#and that’s like two of the second cousins

[sarroth]

To add to the music: I love how many people in a sports stadium will sing along tonSweet Carolina together. I love that people who barely met each other will reach out and grab each others hands because the song says to and we are all just feeling so in love with people for just a second before the game is over and half of us go back to being introverts again. I love how no matter what bar or wedding I go to, just enough people know to yell ‘Where’s the fucking salt’ during Margaritaville that I don’t stand out like a swore thumb, even if I am sometimes the loudest and probably most obnoxious one to do it. I love that so many families have their own music oddities: My mother-in-law will often play Eric Clapton’s Cocaine at wedding receptions, I don’t know why; and a bunch of friends from college at some point came up with a dance-in-a-circle routine for Piano Man where two of them Air Harmonica.

A non-wedding music memories: Playing Eye of the Tiger and the Mortal Kombat song for my friend because he was losing his energy and even falling asleep when we were supposed to be studying for psychology. Or jamming to Whoop There It Is, on cassette, in my parent’s basement with my cousin, back when it wasn’t old school and we weren’t yet old fools but clearly were so cool.

I love sharing music with younger kids, whether it’s my own son or clients. Oh to go back and relive when Whoop There it Is was my son’s favorite song for a bit; when he’d refer to Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain as ‘The one with the BASS GUITAR’ or Second Hand News as ‘The “bamp bamp” song’; when he was obsessed with James Bond music rven though I haven’t met him watch the movies yet - though now it’s The Matrix trilogy pieces, which is still pretty cool, if less sing-along-able - or how into Hamilton he got where for a time to the point where I thought we’d have to plan a trip to Philadelphia to check out the site of the Continental Congress. Speaking of Hamilton, was a teenage client who I always let borrow control of the radio / USB input that finally got me to listen to it, as I was doing my perennial ‘I’m not interested in that because it’s too popular and it’s everywhere’ contrarian bit that I can’t always help. Or introducing 90s rap, hip hop, and R&B hits (including Whoop There it Is) to a client who’d only ever want to listen to modern rap - enough throwbacks play on the radio that he knew Dre and Snoop Dog and were surprised the songs he liked of theirs were ‘so old.’ Or the client that would occasionally tell me what part in Disney songs that I could sing, like Aladdin (fair, I’m a guy and shes a girl), or Baloo (fair, I’m an adult and shes a kid), or Elsa in ‘Do You Wanna Build a Snowman’ (wait, all I get to say is ‘Go away Anna’?! But I know most of Ana’s lines!). Good times.

Lord knows that the United States has and continues to commit atrocities. I can't justify that. And the current political situation here is scary as hell. But I love this place. I love the Atlantic Ocean and New York City and the Pacific Northwest. I love my Blue Ridge Mountains with my whole entire heart. I love cardinals and mockingbirds and kudzu and possums and black rat snakes and the way the woods smell in the mornings. 

I love that Americans are known for complimenting strangers. I love that we fry everything, and that we do it well. I love 12-foot-high plastic Halloween skeletons in people’s yards and tacky Christmas lights that stay up too long. I love that we are an unabashedly goofy people.

I love bluegrass music. I love stepping. I love that there are always folklorico dancers in my town’s Mardi Gras parade. I love that my town has a Mardi Gras parade, even though most people here aren’t Catholic or French and didn’t grow up with any kind of Carnivale tradition. I love that if "Livin On A Prayer" comes on a pizzeria, at least one person at each table won't be able to stop themselves from singing along. I love that the middle school gym shakes to the rafters when families cheer for THEIR baby finishing eighth grade and that they bring balloons and bouquets and flower garlands to celebrate.

I love the 80 year old couple at our local No Kings protest. I love all the little kids there with their families, too. I love the brass band that always shows up at protests here and plays old union songs and gospel music. I cry like a damn baby every time I hear “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing.”

This country is horrible and selfish and destructive, but it’s also wonderful and kind and full of people loving and fighting and trying to make things better. And the people saying that there’s only one kind of real American, and that if you don’t look like they do or talk like they do or think like they do, then you don’t count, those people can go pound sand. I’m as real American as they come, and those people aren’t the only ones who get to love our country.

[viennajoell]

Fourth & Frustrated

Summary: You spend the Fourth of July with Luke Hughes, giving him grief all day about being *Captain America* after his Team USA captaincy.

Word Count:3,100

Warnings:Sexual content, praise, teasing, light dominance, protected sex, dirty talk, possessive!Luke, oral (f. receiving)

You knew Luke wasn’t going to get through the Fourth of July unscathed. Not when he was walking around Jack’s backyard in a tight-fitting USA Hockey tee — sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched on his head, red Gatorade in one hand looking like the unofficial poster boy for America itself.

And especially not after captaining Team USA.

“Captain America in the flesh,” you said, sliding up behind him at the grill. “How lucky am I?”

Luke groaned without turning around. “You said you’d be chill today.”

“I said I’d be fun. You inferred chill.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “You’ve made that joke six times.”

“And it’s still funny.”

“It’s not.”

You stepped closer, fingers grazing the waistband of his shorts, voice dropping just loud enough for him to hear: “I could pledge allegiance to you real quick, if that’d shut me up.”

Luke turned fully then, one brow raised. “Keep talkin’. See what happens later.”

Oh, he was already over it.

Which meant you were just getting started.

---

By the time the sun set, you’d called him “Captain America” in front of Quinn, Trevor Zegras, and two of his cousins. You’d saluted him with a hot dog. You’d asked if he had a shield “or just weaponized sexual frustration.”

And you very deliberately bent over to pick up your sunglasses while he was watching.

To his credit, he took it like a champ mostly smirking, shaking his head, muttering things like *you’re gonna pay for that* under his breath.

You kept pushing.

Because deep down, you wanted him to snap.

---

The fireworks started just after nine. You curled up between Luke’s legs on the grass, leaning against his chest, the night air warm and buzzing. His hands were on your waist, fingers drumming lazily. But you felt it — the tension. The restraint.

"You good?" you whispered over your shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Yeah.”

“You sure? You seem quiet.”

Another kiss. “Just… counting.”

“Counting?”

“Seconds ‘til I get you alone.”

Your heart stuttered. Your stomach flipped. You swallowed a smile. “Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

You looked back at him, smirking. “Careful, Cap. You’re sounding a little unprofessional.”

That did it.

Luke’s jaw flexed.

“You’re done.”

---

You didn’t even make it to the guest bedroom before he had you pressed against the hallway wall of the lake house, lips on yours like he’d been holding back all day because he had.

“Still think I’m Captain America?” he muttered between kisses, his hand sliding under your top, fingertips warm against your stomach.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, breathless. “Captain’s all clean cut and respectful…”

Luke groaned. “You are so lucky I’m not tying you up right now.”

“Wouldn’t stop you.”

He cursed under his breath, grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

“You wanna tease me? Fine,” he said, backing you up toward the bed. “Now I’m in charge.”

You dropped back onto the mattress with a smug little smile. “Always were, Cap.”

That smugness vanished the second he knelt between your legs, pulling your shorts down and tossing them aside with one smooth motion.

His voice was low, rough. “Open your legs.”

You did. Heart pounding, heat pooling low in your belly and Luke didn’t waste a second. He kissed up your inner thigh, slow and steady, one hand bracing your hip while the other spread you for him.

Then his mouth was on you.

Tongue firm, focused, devastating. He licked you like he owned you, groaning when you bucked your hips, moaning softly when you cried out his name.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, thighs shaking. “L-Luke—”

“You don’t get to talk,” he growled. “You spent all day mouthing off. Now you’re gonna take it.”

And God, did he make you take it.

You came once with his mouth on you, twice more with his fingers and tongue working together and just when you thought he’d finally give you a break, he kissed up your body, hovered over you, and whispered:

“Turn over.”

You did, dizzy with heat, and felt the rip of a condom packet behind you.

“Still smug?” he asked, voice raspy.

You nodded. “Kinda.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Not for long.”

He slid into you with one deep, smooth thrust.

He moved slow at first, grinding into you, hand in your hair, kisses down your spine.

But it didn’t stay slow.

He got rougher with every thrust, deeper, more desperate, panting your name like a prayer, like a promise.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groaned. “All week. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You whined his name, clawed at the sheets.

“You take me so well,” he murmured, hand gripping your hip tight. “All mine, huh?”

“Yours,” you gasped. “All yours.”

He reached around to rub circles against your clit, whispering filthy things in your ear, until you were coming again, hard, shaking, moaning his name like you’d forgotten every other word.

Luke followed a few seconds later, groaning into your shoulder, hips stuttering as he came deep, holding you close.

---

Afterward, he cleaned you up gently, still catching his breath. You laid back against the pillows, completely spent.

He crawled into bed beside you and pulled you into his chest, burying his face in your neck.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not gonna lie,” he said sleepily. “That might’ve been the most patriotic thing I’ve ever done.”

You laughed. “Think the founding fathers would approve?”

“They’d be proud.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. “You’re still Captain America to me.”

He groaned into your skin. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to flip you over again.”

“Who says I wouldn’t let you?”

He paused. Then lifted his head slowly. “Give me ten minutes.”

You grinned. “Make it five.”

[hearts4hughes]

❦⋆ bridgerton au ~ ballroom encounters

note: all the next chapters/parts will be released weekly each wednesday at 5pm est!

the thing about you is you were raised to be admired. the posture, the composure, the perfectly balanced expression that says look, but do not speak unless you’re worth my time. it’s not vanity—it’s legacy.

your family name does most of the heavy lifting in the room, but you’ve never minded. power is quiet when you wear it well. you say please like a dare. you say thank you like a promise. you’ve had suitors cry over you and you’ve had their mothers beg. and still, nothing interests you. not the gowns (though you wear them like armor), not the dances (though you never miss a step), and certainly not the gossip.

you’re bored tonight. the ballroom is too hot. someone keeps playing the wrong waltz. your champagne is warm and someone nearby just mistook you for your cousin, which, honestly, feels like grounds for exile.

you let your eyes scan the chandelier above you. it’s older than the building. thirty seven crystals, by your count. or maybe thirty eight. someone bumped your elbow when you hit thirty three and now you have to start over. you step back, just slightly, and a little sigh escapes. your mother would kill you if she heard that sound escape your lips.

“now, now, y/n.” she’d always say in a high-pitched and faux voice. “that is not the sound a lady makes.” you almost roll your eyes at the thought. mother loves you, she really does. she just has an odd way of showing it. probably passed down from her father the way things always are.

you’re daydreaming about running away from this god awful place when you crash into someone. your heel slips, the champagne sloshes forward, and you try to pivot, but your hand jerks, and the glass jolts upward. then something cold and expensive splashes all down the front of someone’s jacket.

a man stands before you—tall, broad, and deeply unimpressed. you already know who it is before you look up. “seriously?” he mutters. rafe cameron stands in front of you with a scowl and a growing stain on his suit. still, he stands there like the room belongs to him, all loose-limbed arrogance and perfectly ruined hair. women orbit him, men avoid him, and fathers despise him. tonight, he’s already turned down two dances and disappeared behind a curtain with the daughter of a viscount.

you stare at the stain blooming across his lapel. “oh, god.” your lip curls up in disdain.

his mouth twitches like he’s two seconds away from saying something foul. “that was tailored in milan,” he drawls.

you raise an eyebrow. “how tragic.” he stares at you, hard and cold. he’s waiting for you to either cower or apologize or maybe burst into tears—because that’s what most girls do around him. but, you just tilt your head. “you should watch where you stand,” you say evenly. “some of us have better places to be.” you keep your gaze straight, not bothering to make eye contact. he was so far below you it was ridiculous.

he scoffs. “some of us have better things to spill.”

“some of us—” you start, ready to say something so vile that even your grandmother would have a heart attack, but his expression shifts. it goes from smug and annoyed to quick and distracted. he glances past your shoulder and his whole body goes still. you turn your head just enough to see the pack of pastel nightmares approaching. four girls, all giggles and pinned curls, practically sprinting toward him.

“lord cameron!” one calls. “i must ask—”

he cuts her off by taking your hand. “come with me,” he mutters.

“absolutely not.”

“do you want to be trampled?” he hisses.

“it’d be an interesting way to go.” you bite back, eyebrows furrowed, and cheeks warm.

he tugs you closer, breath hot against your ear. “dance with me. please.”

a breathless laugh leaves your lips. “are you begging me?”

he shakes his head and bites his cheek, but he already has your wrist. “only a little.” he charms. you don’t let him lead you—you let him think he’s leading. you let him press his hand to the small of your back and drag you into the center of the floor. you let the music catch you like a net, let the rhythm pull you under. you don’t smile, but you keep your head high and your posture perfect. when his hand squeezes yours, you don’t flinch. “you’re not bad at this,” he says as if you haven’t been ballroom dancing since you were two.

“you’re not as tall as i remembered.”

“you’re not as cold.”

“you’re not as clever.”

his eyes narrow. “i’m clever enough to know you hate this.”

“i don’t hate dancing,” you murmur, eyes softening like you’re about to confess something to him. his lips fall from that dumb grin as he waits for you to continue. then, your fingers move down his arm and pinch his skin through the fabric. “i hate you.” you smirk as his eyebrows drop.

he hisses and glares daggers into you. then, he’s spinning you and you let him. he doesn’t smirk, but you can practically feel the pride radiating off of him. “hate me all you want,” he says lowly. “you’re still here.”

you don’t answer. you just stare at him like he’s something you could draw—something beautiful and smug and dangerously close to being ruined by your hands. the music slows, the dance ends, and people clap. but you don’t. instead, you pull away from him like he was scum from the bottom of your shoe. he watches you walk off with a smile that’s far too satisfied. you don’t look back, but you know he’s still watching—he always does.

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[spiicii]

bloodline property / part twelve: i bet on losing dogs

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa / sami zayn x fem!reader word count → 8.8k summary → after finally seeing how cruel roman can be to his bloodline, you decide to confront him on his behavior. you and jey discuss your future. warnings → angst, crying, emotional manipulation, bad bdsm etiquette, bad communication, dubious consent (kind of?), dom/sub, daddy kink, possessive behavior, lore accurate tribal chief (roman is not always nice to his cousins), hair-pulling, mentions of punishment links → masterlist / taglist

You didn’t speak to Roman again for three days. 

You stayed in your room alone, sleeping in a bed that was technically yours but had never been used before. Roman hadn’t given you this room with the intention of you sleeping in it. Your job was to warm his bed, not sleep in your own. 

You only allowed Jey in to come see you, but after the second day, you sent him away too. You needed to be alone. You were just too confused, trying to process everything you had experienced. 

While seeing Roman lose his temper had been frightening, that wasn’t really what had scared you. It was only when he’d dragged Jey in front of you by the hair that you felt real fear, his words venomous and his hands promising violence. You had the image of him towering above Jey emblazoned in your memory, Roman’s hand raised as if to strike him. Jey had cowered beneath him, even as Roman’s eyes glinted cruelly in the light, his lips curled into a terrifying snarl. You still had nightmares about it. 

Sometimes you could still feel Roman’s hand around your own throat, his fingers flexing dangerously as he resisted the urge to choke you for real. Sometimes you’d wake up in a cold sweat and believe that his rough hands were there, threatening to cut off your oxygen supply. He’d choked you plenty of times before, all during sex, but this had felt personal. His face had been a mask of anger, his eyes blazing with betrayal and jealousy.

You didn’t eat. You barely slept. You needed time to think. After all, you’d been with Roman for two years. Two years. 

In all that time, you’d hardly ever seen him be cruel to his cousins. If anything, he’d shown that he loved them. You remembered so many nights when you would all pile into Roman’s bed, limbs intertwined as you all cuddled beneath the sheets. Roman would watch over you all throughout the night, a silent and protective Tribal Chief guarding his family as they slept. You remembered the poker games, the movie nights, the birthday parties… all the memories of laughter and love and devotion. 

But it wasn’t always like that, was it? That little voice in your head reminded you of the truth. 

You remembered the arguments, times where you’d heard Roman yelling in the hallway before coming into the penthouse to avoid berating his family in front of you. You remembered the few segments you’d seen on social media of Roman’s cruelty in the ring, though you’d quickly scrolled to avoid seeing it. You remembered the bruises on Jey’s body that he swore were from matches even though you were certain he hadn’t had a match that day. 

But you’d never said anything. You’d turned a blind eye. Made excuses. Assured yourself that it wasn’t what you thought. Roman could never, would never hurt his family. You reminded yourself of your place: you were Bloodline property. Roman made it clear that you were not to get involved. Your job was to serve. Nothing more. 

For the first time in two years you pulled out your phone and found the old episodes of SmackDown. You needed to see it for yourself. You needed to know. 

So you watched. 

*****

When you emerged from your room three days later, you were surprised to see Jimmy sitting outside your door. You knew that the twins were taking turns keeping watch, both of them fearful that Roman might come breaking down your door if they left you alone. You could hear them whispering outside your room at night, though you hadn’t had the courage to press your ear up against the door to try to make out their hushed conversation. 

Jimmy quickly scrambled to his feet when you emerged, his eyes wide and worried as you came face-to-face. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands twitching at his sides as he resisted the urge to reach out to you. “You’re up.” 

You nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. All the words you had right now were for Roman. Not for him. 

“Jey’s in the shower,” Jimmy said, shifting nervously in front of you. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, dark circles forming like bruises around his pretty eyes. “He’ll be out soon.” 

You shook your head. Jey wasn’t who you needed right now. 

“I need to talk to Roman.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse and you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. “Where is he?” 

Jimmy seemed distressed. “He’s in his room. But I think… well, Jey probably wants to talk to you first.” 

You shook your head again, already pushing past him. “I’ll talk to him after.” 

“Wait, wait!” Jimmy reached out to grab your arm and you quickly recoiled, your eyes flashing in anger.

“You gonna try to control what I do too?” Your words came out venomous and Jimmy pulled away from you as if he’d been burned, his face now a mask of hurt. 

You took a shaky breath, passing a hand over your tired face. “Look, I’m sorry,” you murmured, trying to compose yourself. “I just… I have to do this, Jim. We’ll talk later, okay?” 

Jimmy bowed his head, and you were suddenly reminded of one of the Bloodline segments you’d watched. Roman’s words had been just as venomous as your own, his eyes glinting with something malicious as he humiliated Jimmy backstage. Jimmy had just stood there and taken it, his head bowed and his words soft. 

I’m sorry, my Tribal Chief. 

You felt nauseous. You watched in regret as Jimmy backed away, now avoiding your gaze. 

“I’m sorry, pretty girl.” Jimmy’s words were an echo of his apology to Roman. “I’ll… I’ll be here if you need me.” 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Had Roman made you cruel too? 

You’d spent hours watching every agonizing minute of the televised abuse Roman had dished out to his Bloodline. You’d seen the beatings, the manipulation, the tricks and lies, and the humiliation to all of them: Jey, Jimmy, Sami, even Solo. And that was just what the camera had caught. What else had Roman done to them? How many bruises had he given them? How many lies had he whispered in their ear? How many times had he manipulated each of them into falling in line, threatening to cut them off from their family, their mana? 

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” you whispered, but you weren’t just sorry for this. You were sorry for everything. 

Jimmy seemed to sense the weight behind your words, looking up at you with concern. There was something else shining in his big brown eyes, something comforting and vulnerable. 

You quickly walked away so he wouldn’t see you cry. 

*****

Roman was sitting at his desk when you arrived, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at something on his laptop. He didn’t hear you come in at first, though when you closed the door behind you he sat up quickly, his eyes quickly shifting from confused to relieved. 

“Pretty girl.” Your name came out breathlessly, as if he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I… are you okay? I’ve been waiting for days.” 

He crossed the room and you instinctively took a step back, watching as Roman immediately stopped at the sight. He looked hurt now, so similar to Jimmy’s face just moments ago. They really were related, weren’t they? Roman looked like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb. 

“I saw everything.” You tried to keep the shakiness out of your voice, though your conversation with Jimmy had rattled you. “I watched it all. Every show. Every PLE. Ever since you won that title back in 2020.” 

You watched as that hurt look began to dissipate from Roman’s face. His brow began to furrow again, his lips now set into a firm line. He looked guarded. Watchful. Wary. 

“I saw that Hell in a Cell match with Jey. How you made him fall in line. Then everything you did to him afterwards.” 

Roman’s face gave nothing away, his eyes now watching you carefully. 

“I saw you treated Jimmy,” you continued, tears pricking at your eyes again. “Then Solo and Sami. They’ve been nothing but loyal to you and you treated them like the dirt beneath your shoes. Is that who the Tribal Chief is? Is that who Roman Reigns is?” 

Ah, there was Roman’s anger. You could see it simmering in his eyes now, familiar and wrathful. 

“Because I’ve spent this entire time thinking you were someone different. I never thought my Daddy could act that way.” 

“I never hid any of it from you.” Roman’s voice was low and controlled, though you saw the way his jaw was twitching in anger. “You could have watched it at any time.” 

“But you knew I didn’t.” You couldn’t stop the tears now, your anger and hurt now beginning to bleed into your words. “You knew I hadn’t seen any of it. You let me believe that you were this good person. That you were a kind Tribal Chief. A man who loved his cousins. His family.” 

“I do love this family,” Roman snapped, his eyes so dark they looked black. “Why do you think I do what I do? It’s to keep this family together. To keep us on the top of the mountain where we belong.” 

You’d heard all of this before. Roman often used this argument with his cousins whenever he berated them on TV. 

“But I don’t expect you to understand that.” 

“I understand enough,” you spat. “I understand that a good leader, a real leader, wouldn’t need to do that shit to inspire loyalty. It’s cruel.” 

“You don’t know anything about cruel.” Roman’s lip curled, now looking just as angry as he had when he’d grabbed you by the throat. “Or being a leader. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when you reaped the rewards of my labor. How many years have I let you live here in this fancy penthouse, eating caviar and getting your nails done every week? Where do you think that money comes from, huh? From being nice?” 

“I didn’t know.” Your voice was shaky now, the tears beginning to drip down your cheeks. “I didn’t know it was like this.” 

“Bullshit.” Roman took another step in your direction and you backed up further, even though Roman was still across the room. “You may not have watched the show, but you’ve known me for years. I’ve never once hidden who I was from you. You’ve seen the way I’ve treated Jey. The way I’ve treated all of them. I haven’t changed. You just decided to develop a conscience.” 

“So you’re admitting that you’ve been unnecessarily cruel to them?” Even though your voice was shaky, the anger was still there. “It didn’t have to be like that, Roman. You didn’t have to be so mean.” 

“Mean.” Roman repeated the word like it was funny to him, shaking his head as if you’d said the stupidest thing in the world. “I’ve been firm, pretty girl, but never cruel. Never mean. If you paid any attention, you’d see that.” 

“What else am I supposed to think when you smack them around?” you hissed. “And that’s just what the cameras caught. I’ve seen the bruises on Jey. I know you’ve done worse than that.” 

“Jey needs a firm hand. Always has. He don’t know how to listen.”

“Yes, he does!” You angrily wiped away your tears, your fury now taking a front seat to your pain. “He’s been nothing but loyal to you. Is that how you repay loyalty? With violence?” 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Roman spat. “You’re not the Tribal Chief. You’re not the Head of the Table. You don’t run this family. I do.” 

You felt sick. Roman was sick. All of this was sick. 

“So is that why you safeworded?” Roman’s voice was low. “I was too rough was Jey? Was that it?” 

“You know it was.” You felt the tears well up again even though you kept trying to brush them away. “I didn’t like how you were treating him. He didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“We both know that’s a lie.” 

You snapped your head up, meeting Roman’s angry gaze. 

“What did he do wrong?” you demanded. “Spend more time with me? Is that a crime?” 

“It is when it’s him,” Roman replied. “He knows better. He knows you belong to me.” 

“People don’t belong to other people.” 

And that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? 

Roman didn’t view your submission as something precious and sacred. He didn’t see that your loyalty was a gift, something that you offered to him of your own volition. Instead, he saw your submission as something he was owed. Something he was entitled to. To Roman, your dynamic was more than sex. He believed he owned you. Body and soul. 

“You belong to me,” Roman repeated, the conviction in his words clear. “Jey belongs to me. You all do.” 

Your gaze was drawn to the ula fala resting on his bedside table, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. You remembered the necklace being draped across his neck by the elders of his family, Roman’s knowing smirk as he towered over Jey’s trembling form that night he’d beat his cousin into submission. The power he’d inherited had given him this entitlement; this belief that you were nothing more than an asset to him. You and his entire Bloodline. You were weapons. Toys. Resources. Playthings. You all existed to benefit him. Nothing more. 

This was more than submission. This was more than ownership. This was power. 

“Have you considered that Jey likes it?” Roman’s cruelty knew no bounds. “Have you thought about how Jey could walk away at any time but he doesn’t? This isn’t a hostage situation, pretty girl. He can walk right out the door and I wouldn’t stop him. He could walk away from this family forever and make it on his own. Might even make a decent singles star if he could clean up in the ring a little.” 

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. “And be cut off from his family? His little brother? His twin?” 

“They can leave too,” Roman countered. “They all can. But they don’t. Don’t you think that means something?” 

“I think you’ve whispered enough lies in their ear to make them think they can’t leave,” you said. “I think you’ve manipulated them into staying with you, knowing they won’t leave each other to suffer alone.” 

“Suffer?” Roman laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I’ve elevated their career to heights they’ve never dreamed of. The twins are now considered the best tag team of all time because of me. Solo got brought up to the main roster because of me. Even Sami has finally gotten his career out of the gutter just from being near me. But you think they’re suffering?” 

“Yes. That’s what I think.” 

Roman sniffed, his jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might snap in half. The silence stretched long between you, tension forming in the room like a thunderstorm. You could feel your body shaking, your emotions at an all-time high. 

“You’ve known me for two years,” Roman’s voice was low, something like hurt bleeding into his words. “I’ve taken care of you. I’ve given everything your heart desired. I’ve given you a place here. A purpose. I even let you screw around with my cousins because I knew you liked them. I’ve never done anything to hurt you. But I rough up Jey one time, now I’m some kind of villain? Some master manipulator that has held four grown men hostage in the Bloodline? Does that make any sense to you?” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Twist this around. Try to make it into something it’s not.” 

“You mean by telling the truth?” Roman sounded incredulous. “You’ve been my submissive for two years and you’ve always been happy. What am I supposed to think when you come in here throwing these wild accusations at me?” 

“They’re not… I’m not…” 

“Now you’re going to throw away two years of a good thing because you’ve suddenly decided you don’t like how I run my family?” Roman’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t changed, pretty girl. But you have. You didn’t like how I pushed Jey around. Why? You’ve seen me do it before.” 

“Not like that.” you protested. “Not like–”

“I think there’s something you’re keeping from me,” Roman interrupted. “Another piece to this puzzle I’m missing. Because I refuse to believe that you suddenly hate me and view me as some kind of monster after two years of happiness.” 

Roman’s words stunned you. You wished that the evidence wasn’t so damning, but he was right. This wasn’t coming out of nowhere. You had seen his cruelty before, but you’d always looked the other way. But things felt personal now that you and Jey had something serious going on. 

Something that Roman didn’t know about. 

“So what is it then?” The Tribal Chief’s eyes blazed. “What’s changed? Why do you suddenly care about how I run my family?” 

You wanted to say it, but the words felt lodged in your throat. You’d just stood here and thrown accusations at Roman, knowing full well that you weren’t innocent either. You hadn’t been honest with him about what was going on between you and Jey. You’d been lying to him since Valentine’s Day, secretly in love with his Right Hand Man as you both carried on the affair behind Roman’s back. 

“Well?” Roman’s face was twisted into a sneer. “I’m waiting.” 

You stared at the floor, wishing you could sink into it and disappear. “I…haven’t been honest with you.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, allowing you to continue. 

“After Valentine’s Day, Jey and I have been spending more time together. And that wasn’t just him. I wanted it too.” 

Roman stared. “Why?” 

“Because…” Tears welled in your eyes again. “I’m in love with him.” 

Roman was silent. You didn’t dare look at him, the shame of your treachery like a hot iron in your throat. 

“You made me promise to be honest with you.” Your voice cracked, the tears making your words shaky and unsure. “You always wanted me to communicate my feelings and I didn’t. I’m sorry, Roman. I shouldn’t have hidden this from you.” 

Then Roman did the last thing you ever expected him to do. 

He laughed. 

You looked up at him in confusion, watching as he doubled over in laughter, his dark eyes crinkling and his grin wide. 

“Wait, wait, stop. This is just too good.” Roman chortled, wiping a tear from his eye. “You mean to tell me that this whole thing is about you having a little crush?” 

You suddenly felt defensive. “It’s not just a crush, Roman. It’s–”

“Love?” Roman laughed harder. “Sweetheart, sometimes you really amaze me. Did you really think I would be angry about this?” 

You stared at him in shock. “You… you’re not angry?” 

“No, of course not!” Roman shook his head in disbelief, still grinning. “Why on earth would I be angry about that?” 

“I…” 

Roman had left you speechless. You had been expecting anger. Jealousy. Perhaps something similar to what you’d seen three days ago when Roman had lost his temper. You hadn’t expected this reaction at all. 

“Baby, is that why you’re so upset? You don’t like that I’ve hurt your new lover’s feelings?” Roman’s tone was mocking now and you instantly bristled. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“It all makes sense now,” Roman smirked. “You never cared before. But now you do. You’ve caught feelings for little Jey. My Right Hand Man.” 

Roman crossed the room until he stood right in front of you, still grinning in amusement. You looked up at him. 

“I thought you’d be furious,” you whispered. “I thought you’d lose your temper like you did the other day.” 

Roman smiled and you couldn’t decide if it was genuine or not. “Pretty girl, I lost my temper because you disobeyed me. Because Jey disrespected me. I’m not going to get angry about your feelings. Those are important to me.” 

“They are?” 

Now Roman looked hurt. “How could you even ask that? Of course, they are. Your feelings mean everything to me. You mean everything to me.” 

This wasn’t how you expected this conversation to go at all. Now you felt confused. 

“But, Roman…” It felt strange to say his name. To you, he’d always been Daddy. “I thought you’d be mad. You always said you didn’t always like sharing.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not like this changes anything between us, sweetheart. You got a little crush. So what? It’s not like it means anything.” 

“What are you talking about?” You took a step backwards, staring at him in disbelief. “This does mean something. Jey and I…we love each other.” 

“Oh, please.” Roman waved his hand, dismissing the idea. “You don’t really love him. Not like that. It’s just a little affair. It’ll pass in a few weeks.” 

“That’s not true.” You could feel your anger rising again. “It’s more than that.” 

“Is it?” Roman didn’t seem convinced. “If you really loved him, then why have you stayed with me? Why have you let the others in the Bloodline fuck you? Wouldn’t you want your new man to have you all to himself?” 

Roman’s words hurt like a slap to the face and you took another step backwards, colliding with the bedroom door behind you. Roman still seemed amused. 

“And if he really loved you, wouldn’t he have swept you away and taken you away from all this? Started a new life with you so you could live happily ever after?” 

Tears blurred your vision, your mind beginning to swirl in confusion. But Roman wasn’t done. 

“So you can see why I’m not exactly threatened, sweetheart," Roman continued. “I mean, shouldn’t it bother him that you belong to me? That you let all his family members fuck you? Or is he okay with his beloved being Bloodline property?” 

“Stop,” you gasped, trying to keep the tears from falling again. 

“I’m just saying, it’s not looking to me like anything serious. Because you and I both know you’re not leaving me. And Jey’s not going anywhere either.” 

“We could.” You tried to sound serious and angry but the words came out small. “We could leave. We could leave you and walk away.”

Now Roman really did seem amused, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Well, nobody’s stopping either of you, pretty girl. Door’s right there. All you gotta do is turn the handle.”

He was right. You could pack your bags, grab Jey, and walk out the door, never looking back. 

Was that what you wanted?

“Sweetheart, I didn’t think you’d want to leave. We’ve got a good thing going here." Roman reached out a hand and this time you didn’t recoil, allowing him to cup your cheek. "I love having you here with me. I love being your Daddy."

Roman's eyes seemed genuine and kind, confusing you even further. How much of this was real?

"I don’t want you going back to that awful place I found you in. I want to keep you safe. I want to give you the world, pretty girl. Just like I always have. That hasn’t changed, I swear.” 

You looked up into his brown eyes, trying to gauge the truth in his words. Did he mean them? Or was this another one of his manipulations? After everything you’d seen, you knew he was good at mind games. But looking into Roman’s eyes, he seemed sincere, his gaze at you benevolent.

“I can tell you’re not sure about what you want,” Roman murmured, his hand warm and surprisingly comforting against your cheek. “But I think we need to be realistic, sweetheart. You can leave if you want, but Jey won’t go with you. He doesn’t want to leave the Bloodline. He loves this family. He loves me. And he doesn’t do very well on his own.” 

Tears were blurring your vision, making it difficult to focus. You knew you should pull away from Roman’s hand, but you found yourself leaning into it, instinctively seeking his reassurance. You felt confused and lost, unsure of what you wanted or what to do. Did you want to leave Roman? What would that mean for you? You’d been his submissive for two years. You couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t belong to someone. And after so long being in the Bloodline, you couldn’t imagine life without them anymore. 

And then there was Jey. 

Was Roman right? Would Jey even want to leave the Bloodline? You thought back to the nights where you’d laid beneath the sheets together, whispering sweet promises in each other’s ears, so scared that Roman might overhear them. 

I’ll never leave you. 

I love you. 

I’m yours. 

You’d never discussed the possibility of walking away from the Bloodline with Jey. You’d been too afraid of what it might mean. And too scared of what he might say. Would he abandon his family for you? Would he walk away from his bloodline, his brothers, his heritage, all for you? And would it even be fair to ask that of him? 

Roman smiled again but this time it was laced with poison. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But you know how Jey is. He’s a hothead. He’s rash. He doesn’t think before he acts. He needs a firm hand to keep him out of trouble. I give him protection. Give him the leash he so desperately needs. The leash he craves. Do you really want him out there all alone? No family? No Tribal Chief? Not even his twin by his side? Because Jimmy won’t leave either. He’s brought enough problems to this family. He doesn’t want to bring more.” 

You felt nauseous again, but it was hard to think straight when Roman was making so much sense. Jey was rash. He had a temper and a bad habit of running his mouth, often to his own detriment. He’d always relied on Roman to keep him straight, to pull on the proverbial leash whenever things got out of hand. 

And Roman was right about Jimmy too. Jimmy wouldn’t leave, not after the DUIs and arrests. Jimmy had made it very clear that he wanted to fall in line and avoid tarnishing the family name even further. If you took Jey with you and left the Bloodline, wouldn’t you be leaving Jimmy behind too? Jey never did well without his twin. 

“Like I said, I think you should talk to Jey about it,” Roman sighed, though he didn’t seem particularly concerned, still cradling your cheek as if he loved you. As if he cared about you. “But I don’t think it will change anything, pretty girl. We both know Jey will do what he always does: fall in line.” 

You let his words sink in, settling into your mind and heart like poison. Your eyelashes were wet with tears as you stared up at him, eyes wide and scared.  

“And what about me?” Your voice was small, all of your fears and worries bleeding into your words. 

Roman’s smile wasn’t kind, but for some sick, twisted reason it still comforted you. “Oh, pretty girl,” he crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You and I both know you’re not going anywhere.” 

*****

You weren’t surprised to find the twins waiting for you when you finally left Roman’s room. They seemed anxious, Jey pacing the length of the living room while Jimmy sat on the couch with his head in his hands. They were at your side the second you stepped into the room, their eyes wide with concern and worry. 

“Pretty girl,” Jey whispered, looking more concerned once he caught sight of your eyes red-rimmed from crying. “Are you okay? What’d he say?” 

You couldn’t think of what to say to him. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, your mind turning over the cruel words Roman had said to you. 

You and I both know you’re not going anywhere.

You felt like you were going to throw up. You swayed unsteadily on your feet and Jimmy was quick to wrap his arm around your waist. 

“What did he do to you?” Jey’s words were equal parts scared and angry. “If he laid a hand on you, I swear to God, I’ll–”

“No, no, Jey.” You were quick to stop him before he said something Roman might overhear through the door. “He didn’t do anything to me. I’m okay. I’m just…” You closed your eyes. “I just want to go back to my room.”

“We’ll take you, sweet girl,” Jimmy murmured, quickly sweeping you off your feet before you could protest. “It’s alright. We gotchu.”

Your heart clenched as the twins ushered you back to your room, Jimmy’s hands gentle as he laid you down on the bed. 

“You have to eat something, baby,” Jimmy whispered, leaning down to brush a stray hair from your forehead. “We can’t let you go on like this. Please let me make you something.”

You glanced over at Jey and saw that he was still standing in the bedroom doorway, his expression so devastated that you felt tears well up in your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, please,” Jimmy pleaded. “You haven’t eaten. You’ve barely slept. We don’t even know if you’re drinking water or showering. You can’t keep shutting us out. We… we supposed to be a family.”

Now the tears did come and you couldn’t stop them. You were vaguely aware of Jimmy climbing up into the bed with you, wrapping his large arms around you to pull you close to his chest. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl,” Jimmy whispered, pressing kisses into your hair in an attempt to calm you. “It’s gonna be alright.” 

The bed dipped again and you felt another pair of arms wrapping around the two of you, Jey pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. 

“We gotchu,” Jey murmured, though his voice was strained, clearly trying to hold back tears of his own. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

And they didn’t for the rest of the night.

*****

Jimmy eventually did get up to make you dinner, leaving you and Jey alone. So far, Jimmy had been a buffer. A shield to protect you from the conversation you needed to have with Jey but couldn’t. Now that Jimmy was gone, the air in the room seemed tense, something fragile hanging in the air between you. 

“You look scared,” Jey murmured. He was curled up beneath the sheets with you, his gaze concerned as he stared at you. “Are you okay?” 

He sounded so sweet. So sincere. You wanted to cry again but you tried to fight it. You needed to be brave now and say what you needed to say. What you’d been avoiding saying this entire time. 

“I…owe you an apology, Jey,” you whispered, suddenly having trouble maintaining his gaze. “A big one.” 

Jey’s brow furrowed, his large hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he replied. “And you don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“I do.” 

You forced yourself to look at him, watching as his pretty brown eyes stared at you in confusion. 

“I saw how Roman was treating you,” you breathed, your voice shaky. “And I didn’t say anything. I ignored it.” 

You watched as Jey’s expression crumpled, something brittle and vulnerable now shining in his dark eyes. 

“I…I lied to myself.” You forced yourself to continue, even though it felt like a chasm was opening in your chest. “I told myself that it wasn’t what I thought. That he was just being Roman. That he would never really hurt you. That he was just being firm.” 

You felt pesky tears prick at your eyes again and you quickly brushed them away. 

“I turned a blind eye because I didn’t want to believe it. I avoided watching the show because I think I knew deep down what was really going on, but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until a few days ago when all that happened that I really saw him for what he was. And I’m sorry, Jey. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

You could feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but you knew there was no point in brushing them away again. There would just be more. And this all that you were made of now? Tears and vicious lies? 

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Your voice was shaky now, though you forced yourself to continue. “And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But I can’t let you sit there thinking that I was just naive to all this. I had my suspicions and I ignored them. This is my fault, Jey. This is all my–”

“Don’t say that!” Jey was quick to grab your face, his own eyes shining. “That’s not…god, it’s not your fault, baby. None of this is your fault.” 

“You should be mad at me,” you whispered. “You should hate me. I’m no better than he is.” 

“That’s not true!” Jey’s grip on your face tightened, suddenly angry. “How could you even say that? You’re nothing like him.” 

You couldn’t help but cry, though you resisted when he tried to pull you close. 

“I let it happen,” you sobbed, pushing him away. “I didn’t say anything and I let him do it. I hurt you, Jey. I’m supposed to love you and I hurt you.” 

“You didn’t,” Jey insisted, his hands warm against your wet cheeks. “You didn’t do anything to hurt me, sweet girl. This is Roman talking. He got in your head. It’s what he do, baby. He plays them mind games and make you think you’re going crazy.” 

“But he was right,” you gasped. “I’ve known him for two years. I knew who he was. I just made excuses for him.” 

“Stop.” Jey kept trying to pull you closer, but you were fighting it.

“No, you stop!” Your cheeks were wet with tears, your vision blurring as you tried to keep him off you. “You can’t just pretend this wasn’t my fault. You can’t blame it all on him!” 

“Pretty girl, you’ve tortured yourself enough.” Jey’s voice was impossibly soft, his brown eyes sad as he stared at you. “It’s time to stop now. It’s time to let it go.” 

“Don’t say that!” Now it was your turn to be angry. “You shouldn’t let me off the hook for this. You…you should hold me accountable. You should admit that I did something wrong because I did, Jey. I hurt you and I regret it so fucking much. I’m sorry, Jey. I’m so sorry.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jey whispered, still trying to pull you close to him despite your fighting. “Alright, I hear you, baby. I know. Come here, though. Don’t pull away from me.” 

“You shouldn’t.” You still tried to push him away, your voice shaky. “You shouldn’t hold me. You should punish me. You should make it hurt.” 

“Stop.” Jey continued to pull you closer, his eyes still sad. “No more punishments, okay? Not between us. Haven’t we been through enough?” 

That was enough to break you. The tears came freely now, your body wracked with sobs as you finally allowed him to hold you. You pressed your face into his chest and cried, your tears wetting the front of his shirt.

“It’s alright, sweet girl,” Jey was whispering, one his hands reaching up to pet your hair. “No more punishments. No more leashes. It’s just us, remember? We promised.” 

“We’ve said a lot of things, Jey,” you wept. “But it doesn’t change what I did. It doesn’t change that I hurt you.” 

Jey took a shuddering breath, reaching down to grasp your chin just so he could meet your teary eyes again. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes wide. 

You immediately nodded, clinging to his shirt like a lifeline. 

“Then trust me when I say you didn’t hurt me, baby. You could never hurt me.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, his eyes still sad, but kind. “I promise, sweetheart. It’s alright. Please, don’t cry anymore, okay?” 

You tried to get your breathing under control, but the softness in his eyes made your soul ache. “But…but I–”

“You saw the best in Roman,” Jey interrupted, his large hand moving to cup your cheek. “You didn’t think he’d do anything like that because you wanted to see the best version of him. That ain’t a crime, pretty girl. It just shows you’re a good person.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” Jey leaned down to kiss you again. “You’re the best person I know. You can’t beat yourself up about this. Especially since I…” Jey trailed off, suddenly unsure. 

He took another breath, steadying himself. “I didn’t want you to see. I didn’t want you to know. I tried to hide all this from you. You know that.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. “I should have seen it sooner. I saw the bruises, even though you swore they came from a match. I heard the yelling in the hall. And you might have been hiding it, but Roman wasn’t. I think he liked throwing it in my face.” 

Jey didn’t say anything in response to that, though he still held you close, his lips brushing against your forehead to silently reassure you. 

The silence stretched long between you. You curled up closer to his chest, forcing yourself to steady your breathing. 

“What if we left?” you whispered. “What if we walked away? Then he couldn’t hurt you anymore.” 

Jey didn’t say anything for a long time. 

As the silence stretched on, you could feel his body tense beneath you, seemingly struggling to find the words to respond to you.  

When he finally did speak again, his voice was small, the words fragile. 

“And go where?” 

A good question. One that you didn’t have the answer to. 

Where would you go? 

There was a reason you’d never discussed this before. Neither of you could picture a life outside of the Bloodline. You’d never imagined the possibility of ever leaving Roman and clearly Jey hadn’t either. 

You felt the tears well up again in your eyes. What business did the two of you have falling in love? It was clear you knew nothing about it. Maybe Roman was right. If you really loved each other, wouldn’t you both be trying to leave the Bloodline? Wouldn’t you want to stop being Roman’s submissive and only belong to Jey? Wouldn’t Jey want to take you away from here and build something new with you? 

“I don’t know,” you finally said, your voice soft. “I don’t know anything anymore, Jey.” 

The silence stretched long again, but you didn’t know what else to say. Why were you both so bad at this? 

“I…” Jey seemed like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure how. “I ain’t ever been apart from my family before.” 

You didn’t say anything.

You could feel Jey tensing beneath you, his breathing uneven. “I took an oath to Roman,” he whispered. “I took an oath to my family.” 

You closed your eyes, your heart aching. But still, you didn’t say anything. 

“If we run away, I’ll be cut off.” Jey’s words were small, his voice heartbroken. “I won’t be allowed to talk to them again. I won’t have a family anymore. I won’t even have my culture anymore. My heritage. My mana.” 

You could feel his body begin to shake, his arms around you tightening. 

“Jon won’t leave,” he said softly. “He already told me. He… he can’t disappoint our family again. Without the Bloodline, he has nothing.” 

“He has you,” you whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And me.” 

Jey took a shuddering breath. “It’s not enough,” he breathed. “It’s not enough.” 

No. No, it wasn’t. 

You closed your eyes again. “I just don’t want Roman to hurt you anymore.” 

Jey didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he just held you close, occasionally leaning down to press gentle kisses into your hair.

“I’ll do better,” Jey eventually muttered, his voice tight. “He won’t hurt me again, pretty girl. I just gotta stop fucking up.” 

You frowned, leaning up to look at him. “What?” 

Jey had trouble meeting your eyes. “That’s the only reason why he do it,” he murmured. “It’s to keep me in line. I’m a hothead. I… I don’t think before I act. I–”

“That’s not a good reason for him to hurt you,” you interrupted, trying your best to keep the anger out of your tone. You didn’t like how his words weren’t really his. This was Roman talking. “He can’t just push you around.” 

Jey swallowed, suddenly looking unsure. “It ain’t like that, pretty girl,” he said. “He’s the head of the family. The chief. He’s gotta keep us in line. It’s the rules.” 

“His rules,” you insisted. “And his rules aren’t always fair to you.” 

“You don’t understand.” Jey shook his head. “This ain’t just about wrestling. Hell, this ain’t even about me. This is our culture, baby. The chief calls the shots. Even the elders have to listen to him. It’s just the way it is.” 

You wanted to argue more, but you didn’t want to seem insensitive. You understood that Roman’s authority was absolute, requiring every family member, young and old, to fall in line. Jey wasn’t supposed to care about himself. He was only supposed to care about the Tribal Chief and their heritage. Their Bloodline. 

“So I’ll just do better.” Jey’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then he ain’t gotta push me around. I just gotta step it up, baby. That’s all.” 

You felt like he was downplaying Roman’s unfairness to him. The Tribal Chief’s punishments were often over small things. You remembered one time where Roman had beaten Jey on live television with a steel chair simply for speaking to Kevin Owens without expressed permission. 

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Jey whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead. “I don’t want you to worry about me. It’s gonna get better. I promise.” 

This silence was tense and fragile. You didn’t want to argue with him, even though you knew he was wrong. He shouldn’t have to bend over backwards and walk on eggshells to please his cousin. Roman was the one who needed to change. Not Jey. 

“Are you gonna leave?” 

Jey’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, his question timid. You could tell it was taking all of his willpower to keep his voice steady. 

You leaned back to examine his face. His pretty brown eyes were wide with hope and fear. He seemed almost pleading as he stared at you, as if to communicate everything he was feeling, but refusing to say. 

Don’t go. 

You reached out to touch his cheek. His skin was soft, his eyelashes fluttering as you cradled his face in your hands. He looked so sweet. So vulnerable. How could Roman ever want to hurt him? You felt sick. 

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, hoping that your eyes conveyed the sincerity of your words. “Not now. Not ever. I thought we promised each other that?” 

Jey took a shaky breath, leaning into your touch for comfort.  

You stared at him, your heart aching. God, why couldn’t you just be selfish and beg Jey to leave with you? The words were on the tip of your tongue. All you had to do was say them. 

Run away with me, Jey! You would plead. Fuck your family. Fuck tradition. Fuck everyone who isn’t us. Run away with me and let’s build something real together. Let me take you somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again. 

But then you saw that haunted look in Jey’s eyes and knew it wouldn’t be fair. You couldn’t ask him to leave his family behind for you. It wouldn’t be right and you would be selfish to ask it of him. 

“But is that what you really want?” Jey asked softly, still staring at you. “Do you want to stay? With Roman?”  

You dropped your hand from Jey’s face. 

This was the real problem, wasn’t it? If you stayed, you would still belong to Roman. The Tribal Chief wouldn’t allow you to remain a part of the Bloodline unless you continued to serve him. You’d still have some access to Jey, but you couldn’t be together. Not the way you wanted. And after everything that happened, there was no guarantee that Roman would let you have any alone time with Jey again. 

But it would still be better than completely walking away. If you left the Bloodline now, you’d be leaving Jey behind forever. 

“He doesn’t hurt you,” Jey whispered, his eyes wide and searching. “I know you’re mad at him, but he’s always been good to you. And I know my cousin. He…he really cares about you.” 

You could tell it took a lot for Jey to get out the last sentence, something akin to jealousy flickering on his tired face. 

“You’re only mad at him because of what he did to me. He takes care of you. He always has.”

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…” Jey took a deep breath, struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes. “I’m saying that I’d be grateful for even a small piece of you. Even if you can’t be mine.” 

There it was. 

The final nail in the coffin. 

This is what it all boiled down to. 

You couldn’t be Jey’s. 

He wasn’t willing to leave the Bloodline for you, no matter how good his reasons were for staying. You couldn’t be together the way you wanted. This love affair had been nothing more than a dream. A risk you’d taken in the hopes for something better that had ultimately failed. 

Jey wouldn’t leave Jimmy behind. He wouldn't break his oath to Roman. He wouldn't turn his back on years of tradition, no matter how much it hurt him.

And the worst part was that you weren’t allowed to be angry about it. You couldn’t ask Jey to sacrifice everything for you. This was his family. His culture. His heritage. His honor and identity. This was bigger than you. This was more important than you. 

You just wished it didn’t hurt so fucking bad.

“This was a mistake,” you whispered, pulling away from Jey’s embrace. “We shouldn’t have done this.” 

Although Jey hadn’t said it out loud, this was your reality. Jey would always belong to Roman. To the Bloodline. And you’d both been foolish in thinking you had any kind of future together.

Jey looked confused. “What are you talking about, baby?” 

You shook your head. “We tried it, Jey, and it didn’t work. We’re not supposed to be together. You can’t leave the Bloodline and I…I belong to Roman. It won’t work. Now we know.”  

Jey’s face twisted as if you’d stabbed him with a knife, his brown eyes now shining with tears. 

“Don’t say that.” 

He tried to reach out for you again, but you pulled away further, avoiding his hurt gaze. 

“This was nothing more than a dream,” you murmured. “A stupid, naive dream we had. But that’s all it was, Jey. A dream. We need to face reality.” 

“What reality?” 

You really couldn’t look at him. Not for this. 

“That Roman was right,” you whispered. “That nothing is going to change. And that you’re going to do what you always do.” 

“Yeah?” Jey’s words were angry, but his face still betrayed his hurt and confusion. “And what’s that?” 

You forced yourself to look at him. You needed to be cruel for both of you. 

“Fall in line.” 

*****

When you went back to Roman’s room that night, you weren’t surprised to find him there waiting for you. He quickly took you into his strong arms, holding you steady as you sobbed. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he murmured, the low timbre of his voice comforting you. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, baby. I’m sorry you’re hurting. But it’s okay, I’ve got you now. Daddy’s got you.” 

He quickly swept you off your feet and carried you to bed, allowing you to curl up in his lap as he held you close. 

“You were right,” you gasped, clinging tightly to him. “You were right about everything.” 

Roman sighed. “I know, pretty girl.” Though he didn’t sound triumphant or happy. If anything, he sounded sad. “And I’m so sorry.” 

He continued to keep his arms wrapped around you, murmuring low, comforting words to you as he kissed your forehead. 

He allowed you time to calm down, waiting until your tears dried and your breathing evened out before getting back up to grab you some water and a warm washcloth. 

“Here.” He passed you the water, using the washcloth to clean your tearstained face. “Drink, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you now, okay?” 

You nodded, obediently taking a few sips of the water as Roman continued to pet your hair and whisper sweet praises to you. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, pressing one final kiss to your forehead. “Now kneel.” 

You blinked up at him in surprise, but Roman only stared, waiting for you to obey. 

So you did. 

You slid off the bed and onto your knees, your body still trembling from adrenaline and exhaustion from the past few days. And when Roman reached out a benevolent hand to cup your cheek, you couldn’t help but lean into it, staring up at him like he was a god. 

“Now you know,” he said quietly, his gaze almost…disappointed. “Now you know there’s no else in this family who will take care of you like I will. You understand that now, don’t you?” 

You felt the tears well up in your eyes again, but you still obediently nodded. 

“You understand that both you and Jey belong to me. Not to each other.” Roman’s hand drifted to your hair, tugging lightly against the scalp. Not enough to hurt. Just a reminder. “And you now understand that Jey fears me more than he loves you.” 

Now the tears did fall. It felt like something dark and ugly was curling inside your chest like a gunshot wound. You vaguely wondered if you rested your hands there if you would feel blood seeping through your fingertips – some tangible proof of your foolish, bleeding heart. 

“And I’m sorry you had to learn this way, sweet girl. Truly I am.” And the real kicker was Roman did sound sorry. He seemed devastated to see you this hurt, his eyes sad. “But I’m glad it happened this way. You needed to learn.” 

His grip tightened on your hair. Still not enough to hurt, but enough for you to arch your back further, tears still pooling in your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. 

“And I’m sorry about what happened, baby,” Roman murmured, his voice so sincere that you had no choice but to believe him. “With Jey. I’m sorry you had to see that. I know it scared you. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.��� 

He reached out with his other hand to brush some of the tears from cheek, his hand warm. 

“Can you forgive me, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” What else could you possibly say when your master sounded so sincere? 

Roman’s smile was a burst of sunshine, a balm to your aching soul. “Good girl,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “So good for me.” 

He released your hair and you sagged in relief, still staring up at him like a disciple kneeling at an altar. But Roman wasn’t done. 

“We still have other business to attend to, pretty girl,” Roman said, his voice low. “About last night.” 

You remembered. 

“I know you were angry at me,” Roman continued. “And I know you had a lot you needed to get off your chest. But I’m not your boyfriend, am I, sweetheart? I’m your dom. Your owner. Your daddy. And you were very disrespectful to me, weren’t you?” 

You bowed your head, hoping that Roman wouldn’t see more of your tears. “Yes, sir.” 

Roman’s hand was back in your hair again and this time it did hurt. 

“Then let’s make it right.”

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum @marababyyyy @transparentphantomface @eringobragh420 @tssweets @kelbrave @astria0wwe @fairiebabey @romanreignsbae @mandmilovehim @briabrae @psilovey0u @80sredroad @ajenae @dumb-b4mbi @4milly @breathewwe @lov3rla03 @cafeluvs

[atom1121]

Waterbomb Festival

It’s my first time performing in public. I’ve only ever just dances as part of classroom antics. I never did intend to perform where there’s much eyes watching my performance because I’m an I. Just imagining failing a move in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people watching, makes my skin crawl.

But here I am, dragged by my cousin because they needed one more dancer after one of their members called in sick the last minute. He sent me the choreography the night before the performance and told me to meet with him early in the morning to run in quick. Though I agreed to it, I started to second guess myself when I found out where we were performing.

Seoul Waterbomb Festival, my first ever public performance in front of tens of thousands of people, and millions more online. Not only that, we were to perform with no tops on!? As much as I hated it, I couldn’t backout now with just hours before the performance. I ended up constantly going back and forth to the comfort room on the other side of the venue because of my nerves that I didn’t knew who we were gonna perform with until the last minute.

My cousin found me near the entrance, watching the performers before us to tell me that we we’re next to perform. I followed him backstage where the other backup dancers were already topless with just a leather vest, and in the middle of them all stands two women. One visibly taller than the other and flirting with the dancers, the other, though smaller in stature was bigger in other areas, was stretching her vocal cords when she turned and laid her eyes at me.

“You must be the replacement.” She said gleefully while rushing to my side to greet me. “Thank you for coming in last minute, I’m-”

“Kwon Eunbi.” I blurted out of shock. I’ve watched her fancams a couple thousand of times, whenever I masturbate. Especially when she does her waterbomb performances. And her outfit this time does not shirk compared to her previous appearances. She stood a bit surprised by me recognizing her but chuckled right after.

“It’s nice to know I’m recognizable. I’ll be in your care for today’s performance.” She held out her hand which I accepted in a handshake. “I promise it’ll be worth it for you.” She continued with a bright smile.

We ended up chatting a bit after I confessed that I was a fan of hers early on in her career. I basically told her almost everything about what made me a fan of hers leaving out the details of me jerking off to her fancams.

“Unnie, are you flirting with the new guy now?” Said her friend as she strutted to us. She still has this seductive expression to her face as if she was turning towards her next prey.

“It’s nothing like that, Sian. He said that he’s a fan of mine so I’m just giving him some fanservice.” Eunbi replied giddily. “Besides, he’s here to help us on a last-minute notice so I should be good to him as well.” She continued while running a finger on my arm.

Sian noticed and let out a small smirk before taking her turn on me. She scanned me like some detective scanning a suspect. Mumbling something along the line of my measurement while touching my body.

“Ms. Eunbi, to the stage please.” Says the crew only then Sian stopped with her inspection. Eunbi gathered everyone in a circle, the usual “Fighting!” cheer everyone does before a performance. My cousin put his arm over my shoulder and told me to just enjoy it and don’t think about the mistake I might make on stage. As my cousin and I was the last one to enter the stage, I noticed that Sian was not coming in with us. So, I took one last look back and saw her standing there. When she saw me looking at her, she gave me this flirtatious smile and blew me a kiss goodbye before mouthing, “I’ll see you later, handsome.”

I nodded, though not understanding what she meant, probably we’ll see each other again after Eunbi’s performance or something. We took the stage. I was assigned at the back of the formation just in case I end up forgetting some steps or missing the timing. But there’s a reason my cousin asked me to do this and not other dancers he know of.

I was able to do well, being able to catch up to the choreo and formation as I learned for the last 16 hours before this performance. On the last song, Sian also took the stage with us. She was performing the “Rumor” which they performed for the survival show PD48. It was a song I already knew of so I was able to perform it without a hitch. Ending in a success for my first ever public performance.

After we exited the stage, I signaled to my cousin that I’ll be heading for the comfort room first. Probably because I finally relaxed that I feel like I might pee again at any moment. I rushed to the comfort room and took my time to compose myself from the adrenaline of being able to perform in front of other people as well as being on stage with Eunbi. I might’ve made a 4-minute piss last for 10 minutes. As I walked pass the entrance of the stage again, I stopped further to take in the magnitude of what I achieved. I continued back to the waiting room but as I came closer, I heard it more distinctly; moaning, grunting, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. I thought someone must’ve lost it. Watching porn somewhere close. I searched for it, thinking I should give this person some teachings But, the more I searched, going further and closer from the waiting room, I understood it was not coming from somewhere else but inside the waiting room.

“Eyy, no way. Are the dancers watching porn or something?” I thought to myself as I pressed my ear on the door. Hearing the moaning and grunting more clearly and would not mistake it as someone grunting from getting a massage. I steeled myself and opened the door. What caught my eyes was not am embarrassing sight of one of the dancers was watching porn in public, but an orgy with the dancers, and Eunbi and Sian. I froze, my cousin and Eunbi did say that coming would be worth it, but I only thought of it as the experience not an orgy at the end.

Sian was taking as much cock as she could; one in her ass, in her pussy, in her mouth, and in each of her hands. While Eunbi was bent over, still with her checkered top and white bra, sandwiched between my cousin and another dancer taking one on each end of her holes and another jerking off beside her while groping her breasts.

My cousin noticed me and told me to come as he pounded Eunbi’s pussy, saying that this was the bonus he mentioned yesterday. I was dumbfounded. The woman I jerked off to time and time again was like this behind the scenes. Eunbi noticed the erratic behavior of my cousin as he continued to gesture to me to come close. She let go of the dancer’s cock in her mouth and jerked it off as she turned her head towards me.

“There you are, I honestly thought you left already.” She straightened herself and tapped my cousin’s chest, gesturing for him to let go of her. Once my cousin was out of her, she sauntered her way to me. Glistening with sweat and breasts bouncing with each step.

“You’re not planning to just stand there and watch, aren’t you?” She purred, her hand placed at the tent pitched inside my jeans “Your cousin told me you we’re quite packing as well. I was excited to know if he was lying or not.”

Eunbi deftly unbuttoned my jeans, easily freeing my erection. Clearly, she did the same for the others. Sian on the other hand, started groaning as she noticed Eunbi and I. Letting go of those she was jerking off and tapping the one pounding his cock inside her mouth. “Unnie, I already had dibs on him!” She managed to grunt in between ragged moans.

“You’re already having a feast of your own, you greedy bitch.” She chuckled, looking smirk at Sian as she stroked my cock that’s barely contained in her slender hand. “Besides, you can’t leave a dick this marvelous out for long. You need to take it in while it’s fresh.” Eunbi knelt in front of me. Taking my cock inside her wet and warm mouth. Even though she struggled with the shear girth of it, she still managed to take me deep into her throat. Her head bobbed forward and back on my cock, wetting it more and more with her saliva. My cousin and the other dancers playing with Eunbi earlier turned their attention towards Sian. She’s now taking in four cocks simultaneously, two in the back and two in the front while blowing everyone else one at a time. As hard as it might look for her, Sian was enjoying the attention. Her eyes are lost in lust with the number of cocks pointed at her.

“You don’t need to worry about Sian. She won’t break with just that much dicks.” Eunbi said while jerking me off after noticing my attention was somewhere else. “Now just focus on me, you can fuck Sian later as well.” She continued as she raised to her feet, turning her back against me and leaning against the wall and spreading her cheeks wider. “I can’t wait to feel that thick lengthy bat inside me.”

And so, I did. Nudging my cock against her slick folds. Even though my cousin was pounding her just moments earlier, my girth still made it hard for me to penetrate her easily. “Urghh, fuck that’s fucking big, damn it.” Eunbi grunted in pleasure as she tried to accommodate my girth. I decided to slam it into her. Gripping her waist, pulling my hips back a bit, and forcing it all the way inside Eunbi in one go. Eunbi ended up grunting, moaning, and snarling all in one sound. She had her head down against the wall as she slapped my chest, trying to adjust to my size.

“I’m sorry, was it painful? I haven’t done this before, you see.” I didn’t knew any better, I was with a gifted tool but have never used it before. And from what I see with the dancers in the room, I was really the biggest there is in the room.

Eunbi waved her hand, dismissively. “I was just taken aback when you shoved it inside me suddenly. Just give me a moment to adjust.” As much as I wanted to give her that opportunity, her insides just feel amazing that I feel like I might cum anytime and my cock ended up pulsating again and again inside her. “Just a moment please…” She grunted in ragged breathing.

“I… uhh… am not moving though.”

“Really?” She asked, flustered.

“Yes, this is me moving.” I started to move, slowly pulling in and out of her gripping walls.

“WAIT!!! Ugghh… FUUCCKK!!” Eunbi moaned loudly as I continued to thrust deep into her. “You’re fucking big, you’re splitting me apart, bastard.” She continued, her words was harsh but it was laced with lust. I ignored it and continued pounding her. I started to increase my pace as I gotten better control of my urge to burst right there and then.

The room was suddenly filled by Eunbi’s moans and grunts. Trying to muffle her sounds by biting her forearm pressed against the wall but this only spurred me on. I grab hold of one of her legs and lifted it high onto my shoulder. Giving me better access to her clit while I fuck her as well as a beautiful view of her big, tender breasts dangling and swaying with each thrust. Rubbing her clit while fucking her might’ve been too much for her as she ended up squirting but I continued. Rubbing her clit relentlessly while pounding deep into her. “WAIT!! FUCKER!!! I’M STILL CUMMING!!” She snarled, slapping my arm and head thrown back in pleasure. Her whole body convulsed and became limp. I managed to caught her by her waist. “You… don’t… know… how good… you are… shit…” She mumbled, scrambling to grab hold on the wall as her grip always slip down.

I reached my other hand to her chest, while the other supported her waist, to lift her up straight to lean back on me while still lodge deep into her still spasming core. “You’re the first to make me cum this hard, fucker. I might’ve underestimated you. But I’m not one to lose.” Eunbi pushed me back, making me exit her cunt. She then proceeded to lean back on the wall while spreading her legs wide apart and opening her entrance with her fingers. “Come and fuck me again.”

I obliged, this time not hesitating anymore. I lined my dick to her pussy and slammed it hard inside her. Eunbi grunted, face contorted with pleasure and shock. I restarted fucking her intensely, hands gripped tightly on her waist. Her insides felt slicker after she squirted, it was like it was beginning to push and pull my cock on it’s own accord. She then pulled me down by my leather vest into a searing kiss. Like she was trying to leave her mark on me in my mouth. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and into mine. Tangling itself with my tongue. It was a sloppy mess, making the ends of her lips drip with our combined saliva. “You’re the only one I kissed because you’re the first one to actually make me cum. So, treasure it.” She said before continuing to lock lips with me.

We continued mating like animals in heat. The wall behind her seemingly started to waver like it would collapse at anytime but we didn’t care. Sian and the dancers had stopped their activity as Eunbi’s muffled moans filled the room. We didn’t know, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too lost in our own world of pleasure. I could only hear her delightful moans, only feel her wet and warm pussy wrapped on my cock, and taste her delicious mouth.

“I’m close, Eunbi.” I mumbled when I broke the kiss.

Eunbi just pulled me back down to her lips before saying, “Don’t you dare take that marvelous cock out of me.” And kissed me again.

I was close, too close but because Eunbi didn’t want to stop, I ultimately wrapped my arm completely around her waist, slamming my cock hard and fast until I ended up blasting her insides with my thick load. Eunbi bit my lip while I coated her velvety walls as she cums herself.

“Well, that was something. Is it my turn now?” Sian butted in. She walked over to us, cum dripping out of her holes, down her slender legs.

“Let’s continue at the hotel, I feel like we’ll have a longer night than before, right guys?” Eunbi replied, chest heaving while hugging me. The dancers nodded, and everyone began to clean up. Eunbi didn’t let me far from her sight. My cousin dapping me up again and again, feeling proud for my “PERFORMANCE”. We then went to Eunbi’s hotel. Eunbi and Sian had me ride with them rather than with the dancers. On the way there, they started sucking me off. And in the hotel room, we fucked like rabbits. Only taking breaks to eat or go to the bathroom but continue on right after. The dancers filled out when it became dark but Eunbi and Sian didn’t let go of me and we continued till the morning sun came.

After an inhumane number of rounds, we fell asleep in each other’s arms; Sian on my right and Eunbi on my left. Still naked and glistening with afterglow. My first public performance ended in the wildest private performance.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Remembrance of you part 1

Lando Norris X You / 3.1K / slow burn

part 2 / part 3 (coming soon)

Summary In this life, he’s a driver and you’re a girl trying not to fall for him, not again. You were supposed to be invisible, a cousin hidden under Ferrari red, tucked safely behind Charles Leclerc’s shadow. But fate never forgets its favourites. Once, in a life long buried by time, you stood on the edge of ruin, torn apart by duty, silence, and a falling legacy. Centuries later, under Monaco's golden sun and the scream of engines, your souls meet again, unaware of the story echoing in their bones. You dream of a forgotten crest, the piercing ache of sadness. He feels it in flashes, a phrase, the way your eyes hold storms and memories. As old symbols surface and the past claws its way into the present, an erased history, and love, quiet, steady, terrifying, beg for a second chance. If fate brings you together over and over, maybe this time, you’ll be brave enough not to run.

Warning None A/N This is going to be a pretty long ride, hope you'll enjoy it!

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Dreams, they work in mysterious ways. Some said that dreams are the reflection of real-life situations, stress and emotions. But this one was different. You had this one a couple of years back. It was just as vivid, and you were just as confused. You woke up unrested, back slightly sore. The soft sunlight peeked into your room. It was early morning, way earlier than the alarm you’d set the night before. 

You stretched, and your brain reminded you of the schedule for the day. You stood at the window in your living room with a cup of water in your hand, you stared out at the view, Beausoleil, the French town next to Monaco, where you can see the ocean and the parts of Monaco in between. 

The family crest. A tower, two horses and a star.

The image flashed across your brain, the one you dreamt of. You can’t remember where you’ve seen it, somehow you felt like this was not the first time you’ve dreamt about it. You reached a paper on your coffee table and sketched it down. The more you visualised it, the clearer it felt. There was sadness, subtle but there.

You met Charles at his apartment. Alex was out of town.

“Donc, le shooting est prévu pour cette semaine-là, mais il faut que tu me donnes ton emploi du temps pour qu’on vérifie avec le studio.”

(So, the shooting is expected to be this week here, but you need to give me your schedule so we can check with the studio.)

Both of you were sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, and you were going through the schedule with Charles. You were working on the upcoming release of his collection with Ferrari. You did a lot of projects for Charles, being his cousin, it was always easy for him to work with you. He had a lot of confidence and trust in you. Since F2, you’ve been gaining some experience by hanging around and learn how to manage these projects here and there. You briefly did an internship with McLaren, and you left for fashion houses before you started, mainly managing projects and events for Charles.

“C’est quoi?” (What is this?) 

The doodle paper with the crest from the earlier morning slipped through your notebook, and Charles picked it up.

“T’as déjà vu quelques chose comme ça ou pas ? J’ai vu ça dans mes rêves, c’est chelou, les détails étaient hyper précis. “

(Have you seen something like this? I saw it in my dreams, it's weird, the details are super precise.)

“T’as cherché sur Internet?”

(Have you searched it on the internet?)

“Si, mais rien trouvé”

(I did, but found nothing.)

Charles kept looking at the drawing, brow furrowed, fingertips tracing the rough lines.

“Tu sais… ça me dit vaguement quelque chose. Pas dans un rêve, mais… peut-être dans un vieux livre ou un truc chez Papi et Mamie ?”

(You know... it vaguely reminds me of something. Not from a dream, but… maybe from an old book or something at grandpa and grandma’s place?)

You glanced at him, surprised. You hadn't thought about your childhood summers in years.

“Tu te rappelles le bureau à l’étage, la pièce qui sentait bizarre, le bois et la poussière ? Y avait plein de vieilleries, tu sais, tous les trucs que Mamie avait achetés en brocante.”

(Do you remember that study upstairs, the one that smelled weird, like wood and dust? There’s a bunch of old stuff, you know, all the things grandma bought at the flea market.)

You nodded slowly. But something tugged at you, this wasn’t just from a book, was it?

Charles handed the sketch back. “Ça te perturbe, hein ?”

(It’s messing with you, isn’t it?)

You folded the paper back into your notebook without answering. There was a pause, comfortable but weighty. You heard the hum of traffic far below. A seagull cried somewhere over the sea.

Charles exhaled, pushed his hair back. “Tu sais… T’as jamais reparlé de Lando.”

(You know… You never really talked about Lando again.)

The name dropped like a stone into water. Ripples, everywhere.

You looked up slowly. His tone hadn’t been accusatory. Just quiet. Observant.

“There wasn’t much to say,” you said. But your voice wasn’t as steady as you meant it to be.

“Franchement, je ne comprends pas comment tu fais pour ne jamais le croiser. Moi, je le vois toutes les deux semaines, minimum.”

(Honestly. I don’t understand how you do it not to bump into him. I run into him every other week, minimum.)

“Tu te rends compte que vous êtes dans le même championnat, genre… la Formule 1 ? “

(You realise you guys are in the same championship… like Formula 1?)

Charles smiled and rolled his eyes. “Non, mais genre… ici à Monaco.”

(No, but like… here in Monaco.)

“Je ne sais pas, moi j’habite à la campagne en France, pas à Monaco.” 

(I don’t know, I live in the countryside of France, not Monaco.)

You joked, you literally live 20 minutes’ drive away, it was a joke you like to make all the time. You picked up the documents, sorting them back into your bag. Prepared to leave.

“Tu sais que tu vas forcément le croiser pendant le Grand Prix? Et cette fois-ci, t’auras pas l’excuse de te squatter dans l’hospitalité Ferrari“

(You know you will run into him at the Grand Prix? And this time, you won’t have an excuse to squat in Ferrari hospitality.)

You looked at Charles. No answer. Just slightly nodded. He didn’t press further.

“J’y vais, n’oublie pas l’emploi du temps !”

(I’m going, don’t forget the schedule!)

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Always good luck having a bright, beautiful day in Monaco. You were with Charles and Alex, making sure the pop-up for the collection is going well. It was hard to avoid the orange near the red, being second on the constructor championship behind McLaren, the hospitality is stuck between McLaren and Mercedes. And the pop-up had to be near the Ferrari and not the Mercedes. It was not really your choice to begin with. 

You and Alex were talking about something when Charles was greeting people. 

“It’s a clean layout,” Alex was saying. “The colour contrast looks so good in real life without being loud. It’s you. You did well.”

You gave a short smile. “Let’s just get through the rest of the day without anything catching fire, then I’ll believe you.”

Then you hear it, the laugh. You didn’t even hear it at first. You felt it. Like muscle memory. The way your shoulder instinctively tensed before the sound registered. Bright, warm, bubbling over in a way you used to mock, and love. A very specific laugh. The very specific laugh, the one you knew a little too well. You tried not to leave the little comfortable bubble of the conversation between you and Alex, but then Lewis came to greet Alex, and you instinctively stepped aside for the situation. 

“Alex,” Lewis greeted, clasping his hand briefly. “Looking good. Love what’s been done with the space.”

That’s when Alex gestured to you.

“This is Y/N, she’s the project manager of the collection here.”

Lewis turned to you, smiling widely and genuinely. “Nice to meet you. I think I’ve seen you around before. It’s amazing here, I love the design and colours.”

You nodded, heart finally slowing. “Thank you. We tried to keep it bold, but heritage-based. Something true to Charles.”

Lewis strolled casually around the setup, asking thoughtful questions about a few jackets and accessories. You kept it professional, giving details without overexplaining. A small rhythm built up, and for a moment, it felt normal.

Until Lewis moved toward the lounge area, toward Charles, where you came face to face with Lando, whom you didn’t expect to still be there. 

Your eyes locked, and the moment expanded. The background noise dulled, as if someone had dropped a curtain between you and the rest of the world.

He seemed to look exactly the same. A little more mature, not at all the same, but familiar.

“Hey, man,” Lewis said, walking up to Lando with a nod. “Cool stuff here, you might like it. Y/N’s the chef here, I think you’ll like what she had for all this.”

Your name landed like a pebble in a quiet pool.

Lando looked at Lewis, then at you. A beat passed. Then he smiled, a little too tight, a little too delayed.

“Hi. It’s… been a while.”

You swallowed. “Yeah. It has.”

Lewis’s brows lifted slightly, eyes darting between the two of you. “Oh, you two knew each other?”

Lewis was a bit surprised. He’d seen you around in Ferrari hospitality. He knew you worked with Charles, but you were mostly hidden in the back.

You barely registered the question before you answered, your tone measured and easy. “Yeah, sort of. I was briefly an intern at McLaren.”

Lando’s lips parted like he might say something more, but Charles appeared, smooth, casual, and just a touch too perfect in his timing. He saw and sensed the situation, and he came to save the day. You may be his cousin, but you’re like his little sister to him.

“Lewis!” he greeted warmly, offering the distraction you didn’t realise you needed. “Glad you made it, come, I’ll show you the back capsule. There’s a piece I want your opinion on.”

You barely heard the rest of the conversation, grateful that Charles didn’t even glance at you as he whisked Lewis away with practised charm.

Lando stayed where he was for a few seconds, hands tucked into his pockets, watching after the two of them. Then slowly, his eyes drifted back to you.

His voice, quiet. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You looked down. Then up. Composed. Detached. “Yeah”, you nodded a bit, his confusion is understandable. 

And before he could say anything else, Alex called your name from the front. You turned, clipboard already up like a shield, and walked away. 

Lando leaned against the back counter of the hospitality suite, a bottle of water in hand, unopened. His thumb rubbed against the condensation, unfocused. A blur of voices buzzed around him, engineers, PR, Zak in the corner giving someone a rundown, but it all filtered out.

He could still see your face. Still the same, a little more mature, but familiar. And a déjà vu. It’s happening again. When he saw you today at the pop-up, something familiar, the sadness was too strong. It didn’t make much sense. When it comes to you, it never made much sense for him anyway.

‘Yeah, sort of. I was briefly an intern at McLaren.’ The words rang in his ears.

That was it. Just that. Like it was nothing. Like that was the extent of what you were to him.

Like those times spent together out of work didn’t happen, that entire summer break you spent sending voice notes back and forth meant nothing.

He hadn’t known you were working with Charles. He thought maybe you were in Paris now, or New York, doing brand launches or working with faceless models in editorial shoots. He thought he saw your shadow on the Paddock but kept telling himself he needed to get over it, guess those were not your shadow, you were there this whole time. 

He exhaled, long and slow. Leaned his head back until it hit the wall behind him. The same pressure was building in his chest again. He thought he was past it. That he’d moved on. But one second of seeing you and…

“Mate, you good?” Oscar asked, walking in with two coffees, one already half gone.

“Yeah.” Lando straightened up, cracked the bottle open. “Just need to wake up.”

Oscar squinted, unconvinced. “Looked like you saw a ghost down at Ferrari.”

Lando smirked, shrugged. “Maybe I did.”

But inside, he knew. It wasn’t a ghost. He thought it was. But it turned out to be worse. It was someone he never got closure with. Someone who used to feel at home. And now you looked at him like a stranger.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Three years ago, you were an intern at Woking. Being Charles’ cousin did open some doors for you, but you also had to earn it hard. The good thing was that you are not on the Leclerc side of the family. You are on his mother’s side of the family. You don’t share the family name, easier to cover that information. 

You weren’t supposed to be in the sim room that day. Not technically.

Your manager had asked you to drop off some updated press pack notes, and the team’s usual runner was off sick, so you offered. You were only a few weeks into your internship, mostly buried in event coordination, activation decks, and brand launch timelines, but you were hungry to understand how the whole machine worked.

The halls were quieter than you expected. Clean, clinical. Still impressive, even after your third or fourth internal tour. You knocked twice and entered. A pause. No one immediately responded.

And then you saw him. Lando Norris, you know, he was around your age, but he was already a talented podium driver in F1 competing with Charles.

Headphones half on, race boots off, hair a little messy from the helmet. He leaned back in the sim rig, squinting at telemetry data.

He noticed you before you could back out.

“Uh…hi,” he said, blinking like he wasn’t sure if you were real or a hologram. “You lost?”

You almost said yes, just to get out quicker. But you shook your head and held up the folder. “No. I’m with PR. Just dropping this off.”

“Oh,” he said, and stood up. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was coming in. Everyone’s gone for lunch.”

You nodded, stepping forward carefully, setting the folder on the table next to the screen.

He glanced at your name badge, then smiled. “Y/N. Right?”

You were slightly surprised he knew it. “Yeah.”

“I’ve seen your name on the call sheets. You did the merch rollout for Silverstone, yeah?”

You blinked. “Yeah. I mean…I helped.”

He grinned. “That was a sick launch. You guys made us look cooler than we are.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “That’s the job.”

He nodded, grabbed a bottle of water, and leaned against the edge of the desk. “You're always that efficient?”

You tilted your head. “Meaning?”

“Came in, no small talk, folder down, ready to vanish. Like a spy. PR ninja.”

You laughed before you could help it. “I didn’t know I was interrupting.”

“You weren’t,” he said quickly. “Actually, it’s kind of nice. Everyone in here is usually… intense.”

He hesitated, then nodded toward the rig. “Wanna try it?”

You blinked. “The sim?”

“Yeah.”

You looked at the massive setup. “I’d probably crash in the first ten seconds.”

“Most people do,” he said with a grin. “I won’t tell anyone. Scout’s honour.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You were not a scout.”

“No,” he admitted, “but I do honour chaos.”

That made you laugh again. And for some reason, you stayed for a couple of laps, which only delayed your lunch and nothing more. Sat in the sim. Crashed exactly as predicted. Twice. He didn’t tease too much. He showed you how to recover. Gave you tips. And you forgot, for a little while, that you were supposed to be just an intern. Just a quiet name on a spreadsheet. That was the first time. 

You found yourself drifting back to the garage more often than your internship schedule called for.

Lando had this effortless charm, laughing loudly, quick with a joke, always surrounded by people. But when he caught you watching a tricky pit stop or chatting about PR campaigns, his smile softened.

One afternoon, after a long media day, he asked if you wanted to grab a coffee. You almost said no. But you didn’t. The coffee shop was quiet, tucked away from the buzz of the track, where the roar of engines faded into a distant hum. He told stories about karting in Surrey, his love for music and design, and how racing wasn’t always as glamorous as it looked on TV. You shared your own dreams, cautiously, careful not to get too personal.

But as the weeks passed, you noticed the other side.

How Lando’s phone buzzed with messages from different girls. The playful winks at hospitality guests. The way he slipped away for ‘late-night parties’ you were never invited to. Not that you were supposed to.

One afternoon, leaning against the pit wall, you asked him, “Don’t you ever want something… more? Something steady?”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, then laughed. “Y/N, steady is boring. You don’t get to be in F1 without a little chaos.”

You bit back a sigh, and you fake-laughed with him instead.

Because you wanted to believe there was room for both. For the bright flashes and the quiet moments. For the driver and the guy behind the helmet. But the warning bell in your head was loud. You weren’t sure you wanted to get too close.

The paddock was mostly quiet. The hum of machines had faded, and only a few mechanics lingered, finishing up their last checks. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly.

You were sitting on a crate near the garage entrance, scrolling through your phone, trying to catch a moment of calmness before the chaos of tomorrow’s race weekend.

Lando appeared beside you, holding two bottles of water, a little breathless from running.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, handing you one.

You smiled softly, grateful. “Thanks.”

He sat down next to you, unusually close. The air shifted, lighter but charged.

“You know,” he started, voice lower, “I wasn’t joking when I said I liked chaos.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He looked at you, eyes serious. “But you… You’re different. You’re efficient with your work, but chill off the work clock. It feels like… I don’t know. I kind of like that kind of steadiness.”

Your heart skipped, the words sinking deeper than you expected.

“Lando…” you started, but he cut you off gently.

“No pressure,” he said quickly, flashing that disarming grin. “Just saying.”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Taking it as a compliment.”

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I really like that, really.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Then, suddenly, a voice from down the hall broke the spell.

“Oi, Lando! You coming out or what?”

He stood up, flashing you a playful smirk. “Duty calls.”

You watched him walk away, and a few minutes later, from a distance, you caught him laughing, throwing an arm around a group of girls who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Your chest tightened.

You reminded yourself: 

This is the Lando everyone knows. The charming, flirty guy. He’s like that with everyone. Don’t get too close.

Because some chaos was better kept at arm’s length.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

[ye4gerism]

Before I Let Go

★ in which you bring jotaro along to a grad party cookout

content ★ meeting the family-ish, college, post-part 3, cookout/barbecue, black reader

author’s note ★ i love that 4th of july cookouts are never actually about the 4th of july. anyway, i’m still on this jotaro high (requests are open jotaro stans😛)

★ you were dating this guy from japan - jotaro kujo. he was probably the hottest STEM major you knew. you met him during orientation week. out of everyone he met that first week of school, you were the one he found himself coming back to. your relationship lasted all of freshman year.

★ jotaro lets you know that he’s heading back home for the summer and wants to spend time with you before he goes. and you have the perfect idea.

⤷ “my baby cousin is having a grad party. it’s gonna be a cookout. you barbecue back home, right?” you ask him. Jotaro takes a moment to answer. “To be honest…not really. Cooking isn’t my mom’s strong suit,” he admits.

★ and so you drag him down to your cousin’s house the weekend the the grad party. everyone is all over him because he’s so handsome. the minute he gets settled, someone wants to ask him if he has a brother.

★ your male family members obviously have to make sure he’s the right guy for you…and obviously this is tested through a series of card games…which, weirdly enough, jotaro wins them all.

⤷ “when did you get so good at card games? you can’t master Uno but you can play spades?” you question. jotaro simply smiles at you and shrugs.

★ he eats like he’s never eaten before. every second, jotaro has a new plate of SOMETHING. hotdogs, ribs, hamburgers, ANYTHING.

⤷ he packs one plate for the next day as he plans to go home as soon as possible.

★ he’s really shy when it comes to dancing. for like two seconds, you’re trying to teach him a line dance and he sits down and says something about being “too full to dance”.

⤷ but jotaro loves the sight of you dancing with your cousins and how hard you laugh when you mess up.

★ you feel like jotaro earned your family’s approval as he blended in so well and he clearly loved your family and the experience he just had.

⤷ “can’t believe i’ll be gone and you’ll go to more of these,” he says sadly. you laugh and kiss his cheek. “come home early and we can go to more cookouts together.”

[chevxyn]

along the lines. — with chigiri hyoma.

syp; as a couple of soccer boys mocked him due to his acl tore, you came to protect him.

sfw, depiction of growing puppy love (chigiri)

you played with your gameboy on the bench waiting for your cousin to finish his training as he dragged you along, when you saw another kid that’s just standing there— watching them.

at first you didn’t think much of it, while he does seem a little familiar— maybe he was just waiting like you, for a friend; a cousin, or anything.

he had a bandage wrapped around his right leg— holding onto his crutches; his face held a visible gaze of regret and you would just tilt your head as you went back to play.

after their training took a break, your cousin was talking with his friends as you noticed the boy was approached by two other players.

seeing that, you just assumed that’s the ones he’s waiting on— until they started to laugh at him and his face was visibly uncomfortable.

looking back at your brother that seems to be busy, you stood up— putting your console to the bench and went to them.

“oi, two guys with the questionable eyebrows.” you called, standing next to the red haired boy and the three of them stopped, as the twins looked at you and looked offended.

the guy on the right, with the small eyebrows laughed, “and who do you think you are? you’re [cousin’s name]’s little cousin right? we’re older than you, show some respect.”

“you act more like a kid than i do.” you simply said, “infact, maybe you should learn a little respect rather than i do cause you’re mocking a guy that’s clearly injured.”

when you took another glance at the red haired boy, that’s when you remember that face— the guy from the news, the fast guy.

“you don’t know anything.” the small eyebrow-ed brother said, “i know that you’re probably petty cause he’s better than you.” you said, mentioning the boy next to you.

as you said that, the red haired boy’s eyes glistened with admiration for a second before his eyes went back normal; he doesn’t even know you and vice versa.

“yeah right like—“ before they could speak, you cut them off first; “like the fact that he’s faster? gets more attention? or maybe before his injury he was so good that he made your egos hurt?”

hearing that, they went silent before the crocodile eyebrows frowned and told his brother to leave with him— as the two of them left you rolled your eyes.

you’ll probably hear this from your cousin later, but you looked to the guy next to you and he was just standing there looking at you.

“uh,” you were about to go back when the voice finally escaped his mouth, “thank you.” it was soft, and barely hearable but you made it out.

you looked at him and gave a smile; “no worries, i hate those type of people anyways,” you said, “uh, are you okay?” you finally asked and he nodded.

not knowing what else to say, after a moment of silence and with the fact that it has suddenly become uncomfortable— you looked back to the bench and blinked, “do you wanna come with me and play a game?”

hearing that— he slightly moved his head in a nod, he won’t lie to admit that he did glanced at you a couple of times from where he was standing as you were in the bench playing the console.

so hearing his agreement, you helped him up to the bleachers; as he sat next beside you, “that must’ve hurt.” you said regarding his injury on the knee.

he lets another small nod out, putting his crutches down and upon seeing his discomfort you immediately apologized— “sorry.” his face changed as you said that and he spoke, “it’s okay.”

he was not sure why he was a little flushed while talking to you, it’s either cause you protected him from the wanima brothers; or the fact that you were cool while doing it— or maybe both? he doesn’t know.

you lended him the console, and he reluctantly played with it and as he would fail the first couple of levels; you helped him with it— and during those times, a couple of chuckles escaped from his mouth.

as the day went by quicker due the two of you bonding, you couldn’t notice when your cousin called you— “[name]! come on, we gotta go homee!”

hearing that, you let a small frown and looked at the boy that introduced himself earlier as chigiri hyoma, “sorry hyo,” you said and he let a small ‘hm’ out of his mouth, a little sad that you’re leaving but you smiled at him.

“we can meet more! i’ll tell [cousin name] i wanna come here and who knows, maybe we’ll meet again if you’re here.” hearing that, chigiri nodded, “okay [last name], thank you for everything.”

chigiri didn’t even realize it has been that long he was here, he was supposed to just watch the match after he felt the need to come back— he almost refused but he was glad he listened to his thoughts.

or else he wouldn’t even had met you, and so as you parted your ways— your cousin looked at you, “heheh, you and him were close.” your cousin giggled and pushed you by your side.

“oh shut up, can’t someone be friends with another now?” you grunted and he chuckled, “uhuh—“ you rolled your eyes, “besides, we’re still little, i doubt we’ll be anything more than friends anyways.”

yeah right.

back to collection.

©chevxyn

im gonna be extra busy tmrw, so idk if i can update gang </3 pray for the best ig 😔

[sbaren]

Nerdjo x BlackFem!Reader

CW: nsfw,Masturbation (male), all characters are 18+

You never made a real effort with him, he was just easy to mess with. The kind of guy who never smiled in class, who flinched when someone brushed past him in the hallway, who barely answered when you talked to him, and never looked you in the eye. Gojo Satoru was all bad posture, ugly hoodies, and headphones glued to his ears.

Sometimes you sat a little too close when the room was full, asked him for a pen when you clearly had three. Lean over his notes and make dumb jokes about the shows he watched just to see that awkward pause before he pushed his glasses up his nose and muttered something snarky under his breath.

He wasn’t mean, not exactly. Always sharp like you were a distraction he couldn’t afford, and also couldn’t fully ignore. You weren’t even that interested it was just… funny, something about how flustered he got when you tapped his shoulder and acted like it was the first time you’d ever met.

He made it too easy.

Gojo swore to his only two friends Geto and Shoko that he hated you. Which wasn’t completely false, just very far from the truth.

He hated the way you yelled "Satoruuuu" in front of everyone, dragging it out with a fake pout. He hated how you always showed up with a new hairstyle like a wig braids or different looks like you were switching personalities just to get under his skin. But what he hated the most was how his dick twitched in his pants every time you leaned a little too close to tease him about his interests.

"Wait—Digimon? Isn’t that like Pokémon’s weird little cousin you’re always talking about?"

He wanted to throw you out the window, but damn he couldn’t stop looking at your glossed-up mouth.

When Gojo got home that day, he ran straight upstairs without even saying hi to his parents. He locked himself in his room, breath short and took down the corkboard nailed to the wall. The front looked normal. An organized mess of colorful post-its, scribbled class notes, study schedules, and random anime stickers.

But the side pressed against the wall, was what really mattered.

Photos of you.

Some taken from your Insta, which Gojo stalked secretly through Shoko’s phone, never daring to add you himself. Others were selfies you’d taken jokingly with his phone during study sessions. Pics you thought you’d deleted… but he had saved and printed them.

Gojo pulled down his pants and boxers all at once, freeing his dick, already painfully hard, precum glistening along its thick vein. His hand grabbed it immediately, trembling, almost angry like he blamed his own body for reacting to you like this.

"She probably moans so pretty… I just know she’d be loud as fuck—huhh, fuck."

He shut his eyes. Your face burned behind his lids, soft around the edges but vivid where it mattered: your gloss, your smug little laugh, the way your skirt always hiked up just enough to make him ache.

Gojo started stroking slowly, palm burning hot against his skin, the wet sound of his hand filling the silent room. Each movement drew a low, broken sound from his throat.

He gripped himself tighter and pictured himself between your thighs, your gloss smudged on his chest, your voice humming his name like a joke "Satoruu~". His pace quickened, wrist tight, breath uneven, veins bulging down his arm as his hips betrayed him.

"Always acting so innocent… bet you’d let me fuck that attitude right outta you."

His stomach clenched hard, a sharp spasm that rocked through his whole body. And he came in hot thick ropes that splattered across his shirt—already sticking to his sweaty skin, his stomach, and the hand still wrapped around his cock.

The first shot hit high, landing on his chest. The second dripped slower, creamy and heavy, coating his long fingers and sliding down his swollen veins. It dripped from his hand, warm and sticky, trailing down to his tense thighs.

The silence after was brutal. Awkward. His heartbeat too loud. His eyes drifted toward his phone screen just as it lit up with a notification.

"Hey Satoruu, you free Friday night? Thought I could come over to your place for yk… help with that homework Mr. Nanami gave me."

He grinned like an idiot. Poor thing had no idea you were just trying to win a stupid bet, the one where you had to fuck him.

1/2

© 2025 sbaren - All rights reserved. Please do not copy or repost this work without permission. Feel free to share the link and credit me @sbaren!

[vicolette]

𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, written on a phone🥀, not proofread.

"Ryan, is that you?"

It has been a huge trend all over social media, where a video had gone viral of Lamine taking pictures of a group of girls when he then was asked what his name was. Although his original hair type is brown, he didn't beat the dumb blonde stereotypes as he instead said 'Ryan', just to not be bombarded with questions and be taken photos of.

The video even went so popular, that fans claim it would be elite ball knowledge within a few years. Plus, his teammates and coaches have also called him that, so he could technically claim it as his second name – or third name, since he already had a second name.

So, when he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice of a young woman, Lamine turned around in confusion and had thought that she meant him as the lady rushed to get closer and struggled to catch his breath.

Dare he say that it was a beautiful woman.

As you stood in front of him and tried to calm your racing heartbeat down, you came face to face with a professional footballer, who you immediately recognized within one glance. Lamine Yamal – FC Barcelona's starboy and Spain's jewel.

"Uh, so, like..." Firstly wiping the dirt off of your pants, you stood straight and looked around in search for something, which only served to confuse Lamine and his two other companions, namely his little brother, Kenye, and his cousin, houda. "Ryan?"

"Yeah?" Silence stretched over as you stared at him in confusion, then furrowed your eyebrows and wondered what he meant by that.

"You're not Ryan."

"I-" At that exact moment, he felt Houda pinch him by his side and his little brother giggle, just now realizing his mistake as Lamine awkwardly giggled to ease the situation up. "Nah, sorry about that. I'm not Ryan."

"I can see that." You remarked with a sarcastic roll of your eyes, shaking your head as a sigh escaped from your lips and then became serious again. Since there was at least a girl bear, you decided to trust these two... not so useful boys. "Have you seen a little guy, around four years old, running around?"

"Yeah, I think." Houda pondered in which direction a little guy had run off to, only for Lamine to give her an odd expression and claim that there had been no boy running around. After a little bit of arguing and listening to you describe his looks, which was easy as this 'Ryan' was your little brother, Houda turned her head to look around, only to see the two of you and nobody else familiar. "Uhm, where's Kenye?"

In an instant, Lamine froze on spot and worriedly looked around like a madman, screaming the name out loud in the middle of a park. Houda was quick to silence him, already earning some concerned stares from strangers, and decided to team up with you in order to find the two boys, splitting into two 'groups' with you being forced to stay with the athlete.

Houda went to the opposite direction as you two, with you trying to remain calm and also help Lamine stay focused and not call his mother to ask for forgiveness, since he had said that she would kill him a thousand of times, at minimum. "Alright, so, where do you think they are?"

"Isn't there an ice cream shop? We can look there!" Lamine proudly expressed, whereas you were about to tell him that there was one in the direction that Houda went to, until he grabbed you by your wrist. Dragging you around and round about, you two very clearly did not find them, even being so bad in finding ways that you ended up at the spot where you had first met. "Well, would you look at that? Where we had met..."

"Wow, real helpful." Your tone of voice hinted at both frustration and amusement, which somehow wasn't enough to shut him up. In the contrast, Lamine took it as a sign to blabber like a tiny boy.

"But, hey, I think I'm still missing something." Just as you were about to correct him that Kenye was not a 'something', but a 'someone', Lamine rolled his eyes at your nerdy tactics. "And I don't mean Kenye, y'know."

"Then what do you mean?"

The teenager smirked as he turned a 180° and became the usual cocky self as the media potrayed him, your question amusing him while he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. "Your number-"

"Guys!" Houda yelled out as he approached you two with a big smile on her face, only for it to slowly vanish as she saw the scene of you standing a bit too close. While you seemed truly enthusiatic and instantly ran up to Ryan, engulfing him into a tight hug, Lamine was visibly unbothered, having wished that he had at the very least gotten your number.

Houda stood by as she watched you hold Ryan up in your arms, who was just barely awake and was about to fall into a deep slumber. The sight made Lamine also hold his little brother up, watching as Kenye ranted some nonsense and called him 'tete' the whole time.

At the end, you three decided to go to the playground, where the toddlers had been, and realized that it was directly next to the ice cream shop. While you gave he a confident look, Lamine realized that it hadn't been too far away from the spot and could only stare at Kenye with a disapproving look.

"I thought I taught you how to run faster?"

– A/N : I can't use my iPad rn so get used to this if I'm with my cousins.

[justbegeorge]

Realizing I might be the only person in my mostly extended family to not get married let’s gooooooo

[fairylando]

okay ngl rn... i can finally see why some of you say that kimi is thee rosquez child...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Do you think if i think loud enough charles xavier will show up in my room like do you think that could happen

[send-me-a-puffalope]

BLESS UP!!! GUESS WHO GOT ACCEPTED INTO THEIR SAFETY SCHOOL!!!!!

[hana-bobo-finch]

wonderful dream I had last night

very odd considering I didn’t really know who spamton was before, I just saw him in my dream and woke up immediately knowing his name but I am spamton number one fan now (I know nothing about him)

[lloydfrontera]

i think about this version of them a normal amount i promise