#and the fact that she's trying to find him to deliver a message from her dead mother. and it all ends with her father dead too. fuck

[v-iv-rusty]

if I had a nickel for every time a character I really liked died on the shore of a huge underground lake, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's kind of weird that it's happened twice

[esleep]

i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).

shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.

i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.

when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.

anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.

[kaeyachi]

some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 4

authors note: thank you so much to all of ya'll showing interest in this little au 🥺🥺🥺 ya'll are the real mvp's.

masterlist

words: 4.5k // warnings: some smut, roman being possessive/borderline stalkerish

Solana is clearly naive.

Embarrassingly so, because for her to just assume she could dip out on Roman Reigns without there being any sort of consequence or him wanting to follow up was simply ludicrous.

It’s ludicrous and simply not going to fly for the Head of the Table, hence Solana’s current situation. Standing at the back of her store trying to convince Sami Zayn to deliver her very clear, unmistakable message to Roman who’s apparently waiting out back for her.

“Sami, I’m sorry you’re in….in the middle of this, but I—I don’t want to see Roman.” There’s a strange, borderline uncomfortable feeling that rises, even as the words leave her mouth. Solana knows that’s what she needs to say and should say, but there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to say it.

But, then she thinks back to Rosalia’s cruel words, hurtful but true. And it’s the reminder she needs. She swallows, reiterating, “please tell him I’m not interested.”

And while these may be words spoken from a sudden sense of finality, they seem to be more of a death sentence to the man before her. Sami’s face is growing red and ruddy by the minute. “Oh boy.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand through his still unkempt hair. “Ms. Miller—”

She gives him a small smile. “You can call me Solana.”

“I can’t call you anything if I’m dead.” Her eyes go wide, and he winces, apologizing. “I’m sorry. I just—I’ve been working hard to work my way up in the Bloodline and telling the Tribal Chief no….well, that sure seems like a good way to get my ass chewed up and spit out….or worse.”

A deep frown settles on Solana’s face as she nervously taps her fingers against the side of her legs. The last thing she wants is for Roman to take his anger at her ‘rejection’ out on Sami. She’s not worth that. 

At all.

Gasping quietly, she shares, “I have an idea.” She motions for him to follow her, Solana guiding them to her office in the back. Grabbing a pen and the notebook on her desk, she quickly gets to writing, not allowing herself to think too much. That’ll only cause her to second guess her decision, when she really can’t afford to do so. 

Roman,

I’m sorry for leaving abruptly, but that shouldn’t have happened. We’re two very different people. I’m not what you’re looking for. Let’s just end this now before it gets too far.

Sorry for wasting your time.

Solana

She doesn’t even give herself the chance to look it over, ripping it from the notebook, folding it over and handing it to Sami. “Just give him this.”

Sami looks down at the piece of paper like it may contain anthrax. He then sighs, heavily, accepting it from her. “Alrighty then.”

Grateful for his amenable nature, she offers a small smile of appreciation. “Thank you, Sami.”

He says nothing, just walks out without another word to deliver the message that will, hopefully, close up this strange, unexpected, brief chapter of her life involving a certain Roman Reigns.

Never mind the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach making Solana wonder if she’s made a mistake. 

But, she quickly pushes it away. The silly thing. Of course, she made the right decision. There’s no place in her life for someone like Roman Reigns.

It’s just better this way.

—--------

In recent months, it’s happened more often than not that Solana finds she has the condo she shares with two of her best friends, Rhea and Kayden, to herself. 

Just Solana and her 8 month old puppy, Dulce.

Tonight happens to be one of those nights. 

And she’s grateful. Because while Rhea still remains oblivious to Solana’s…..experiences with Roman, Kayden is aware and skeptical of Solana’s made up story about the evening not going well, hence her coming home early last night. It would be a believable story, especially considering this is Roman, but not for the fact that Solana sucks at lying and Kayden is a truth seeker through and through.

So having a night off of having to dodge her sly attempts to coax out the truth is appreciated.

Very much so.

Kayden is spending the night over at her latest fuck buddy's, and Rhea…..well, Solana doesn’t exactly know why Rhea has been coming home either at an ungodly hour or not until sunrise the next day. It’s sort of out of character for her normally antisocial friend, but Solana also knows that Rhea is the person who will open up about things when she’s ready, so she's just left it alone. 

But them being gone leaves Solana and Dulce with the condo to themselves. Hence her taking the opportunity to truly decompress from an eventful, stressful week. After her ‘everything’ shower, she puts her hair in space buns and pulls out the skimpy shirt and underwear set gifted to her by Rhea last Christmas. It’s not something Solana would ever wear in front of anyone, somewhat because of the emo design but mostly because it’s so revealing. A thong and barely there tee.

It’s also an intentional thing, walking around so exposed, more skin on display than usual. Something to aid in building back up her body confidence that was almost entirely squashed under the overwhelming weight of those infamous text messages.

Solana does her best not to revisit those dark times, arguably one of the hardest periods of her life. She can’t go back. Has come too far and made too much progress to regress. Even more, he isn’t worth it.

Never was.

Filling her Stanley cup up—a gift from her bougie ass cousin Jade—with ice, Solana grabs a water bottle and empties it, topping the icy water with two lemon packets. Tossing the used packets in the trash, she grabs her phone and ventures through her many Spotify playlists, settling on the R&B one. Turning on her Beats headphones, she slides them over her ears, smiling at the opening notes of Fantasy by Mariah Carey.

Walking out the kitchen, phone in one hand, Stanley cup in the other, she hits the lights and hums along to one of Mariah’s many bangers. Her smile grows and hips naturally move to the rhythmic, infectious beat as she hits the light switch in her bedroom, walking over to her nightstand where she deposits her cup.

Shuffling over to her attached bathroom, she flicks the switch and goes to put away some of the products used during her hour spent in there for the shower and everything after. Cleaning and Mariah end up being the perfect combination, Solana’s singing and dancing increasing and evolving into a brief, silly little moment of her using her hairbrush as a microphone. A nice, little nostalgic throwback to so many summers ago that she spent with her cousins, staying up much later than what they should have, giggling over trivial things like boy bands and school gossip.

Much simpler times.

Before she grew up and realized that maybe the idea of men—and love—would always be better than the reality. At least, for her.

Pleased with the clean state of her bathroom, Solana turns off the lights and dances and sways her shapely hips while sauntering back into her bedroom. 

“I’m in heaven. With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend. There’s no beginning, and there is no—AHH!”

Eyes wide, hand against her chest, Solana is rendered speechless and barely avoids a heart attack at the sight that awaits her.

Roman.

In her home.

In her bedroom.

Sitting on the chair by her vanity, Dulce in her bed just a few feet away, sleeping like everything is fine. Like there’s not a complete stranger in her room. 

Her brother and dad were definitely right about one thing. Dulce is for comfort. Not protection.

Solana just continues to stare, in a brief state of shock while Roman simply states with a smirk.

“Don’t stop on my account, baby.” Oh my God. “I was enjoying the hell out of that show.” His light brown eyes travel over her body, as she rips off her headphones. “Very, very much.”

It’s that statement that reminds her of her attire. Or lack, thereof. A humongous wave of embarrassment and borderline humiliation wash over her as she reaches for her robe on the bed, hurriedly putting it on and tossing the headphones down on the mattress.

Roman chuckles at the action, standing up from the chair, reorienting Solana to the situation. The potential severity of the situation. 

“Roman, what are you—how did you—” She has so many questions. A ton. A million. But, the first one is how. “How did you get in—I –made sure the doors were all l–locked.”

He stops halfway, scoffing, “sweetheart, you can’t be that naive. Locked doors don’t do shit. Especially not for someone like me.” A sort of frown then falls on his face as he shares, “you really should have a security system. I’ll have one put in tomorrow.”

Solana can barely process him telling her that he’s getting a security system installed in her home, because he’s back moving toward her, a small slice of panic forming. 

Moving back against the closest wall, she cautions in the least intimidating voice ever. “I–I’ll scream.”

Again, he pauses, that wicked smile reappearing. “Oh, I am going to make you scream, but it won’t be out of fear.” Solana’s stomach flutters, but she can’t tell if it’s because of his suggestive comment or just the asinine nature of this entire situation. 

And, it’s when he’s directly in front of her, one hand planted on the wall above her that she finds it in her to ask, “Roman, what—what are you doing here?”

In her house. In her room. In her life. She’ll take an answer for any of them at this point. 

Meanwhile, he simply responds like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Solana wouldn’t call it avoidance as much as she would call it trying to pretend he doesn’t exist and what happened between them never occurred.

Tried to play all of that off as some bad dream. Or maybe just a dream, because nothing about how he made her feel back in that locker room could ever be even remotely close to bad.

But, she can’t tell him that.

Of course not.

So, she does the possible worst thing someone could do in this situation. 

She lies.

Sidenote: Solana hates that he’s so close to her for a plethora of reasons, the major one being that he’s close enough to touch her. A dangerous, dangerous thing. It's.....distracting

“I—I haven’t.”

Roman makes a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ sound. “Lying to me never turns out well for people, but you’re pretty, so I’ll give you a pass. This time.” She swallows, practically unable to stop their locked gaze. “Why?”

She didn’t realize the first statement was actually a question, but that’s irrelevant now. “I—I told you. I—” She blows out a breath. “What happened was—was a mistake.”

“Bullshit,” he’s calling her bluff. “You don’t believe that.”

Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t. But, there’s nothing confusing or conflicting about her next statement. “I’m not—I’m not like that, Roman. I don’t…..sleep around. I—” Solana has to stop herself. The last thing she needs to be telling this man is that she’s still a virgin. Something tells her it’ll up the ante. “My fiancé or—”

He cuts her off, asking, “are you still engaged?”

That might be the easiest thing he’s ever asked her. “No.”

“Good.” He shrugs, adding casually while shrugging one shoulder. “Wouldn’t have made a difference. I would have just killed him anyway.”

Horrified. Solana should be horrified by that chilly statement. No doubt something he would 100% do. Men like Roman have no moral compass. They live by their own primal, selfish wants without regard for others. And yet, something within Solana, that might not be too far off from Roman’s lack of morality, causes her to mutter, “I–I should probably be more disturbed by that.”

Roman’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“No.” That’s also an easy answer. Well. Sort of. “But—”

“But?”

She shouldn’t say it. Absolutely should not say it, and yet, something dark within her makes it creep out, sneaks it past her inner morality police. “If you had asked me a couple months ago, I might have given you a different answer.”

Awful. It’s an awful thing to say about another human being....even if that human being is a piece of scum.

Finding out the truth about her relationship, finding out the facade of her relationship nearly broke her. Solana's heart was shattered into a thousand pieces that she’s still working to regroup. She’s far from where she was when her world fell apart but is still not exactly who she was prior to the ruination.

She’s not sure she’ll ever be. 

Meanwhile, Roman makes a sound, sharing, “maybe I’ll kill him anyway.”

And this is why Solana didn’t want to say anything. Because it’s like dangling candy in front of a kid. Still, what motive would he have? 

Solana is partially confused and needs to not think about his touch, thus her going for a relevant distraction. “For what reason?”

With a dark chuckle, he traces random patterns against the belt of her robe. “He obviously hurt you. That’s reason enough for me.”

Solana frowns. This man makes no sense. No sense whatsoever. 

Her voice is low, heavily weighed down by confusion and something else she can’t identify. “Roman, what—what do you want from me?”

“A lot.” Her stomach is knotting all over again. That is not the answer she was expecting. “But, let’s start with why you left.”

“I told you—”

“The truth, Solana.” His voice goes hard as does his expression. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

She believes it. 

Swallowing, she realizes the truth is something that he’s going to get one way or another. Might as well concede now.. “Your…..your sister—”

He briefly looks away, muttering something in a language she doesn’t recognize. His gaze is then back on her. “What did she say?”

“Nothing nice.” It’s not the specifics, but it is an answer. A truthful answer, just like the next part of her statement. “But—but, she wasn’t wrong either.” Solana shakes her head, once again reiterating, “if–if you’re looking for an easy lay, then—”

“Solana, I can get that anywhere and with anyone. Respectfully, if that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you.” 

She believes it. Because it makes sense. There’s no shortage of women who would gladly give Roman whatever he wants, however he wants it, and whenever he wants it. And yet, he’s here with her….for what?

It’s a question she finds herself verbalizing. 

“Why—why are you here then?”

Roman just looks at her, his eyes twinkling with desire. And right there, Solana knows she should have gone with the scream. 

The scream of fear.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you…..” His volume lowers, but Solana is too caught up on what he said versus how he said it. “How good you smell, how good you look….” She closes her eyes the minute he dips his head, Solana unconsciously grasping his shirt. “How good you tasted.” She releases a shaky breath that matches the light tremble of her thighs when he asks, “you been thinking about me?”

Yes. Far too much. An embarrassing amount. “N–no.”

Roman’s deep voice hums against her ear, like he can hear her betraying thoughts.. “Hmmm. I don’t think that’s true.” 

Solana should stop him the minute his hand starts to mess with the knot of her belt. Should push his hand away or offer a verbal protest instead of just standing there, letting the robe fall open, revealing herself to him. 

She opens her eyes just in time to see Roman soaking her in, eyes slowly and gradually going over her body the same way he’s done the past few times. 

“You wanna know what I think?” She’s so thankful he doesn’t wait for a response, cause he’d be waiting for a minute. It seems Mr. Roman Reigns is a voice snatcher, especially when his hand moves to her belly of all places, tip of his finger moving across her pudge. “I think you left because you liked it.”

Oh my God. 

Solana’s head falls back against the wall behind her, her hand flattening against his abs. 

Roman continues to taunt her and call her bluff. “You liked the way daddy made you feel.” She goes to grab his wrist the minute his hand dips inside her underwear. “The same way I’m making you feel now, huh?”

He’s not lying. Even if she wanted it to be a lie, the truth is unavoidable and inescapable, right there, real and tangible as he grazes his fingers over her lips. 

Soaked. 

Of course. 

“What you need to understand, baby, is that daddy can do this cat and mouse shit all day.” Roman’s words are accompanied by him moving his hand to slide her panties to the side as he slips one of those deliciously long, thick fingers inside of her, making her arch against him. “I always get what I want, and I want you.” She chews on her bottom lip as he enters another finger, her walls contracting around him. Roman groans, “that lil' dick fiancé of yours certainly wasn’t fucking you right cause this pussy way too tight.”

Roman practically growls, moving his other hand from the wall to lift her left leg, widening it, giving him more access to her, his reach inside of her deepening. “Look at how you’re gripping my fingers right now. This cunt needs me.” This new depth has her eyes watering as he thrusts his fingers inside of her, while his thumb flicks at her clit. “Got you this wet from barely doing anything, and you really want me to believe you ain’t been thinking about me?”

Rhetorical. It’s gotta be rhetorical. He can’t honestly expect her to say or respond to anything in a logical manner with how he’s making her feel right now. Overwhelmed. In a good way. A majestic, glorious way.

Solana goes to grip his arm, her fingers unable to touch. He’s so built. “Roman….”

“You said you don’t sleep around, and that’s okay, cause when it's all said and done, you still won't be sleeping around, because the only one who's allowed to touch you from now on is me." She whimpers, that familiar feeling from that night in his locker room coming over her all over again. Her thighs are practically jelly, those tears finally leaving the confines of her eyes. “This tight little pussy is mine.”

That one sentence, possessive and controlling, should not be the thing that sends her over the edge. That has her gripping onto him as her orgasm rips through her body, that has stars shooting behind her closed eyelids. But, that’s exactly the case. Roman has to practically keep her upright as he watches her come all over his hand.

His lips ghost over the outline of her jaw. “I could never get tired of watching you come.” But the minute he pulls his fingers out of her used, puffy vagina, and Solana opens her eyes to see him licking them clean, she nearly comes all over again.

This man is going to ruin her.

He uses that same hand, damp fingers going under her chin to lift her head, making her look at him.

“You ran because it freaks you out that you’re interested in me the same way I’m interested in you.” And before she can even begin to sit on that, he throws her for another loop. “I’m not gon’ make you do anything you don’t wanna do, but just know this, you will want it before it’s all said and done.” 

Solana swallows, completely wordless and wholly stunned at just how the hell this happened yet again. He says a couple things, gives her a few touches, and she spreads her legs without second thought. Like her vagina has its own mind and thought process, completely uninterested in whatever logic may be going on upstairs in her brain.

She’s (her pussy) just trying to get hers, and Roman just happens to be very…..very good at that. 

Unfortunately.

“Now let’s try this again.” Roman slides his arm through the back of her robe to pull her closer against him. Her hand moving up his abs to his chest seems to elicit the slightest hiss from him. A reaction that has her both confused and excited. “I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”

Her eyes widen. He’s asking her. Giving her a choice. Not a demand. And while it should feel good to some extent. Nice to have some autonomy. It’s still…

The answer is obvious. The same reason she ran out that night. The same reason she gave him that letter. Roman is not the type of man she needs to be messing around with. He’s dangerous. Beyond dangerous. Unpredictable. Older. She could probably create a generous list of reasons to tell him no. To take this 'out' he’s giving her.

And yet……

She’s briefly pulled from her thoughts when he brings his hand to her face, cupping her cheek. His expression is soft, such a marked contrast for everything about him that’s so hard and dark. “I just want to get to know you, La'u Ma'asoama.”

She hasn’t the slightest clue what he just said, but everything about it from the delivery to the almost pleading tone of his deep voice does absolutely nothing to help her resolve.

Solana’s voice is light. “J–just dinner?”

He nods. “Just dinner. I promise to not touch you.” Roman smirks, finger tracing the outline of her lips. “Unless you want me to.”

She closes her eyes. That’s the last thing that needs to happen. She needs to decline, needs to return back to the days where the thought of even entertaining someone like Roman would never even cross her mind. He represents everything in her life she never wanted for herself.

And yet, it’s hard for her to think of anything alarming that's happened that would justify her saying no. Not from what she’s personally experienced with him. He’s direct, yes. Has a filthy (talented) mouth, most definitely. But, he’s yet to be rude or mean or exhibit any of the other horrible things she’s heard about him making her wonder if maybe…..just maybe, there’s more to Roman Reigns than meets the eye.

He was right about one thing.

There's definitely an interest on her part. 

“O–okay. ”She finally concedes, stomach fluttering at his smile. He’s so handsome. “But, can—can it be some place private? I—” She’s not sure how to tell this man that at her big age of 28, she’s nervous about her family finding out about…..whatever this is. Doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing her with Roman Reigns, of all people. On a date, nonetheless.

Roman, however, just scoffs. “I hate people, Solana. I especially hate being bothered when I’m busy.” That’s not surprising at all.  “And I plan to be very busy with you.” His thumb caresses the apple of her cheek. “It’ll be private.”

He needs to stop touching her so much. She’d very much like to be able to think straight with lucidity, and that’s clearly not a possibility when he’s touching her. 

“O–okay.”

“Good girl.” And he definitely needs to stop referring to her as that for……reasons. “I’ll text you the details.”

Her brows furrow. “You–you have my number?”

He shrugs like it’s an obvious thing. “Of course.”

Never mind the fact that this man has her number, something she’s always prided herself on in only allowing those close to her have such close contact. It's besides the point, because she has another pressing question. “So—why didn’t you just….call or–or something instead of…..” She doesn’t know why she has a hard time finishing her sentence. Calling him out, in a sense, on literally breaking and entering into her house.

Cause that’s exactly what he did.

And yet, she’s still standing here, entertaining him when she should have just called the police or something. Not that that would make a difference. It’s a known fact that the Bloodline has practically the whole state of Florida on payroll. Police departments included.

Roman shakes his head. “A phone call doesn’t let me see this pretty face.” Her breathing is once again interrupted when he flits his thumb across her lips, separating them ever so lightly. “Or touch you….”

Lord.

He smiles at her poorly hidden reaction to such a touch, dropping his hand. “And don’t worry about Rosalia. I’ll take care of her.” If she wasn’t his actual freaking sister, Solana might be a bit fearful of what the ‘take care’ means. 

The Bloodline may be ruthless, but they don’t play about family. Going after blood is strictly prohibited outside of the most extreme cases. And Roman’s sister essentially calling her a whore is far from extreme.

“One more thing.” Solana gasps when he suddenly turns her around and tugs off her robe, the soft plush falling to the ground, leaving her exposed yet again in front of this man. 

“R–Roman!” Before she can try to cover herself, Roma tugs her close, her back pressed up against his front. Solana refuses to acknowledge the hardness pushing into her back. 

He then drops his mouth by her ear again, murmuring, “you don’t ever have to be insecure around me.” Roman moves his big hands over her thick thunder thighs. “These gon’ keep my face when I’m eating.” He steps back just enough to palm her ass, sharing, “I’m gonna love seeing the recoil of all this ass you got when I’m fucking you from behind.” More movement to the front and upward, Roman palming her breast through her flimsy top. “Can’t wait to feel all up on these big titties while watching you ride my dick.” And finally, he dops both hands to her belly, gathering her rolls. “And this……It’s all you, so I fuckin love it.”

She’s beyond grateful he doesn’t let those big, talented hands travel to the space between her legs, because it’s just plain embarrassing how he’s got her pussy throbbing and wet all over again from some not so innocent touches.

Roman Reigns is clearly no good for her. 

And yet, the slightest frown appears on her face when he releases her, stepping back, eyes quickly snapping back up from her ass as she turns around.

His smile is smug and borderline arrogant. Or maybe knowing. Because arrogance implies a greater sense of importance that doesn’t match actual abilities. And Roman most certainly has some sinfully delightful abilities. 

Their gazes are locked as he murmurs, “Goodnight, Solana.” She licks her lips, ready to return the parting term when he simply walks past her and out the door, closing it behind him.

It’s only then that she leans back against the wall, hands to her face, trying to process just what the hell just happened.

Because, truly, what the hell just happened?

[iibonniee]

Self Care

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving),

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: After almost what feels like weeks of non-stop studying and taking finals, Y/N finally decides to invest in what everyone calls "self-care”. Little did she know her dearest best friend would show her his idea of self care.

Masterlist

The only thing that sat heavily on her mind was self-care. After weeks of almost back-to-back studying for finals, she knew she’d probably fail from procrastination alone; her body felt great, melting into her pleasantly soft couch. She knew she would need to get up if she wanted to do something of that nature called self-care. Still, the sofa had been calling her name after she blew it off one too many times in favor of her office chair and a dim light that hardly helped her focus on the text from the books.

After the finals, she enjoyed some time with friends, laughing about “how easy that final was.” She, of course, lied straight through her teeth to fit in with her laughing and slightly intoxicated friends. That final was absolute hell, and if she could, she’d totally find the professor’s house and tell them they should quit their jobs simply because what the fuck? Never mind the fact that she blew off all her friends in favor of studying.

Her lips pursed, remembering how her dearest friend Minhyuk had messaged her just hours ago. Instead of responding, she simply swiped the notification away for the fifth time that day. What could she say? Those finals tore through her, and now the simple fact of being around any single person deeply disturbed her. But thinking about practically blowing the man off, even with a schedule more packed than her, made her feel slightly terrible.

Her predicament was this: she was sitting – laying – very comfortably while her phone was peacefully resting on the coffee table just inches from her. She could, in theory, simply reach out for the phone and message him back. Surely, he would only lay into her a bit because “Best friends don’t leave each other on delivered for more than an hour. You know I break the rules just to message you back.”

Scratch that; he totally would lay into her.

The puff she let out was more than audible, and she swore the creaking in her bones was just as loud. Studying with work should be considered a sport. Her phone was cool to the touch, and as she had guessed, the male in question had sent her just about 5 messages for almost every single hour that had passed.

Reading his messages over, she couldn’t help but laugh loudly, thinking about the main vocalist tripping. At how she knew he’d tear the duo a new one just for bringing it up almost every couple minutes, thinking it was the funniest thing to date. The guilt was starting to eat at her for simply ignoring him.

09:16 a.m.: Y/N: wish me luck on my final 🤞 professor choi said it would be difficult as hell (not his exact words, but he was basically saying just that), so if i don’t ace this, blame my procrastination

09:17 a.m.: Minhyuk:  i can just picture your face now, sweating and pulling that super weird and questionable face you do whenever you’re thinking too hard 😂

10:46 a.m.: Minhyuk: i purposely waited more than an hour. how did you do?

11:28 a.m.:  Minhyuk: did you procrastinate so hard you died?

12.33 p.m.: Minhyuk: kihyun tripped down the stairs. me and hyungwon thought it was hilarious. imagine you messaged me back, and you could be laughing about it instead of me and him. you should be jealous of hyungwon

2:40 p.m. Minhyuk: earth to y/n?? i’m missing you! this is important

5:32 p.m. Minhyuk: i can’t believe procrastination took my best friend like this

The time was just shy of 8. She knew if he checked, he’d see she had read his messages and begin to think of a well-worded 5 paragraph essay as to why what she did was absolutely fucking rude. Deciding that rather than dealing with the bullet, she would try to avoid it.

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: don’t hate me…

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: i may have gotten dragged out with some friends from class to get “celebratory drinks”. believe me, i was going to message you back 🤗

She watched the message go from “delivered” to read in seconds. Her heart felt like a drum against her ribcage. Her eyes were glued to the screen like fresh glue. Like a child ready for her parents scolding, she waited with bated breath for his reply. The silence that stretched on was suffocating, the seconds ticking by like hours in her mind. She mentally composed a hundred excuses, each more dramatic and apologetic than the last, the nails of her free hand digging into the palm as she braced herself for the inevitable.

7:58 p.m.:  Minhyuk: dragged out, huh? guess those drinks were more important than letting me know you’re alive

The words stung like salt on an open wound, a sharp contrast to his usual playful banter. She could practically hear his voice in the text, tinged with annoyance that didn’t quite mask the concern behind it. She cursed at her screen, mentally chastising herself for her thoughtlessness.

7:58 p.m.:  Y/N: i’m so sorry minhyuk, today was a mess and i lost track of time. i didn’t mean to worry you or be rude

Her fingers hesitated over the send button before she finally pressed it, releasing a sigh that did nothing to ease the tension from her shoulders. She dared not to look away from the conversation, the panic turning her stomach into knots.

The dots appeared and disappeared, a sure sign he was typing, re-typing, his response proving he too was unsure of what to say. The wait was agonizing, her anticipation painted with shades of regret and anxiety. It was the kind of suspense that could only come from caring too much about someone’s opinion, about someone’s feelings.

8:00 p.m.:  Minhyuk: you’re lucky i care enough not to stay mad at you. don’t do this again y/n, it’s not just me, okay? we all worry.

Reading his response, a mixture of relief and guilt washed over her. Relief that he hadn’t completely unleashed his frustration on her, and guilt that she had caused him to worry in the first place. The knots in her stomach began to loosen, albeit slowly, as a crescent of gratitude rose amid the chaos of her emotions. 

8:00 p.m.:  Minhyuk: how did you do on the test? 

8:01 p.m.: Y/N: i think i passed? if i don’t pass, i’m going to my professor’s house and bitching him out. but since it’s all done now, i’ve been thinking about giving myself some self-care

8:02 p.m.: Minhyuk: like all those stupid videos you see?

Her thumbs hovered over the phone’s keyboard, the blue light casting ghostly shadows on her fingers. She drew in a breath as if about to dive underwater, aware that admitting her struggles to Minhyuk felt akin to exposing a vulnerability she often kept veiled.

8:03 p.m.:  Y/N: yeah, something like that. finals really did a number on me. my shoulders are up to my ears in tension. could really use one of those self-care days.

She sent the message out into the void between them, a digital confession that carried more weight than the characters it was comprised of. Her phone was a lifeline, a barrier, and a bridge all at once. Her screen flickered with the indication that he was replying, and she felt her pulse escalate, the anticipation tantamount to the moments before a storm broke.

The typing indicator blinked. Then.. stopped. She couldn’t help the frown that crept onto her lips. Were her problems too trivial? Too human for the idol facade he often wore?

But then, almost teasingly, the typing resumed. Her heart danced to the rhythm of his unseen keystrokes, a delicate waltz of hope and anxiety.

8:05 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i could come over? offer you some... exclusive minhyuk-brand self-care tips.

The message was light-hearted, a classic Minhyuk approach to her distress – humor laced with the promise of comfort. She couldn’t help the small smile that broke through, even as a blush warmed her cheeks.

8:06 p.m.:  Y/N: oh? and what kind of self-care tips are those?

The faintest feeling of daring bubbled inside her. To flirt with the boundaries of their rapport seemed reckless, yet the adrenaline of it was intoxicating. Minhyuk’s reply didn’t come instantly this time, and the silence stretched just enough to fan the flames of her curiosity.

8:09 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i could make you cum. i heard that’s a great way of relaxing and relieving tension.

The heat spread across her face way too fast for her liking. She knew Minhyuk. The man was often brutal when speaking honestly. Still, behind that brutal honesty, he was often gentle, a softness that he reserved for the quieter moments between them. It was that duality that had always drawn her to him, that fine line he walked between audacity and tenderness.

Y/N stared at the screen, the words blurring as her heart hammered. Was he serious? There was no way to gauge the sincerity of his tone through text. Still, a part of her, perhaps secretly hoping for a bit more than friendly banter, conjured up a thrilling image of him following through. In front of her, eating her out to relieve her stress. She swore he had talked about it before. Something about how Hoseok helped someone out and not in a work-friendly manner. Had he meant the same way?

She was about to type a response, her fingertips shaky with a mix of nerves and anticipation, when a new message popped up.

8:12 p.m.:  Minhyuk: unless... you’re already thinking about it?

The playful tease was evident even through the digital text, and she stiffened, caught utterly off guard. Yes, she was thinking about it, but the fact that he could call her out so accurately sent a jolt through her. Her pulse raced, the mixture of embarrassment and excitement causing a delicious tension within her. She found herself at a crossroads of confusion and desire. Trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation, she decided to play along, if only to see where this would go.

8:12 p.m.:  Y/N: idk, is that what you recommend to all your friends when they’re stressed? 

Her response was nonchalant, an attempt to mirror his teasing while her mind whirred with the possibilities. She waited, breath held, for his answer, utterly unaware of how this conversation might change everything.

8:12 p.m.:  Minhyuk: no, just you. 

She could hear his voice in that message — low, teasing, and devastatingly focused — as if he were beside her. The notion sent a tremble through her body. Her phone seemed to burn her fingertips, a virtual representation of the invisible thread tugging them closer with each message sent.

8:13 p.m.:  Y/N: and what if i were thinking about it? what then?

Her heart was pounding a staccato rhythm against her ribs. Each beat seemed to echo his name. She was playing with fire, and a part of her didn’t want to stop — couldn’t stop — even if she tried.

A pause lingered, almost too long, before his following message arrived, and it had her breath hitching in anticipation.

8:15 p.m.:  Minhyuk: then i’d say we’re thinking about the same thing. i could be over in 10.

Her breath caught in a sharp inhale, a swirl of heat and butterflies erupting in her stomach. She’d known Minhyuk was bold, but this was uncharted territory. Each message was a step further into the unknown, and she wasn’t sure if her racing heart wanted him to slow down or to bridge the distance even faster.

8:16 p.m.:  Y/N: you wouldn’t dare.

It was a challenge, the kind of throwdown she’d seen in the charged space between two people in movies, the type that always led to someone’s back pressed against a wall, breaths mingling, gazes locked. She was playing her part in their little game, the script being written in real-time.

8:17 p.m.:  Minhyuk: try me.

And he added a winking emoji for good measure. A bold, ridiculous little symbol that shouldn’t have the power to increase her heart rate, but it did. It really did.

8:18 p.m.:  Y/N: …

She was lost for words; the ellipsis was all she could manage as a flurry of thoughts bombarded her, each of them an image of possibility. Her body was alight with unsaid promises, every nerve ending buzzing as if the warmth of his tease had a tangible touch. The air felt charged around her, heavy with the electric potential of ‘what if.’ Was she ready for the ‘what if’ to become reality? The next few moments would tell.

8:18 p.m.:  Minhyuk: say the word, and i’m there. i could have you cumming so hard you forget about that final. with my fingers, mouth, and cock. 

The audacity of his words sent a jolt through her, a storm of heat and shivers cascading down her spine. She read his message once, twice, thrice, each word emblazoning itself into her mind, conjuring images more vivid than any fantasy she’d dared to entertain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a dozen responses racing her mind. She knew Minhyuk, his sweet smirks, and the playful glint in his eye. But this was a new dance, where he was both the lead and the tempo, and she was swept up in the rhythm.

8:19 p.m.:  Y/N: you talk a big game. what makes you think i’d want that?

It was a deflection, a coy invitation for him to prove his point, and part of her thrilled at the boldness of her own words. All around her, the room hummed with the tension of a prelude to something momentous.

Minhyuk replied quickly, stoking the embers that danced beneath her skin.

8:19 p.m.:  Minhyuk: because i know you. because i’ve seen that look in your eyes that screams yes even when your lips are biting back the words. i’ve known you for years, y/n. i know what makes you tick. i just don’t say anything.

Her heart was soaring and plummeting all at once, caught between nerves and an exhilarating sense of inevitability. Minhyuk was as deft with his textual innuendos as he was with every other facet of their relationship — constantly pushing, always knowing just how far to go.

8:20 p.m.:  Y/N: if i say the word... do you promise to keep yours?

She was still questioning, still testing the waters, but the thrum of excitement in her blood was yielding to the magnetic pull of his promise. There was a potent sense of surrender threading through her words, a submission to the torrential desire she could no longer deny.

8:21 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i keep my promises. always. especially to you.

That was all it took. She sat, heart racing, a cacophony of longing ringing loud in the quiet of her room, and she realized she wanted the reality far more than the fantasy.

8:22 p.m.:  Y/N: come over.

Sent. 

The word lingered on the screen, heavy with implication and as momentous as crossing a threshold. As the message —come over — fades from the screen, Minhyuk feels a surge of exhilaration pulse through his veins. His heart drummed a rapid beat, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, one of anticipation and victory mixed with a raw desire he’s only ever shown to her. 

8:23 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i’ll be there in 10. get ready for me.

Sent. 

The words, simple yet laden with his intent, dart through the digital space — a promise swiftly turning into a plan of action. He grabs his keys, phone, and composure — though the last seems fragile, like a thin veneer over the tumultuous wave of want coursing through him.

Meanwhile, her palms press into the plush fabric of the couch, her breaths coming out in short, deliberate gusts. Her eyes dart to the door and then to the phone. A carousel of feelings spins within her: excitement, trepidation, desire, doubt. One moment, she feels a giddy joy bubble up from her stomach; the next, nail-biting anxiety clenches at her throat.

She gets up, paces, and sits back down. The room feels smaller, as if the walls are inching closer with each second that ticks by. Cracks of light from the fading evening stretch across the floor, painting elongated shadows that mimic her tangled emotions.

8:25 p.m.:  Y/N: okay, i’ll be waiting.

A part of her wonders at her own audacity. How easy it was to type those words, yet how profound the impact. It’s a seismic shift, an invisible line crossed, the soft click of a door unlocking — whatever it may be, their relationship won’t be the same after tonight.

She lights a candle, the flicker of the flame casting a warm glow in the living room. It’s a vain attempt at nonchalance as if to say, ‘I do this all the time,’ when, in fact, her heart’s racing like it’s her first-ever date. Her mind plays and replays the possible scenarios, each as vivid and nerve-wracking as the last. Then, she blows it out. Her mind going a mile a minute. This was probably just going to be a quick fuck session. Nothing more.

And then, as the minute hand inches obligingly towards the half-hour mark, every nerve in her body seems to stand on edge, her senses heightened to the rapid-fire staccato of her heartbeat. It is equally the most terrifying and exciting countdown.

Three heavy and loud knocks greet her once-silent apartment. The knocks seem to reverberate throughout her apartment, a thunderous declaration that shatters the quiet anticipation. She freezes, every muscle coiled with an energy akin to the electric charge of a brewing storm. The moment she’s been swinging between dread and desire is now palpable, as imminent as the next breath.

Time seems to stretch these seconds to minutes as she gathers the courage to pad across the hardwood floor. She feels every fiber in the woven rug underfoot, every whisper of the evening air that sneaks through the cracks of her haven. With each step, her heart is both a traitor and an ally, pounding against her chest in nervous fervor.

Her hand hesitates briefly at the door handle, a transitional talisman that stands between what was and what could be. The cool metal sears her skin, starkly contrasting the warmth flooding her veins. She’s vulnerable, exposed, and yet the thrill of it sets her alight — a moth to flame, a siren to the sea.

Swallowing the tightly bunched nerves in her throat, she flings the door open with a quiet determination. It’s her choice, her call to make.

And there he is — Minhyuk — looking every bit the tempest she feels inside. His eyes are hooded, heavy with a desire that mirrors her own, and his lips part slightly, as if every breath he takes is borrowed, meant for this moment alone. His hair is a charming disarray, a testament to the fingers that have raked through it in impatience, want, or both.

His gaze latches onto hers immediately, an invisible yet unbreakable link snapping taut between them. He wastes no time and no words. As if pulled by an irresistible force, he steps into her apartment, closing the space that had stretched unfathomable just seconds ago. With a surety that only Minhyuk possesses, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

Everything in her screams to melt into him, into the kiss they’ve both implicitly promised each other through screens and silent longings. Her lips part in an intake of breath, a silent invitation.

He meets her halfway, and the kiss is a collision of every unsaid confession, every smoldering glance, every midnight thought. It consumes her, a fire that she’s stoked with every heart race, every blush, every time she dared to look at him and see more than just her best friend.

He nudges her towards the couch, his fingers gripping her hip as she sinks down onto its cushions. Her eyes lock onto his, desire smoldering beneath her gaze. He moves in closer, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips as he inches lower, his hand sliding up her thigh. She gasps as his fingers brush against her damp underwear, her body arching into his touch. His lips find hers, their kiss deepening as his hand works its way inside her panties, stroking her already swollen core. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against her mouth, “you’re wet.”

She moans softly, unable to tear her eyes away from his as he slowly pulls down her panties and tosses them aside. He kneels between her legs, running his tongue along the length of her slit before plunging it deep inside her tight heat. She bucks against him, crying out in pleasure as he thrusts his tongue in and out of her hungrily. His fingers find their way back to her clit, circling it expertly as he sucks harder on her folds. 

She’s never felt anything like this before; he knows exactly how to drive her wild with need. And how he looks at her — like she’s something precious yet completely surrendered — makes her heart race and throb between her legs. 

“Soon, you’ll be forgetting all about that final while I make you cum over and over again. How do you want to cum the first time? With my mouth or fingers?”

The sound of his voice sends chills down her spine. She can feel his hot breath on her pussy, his tongue dancing over her sensitive nub. Her eyes roll back in pleasure as she responds, “Fingers, please.”

With a smirk, he removes his fingers from her dripping pussy and starts massaging her clit, using his thumb to apply pressure and flick it gently. She squirms and whimpers, desperate for release.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a voice full of taunting innocence.

“No! Please don’t stop,” she pleads, her eyes squeezed shut.

Satisfied, he continues his assault on her clit until she’s writhing in ecstasy, begging him to finger her. He smiles wickedly, knowing he has complete control over her.

“Please finger me. I need it so bad,” she begs, her voice hoarse with need.

He chuckles darkly and leans in close to whisper in her ear. “Of course, princess. Whatever you want.”

With that, he slides two fingers inside her tight pussy, curling them up to hit her G-spot just right. She cries out in pleasure, her body shaking as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. He adds a third finger, stretching her wider and hitting deeper. She moans louder, her hips bucking wildly against his hand.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he teases, his voice low and gravelly.

She nods frantically, unable to speak through the waves of pleasure washing over her. He grins and increases the pace of his fingers, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She cries out again, her entire body tightening as she reaches the brink of orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness.

She gives in, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. She comes hard, screaming his name as her entire body shakes and trembles. He keeps pumping his fingers, letting her ride her orgasm out.

She gives in, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. She comes hard, screaming his name as her entire body shakes and trembles. He keeps pumping his fingers, letting her ride her orgasm out. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to catch her breath. He allowed it only for a moment, letting out a gasp as his mouth replaced his fingers.

“I told you I’m going to make you cum with my mouth. I need to taste you.”

Her body quivered and shook as his tongue danced along her clit. Her hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closer. His tongue was relentless. He sucked hard, licking faster, flicking her clit harder and harder. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm. His fingers slid inside her once more, and he began to pump them in and out of her, his tongue still working overtime on her clit. The sensation was too much. She screamed out his name and came hard once again.

With a savage growl, he buried his face between her trembling thighs, his tongue lashing out at her swollen clit with unrestrained hunger, wanting to get another orgasm from her. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he devoured her pussy like a starving man. His tongue danced and flicked, tracing wet circles around her sensitive bud before sucking it hard into his mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, grinding her hips against his face. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” 

He growled again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body as he doubled down on his assault. His fingers slid inside her, pumping in and out with an almost brutal intensity. She could feel herself tightening around him, her orgasm building like wildfire. 

“You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“God, yes,” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his scalp. “More, give me more.” 

He chuckled darkly, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pumping harder. She could feel her legs shaking, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, she shattered. 

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed, her back arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her through her orgasm until she was boneless and spent.

“Is that so?” he replied, his voice husky with desire, his brow raised in surprise, a smirk pulling at his lips.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I want you to take me,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Without another word, he rose from the couch and pulled her towards him. Their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss as he guided her towards the bedroom. They stumbled through the door, their hands frantically tugging at each other’s clothes until they were both naked and pressed against the bed.

He pushed her onto the soft mattress, his body covering hers as he claimed her lips once more. She moaned into his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands roaming over her body with possessive hunger.

“You asked for it,” he said, his voice barely audible. He growled, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

And then he was inside her, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. He fucked her hard and fast, his hips slamming into hers with bruising force. She could feel every inch of him, his cock hitting her in just the right spot. 

“Harder,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Fuck me harder. I want you to keep your promise to me.”

He growled, his fingers tightening on her hips as he complied. She could feel herself building again, her orgasm coiling in her belly like a spring. And then, with one final thrust, he sent her over the edge. 

“Oh, God!” she screamed, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. He followed her over, his own orgasm tearing through him like a storm. 

When it was over, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. “Fuck. That was good.”

“I aim to please,” he said, his voice smug. He then chuckled, his hand stroking her hair. 

“You’re insufferable,” she said, but her tone was affectionate. Rolling her eyes, a soft chuckle left her lips as she turned to look at him. At that moment, they felt like lovers. Not two best friends who had probably just broken so many rules and fucked. That was perhaps the first rule as best friends. Not fuck. “Min, can I ask you something?”

Silence filled the room—a loaded, thickening quiet pressed against their skin even as they basked in the afterglow of their indiscretion. The sheets clung to their intertwined limbs, a shroud of evidence to the line they had just obliterated.

“Yeah, anything,” he responded, still close enough that his breath danced across her skin.

Her voice, when it next came, was a poignant mix of vulnerability and resolve. “Minhyuk, what does this mean for us? We’ve just tangled everything up, and I can’t... I can’t just pretend we can go back to how things were.”

He felt the weight of her question settle over his chest, heavier than her hand had been moments before. Averting his gaze, he reached for levity in a situation that felt dangerously close to shifting their worlds. “Before we get into that, have you considered what you’re doing this summer? Maybe a trip somewhere could clear our heads.”

The light swat to his chest was a rebuke, her expression earnest and searching. “Seriously, Minhyuk. We can’t just ignore this.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, his voice touched by a seriousness mirrored her own. He sighed, feeling the tension in the air wraps around them tight. “We can’t. So here’s the truth — I don’t have all the answers. But I know that whatever we’ve done or will do, I don’t want to lose you, not as my friend, not as... this. Whatever this is.”

She let the silence fill the room for a beat. Unsure of their next actions. She just fucked her best friend. Her best friend of 5 years. The man who comforted her during her heartbreaks, made her laugh when she was at her lowest, the man who knew her family so well. And she loved it. 

Hell, she loved him.

“We could be friends with benefits.” Throwing the idea out there was just as risky as him leaving her apartment and blocking her number once he realized that this was fucked and should’ve never happened. But she was greedy - far too greedy for her to admit. She would rather pass away than see Minhyuk with someone. And she’s been around him for a long time to see how well he can treat someone he loves. She wants that. “Or not. We can just act like this didn’t happen.”

Her heart was a thunderous echo against her ribs as she waited for his reaction. The words hung there, suspended, a proposal that felt like the edge of a precipice. Fear twisted inside her; images of him pulling away, of a frayed friendship, flashed in her mind.

Minhyuk was silent. His eyes, dark pools of thought, fixed on her face as if trying to read the story written in her expectant gaze. Time crawled, a slow tick in an otherwise frozen room.

And then, finally, he exhaled. “Okay.”

Her breath hitched. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, the corner of his lips tilting into a half-smile of bemused acceptance. “We can try it. Friends with benefits.”

She nearly choked on her relief. But her heart was still a galloping stallion; this was uncharted territory.

“But if we’re doing this,” Minhyuk continued, suddenly practical in the midst of their emotional tempest, “we need rules. We must be on the same page about everything to protect... this.” He gestured between them, the fragile, precious thing that was their friendship.

Her mind raced, and yet, she was hit by the sudden gravity of their decision. “Rules,” she echoed, the word bringing a semblance of safety amidst the chaos of their desire. “Rules. Okay.”

“We respect each other, always,” he started, the serious hue returning to his voice. “And if one of us starts feeling more, we talk about it—no ghosting, no pretending. Nobody can know. This is between us. Someone might complicate things. Lastly, if either of us finds someone…” He paused, his eyes searching her room before landing on her again. Clearing his throat, he continues, “We stop this. We go back to being just best friends.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of their pact settle in. “And we end things if it’s too much.”

They both knew the stakes, the gamble, but in that moment, cloaked in the night’s embrace, it seemed possible to preserve their bond while exploring these new, thrilling dynamics.

“Deal,” she whispered, a pact sealed with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration.

The new agreement hummed between them, electric and alive. They were venturing into a maelstrom, two friends teetering on the cusp of something more, grasping at rules in a game where the heart was the ultimate prize.

“Deal.”

[tblsomedoodles]

Why the twins abandoned Draxum

Ok, i promised more Imaginary Friend content, and i am here to deliver!

this is a little more of the plot side of things rather than the shenanigans.

i'll put it under the cut since it's long. again.

Ok, so they sneak out to meet with Mikey and Raph for about three years before Draxum realizes what's going on. (or part of what's going on. He knows they have been sneaking out and the caretaker hasn't been doing his job properly, but he doesn't know they were sneakign out to meet, or even who they were meeting.)

Upon finding this out, the caretaker is fired and Draxum decides that, if they are competent enough to constantly leave the house on their own and come back fine, they are competent enough to be properly trained. This means they no longer have the opportunity to sneak out.

Mikey and Raph try to reach out to them via mind meld, but it's too far for a strong enough connection to communicate, not to mention the twins keep purposefully shutting them out. the twins figure that since they can no longer meet up with them, that It's better to cut themselves off completely now than continuing to long for a time, they believe, is gone.

It's two more years before they meet again, and it's on accident.

When Mayhem stole the emperium, Draxum sent the twins to fetch it, treating it as a test.

They're sent out to fetch the emperium, and, of course, run into Mikey and Raph (and April). It's very much a surprise, especially considering they're standing between them and their mission. They're careful not to hurt their siblings but do get Mayhem away Donnie sending Mikey a quick "do not follow us. it's dangerous" mind meld message before they nope on out through Leo's portal. a portal that both April and the soon-to-be imitation crab man go through before it closes.

They appear right in the middle of the lab so neither of the twins quite realize they have stowaways until it's too late. They recognize April as one of Mikey and Raph's friends and figure it's not a good idea for Draxum to realize she's there, so they hide her in a nearby closet before Draxum can notice, miming for her to stay quiet. once Draxum leaves again, Leo portals her back out of the building (he's aiming for topside but ends up just setting her down on their front porch for Mikey and Raph to find.)

Anyways! Mikey and Raph (and April) show up like canon, and, of course Draxum is seeing stars. It's the other two. He could have a full set once again! but they prove to be difficult to coerce into joining him, so he creates that vine monster to fight them (and test them while they're at it.) He sends Leo and Donnie after them as well, but they linger, choosing halfheartedly fight April rather than their brothers. That is, until Mikey ends up weaponless and the target of an attack that could hurt him.

Then the above happens. Donnie instinctively protects Mikey, which angers Draxum, which causes Leo to portal Donnie behind him so he's away from him, and, then they defect, choosing to get their brothers, April, and Mayhem out of the soon-to-explode lab rather than continue fighting.

but yeah, that's how they get away from Draxum. The power of little brother in peril lol.

(fun fact i'm just coming up with now (but have been thinking about) Draxum was super extra dramatic when he named the twins originally. He named them Thanatos and Somnus. though neither of them really acknowledge those names b/c they so rarely heard them growing up. Literally only Draxum used them. which is why when Mikey asked thier names, they just shrugged. Why is that Draxum beign extra, b/c those are the twin personifications of death and sleep respectively (though Somnus is technically the Roman name. but since Somnus's Greek name is Hypnos, i thought it would be too confusing.) also, according to Greek Mythology, Thanatos and Hypnos are the twin sons of Nyx (goddess of night) and Erebus (god of the dark). SO yes, Draxum was being dramatic AF and named a set of twins he was going to train to be ninja warriors, after the mythological twins born to night and darkness. and who also embody death and sleep. (this also gives me a good excuse to jokingly call the twins the Myth Twins, even though the aus staying named Mikey's imaginary Friends. lol))

[tallulah477]

also stuff more fantasies with the royalty au 🤭

— neteyam fucking his maid doggy style in his bedchambers and his butlers, knights, maids, p much everyone knows (and can hear if they walk by) but he doesnt care (infact enjoys it) knowing everyone can hear him claim her

— neteyam calling her over to have her cockwarm him (and be quiet? while he reads some letters from other kingdoms while shes trying not to moan or whine because hes in her guts and wach way she moves his dick hits a sensitive spot in her

— neteyam who sees her talking to one of the knights and he punishes her that night by overstimulating her he would eat her out for so long and putting her in so many different posistions shes basically passed out by the end of it with cum just oozing out of her onto the bed lmfao and covered in sm bite marks, hickies and bruises from where he gripped her too hard

Catch up on the story:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Extra: One | Two

Gosh, EVERYONE knows.

They don't talk about it (with it being forbidden and all) but all the staff knows that if something needs to be delivered to Neteyam, whether it's food or a message - they have to send it with you. He doesn't want to even talk with anyone else.

CW:// Mentions of Smut

And then he keeps you there, using any excuse to lock you in his room and just have his way with you for hours. He just focuses better with you on his cock.

It's so mind numbingly boring to read and answer every single letter he gets from a foreign dignitary. But you know what's not boring? You seated on his lap, snugly wrapped around his cock, the tip just touching your cervix as you whine into his neck, pussy clenching around him cause you're dying for him to move - but he can't. Can't fuck you properly until he's done, and that's all the motivation he needs to get his work done quickly.

And then a new knight shows up - some asshole who just got his role and thinks he's the absolute shit now. You're gorgeous, there's no denying that, but everyone else knows to steer clear of you in that way or risk facing Neteyam's wrath. But he doesn't know that yet, so when Neteyam finds him chatting you up, charming smile on his all too confident face - the smile drops off at the sight of the Prince's wild glare, and he feels it, deep in his bones, that if he doesn't back off, he might not survive another day.

Neteyam keeps you up all night, sucking bruises and love bites into your skin, marking you for all to see - so everyone, including your knight, can know that you're his - and his alone.

He presses his cock deep inside you, circling his fingers against your swollen clit roughly despite the fact that you already came six times, and growls against your lips - deep, possessive, and angry: "You're mine. Give me another one. Keep cumming for me until you remember who you belong to,"

[the-dragon-hearted]

Part 3:

There is a universe, somehow, where Silco saves Vi.

It's... actually not all that uncommon, despite the circumstances.

It's a known fact they dislike each other: Vi's too much like Vander and she takes pride in that. It leaves a bitter taste in Silco's mouth. They fight, often. Well, Vi fights. Silco listens quietly and tears her little arguments apart like wings from a butterfly. She curses his name and trashes his office every time one of his endeavors gets people killed. It happens more often than not - the price of freedom is always paid in blood.

But, everytime he sits and watches. Calmly. When necissary, he can chase her out with a few words. Usually, it's a reminder of her temper, her age, or Vander. The latter is sometimes the only thing that can kill her fury.

She's not Vander; it seems he's the only one willing to make her remember that. She hates him for it. For the death and the suffering and the fact that neither of them can fill the cast iron gloves hanging above the bar. Not really.

But, when the chips are down and the guns are aimed, when she's collapsed in an alleyway from a broken rib, when it feels like it's just her with the Last Drop to her back... Silco's there. He'd do many things, but he'd never abandon her.

So he drags her home and leaves Mylo to patch her up. He bails them out of idiotic schemes. He hides enforcer bodies in the river (he never minds doing that). He pays someone off or makes someone disappear.

She still hates him, probably.

He... can't return the sentiment. She's irritating, in all those familiar ways Vander was, but it's different. He'd looked up to Vander, once. Much like Powder does to Vi - much like they all look up to Vi. But, she is not her Father. She is a child trying to fill shoes too big for her. From such a perspective, her irritating qualities are more... palatable.

She bartends, clenching her jaw and playing diplomat with the remnants of Vander's faction. She's a child, and the underworld knows it. Her hands are clumsier as they clean the glasses, unsure of how to be gentle when the rage burns.

The first time she asks Silco for anything is after she breaks the last of Vander's shot glasses. It's one of the only times her eyes mist in his presence. Nice glass is hard to come by in the undercity, and her going to the surface was out of the question... not after last time.

Silco has Sevika deliver the shipment and neither of them mention it again.

She's Vander's child. They all are. A step too far and the four (five, though Ekko's much better at staying out of trouble than his irritating late-guardian) gain a new title. Silco does not consider himself an emotional man, not anymore. But the first time an opposing crime lord tried to get to him through the children - Mylo, specifically - he finds himself... inspired.

Sevika finds Mylo in their enemy's basement. It's Silco who takes him home, a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder. They walk, tall - at least Silco does, something odd raging in his gut like a tidal wave.

It's a statement for him to walk Mylo home and he knows it. They're stared at - it's probably the first time he's ever done anything visible like this with any of Vander's kids. He doesn't regret it. Mylo doesn't either.

They root out the rot and leave a new scar in Zaun, Sevika is efficient and brutal when the time demands it. She aligns with Silco in that manner. He's never liked these inter-faction fights, but sometimes messages must be sent. Messages signed eloquently in blood are more memorable, and it must be memorable. Zaun's streets are too used to violence - if you want to send a message you must be... purposeful.

Mess with Vander's children and you will be meeting Zaun's ghosts.

It's the first collection of murders Vi doesn't condemn him for. Mylo's behind the bar with her, ranting about shitty air ventilation, nervous hands calming themselves as they dust glasses. Vi's quiet as Silco sits, not a word spared. She pours him a shot in a cleanly cut shot glass and it almost tastes sweeter.

They are Silco's wards. Vander's children, but under Silco's gaze. He doesn't want it to go any further, and the city would do well not to test it. Piltover too.

The marshall learns quickly enough that the streets play by new rules now. The Lanes are the safest place in Zaun for its children - they're nothing but a death sentence for enforcers.

Vi's... useful, in that regard. The only thing she seems to hate more than Silco is the people who got to Vander before he did. Another rare thing they both agree on.

So, yes, Silco has saved her before. This is different. It's not a glorious or proud moment... it's... necessary, as all things are in his life.

It starts when he slips by the Last Drop - he tries to do it fairly regularly. Not for the children, but for the statement. He's welcome here now. The streets know it. He haunts his old life, a stronger, fiercer phantom than any of his old demons.

It's pride, and he knows it. He strides in and smiles through the glares, Vi's included. She still pours him a glass no matter what fight they're having. She loves Powder too much to chase him away. That power is the halfway point between intoxication and sobriety, just as the shot of Vander's whiskey is.

He's late for his visit this time. Very late. More likely than not Vi's gone to bed and won't be up until late noon. He'll pour himself a drink then. There are no regulars to grumble at his arrival, just a drunk passed out in the alleyway next to the bar. Vi is still learning the art of cutting people off - sometimes he thinks she keeps the nastier ones drinking to teach them a lesson. Drags them home so they owe her a favor - so they remember they were at her mercy, once.

She's like Vander, but she's not all Vander.

Or maybe she is... Silco's throat is tight and his eye is beginning to throb from the long day. He reaches the door and stops.

It's left open.

Paranoia is an old friend. It keeps two knives on him, always in arm's reach. Danger is the best friend of Zaun's children, and it's taught him well.

Vi does not keep the door open. It lets a draft in, and the stench of the streets. She's particular about such things.

Silco pushes the door open and takes a long breath. It's a familiar sight, not to the bar, but to Silco: there was a scuffle, of some sort. There's blood on the bartop and a broken bottle on the floor. Stools are tossed aside, and the jukebox is donning a new crack - it was a long fight, then. It seems the dancers danced their vicious waltz all through the bar.

Silco steps into the bar, still lit, but empty. There's... something climbing up his throat as his mind churns out the most likely probabilities. It tastes like river water.

Vi was a fighter, like her Father. The streets knew it. They called her the 'little hound'. Silco never corrected them.

He crouches down to study a skid mark on the floor, right next to a small pool of blood. Someone had gotten punched, hard. Silco moves faster, passing the ghost of a bar and delving into its hold - the heart of this haven Vander built.

The door to the children's rooms is locked. That means one of two things. Either there's a nasty sight beyond for Silco to find, or Vi did what she did best.

He knocks: a rhythmic game that he knows one of the five will get. It's one of Powder's many games, tapping on his office door before barging in. Or his closet. Or his desk. Wherever her new hiding spot was. She and Ekko found some sort of amusement in startling him. Silco may loathe to admit it, but the pattern made their impromptu visits nicer. The anxiety leaves when the assassin in the belfry turns out to be the two youngest giggling at their endeavors.

Silco uses Powder's knock. He's met with silence.

There's a churning in his gut because he knows.

He's made enemies. Vander's children are still Vander's children - and the Hound's death doesn't satiate old blood feuds. And... he's not as clandestine in his affections as he wants to be.

Sevika tells him that much.

So does this. If those kids are dead, if Silco kicks this door down and finds bodies, he's going to make someone burn. He's going to carve this little haven apart in a baptism of blood.

A perfectly reasonable reaction. Justified, even. Not even Vander would disagree. It doesn't settle the crashing wave of something other than anger that's ripping him apart at the thought.

There's a scrambling on the other side and Silco releases a long breath he forgot he was holding.

There's a familiar hiss: "Powder - Powder no -"

Claggor's alive at least... and so is -

Powder opens the door, taking a large gasp as she runs to Silco and grabs him in a hug. It's not her usual. She'll poke at him or snatch something out of his pockets, but she's never been much of a hugger.

Silco isn't either.

He lets her stay, for now and places a hand on her head. She's warm... breathing and warm. He uses his other hand to push the door further. It reveals a more desperate scene. Claggor's holding a bloodied rag to his head. Mylo's nursing a broken nose from where he lays on the couch.

So it wasn't a long scuffle - it was multiple fights.

"What happened?" Silco only ever demands. Something Mylo hates - can't ask nicely, can you?

"Was one of those gangs Vi chased out a few weeks back," Claggor's the voice of reason and honesty. Now he's donning a black eye and bruised knuckles. He has Vander's build, but lacks a stomach for fighting. He can do it - and do it well, but not like Vi...

Damn girl. She's missing from their usual nest. Ekko too, but that's at least usual.

"Where is Vi?" Silco keeps his voice level, or he thinks he does. Powder pulls away and wipes her eyes, a familiar guilt dancing over her unblemished face.

"She went after them," Mylo answers, nasally, as he holds his head back. The nose is likely broken... again. "Told us to hold up here till she got back."

"Alone?" Silco's not surprised but he is... angry.

Not at Vi. She's an idiot, always has been. Like someone else he knew. She's doing what she'll always do.

Powder's near inconsolable, as she usually is when it comes to such things: "She told us to stay - I didn't want to but she made us promise and - and we couldn't find Ekko so we don't know where he went. I - I wanted to get you -"

"It's alright, how long ago did this happen?" Silco crouches down to meet Powder's gaze.

"I dunno, ten minutes," Mylo answers. "You just missed it -"

"Which gang?" Silco's impatience is eating at him.

No one has an answer.

"Stay here," he orders in the face of silence. "Wait for me."

"You're gonna get her, right?" Powder pleads. "I can help!"

It's always about helping, with her. Always about being useful and loved. It's painfully easy to manipulate.

"Protect your brothers," Silco instructs carefully, softly. He looks around the room and eyes familiar explosive devices at her bedside. "If they come back to finish the job, use your tools. Make them regret what they've done."

"We don't need her-" Mylo begins to object before Claggor slaps his shoulder.

Powder doesn't fully buy the lie, but it's enough. She bites her lip and nods. Silco spares her a warmer glance before he departs. The door closes behind him and it seems Claggor and Mylo immediately begin to argue: Typical.

Silco's a bit too busy seething to do much else. He gives the bar another survey, trying to decipher what Vander's little prodigy got herself into.

It could be a little collection of street menaces. Faux-tough folks who like to poke and prod at any establishment they can, except of course the actual bastards of Piltover. Silco hated such short-sightedness. That energy would be better aimed at those gold-plated brutes that police the streets they spit on.

There's no chance of beating Piltover if the streets are too busy going at each other's throats. Vi had kicked out a few folks, and broken a few teeth, but retaliation had always been out of the question. She'd been spared from the worst of Zaun's cannibalistic tendencies her whole life.

Though she may hate it, Vi was the closest Zaun would ever get to royalty. The daughter of Vander, protected by Silco's knife edge. So either these bastards were stupid or they knew exactly what they were doing.

And if they were the latter, there was a large chance Vi wasn't just gone. That's the cost of sending messages.

You get sent messages too...

"Thought I might find you here," a voice breaks through his concentration as he finds a few discarded coins by a table. It's Sevika. He doesn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as he pockets the change.

"Never a dull moment," Silco curses, standing. "Vi's run off."

"I know," Sevika mutters with a familiar exasperation. "I tried to stop her."

"You saw her!?"

"Yeah, caught her chasing down some thugs. She had a few scores to settle." Sevika is far too casual about it as she saunters over to the bar and pours herself a drink.

"And if it was a trap?" Silco's' challenge sounds a bit more paranoid out loud than it did in his head.

"I recognized the poor bastards, they're stupid - harmless in the long run," Sevika shrugs. "They take folks by surprise. Though they're in for a nasty one now."

Silco sighs, heavily, pinching his nose as a headache tries to wrestle into his priorities: "Where did she go?"

"Up towards the fishmonger's, at the pace she was at, she's probably caught up by now. She'll be back. They won't."

Silco doesn't say anything to that. He can't. So he leaves.

"Keep watch," he orders as he goes, because orders are simple, kinder things.

The streets are dark and damp, as always, but they're colder now. It's a bad idea to walk alone - especially given who he is. But... these were Vander's streets and they are his now. Strangely enough, despite the animosity there, the old resistance keeps a watchful eye out on his back. He doesn't trust it, but he does understand it.

You take care of those kids now, or so the old Yordle from the brothel had ordered. Do that, and I won't mind you.

He still walks quickly and grapples with old ghosts. Vi's growing into something - something Vander would be keen on stopping. Something Vander had always been afraid of becoming.

It's a stupid thing, really. Silco's breathing in Zaun's poisoned air and lamenting on all the things that dead fool may have been right about.

Vi's useful as a little hound, but Silco's never gotten good at leashing her. Vander never managed it either. All of those kids were annoyingly stubborn and brilliant and mold them as Silco may, some things don't change. Not the river water of Zaun or the blood on the bridge.

For the first time, Silco considers that maybe he's not the only one who drowned on these streets. It's no coincidence the thought comes as he passes the corner Vander died on.

He pushes it aside, quickly. He has something more important to deal with.

He finds her stumbling back. She is a mess. Broken nose, a black eye, and her knuckles are covered in blood. She is covered in blood. She limps along, guarding her side, pausing only when she sees him.

"Oh fuck me," she scorns and Silco has to chuckle at that.

"Hello Violet," he greets with a sarcastic glance. "You look well."

"Fuck off, Silco. What are you doing here?" half of the anger in her voice is from pain. The other half is her earnest loathing of him.

He can answer her honestly, though: "Looking for you."

"Well, you found me." She presses onward, passing him with a glare. He's content to follow.

They walk in silence for a while, Vi spitting out a glob of blood after a minute and cursing a colorful array for her wounds.

"Did you find them?" Silco inquires, once it's clear she intends to ignore him the entire time.

"Course," she spits.

"And, you walked away."

"I won. They're not coming back."

"Good," Silco supposes. The praise doesn't end kindly on her shoulders, but it's earnest.

"If you're gonna lecture me on how stupid going off alone was -"

"I have no such intention."

"I didn't kill them, either."

"I wouldn't care much if you did. It could complicate matters, but it's manageable."

Vi sneers at that and presses onward.

"Call for a doctor, when you get back," Silco orders, gently as he can.

She glares at him - a clear refusal. It's not a bad idea, and she knows it, but because Silco said it, her little spiteful side would rather bleed out on the street.

That's... not Vander. It may be Felicia in her...

"Were you stabbed?" Silco suddenly catches a glimpse at the side she's guarding.

"No."

"The blood isn't yours?"

"Can you just fuck off?"

"Violet. Have you been stabbed?"

She whirls around, probably to hiss another insult at him, but she stumbles instead. Embarrassingly enough for both of them, Silco moves to catch her. She grabs a light post instead and heaves out a heavier breath.

Silco watches, rolling his eyes at the theatrics.

"It would kill you to direct your stubbornness somewhere beneficial, wouldn't it?" He jabs, in a whisper.

"I didn't fucking ask for your help!" She snaps back, pulling herself back up and pressing a bloodied hand firmer into her side.

"No. You didn't," Silco mutters, and he's quick to snatch her wrist, stained by her own crimson. He isn't as strong as he once was, but with surprise on his side, he can yank her hand away long enough to see the wound beneath it.

Oh, look at that. She has been stabbed. Who would've guessed?

She rips out of his hold and he lets her. It was a more performative act anyway - she'll glare at him either way. She leans away from him with a snarl of: "Fucking bastard." Like a cornered dog.

Little hound indeed.

"Sit down," he orders.

"No -"

"Violet. Sit. Down."

It doesn't usually work on her. The tone was more useful with Claggor - but she's bleeding out. Seems that some of the stubbornness is going with it.

She sags to the cobblestone with a grimace as she guards her side, hissing through clenched teeth as she lands heavily. Silco crouches down in front of her, pulling out familiar tools from a small pouch he always keeps handy.

Again, paranoia and preparation were identical twins, you could only tell them apart in practice. He was well-versed in both.

"Oh, fuck this: Get your damn doctor," Vi spat as she spied the small vial of astringent.

And Silco hums to match her scathing tone: "I would. But you've decided to give us a time crunch."

"I - "

"Move your hand."

"No!"

"Violet, I am not going to tell your siblings that you bled out in front of me."

It was the only way to get her to do anything. A familiar arm to twist when it was necessary. She knew it too, which is why her glare burned darker, but she obeyed, even lifting up her shirt a few precious inches to show him the gore beneath. That was enough.

The streets of Zaun were familiar with questionable medical practices, and Silco was familiar with impromptu triage. They'd need better stitches and a thorough cleaning once he was done, but it would stop her from bleeding, for now.

She hissed when he poured the cleaner over it.

"Fucker -"

"You're welcome," he interrupts curtly. "And you're lucky."

She says nothing as she clenches her teeth and covers her eyes, breaths coming fast and heavy.

"If this had gone any deeper, or moved any higher, we'd be in a different predicament," Silco continues.

"Well it'd fix one of your problems," Vi spat between heavy breaths as Silco threaded the needle.

He chuckled at that one: "Perhaps."

Vi bites her already bloodied knuckles to keep from screaming as Silco begins his work. Painkillers would've been a useful thing to keep handy, but Silco prepares for needs, not comforts.

This may... change that.

The closeness is one of necessity, and it's obviously no comfort to the girl, so Silco works quickly. It's messy, but again, he intends to get an actual doctor as soon as the bleeding is stemmed. You can't exactly apply a tourniquet to a torso. And you shouldn't make a habit of stitching up your enemies.

Not that Vi was an enemy... not to him, at least.

"Of course, if you did die," he finds himself musing: "I dare say Claggor will end up breaking even more glasses than you did."

She doesn't respond but there is a breath - quick... it may even be a laugh.

"Unless Mylo takes over bartending. In which case I should hike up our liquor order. Something tells me he'll get too eager to test the merchandise."

"Oh fuck off." There she is.

"We'll have to wait until Powder grows a bit taller - if she doesn't kill me first for letting you die."

He cuts off the thin wire now holding the wound together. It snaps quickly and he ties it - tight. Vi's hand suddenly clamps onto his arm and he's thrusted back years by the force in that grip. He tries to hide it and likely does seeing how out of it the girl is. She's leaning forward, breathing heavily. His breaths, in conjecture: feather-light. Too quick.

"She - she wouldn't," the girl manages.

It's Silco who can't respond this time, staring at the white-knuckled grip on his arm. Well, they would be white knuckles if said knuckles were split and covered in grime. Familiar... too familiar.

Vi continues though, the pain spilling from her eyes despite the chuckle in her throat: "She likes you too much - looks up to you."

"A questionable choice," Silco finally forces out of his dry throat, carefully dissecting Vi's grip from his wrist.

"Yeah," she spits, leaning further forward, at least until Silco catches her shoulder.

"You'll split the stitching. You still need a doctor."

"Fuck."

Understandable. Silco helps her stand and, as if to scream how much she's truly out of it, she doesn't protest in the slightest. They make their way through the streets, slowly. The Last Drop is the closest safe spot, though the faster they find a doctor the better.

They get halfway there when Vi starts breathing just a little too heavy for his taste. She's shaking and when she starts leaning on him he caves in. They stop and he pushes her to a wall.

Another order: "Catch your breath."

She obeys. That's a problem. They're running out of time. He can't leave her here but he can't wait either.

Choices, choices, choices.

"I shouldn't have gone alone," Vi recites hatefully as she slides down to the brick wall, wrapping both arms around her stomach. "I know, it was fucking stupid."

"Well, at least you recognize it," Silco scathes, holding the bridge of his nose again as the ache behind his eye worsens. Brilliant. Who does he know around here? Anyone trustworthy?

"They needed to get the shit kicked out them," she rues, weakly.

"And did you get stabbed before or after you exacted your justice?"

"After. Fucker pulled a knife once it was a one-on-one."

"Predictable," Silco scolds. She glares, good - at least something familiar is still there.

"Maybe for you."

"Don't pretend Mylo doesn't play dirty. You know to expect it." Silco hardly notices he's begun to pace. There's blood dripping on the cobblestone. They need to move. Vi's breaths are still heavy.

The streets smell like river water.

"I broke his face."

And that, Silco can laugh at: "I don't doubt it. Now get up. We need to go."

She closes her eyes at the order - a bit too long for his taste. He couches down and grabs her shoulder. "Violet."

"I'm moving," she grumbles, taking his hand and weakly standing once more. Immediately, she collapses and Silco barely catches her, lowering her to the floor gently as he can as it all trickles out of him in hollow realization.

He sits her up against the wall and, heavily, takes a seat next to her. He can't carry her back. He's not that strong - maybe never was. And she's bigger now. He needs to go - get someone who can help.

He can not leave her. Not like this. Not like this.

He's lied millions of times, he'll lie a million times more before his life is through, but he made a promise, to a dead man, but a promise nonetheless. He could not leave her to die another one of Zaun's orphans. Her last cradle in the cobblestones. He would not leave her to die alone.

"Fuck." It's weaker now, wet. She's crying.

He can't stomach it.

"We need to move," he tries to find a sternness to press onward. It ends up sounding desperate. His hand is over hers, applying pressure she doesn't have the strength to.

"I shouldn't have gone alone," she repeats. The anger's gone... it's fermented into regret.

"You should have called me," he hates the rage that is slipping through his teeth like the blood between his fingers. "I would've handled this."

"They kicked Claggor," she breaths - like that's some sort of defense.

"You are dying."

There it is: in the air. No taking it back now. He knows it. She knows it. Zaun knows it.

"You are dying because of your own idiocy," he seethes regardless.

"Keep Powder away from your fucking war," is her answer. "Mylo and Claggor... keep them away -"

No. No he will not -

"You want to keep them away? Do it yourself," he hisses as he pulls her up again. This time he has one hand under her shoulders and the other pressed against her side. "Move."

"Silco -"

Not fucker. Or bastard. Or the many other colorful names she's deemed him worthy of.

"Move." That's his answer. It's his answer for the next few blocks, then there's a stirring from one of the rooftops and Silco almost breathes in relief to hear a familiar rhythm of taps, asking if the coast is clear.

Vi notices nothing, she's limp, and in a moment of weakness he presses harder inciting a gasp. She's still alive and she'll fucking stay that way.

"EKKO!" He calls and the boy is there, peeking over a roof's ledge. His eyes are wide and Silco doesn't help to soothe the fear there. "Get a doctor! Now!"

"Who?" the boy cries back, eyes locked on Vi.

"Anyone! Closest one you can find." Silco's done with plans currently. No one will try anything stupid with Sevika staring over their shoulder. Time's not on their side. On Violet's side.

Ekko's smart enough to not get himself kidnapped - probably. Tonight's just been full of all sorts of lovely surprises.

They press onwards. The streets are dead this early in the morning. It's nearly time for the early risers to stir. What fools do creep the streets vanish at the sight of Silco.

Vi's a heavy weight on his side, her feet dragging more and more with every moment.

"I seem to recall one of Vander's teachings warning against this exact situation," he mutters.

The sound of her late Father stirs her just a bit - it's all he needs. Her eyes flicker over and he drags her onward.

"Something about being careful about the fights you pick - and the causes you die for," he scorns.

A familiar warning. One he'd almost died for. The hands around his neck are heavy, but still lighter than Vi's weight on his side.

She doesn't answer.

"How did it go?" Silco breathed rhetorically. "Every time you raise your fist, make sure you're ready to die for it?"

"Make sure... you're ready... for someone to die for it," Vi breathes and it's not relief, but it's something similar that fills Silco's flooded lungs.

"Ah, of course. He was always so worried about collateral," Silco feigns ignorance. "And murder."

"Yeah," Vi barks a weak laugh. "You... wouldn't... know..."

"I wouldn't," Silco agrees. "Everyone has something they'd die for. I happen to think certain causes are worth killing for."

Vi goes silent so Silco clears his throat: "Not this though."

She does huff at that.

"It will be embarrassing if you die from this," Silco mutters.

No answer. He begins to calculate the next way phrase that could stir her up when she breathes a weak laugh.

"He wouldn't have died from this."

It doesn't take a genius to guess who she's talking about.

"Neither will you," Silco states.

"He... wouldn't have been stupid."

Silco does roll his eyes at that: "He absolutely would have been."

"Should've... seen it... coming."

"Yes. But you'll learn. We all do."

"I was... angry."

"I know." Silco breathes. Because he does. He knows it better than anyone else. Better than Vander would've.

Like a blessing from Janna, there's a golden light spilling from down the street, and they turn towards the Last Drop. They aren't a step towards it before Sevika is at the door, throwing it open and running towards them.

"The trick about anger, Violet -" Silco breathes as they slow. He looks at her and finds a determination in those eyes - "It's all in knowing how to use it. That rage will either kill you... or keep you alive. It's time you decide how you'll use it."

Sevika is there and she picks Vi up like she weighs nothing. The doctor arrives a few minutes later, Ekko on his heels. Some kinder neighbor who lacks prowess but is willing to do it for free - to repay an old favor to Vander.

Good enough.

Powder's crying next to him. Mylo and Claggor fret the whole time. Ekko takes his place next to Powder and watches with a mixture of grief and horror. Sevika is strangely quiet.

But Vi? She refuses to fade. Refuses to pass out. She grips the chair beneath her and grinds her teeth on a twisted rag from Sevika as the doctor works. Her nails carve into the wood until splinters bloody her cuticles - and sometimes, she looks to Silco.

He doesn't know what she sees there, doesn't know what she's looking for. He just knows she's going to survive.

She knows it too.

She's not Vander, never was. It's not a bad thing.

But it changes everything.

[superhaught]

Angel in the Snow

Pairing: Reneé Rapp & Reader (platonic)

Warnings: drug use, drug-induced unconsciousness, overdose, refers to sexual assault, mention of blood, emergency room examination, angst, hurt-comfort

Word Count: 2950, Part 1/?

Note from Author:

! This is an AU where reader finds Reneé before she loses 7 hours of her life that night. There is difficult subject matter here so please read at your own discretion. !

Big shoutout to @fanofthings20 who beta-read this piece for me, thank you so much!

If this is missing any necessary warnings or tags please let me know!

Finally, carry Narcan/Naloxone!

Reneé is reader's best friend. Reneé is partying a lot and one night, Reneé is unaccounted for. Reader looks for and helps her friend. Based on the events that "Snow Angel" is about.

No one knew where she was, and you were the only one who seemed to care. Everyone was annoyed that you were even asking. 

“You’re freaking out over nothing, I’m sure she just left.”

But you didn’t feel like it was nothing. There was a feeling in your gut that said otherwise. Reneé had disappeared from the group over an hour ago. Your best friend in the world was nowhere to be found and all of these assholes were more concerned about maintaining their buzz than her well-being. 

You sent her a third text asking if she was okay that got left on delivered.

You never felt that it was your place to stand in the way of Reneé having fun and enjoying herself, but you were worried about her. More than worried… you were scared for her. 

Lately, you had felt like she was pushing the limits of what she could handle, sustaining herself on parties and substances and hook ups. You knew that she was trying to escape something, you just didn’t know what. You would have given anything for her to just let you in. 

One week prior, you went out on a limb and tried to talk to her about it. She got mad. Madder than you’d ever seen her. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” she asserted.

“Reneé, please, I’m just trying to help…”

“Well, you’re not. You’re just being fucking annoying.”

She told you to leave her alone, but you couldn’t leave her alone. Especially not now. Not when she had her finger on the self-destruct button. 

You weren’t invited to this party but you knew she was going to be there with some guy and his friends and you just didn’t trust him. So you showed up and found the group she was supposed to be with, but Reneé and her date weren’t with them. 

“Fuck you all,” you said as you stormed off and started asking for help from the bartenders and bouncers. You showed a picture of her to various club staff and none of them really recognized her or knew where she might be.

No one was taking you seriously and you started to doubt yourself. Maybe you were being insane. Reneé is an adult and the fact that you were trying to track her down when she didn’t even want you here was pretty crazy of you. She probably did just leave with the guy to hook up.

But then you shook your head. No. You’d rather be anxious and find out that nothing was wrong after all than let something happen to her. If she was drunk or high, she could be taken advantage of and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t do everything you could.

You tried calling her. You let it ring until it went to voicemail, “Hey it’s Reneé, leave a message.” You felt sick to your stomach. Even if she was mad at you, Reneé would never not pick up a call from you if she could help it. 

You did another lap of the dancefloor and still didn’t see the blonde. You started to check the club bathrooms, shouting her name and getting a lot of weird looks but not getting any closer to finding her. So you started to get more creative. You left the club area in favor of searching the hotel that housed it. The main lobby was fairly empty and quiet. 

You rushed up to the worker at the front desk and showed Reneé’s picture to her, “please, I’m looking for my friend, I think she could be in trouble, have you seen her?”

The woman sighed and pulled her glasses down from the top of her head to examine your phone. She squinted her eyes as she took the phone from your hand to look at it closer. Your body trembled anxiously as you waited. 

“You know what,” the woman began, “she does look familiar. I think I saw a blonde girl like her go into the restroom here a while ago. She came from the club and there was a young man with her. She didn’t look well.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” You took your phone back and sprinted to the bathroom she pointed to. The bathroom door flew open at the push of your arm and your worst fears were confirmed at what you found in the bathroom. 

Reneé was unconscious on the bathroom floor, curled up in one of the stalls. 

“No… no no no!” You fell to your knees at her side and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Reneé didn’t respond. You leaned down and felt that she was breathing, just really slowly. 

You shook her again and touched her face. She was cold and clammy. Her makeup had run down her cheeks. There was blood on her pants. You couldn’t think about what might have happened, yet, you just needed to help her. 

You knew she’d kill you if you called 911 but you didn’t fucking care so you did. You punched 911 into your phone with shaking hands and then put it on speaker and set it down on the floor.

“Nine one one what is the location of your emergency?”

You didn’t realize that you were sobbing until you spoke to give the operator the address of the hotel. 

“Okay hun, I’ve got your location, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s my friend, she’s unresponsive. I think she might be overdosing or maybe she was roofied, I don’t know what to do! Should I give her Narcan?” 

“Yes, do you have Narcan available to you right now?” 

“Yes, I do.” You opened your bag and took your Narcan kit out. You thanked your lucky stars that you thought ahead to bring it with you.

“Great yes go ahead and administer the Narcan. Paramedics are on their way to you now. Have you ever administered Narcan before?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

The 911 operator started talking you through the steps and you ripped open the package and put the tip of the sprayer into one side of Reneé’s nose and depressed it to administer the medication. 

You waited for a few seconds, caressing Reneé’s cheek gently and saying her name out loud, waiting with baited breath for her to respond. Suddenly, Reneé inhaled a deep breath and her eyes flew open. 

“Oh my god! Nae!” 

Reneé looked all around her in a panic and then finally found your eyes. She gripped your arms with white knuckles. 

“It’s me, Nae. It’s me… you’re safe, I’ve got you… it’s okay…” you spoke to her through tears.

Reneé didn’t say anything in response, she just stared at you with wide eyes. 

The 911 operator spoke from the phone, “is she responsive, now?” 

“Yes, yes, she’s awake.” You sobbed. 

“Okay the ambulance is almost there, stay put for the paramedics okay? I’ll stay on the line with you. Can you get your friend in the recovery position, do you know that?” 

“Yes,” you replied, “Reneé, I need to roll you onto your side, okay?” 

Reneé was just terrified and slow to process anything but she let you adjust her onto her side with her arm under her head. 

You leaned over her and wrapped your arms around her. You whispered to her, “it’s okay, help is almost here. And I’ve got you… you’re gonna be okay, Reneé… I’ve got you…” 

Reneé coughed and started crying as she grasped onto your hand tightly, lacing her fingers with yours, “how… how… did you… know…?” 

“I just knew… I knew you needed me…” 

“I’m so… sorry…” 

“Shhhh… shhh… stop…” your own tears fell onto her shoulder and you rubbed your thumb over hers, “that doesn’t matter…” 

“I… I… I fucked up…” 

“It’s going to be okay…”

The next hour was a whirlwind. You stayed at Reneé’s side the entire time while the paramedics came and checked on her in the hotel bathroom. Then they got her onto a stretcher and brought her into the ambulance. You held her hand the whole time. 

You were there as Reneé got checked into the hospital ER. She was asked a million questions that she struggled to answer, not remembering much of anything from her night. Reneé kept looking over at you with panic in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, just do your best,” you whispered.

The ER nurse took her vitals, drew blood, gave her fluids through an IV, and had Reneé provide a urine sample. Then, she left the two of you alone in a sterile exam room to wait.

Reneé’s mind and body were exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were dry. She shivered and trembled in the uncomfortable hospital bed. But she held on tightly to your hand like it was her lifeline.

You squeezed her hand back and smiled softly, “I’m here,” you’d say, “I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. You reached out and wiped them away with the thumb of your free hand, “it’s gonna be alright.” 

Reneé leaned into your touch and closed her eyes.

“Reneé,” you whispered, “I want to leave the choice up to you, do you want me to call your parents?” 

She shook her head, “please, don’t… not yet… I don’t want them to freak out and get on a plane… I’ll tell them… when I’m ready… I promise…” 

You nod your head, “okay, Nae. If that’s what you want.” 

“Thank you…” she sniffled.

You leaned forward and lightly kissed the back of her hand.

“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this…” she mumbled.

“Don’t even worry about that, Nae.”

She frowned and went quiet for a moment, then whispered, “if you hadn’t found me…”

“Shh… don’t go there…”

 “I’ve been such an idiot. I should have listened to you…”

“You’re not an idiot, Reneé.” 

“I thought I could make it go away…” 

“I don’t understand… make what go away?” 

Reneé stared at you for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. You squeezed her hand again and gave her a pleading expression.

But before Reneé could speak, there was a knock on the door and it began to open. Reneé closed her mouth, let go of your hand and directed her attention to the door. 

A doctor and a police officer came into the room together and shut the door. Reneé’s eyes widened. The doctor sat down on a rolling stool and explained what they knew so far. She had a high blood alcohol level, and an intense cocktail of drugs in her system, which included weed, cocaine and ketamine. 

The doctor continued and asked Reneé if she would be willing to undergo a sexual assault examination.

To your shock, Reneé adamantly shook her head. 

“No… no, I don’t want to do that,” she said. 

“Are you absolutely sure?” The doctor asked. 

“I’m sure… I just want this to be over.” 

The doctor nodded slowly, “it’s your choice. If you change your mind, just let someone know, but the sooner it’s done, the more likely it is we will find actionable results. For now, though, this officer has some questions for you and then I’ll have a nurse come back in to discuss some rehabilitation options with you, alright?”

Reneé nodded. The doctor stood up and left the room. You met Reneé’s eyes and repeated the doctor’s question, “Nae, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she snapped. 

The officer then pulled out a notebook and began asking Reneé questions about her night. Who she was with, who had the drugs, where did they get them, what she remembered leading up to going to the hotel bathroom…

Reneé maintained that she didn’t remember much of the night. She didn’t know how anyone got the drugs. She didn’t know if she was alone when she went to the bathroom or not. She didn’t know what happened to the guy that she was with. 

You sat beside her and listened to the conversation. The more questions she was asked, the more emotional Reneé became. She started to cry and you just caressed her arm until the officer was finally satisfied and left. 

Over the next hour, a nurse came in and gave Reneé some brochures for drug rehabilitation programs and then took her vitals one last time before discharging her. 

You left the hospital and called an Uber. Reneé gently took your phone from you and added a stop to the ride and then handed your phone back to you. 

You looked at what she added, “a CVS? What for?”

“I have to get something.”

“Okay.”

The car pulled up and you got inside. You thought of asking her to finish what she was saying before the doctor interrupted but inside, you rode in silence. The driver parked at the pharmacy and Reneé moved to get out of the car.

“Want me to come with?”

“No, stay here,” she instructed. 

You waited in the car while Reneé ran into the pharmacy. She was back no more than five minutes later with a small bag. 

The driver continued on and finally dropped you both off at your apartment, which was Reneé’s request. You unlocked your apartment door and she went inside and went straight to your kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. 

She reached into her bag from the CVS and then looked at you with a serious expression, “I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything in response. 

Reneé pulled a Plan B package out of the pharmacy bag and your heart sunk. She opened it and briefly skimmed the instructions on the packaging and then took the pill and drank the whole glass of water. 

“Nae…”

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything… I’m just… sorry.”

She sighed, “you didn’t do anything worth apologizing for.”

“I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”

“You were there. You did everything you could’ve.” She stared for a long moment at her own hands planted on your kitchen counter, “I’m exhausted…”

“I’ll get you some clothes to wear to bed.” 

Reneé nodded her head.

Before going to your bedroom you slowly approached her and held your arms out. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye and then suddenly turned and collapsed into your offer of a hug. She grasped you tightly, squeezing the fabric of your shirt in her fists and she sobbed. The floodgates burst open and the woman bawled into the crook of your neck with unprecedented force. 

You must’ve held her like that for twenty minutes. Eventually, you dropped your hands from her back to her thighs and you lifted her up in your arms for her to koala around your front, wrapping her legs around your hips and keeping her face buried against your shoulder.

You carried her carefully down the hall to your bedroom and set her gently down on the edge of your bed. 

You went to step away to grab clothes for her to change into but she held onto you, “Wait…”

“Okay, alright… I’m here,” you assured. You sat down beside her on the bed and she leaned against you.

“D-don’t leave,” her voice cracked as she spoke, “I don’t want to be alone tonight…”

“I won’t leave, Nae. I’m right here.”

There was another long period of silence where she just leaned against you and closed her eyes while you rubbed her back. She finally let you get up to grab clothes for her and then she asked for your help to change. 

You gently helped her out of her party clothes which bore the evidence of whatever it was that she had gone through and she put on one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of your plaid boxers that you often wore to bed. 

After that, you tucked her into bed and she reached for your hand, “please, stay with me.”

You held her hand, “I’ll stay. I promise.”

“Will you hold me?”

You nodded, “of course.”

You crawled into the bed behind her and wrapped yourself around her in a protective embrace. She held your hands tightly in hers and clutched them against her chest. You could tell that she was trying to match the pace of your breathing. 

“It’s okay…” you whispered, “I’ve got you…”

You didn’t want to be having the thoughts that you were having. You didn’t want to be thinking about how her hair smelled or how her skin felt or how much you’ve always wanted to cuddle her like this in your bed or how she looked wearing your clothes. It wasn’t right for you to be thinking about those things when she was having the hardest night of her life. You just needed to be a good friend right now.

Reneé shivered and whispered into the darkness, breathing your name gently. 

“Yeah?”

“I…” she began.

You waited for her to continue. You held your breath, not knowing, but hoping against all hope that she would finish that sentence.

“I…” she tried again, “... thank you.”

“Oh… yeah, you’re welcome… of course.” You squeezed her hand once more, unsure whether the squeeze was your way of saying it’s okay, I love you or goddammit please just say it or I’ll wait for as long as you need me to. Maybe it was all of the above. Maybe it was just goodnight. 

Either way, Reneé returned the squeeze with three pulses and then she fell asleep in your arms.

[sungbeam]

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW — act I, scene v

nonidol!hwang intak x f!reader

when summit poster boy hwang intak's car breaks down in the school parking lot, it sets off a chain of events that leads to you, someone he was perhaps always meant to find. the only problem is that the two of you are far from the ideal couple, and your peers are apt to keep that status quo.

▷ genre, chapter warnings. s2f2l, classism and discrimination, forbidden romance au, minimal swearing, angst, humor, mentions of grief and terminal illness, written in third person pov

▷ word count. 2.8k

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: whenever i come back to this series, i remember how hard it is to write it

SUMMER (RISING SENIORS).

Yn had not sent a picture back to Intak. In fact, she hadn't even opened his messages. Intak couldn't decide which was worse—being left on "read" or on "delivered." Both were equally quite horrible, but as the day went on with radio silence from her end, he continuously had to remind himself that she had responsibilities and a life. She couldn't be at his beck and call, and she certainly wouldn't ever entertain the idea of being so.

But one little text would have eased his mind. Just one, little text.

Intak flopped onto the couch in the living room of his house, the entirety of which remained just as cold and empty as it always was. In a way, the quiet was good because it meant that his father wasn't home, taking with him that thick, haunting presence of his. Intak sometimes imagined that he walked around with a massive cloud of fog clinging to his legs and feet, and that image had engraved itself into his head since he was an adolescent, more so now that his father's murky fog would soon consume Intak in all of those heavy expectations.

He lifted his phone up to catch a glimpse of the time. He would have to leave for that one dance class soon, the one that he and his friends had signed up for together to occupy themselves during the summer. If Intak wasn't forced to take over the company after his schooling, he would be dancing, or maybe even reading shit, like proper literature, and writing poetry about dead older brothers and forbidden friendships with strangers who felt closer to him than his own family.

He was tempted to text Yn just to check in. Something like 'hey bff i'm bored as hell and sad as fuck hbu' or 'miss u and worried about u text me back?' or god forbid, 'i've been trying to imagine what u look like but i have a feeling a picture won't do u justice.' God, he really needed to stop watching those cursed romcoms when he was bor—

Bzzzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzz.

Intak leapt out of his skin in surprise.

He reached into his pants pocket to withdraw Jaehyuk's phone. The notifications from Yn came in rapid succession at the top of the screen:

yer a wizard yn!: sorry i went mia for like a day

yer a wizard yn!: smth came up

yer a wizard yn!: cute pic btw :') ig i owe u a pfp too

yer a wizard yn!: *sent a photo*

Intak held his breath, then forced himself to turn away from the phone screen. Was he ready for this? Was he ready for her reveal? This felt like an invasion of privacy, especially with how carefully she kept her identity hidden the first few weeks they'd been texting each other. It hadn't been until recently that Yn had begun to let him learn things about her.

It wasn't like he forced her though… right? It was out of her own want and will. It was her choice and he—

He was going to fully indulge in that.

Intak finally opened up the full chat to view the messages she'd sent.

And lo and behold, there she was. It was a casual selfie, seeming to be taken in front of a window by the way the sun shone over her face in a gold-colored glow. She wore a dark T-shirt with a logo Intak couldn’t quite make out from the way her arms and hair were positioned. In fact, he could only see about half of her face from the way she hid the lower half behind her pulled-up knees. But her eyes crinkled enough that he could see that she was smiling.

The soft smile on his face was a stark contrast to the sharp palpitations of his heart in his chest. Before, he could never imagine the face he was speaking to across the phone—rather, it had always just been a person with blurred features. Now that he could put a face to the name, and the voice, and the character…

Intak saved the picture and set it as Yn’s contact photo. He wondered if he should have even been doing this since Jae didn’t even have a contact photo saved for her. (But now that she had sent it, it wasn’t like Intak was going to resist setting that photo as her contact, especially since it was an excuse to stare at it while he was texting her.)

jae’s phone: that photo is not fair that’s like… half ur face dude >://// /j

jae’s phone: but thank uuuuuuu i KNEW u were cute

He chewed on his bottom lip, quickly adding onto his previous texts since it seemed like Yn wasn’t going to reply back any time soon.

jae’s phone: ik ur the one who suggested swapping photos, but i hope u didn’t feel obligated to. ik u were never super comfortable w sharing personal info abt urself w me, but i’m genuinely really happy to get to know u better

jae’s phone: lol idk y that got kinda sappy ? but i hope everything’s good on ur end!!

jae’s phone: i’ve gotta go to a dance lesson rn tho so ttyl ynieee!!!!

Intak sighed as he forced himself to click out of his and Yn’s direct messages, and to haul his ass off the couch. He had, at multiple instances, contemplated why he felt so attached to Yn. Perhaps it was because she was so close to his brother and this truly was just his own kind of closure. Or it was something else, too.

Yn's eyes burned holes through the notifications that sat at the top of her phone screen. It had been several hours since Intak had sent them, and she knew exactly what they said. She'd even mentally written out and sent several replies, but never physically carried them out. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.

The heavy weight that had settled on her chest from a day ago still rested there. Usually, privileged shit Summit kids did to her and in front of her were annoying, but she'd learned to grow thick skin. She didn't know why this time affected her so poorly. Then again, the fact that neither Jongseob nor Shota had gotten over it could have contributed to her own mood, too.

Her brothers in arms had been quiet since then, barely speaking unless necessity prevailed. The shop had never been so quiet before, and even when customers and neighbors came by with a friendly word or joke, they would force a smile onto their faces or a laugh from their throats. She could hear the strain, the grudge and emotions tugging at the corners of their mouths.

"If I had the money…" Yn remembered hearing Jongseob muttering under his breath the night of the incident. She knew exactly what he was thinking then and there. All the bitterness in the negative space.

They'd all grown to have thick skin, but it was bound to crack at some point. They weren't made of steel, after all.

After a long, grueling day at the shop, Yn, Shota, and Jongseob returned to Yn's house to wash up for the evening. The walk home had been quiet, and she'd been itching to reach for her phone and finally open up Intak's messages…

She cleared her throat. "Go get cleaned up and meet me in the living room," she voiced aloud to the two of them as she unlocked the front door.

Jongseob grunted, "Why?"

"We're watching Clueless."

Shota let out a snort as Jongseob threw his head back in a loud groan. "You're shitting me. Any other movie than that one, Yn. We've watched that, like, fifteen times."

With her back still to them, she could let herself smile just a little. All she had been looking for was that reaction from him. "Okay, well, if you can be on the couch in fifteen minutes, then you can choose a different—"

She hadn't even finished what she was saying when the two of them bolted past her, exclaiming at each other as they raced for access to the closest bathroom. Yn laughed under her breath, nudging the door closed behind her with the toe of her shoe. She hadn't even been sure whether or not the two would stay here with her or not since they basically stayed shut up in the old extra bedroom instead of hanging out. Though they would have been in the house, it had sounded like no one else was home.

But now? Yn made her way into the kitchen to get dinner started. Hopefully she could get something on the stove by the time one of them hopped out of the shower. Knowing Jongseob though…

She estimated that it was about five minutes later that Jongseob's elephant stomps sounded down the hall, nearing the living room and kitchen at high speed. Seconds later, a blur of orange and white launched himself over the back of the couch. As she expected, it was Jongseob with that freshly showered glow, damp hair, and a white towel hanging around his shoulders.

Her amused gaze clashed with his, and though his face was pressed into a deadpan, she saw the glimmer in his irises. He told her, "We're watching Star Wars."

Yn grinned. "Deal's a deal, kid."

Right on cue, Shota came sliding into the living room with his dampened locks tied up and out of his face with a Hello Kitty hair tie he no doubt found in the drawers of the bathroom. She wondered how he found stuff like that, stuff that she had ditched so long ago when she was much younger. She raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m starting to think that neither of you actually use soap when you shower.”

“I’m productive when I’m given motive,” Shota replied, collapsing onto the couch next to Jongseob. She could already hear the tell-tale explosion of sound that was the Star Wars main theme.

It was several hours later when dinner was eaten, dishes were washed, and the lot of them were one and a half Star Wars movies in that Yn stared at her notifications again. Intak hadn't sent anything else since those last messages, and there was a distinct feeling of guilt stewing in the back of her brain. At this point, it overpowered any feelings of annoyance or bitterness from the other day's incident. It was always at evening hours when the overthinking started.

Intak had been good to her thus far, though, and it wasn't fair that she took out her annoyance on him. He had done nothing bad—a part of her countered with “yet.”

She could see the start of his messages: That photo's like half your face dude… I've got to go to a dance lesson though so…

It was all completely harmless, and yet, her heart pounded in her chest from not being able to fully read his reaction to her face reveal. Of course she cared what he thought. She chalked it up to the fact that Intak himself was a pretty face, and it was perfectly normal to be self conscious.

Yn raised her head for a moment when she caught a flash of quick movement from the TV, then felt a pair of eyes on her.

While Shota was curled up at the far end of the couch, Jongseob was seated next to her and saw who's messages sat at the top of her screen. The two of them connected gazes; he said nothing, showed nothing.

A different type of guilt rushed into her head.

Jongseob turned back to the screen, and she was back to square one.

The house was quiet by the time Yn tucked her friends beneath quilts on the couch. Her mom had come home sometime between Return of the Jedi and The Phantom Menace, then crashed immediately after disappearing into her room, leaving Yn to haunt the hallways of her house in the dark and silence by herself.

She perched on the edge of her bed with the light of her phone screen illuminating her face. There were those unread messages at the top of her screen again, yelling at her to just take a peak. There was no harm in seeing what he said—but there was. He would see the Read sign beneath his messages and think the worst.

With nothing else stopping her but her own thoughts, she tapped the notification.

The text chain opened up before her in full. There was nothing out of the ordinary, as she expected. He was just being his bright, sweet self here. Her lips pursed into a slight smile as she read over his sappy talk at the end; it was appreciated though.

But now it was a matter of replying.

He probably thought she was busy all day again, but the guilt of “punishing” him for something that people from his community did and not him personally was eating her up inside.

“Ahem.”

She stopped, eyes widening as her head shot up like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. A drowsy Jongseob stood in her doorway with his eyes at half-mast and his mouth widened in a yawn. Sometimes she forgot that her friend was still a kid—that they were all just kids. “Hey,” she whispered to him. “Did I wake you up or something?”

He shook his head and suddenly looked a lot more awake. “The text messages you got earlier,” he drawled, inclining his chin at her phone.

“Oh.” She glanced down at the screen, then back up at him. “Seob, I—”

“He's gonna hurt you, Yn.”

Her chest felt so hollow all of a sudden. What?

He folded his arms in front of himself, cupping his palms under his elbows. Jongseob's eyebrows furrowed together as if in thought or in an attempt to look firm. “He's gonna hurt you like Jae did.”

No, the hollow feeling was because her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. Everything felt like it was falling out from under her with that statement. Yn said slowly, gently, “Jongseob, Jae didn't mean to hurt us. He didn't mean to get sick. He couldn't control it, Seob. You know that that's not fair.”

Sometimes it was hard to not let the anger seep through into blame and misunderstanding. That was just the grief talking. When those thoughts resurfaced, it was just as difficult to deal with the resulting guilt of ever blaming them later on.

Losing someone was just devastating.

Jongseob sniffled though, and she backtracked on her previous thought. But this wasn't that, was it? “Yeah, well—it seems whether they do it on purpose or not, that's all they do up there: hurt people.”

Her mouth felt so dry then, so helplessly wordless. Her throat was just as voiceless. These kids—her friends—had gone through all that pain just as she had. She couldn't blame them most of the time because she knew where they were coming from.

Jongseob poked his tongue in his cheek. “I know you miss him.”

Yn's fingers curled around the edges of her phone, like she could hold onto whoever was on the other side.

“I miss him, too,” he said.

A stinging sensation erupted in the corners of her eyes and she reached up to staunch the tears like they were cuts, and they were bleeding.

“But no matter their intention, a ghost can only haunt,” he muttered. He let that thought simmer for a second before citing his source, “Got that one off of Pinterest.”

The last comment made a laugh sputter out of her mouth, wet but touched. She sniffled at the same time he did. “I was gonna say,” she said, her voice watery, “when'd you get so smart?”

“I've always been smart,” he scoffed. He exhaled, still lingering on the threshold before waddling over to where she was perched on the bed. Awkwardly, he brought his arms around her upper body and gently patted her back. “Is this helping?”

Yn wrapped her arms around him to reciprocate. “Yeah.”

“Thank god.”

A ghost can only haunt. Maybe it was how fast it had all happened that none of them really got proper closure or got to say goodbye. They would never get a chance to see him ever again, to tell him they felt something for him close to love, and enjoyed his company despite his being from the Summit. There was no chance they'd be invited to the funeral, and there was little possibility of ever visiting his grave. There were only memories and a phone number.

One day he was here, and the next… well the next, Yn was texting Intak. Was this history repeating itself, or would this ending turn into a new beginning entirely?

When they both pulled back from their embrace, Jongseob poked her cheek. “You know I never know what to do when you cry, right?”

She reached up to swipe her palm across her dampened cheeks. “Yeah. You did good, kid.”

That made the corners of his mouth curl up a bit. “I just don't want this guy to be another reason you cry.”

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[crispythehubcoon]

HELLO, THERE!

Crispy here! As I've made more and more roleplay blogs and gained more and more experience in the pokemon irl community, I've learned a few things. For one, I don't really like clogging my blogs with ooc messages. For another, sometimes communicating as the mun is necessary to help things go smoothly. And, most important of all, it's a pain in the butt to repeat the same announcement across 5+ blogs. So, I thought I'd solve all of those problems in one fell swoop by creating this blog! Here, you can find any blog of mine you might be interested in, ask me any ooc questions you like, and follow for ooc alerts/statements/commentary related to my blogs or my life. I hope this will help you out as much as it will help me!

Tags I will use:

#pinned - pinned posts from my blogs

#announcement - standalone posts that will communicate important things, including life events that might interfere with my blogging or any rule changes.

#ask - any ask I am sent here

#ask game - I'll store ask games here for later use. I don't reblog them to receive asks here unless stated otherwise! Feel free to reblog from here without sending an ask in return, I don't mind!

Trigger warnings will be tagged as I see fit. Feel free to ask me to tag anything! It will be in a triple format; #tw [trigger] #[trigger] and #[trigger] warning. Just to make sure no one sees anything they don't want to.

More tags will be added as needed :) enjoy your stay!

Blog Directory

@ballonleastadiumofficial - my interpretation of Bede from pokemon SWSH! He is a perpetually 15 year old trans boy who leads Ballonlea's gym with only moderate interference from Opal. The rotumblr populace is free to poke, prod, and annoy him as they please. Sometimes Opal, the gym trainers, or Bede's pokemon may make appearances on his blog.

Current arc: Bede is trying his hardest to deny the fact that he has a crush on his best friend. It isn't going well.

@gmax-butterfree - my Galarian bug type gym leader OC, Hemmi. They try their hardest to look cool and appeal to other trainers, but they are really awkward at heart. The blog explores their passion for bug type pokemon and insecurities about being in Galar's minor league.

Current arc: N/A

@pixieprince - my interpretation of Ortega from pokemon SCVI. He's here to speak his mind and deliver the hottest takes this side of the great crater. ...And maybe to be there for his friends, but don't say that part out loud. Feel free to strike up a conversation! He will probably act abrasive, but he doesn't totally mean it.

Current arc: Ortega has recently come into possession of both a Furfrou puppy and a newborn Milcery. Can he handle the responsibility?

@when-lechonk-learn-levitate - my Naranja-Uva student OC who loves all things that oink! Her name is Samrah, and her main concerns are growing up alongside her little brother, determining her path in life, and spreading the love for pig pokemon. Her enthusiasm knows no bounds, and she's itching for a friend to share it with.

Current arc: Samrah's scrambling to gather willing student participants for her to start a Lechonk Fan Club at Naranja-Uva. Maybe she can find some like minded trainers on rotumblr...?

@medicalmystery7 - a faller blog for Medic from Team Fortress 2! Dr. Ludwig has been spat out in the pokemon world by unknown means with no memory to fall back on... just a pocket full of syringes and a Pidove named Archimedes. Honestly, it's not the worst situation he's ever found himself in, and he's making the most of it by applying his ingenuity and general disregard for human decency toward pokemon battles.

Current arc: After being fired from his job at a Nacrene City pokemon center, Medic is hiding from the authorities at an undisclosed location in Unova.

@macrocosmos-social - a Chairman Rose blog meant to compliment @ballonleastadiumofficial. It's meant to allow Rose to answer questions that Bede would never be caught dead answering and shed some light on Bede's upbringing that led him to become the person he is today. Oh yeah, it's also meant to allow me to roleplay being an insufferable jerk. Exploring perspectives like that is fun. Here, Rose has bribed his way into getting internet access from jail and is making it everyone else's problem. He is using an old, failed corporate account designed by a public relations worker for Macro Cosmos long ago. That original creator of the blog, the Rotom in Rose's device, and Oleana may make brief appearances on this blog.

This blog is a villain blog and thus will act in cruel, antagonistic ways. In particular, Rose is noticeably classist and transphobic. He acts this way to blend into the narrative I have in mind for Bede. If this might upset you, please feel free to block! If it sounds interesting, please feel free to interact! I will tag anything I believe people might find upsetting, in particular #tw transphobia, #transphobia, and #transphobia warning.

Current arc: N/A

@beauty-abuzz - my interpretation of Burgh from pokemon BW2! He is Castelia City's eccentric, dreamy, and impulsive gym leader with a heart of gold. Currently, he is engaged to @elite-four-grimsley

Current arc: wedding planning!!!!

@pokemonworld-ology - A faller blog for the Lodger/Bormot from Knock-Knock by IcePickLodge! Coming from an isolated cabin deep in the woods, Bormot is a stubborn, matter of fact, and extremely troubled scientist who mysteriously emerged into the Slumbering Weald after taking a fateful walk through the forest. Now, he is staying as a guest in the home of Emelia, mother of Gloria, Galar's own champion, and trying to wrap his head around both pokemon as a whole and modern human interaction. Emelia and Gloria may rarely make appearances on this blog.

Current arc: Bormot is getting his first pokemon! ...Eventually. Once he fully grasps the concept.

OOC Notes

I do my best to keep my blogs inclusive, bipoc friendly, trans friendly, pro-Palestinian, and generally safe and friendly spaces!

If you disagree with any of these values, please move along! If I've unknowingly done anything to betray these values, please let me know immediately. I'm not perfect, but I'll always try to improve 🙏

No NSFW asks or interactions are permitted on any of these blogs

Non-negotiable, especially on blogs with muses who are minors. That said,

Any and all other interactions are welcome and encouraged!

If I don't get to your ask/reblog, it's more than likely for a personal reason, rather than you doing anything wrong. I struggle with many a mental illness, which makes staying on top of everything difficult. I love meeting new blogs and participating in other people's stories!

All of these blogs accept Pelipper Mail and In Character Anon Hate. Magic Anons are restricted to events only.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to send an ask with any questions you may have!

[ysmtttty]

Red Ferrari

Chapter 10

Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car

AO3 link Chapter 9 Chapter 11

Flipping through the emails in his phone, Eris waited for Azriel to return with their ordered coffee, which the courier should have brought, judging by his GPS in the delivery app.

Surprisingly, Morrigan still hadn't contacted him, maybe she was still searching for a new lawyer. Eris wasn't sure, but he suspected that most people were now cautious about becoming her attorney, since dealing with her had proven to be a doomed endeavor, and many had come to realize this even more.

Now that he and Azriel had seemingly cleared everything up and he had earned forgiveness, the realization of the problem with Keir hit him hard. According to the terms, Eris had to ensure that his father would agree to support whatever conditions were part of their deal, the details of which he hadn't been allowed to fully grasp over the years.

There were many problems with this, but the main one was that he really didn’t want to deal with Beron, especially over someone like Keir with his threats. Eris would have loved to tell both of them to go to hell and leave the country. Maybe start over somewhere where they wouldn't find him. But his loved ones were still here, and Beron definitely wouldn’t hesitate to threaten him through his mother. Keir, even more so.

And yet, he would have to call his father, maybe even persuade him. Eris hated such situations, always trying to avoid them entirely. A couple of times, Beron had been threatened through him, and it had turned out very badly for those daring idiots. However, something told Eris that this time it wouldn’t be so simple.

Why the hell did Beron even agree to this wedding scheme, which hardly promised him much profit?

Eris stared at the phone screen for a long time, his finger hovering over the call button. He didn’t want to hear that voice, didn’t want to let Beron know he needed his help—even if calling it help was a stretch considering that without dear old dad, Eris wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place—and he absolutely didn’t want Beron to know that Keir had threatened his life. Again—nothing good could come from that other than a bloody mess.

Still, he treated this conversation like ripping off a band-aid—the faster, the better.

One ring, two, five. Maybe he shouldn’t have called in the morning. Who knows, the old bastard might’ve decided to sleep in, after all, given his age…

"Eris?" came a gruff voice. Eris just gripped the phone tighter, reminding himself that his father was hundreds of kilometers away.

"Father," he greeted as politely as possible. "I'm calling about business."

Beron might have been disappointed in him if he had called just to ask how things were going.

"Speak," Beron said, getting straight to the point.

"Keir wants to be sure that you will uphold your end of the deal after my divorce from Morrigan," Eris explained bluntly, lacking the strength or desire to play mind games or figure out how to word it more softly or advantageously. This was also the first time he had confidently informed his father that he would definitely be getting a divorce. The divorce was now a fact.

"And what am I supposed to do with the information about his desires?"

Eris rolled his eyes. Of course, why make life easier with a simple “okay, son, I got it,” when he could continue acting like a self-proclaimed jerk.

"Confirm that you’re in."

"And why do you think I’m in?" A pause, during which Eris reminded himself that he had bought this phone two weeks ago and throwing it against the wall now would be stupid. Especially considering what happened the last time he went a whole day without a phone. "What did Keir do?"

"He kindly delivered that message," Eris replied sarcastically.

"Eris," Beron’s voice carried a warning. Eris thanked all the gods that this man wasn’t in the same room with him right now, because otherwise, this would have been unbearable. "I’ll get in touch with him."

And he hung up.

Eris still didn’t know if he felt relief or irritation, but at least it was something. At least now he didn’t have to worry about getting killed somewhere in an alley or, again, in his own parking lot.

He wondered where Azriel was with the coffee. Reluctantly, he got up from the bed, put on some lounge pants, and went to look for his mechanic.

"Finally!" a voice greeted him, belonging to someone who wasn’t Azriel at all. "You really do look terrible."

Eris glanced at Lucien, who was lounging on his couch with a cup of coffee that suspiciously resembled the one they had ordered from the nearby café.

"What are you doing here?" Eris asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You didn’t know he was coming?" Azriel asked, leaning against the wall. Eris looked at him and raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw that Azriel was wearing his robe. Not that he minded. "I grabbed the first thing I saw when he came in," Azriel nodded toward Lucien.

"I wish I could unsee that," Eris’s younger brother shook his head.

"A question for both of you," Eris looked at his brother, "what the hell are you doing here?" then at Azriel, "and why did you open the door without putting anything on?"

Azriel shrugged. "I was going to throw on a robe, but I didn’t have time before he opened the door—he had keys."

"It doesn’t matter," Lucien interrupted. "I wanted to say that you’re coming with me and Jurian to your house in the countryside. And I suspect it’s a brotherly bond that made me feel so strongly that you’d been beaten up here."

"I’m fine, thanks for the concern. Why do you have my coffee, and why are you making decisions about my country house?"

"Because I conveniently ran into your courier, who asked me to unlock the elevator for him, and when I found out the floor, I said I’d deliver it myself," Lucien shamelessly drank one of the coffees. Azriel held out the other to Eris in silence, who gratefully took it, took a few sips, and handed it back. "Nice that you two made up, very happy for you. But this wasn’t how I wanted to find out about it."

"Knock next time," Azriel advised.

"Put on some pants next time," Lucien retorted.

"The house, Lucien," Eris reminded him of his earlier question.

"You clearly needed to relax. I thought I’d turn this into a bachelor party to cheer you up and distract you from... well, now it doesn’t matter," he glanced at Azriel, who was watching all of this with barely concealed amusement. "But now I can tell Jurian that he can bring Vassa, and I’ll bring Elain, because, Azriel, wouldn’t you like to join us for a weekend in the countryside? Alcohol and food on my generous brother."

"Go to hell," said Eris.

"How convenient that I have no weekend plans," Azriel smiled. Eris shot him a withering look.

"Great," Lucien clapped his hands and stood up. "I’d stay and ask you about this," he circled his finger around Eris’s face, "but I won’t linger here any longer."

"Disappear before I demand the keys back," Eris shook his head.

"I’ll send the details later!" Lucien shouted as he quickly exited the apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Azriel burst out laughing. Eris groaned, clearly not thrilled with his younger brother’s sudden visit.

"You have a house in the countryside?" Azriel asked.

"Yeah, and at least five apartments around the city that I don’t use," Eris waved it off, heading to the kitchen to brew some tea. Damn, he forgot to buy coffee beans for the machine a few days ago. "Didn’t think you were a nature fan."

"I was kindly invited," Azriel smiled, approaching him from behind and hugging his waist, his nose buried in Eris’s neck as Eris tried to make tea. "Besides, your younger brother is funny. But how did you end up in his circle of friends? You seem like you’re from different age groups."

"Mutual acquaintances," Eris sighed, enjoying the small kisses Azriel left on his skin. "Jurian was initially my client, back when I was just starting out, and few people trusted me with their business. He trusted me. He hired me as his lawyer for several years, and very often, so we somehow became friends. And he is dating Vassa, Lucien’s friend and his girlfriend’s."

He turned around and kissed Azriel on the lips, who ran his hands over Eris’s chest with the same almost irritating caution as yesterday. Eris couldn’t get upset because normal people don’t usually get mad at their partner for caring about them.

"I forgot to ask yesterday, are we dating?" Eris asked.

"Yes, we’re dating," Azriel nodded and kissed him again.

Azriel left closer to noon after Eris received the fifth message in the tenants' chat about the concern over a smashed Volvo being left in their parking lot.

The rest of the day Eris spent working, wanting to finish everything in advance so he wouldn’t be distracted tomorrow, since they were apparently going with Lucien and his squad of friends. It was strange. But not the strangest thing happening in his life right now, so he could turn a blind eye and think, "shit happens."

A couple of document filings, a trip to the office to sign some papers, and waving off questions about the bruises. Eris expertly lied, saying he had taken up boxing in his spare time to relieve stress. No one suspected a lie since many people in his position did the same.

After what happened yesterday, Eris was twice as cautious in his movements. He constantly looked around, but the feeling of being watched had vanished. Eris now trusted his intuition twice as much, but since no danger was felt—or possibly it seemed like it because of his overwhelming exhaustion from all this chaos—he decided to allow himself to relax a little.

It might have been ideal to spend some time away from the city. It wouldn't provide a miracle of salvation, but it would allow him to mentally exhale and regain strength. Far from the bustle, stress, and divorce.

His lawyer wrote to him saying he had sent Morrigan another copy of the property division agreement. Eris replied that she wasn't in a position to represent herself at the moment and asked him to focus on more pressing matters, not wanting to waste one of his firm's best employees on this nightmare.

By the evening, Lucien sent him a picture from the store with a full cart of food, drinks, bags of charcoal, and more, with the price for all this luxury added below. He also mentioned that he and his friends had chipped in, and Eris just needed to pay for his share.

Knowing these idiots, Eris didn’t need to be a genius to realize they probably hadn’t even paid for half of it. Nonetheless, he sent the money. Better now for them than later regretting it being spent on Morrigan’s designer clothes if she takes what she wanted.

His father hadn’t reached out again. It both scared and relieved him at the same time. Eris wasn’t sure yet whether he wanted to hear "you can rest easy, Keir won’t bother you" because, on the one hand, he wanted it to be true, but on the other, it might mean Keir was lying in a ditch somewhere.

Late in the evening, Eris returned to his empty apartment, loosened his tie, and sighed heavily. These had been crazy days, and his body still ached from all the bruises, while fatigue continued to weigh him down. He only had enough energy to drink some coffee—thankfully, he had finally found the time to buy it at the store—and pass out because caffeine had somehow stopped keeping him awake. The problem might have been the non-stop hours of work, but Eris refused to believe that. It hadn't been such a big issue before, so why should it be now?

The next morning, his younger brother and friends, along with Azriel, burst into his apartment. Why the hell they all gathered this early and at his place was unclear. Eris seriously considered taking Lucien's keys because he preferred to start his morning with coffee, not a meeting with a bunch of students and Jurian. He had no complaints about Azriel’s presence.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jurian said, and despite Eris’s protests, gave him a tight hug. Eris wrinkled his nose, pretending not to enjoy the moment at all, while Azriel silently laughed at him from the hallway.

They were all dressed similarly today—sweatpants, hoodies, and jackets. Azriel in a leather jacket was a sight for sore eyes, and Eris wished they were alone so he could say that out loud.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Eris awkwardly patted Jurian’s back, and only then did he let go, smiling cheerfully.

“Lucien said you got into a fight. Didn’t think you could even do that. Back in the day, you should’ve at least hired people to take revenge,” Jurian noted, eyeing his bruises as if he had studied medicine enough to make any conclusions. Jurian had dropped out of medical school after the first year, so his medical knowledge was about the same as the average person’s—close to zero. Eris just waved him off, along with the very valid comment about hiring people.

“No questions about my face,” Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly,” Vassa remarked sarcastically. Eris just rolled his eyes and ignored her.

He and Vassa were on friendly terms. Every time Jurian invited him out for a drink, it ended with him calling her to pick Jurian up. In the early years, they were all still very young—Eris had just graduated, and Jurian had three citizenships and two restraining orders, which later required legal services. In celebration, he’d always bring out Cuban cigars—genuinely brought from Cuba—and order expensive drinks, back when Eris didn’t know he’d be the one paying at the end of the night.

In short, they had a wild youth, which Vassa didn’t like. Of course, over time she got used to Eris and realized that since he and Jurian were such good friends, she’d have to put up with him. A couple of years ago, Eris didn’t make that task easier for her, continuing to be an arrogant bastard and treating everyone outside his close circle like dirt—or so it seemed to most. Eris himself thought he didn’t treat people that way, and never had—he simply didn’t care enough to treat anyone poorly. Vassa strongly disagreed.

“Get out of the apartment,” Eris gestured, waving them towards the door. Lucien rolled his eyes and muttered about how Eris wasn’t a morning person, but he took his girlfriend by the arm and led her into the hallway. Jurian slowly followed with Vassa.

Azriel stayed behind, closing the door after them and smirking.

“Nice jacket,” Eris noted, running his hand up Azriel’s arm to his shoulder.

“You look good too. Sometimes I forget you own anything besides your suffocating suits and dozens of ties,” Azriel remarked sarcastically.

“It’s called style, but I doubt someone who wears dirty overalls and tank tops could understand.”

For that comment, he earned a quiet laugh and an eye roll.

“Are you still sure you want to go?” Eris asked, looking at him with exaggerated exhaustion. “We can still ditch them and stay here together.”

“Jurian and Lucien have been bragging the whole time about how great they are at grilling meat, and forgive me, but I’d sell my soul for good meat,” Azriel smiled so simply that it made Eris want to scream. Why did someone like him have to fall into his life?

“I can order the best restaurant steak if it’ll make you ditch these idiots and stay here with me,” Eris said, stepping closer. Azriel kissed him quickly, still smiling.

“And they also mentioned you have dogs, and I’d love to see them too.”

“Did they tell you that Jurian will be telling pirate-style stories? Or that those two lovebirds will be playing guitars and singing serenades? Or about the swarms of mosquitoes? Those are serious oversights,” Eris shook his head, but Azriel just laughed.

“I have experience enduring serenades, trust me,” he replied, kissing Eris again. Eris returned the kiss, burying his hand in Azriel’s hair and pulling him closer. “The rest is tolerable. Let’s go. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this group in a few minutes, it’s that they’re impatient.”

Eris groaned internally but quickly grabbed what he needed and followed Azriel. They opened the door just as Jurian raised his fist, ready to bang on it. Giving him a judgmental look, Eris led them to the parking lot.

As it turned out, Azriel had come in his car, and since they couldn’t all fit into one, Eris and he drove together while the other four rode in Vassa’s car. It was quite a long drive, as it was an isolated spot far from the city.

“I still think they won’t be offended if we turn around without warning,” Eris muttered, watching Vassa’s car overtake them, speeding ahead over the bumps.

“I don’t think you’re that against it,” Azriel laughed. “You’re just being dramatic. Besides, your younger brother is right—you need to unwind. As do I.”

The rest of the way, they drove with the radio on and didn’t talk much. Azriel hummed along to the songs, while Eris, like the lovesick idiot he was, listened intently, pretending not to pay attention, though he very much did.

When they arrived, Azriel’s eyes widened in disbelief. They were greeted by a huge three-story house with a tall fence and grounds at least three times the size of any other house around.

“You know, when I heard ‘country house,’ I was expecting, well, you know, a little cottage, something between a house and a shack. But definitely not this.”

Eris just laughed as he got out of the car to open the massive gates and let Azriel drive in and park. Loud barking, Jurian’s swearing, and female laughter immediately reached them.

As soon as Azriel got out of the car and heard it, he frowned a little and followed Eris. When they reached the source of the sound, they saw Jurian surrounded by six dogs, barking actively at him. But the moment they sensed Eris and heard his whistle, their attention shifted, and the whole pack ran toward him.

The aggressive barking turned into a happy one as several dogs stood on their hind legs, jumping on him and wagging their tails. Azriel watched all this with fascination and pleasant surprise because seeing Eris like this was rare. Sure, he made him laugh sometimes, definitely made him smile, but this joy on his face was something special. Different and utterly unique.

One of the dogs did eventually notice Azriel, and he saw how Lucien tensed up, already taking a few steps toward him, clearly intending to intervene if the dog turned aggressive toward the stranger. However, the dog simply leaned its front paws on Azriel’s torso and gave a happy bark. Azriel stroked the furry head and smirked as he looked up at the shocked faces of everyone around. Even Eris seemed surprised.

"Unbelievable!" Jurian exclaimed indignantly. "I’ve been coming here for years, bringing them the best food, and they still hate me. But he shows up, and they’re practically kissing him—" At that moment, the dog licked Azriel’s face, causing him to grimace and laugh. "Yep, even kissing him! This is just absurd!"

Jurian continued ranting about the unfairness of the world, while Azriel petted the friendly, large dog. Soon, other furry friends joined him.

“I’m starting to feel a bit jealous,” Eris quietly remarked, so only Azriel could hear.

“Of whom exactly?” Azriel asked with a grin, looking up at Eris while the dogs happily swarmed him. “Me or them?”

“Take a guess,” Eris grumbled. “Astra, come here,” he called one of the dogs, and although she seemed reluctant to leave Azriel’s side, she eventually went to him. Eris petted her, scratching behind her ear, which made her tail wag even more energetically. “My most unfriendly hound,” he said. “Once bit Jurian so badly he had to go to the hospital for stitches. I’ve never seen her be this nice to a stranger.”

Azriel realized Astra was the first dog that had taken an interest in him. Eris’s words puzzled him a bit, but also filled him with a sense of pride and satisfaction.

“Good girl,” Eris praised Astra as she followed one of his commands. He whistled, and the other dogs also left Azriel alone, giving him some peace.

“Who takes care of them while you’re in the city?” Azriel asked as they walked toward the kennel, with the dogs obediently following Eris.

“I have people for that,” Eris shrugged. “They’ve been looking after my dogs since I was a kid, so I pay them to keep doing it now. I don’t get to come here often, so they live in the guest house on the property. Of course, we always let them know if we’re coming, and they usually leave for that time.”

“Isn’t it sad to leave them for so long?”

“It’s not like I’m crying without them,” Eris scoffed, though when he turned to look at his loyal companions, something soft flickered in his gaze. “But I used to be here more often. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll quit and move here for good.”

Azriel couldn’t help but imagine it. He and Eris in this country house—Azriel tinkering with his motorcycle in the garage for the thousandth time, while Eris wandered around the property grumbling about the dogs trampling the flowerbeds, only to later pretend he didn’t enjoy playing with them.

Damn. That was too far, too reckless to imagine their future like that. If they weren’t already outside, Azriel would’ve needed to step out for some fresh air.

“You okay?” Eris asked, apparently noticing the change in his expression. “I hope you’re not allergic to dogs to the point where you’ll die, because the hospital’s far, and I’d rather not have to bury a body in the backyard.”

“How sweet of you to think of me,” Azriel replied sarcastically. “How often do you bury bodies back there?”

“More often than I’d like,” Eris smirked, playing along.

Astra barked happily again, nuzzling her nose into Azriel’s palm.

“Someone’s being extra affectionate today,” Eris noted.

“You really are jealous,” Azriel teased. Eris only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

While they were playing with the dogs, the others moved the groceries from the car into the house. Elain and Vassa busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing salads and snacks, while Lucien and Jurian rummaged through the garage, looking for the grill and dragging it outside.

Azriel, in the meantime, tried to remember the names of the hounds and learn to tell them apart.

“I swear, these three are identical,” he muttered. While some of the dogs were distinguishable by unique spots on their fur or ear shapes, three hounds looked absolutely identical.

“You’ll learn to tell them apart by their behavior,” Eris calmly responded, petting one of the identical hounds.

“How did you choose their names?” Azriel asked out of curiosity, tossing a ball he found on the property for the dogs to chase. “Astra, Ember, Lyra, those make sense. But Stormbringer?”

“I was fourteen,” Eris shrugged. “He’s the oldest of them all—I named the others when I was a bit older. But back then, I wanted a dramatic, cool name. And look at this rascal,” a soft smile touched his lips as he scratched behind the ear of the coal-black hound. “He’s totally a Stormbringer.”

Azriel chuckled, reaching out to scratch Stormbringer’s ears as well. The dog leaned into his touch, eyes closing in contentment. “I guess he does look like a Stormbringer,” Azriel admitted, watching the hound’s calm demeanor.

Eris gave a soft laugh, almost nostalgic. “He was a bit of a terror when he was younger. Used to chew up anything he could find—furniture, shoes, you name it. But he’s mellowed out a lot. Still, the name stuck.”

“Was he your first dog?”

“No, there were others,” Eris replied quietly. “I’ve had dogs for as long as I can remember. Originally, they belonged to my mother, but once she noticed how much I loved them, we somehow convinced my father to keep them all. Growing up with them… it was hard to lose them.”

Azriel placed a hand on his shoulder, then moved it to his cheek. Eris leaned into the touch.

“Sorry, this was supposed to be a lighthearted conversation, no depressing stuff,” Eris muttered, closing his eyes as if mentally scolding himself for the somber turn.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Azriel said softly.

“At some point, the hounds were the only ones around,” Eris glanced at the dogs playing on the lawn, chasing the ball and trying to steal it from one another. “So it hit harder when they were gone.”

Azriel didn’t press further, and Eris didn’t continue, instead grabbing Azriel’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

Later, they helped Elain and Vassa carry the food outside, setting the table in one of the three gazebos scattered around the yard. Lucien and Jurian were still standing by the grill, now handling the meat and arguing about whether to add more coals or leave them as they were, in fear of burning everything.

Eris’s hounds ran around Jurian, barking at him, and Azriel suspected they just enjoyed scaring him. They seemed to do it with some kind of amusement, and Eris watched with the same amusement, making no move to call them off, allowing the dogs to torment Jurian to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“They’re going to bite him,” Vassa shook her head. Elain watched the dogs curiously—Eris’s hounds never seemed to bother her either. But Eris had simply remarked that Elain was like a Disney princess, with a magical connection to animals, which is why they left her alone. Lucien had long complained that dogs hadn’t accepted even him right away but once they saw Elain, they all suddenly became so cuddly and soft.

“Only if he deserves it,” Eris replied, turning away from Jurian to glance at his phone. A few emails still awaited his response.

“You know they don’t need a reason,” Vassa continued.

“They need a reason. So, if Jurian wants to keep his limbs intact, he’ll just avoid teasing them like last time,” Eris grinned sarcastically. Azriel suppressed a laugh.

He watched the exchange with a faint smile on his face, noting how the dynamic between them all seemed so easy and natural. It was a rare sight to see Eris so relaxed, even playful, as he teased Vassa and kept a watchful eye on his dogs. The whole scene felt almost like a family gathering, where everyone had their roles to play, even if some involved scaring poor Jurian half to death.

"Eris, please," Vassa said with a playful reproach, though a hint of concern crept into her voice. Meanwhile Elain arranged vegetables on plates, occasionally glancing toward the guys as if to make sure the dogs weren’t bothering Lucien.

“It’s fine,” Eris said, not looking up from his phone, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s weird for him to be scared of dogs at his age. He’s a big boy; he’ll manage. Until there’s another fire, I’m not calling the dogs off.”

“Another fire?” Azriel asked with curiosity and amusement. Elain giggled in response.

“It’s almost a yearly tradition,” she explained. “Don’t tell them, but we keep track of how often it’s Lucien’s fault versus Jurian’s.”

“Don’t forget, you’re part of that competition too,” Vassa smirked, handing a plate of snacks to Azriel, who eagerly took it and, for some reason, served both himself and Eris, who wasn’t paying attention while typing something on his phone.

Azriel raised an eyebrow at Vassa’s words. Elain shrugged lightly. “There was that one time the oven malfunctioned, and the brownies caught fire. Hardly a real fire.”

The four of them turned again toward Jurian’s outraged shouts as he cursed Eris for not calming down his monsters. Eris pretended not to hear, while Vassa shook her head, Elain giggled quietly behind her hand, and Azriel and Lucien watched with open amusement as Jurian flailed his arms, trying to defend himself.

“They’re just playing,” Lucien said through laughter, but Jurian flipped him off, told him to fuck off, and continued to ward off the fluffy beasts.

The dogs eventually tired of their game with Jurian and settled down near the table, clearly content to be around their human companions. Azriel bent down and petted one of the hounds, who responded to the affection by nuzzling her nose into his hand, as if asking for more.

“Why don’t you scold Azriel for spoiling your dogs?” Vassa teased with a smirk.

Eris glanced from Azriel to the dogs, then to her, shrugging. Elain whispered something to Vassa about double standards as she knelt down to scratch one of the dogs behind the ear.

“I don’t understand why I trust my ass to you,” Jurian grumbled as he returned to the table, sitting next to Vassa while Lucien stayed by the grill. “You can’t even save me when I need it most.”

“Funny, I thought you knew I save asses for money,” Eris replied with a smirk.

As Jurian continued to curse at him and the hounds barked from their spots, clearly unhappy with the insults directed at their master, Azriel stood up and walked over to Lucien, intending to help him now that Jurian had left.

Not that keeping an eye on the meat was a monumental task, but it always felt right when more than one person was in charge of it. Lucien chuckled as he watched Jurian try not to hide behind Vassa whenever Eris’s dogs barked at him, and he looked at his girlfriend with a special tenderness as she shooed the dogs away from Jurian, even though she was laughing the whole time.

“Thanks for coming,” Lucien suddenly said, surprising Azriel as he turned to face him. “Eris hasn’t gone anywhere with us for a long time, and lately, he’s been more of a bastard-lawyer than himself.”

“Are you implying this cliché that I bring out the best in him?” Azriel asked with a teasing smile.

“Oh no, he’s still a bastard, even with you around,” Lucien laughed. “But… as cliché as it sounds, he’s happier now. Even if it’s not immediately obvious through all the sarcasm and snark. There’s a subtle difference you have to know to notice.”

“I’m glad,” Azriel said quietly, his smile softening as he glanced over at Eris. “Really glad.”

“I’d love to play the protective sibling and say something like ‘don’t hurt my brother,’ but I doubt I could ever top the speech Nesta gave me when she found out I was dating her middle sister,” Lucien shook his head, and Azriel chuckled.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of food, drinks, and stories about everything under the sun, especially since Azriel was the new face in the group, and Jurian and Lucien were particularly eager to tell him as much as possible in one night.

As morning approached, the group started to trickle back into the house, leaving Azriel and Eris as the last ones outside. Eris had fallen asleep, resting his head on Azriel’s shoulder, and Azriel remained because he was trapped—two hounds lay at his feet, snoring peacefully, while another lay on the bench beside him, with her head resting on his lap. And then there was Eris, who had dozed off against him.

The task of extracting himself without waking anyone turned into a bit of a challenge, taking Azriel longer than expected to figure out how to manage it. Eris eventually stirred, mumbling something incoherent. But it was impossible to take his drunken, sleepy grumbling seriously, so Azriel just smiled and helped him inside.

“Left door to the right,” Eris muttered.

“I don’t think that’s useful information,” Azriel remarked, realizing there couldn’t possibly be a left door on the right.

“Smartass.”

Laughing quietly, Azriel found an empty bedroom and decided to stay there as well. Not that he was keen on wandering around the dark house in search of another room. Plus, the prospect of staying with Eris was far more appealing. So, after undressing and settling under the blanket, Azriel comfortably wrapped his arms around Eris from behind, pressing his nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling the scent of alcohol, charcoal, and that now-familiar cologne.

tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria

[hozukitofu]

not a ship post but how funny would it be for people to mix shino and kiba's names up? at some point people give up and call them by 'shiba' just because it's guaranteed to send both kids running (we are talking genin-age).

tsume at some point: shi - ki - argh whatever SHIBA!

shino and kiba tuning into a very old summoning technique - call your kids the wrong name jutsu: THAT'S NOT MY NAME!!

bonus fun facts

tsume and hana had genuinely mixed up shino, kiba and akamaru. shino by virtue of his association with kiba had been called akamaru more times than his name. he's used to it

kakashi has a ninken named shiba that runs loose and he doesn't genuinely want to summon kibashino but somehow they've been trained to react to the name so kakashi is walking the street calling for shiba (the dog) and two teenagers (shiba - shino and kiba - unholy duo) turn up like 'you called?'

people who haven't met shino or kiba before think shiba is their name

shino and kiba have called each other shiba completely on instincts and now they just sigh and move on

it was funny when they were 12 but now naruto can't tease kiba anymore because kiba hypes up shino like you wouldn't believe. every team needs a cool guy and kiba nominates shino for this title (he literally told everyone but shino and hinata)

actually convenient to summon all three of them (akamaru is now part of the shiba bundle). imagine you're out in a field then suddenly there's a dog, a dog ninja and a bug ninja summoned from thin air. i'd retire

easier to shift blame. kiba played this card well into adulthood. he's perfected 'did you mean to call for shino or kiba?' and when people try to deliberate this he would disappear

shino's kids at the academy call him 'shiba sensei' and it stuck. they think shino's legal name is shiba aburame

kakashi somehow worked out a deal with akamaru and occasionally takes the massive dog out for a walk with all his 8 dogs (sometimes even without kiba knowing). when asked, he makes sure to introduce akamaru as shiba 2.0 and akamaru would nod and shake (why does he have two dogs name shiba? why not?)

it's listed in bingo books under aliases and as someone who have to endure bureaucracy weekly, making changes is akin to hell so people leave 'shiba' where it is. the trouble is that both shibas get in a rotten mood if they hear 'are you shiba?' from an enemy because that should really never leave village gossip

kiba very seriously said one day that if they get married it would be mr shiba aburame or shiba inuzuka x2 (think mr and mrs taylor lautner) and shino gave him fleas

mirai doesn't know who is who but she does know shiba. shino will let her have that one up until the age of 3

a lot of people just assumed they got married somewhere along the way? anbu delivering messages for kiba sometimes would find shino who's dead on his feet and would receive the message like it's for him. ANBU: are you mr inuzuka? shino who is too tired to correct the joke at this point: yes i am. people call kiba mr aburame in the same vein except kiba takes it with more fanfare

tsume wasn't that happy they eloped without her knowledge but shibi also genuinely doesn't know what's going on and he's not going to ask shino, so they roll with it and have family dinners between the two clans every fortnight and the shiba trio don't register this as anything unusual

im southeast asian and my aunt was a teacher so the spouse of a teacher is also a teacher by association. what this means is that kids also call kiba sensei. inuzuka sensei. shiba sensei. kiba who had never taught in his life after a child incorrectly identified him as married to his best friend and also his first name: yes sensei is here. how can i help you my child

when they do get married they were threatened by the clan elders to actually say kiba (shiba) aburame (he is a second son and the aburames love akamaru) and shino likewise dutifully put (shiba) on his actual legal marriage certificate

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok Hermes (headcanons) 🔞

It came out a little chaotic... I got lost in halfway. If I'm making any significant mistakes, feel free to tell me.

SFW That guy is like a walking enigma. He behaves elegantly and kindly, always has excellent manners, not to mention his perfect tact, but something in your gut tells you it's not entirely sincere. Don’t get me wrong, you aren’t that perceptive: Hermes letting his perfect image… loosen up a bit. It’s funny. He always says something almost innocent as if he learnt what innocence means yesterday. He likes playing these kind of sweet games where you both know he isn’t honest and you try your best to expose him. If you manage to succeed, forget about praises or any other reward. Hermes would just smile or pretend innocently how unexpected that was, eh… I believe Hermes doesn’t have his type. The only condition that really matters is if a person can intrigue him. He likes challenges or being the challenge. Get his attention and keep fuel curiosity. Doesn’t matter if you are goddess or human, he would be genuinely impressed if anyone surprise him with something. That doesn’t happen often. If he catches some sort of feelings towards someone, nobody would knows. Yes, Hermes is nosy, always knows what’s happening in others’ lives, but he’s way too clever to give even the slightest hint that something is going on in his love life. For Hermes falling in love is a game but whoever falls first - loses. So romance with him is slow burn kind. I allow the possibility of enemies-to-lovers trope. If, hypothetically, some minor pantheon feuded with Zeus and Hermes would be sent to deliver the threat so that they know their place-… I meant message with some kind of advice, he might come face to face with s/o. The conversation may not be spicy, but it won’t be nice either. Full of subtexts, small provocations and fake smiles, everything on the verge of politeness. Hermes would come back without a scratch, but it definitely didn't go as expected. If at the end both sides find some reasonable compromise, Hermes and s/o most likely would end up seeing each other more often. Maybe because of their duties, maybe because they happen to be in the right place and time. Half the time, they'll have their small banters. Usually Ares is part of them because he overheard something - in his opinion - disrespectful and he tries to backup his brother, but he’s so incompetent that even he realizes it himself. At that point it’s usually too late for prideful man as Ares to call it off so Hermes has to come in a clutch and safe his butt. And no - Ares never learns from his mistakes. The next day he would fall into the same trap again… Sometimes it even leads to situation where everyone is against everyone. Hermes won’t be playing on violin just for s/o, but if she joins him during the play, he won’t mind her presence. In fact, he would like to talk about it afterwards. It works both ways - he won't be pushy either, but he would be kindly interested if she mentions her hobbies and is willing to share. The tension between them builds slowly over time. They both know that the other feels the same, but they don't act on it. I think it would go from like zero to hundred in a moment. Single spark and suddenly they kiss and touch each other without hesitation. It's hard to tell if they would become an official couple. They might as well be in open relationship or just friends with benefit.

NSFW I see him as a switch. He is used to serve Zeus and others so probably feels a need to be in charge and take care of a lover. On other hand, if you insist to be top and just tell him to relax, he’ll accept the offer. He secretly likes being care of but would never admit it. It’s new to him - be able to just empty the mind like that. I think he has a thing for long neat legs. I don’t know why. It’s nice addition, like the icing on the cake. He loves having them around his waist or placed on his arms when he basically fold you in half. Hermes likes to talk during act. He’s one playful guy. Telling you what he’s about to do, a bit of dirty talk here and then, definitely some praises. He has really good voice for that and knows how to use it against you. He’s pretty creative and open to suggestions. As long as you aren’t in pain, Hermes is up to anything. He doesn’t have his routine, just goes with the flow. Sex with him is rare, he’s busy man, that’s why he wants to make the best use of that precious time just between you two. Top notch in aftercare, hands down. That’s like his natural environment. He always makes sure you’re comfortable. Massage, bath, breakfast or any other form of tenderness you can think of.

I was woken up by intense smell and strange, omnipresent wetness. I opened my puffy eyes and once I realized I’m in the water, guided by instincts and fear, rapidly tried to get up. — Shh, calm down — I heard right next to my ear. Someone’s slender hands surrounded me in waist, forcing me to stay in sitting position. I let out a surprised sigh but didn’t oppose. I looked over my shoulder to see Hermes’s calm face. Leaning against his chest, I could feel the warmth radiating from him. — Where-re we… how… — I mumbled not fully awake yet. — You passed out — Hermes explained. Memories of our last ,conversation’ flashed back to me, and then my face exploded with heat. An egg could have been fried on my cheek. I was hoping that Hermes didn’t notice my embarrassment. Pathetic daydream… He knows everything about everyone before others. — Oh… I didn’t have to turn around to see his smile. — Judging by your body language, you didn’t seem bored with our experience. That’s why I took it as a complement. — Hermes pretend to be lost in thoughts, his voice was on the verge of innocence he imitated so well. — Whatever you like. — I gave up. He had upper hand here. — Do I interpret it correctly? Am I sensing submissiveness? — No… — Sulky mood then? — I don’t have strength for that… — That’s not very alike you. — I felt his chin on the top of my head. — Perhaps I should’ve thanked you for all these sweet gifts you gave me. I sighed. Something in his voice awaken me completely. — How much I hate… — I turned to face him. — Yes? — Hermes enticed me. I could see sparkles of joy in his eyes. — … how unbearably witty you are. — I finished angry. The corners of his lips lifted a bit. — Thank you — he said calmly. I just shook my head and came back to old position. We sat in silence. My mind went to previous events that leads me to this situation. I may have started our little tête-à-tête, but he was the one who dragged it to breaking point. I remembered his nimble fingers, smooth voice as he whispers to my ears, gentle and tender gestures, the patience, and finally his steady, firm thrusts as he filled me over and over. I lost track of time, at some point everything stopped when Hermes was playing with my body in so many different ways - from the most ordinary, to extravagant, to promiscuous positions. Being at his mercy was… pleasant. — That was very nice — I whispered. — Yes — he admitted silently, next to my ear. Whether he really thought so, or whether his impeccable manners spoke through him, I will probably never know. Still, I felt absolutely no need to worry about how I fared compared to his other lovers. I was just enjoying the moment.

[nrdmssgs]

TF 141 + Nikolai, Zhar and Riot playing monopoly

Masterlist

Riot is an OC of my beloved @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

Zhar is my OC

Captain John Price

Sets the ground rules: no fighting, no yelling, no abusing anyones national slang, keeping firearms outside the common room. He knows, that at some point all the rules will be broken, but it's only fair, that his people know in advance, why will he ground them later.

Plays simple and safe. Others think, this will be the end of him, but Price is actually one of three people, lasting till the very end of the game/

Starts a game, mumbling "any of you, muppets, gets that 'get out of jail for free' card - I'm complimenting it with a 'get escorted right back by Captain Price' card". Ends up getting all free jail passes himself, never uses them, enjoying his gaming pauses with a cigar puff or a sip of whiskey.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

The first one to start suggesting others to form an alliance. Convinces Gaz, almost convinces Ghost.

Seems to buy stuff super-randomly, but he actually has a pretty good strategy, and he calculates every move with a demon-speed.

Lets others not pay him on his properties, if they are willing to try to repeat some Scots proverbs after him. Almost everyone fail.

Bargains so furiously as if his life depended on it.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

He actually hoped for a quiet, relaxed evening with his friends. Starts regretting a decision to take part in this chaos the very next moment, Soaps insults start rumbling over the desk.

Ends up teaming with Soap, so that Ghost doesn't do any real harm.

Voice of reason. Encourages everyone to relax and just have fun. Because of this, everyone at the table begins to suspect that Kyle has a secret, sinister plan.

Tries to explain to others, that they're breaking all the rules simultaneously, but fails to deliver the message and just watches this hell unravel.

Simon Ghost Riley

Does his best to stay as neutral as Switzerland.

Deep inside, loves every single person sitting beside him, but is on the verge of strangling some of them alive.

Nikolai

Devastated by the fact, that nobody wants to team up with him. Finds his ways to almost every other player nevertheless.

Temper, negotiator, fixer - he is not shy to use all his skills at the table.

Somehow bargains favors for real services or goods. Everyone is pissed, but Nik has an offering, that can't be refused for every single 141 member.

Lets ladies (aka Zhar and Riot) to roam around his properties free. Others believe, it's just a chivalry, but Nikolai is not completely innocent.

Zhar

"Let me be very clear from the start: if you invited me only to look after Nikolai - I'm doing that only on the Chimera base. When I'm with Prices gang - I'm on vacation."

Warns everyone to not team up with Nikolai. "Trust him - and you will be facing real charges tomorrow morning. If this guy isn't planning international fraud - he must be sleeping." (Nik: "She's just being dramatic, I behaved for the whole last week, I promise!")

Overall tries to spend a quality time and just chills out by Kyles side, while Johnny starts a new banter and Ghost is about to throw him to some far corner of the room.

Carelessly uses her 'pass Nikolais streets for free' prerogative, until he completely eases her of her purse on a late stage of game.

"Ok, I guess, this is the end of the game for me. I'll go make some tea." "Not so fast, nebo. You paid back only a half of your debt. The rest will have to be given... in other ways." "... Captain, would you mind if I take a sip of your whiskey?"

Riot

Good news: everybody love her dearly, bad news - she is in the mood to win this game one way or another.

Riot and Soap are besties. Kindred souls. Two pieces of one chaos. But today they somehow end up on different barricades. Each too stubborn to give a quarter to the other.

So the main conflict are those two, gathering allies around them. Ghosts manages to stay neutral.

Riot ends up pairing with Nik, who is just genuinely happy to help his little ray of sunshine (and make Zhar his debtor).

Bonus

Price, getting back to the table with a full glass: "What the hell are you two doing? Why is nobody stopping you?"

Nikolai and Riot, applying torn orange stick-it notes to Prices properties: "We are rising street riots!"

Price: "...why am I doomed to end the game with you two teaming against me and others fallen asleep?"

[cellarspider]

3/30: Meet David

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to the movie I want to bite down on with all of my teeth, Prometheus.

This time, we meet a man so bored he has invented new solo sports and started doing his hair like his blorbo, T.E. Lawrence. 

Meet David (Michael Fassbender). He’s implied to be a little over two years old, and he’s been completely alone for the vast majority of his life.

Actually, I lied. The movie first wants to throw another small strain on our suspension of disbelief: David has a VR visor he can use to view the dreams of the human crew in suspended animation. This is technically a plot point, and thus it is delivered with all the grace of this deer.

I cannot emphasize enough how clunky the movie becomes when plot or deliberate character arcs are being communicated through dialog scenes. 

We find out from dream-peeping that Elizabeth Shaw’s father (horror actor Patrick Wilson) was a devout christian of some variety, possibly a missionary, and her mom  died when she was young. She was given a cross necklace, which we see in blurry montage-o-vision before David wanders off.

We see David’s routine: Pick up tiny specks of dust, send out first contact messages and receive no response, perfect the lonely sport of solo bicycle-riding shootout, eat android breakfast and take a Proto-Indo-European language lesson, watch Lawrence of Arabia (1962) while dying his roots, quote the most Definitely Not Suffering line to himself over and over again as he does his hair like Peter O’Toole and wanders the halls, waiting for something to happen. “The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.”

David is going to later profess to have no emotions, but I think that given the chance, he would at least admit his enclosure needs enrichment.

This is one of the strongest scenes in the movie. David is a novel creation of humanity, and he has been left alone, with only the memories and dreams of humans to extrapolate off of. He has been abandoned without thought for his needs, stuffed down into Plato's Cave. We don’t know yet whether the people on the ship see him as a person, but we know they’re thoughtless in how they’ve treated him. He’s bright, he’s inventive, he’s chosen a way he wants to be seen, but he’s seen by no one. 

I’m sure this is going to turn out great for everybody.

And as a side note, while I didn’t know it at the time, David’s language tutor is the actual historical linguist that they employed for the movie, Anil Biltoo. His and Fassbender’s pronunciations were strong enough that even a hobbyist in linguistics could tell that they were really, really trying to get it right. They even reference Schleicher’s fable, the first piece of text anyone ever created from reconstructed Proto-Indo-European. This level of nerdy detail made me excited.

Side note to the side note, Biltoo also has an introductory textbook on Sanskrit you can buy, if you’re a maniac like I am.

This scene kept part of me hopeful for the rest of the movie, because it’s so strong. The “not minding that it hurts” line is a little on the nose, but overall it has the feel of something that could be expanded into an extremely melancholy short film. Or, hell, a Tarkovsky-esque feature film. Moon (2009) could be another point of comparison. In any case, this scene gives you a little space to feel all the quiet suffering of David’s existence. 

But unfortunately for the movie as a whole, this sets David up as the most sympathetic character. I personally had already been drawn in by the promotional “advert” for the David-8 model android (see part 1). Now I was invested in this particular David’s story. The rest of the film didn’t manage to yank back much sympathy for anybody else. 

Because the general vibe I soon picked up from the rest of the crew was that they were absolute hooting jackasses.

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Sources alt-text facts:

1. https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/how-ron-perlman-nearly-ruined-the-alien-resurrection-basketball-shot/  2. https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0766970/?ref_=ttfc_fc_cl_t50