyes had a new gleam to them that he hadn't seen before. He wondered if his comment made you blush because you kept your head ducked down.

(And he wanted to kiss you. He really wanted to kiss you. This wasn't something Jay wanted to make obvious, but he found his gaze lingering on your lips for far too long before he managed to look away.)

He suddenly felt his mouth go dry while his heart did stupid backflips that you were sure to hear. How was he supposed to get himself out of this one? No, no, that wasn't what he meant—oh, but that was exactly what he meant.

"I'm not perfect at all," you said with a laugh. "Is that how you see me?" You shook your head. "I wish I was good at things like you are. I'm not as ambitious as you are either, which is a total waste. I always feel like someone else should've been born in my place."

That certainly would've made this mission much easier for him, but he felt as though your perception of him was misplaced. Ambition? Jay only wanted to help people, and he deduced over the years that he was terrible at that.

"I'm not that great as you're making me out to be," he said. "I'm really happy you think of me like that, but it's not like I've... changed the world or anything."

Jay remembered when he graduated college with Jake. Back then, Jay still had stars in his eyes and hopes for the future. Despite everyone who told him that his skills were better suited for a high-profile job complete with exploitation and corruption, Jay knew that he wanted to do something meaningful.

But that never happened. He was never going to save anyone.

You hesitated before you said, "You changed mine."

Jay sadly smiled at you, mostly because if you ever found out who he truly was, then you would quickly realize that he had probably changed your life for the worst.

Instead, he admitted in a soft voice, "You changed mine, too."

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ longish chapter to make up for the tiny break i took 🫶

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @zerasari @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct @hooniesuniverse @enhalov @enhypens-baby @isawritesss

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

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

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[leonw4nter]

Hellooo, may I request reader dating a Spiderman! Leon (I'm such as a sucker for re2 Leon and the thought of him as spiderman) hcs??? He thinks he does a good enough job covering up his superhero identity, but unfortunately for him reader had that figured out for quite a while. He's not as sneaky/careful as he thinks he is hehe

So If You Need A Hero, Just Look In The Mirror!

[Spiderman!RE2!Leon x GN!Reader]

Leon has long been Spiderman before he decided to date you, hiding this aspect of him when he was courting you to let him be your boyfriend. He felt guilty that he had to hide his masked persona from you but he knows that it’s for the best in order to keep everyone close to him safe. An ordinary 21 year-old officer in blues by day, a web-shooting hero swinging from the buildings of Raccoon City by night.

You know that Spiderman exists and you admire him, doodling his mask on the corners of blank papers when the day is slow and idle; what you don’t know is that your boyfriend is Spiderman. Yet even without that knowledge, you consider yourself incredibly lucky to have someone so gentle and kind like he is; not everyone has a boyfriend that is patient and slow to anger.

You both would schedule dates and Leon’s schedule is free when all of a sudden, he has to go somewhere and reschedule the date. He would always appear sheepish and regretful when he had to break the news to you, especially when you were so eager to try out the dishes at the restaurant you two had reserved. You asked about it and he always responded with “it’s complicated” in a bashful and silent voice so you thought that it had something to do with a difficult family situation or a tough work environment. He usually didn’t share about them and you didn’t prod for more information, offering comfort and reassurance instead yet you still wondered what disrupts his evenings like this. You were confused about this habit but not overly suspicious.

You noticed that Leon would frequently come home with small cuts and bruises to the face, arms, hands, and torso.

“Leon, what are they making you do at work?! Why do you always come home battered in bruises?!” You exclaim as you look at the cut in the high point of Leon’s cheek, light pink and still bleeding slightly. His face is on your palms, tilted to the side as you try to get a better look at his injuries.

“You know how crime is now, they’re getting more violent,” Leon explains as he tries to ease your worries. “A few delinquents got me but I’m still in one piece.”

“But still!” You reasoned as worry creased your forehead. “Aren’t there other officers with you too?”

“Yes there are and they’re just as injured as I am,” he responds. He really wants to give you the honest explanation of his wounds– the fact that they’re from fighting crime as a hero named after an arachnid and not because of a rough encounter with some petty criminals– but he can’t; it’ll put you in harm’s way. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I didn’t graduate at the top of my academy for nothing, did I?”

You sigh and nod, but not before you look Leon sternly in the eyes with a pout. “But that doesn’t mean you’re totally invincible, Leon.”

He smiles, listening to you scold him on and on while you dab ointment on his wounds.

Leon often catches things as they fall mid-air and reacts faster than the average person, which both his partner and coworkers notice. The station attributes the replacement of the old bookshelf due to his sharp senses, having informed the station that they had to find a new one to take its place. Leon simply heard a tiny, faint creak of one of the planks holding up dense files which meant that about any time now, if they didn’t take any action, it would collapse and cause a mess. He always explained it with him having a sharp sense of hearing and being agile but in reality, it’s because of his heightened senses that he developed after the bite.

Whenever the news of Spiderman comes in the news, he’s always ready to drop whatever he was doing and see himself on the TV by footage of people who've seen him with the mask and suit. He watches intently, worried that his identity would be leaked and even a single frame of his face would be identified even if he makes sure that his mask always stays on. You chalk up his keen fascination with the hero as admiration and being a fan-boy, chuckling at the sight of seeing his boyfriend look so serious as he watches the friendly neighbourhood hero save the day once again.

You went home early one day, pleased that your boss decided to close up hours ahead of your usual closing time. When you got home, the house was dark save for the small beam of light peeking through the gaps at the bottom of the storage closet’s door. Interested, you walked close and heard some thudding and heavy breathing coming from the closed door. You swiftly turn the knob and walk in to see Leon standing half naked in his boxer shorts and a red something bunched out behind him on the floor. New bruises and scratches adorned his muscular torso, yet to be cleaned and tended to by your boyfriend in front of you.

“Leon?!” You bellowed. “What the fuck were you doing?!”

His hands come up to cover the bruises, looking at you with a terrified expression as a flush blooms in his cheeks and chest.

“Listen, I can explain–”

“Are you cheating on me?! Is that a girl’s dress behind you–”

“No, sweetheart, please– I’m not cheating on you or anything like that! You know I’d never do that to you–”

“I’m giving you 3 minutes to talk, Kennedy. Start. Now.”

Leon fumbles around, trying to find something– anything– to cover up with but he gives up, nearly bare as he tries to survive the crushing pressure of the situation. He starts off by picking up the red something you eyed earlier, holding it out properly so you can truly see that it is not a dress but a bodysuit with details resembling webs.

“I’m… I’m Spiderman.”

“I have a mental facility on speed dial–”

“No!” He turns his wrist to face skyward and shoots a web that aimed for your phone, snatching it out of your grasp. Your cellphone is now in his hand. “Is that enough proof or do I also need to lay eggs like a spider does so you’ll believe me.”

“No!” Now it’s your turn to explain, swatting him on the shoulder as you take the phone back. “Fine, fine. I believe you. But I did have the idea that you’re him for a long time now.”

The color from Leon’s face drained again, heart threatening to burst inside his chest.

“How… how…” he quietly asked as he tried to inspect your expression, trying to name an emotion based on your face.

“I mean… when you’re suddenly gone in the evening when we go on dates, you say you’re going to the RPD but you don’t rush home to get your bag with your permit and badges and stuff. When I get home and you’re still gone, it’s just sitting at the foot of your bed. You also always smell like something burnt or maybe rusty, which you don’t normally smell like when you get home from work. And don’t get me started on your injuries– they’re way too much for a police officer who apprehends petty criminals from time to time.”

The blond is at a loss for words, mouth bobbing up and down but with no words coming out.

“You look like a fish,” you comment. He blinks to ground himself and tries to calm down.

“I thought I did a good job at hiding it,” he softly mutters.

“For a while, I thought you were cheating on me and then I thought you were some gruesome murderer or something.”

“What?! No!” He exclaims, his hands waving to dismiss the idea. “Cheat?! Murder?! No, I’d never!”

“Good. So… you really are Spiderman.”

“Yeah… kind of relieved that this is out now, though I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You displayed some coldness towards your boyfriend for a little bit, letting him know that hiding things from you isn’t good and that he should’ve been open but you cut him some slack, acknowledging that he did it for your well-being and that it’s also hard on his part too because the weight of his double life can be crushingly heavy.

Leon’s become more comfortable, sometimes cracking a spider-related joke or two with you. Of course, he made you swear that you’ll be the only one to know who Spiderman really is and you promised– for the safety of everyone involved with Leon. Now with this information, sometimes you buy little spider-related trinkets or some Spiderman merchandise that stores sell to fluster him.

He’s decided to take it upon himself to teach you some self-defense moves in case a villain decides to use you to their evil plans in order to taunt Leon, a situation both of you hope will never happen.

One day, you asked Leon to wear the suit for you in your shared apartment. After locking all doors and shutting all blinds, he walks out of the storage closet he keeps his costume in and appears in front of you. He poses first and climbs to the ceiling, hanging upside down as he looks at you. Feeling a little daring that day, you ask if you can lift his mask up to the bridge of his nose and place a careful kiss on his lips as he’s still upside down, planning to ask you if you two can have upside down kisses more often after this one.

NOTE - Hi y'all! I'm back again (for now mwahaha) :D Thank you to graveyardgrrrrrl for requesting, hope you like this one 🤩 I'm so happy that I got to finish one request already, this one has been marinating in my doc for about a month now so I hope the wait is worth it! Thankful to the 4 hour free period I have to be able to cook this up >:) I've been up to a lot of things-- adjusting to a new school with a system different from my old school (I already lost aura multiple times...) and reading so I've been quite busy as I tried to come up with ideas for fics. I hope everyone's doing well, you got this and I believe in you :)) Anyway, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333333 UUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The blue web divider is made by @adornedwithlight , the images are from Pinterest.

[radio-writes]

Keep All Your Worries Aside

Alastor on his partner's birthday - Headcanons

Warnings: implied power imbalance, slight manipulation

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, fluff, self indulgent as hell

MDNI

Alastor used to adore birthdays when he was alive. It was the perfect time to get to know people; friends and targets alike.

He also got the chance to earn the person's favor, which was never a downside to him. He never knew when it would be useful to have those people on his side, after all.

Whenever he had partners in his lifetime, whether just for show or out of genuine care for their company, he spoiled the ever living heart out of them. Dinner, gifts, dancing, his absolute undivided attention—whatever they wanted and more he made sure to give it all to them.

It was unconsciously an addicting habit for him. He loved the way it made them so happy. How he knew he was the cause of their smiles and hence could just take it away any time he wanted to. How it made them so thankful to get to spend such a special time with him.

After he died, however, the excitement over birthdays was all but left behind in the mortal part of his existence.

Alastor didn't see the point of celebrating a birthday, specially when in Hell. After all, he was hard pressed to even find anyone that was happy about being born into this world, only to be stuck in such a miserable cesspool in the end.

And besides, not a lot of wandering souls even revealed that much of themselves anymore. Something as personal as a birthday was often kept a secret, in fear of it being used against them somehow.

Perhaps, sarcastically, he has brought up the idea here and there. If he knew it brought some sort of anguish or misery to some lowly sinner, why wouldn't he? 

But when it was his darling partner who just openly shared such information with him? Oh, he just couldn't help but to be interested.

Such a little act showed how much they trusted him, and he couldn't just let that go unpaid, could he? It would mean he would owe them, after all.

Alastor found that his old habits came back a lot faster than he expected them to. He found himself dragging his darling out all around the pentagram—whether they wanted to go or not—showing them off, showing them the sights, showing them a generally great time with his arm looped around theirs.

He bought every single thing they even glanced at, but he didn't dare burden their arms with holding it all. No, he had his shadow creatures trailing behind, carrying all his gifts for them.

Couldn't he just simply bring them into their room at the hotel? Of course! Easily so with a snap of his fingers. But that wouldn't be as fun as getting to show off just how well he could provide for his partner.

It's only when his dear finally asked him to ease up on the fanfare—they feared the trail of shadows would cause a traffic accident at this point—did Alastor finally stop and just transported their gifts to the hotel.

He took them out dancing, shopping, drinking. Always had a hand on them no matter what, to keep them close.

He found that old giddy feeling in his chest seeing his darling smile because of him—knowing he alone caused their happiness.

And when they thanked him at the end of it all? Said those oh so humble words

"I have no idea how to repay you for all of this."

Well, no one could blame him when his grin stretched just a tad bit wider. Eager, excited, thrilled. He hadn't exactly set out to earn any favors on their birthday, it was simply to pay back the trust they gave him.

But hey, he wouldn't turn down having his darling in debted to him. And he could certainly think of a few ways they could return the favor.

It is my birthday and if I say I want fluffy Al, I'm getting fluffy Al.

[thatdammchickennugget]

White Lie

PART THREE

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

summary - After accidentally telling your mom you have a new boyfriend, you have to resort to your last option and ask your old friend turned enemy for help.

warnings - fake dating trope, cursing, mention of cheating, some bullying, Enzo being a little mean, grumpy x sunshine vibes, university au set in the states, slight description of a panic attack, not proof read (sorry)

wordcount - 2.9k

a/n - this was a fun one to write, and yes part of it is heavily inspired by the movie anyone but you

series masterlist

As you and Enzo made your way past the parking lot of the bustling amusement park, the excitement in the air was contagious. The colourful rides, the sounds of laughter, and the scent of fried goods already filling your senses, momentarily distracting you from the tension with your family.

The car ride to your annual father's day trip to the park had felt longer than usual, with Caleb throwing a fit for almost the whole time, stressing out every single person in the car. Mason and Erica already looked like they regretted not leaving him with Thalia at Erica's parents place.

Finally, you arrived at the hotel where your family would be staying for the duration of the trip. Eager to settle in and put away your bag, you approached your mom, ready to retrieve the room key. You couldn't wait to change out of your crusty clothes into something less warm and run to the first rollercoaster you could find.

To your surprise, your mom wore a mischievous smile as she handed you a keycard. "Oh, a little surprise, dear! You and Enzo will be sharing a room after all!"

You blinked in astonishment, your mind struggling to process the unexpected twist. Sharing a room with Enzo? Just a couple of days ago your mom had called you, apologizing that they had already booked the rooms before being informed of the two of you dating. So, you had expected to share a room with your mom and dad, the way you had done ever since Mason got married, putting a stop to sharing a room with your siblings. You exchanged a bewildered glance with your fake boyfriend, trying to gage his reaction to the news.

Trying to regain your composure, you managed a weak smile. "Uh, really? That's... great."

Your mom chuckled, clearly enjoying the predicament. "Well, it took quite a bit of convincing on my part, I've been on the phone with the manager a lot this week. Unfortunately, the only room they had to offer has two single beds, but I'm sure you'll make do."

She ended her little explanation with a wink in your direction and you pulled your face into a grimace. "Ew, Mom. Please stop."

Enzo's eyebrows had shot up in surprise, mirroring your own feelings, but he quickly caught himself. "Don't worry about it, Janet. We don't mind cuddling up, do we Darling."

You had to remind yourself to lean into his touch when he lazily threw his arm around your shoulders, forcing a fond smile onto your face as you nodded in agreement. Sharing a room with him was a problem to deal with later, for now, you decided to make the best of it and enjoy the day.

As you entered the hotel, you and Enzo made your way to the designated room. Opening the door, you found a cozy and inviting space with two single beds, neatly arranged with colorful pillows.

You hesitated for a moment before turning to Enzo. "Well, I guess this is it. Our room."

Enzo grinned, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Looks like it.  Unless you're planning on making a run for it?"

You let out a not so pretty sounding snort, before turning your attention to the bed. "I'm considering it."

Enzo chuckled lightly, watching as you made a move towards the bed. Throwing your bag onto the mattress, you started rifling through it, pulling out a shirt and shorts. "Well I'm going to change and get out of here."

He gave a nod, making himself busy with his own bag as you rushed into the tiny bathroom to change. When you came back down to the lobby, your sister and Landon, her fiance, were already waiting.

"There you are! Are we going to stick together today?" Jenny called when she spotted you step out of the elevator.

Enzo, reaching down to wrap his hand around yours as if he had done it a thousand times before, grinned at the couple before him. "Depends, what were you guys thinking of doing first?"

Jenny seemed excited as she answered enthusiastically, "We were definitely thinking Thunder Pass." She turned to look at Landon with an eager look, obviously in a way better mood than she had been on mother's day. But then again, she was usually more cheery when Landon was around.

"Alright then, let's go? I'll just text mom to let her know where we're going," you said, pulling out your phone to type out the quick text, not bothering to look where you were going as Enzo pulled you along.

The Thunder Pass, the tallest rollercoaster in the park, had been your favourite ride ever since you were tall enough to ride it. Back then, you used to tease Enzo endlessly because he had still been two inches shorter than you and couldn't ride it with you.

Something you regretted now as you hadn't grown since then and the boy in question was now towering over you and using his chance to get back at you.

"Are you sure you're tall enough to ride?" he asked in a fake serious tone, nudging your side and causing your sister - who wasn't even that much taller than you - to happily join in with the teasing.

"Yeah, maybe we should ask for a booster seat? Just to be safe?" she laughed, her head resting against Landon's arm as you waited in line.

When it was finally your turn to ride, you climbed aboard the uncomfortable seat and settled down, putting the seat belt on and pulling down the safety bars, your legs dangling above the ground. Maybe you should have tied your shoes a little tighter before getting on?

On the slow ride up, you pulled your gaze from the back of Jenny's head, the two of them sitting in the row in front of you, and looked around the park. You felt another nudge on your arm as you scoped out what rides you wanted to go on after this, turning to find Enzo already looking at you with a lopsided grin.

"You know what we have to do, right?" he asked excitedly.

"What?" you questioned, legs swinging back and forth, enjoying the cool breeze against your skin.

"Rollercoaster Confessions!" he told you as if it was obvious.

Shaking your head, you let out a groan. "We haven't done those in years."

The rollercoaster confessions were something you had come up with as kids, waiting until you were just about to drop to spill a secret to each other. There had only been two rules, whatever secret was told, the other was not allowed to judge and you didn't talk about it after. It was purely to get something off your chest and then move on.

"Exactly. No better time to start again than now," he kept nudging your arm as he talked.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Fine, let's do it. But I don't have a good one."

"Yay!" his eyes gleamed and you saw a small sparkle of mischief in them before turning back to look at the scenery. For a moment, you had to remind yourself who you were talking to. This was Enzo, he wasn't your friend anymore. Why was it starting to feel like the two of you were back to being fourteen, back when he hadn't been rude and snarky and before he had stopped giving a shit about you.

For the rest of the way to the top, you were scrambling for something to confess. Sure, multiple things you had been keeping to yourself came to mind, but none that you were comfortable sharing with him. So, you settled on something silly, expecting him to do the same.

"I think my creative writing professor is hot as fuck," you blurted just as the cart began to drop, at the same time that Enzo shouted, "I want to drop out of college."

Your head snapped around to look at him, expecting him to be laughing about the lie but he looked completely serious, eyes fixed straight in front of him before letting out a scream as he threw up his hands, the cart rolling down the tracks at full speed.

ੈ♡˳

Later that same day, you had offered to take Caleb off your brother's hands for a while so he and Erica could go on some of the bigger rides as well. To your surprise, Enzo had decided to tag along with you and your nephew instead of joining the other's, but you remembered that he was supposed to be acting as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Caleb had begged go go on one of the water rides and now the three of you were walking through the exit and into the attached gift shop, all of you soaked to the bone. The screen with the pictures caught your eye and you froze in your tracks, causing the taller boy to run into your back.

He let out a groan when he noticed what you were looking at. "We're not getting that one."

The photo showed you hugging Caleb close to your chest, both of you with a huge smile on your face. Meanwhile Enzo was sitting behind you, his long legs bracketing you between them, with his eyes half closed and lips pulled into a grimace.

"Oh, I'm definitely getting that one," you pushed Caleb towards your fake boyfriend gently, pulling out your wallet as you got in line at the register.

"I got water in my eye!" Enzo complained but took the small boy's hand to lead him outside to wait for you.

As you paid for the picture, a little figurine on the counter caught your eye and before you could stop yourself, you pushed it towards the worker. You were unsure why you had instinctively bought the thing, but the little firefly had immediately brought back a memory you had pushed to the far back of your mind.

Pictures of Enzo and you hiding in the bushes in his backyard as you watched the glowing bugs dance around the dark night flashed through your head.

Pushing the souvenirs into your backpack, you decided to figure out what you wanted to do with it later, rushing to catch up with the other's to go to the next ride.

ੈ♡˳

It was a bright and sunny the next day at the park, as you trailed behind your family. It was taking all of your willpower not to ditch the others and go back to your room. The night had been tense and you hadn't gotten a lot of sleep. Even though Enzo had behaved himself, not even a teasing comment having been thrown your way, his presence was keeping you on edge. You had been almost bursting with curiosity, wanting to ask him about what he had told you on the rollercoaster, but remembering the rules, you kept your mouth shut.

As you trailed behind your family, the tension between you and Enzo was still present as ever. The constant silence between you two was suffocating, and you couldn't help but feel the need to break it.

You found your chance when you caught him mustering one of the many game stalls along the walkway. "Don't waste your money, you know how shit you are at those."

Enzo's glare directed toward you made you wince internally. Maybe he hadn't slept much that night either, seeing how touchy he was being. As Enzo's glare bores into you, you decide to push his buttons a little further, hoping to get back to the usual lighthearted bickering you had become used to these past few weeks.

"Come on, I've seen you try those games before. Remember the time you couldn't even knock down a single bottle with the ball? It was pathetic." You smirk, hoping to provoke a response.

Enzo's eyes narrow, and he clenches his fists, clearly irritated. "You really want to push this, huh? Maybe we should go and see who embarrasses themselves."

"You quite full of yourself for someone who's terrible at winning those games," you continue, a mischievous tone in your voice. As you turned to inform your family about going to play one of the games, you realized they were nowhere to be seen.

Confused, you glanced around, trying to find them. Your parents had called today a family day and they probably wouldn't be happy to find the two of you missing. But you couldn't lie, exploring the park alone for a couple hours, without the nosy stares from your mom and Jenny, sounded much more fun.

Turning to face Enzo, about to ask which game he wanted to start with, your lips spread into a smile when you noticed the ride standing behind the stalls. "How about we ditch the games and do that instead?"

Enzo's glare dropped as he followed your gaze up, taking in the huge slingshot ride. You let out a laugh when his face paled, pushing your hands into his back to steer him in the direction of the entrance. "Come on, you were just talking a big game. If you ride this with me I'll let you win at ring toss after."

He glared at you again but didn't say anything as the pair of you made your way over. He was uncharacteristically quiet as you waited in line, you watching excitedly as other people swung back and forth in the air, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

By the time you were finally sitting in the seat you were grinning from ear to ear, about to throw another quip at the boy next to you, only to find him with his eyes clenched shut, breathing fast and heavily as the ball attached to the bungee ropes was slowly ascending.

"Woah, easy there," you teased, nudging him. His grip around the safety bars tightened even more, knuckles white from how hard he was clutching them. His jaw was locked tight and his breathing was becoming more and more ragged. When the ride finally docked, Enzo's jumped, his eyes still closed.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay this is totally safe," you told him, catching onto how scared he actually was. "If I had known you were this terrified I wouldn't have made you come on here. Why didn't you say anything? You are fine on rollercoasters, I thought this would be fun too."

"I don't have to explain myself," he gritted out through his clenched teeth.

"Okay, then what can I do to help? It's a little late to get off the ride."

The boy just shook his head, refusing to look at you. Trying to come up with something to distract him, you reached over to squeeze his arm, surprised when one of his hands loosened on the bar just to shoot out and grab tightly onto yours.

"Enzo, it's okay, nothing is going to happen. Do you want to do a rollercoaster confession again?" you offered but his breathing kept speeding up. Another idea sprung into your mind as the ball stopped at the highest point, and you tried to keep yourself from cringing at yourself as you started singing.

“Like a small boat, on the ocean. Sending big waves, into motion,” you sung, checking for his reaction while you hoped you were getting the lyrics right. “Like how a single word can make a heart open. I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion.”

“What are you doing?” the boy muttered beside you and you couldn’t help the smile, seeing that one of his eyes was slightly open now, peeking in your direction.

“Just go with it,” you grinned wider, the embarrassment of randomly singing leaving you at the first sign that your idea was working. “And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain, I will scream them loud tonight, can you hear my voice this time?” you kept going, your voice getting a little louder with each word as you squeezed his hand. "Come on don't leave me hanging."

Still looking ready to faint at any second, he narrowed his now fully opened eyes at you, but joined you in singing the chorus of the song.

"This is my fight song, take back my life song, prove I'm alright song," both of you shouted out the lyrics, Enzo letting out a yelp mid-word when the ball dropped and you zoomed towards the ground. But he kept going, basically screaming the lyrics at this point as the ball raced through the air, gaining in height again on the other side, before changing directions and being pulled backwards.

"My power's turned on, starting right now I'll be strong. I'll play my fight song, and I don't really care if nobody else believes. Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me!"

By the time you finished the song he was even laughing as you were lowered back to the ground. He was still holding onto your hand as you got out of your seats, following behind you on shaky legs and trying to ignore the odd looks the people in line were sending you, apparently having heard the end of your performance.

Among the crowd gathered around the ride, you caught your parents beaming faces as they waved you over, having noticed the two of you had gone missing. You changed directions to rush over to them, but Enzo pulling on your hand make you stop and turn around.

"Hey, uhm," he was once again, not meeting your eyes, pushing a hand through his already windswept hair. "Just...thank you."

For some reason, the tone of his voice had your breath catching for a moment but you pulled yourself together quickly. "Don't even mention it."

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[gilmore-angel]

unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader

summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)

warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!

authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!

navigation 𔓕 follow and turn on notifications for @baysfics to know when I post my writings

married life isn't so bad after all.

of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.

your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.

though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.

it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.

your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.

you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.

you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.

there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.

once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.

"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.

"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.

now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.

"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"

his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."

he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.

aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.

"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.

aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.

you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"

you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."

he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.

"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"

he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"

he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.

"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."

you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."

he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.

he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.

"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.

you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."

with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.

a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."

he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.

"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.

he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.

"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.

"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.

suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.

"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.

"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.

before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.

he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."

he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.

"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."

[hanchette]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 : ( wind breaker characters )

a/n : SUMMER VACAY IS SO BORING HNGGG, part 2/3 of long fluff scenarios

consist of : fluff, gender neutral reader, established relationship — relationship thingies

𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐎 𝐍𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐈, once he had you in an ambush, he was too giddy to 'kidnap' you, hence nirei had set up a wonderful idea of a café date. "ah, before anything i bought you some food from saboten! ta-dah! i saw that they have some milk bread and uhmm melon bread—also cream puffs! unless you want something savory? hold on i have some-"

you watch him, having fun with how his expression changes from one thing to another.

"oh! here, do you like these?" nirei showed you a few packet before shoving it in the paper bag and pushing the bag over the table onto you. "you can have them!"

"aki-chan, you bought a lot." you took the bag gently from its place on the table, peeking at the many contents, "this will last me for a few days."

"ah! sorry, was it too much?" he clapped his hand in a praying motion, hissing in grimace at himself for maybe being too overboard with his bread giving.

"it's fine, saboten has tasty breads anyway." you nod, taking one out of the bag and giving it to him, "there's many for us to share too."

"ah" he seems at awe as he pictures you, his blush evident, nirei scratches at his nape as he whistled to himself, "ri-right.. you're right, y/n-chan!"

despite being in a relationship with nirei, he has his moments where he does get shy on you, you noticed that it's specifically when you're acting 'like an angel!' he would say.

"i really like this date idea, aki-chan." you compliment, taking in the scene before you, nirei had taken you into a café where he managed to secure a seat on the second floor where the veranda is. the view of the townspeople below is a nice scene before the eyes.

"really? hehe.." he turns pinkish red at that.

this was a hidden gem since it is located at the second floor, not much people inside so the two of you are given privacy, "how did you find this, aki-chan?"

nirei beams, always eager to tell you informations whether it is regarding people or places that he knows and has interest about, "that's because you mentioned a few days ago that you wanted to try something new! so i gathered and asked a few people around if they know a good place and i was pointed this way."

he proudly beams, teeth out as he looks at you in a bright expression, one out of adoration. to think he even remembered your words and took it to heart.

"thank you, aki-chan."

he stiffens, looking at you in owlish wonder before nodding, "to be honest, i still don't know much about you, y/n-san." granted, the relationship between the two of you is still fresh like dews on a meadow after the rain.

"i- the reason i brought you here was for my selfish desire to get to know you more." nirei admits with a genuine passion in his eyes, reaching for your hand, "please, tell me more about you."

and there is nothing in his hand, not the iconic notebook you've seen him, nor the pen, just him, looking at you with hope and affection in his gaze.

he didn't need his stuff. everything about you, nirei would take everything to his heart.

𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔, "here ya go, y/n-chan." kiryu hands you a console with a smile, his soft melodic voice always calms you down.

"thank you, just so you know, i'm not good at this game." you tell him, settling down on the couch as he hums.

"that is fine, this is just for fun."

kiryu smiles at you, his hand, bigger than yours and rougher—with how much he has fought in the past and still does, "here, this is for your character to maneuver and this is how it attacks," and although he speaks, you are distracted with the close proximity that you both share.

"y/n-chan?"

you felt fingers shift your head, delicate touch of his fingers on your cheek, "you good?" he's ever so patient with you.

"mhmm.. i am."

"heh, but you didn't listen to my explanation, didn't you?" he chuckles, pinching your nose lightly as a tease, "i will tell you again, so focus on me, y/n-chan."

true to his words, kiryu didn't performed in a competitive nature as he usually does when it comes to games, deciding to merely idle and have fun with you—although there are many times in occasion that he goes slip into a range of competitiveness before realizing what he's doing and simply relaxes.

although you are briefly aware of the fact that there were multiple times that he has allowed you to win on purpose.

alright, this is enough, he should take you seriously now! "take me seriously for our next game!"

kiryu blinks, surprise at the sudden demand before he eases into your side, "really? then, loser grants one wish of the winner." he proposes. though kiryu doesn't sport a smug look, he is pretty confident with his skills.

you're almost reluctant to disagree until you had an idea, "alright!"

"don't regret it then, y/n-chan." he chuckles.

and the next game started, kiryu, no longer going easy and in ease now started to maneuver his character in impressive ease. though his expression is stiff, his finger movements are flowing and smooth.

just as he is near the finish line with your character next in line, you smoothly shifted to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

kiryu's finger movements halted and you took the opportunity to place first in order to win.

"i won! i hit the mark!" you cheered, brightly laughing at your win before you're pulled into kiryu's arms.

"you did not hit the mark." kiryu echoes, his hold on you a bit firm but loose enough to be able to escape. "i did!"

maybe he didn't like the idea of losing with a bet in place, moreover, you did kiss him to surpass him in the game. was there something he really want from you?

"no," his voice is breathy, "you didn't." his face neared yours, lightly pressing his lips against yours.

maybe he is right, you didn't hit the mark, but hey, atleast you still won the game.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎, it took a lot of convincing and trials until sugishita finally relents on letting you touch his hair.

it has been months into your relationship that he finally trusted you to.

now you're sitting behind him while he's slump on the couch, leaning against your thighs while he's situated on the floor, a sour look on his face as he repeatedly switch the channels of the television.

"are you comfy, kyo?" you asked, although you know the answer, sugishita won't do something he doesn't like after all.

although you happen to be an exception, with how he hates tying his hair up, always allowing it to flow freely. sugishita merely nod once to tell you he is indeed comfortable in his position.

"you know kyo, many girls would be jealous of how long your hair is, and the fact that it is in good condition." you hummed, picking through the strands to pull at the slight tangles but it is overall a good look with how once a month, sugishita do get the treated.

"hn." he grunted, "are you?" somehow, there's a smug tone in his question.

too bad you can't see his expression.

"lowkey, yes." you sheepishly admit, reaching to bunch all his hair back as you pull on them slightly, fingers starting to braid them.

sugishita threw his head back unto where your thighs are, "don't." he says, brown eyes staring at you.

there is an awful pause in between, at this point in your relationship, you've become accustomed to listening to him well to know whenever he wants to add in a 'but' in his words.

"your hair is fine."

with his eyes closed, he sighed through his nose, almost huffing as you craned your neck, leaning down to catch his expression only for sugishita to beat you to it.

"pretty." and it's almost so soft that you barely caught it, fortunately, with the close proximity, you have it to thank for.

"really now?"

he didn't want you to doubt his words, sugishita nod his head once in a serious manner.

his actions incite a small giggle to escape your lips, "maybe i should braid your hair always if you're this sweet to me." you tease your poor boyfriend who could only blink at you in reply. his mouth parting and his expression, serious.

"i am sweet."

well, he's not entirely wrong.

𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐀 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐀, "are you sure i am not heavy?" you question, sitting on his back as he does his push up—his back straight and core tight. this has been a usual with the two of you ever since you've entered a relationship with taiga tsugeura himself, a passionate man through and through. while you don't join him in his exercises, you do help him with it, like for instance, you sitting on his back now.

"nope! not one bit!"

"then isn't my help useless??" he asked you to sit on his back so he could use your weight after all, if you weren't heavy enough, then isn't it all for nothing?

taiga paused in his push up, "ah, maybe i could do plank instead then?" his arms tremble a bit as they adjusted into proper position, now finally feeling the strain but you are sure that this still is nothing compared to the amount of exercises he is used with in doing.

you watch him idly, "your back is.. sweaty." you mentioned, feeling how his sweat stick on the skin of the back of your thigh for a bit, even with him wearing a sleeveless tank top—frankly, you've remembered telling him once that it is called a wife beater shirt but taiga didn't liked it one bit.

"sorry about that babe! you can get off if you want to!" there's sheepishness in his tone as he responds to you.

you shook your head, only to realize that he can't see you before replying, "i can help you in another way?"

"oohhhh! a new exercise way?!" he seems pumped up, enthusiastic for your help no matter how small it may be.

"somewhat." you agreed, setting you feet down the wooden boards before walking in front of your boyfriend, taking a face towel that's folded neatly on the side of his bed.

it was a trend that you once saw, especially used in fanfics, hell, maybe you can do it as well, taiga looks up at you, curious but still with that awfully charming smile that you find so precious.

you lay down, slipping underneath his face so you're looking up at him.

"hi."

"hello," taiga smiled, "you're awfully close."

"i am."

you breathe in before softly explaining how it works. "so here's the deal, you can resume your push up and i can wipe them..?"

"but you're close?"

"then there's a kiss as a bonus?" you offer, a sweet smile on your lips, taiga's lips parted, looking at you in a moment of shock.

"woahhh..." was the only word he can say.

"it- it is fine if you don't want to though-" before you can finish it, you feel a small touch on your lips, your view momentarily obscured by the sight of his adams apple bobbing.

"that works for me, yoooshhh!"

safe to say, he has a newfound strength to continue even more just to steal your lips.

[pseudowho]

Infiltration, Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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You and Kento looked the picture of marital bliss as you were led down the hallways of the temple for your joint interview. Your hand felt so small and soft in his; he opened every door for you, and you rewarded him with twinkling smiles that, although part of the act, had him feeling weak at the knees.

Kento's pat to your bottom as you stepped into the waiting room had you giggling, and your guide, an elderly woman in a kimono, rolled her eyes fondly at the young couple before her; there will be children running around here in no time, she thought, none-the-wiser to your schemes.

With the door closing behind her, you turned to Kento and slapped at his chest as he chuckled, pretending to defend himself-- "Was the bum pat too much?" he mused as you scoffed at him. Having far too much fun together, you giggled like teenagers before you met his eyes, fully serious now.

"Remember- my technique only works on Curses, not humans," you reminded Kento in low tones. You knew you'd never be accepted into the cult if they believed you to be capable of influencing the thoughts or choices of their members. Kento nodded, stern now as he gripped your shoulders and gazed down at you.

"And I'm in charge here," he whispered, hushed and insistent, "you're just my quiet wife, not a threat at all." This wasn't what you had agreed, and you opened your mouth to argue, but Kento silenced you with a look. "Please. You're safer if you're overlooked. And we both know you're the brains of this," he insisted as you scoffed again, "so let's make it easier for you to harvest information. Let's have you totally ignored." Narrowing your eyes at him, you knew he was right, though your stomach churned at Kento wanting to make himself the target if your cover was blown.

Kento adjusted his tie, running his fingers through his hair, making your breath hitch in your chest. He continued, convicted but disapproving, "This cult is likely a sexist, misogynist cesspit like the rest of them, anyway. Bold women frighten them," he spat.

"Kento, I don't think I've ever been meek my whole life," you smiled wryly at him. Kento's lips quirked, sardonic and approving.

"I know. It's one of my favourite things about you."

When the door opened to two older men, both roughly in their sixties, your blush and Kento's closeness brought to mind a young couple caught necking in a cupboard, and the two men shared a knowing glance. Kento turned his back to you, bowing deeply to the men, and you offered hushed bows and greetings behind him, ostensibly already the meek Mrs.Tsuda.

"Please come through, Mr and Mrs Tsuda," the more cheerful of the two men offered. He was tall, soft and approachable, with white hair and an old zippered cardigan. The second merely glowered at Kento and you, his dark hair peppered with grey, looking stiff and pressed in a crisp black suit. Kento took your hand firmly and you squeaked as he pulled you through short corridors to the interview room, which was...an old dojo, you noted, opening onto a lush and trimmed traditional Japanese garden.

Kneeling on ceremony, you remained silent as you sat to the side of and just behind Kento. His physique now radiated no warmth towards you, and you sat to attention, appearing brittle and ready to ask "how high?" if Kento commanded you to "jump". You felt a pang of success in your gut when the two men appraised you and Kento, approving of your apparent dominant-subservient marital dynamics.

"Well now...might I start by saying what a delight it is that such an eager young couple has shown interest in becoming a part of our community," began the kindly man, "and how eager we are to find out more about you both."

Pausing for a moment for tea to be brought in, the man continued, "Allow me to introduce us both. My name is Ono Shinzu, and my younger brother here is Ono Tatsu. But in the community, we are generally known as The Fathers, if you please." Father Tatsu's eyes remained narrowed, his mouth set in a grim line, paying you no significant attention, but boring holes into Kento's face. Kento was totally unfazed, not an easy man to intimidate.

"We have of course read your files and applications with great interest, and, I'm sure you don't mind, have run some thorough preliminary background checks on you both," Father Shinzu leaned across to you and Kento conspiratorially, "which you'll be pleased to know found nothing...undesirable." Kento hummed his approval, leaning across to Father Shinzu.

"Absolutely, Father. All of my skeletons are very well buried," Kento whispered to him, equally conspiratorial. Father Shinzu, tickled, clapped his dry old hands together and laughed.

"Splendid my boy, we're delighted, we really are. Now as I'm sure you're both aware, our Community is most interested in expanding the Jujutsu Sorcerer population far beyond its current level. The current Sorcerer influence on the...direction our great country is taking is disappointingly minimal. The average man and woman in the population needs far more...guidance, shall we say, on the path ahead. We should be delighted to see our Community's leaders and children across positions of public influence all across this fine country. Don't you agree?" You and Kento both agreed enthusiastically, to the approval of the Fathers.

Soon, enough small-talk had passed that the Fathers seemed wholly convinced of your dedication to their cause. Father Tatsu spoke up abruptly, cutting across his brother.

"To the matter of your cursed-techniques. We shall start with the lady, I suppose," Father Tatsu toned, a light sneer evident in his voice. You squeaked, looking to Kento for permission to speak. He nodded once, briskly, nervous for you.

"Oh, well I erm..." you stuttered, the perfect mild wife, "I'm not really much of a fighter I suppose. I have a way of influencing the decisions a Curse will make." You laughed, reedy and tinkling, "You know, they always scared me so much, really I just convince them to leave me well alone!" You laughed again, demure as the Fathers offered you polite smiles, nodding approvingly.

Nailed it, thought Kento, wishing he could show you how impressed he was. The attention shifted quickly to him.

"But you, Mr.Tsuda. By your own words, you're something of a...powerhouse, if you will," Father Tatsu pressed, eyes narrowed again. Kento nodded, puffing his chest out, seeming so arrogant, so unlike himself.

"Grade 1 Sorcerer level, if we're going by those demeaning standards," Kento huffed.  Kento explained his ratio technique to the Fathers, sparing no detail. Father Tatsu's eyes glimmered, greedy and fascinated.

Father Shinzu spoke up, "Whilst I would be delighted to observe this technique today, yours does sound rather destructive, Mr.Tsuda, and I'm quite fond of my little dojo. But, we have had several lovely young couples join our cause this month, so we've organised a little...dinner and spar for tomorrow night for you to all showcase your talents. I assume yourself and your wife would like to attend?"

The penny dropped. We're in, you and Kento both thought, the room suddenly all bows, paperwork and handshakes.

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"That was vile," you sulked, rummaging through your suitcase as Kento chuckled at you, looking through the cupboards in your new home. Your little marital house within the complex was surprisingly spacious, wood-pannelled and screen-doored, tidy and unassuming. It did, however, have its own onsen, enclosed behind high walls outside your living area. You pictured Kento, bare-chested and wet, toned arms and long-fingered hands beckoning you to the water like a Siren.

Blushing furiously, you slapped your own cheeks. Kento peered round a corner at the sound, frowning at you. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yes, absolutely!" you fumbled, "it's just, they've uh...they've been through my suitcase, I think." Kento gulped down the lump in his throat as he saw you shift cute lacey bras and underwear around your suitcase, trying to reorganise it. He coughed, grumbling to himself.

"Yes, well...no illicit materials allowed here I suppose," as he backed around the corner again, once again pondering his chances of getting through this mission alive with his dignity intact.

Foiling his plan to hide his flushed cheeks, you ducked round the corner to him, eyebrows wiggling wickedly, "Does that mean we'll have to make our own fun?"

Kento nearly choked on his own spit, but Uno reverse'd you instead, "Well, help me put the futon together, my love, and we shall see." The smile slipped off your face, to Kento's amusement.

"Futon? Singular?"

Kento began constructing your bed, back to you and trying his best to just keep it together, man. He was too busy lost in the thought of you, stretched out like a goddess, in some of those delicious underwear sets, bare legs tangling with his in the warmth of the futon as he rolled you onto him, clamping your legs around his hips as he--

And you stood behind Kento, fluffing pillows, as you imagined Kento, hot and desperate and moaning your name, as your mouth worked around him under the covers, wondering how he tastes, his hips bucking against your mouth as he--

The futon was constructed, Kento paying vast attention to detail in his internal turmoil, pillows fluffed to full attention by you as you tortured yourself with impure thoughts.

"Obviously, I'll sleep on the sofa," Kento offered, always a gentleman.

"No way. You need the sleep more than me,  especially when this comes down to a fight." Kento scoffed something about years of poor sleep and managing just fine, thank you, and the two of you found yourself bickering lightly, no venom, but as if you really were--

"Some old married couple!" you snapped at Kento, and he gazed at you fondly, his fingers holding his own chin and barely concealing his soft smile. You flushed, hitting him with a pillow, "So you can stop looking at me like that!"

Kento sighed, heading to the bathroom and coming back with his toothbrush, "Enough," he said with such finality that you couldn't offer any further complaint, "we're professionals, we are friends, and we happen to need to sleep beside each other for a little while. I'm certain we're both adult enough that this need not be a problem."

You felt mortified, certain that Kento's ability to remain cool about this was evidence of his unreciprocated feelings, and you almost felt tears of embarrassment prickle in your eyes before containing yourself again.

Wordlessly, you both got ready for bed; you slipped under the covers quickly, Kento only seeing the briefest glimpse of satin shorts against your plush thighs. Kento pulled at the neckline of the t-shirt he never normally wore for bed, usually bare-chested, and wondering if his pyjamas did anything to hide his partial erection. Both rolling away, your backs to each other, the room dark and still aside from the faint buzz of insects in your garden, you and Kento were woefully unaware that your torture was completely mutual.

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Kento woke in the night, taking a moment to remember where he was and why he was there. Eyes adjusting to the night, he heard soft whimpers and frantic shuffling against the sheets in the dark. Reaching out, Kento softly spoke your name. His fingertips reached your face and flinched back- wet, he thought, cupping your cheek with his hand, she's crying.

You were, like every night, lost in the nightmare of your last mission, doomed to watch your friend die again and again. Kento gulped, desperate to help you, but afraid to make you uncomfortable. As you called out for help in your sleep, Kento couldn't help himself as he slid his arms around you, sitting up and sliding you gently against his chest.

You jolted awake, arms held close to you by his, so warm and secure, that you cried harder. Kento said nothing, rocking and shushing you like a child as you gripped his t-shirt and sobbed your heart out. You poured out your fears to Kento, weakened and vulnerable.

"We've made a mistake coming here," you sobbed, clinging onto him now, "I can't lose you like I lost her, it would kill me, and you're so bloody chivalrous, I know you'll go out of your way to keep me safe."

"As I damn well should," Kento urged, voice tight and determined. You shook your head against his chest, your ear tickling as he grumbled at you. He held both sides of your face now, pulling it gently into a strip of moonlight glowing in through the windows. He stared into you, your eyes sparkling with tears, nose pink and lips puffy, and gulped as he stopped himself pulling you in for a kiss there and then. With your tear-stained cheeks squashed between Kento's broad palms, you felt like a child, and avoided his gaze.

Hands occupied, Kento gently bopped his nose against yours, forcing you to look at him.

"You're going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. We'll be out of here and going for our usual coffee date in no time. Trust me."

You nodded, sniffles abating as he dropped a kiss to your forehead. Both shuffling back to your sides of the bed, you lay quietly in the dark, blushing furiously.

Kento tortured himself internally, wondering if you had noticed when he accidentally referred to your trips out for coffee while working as dates.

You had.

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Waking up the next morning, sunlight streaming through the screen doors, you sighed and moved to roll over. You found yourself totally restrained by thick forearms, and your internal temperature instantly shot up by what felt like a hundred degrees.

Kento slept, soft hair mussed by sleep and breath tickling your ears. And, it seemed, he was a cuddler.

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Chapter 3: Deadly Games, link HERE!

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the vanishing of will byers

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you.  “So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?” Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead.

summary: jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

rating: general, although there's plenty of cursing and slight innuendos, so fair warning.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 7k

before you swing in: hello ! this is the first chapter of my come home series, where i plan on rewriting the entirety of stranger things because i really love a good rewrite fic and this is me just indulging in my ideal fic fantasies tbh. before we start: this is a steve x reader fic, however there will be some slight feelings between the reader and jonathan, but it doesn't at all get in the way of steve and honestly just adds to the angst because i love a good tragedy. also, reader is dustin's older sister, but i tried to write her as neutral as possible in terms of physical features, so let's all just play along. that is all ! i'm very excited for this series and i hope y'all enjoy her as much as i do :)

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November 6th, 1983

Your shift at Bookstrordinary ends at 8:30 tonight, so as soon as you’ve organized all the books within the store and cashed out the last customer, you say goodnight to your boss, Mrs. Waters, and clock out. Today had been a longer shift, and it didn’t help that you had to deal with a particularly eager bookclub mother who insisted that you had the latest copy of some obscure novel that she needed for her club. After several attempts to inform her that no, you really didn’t have some novel about a cowboy falling in love with a rodeo girl from Michigan, nor would you ever want to read that, the mother angrily walked away. 

You’re happy to finally be free from work though, excited to see Jonathan to tell him about the book club mom because you know he gets a kick out of those suburban middle class mothers that terrorize Hawkins. He works across from you, at The Hawk theater, and it’s one of your favorite things about the bookstore. Besides getting to be surrounded by books all day and reading Spider-Man, you get to be across the street from your best friend and share frequent breaks together. 

A bell signifies your arrival at the theater, alerting Jonathan to look up from the concession stand and smile at you. He looks tired, which you can understand. It’s been a particularly long school year so far with Jonathan having to work more shifts than usual to support his family. 

“Welcome to The Hawk, can I interest you in our specialty popcorn and candy corn mixture?”

You make a face, “No, thanks. Candy corn freaks me out.” 

Jonathan laughs, knowing you’d say that. It’s been a running joke between the two of you for as long as you can remember. You’re not picky with most foods, but candy corn? The bane of your existence. “Tough crowd, then.” 

You laugh as well, now standing in front of the counter, and you learn against it so that you’re in Jonathan’s space. After being friends for so long, personal space doesn’t exist between the two of you. You’re the only person that Jonathan lets get this close to him on a regular basis, which you’re secretly proud of. 

“So, you almost done so we can pick up our idiotic brothers?” Tonight, as usual, Will and Dustin are at Mike’s house playing DnD. They’d biked over as soon as school let out, while Jonathan drove you to work, so he was your ride back for the night. 

He shakes his head at you, wincing, “I picked up an extra shift tonight. Stacy called out sick, and it’s good money…”

You nod in understanding. He doesn’t have to explain himself to you, which he’s always relieved by. 

“It’s okay. Is my bike still in your trunk?” 

“Yeah, I can get it out for you since I’m kind of ditching you tonight.” 

You wave him off, already reaching across the counter to grab his keys from his coat pocket. “No need, I’ll get it out myself so you don’t get in trouble with your boss.” Jonathan’s boss is an older guy, extra scary. “I’m assuming that I’m taking Will home tonight?” 

“It’ll be late by the time you get the boys, and you’ll have Dustin. We only live a couple blocks apart, you can just bike with Will until you get to your street.”

“Are you sure? I know he’s scared of the dark.” 

“It’s fine, Y/N. You’re already doing enough being there for most of the ride; I’m sure Will can survive the last five minutes alone.” 

You give Jonathan an unsure look, but you don’t argue with him. He’s his brother, he knows Will’s capabilities, and it’s an unspoken fact that you baby Will a bit too much. He’s just so much tinier than the other boys, softer in a way that you want to protect. He’s special. 

Jonathan sneaks you a large peach lemonade and hot dog from the concession stand when you return with his keys. You’ve parked your bike up front, and you accept the food gratefully. You hadn’t had time to eat your usual dinner during your break due to the bookclub mother fiasco, so you inhale the food quickly and give his hair a ruffle. 

“You’re a lifesaver, bee.” 

Jonathan lightly hits your hand away from his hair. “Consider it your payment for dealing with Will and Dustin on your own tonight, bug.” 

Bee and bug were the names the two of you had given each other years ago. Jonathan had started it with bug, stemming from the fact that you love Spider-Man so much, and you had struggled to come up with your own nickname for him. Then it came to you: bee, or B, for Byers. It was perfect, and you’re still incredibly proud of yourself for the creativity, honestly. 

After your quick dinner, you say goodbye to your friend and head off. It’s late now, nearing 9, and you hope that Mrs. Wheeler and your own mom won’t be too upset with you for being late for pick up. You know they prefer to have the boys in bed by a decent hour, but in your defense, Jonathan did skip out on you.

You arrive at the Wheeler’s in a short amount of time and knock on the door. Your cheeks are flushed from the early November cold, and you’re regretting that you only put on a thin sweater and jeans this morning.

Mike answers the door, giving you a dirty look. “Did you have to come early?”

“I’m actually later than usual,” you sidestep him, making your way into his house; you’ve become used to Mike’s attitude. “I take it the campaign is still ongoing?”

“See, mom? Even Y/N understands how long a good campaign can go on for!” Mike waves his arms at you, as if to signify to his mother the importance of your understanding. 

Mrs. Wheeler ignores her son to greet you kindly, albeit a bit exasperated. “Hello, Y/N, please come in.” Then she turns to Mike, giving him a stern look. “Mike, why don’t you tell Y/N how you boys have been playing for ten hours? I’m sure she’ll be understanding then.” 

“You guys have been playing for ten hours?”

Mike looks down in embarrassment for a second before turning to his father for help. You laugh a bit at his enthusiasm and see a faint smile on his mom’s face as well. Quietly you excuse yourself to go downstairs to find the other boys, and Mrs. Wheeler wishes you luck. 

Everyone always acts like the boys are some giant pain; truthfully, you enjoy them. Sure, they can be a handful, but they’re just kids; it’s hard for you to ever stay mad at them. Plus they like you, so it makes dealing with them easier. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Will are running around the basement when you get down there, frantically searching for something. You hear Lucas inform Will that if Mike doesn’t see something, then it doesn’t count. The urgence in his voice amuses you; you’ll never fully wrap your head around why they take DnD so seriously, but you love that they can enjoy it with each other. 

Dustin is the first to see you. “Y/N!”

The other boy’s heads turn to you and they greet you with enthusiasm as well. Will rushes towards you for a hug, which you gladly accept. When you break apart, Lucas gives you a high five and asks about a comic you’ve put on hold for him at the store. 

“Any luck?”

“Sorry, Sinclair. It’s still sold out, but the second it’s restocked I’ll smuggle one for you.” 

“Sick!” 

Dustin walks over, now in his coat and holding a pizza box. “Want a slice?” 

You decline, informing him that Jonathan snuck some food for you. At the mention of his brother’s name, Will asks where he is. You tell him that Jonathan had to cover a shift and that you’ll be taking him most of the way home tonight. 

As you all make your way upstairs, you notice that Dustin continues up to the second floor. Lucas notices too, and the two of you share a knowing look. 

“Still have a crush on Nancy?” You ask, already knowing the answer. 

“Yup.” Lucas responds, smiling in disappointment. 

You wait for your brother outside, helping Will with his coat and listen to Mike’s rambling about the campaign. Lucas is already on his bike, ready to go. 

“There’s something wrong with your sister.” Dustin declares when he finally returns.

Mike looks at you, then at your brother, confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“She’s got a stick up her butt.” 

“Dustin!” You berate. Nancy isn’t your favorite person, but she’s always been nice to you the few times you’ve interacted. You guys used to be closer when you were younger, but high school has a way of distancing people.

“Yeah,” Lucas now speaks up. “It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” How the hell does Lucas even know about that? You didn’t even know about that until just now. 

“Lucas! Language!” 

“Yeah, she’s been turning into a real jerk.”

“Dustin, I swear to God-” 

The boys ignore you, which you’re honestly not surprised by. While they may like you, that doesn't mean that they listen to you. On a good day they maybe listen to you 25% of the time, but tonight was clearly not a good night. 

Mike finally cuts in, “She’s always been a real jerk.”

“Hey, she’s your sister. Give her some credit-”

Dustin is now the one who cuts you off. “Nuh-uh, only you get the sister leniency, Y/N. Nancy used to be cool, now she isn’t.” 

“Remember that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign?” Lucas asks, almost reminiscent. 

You shudder at the way he says it, and you shudder more when you see the dreamy look in your brother’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember…” 

“Gross,” you huff at your brother, now hopping on your own bike. 

Lucas and Dustin begin to pedal away, and you call after them to wait up. Will is still with Mike, and you promised Jonathan you’d get him home. You give the boys a bit of space, waiting a few paces ahead. Will has always been shy around Mike, something that you’ve tried not looking into too much, but to be safe you give them some privacy. 

Faintly, you hear Will say, “The Demogorgon, it got me.” 

Lights flicker a bit, but you’re too focused on the slight unease you feel by Will’s words. Before you can think too much about them, he joins you. “Race you up to Lucas and Dustin?”

“You’re on,” you tell him. 

Will beats you to the boys (which you let him do), and you’re out of breath. The four of you bike in silence for a bit until you reach Lucas’s turn into his neighborhood. 

“Good night, ladies.” He says, and you don’t need to be a psychic to know what your brother’s response is going to be.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Bless him.

You and Will giggle together, and Dustin smirks at the two of you, proud. He sits in the praise for a few moments before challenging you and Will to race home with the promise of a comic for whoever wins. 

“I call last year’s Black Cat issue of Spider-man!” You call out, already biking away from the boys. 

“We didn’t say go!”

Dustin and Will call after you as they try to catch up, and within a few seconds the three of you are speeding down the hill towards your home. You laugh gleefully, enjoying the way the wind whips through your hair and the way Dustin, though annoyed by your early start, laughs alongside you with Will. 

Somehow Will is the one who wins the race, which you’re impressed by. He may be small, but he’s surprisingly good at winning when it comes to a competition. Dustin shouts at Will that he’ll kill him, which makes you send a warning look at him. 

“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” Will retaliates, still flying through the street. 

You and Dustin are now stopped at your mailbox and you take a moment to catch your breath before shouting at Will, “Be careful, please! Stay safe!”

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night. Dustin has already gone inside but you wait to follow, only going inside when you can no longer see Will, hopefully home safe and sound. You feel fear creep upon you, but you chalk it up to your usual worry when it comes to the boy. 

He’ll be okay, Jonathan should be home within the hour. 

– 

The next morning you’re frantically biking to school, pissed off at Jonathan. He’s your ride every morning, or everywhere, really, and for the second time in 24 hours he’s bailed on you. Dustin left for school ages ago on his bike, so you’re thankful he doesn’t see you embarrassingly sweaty and gross as you race to school. 

It’s not that you’re pissed that Jonathan bailed again, you’re pissed because he didn’t even have the nerve to call you ahead of time to warn you. Now you have only ten minutes before the first bell rings, and your sweater clings to you uncomfortably as you sweat. 

You make it to school with a few minutes to spare, so you quickly make your way over to your locker to grab the necessary books for the day. You’re still sweaty, and you don’t want to even think about what your hair looks like right now. You look down the hall towards Jonathan’s locker, still not seeing him, and you begin to worry a bit. Maybe he overslept after last night’s shift? 

A body crashes into yours, sending your notebooks spiraling to the ground. Steve Harrington looks at you sheepishly, only saying a small “whoops!” before continuing his fast pace towards the girl’s bathroom. You scoff, now even more annoyed with your entire morning, picking up your stuff as you see Nancy enter the same bathroom a few moments later. 

“In a public school bathroom?” You mutter in disgust, collecting the last of your things and heading to class. 

You decide to give Jonathan until second period, sophomore English which the two of you share, before you freak out. You know you have a problem with over worrying about the people you love, so you try to calm yourself down. While Jonathan has never been the type to cancel without at least calling first, you reason with yourself that everyone has a bad morning. He simply slept in too late. When he wakes up, he’ll come to school and he’ll be sitting in the seat next to you in English. 

Except Jonathan isn’t in the seat next to yours when you enter the classroom an hour later. Now you officially let yourself begin to worry. Something about this doesn’t feel right. 

You’ve never skipped class before, school has always been important to you. You’re the top of your class with hopes of running away from Hawkins with Jonathan to a big city with an even bigger university. However, you don’t even hesitate to flee the classroom and find the nearest phone in the school to call the Byers’ residence. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings, and the words that leave his lips change your life forever. “Will is missing.”

You feel all the air in your lungs be knocked out of you. You can’t breathe and you sway a bit as your knees threaten to give out. This isn’t real, this can’t be happening. 

“What?”

“Will, he-he’s gone, Y/N. We can’t find him and-” 

You don’t hear whatever else Jonathan says. You struggle to get air back in your lungs. Will isn’t missing, you just saw him last night. Mere hours ago Will laughed next to you, face alive with joy, he hugged you and joked along with you. 

“He didn’t come home last night-”

“He didn’t come home?” Jonathan’s words catch your attention and you feel bile rise in your throat. Will didn’t make it home last night. You were the last one to see him, and the realization crushes you; it’s all your fault. 

“Mom and I just searched the woods, and there’s no sign of him and-” Jonathan is rambling now, his own fear and despair clear in his voice. 

“Jonathan,” you force his name out, now needing to be there for your best friend. You can worry for Will in your own time, right now Jonathan needs you. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” 

“Y/N, you don’t-”

You hang up before Jonathan can argue with you and stumble towards the exit. Your limbs feel heavier than normal, and your ears are ringing. Will is missing. He’s so small, he’s scared of the dark… You left him alone in the dark. 

The bike ride to the Byers home is a blur. You don’t remember much, your body going on autopilot the second you hopped on your bike. You’re running on pure fear and adrenaline right now, too worried for your boys to focus on anything else. 

You don’t bother to knock when you arrive, instead you let yourself in. Joyce is on the phone, arguing with some woman named Cynthia. Your eyes find Jonathan’s, who is sitting on the couch hunched over something. You walk over to him and sit down beside him and your stomach lurches when you see the words “have you seen me?” he’s so neatly printed out on a piece of paper.

“Bee…” you exhale, voice cracking a bit. 

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but you know him as well as you know yourself. He doesn’t want comforting words right now. You take his hand into yours and lean your head against his shoulder. Worry has made his muscles tense, but you feel him relax into you a bit as he rests his own head against yours. The two of you sit like that for a moment, taking in the comfort you bring each other. 

“Bitch!” Joyce slams the phone down, causing you and Jonathan to jump apart. 

“Mom,”

“What?” Joyce is a mixture of both rage and anxiety, and you feel awful looking at her. Her son is missing, you can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

“You have to stay calm.” Jonathan tells her, his voice firm but kind. You know it’s taking everything in him to be as stable as he is right now; he’s putting on a front for his worried mother. You squeeze his hand, hoping it conveys the support and love that you need it to.

He squeezes back, and you see Joyce finally recognize that you’re there as well. She sends you a weak wave, which you return, before she goes back to dialing and trying to reach Lonnie. Jonathan gives your hand one last squeeze and lets go, now returning back to the posters. You immediately understand that he’s doing this to distract himself, so you do the same and wordlessly help him.

You begin writing your own “have you seen me?” when Joyce once again slams her phone down. The sound makes you flinch, inadvertently messing up your writing, which you sigh at. Before you can ask Jonathan for another piece of paper, you hear a car pull up. 

Jonathan stands up to investigate, alerting his mom that the cops are here. You follow after them outside, your heart dropping when you see Will’s bike in the Chief’s hand. He ushers everyone inside, informing Joyce that he found the bike lying in the road.

“How far was it from the house?” You ask, your voice frail. 

The Chief looks at you, his nametag informs you that his name is Hopper, and raises his eyebrows. “And can I know who is asking?” 

You clear your throat, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m Y/N Henderson. I’m close with the Byers, I biked with Will home,” your voice catches in your throat, snagging onto the guilt that has been clawing at you ever since you found out Will was missing. You clear your throat again, determined to continue. “I was with him last night. My brother and I live right off Mirkwood, a few blocks from here. He only had a few more minutes before he would’ve been home.” 

Hopper stares at you. “Mirkwood?”

“It’s where-”

“Yeah, those moron kids explained it to me. I just didn’t think someone your age would call the street that, too.” Then, as an afterthought, Hopper adds, “The bike was found a block from here.”

His words sting, but you ignore it. If the bike was found only a block from the Byers’ home, then that means that something had to have happened to Will only minutes after you last saw him. You feel the familiar churning in your stomach, wracked with guilt. 

“Did it have any blood on it?” Joyce now asks, and you’re thankful she’s taken the attention off of you. 

Jonathan sees your distress and grabs your sweater so that you fall back a bit from the cops and Joyce. “Do you need a minute?”

You can only nod, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll either cry or throw up. He gently guides you to his room, closing the door. Once you’re alone, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight. You’re shaking harder than ever now, Will’s happy and shining face from last night keeps flashing through your mind. 

You were the last one who ever saw him.

You’re the one who was last responsible for him. 

You.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. You’ve always loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, your height difference being just enough that he always rests his chin against your head when he hugs you. 

“I’m the last person who saw him.”

“Y/N, I was the one who asked you to only bike him halfway-”

“No,” your voice comes out louder than you intend it to, and you push Jonathan away. He lets out a confused noise as you grapple at him, forcing him to look directly at you. “I should’ve been with him, Jonathan. It’s your job to support your family, and it’s my job to help you. I have to… I have to be the one who helps you.” 

You’ve always been fascinated by psychology, and you remember reading in one of the journals about codependency; the term was used in relation to addiction, specifically alcoholism, but it had caught your interest. To love someone to the extent that their actions make you feel responsible for them, to selflessly take on their burdens to a debilitating extent, well, it reminded you of your relationship with Jonathan. 

You’ve always taken on whatever Jonathan has had to deal with, ever since you were kids, and it’s always come so naturally to you. He’s never asked you to, and sometimes the extent to which you carry his weight angers him, but it’s how you love.

It’s who you are. You’re always the one who helps, it’s what you need to be able to do. If you can’t help the ones you love the most, then what good is your love for them?

Jonathan may not know about codependency, but he knows how hard you love those closest to you. “Bug, listen to me.” He grabs your face, almost aggressively, in order to cut off your rambling. “My mom, she-she’s already spiraling and I can’t… I need you. I need you to be here, with me, right now. If I lose you too, then I-I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His words cut through you like glass. He’s right, you know he’s right, and you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. This guilt is different from the guilt surrounding Will. This is mixed with shame for allowing yourself to spiral so far and forcing Jonathan to take care of you. Joyce is clearly unwell, you can’t fathom how much he’s had to deal with today. 

You gently remove Jonathan’s hands from your face and take a step back. If you’re going to help him, you need to collect yourself. From here on out, you have to be a wall for him to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen to him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jonathan shrugs at you, now allowing a hesitant smile to cross his face. “If it makes you feel any better, it took a lot less pleading to get through to you. I’m still working on my mom.” 

The joke is foul, one that should make you feel even worse than you already do, because what sixteen year old has to plead with their mother to remind her that he’s there, too? The joke is horrible, and it’s exactly what you need to find yourself laughing, and Jonathan joins. 

Codependency can be a bitch, but Jonathan understands you in ways that no one else can. 

“You think the cops are gone?” You ask, wiping away the remaining tears. 

Jonathan listens for any sign of them and shakes his head. “No, I think we’re all clear.”

He walks out the room first and you follow after him. Joyce is standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter with a far off look in her eyes. You and Jonathan look at each other and you motion for him to go talk to her. He nods, and then you motion to the living room to indicate that you’ll continue working on the missing posters. 

Carefully writing on the posters soothes you, in a way. It’s rhythmic, providing a sense of lull that you readily embrace. You faintly hear Jonathan talking with his mother, then you watch as he leads her to her bedroom and shuts the door. When he returns he sits next to you on the couch and begins to work on the posters as well. No words are needed. 

You work on the posters in silence for a few hours until it nears 3pm. Dustin will be getting out of school soon, and you have to be there for him when he’s home. While Will may be Jonathan’s brother, he’s also your brother’s best friend. You get up and head into the kitchen, long familiar now with its layout and usual contents within the fridge, and quickly prepare the ingredients for spaghetti. It’s a simple meal, but Jonathan and Joyce need to eat. Once it’s all laid out, you return to the living room and tap on your friend’s shoulder. 

“Hey, I have to head out now to check on Dustin, but I just put a pot of water on the stove along with some noodles on the counter. I also cut up some vegetables and put them in the fridge for the sauce. Start the meal whenever, I laid everything out for you.”

“Thank you, really,” Jonathan exhales, relief evident on his face. He hadn’t even thought about dinner, which you figured he wouldn’t. 

You bend down to kiss the top of his head. “Anytime, bee. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” 

“Just…” you linger at the door, not fully wanting to leave him all by himself. “Be careful, please.” 

“Go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Jonathan reassures you.

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night.

It’s brief, but the flashback punches you in the gut. You close your eyes, holding onto the image of Will’s face in the moonlight last night, and when it fades you take a deep breath and force yourself to leave. 

The second you’re on your bike, pedaling away from the house, you let the sobs that have wracked against your throat all day out. It’s messy, the tears coming down your face faster than you can wipe them away. All the fear you’ve felt is now able to freely come out. It’s not the safest way to bike home, but you know that if you hold the tears in any longer you’ll collapse. You do your best to still be alert, but apparently you fail because a BMW honks at you to avoid you hitting it. 

“Fuck!” You yank your bike to the right, having no idea that you had been on the left side of the road, and topple over. The fall isn’t anything bad, but it definitely is your final straw for the day. You lay in the ditch you’ve landed in, staring at the November sky, and let the pain from your skinned knee serve as something to ground you to reality. 

“Holy shit, did I hit you?” 

Steve Harrington stands over you, a horrified look in his eyes. 

“Unfortunately not, otherwise I’d be able to sue you and get money out of it.” 

“Uh… okay?” He offers you his hand, although still very confused. “You didn’t like, happen to hit your head or anything, right?” 

You accept his help, albeit mostly because you have to, and brush yourself off when you’re up. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention, sorry.” 

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you. 

“So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?”

Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead. 

“No,” you say, now repositioning your backpack so that you can get back on your bike. “Thanks anyways, Harrington.” 

Steve continues to follow you, even after you’ve started to pedal away. “You’re welcome, random girl I almost hit!”

You’re a bit further now, and you still feel like utter shit, but his words somehow make you laugh a bit. For a brief moment, you forget about everything, so you call behind, “It’s Henderson!” 

“That’s an odd first name!” The boy shouts after you, still following from a distance. 

“Y/N Henderson!” You’re fully yelling now, a good yard away, but you can tell that Steve hears you based on the way he begins to wave eagerly, finally stopping next to his car. Faintly you understand the boyish charm that makes him so loved by all the girls in the school; you understand why Nancy Wheeler has fallen for him.

“Bye, Y/N!” It’s faint, but you swear you can hear a smile in his voice.  

The good mood that Steve Harrington inexplicably puts you in vanishes when you near your house. Nothing has changed, yet it feels as if something has shifted. Will had been here only hours ago. You spot Dustin’s bike laying on the grass, haphazardly thrown as usual. 

Dustin is just taking off his coat when you enter, immediately running over to him to pull him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Y/N!” he squeaks in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” You know you’re squeezing your brother harder than you need to, but God. He’s safe, in your arms, and you’ve now learned that not everyone can say the same about their own loved ones. 

Dustin wiggles a bit, trying to break away from the hug, but you only pull him in tighter. “Geesh, no one died.” 

Normally you’d berate him, but you embrace his snarky comments. They’re what make Dustin so unique, his humor one of your favorite parts of him

When you don’t respond, Dustin stops wiggling around and finally accepts the situation. “I love ya too, sis.” 

You giggle a bit, now pulling away. “At least mom isn’t home right now. The minute she hears about what’s happened, we’ll be on lockdown.”

Dustin’s eyes widen. “Shit, you’re right.” 

“Lan-”

“Language, I know.”

You ruffle his hair, now feeling a bit better. Dustin is still Dustin, so maybe everything will be okay. You and your brother go into the kitchen for your post school snack, and you call your boss to inform her that you can’t make it to your shift. The words “family emergency” catch in your throat a bit, and Mrs. Waters is kind enough not to push it.

Dustin catches you up on his day, informing you about Hopper questioning him and the other boys. 

You scrunch your nose at that. “Is that even legal?”

“Unsure, but it was awesome.”

“Will went missing, Dustin. It isn’t ‘awesome’.”

Dustin tilts his head at you. “Well, I bet Will is going to have a blast hearing everything when we find him.” 

His words are so matter of fact, as if he already knows that Will will be found after all. His naivety worries you a bit, but you also can’t help but indulge in his hope as well. Then you think about what he’s just said. “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

Your brother pretends he can't hear you, miming at his ears. “Dustin-”

“What?”

“Dustin, you and the boys can’t just-”

“I can’t hear you!” He’s running to his room now with you quick behind his heels. 

“Dustin, I swear to God-”

“I gotta do homework, Y/N, bye!” He slams the door in your face. 

You sigh. There’s no getting through to him, years of being Dustin’s older sister has taught you that, so you go into your room instead. You might as well get started on the assignments you missed today, and you have a huge chem test tomorrow, so you’ll focus on that and keep an ear out for Dustin. Whatever he’s planning with the boys, you won’t let them do it alone. 

After a couple hours of silence from Dustin’s room, you decide to call Jonathan. The line rings for a while with no answer, and eventually you give up. It makes sense that he’s not answering, he’s had a long day. You hope he’s asleep, but you know him better than that. He’s probably holed up in his room, trying to distract himself like you are right now. 

A loud thud from Dustin’s room breaks you from your thoughts. Then you hear a quiet “shhh!” that sounds suspiciously like Lucas, and you immediately throw on your shoes and a jacket and march outside. 

Dustin is halfway out of his window when you arrive, and Mike and Lucas stare at you, caught red handed. 

“Guys, I think she can hear us.” Your brother says, breaking the silence. Mike scoffs at him and Lucas groans. 

You eye the three of them, unamused. “Your best friend just went missing, what the hell are you guys doing out here so late and alone?”

Dustin awkwardly finishes his descent down, finally landing on his feet with a thud. He secures his hat back on his head and goes to grab his bike. You block his path. 

“I’m serious, one of you needs to start talking, now.” 

Lucas and Dustin look at Mike, who is their unofficial leader of the gang, and he huffs. “Look, Y/N, I like you-”

“How thrilling.” You say, voice monotone. 

The boy ignores you and continues to talk. “But Will is missing, and we aren’t just going to sit around and wait. He’s our friend, we have to do something.” 

You open your mouth to speak, but Lucas interrupts you. “You’re definitely our favorite sister in the group, so you’d be even cooler if you let us go.” 

Again, you try to respond, but this time Dustin beats you to it. “Yeah, you’re like, totally cool already. If you pretend that you never saw us, that’d be great.” 

“Guys-”

“And don’t give us a whole lecture about safety. That’s all bull.” Mike says. 

“Boys!” You scream. They all fall silent, not used to you ever raising your voice at them. You’ve only ever yelled at them once or twice, preferring to be the “cool” sister whenever you can, but right now they’re seriously pissing you off. 

“Let me speak.” When no one says anything, you continue. “I’m not going to stop you guys from looking for Will. In fact, I support it-”

“You do?”

You shoot Mike a death glare, which promptly shuts him up. “Yes, I do. However, I’m not letting you guys go alone.” 

The boys all groan at this, acting as if it’s the worst thing in the world to have you tag along with them. You ignore their complaining and head over to where your bike sits against the porch. You zip up your coat, the chill from the night making you shiver a bit. 

“No arguing, or I’ll call all your moms. Ours included, Dustin.”

“Why me?”

“Look, guys. I’m proud of you for stepping up, but I’m coming with. The last time I let one of you boys go off into the woods alone…” 

The boys shift uncomfortably now, realizing how heavy the guilt weighs upon you. After a few beats of silence, Mike finally gives in. 

“Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “But the second you start to freak out, you’re gone.” 

You salute Mike, hopping on your bike as you all begin to bike away. The ride doesn’t take long, since you live just off of where Will was last seen. Thunder rumbles when you all approach the crime scene, and you shudder a bit. 

“It’s going to rain, guys.” You inform them. 

Dustin looks up at the sky with uncertainty. “I think maybe we should go back.”

Mike is quick to shut down the idea, urging the others to keep going. You admire his loyalty to Will, and you figure it’s why the two of you butt heads so often. Out of the entire group, you’re the most similar to him. 

Lucas and Mike go under the caution tape first, and Dustin hangs back. You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We can go back, you know.” 

He clenches his jaw, jutting his chin out a bit. “No, Will needs us.”

Your brother puffs out his chest and follows after his friends, leaving you to take up the rear. More thunder rumbles and the rain begins to come down. You flip your hood up, thankful you remembered to grab a hoodie when leaving. 

Mike guides the way with his flashlight, then Lucas, then Dustin, then you in the back. You make sure to keep your eyes on the three boys, scared that the second you look away they’ll be gone. The woods have always creeped you out, but you push your fear down to keep them safe. 

“Will!” Mike calls out, the rain now pouring down on you guys. 

“Byers!” 

“Will, little bee!” You call out as well. He never liked when you called him that in front of the others, but tonight was an exception. 

“I’ve got your X-Men 134!” Your brother bribes, unintentionally making you laugh a bit. If Will is nearby, he’ll surely come out to claim his prize. 

Your foot catches on a tree log, and you slip in the mud before just barely managing to catch yourself. It’s getting hard to see given how dark it is and the rain surrounding you. Dustin voices his concerns, only to be called a baby, and you bite your tongue. If you defend him, he’ll only look more like a baby to his friends. 

“I’m just being realistic!” He retaliates, which you commend him for. 

“Dustin’s right, guys. It’s getting really bad out here. We’re surrounded by a ton of trees, don’t they attract lightning?” You ask, now paranoid that you’ll be struck down any second. 

“You guys are being sissies.” Lucas taunts, annoyed as well. 

You try to argue, but Dustin voices a thought that’s been at the back of your mind. “Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

You think back to how Hopper seemed worried when he investigated the Byers home. From what you can recall, he suspected that Will had been running away from something, explaining why he’d abandon his bike.

“And now we’re going to the exact same spot where he was last seen, and we have no weapons or anything?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. This definitely wasn’t your best idea, and you’re regretting letting them follow through with their plan. For someone who claims to want to keep their loved ones safe, you really suck at it. 

“Dustin, shut up.” Mike voices, though he now looks a bit concerned as well. 

“He’s right, Mike.” You speak up, stumbling a bit in more mud. Your shoes are definitely ruined, now. “I was at Jonathan’s when Hopper showed up, he thinks Will was running from something.” 

The boys go quiet now, and when you’re about to suggest going home, you hear rustling in the bushes. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Mike asks. 

Your heart stops as the rustling continues and you all start to twist and turn, looking for the source of the sound. The rustling gets louder, almost as if it’s getting closer, and you tighten your hand around your flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon just in case. 

Then, the light flashes upon a little girl, drenched in an oversized yellow shirt, shivering. Her head is shaved, but her small stature suggests to you that she is indeed a girl. You all stare at her, no one saying a thing. She stares back, a terrified look on her face that breaks your heart. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper. 

Her eyes land on you; something about her reminds you of Will, and  you know that nothing will be the same again.

-

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