#and then we slap social anxiety on top of that and you have a great combo lmao

[georgespaniel]

i am sorry if you ever spoken to me and i've been very awkward i struggle with social interaction a lot </3

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + five

authors note: soooo, i both hate and love this one. can't tell if i'm just being super hard on myself, but it feels flat and a bit boring, but i also know if i keep messing with it, i'll never feel wholly satisfied, so here is the best version i could come up with!

it does include more of roman's background though so....there's that at least lmao

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

cw/tw: sexual harassment, language, violence, ptsd episode (dissociation, avoidance, breakdown), torture

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

words: 8k

Solana has come to the realization that training isn’t entirely awful.

Or maybe it’s the fact that along with training, she’s allowed the chance to socialize, to be around other people and learn to not be so nervous all of the time. Naomi is a great person for that, bubbly and naturally personable. She’s created such a welcoming space that has left Solana feeling less and less nervous.

A couple weeks into training, Solana also feels like she’s growing more comfortable in her learning. It’s still the very basics, a lot of focus on flexibility, but it feels good. It feels almost relieving to be able to learn certain skills and tips that she can use to maybe one day defend herself. 

To maybe one day be able to take care of herself.

Or maybe some dreams are just too big to wish for.

It’s the end of her session with Naomi, and Solana is in the women’s locker rooms, having just finished her shower. She’s in her head a bit, mentally going over what she’s going to make Roman for dinner.

He’s been gone more often than not the past couple weeks, and she’s torn on that. On one hand, it’s nice not to be around a man who she’s supposed to be figuring out a way to kill, a man whose presence alone creates an additional layer of anxiety on top of the pre-existing baseline that is her everyday anxiety 

But…..

But, there’s also a part of her that….that wouldn’t be too opposed if he was around more. Being alone in the big house also creates a space of anxiety. If…if he was present more, maybe she could learn how to interact with him.

Could learn him.

It’s this strange thought process that’s so confusing and almost overwhelming for her that it keeps her from noticing the pending danger lurking just steps away.

“Hey, Solana.”

Solana gasps loudly, spinning around, her eyes widening at Austin Theory who stands before her with that same predatory smile. She opens her mouth to scream, but she’s too slow. 

Austin backs her against the lockers and slaps his hand over her mouth. His other hand moves to pin her hands over her hand. Instantly, her heart is beating out her fucking chest, an intense weight of dread anchoring her down. 

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed. 

“Always so damn jumpy. All we wanna do is get to know you....”

It’s almost perfect timing when another man appears, Grayson. But, it’s when he sees Austin and Solana that he frowns, walking over, “man, what the hell are you doing?”

Austin rolls his eyes, laughing. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch. It’s just a little fun.”

“This isn’t funny, Austin. If Reigns finds out—”

“What the fuck is he gonna do, huh?” Austin scoffs, gaze returning back on Solana who has her eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re not going to say anything to him anyway, are you?” 

Solana gasps, breathing uneven as Austin lowers his hand to tug on the knot of her towel just enough to loosen it but not enough to undo it. Regardless, it’s that one act that truly immobilizes her because she’s no longer standing before this man as a grown woman.

She’s that 12 year old little girl completely unaware of what night of horrors is about to be unleashed on her, the way an unspeakable act of evil perpetrated on an innocent child is going to lead her down a dark, depressing path.

And she’s frozen, frozen in time, forever stuck in that state of suffering. 

Grayson’s eyes fall on Solana, seeing that she’s almost no longer present, dissociating, and that seemingly freaks him out even more. He tugs on Austin’s shoulder. “You had your fun, mate. Let’s fucking go.”

Austin has never been one to listen to others. Ever. But in a testament to his cruelty, Solana’s lack of reaction, lack of struggling and displaying helplessness in front of him wanes the enjoyment. He doesn’t get off as much, doesn’t feel as empowered as he does by making people feel small.

So with a scoff and not an ounce of influence from Grayson in his ear, he releases her, stepping back with a smirk as she instantly moves her arms over her chest. 

“Relax, Mrs. Reigns.” She’s anything but, and it brings a smile to his face. It’s so fucking easy to get her unnerved. “Just messing with ya, that’s all.”

There’s more distant talking, snickering and combatting with someone speaking quietly but urgently. Solana can make out part of that as she gradually returns to a state of awareness. Enough to where she’s eventually cognizant of the fact that they’ve left, that she’s alone, that they no longer pose an immediate threat.

But, they do. They do, because what if they come back?

Chest still tightening, breathing still erratic, Solana rushes over to the door, shaking hands managing to shut it closed and locked. But, it’s not enough to just be alone, to know that no one can come in and try to hurt her. 

Because she still feels it.

Still feels hands on her, restricting her, bounding her, and it makes her sick.

Hand over her mouth, Solana does her best to push back the nausea, rushing over to the showers, turning the knob so that it’s at full strength. 

And heat too.

Shoving the towel off her body, she steps under the scalding water and grabs the soap, immediately scrubbing at her body. It’s unnecessary force, unnecessary heat, unnecessary altogether, but it’s the only thing that gives her a faux sense of comfort. She needs to wash the feeling of them off of her, scrub until her skin starts to look wrinkled and raw, her complexion tinging with redness from the heat of the water.

Eventually, the scrubbing stops feeling like enough. Nothing feels like enough, and she falls back against the wall of the shower, sliding down as she pulls her knees to her chest.

And she cries, the water blending seamlessly with the tears that filter out the drain in a way she wishes the heavy feelings wrecking her body would melt away.

Safe.....

It's a dream that she'll never achieve.

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.” 

“But not good enough.” Roman’s dismissal is swift and to the point. “I want 75% of all profits.”

Rikishi presses his lips together, calmly reminding, “that’s gonna be a hard sell.” 

“Orton is desperate. He’s an imbecile who uses more products than he moves and is running Bob’s legacy into the ground.” Roman is a man who prides himself on always being on the up and up. He makes it his business to know what’s going on with all competitors and even partnerships. “He should consider my offer fucking mercy. 75% or nothing.”

Rikishi sits back in his chair, a proud smile growing on his face. “I’ve taught you well, Uce”

There’s a modicum of truth to his cousin’s words, but for the most part, Roman has learned more on his own than anything anyone could have ever taught him.

“What’s the status of the imports from Columbia?”

Jey leans forward, answering without pause. “Scheduled to arrive just on time, assuming nothing goes awry.”

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

Roman nods. “It’ll be fine.” His distant cousin, Tama Tonga is a bit on the……eccentric side, but he’s never failed to see a successful shipment through from beginning to end.

“If…..” Paul’s low but firm voice enters the conversation, Roman’s lazy gaze falling on the man. “If I may, my Tribal Chief?” With the nod of approval from the Head of the Table, Paul clears his throat. “By my calculations, there’s a way for us to improve on the total time it currently takes for us to move product by over 40% with some minor….changes.”

Jimmy, who sits almost bored at the other side of the table, feet propped up, asks in a suspicion tone. “What kind of changes?”

Paul clears his throat. “If we were to have access to the Eastern harbor—”

At that, both Jimmy and Jey land eyes on their cousins head counsel. Jey is the first to speak though. “You know that’s Nightmare territory, correct?”

Paul’s voice is surprisingly calm. “I do.” A nervous set of blue eyes settle on the man who sits at the head of the table, the primary one who needs to be convinced of the possible benefits of what he’s about to suggest. “If we would just consider—”

“No.” Roman’s rejection is loud and echoes throughout the conference room. “How could you even fucking suggest that shit?”

“My Tribal Chief, if you could please hear out my—”

Roman’s fist banging against the table sends an alert to all members of this current meeting that the Tribal Chief word is final and unchanging. “I said…..no.” 

Rikishi shakes his head, thankful that a stern rejection is the extent of his cousin’s reaction. He can’t believe Paul could even be stupid enough to even suggest such a thing to Roman. Perhaps he could be swayed over to see the business and financial benefits, but Roman…..no, that history runs too deep and bleeds too much red for Roman Reigns to ever consider some sort of ceasefire or let alone alliance with The Nightmare Factory. 

“Well, that shit got awkward real fast,” Jey mutters, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Even if it makes all the sense in the world. “How about that marriage life?

Roman shuts his eyes. It’s jumping from one annoying topic to another. “What?”

“Man, Big Dog living good over there,” Jimmy’s smile is wide as he rubs his hands together. “Lil Soso can cook her ass off!”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

This is why Roman didn’t want to get on this subject, because he knew where it would lead to, another road he’s not trying to go down right now.

Rikishi chimes in, “their delivery is trash, but the question is still fair. Is there a chance she’s pregnant?” A sly smile falls on his face as he teases, “I know you well enough, Uce, that I don’t need to remind you of the importance of trying.”

Jey snorts. “That ain’t never been a problem for any of us. Especially Roman. Man, I still don’t know how you don’t have a gaggle of lil mean mugging ass kids running around here.”

The answer is simple, and Roman expresses as such. “Because I know how to fucking use a condom unlike you idiots.”

“Hey. I don’t know what you talking about. All my kids by Nicki.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

At that, Jey jumps out the chair, Jimmy rolling his eyes as Paul shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Ayo, you the Tribal Chief and everything, but you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife like that, aight?”

“Where did you sleep last night, Jey?” Roman’s tone is both bored and knowing, especially as Jey’s gaze drops the same way his ass does right back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”

“Just…” Rikishi’s voice is louder, allowing him to realign the conversation. “Keep us updated, Roman. When she does get pregnant, you’ll need to up her security.”

“I’m aware.” Just like he’s aware of the fact that unless this girl is the virgin fucking Mary and will have an immaculate conception, there’s no need to worry about that right now.

Or ever. 

His business phone lighting up with a familiar name across the screen is both a welcomed surprise as well as distraction for Roman. Without hesitation, he answers, watching the TV anchored on the wall light up.

Roman’s shoulder straightens as he leans back further into the soft Italian leather of his chair. “Dwayne.”

“Roman.” Dwayne removes the stereotypical dark glasses Roman always grew accustomed to seeing his cousin wear in any interaction. His smile beams. “Long time no fucking see, cousin.”

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.” 

“I saw that. Congratulations on the marriage. An invite would have been fucking nice.”

At that, Roman chuckles, calling out his bluff. “Like you would have come.”

Dwayne’s laughter echoes through the office. “Fair.” He then greets the rest of the men present, though it’s a surprise to no one that his initial exchange is solely with Roman. They’ve always had a great bond, even better business partnership, hence the position Roman has placed him in. “You know why I’m calling though”

And there goes the ‘fun’ while it lasted. Straight into business with his big cousin. He respects it immensely though. Dwayne is all about profit and efficiency and ensuring the smoothness of operations. “The same reason you always reach out, cause it’s not that often.”

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.” 

And he is. 

6 years, to be precise. 

“You need to fly out here.” Dwayne isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know, hasn’t already heard. “They need to see your face.”

“They have you.”

Dwayne snorts. “They hate me almost as much as they hate you.” They being that other side of Roman’s family, the side that he could go on with the rest of his life without seeing or speaking to. The side that probably feels the same about him and his Tribal tattoos, long hair, and skin that is not like theirs. 

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

“Hell no.” The answer is surprising, unlike Dwayne’s next statement. “But, I do care when shit starts to get more openly disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re becoming bolder with questioning your leadership. Less subtle. More direct.”

At that, Roman’s attention is fully captured. He sits up in his seat. “Is that so?”

The twins, Rikishi, and Paul all exchange knowing glances, having been wisely quiet to allow the Head of the Table to conduct business as he sees fit. But this, they all know where this is going.

“Maybe it is time I remind them who the fuck is in charge here.” As much as Roman loathes the idea of having to be around and interact with these fuckers, nothing vexes him more than having his authority challenged. 

Like he’s not the one, the two, and the three they’ve been looking for. 

“I’ll see about flying out within the next week.” 

Jey speaks up for the first time. “I can’t just leave on that short notice—”

“Did I say I needed you to come with me?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question. “I can handle this on my own.”

As is his preference with most things, because in Roman’s opinion, most things are handled better and in the way that most pleases him when he does it himself. His expectations can only be set and maintained or exceeded by him.

“At least take Paul with you, Uce.” Rikishi suggests, and in the moment, it’s last thing he wants. Paul’s already pissed him off enough for the day. “They need to be straightened out, not taken out. Paul can help you keep that balance.”

Roman isn’t obstinate enough to disagree with that. Paul does have his uses, one of which being his ability to talk Roman down when the preference is to just kill motherfuckers the second he deems them annoying. 

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Wise Man and I will go.” There are far too many other things on Roman’s plate for him to push back on a plus one. This is immaterial to the larger picture. “Dwayne, start the preparations.”

“You got it, brotha’. I’ll keep in touch.” 

The screen goes dark as Dwayne ends the call. Roman reclines back in his chair, a mixture of muddy, dark, bleak emotions. The idea of having to be around his maternal family is quite literally sickening to him. He hates those sons of bitches almost as much as they hate and despise him.

But on another hand, the idea of getting away from all this, from this Solana dilemma, there could be some benefits. He’d be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps even a month. Maybe in that space he’ll come back to a different kind of woman. A woman who knows how to fucking stand up for herself instead of being so scared all the time.

And as if reading his cousin’s mind, Jimmy breaks the silence, asking, “Ayo, Roman, you sure you should be leaving—”

A knock on the door seems to only exacerbate the tension as Roman snaps. “What?”

Alicia, his secretary, easy on the eyes and effective in what she does, opens the door just enough to stick her head through. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Reigns—”

“So why are you?” It’s well known that Roman is a man who hates interruptions, especially when he’s in the middle of a briefing meeting, and she knows this well. Might be time for a new secretary.

Alicia swallows and calmly explains, “your cousin, Nia, is on line one. She says she needs to speak to you immediately.”

“She can wait.”

“With….all due respect, sir, it sounds like an emergency. She’s been blowing up the lines all morning.”

Curious, Roman turns his personal phone over and sees his lock screen littered with missed calls, texts, and a voicemail all from one person. 

Nia. 

With a heavy sigh, Roman dismisses Alicia. “I’ll handle it.”

Quietly, she closes the door and he unlocks his phone to return the call. Nia never makes such an effort to get in contact with him. Some shit must have went down, though his mind still wonders what level of bullshit could have occurred that even she can’t handle. 

Phone laid on the table, he dials and places it on speaker.

“It’s about fucking time, you asshole!” Her introduction is unsurprising. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour.”

Roman is already tempted to hang up the phone and block her until further notice. “What do you want, Nia?”

“You need to get down here now.” He’s still not hearing anything that would warrant him moving an inch. “Your fucking Princess Peach wife—”

But at that, Roman’s interest is piqued. He sits forward in his chair. “What about her?” 

“I don’t know, she had a mental breakdown or something and has locked herself in the locker rooms. We can’t get her to come out—”

Right away, Roman gets to blaming and accusing. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Nia can’t respond before he asks the next important question. “Where the fuck was Solo!”

“I didn’t do anything, Roman! And Solo can’t be with her in the fucking women’s locker room!” Nia’s defense is as sharp as his imputation. “I told you that girl isn’t made for this life. She’s a fucking problem! Come get her now, or I’m going to blow the damn doors off myself.”

Highly vexed with Nia’s smart ass mouth as well as the nature of the situation, Roman slams his finger on the end button and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Fucking hell.”

Jey, just as confused as everyone else, decides to be the sacrificial lamb, asking, “Roman, what was that—”

“You two come with me. Wise Man. Rikishi. Finish and send out the response to Orton’s proposal.” Roman issues out indisputable commands as he marches out of the room, the twins not hesitating to hop up and follow suit. Confused or not, they know better than to question their cousin when he’s in one of these moods.

They don’t even say anything for the beginning portion of the ride to the Warehouse, a rarity for them considering they always have something to say. But this time, they wait for Roman to break the silence, and he eventually does, still just as angry. 

“I don’t have time to be dealing with this shit!” To say Roman is pissed would be an understatement. He’s livid. For a lot of different reasons, really, maybe even mostly at the fact that his head counsel had the unmitigated gall to even utter Rhodes name around him.

Roman would see the entire empire go up in smoke and flames before he’d ever agree to any sort of alliance with that son of a bitch.

That only adds on top of the fact that the Italian faction of his empire seems to be questioning his ability to lead, as if the data doesn’t clearly support that business has never been better. The cash flow is endless. Numbers don’t lie.

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination. 

It’s because of his father, the Samoan blood that runs through his veins. His being afakasi. Mixed. They believe that following that night, the alliance between the Bloodline and the Guild, an alliance sealed by the marriage of his father and mother, should have been dissolved. That someone from his mother’s side, a full blooded Italian, should sit on that metaphorical throne.

But, that’s not the case.

Roman assumed power because it is his by birthright, and he’ll be damned if he lets some ignorant fucks try to take it from him.

So yes….there are a lot of different reasons for his anger.

But, it’s a lot easier to blame it on the reason he’s in an SUV now, heading to a place he didn’t even plan to attend today.

“I’m not going to keep dealing with this shit with her.” He’s not even entirely sure who he’s speaking to at this point, or if he’s directing his statements to anyone in particular. Just needing to vent and get it out.

“What do you mean keep dealing?” Jimmy is the first to pick up on his cousin’s wording. “Something like this happen before?” 

The twins look between each other and then back at Roman who runs his hand over his face, realizing that if there’s anyone he can trust to keep this between them, it’s the twins. Annoying and sometimes dimwitted, they’re notoriously loyal and can sometimes provide sage advice.

“She had a complete meltdown on the wedding night. Panic attack, wouldn’t stop crying.” Roman conveniently leaves out the part of him talking her down from a panic attack. They don’t need to know that. 

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

“No.” He answers, honestly. “We didn’t even do it. She was too hysterical.”

“Wait a minute.” It doesn’t surprise Roman that Jimmy is the first to put two and two together. “So you ain’t even fucked her yet? But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He doesn’t need to be reminded of anything. Roman’s memory is long and sharp. “I also know what I do and don’t feel like dealing with right now.”

“Uce, the only reason you even married this girl was so that she could give you an heir. How the hell is that supposed to happen if she won’t even let you touch her?” As much as Roman wants to snap at his cousins, he can’t. He can’t because they’re right. It’s something he’s thought about on and off since the wedding night.

It’s painfully evident to him that Solana’s mental state is….fragile, to stay the least.

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

“Maybe you need to just annul the shit and cut your losses while it’s still early.” Jey suggests, and Roman can’t deny the idea has a level of appeal to it. Until the next part leaves his cousin’s mouth. “Send her back to her family.”

“No.” That’s an easy no. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea of annulment, but what’s not an option is sending her back to that house of horrors. The only way he can see himself doing that is if he’s put a bullet in both her brother and father’s head, which technically, is the plan anyway.

He would just be making some…..timeline adjustments.

“I won’t send her back there. That’s a death wish.”

Maybe set her up with some money and a house. Let her live out her days with her damn writing, reading, and cooking, the only three things she seems capable of doing without fear. But even thinking that, Roman wonders just how capable she is of living on her own.

Xavier kept the girl so damn sheltered. He’d have to keep a security detail on her at all times. Maybe keep Solo with her. She seems to have grown somewhat comfortable with him. 

The same with Naomi.

Or, so he thought. People who are moving in the right direction don’t lock themselves in public fucking locker rooms.

Jimmy also points out, validly, “well, you obviously can’t keep her around if she literally can’t do the one job she has.”

“Let’s not be irrational, alright?” Jey, in a twist of faith, tries to be the voice of reason. “That girl can cook.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Sure enough, he switches his tune. “Man, Soso ain’t even that bad, uce. You just gotta be patient with her.”

The change of tune doesn’t surprise Roman, but his suggestion is almost comical. If not for the fact that he’s already in a sour ass mood. “Do I look like a patient man?”

“No, but you do look like a man who could benefit from learning how to be patient,” Jimmy’s rebuff is quick and sharp. “That’s why you and Jey on high blood pressure medication right now. Both ya’ll hotheaded asses be getting yourselves all upset over nothing. Probably why you’re going gray too.”

There may be some element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s also irrelevant to the issue at hand.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, and it’s the truth, because that’s what Roman does. He figures shit out. 

He always figures shit out.

The SUV is barely parked when Roman flings the door open, slamming it shut behind him, not knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“What happened?” Roman’s demand is accompanied by his powerful stride into the Warehouse, Nia immediately rolling her eyes and pointing to Naomi.

“Ask her. She was the last one to interact with her.”

Naomi is unsurprised by both Nia throwing her under the bus as well as Roman directing his fury in her direction.

“What the fuck happened?”

As someone who’s been involved with the Bloodline and their family members for over a decade, she’s used to both Roman’s anger as well as being on the receiving end of said anger. So, her response is calm and to the point. “Like I told Nia, we trained, and she was fine. She actually did well today. I had another training session after her, so we agreed on the next date, and she left for the locker rooms. That’s it.”

Naomi’s answer is unhelpful, but he believes her. Knows she’s being honest. It’s just that her honesty doesn’t do shit for him.

“Clear the place.” It’s directed to Nia even if his focus is still on Naomi.

Nia steps forward, irritation undeniable. “Roman, seriously? We have matches lined up—”

“I don’t care. I want it cleared now, Nia.” She’s about to protest again, but he lifts his hand, warning, “I’m not in the mood, so don’t fucking test me.” 

Nia isn’t stupid. She might be able to teeter the lines some days with her cousin, but this clearly isn’t one of those days. Grumbled protests stay within the confines of her inner dialogue as she turns on the edge of her heel to start emptying the Warehouse.

The twins step forward, asking, “what you need us to do?”

Nothing. He doesn’t want anyone to do anything aside from leaving him the hell alone, but that’s not an option. So, he moves quick to find a task for them. Naomi as well. “Check the cameras. Something happened, and I want to know what.”

“What if—”

“Check the cameras.” At this point, Roman’s about to kick them all out if people keep questioning him like he isn’t the fucking Tribal Chief. 

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

When one doesn’t have much, or any, as a child, they overcompensate, and then some, as an adult.

He recognizes that fully. 

As all parties move to follow through on his orders, Roman heads toward the locker rooms, ignoring the complaining of the gym goers having to prematurely leave against their own volition. He’s not focused on that, just on the panel near the doors, a panel he’s never had to use until this day.

A panel only he can operate and use as its his biometrics and only his. Again, a man who likes control.

It takes less than a minute for him to gain access, the door automatically opening. Roman steps in and closes it behind him. 

“Solana.” He’s certain she won’t answer him, won’t magically do a 180 and feel well enough to step out, but he does feel like at least making his presence known to her will minimize her fear and surprise. 

Because one of the first things he notices and hones in on is sound, listening for any and all sounds that could lead him in her direction, and it’s a bit on the easy side considering there’s only the sound of running water coming from one area. And if he had to guess, one specific shower stall. 

Carefully, his steps take him from one end of the room to the other, moving in the direction of the woman he needs to find.

And he does find her. 

He finds her sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, enclosed in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring like she’s in a state of shock, like she’s not aware of where she is or what she’s doing. Like she’s not aware of the heat of the water bearing down on her body.

“What the hell?” Roman’s first reaction is a modicum of shock, the heat from the steam alone almost instantly suffocating him. Naturally, he moves toward her, to cut it off, but her scream of terror stops him prematurely. 

“No!” It’s been a while since Roman has heard that level and depth of fear in someone’s voice, in the hefty depth of their sorrow. She’s petrified. “P–please don’t.”

It’s for that he actually hesitates, doing his best not to shout at her because that’s clearly the last thing she needs. “Solana, I’m not gonna fucking touch you, but you’re burning yourself!”

While he does his best to keep his eyes focused on non–inappropriate areas, he can already see the reddening of her arms and back. If she already hasn’t burned herself.

Again, he tries to reason with her, which is such a strange experience. Roman doesn’t negotiate with people. He does whatever the fuck he wants and cuts down anyone who has something to say about it. But this, this is a completely different experience he’s not entirely sure he knows how to navigate in a way that won’t fuck this girl up even more than she already is. 

“I’m just going to shut the water off.” Announcing his intentions seems like the next best thing, even if it seems to do little to calm her. So, he bites the bullet and moves fast enough to where she can’t protest until it’s already done.

Which is exactly what happens. 

“No! I—I need—I need to get clean. I need—” She starts crying again, hugging her legs closer to her body. “I can still feel—their hands—”

“Did someone touch you?” Interrupting her isn’t a good idea, especially with the way anger naturally floats into his tone. It’s almost impossible for it not to. If someone fucking touched her….“ Solana….what happened?”

She gasps, shaking her head, pleading almost. “Please….please don’t m–make me t–t–talk about it.”

There’s a distant look in her eyes, one that’s both uncomfortably but extremely familiar to Roman. He knows what it looks like for someone to be physically present but mentally elsewhere. That’s what Solana is right now. 

She’s not talking about today but something else, something much darker that whatever happened today only triggered. 

Roman slowly starts to crouch down in front of her but she jerks back. “I’m not going to touch you, Solana,” he again reiterates. “But you can’t stay in here.” He starts to remove his jacket, reaching it over to her. “We have to go back to the house.”

Again, she’s panicking, protesting. “I can’t—I can’t go out t–t–there.”

“I had the place cleared,” he explains. “There’s no one out there except for the twins, Naomi, and Nia.” Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if he should have asked them to leave too. He didn’t know she'd be this frazzled. 

“Come on," he encourages.

Eventually, she accepts his jacket, and Roman stands back up to his full height, turning around and allowing her the privacy he’s sure she’d want. She steps forward, Roman seeing she’s hugging herself keeping his jacket covering her body. 

She keeps her head down, obviously still shaken up, still messed up from a lot of things. He honestly doesn’t know where the trauma stops and ends with this girl.

Roman directs her. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.” He looks down at her, needing some level of acknowledgement. “Okay?”

Solana surprises him by glancing up, nodding softly, walking away to what he would guess is the locker where her clothes are. 

Pleased that she’s at least well enough to be left alone to follow through on a simple task, Roman exits the locker room. He approaches the desk, the twins immediately standing up. It’s not lost upon him that Naomi and Nia are nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess, Jimmy sent Naomi home, not wanting her to bear anymore of Roman’s wrath. And Nia left to avoid unleashing her wrath on Roman, neither of which he’s entirely upset about. 

He has no interest in seeing either of them right now.

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

“Send it to me.” Roman is smart. Always has been. It’s not difficult for him to connect the dots to see that someone clearly fucked with Solana. And he’s almost certain whatever footage the twins found will confirm and show exactly how she was fucked with. The same way he’s entirely certain that managing his anger seeing as such is damn near if not wholly impossible.

And she doesn’t need that right now. She’s already a hot mess. Being exposed to his explosive temper will only exacerbate that, so being sent the footage for him to view when he’s alone and can respond as violently as he wants is the best route.

Especially with his next order.

“Whoever it is, bring em’ to Asylum.” He adds, as if it needs to be specified. “Tonight.” 

Jey nods, and Roman notices there’s an edge to his voice. The same way there’s an edge in Jimmy’s expression. They seem pissed. “You got it.” And for some reason, Roman has a burning guess that it has to do with whatever they found rather than it being directed toward him. 

Waiting for Solana to exit the locker rooms, Roman blows out a deep breath and scratches his beard. This day has been a shitshow for a variety of reasons, but this reason in particular, this thing with Solana, it ranks pretty high up there.

He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing to do with this girl. 

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

“Text Paul. Tell him I want Solana’s medical records. All of them.”

Roman knows now he needs answers, specific answers regarding exactly what he’s dealing with. And Solana is clearly in no position to share these things with him, not that he’d even want her to. 

She’d probably have to be admitted somewhere if he tried that shit. 

Jimmy looks understandably confused but affirms, “I gotchu.”

And with that, Roman also pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, selecting the thread and typing out a message he doesn’t really think twice about.

Roman: Dwayne. Change of plans. I’ll come when I can, but now’s not a good time. I have shit here I need to handle first.

Roman: In the meantime, take my name out their fucking mouths. 

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And just like that, Solana knows that he knows what happened. Knows about Austin and Grayson.

And it turns her stomach. 

Roman took her back to the house. He left her alone, giving her time and space to come down from her breakdown. And even in sitting in her room, writing out her feelings about the day's events, she knew. Solana knew that it wasn’t that simple. That Roman wouldn’t just leave what happened today at that.

That he’d want to know what happened, what triggered it, but naively, she tried to convince herself he’s too busy of a man to deep dive and find out on his own. To push her for answers. 

She’s wrong.

She’s wrong because that’s the first thing to leave his mouth when he finds her in the kitchen. 

Roman’s question, however, is valid and understandable, even if just the thought alone of having this conversation makes Solana physically uncomfortable.

Still, given everything that’s happened today, she can’t blame him for wanting answers.

She just doesn’t have them to give.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His tone is full of mockery and frustration that she also can’t blame him for but physically finds herself feeling unsettled. “Bullshit. I want an answer, Solana.”

Her skin feels hot, stomach starting to knot. “I just—I don’t—”

“I can’t handle problems you have if you don’t fucking tell me that you have a problem in the first place.”

“I’m sorry—”

At that, Roman snaps, unintentionally, but also a build-up from all of the day’s events. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

What he doesn’t expect is for her to jump back away from him, so much so that she falls to the floor and hurriedly moves back against the cabinet, as she shouts in a panic, “I’m sorry!” Her arms are crossed in front of her body, a defensive position, like she’s waiting, bracing.

Waiting for him to hit her.

Roman’s been in this position countless times. Standing before people as they begged for mercy, begged for him to not enact his vengeance, to rule out his judgment as judge, juror, and executioner. And it’s always been a thrill for him, a boost to his ego, a reminder of his power.

And not once has he ever felt bad for causing such a reaction.

Not until this moment. 

With slow, careful movements, Roman also moves to the floor, one leg outstretched, the other hiked so his foot is planted on the ground. His arm casually resting on his knee. “Solana….do you remember what I said to you that day at your job?”

She's still waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to lash out, for him to hit her. But, she’s confused by the fact that instead of him doing so just yet, he's sitting on the floor opposite of her. And somehow, she finds it in her to focus on his question. He said a couple of noteworthy things that day, but somehow, she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“My…..my clumsiness.” Clumsiness he told her she wouldn’t have to worry about, but she’s been more than worried about it, more waiting for it, expecting it at some point or another. 

“And I meant that shit.” His head is leaned back against the cabinet, and Solana suddenly feels even worse. He seems so stressed out from all of this, from her. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you. Not your dad. Not your brother. Not fucking Theory and Waller.” There’s a bit of a pause as he adds, almost quietly, “and especially not me.” 

Solana is unsure what to make of what he’s saying to her. Not sure how to process and take it at face value. It’s hard for her to digest the fact that one of the most dangerous and violent men in the country wants her to believe that he’d never put his hands on her. That he’s not someone she needs to be scared of. 

And she doesn't understand it, can’t comprehend how he can not be like every other man in her life. “W–why?”

“Cause unlike your piece of shit family, The Bloodline has morals. I’m not a good man, Solana, and I don’t pretend to be. But, I’ve never hit a woman, and I never will.” Roman never pictured himself having to explain to a woman why he has no desire to beat her. Yet, here he fucking is. “Real men don’t do that shit.”

Solana doesn’t know what to say to that, is still not sure what to say to any of it. But then, Roman is speaking again.

“It’s no secret. I have a temper, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. Not for you, not for anyone.” Solana knows this, knows this very well, and understands it just as much. She would never expect him to change his ways, especially for the likes of her. “But, I—I’ll try to be mindful of it around you.” 

That…..throws her for a loop. Why? Why would he do anything for her? What has she done to make him even feel like he should? Except stress him out and cause him unnecessary problems.

Roman continues, asserting, “but, you’ve gotta start fucking telling me shit. I need you to meet me halfway here. I need you to communicate with me. You can’t spend the rest of your life writing what you refuse to say out loud.” 

She licks her lip, a nervous action, replying as best she can, “I’m not—I’m not used to—” She’s not used to people caring about her, caring about her wellbeing, and maybe that’s too strong and too inaccurate to describe what Roman is saying. It’s certainly how it feels though. “I—I’ll try.”

He seems pleased by this, probably not fully satisfied but enough for him to drop the subject. And she appreciates that, and is thankful for it. This day has already been a lot, too much. She’s so fucking tired. 

Roman says nothing else, not that she needs him to, not that he needs to. But, as he stands up, turning to leave, she finds herself asking him, “where—where are you going?”

His answer is simple but ominous. “I told you. No one lays a hand on you.” He grabs his jacket off the sofa, sliding it on as he vows, “I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

—-------

Asylums, historically, have been places of horror. Where the lives of so many end in cruel and undeserved ways. Screams and pleas falling on deaf ears, memories of terror forever etched in the walls and halls of a building that’s only seen suffering.

It’s a fitting name for Roman’s location for interrogation. 

Torture. Because there is no being interrogated by the Tribal Chief. It’s just straight up, unadulterated torture. And truth be told, it’s a bit of a last, or maybe second resort. Killing someone in the moment is much easier, preferred. A shot to the head, a knife across the throat, even the snap of a neck. All much easier than methodical, drawn out ending of lives.

But some instances, some circumstances call for something more, something sinister, something lasting.

And that’s exactly what Theory and Waller are going to get.

By the time Roman walks into the building, sliding and tossing his jacket to the side, the twins have done a decent job roughing them up. One of them—he could never tell the difference—nor did he care or will it matter in a few hours, has a black eye that’s swollen shut. The other’s nose is crooked and bleeding, most likely broken. Their clothes are already stained with sweat, blood, and dirt. 

They’re both tied down by their wrists and ankles that he can see have started to dig into their skin. Their chairs are situated opposite each other. Good. That’ll make this even better. Calmly, Roman walks over, snapping his finger as Jimmy and Jey step back, visibly pleased with their warm up. 

He crouches down between them, looking back and forth between both with a smirk. “Gentleman, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” One of them, the taller of the two looks scared shitless while the other is glaring with idiotic defiance. Like he clearly thinks he and his friend are going to leave this building alive. 

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

“I’m Roman.” His voice is slick ice. “Roman Reigns.” There’s a rush of adrenaline that soars through Roman’s big body seeing the fear flash in both sets of irises. Good. They should be fucking terrified. “But, I do know someone you have met.” His voice goes cold again. “My wife.”

“Actually, I saw you meet my wife, but you didn’t just meet her, did you?” Roman smiles, shaking his head. “Naw man….ya’ll did a hell of a lot more than that.” 

Roman doesn’t need to have footage of just what happened in that locker room. He can paint the image all on his own, and it’s an image that makes his blood go cold. The footage of them in the hallway was damning enough. “You cornered her, didn’t you? You waited until she was alone and vulnerable and you harassed her. You sexually harassed her. My wife.” 

Roman shrugs, looking between the two. “What ya’ll think should happen?” Their mumbled and grumbled voices are incoherent against the gags in their mouths. Laughing quietly, he continues, “now, now, I’m a fair Tribal Chief.” Roman stands up, walking over to the wall of tools and weapons laid out. He settles for the hunting knife. “So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna let you tell me which body part goes first.”

He motions for the twins to remove their gags and upon that removal, the defiant punk is the first to speak, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

The other one, however, is damn near in tears. “Pl—please. We–we’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Grayson! He–he’s bluffing.” Theory, he thinks, decides to prolong his torture even longer by reiterateing, “we didn’t even fucking touch her. The bitch is ly—”

Roman sees red, again, most likely a buildup of the day's events. But, it’s pure rage that fills him as he slams the Buck 119 down against Theory’s left hand, cleanly slicing off four of his fingers. 

Theory’s screams fill the room as the twins chuckle, Jey taunting, “who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Roman grabs his chin, vowing, “I’m gonna make you suffer the longest.”

“We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” Grayson is now crying, clearly ready to beg, plead, and whatever else it takes to get him out of this hell. “Austin just—he had her up against the locker, he–he pinned her, but we didn’t rape her. I swear!”

Grayson unintentionally paints a picture in Roman’s head of what he already figured is what happened, what he figured is what sent Solana into her traumatized state.

Big mistake.

Roman brings the knife down on both of Grayson’s thighs, intentionally aiming for near the top of his knees, his quadriceps, effectively rendering him permanently paralyzed. His screams of pain are music to Roman’s ears. Roman grabs him by his jaw, screaming, “who the fuck do you think you are! She’s mine! You hurt her and think I’m not gon break every bone in your fucking body? You don’t ever fuckin touch what’s mine! You understand me!”

The younger man is practically hysterical at this point. “Please….” Roman looks down, hit with the stench of urine, seeing that the one with the accent has pissed himself. Disgusted, he backs away, hitting the pathetic son of a bitch with a blow across his cheek that sends teeth flying out his mouth.

He turns back around, eyes focused on a now teary eyed Theory. “I was going to be fair, let you decide in which order I dismember you, but now…now I’m just gonna make you watch as I kill you both, piece by fucking piece."

He looks over at his cousins who seem completely unaffected and almost indifferent to the gruesome scene unfolding before them. “Jimmy.” Roman doesn’t hesitate, a sadistic smile on his handsome face. “Give me the saw.”

—------

Blood is such a pain in the ass to get out of almost everything. 

Roman showered a good twenty minutes before leaving the Asylum, and he can still see specks of dried blood, or maybe it’s bone, or flesh. 

There’s a sense of satisfaction that fills him though, that almost calms him as he imagines the look of pure terror and fright on their faces as he methodically took their lives, piece by piece. Well fucking deserved in Roman’s opinion.

And he’d do it all over again if he could.

Minus the blood and guts and shit, because that's just fucking annoying. Roman readies to take another shower, hitting the light switch near his bedroom door when he immediately notices the brown journal sitting in the middle of the bed.

There’s a second to pause and another second for him to realize he’s seen a similar book before. Solana. He’s seen her writing in one very close to the one on his bed. 

Less apprehensive, Roman walks over to see it’s open to a page filled with neat writing he knows must belong to Solana.

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

I know you don’t want me saying sorry anymore, and I know you want me to talk to you, but it’s really hard for me. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to talk to you. 

And I know you said I can’t write, but writing has always been the only way I can express myself, so I will try to talk to you more, but….until then, can I just write?

Solana

Right off the bat, Roman’s first and initial response is no.

Because why the fuck would he write like something out of a damn movie when she could just fucking talk to him?

But, that’s the thing, that’s exactly what she’s trying to express to him, that she can’t, that it’s too hard for her. Right now, at least. Because there’s also a promise, a promise to try to transition to more verbal communication, Roman’s preference.

Granted, he hates talking to most people in general, but it’s preferred over writing damn letters like the 1700s.

And then he thinks about it, recalling earlier today and the pure terror in her voice, the fear wracking her body so much so that she didn’t even realize she was this close to third degree burns. He has to be realistic here, realistic about what she is and isn’t capable of.

As frustratingly slow as it is, she is trying, in her own way. He can’t fault her for that.

Regardless of how he feels about it, this is the best she can do. For now. And he’ll hold her to working towards that, because growth doesn’t happen in comfort zones. She has to get used to being uncomfortable with new things. That’s just how it is.

But this….he can meet her halfway.

Grabbing a pen out his nightstand, Roman writes out his response, taking and laying it out on the kitchen island for her to see first thing in the morning.

Solana,

I recognize communication is challenging for you. If this is what works for you, I’ll do it. For now.

Do you work this weekend? If so, call off. 

I’m taking you somewhere.

Also, there's nothing you can't tell me.

I promise you that.

Roman

[arcplaysgames]

Oh Teddie. Buddy. I saw how you sucked face with Kanji, you can't fool me.

Rise, do you..... not..... have a gaydar? Rise, do you not know? What else don't you know, like, do you not know about Chie and Yukiko? Oh, girl. Are you our token straight? I think she might be.

Also, I don't thing i can find the caps, but Rise constantly negs Kanji in combat. She can't seem to have a chill interaction with him. It's funny but also a bit aggravating. Like, can you kids play nice?

What am I saying, of course not. These kids are incapable of it lmao.

This dumb fucker hurled himself in on purpose knowing we'd bail him out, I just know it. If smug was a motorcycle, he's a fucking Knievel.

Naoto's little corner of TV land is a secret laboratory out of some Man From UNCLE classic spy stuff.

It has, without a doubt, the worst exploration music in the game so far. Jesus christ.

ALSO TEDDIE IS... IN A CHEERLEADER UNIFORM. okay. sure. I got cool clothes for everyone. I like Kanji in the Tatsumi Textiles work clothes, and Reverie is dressed as an ouendan member! OSU! goddamn i love those games.

Cuties. Everyone is adorable.

ALSO CHIE CAN DROP BY MID-BATTLE TO SLAM HER SCOOTER INTO AN ENEMY AND KNOCK THEM OUT OF THE MATCH? Amazing.

oh my LORD.

Naoto's Shadow is kind of amazing. One, the VA performance is great, swinging between a very sad child constantly on the verge of tears to a VERY over the top theatric rendition of a mad scientist. The oversized floppy sleeves are a fabulous touch on the physical design. This one is something special compared to all the others.

pops gum loudly

This bit is very good.

Admittedly, it's very interesting to reach Naoto and his shadow after hearing about the whole thing secondhand for, at this point, over a decade. I'm not going to bring anything new to the topic and, frankly, I'm waiting to see how Naoto's social link plays out to get a full read on what's going on here.

Because, obviously, surface level read of the whole this is more than moderately disappointing. The gender essentialism and the repeated idea that you cannot change your gender is more than a little eye-roll-inducing. And it chafes pretty badly against Kanji's entire SLink, which I finished after this dungeon and will recap later but does revolve around eschewing the simplicity of labels.

I'm kind of struggling to pin down why I'm not that mad at this handling. Part of it is obviously that I've set my expectations low for Persona as a whole so that I can have a lot of pleasant surprises when it exceeds those expectations.

But also, the entire Naoto thing is a very sticky situation. Because I think that the Western audience for these games doesn't understand the gravity and density of the sexism in Japanese society. And I'm not an expert in this! But lets say that I do know a thing or two from a friend who does understand it. And it suuuuuucks. Naoto is entirely right to be torn up about this duality.

The people he works with would 100% absolutely no question discard his opinions if they saw him as a girl. Yep. I fully believe that and the weight of that anxiety on Naoto is crushing, clearly moving him to tears. But on the other hand, presenting as a man to avoid that pitfall, the other anxiety of "mimicking those same men" and having to justify their bullfuckery is also incredibly heavy.

Naoto has no clean solution. And if we posit that his reason for being a guy is rooted in that fear, that's... a bad reason to go fulltime Guy Mode. When you opt into your gender, it should be out of love for the thing, in my opinion. There should be something like relief in "yes, I am this gender!"

I don't see that here. But, on the flipside, as soon as this fight is over...

I could reach through the screen and slap you, Rise. This stung me like hearing someone getting misgendered. It fucking SUCKS. Not just everyone swapping to "she" but the feminine diminutives, that's genuinely hard to hear and I personally hate it.

Anyway, back up.

I love this moment from our other team member who thinks a LOT about gender. Kanji being like "listen, just let this shit play out so Naoto has the healing process we all got too, we'll handle the battle part." LIKE!!!!! Fuckin'.... queer solidarity means saying yes, you will beat the shit out of the superpowered facade of a friend's gender demons. THAT'S what it means, baby!

ah shit out of images again brb

[deathlygristly]

Okay, four hours later, after getting home from work and hugging the spousal person and petting the cats and having a snack and changing into my favorite sleepyclothes, I have thoughts.

My favorite sleepyclothes are a T shirt and pants pajama set that's cat themed and the shirt says Cat Nap on it - when I wear it I tell the spousal person that I am experiencing gender euphoria, since if gender is clothes based like some people seem to think then my gender is sleepyclothes. :)

Putting the rest under a readmore because all personal and just me writing myself through stuff.

Anyway, my thoughts:

Work has been pretty stressful lately and I've had to get up earlier than usual three days this week and I'm tired. Earlier today at work I had one of those really short but still awful anxiety attacks where a cold feeling starts in my gut and goes up my chest and things feel really weird and not real, and then later after that I felt so exhausted that it was hard to walk. Then when I got back to the office and I was editing and uploading pics that I am pretty behind on since I've had three or more tours a day lately until the last two days, I checked the Patreon of a kdrama podcast I listen to and I saw someone calling me out for saying a currently airing kdrama seems to be for neurotypical people.

It's a good thing I was alone in the upstairs office because I started crying. Deleted my post, left the Patreon, unfollowed the podcast, and texted the spousal person to ask if I was a bad person.

When I get like this I think my brain is using the definition of bad person it learned in childhood - that a bad person is someone who doesn't want to practice for the spelling bee so she gets choked, or someone who didn't know to ask a stranger who called if he was the gravel man so she gets slapped and yelled at. A bad person is someone who makes other people mad in ways that she wasn't able to predict and prevent before it happened.

And the person who called me out wasn't even really that mad or mean or anything. I'm not blaming them for this at all. It's just that even when you feel like you've been pretty recovered for years the trauma can still hit you occasionally, especially when you're already at a low point of fatigue and stress.

Also I had been getting fairly frustrated with how people on that podcast and in the community surrounding it said very very often that the shows that we really like are too silly and over the top and weird and ick. So when they all jump on a show that we think is all right but not great, of course I'm going to be thinking about why our tastes and experiences are so different. And maybe feel a little resentful of how often they hate on the shows we like - actually last week they posted asking for questions they'd answer in an episode and I asked "What's with all the hate for silly shows?" but I deleted it. I guess last week I was more aware that asking that wasn't a good move socially than I was today.

So yeah, I don't think the person who called me out was wrong or mean or anything, and I do think I reacted out of the trauma being triggered for the first time in quite a while. But I think it was also a legitimate signal that maybe that community isn't for me and that it was getting to me and that it was, like the skeleton in that post that goes around says, time to hit the bricks and just leave.

Also the spousal person said it was okay to talk to him about the show being more for neurotypical people because he agrees with me. ;)

Anyway, yeah, I'll be okay. It's a three day weekend, I can sleep in tomorrow, I've already decided to be kind to myself all three days and just do whatever I want and not judge myself, and it'll be okay.

And I'm not a bad person. I'm just a person.

How do you know if you're a bad person or not? I'm pretty sure I'm a bad person but the spousal person says I'm not.

Context: Someone got mad at me for saying Love Next Door was for neurotypical people, so saying and thinking that was wrong and bad.

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[twinklelilstarkey]

if you could write more about dad!rafe that would be amazing!!

Loving - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 1.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Rafe, Y/N and their daughter go to Midsummers, where a family reunion awaits them.

Warnings: Dad!Rafe and Dad!Topper. All the characters are slightly older in this imagine. Mentions of symptoms of anxiety. 

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Credits for the beautiful gif @drewsephstarke (if u want me to not repost it, let me know, i’ll delete it. I just couldn’t find any others on the normal tumblr gifs)

Y/D/N - Your daughter’s name

"Do you have everything?” You ask Rafe, again, making him sigh.

“Yes, for the millionth time. Yes” He chuckles, “Breathe, baby. Jesus.”

You’ve been stressing for the past week. It’s been 2 years since you’ve last been in a Cameron’s event as important as the Midsummers and all you can feel is the pressure and stress running in your veins.

Not only will you re-seeing all your high school ‘friends’, but also Rafe’s side of the family. And no, you’re not talking about Sarah and Wheezie. You’re talking about Ward and Rose, who haven’t seen their granddaughter since the week she was born.

It was Rafe’s decision to make them not as inclusive as your side of the family, and you didn’t judge him for it. It was his choice to make.

But still, the idea of seeing them again after so long is stressful enough to make you seem paranoid with every small thing.

You reopen your small purse to check if you have everything that you need for the night and you sigh as you see, literally, everything.

“We need to go now.” Rafe says from beside you.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As you walk down the front yard of your parents’ house, you grab your car keys as Rafe calls out for Y/D/N, who is still inside the house.

The small girl walks out of the living room once hearing her dad’s voice and once her big eyes land on him, she extends her arms his way, grabby hands into the air.

Rafe walks towards her and picks her up, adjusting her dress slightly since she has been sitting on the ground this whole time, and looks up to check on you.

You had already walked out of the house and to the car, which didn’t surprise him. So Rafe walks with Y/D/N on his hip and closes the front door after him. H

e puts his baby girl down on her seat in the back and you pass him the keys before taking your seat on the passenger side, letting he go around to sit and start the car.

(...)

"Oh my god! I’ve missed you so much!” Sarah screams in the lobby of the building, catching everyone’s attention, as she runs towards you.

She wraps her arms around you as soon as she’s close enough and starts swaying you from side to side in her tight hold. 

Rafe walks in the building, Y/D/N on his hip, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he fluffs out her dress and walks over to you.

“Oh, she’s here too” Sarah gasps when pulling away from you, eyes wide when staring at your daughter in Rafe’s arms. “Oh, well hello you cute little bug” she says with her baby voice.

Rafe laughs down at his sister, finding her baby voice ridiculous, and you look around a little, noticing how many people are as late as you. 

Thank god you’re not the last ones to get here.

“Can I hold her?” Sarah asks her brother.

Rafe doesn’t answer, he just leans a bit down and passes the small girl to her aunt. Y/D/N looks at her dad, confused look as she’s passed to Sarah.

“Where’s dad?” He asks Sarah.

Sarah walks over to you and Rafe follows her, resting his hand on your lower back once he stands right beside you.

“He’s...” She starts, looking around in the main room, “Probably...” She walks a bit to get a better view, and then turns to the two of you, “Outside”

You smile a bit at her words and you all start walking out of the lobby to try and find the man that organized this whole night. You walk beside Rafe, trying to swallow your nerves away, while looking around.

Rafe laughs a bit next to you and you look up at him to find him staring at Y/D/N. You follow his gaze and your eyes lay a wide eyed toddler staring intensely at her aunt, almost as if in shock.

You chuckle and that seems to catch the attention of the small girl, who looks at the two of you. Your and Rafe’s smile influence her into smiling as well and even to let a little giggle.

“Dad!” Sarah says excitingly as you three walk out to the porch, “Look who’s here”

Ward Cameron, himself, stands not too far from you, talking to maybe some business partners or just some acquaintances from the island’s Figure Eight. He looks over his shoulder to find his daughter holding a baby.

“Look Y/D/N, it’s grandpa.” Sarah says excitingly while making the girl jump on her hip, making it seem like she is actually excited to see him.

And that’s when Ward understood who the girl is, his granddaughter.

He looks up to find both you and Rafe standing behind Sarah and a smile is plastered on his face. Some might say it’s rather fake, but who are you to comment on that?

The men that were standing beside him drift their eyes to look at you all and they can’t help but feel shocked when they see the oldest son of Ward in front of them. 

It’s been years since he had last been to events like these.

“My son, it’s great to see you again.” Ward says, after giving the small girl a smile.

The Cameron men give each other a quite awkward hug and Ward turns to you.

“It’s great to see you too, Y/N. You haven’t changed at all since I last saw you.”

Oh, yes. The day after his granddaughter was born. The last time you all were together in one room. 

The last time he had tried to have an argument with Rafe and Rafe had finally enough of him.

Something that it’s surely still too fresh on Rafe’s mind still. As well as Ward’s.

Ward turns to Sarah once more and extends his hands as a way to motion wanting to hold the baby. 

Sarah passes him Y/D/N, who doesn’t look all that pleased with all the unknown people holding and staring at her.

“Aren’t you adorable?” Rose asks from behind you.

You turn to stare at her and she’s glancing adoringly at your daughter.

The older couple give all their attention to the small ‘chubby-cheeked’ girl and you walk over to Rafe, leaning your side against his, making him wrap his arm over your shoulders. 

As he plants a kiss over your hair, you turn to Sarah and start a conversation.

While you talk your worries away with Sarah, now feeling more relaxed, Rafe can’t take his eyes off his dad, who seems, to him, to be moving further and further way with his baby. 

In reality, he knows that Ward is not that far, but he sure is far enough to make anxiety bubble up in Rafe’s chest.

Y/D/N looks away from Ward and looks over at her dad, her usual pout after much forced socialization forming on her lips. 

She extends her small arms to her dad and Rose looks over at Rafe.

“Looks like she wants to go back to dad.” She says with a sweet smile, not something anyone is used to seeing.

Ward passes the child over to Rafe’s arms and he’s quick to hold her close to him. 

The baby snuggles into his neck and coos a little as she does it, melting into her dad’s warmth and familiar hold.

The people around them steal some glances and awe at the sight of the small baby clinging to the scowling Rafe Cameron that everyone seems to recognize.

You laugh beside him at Sarah’s words and Rose and Ward are quick to join the conversation. Rose’s smile very prominent on her face, making you ease up next to her. While, Ward, on the other, stole glares at his son, same exact scowl on his face.

You hold Rafe’s vacant hand, giving it a small squeeze, and he looks down at you, coming back to reality.

“You okay?” You ask him in a whisper and he just nods.

The small girl on his chest moves a bit and peeks with her big eyes, over her dad’s shoulder, at the people behind the porch. 

Some of them dancing and some just talking with a drink on their hand.

“Top” She gasps and Rafe looks down at her.

The small girl slaps his chest lightly to try and grab her dad’s attention and he looks over his shoulder to see Topper with a drink on his hand and a kid resting over his hip.

Rafe brings his fingers over to his lips, letting go of your hand, and whistles at his best friend, grabbing his attention and some other people’s in front and beside him as well. 

The girl giggles at her dad and brings her small hands to her mouth, trying to imitate her dad, gaining a smile from you and a laugh from Sarah.

Topper smiles up at Rafe and starts making his way towards the porch. And as he stands beside Rafe, he changes Y/D/N to his other arm, all to greet his best friend with the right hand.

Rafe’s scowl lifts off his features as Topper starts making conversation and Ward looks away from the two young fathers, listening to what his daughter and wife are talking about.

As Topper looks over at you and starts a small conversation just to greet you, Y/D/N lays her small palm on Rafe’s cheek, getting his attention again. She smiles widely and acts all shy as his eyes land on her.

“Why are you all shy, now?” He asks the small girl playfully, “Uh?”

He pokes her side to make her erupt into her usual fit of giggles, trying to stop his hand with hers.

Rose and Ward look up at the sound of the adorable giggles and they eye Rafe Cameron smile sweetly at the small girl, threatening to start tickling her again.

The small girl shakes her head again violently at her dad’s other question and leans in, planting a small faint kiss over his cheek. He gasps dramatically and does the same to her cheek, making the girl start laughing again.

You look up at them and smile at how adorable they are.

Rafe peppers his daughter’s face with kisses and she laughs loudly, grabbing her dad’s face with her small hands to make him stop.

“Lowe you” She says as he leans his head away and he smiles at her, gaining a awe from all the women in front of him.

“I love you too” He answers, making the baby satisfied with his words and lean in close to his chest once more.

Ward stares at his son in slight shock, he did not expect Rafe to ever be as loving as this. 

He expected him to be like... him. His dad. 

And he’s more than wrong.

God, I missed writing for Dad!Rafe. We don’t deserve him, too cute for our own good.

            *HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY*

[writingtoforgetreality]

Too Close To Home (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

Request: Hi! I'd like to request a Malcolm Bright x reader or OFC story. Malcolm and the reader know each other since a few years. The reader has grown up in an abusive family and also has anxiety. They spend more time together cuz of a case. When the reader gets into danger, Malcolm saves her. He guides her home afterwards. First he doesn't want to come in but then they spend the night together (smutty or not, whatever you prefer). Afterwards they experience the most peaceful sleep they've had in ages :) (by @angelicastiel), [Prodigal Son-Masterlist]

Summary: Another case you & your team got to work on. This time, though, the backstory of the killer hit a bit too close to home. Still, you wanted to get the job done & arrest the murderer. There would have been a better, less dangerous way, but you could not change your actions anymore. And maybe you got something out of it. Something you had been wanting for the longest time.

Words: 3,827

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, angst, language, probably spoilers for season 2, father figure!Gil, little kidnapping situation, talks of murder (I mean, it’s Prodigal Son), first time writing for Prodigal Son (even though I do feel kinda confident writing for it, idk…let me know what you think)

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Being part of Gil Arroyo’s team was a dream coming true. Your years in college were spent working your ass off in order to end up in a job like that. Not only did Gil give you a place to work, he also took you under his wing. Talking about your past was something you dreaded but somehow you found yourself opening up to him. He knew about your parents & could tell when things started becoming too much for you. Throughout your time at the NYPD, you got closer with your team. Dani & JT had become your best friends. Malcolm, on the other hand, had been a different case. While the two of you sure were friendly with one another, you slowly developed a little crush on the profiler. Who were you kidding? You had the biggest crush, it was kind of embarrassing. Especially because Dani & JT teased the living hell out of you. Luckily, Gil had yet to notice. You did not want to bring private business into your job.

This case had been a tough one. Not only that but it hit too close to home for your liking. The killer you had been looking for left you a letter at the crime scene. It was a man who had been abused by his parents when he was younger. In that letter, he explained why he did what he did. Like, yeah, you came from an abusive household, too, but you were not running around, murdering a what looked like innocent man. Like, chill a bit. Gil pulled you a few feet away from the scene after you all had finished reading. This left Dani, JT & Edrisa alone with looking for more details. Malcolm was still nowhere to be found, even though all of you had tried calling him a couple of times.

“Maybe you should sit this one out.” Gil’s hand was on your shoulder, keeping you an arm’s distance away to take a look at your face. He knew right away that you were thinking about your own parents & sometimes things could be messy if private stuff got mixed up with work stuff. Again the reason why you kept your feelings for Malcolm at bay.

“Gil.” you sighed. “I’ll be fine. Besides, you guys need me.” Gil hated to admit it but you were right. The team was lost without you & nobody knew if your killer was planning another crime while you were inspecting this scene. A voice interrupted your conversation & both, you & Gil, looked at where it was coming from. Would you look at that. Malcolm, everyone. Fashionably late, as always. Why did he have to look so good though? Ugh…

“I heard there was another murder? What have we got?” Malcolm, being his usual self when it came to crime scenes, directed his questions at both of you.

“You would know if you decided to show up sooner.” Gil gave him a tight lipped smile & you could hear the sarcasm in his statement. Yeah, nobody could ever stay mad at Malcolm for a long time. Except maybe JT. But he seemed like he was just pissed off by whatever Malcolm did. That was why they were such great friends.

“The guy left us a letter, kind gesture, right? Edrisa should have it.” your arms crossed over your chest to hide how bad your hands were shaking. The action did not go unnoticed by Malcolm, though. He could tell you were uncomfortable. Your anxiety seemed even worse than usually. It was not like you ever opened up to Malcolm about your struggles. You had found it hard to talk about your feelings, even when you talked to Gil. But since Gil had become some sort of father figure to you, you found it a little easier to open up to him. The thing was that Malcolm was working even when he was not working. Which meant that he was profiling others even outside of work. It was not hard to notice your trembling hands, your bouncing legs, your struggle to keep eye contact. He could tell that your anxiety was bad. Most days, you hid it rather well, he had to give you that. A normal person would have never noticed anything wrong with your behavior. Malcolm, though, knew better & while he did not know what had happened to you in the past, he knew you were struggling nevertheless. But he could worry about you another time, for now, he had to focus on the crime scene.

As Malcolm walked over to where Edrisa was standing, you pulled at Gil’s hand, motioning him to follow you. Edrisa handed over the letter & explained briefly what they had found so far. You knew what was about to come. As did everyone else, so you quieted down & let the profiler do his job.

“Our dear murderer wrote the letter after he killed James here. The ink is too fresh & some of the letters are smudged. The printer in the office was still running when you got here, right?” this earned him a nod from Edrisa. “No fingerprints, though, he was smart enough to wear gloves. Which brings me to my assumption that he had planned this long beforehand. The bruises show that he was strangled & while we still have to wait for the autopsy, I’m almost entirely sure that he was killed because of that. I believe the stab wounds were caused after he died. The way his words were written sounds way too passionate for an accident. No, this guy, he was enjoying it. If it were an accident, he would have left the scene way sooner. But he took the time to type a letter & print it, to complete his mission by laying it right on top of our victim’s chest.” Malcolm finished & looked around to find everyone rolling their eyes except for you. Whenever he started rambling & piecing evidence together, you simply stood there mesmerized. This time was not different. His eyes met yours & he shot you a little smile which you copied.

“Anything else you wanna tell us? Like, why you’re way too excited about this entire thing?” JT spoke up. You gave him a little slap & chuckled.

“Don’t act like it’s something new.” laughing when you looked at his face.

“Okay, guys. Wrap it up here, we need to continue this at the precinct.” Gil’s authority voice came through & you all knew better than to mess with him.

Malcolm, Dani & JT were already in one of the offices when you & Gil came in. Usually, you asked Gil to take you everywhere, mostly because you got rather shaky during cases & you did not trust yourself enough to drive on your own. Gil told you he did not mind at all.

“Found anything useful?” you asked when you entered & looked over JT’s shoulder to make out what he was doing on his laptop. Malcolm stood at the front of the room, right in front of the whiteboard & was too busy sorting his thoughts to even notice you. Dani told you that they had no luck just yet & soon you found yourself helping them with research, something you were incredibly good at. Gil had left for a while but when he got back, he brought each of you a cup of coffee, knowing it was bound to be a long night without much rest. Being the stubborn person that you were, you declined his request of you calling it a night & heading back home. You were onto something & could not stop right now. Gil let the topic die down with a long sigh. The five of you spent the entire night looking for clues & connections & by the time the sun started rising, you had a plan filed out to catch the killer.

After hours of research, mostly from you, you found out that the victim had very wealthy parents. Parents who loved their kid like nothing else. Parents who would do anything for their kid. Checking his social media profiles, you could tell that he was not silent about his wealth or the love he felt for his parents. “Enough to get our killer started.” Malcolm had said. It took you a while but after checking James’ classmates, you had a suspect & after checking his social media accounts, you knew where you had to go to catch him. Sometimes, things could be so easy, so clear to see. Probably a bad idea to expect you were right with everything but you had a good feeling. Yet, you could not quite understand how someone could kill just because of envy. Just because they did not have what someone else did.

Your suspect spent almost all of his evenings in a local pub, not too far away from the precinct. It was a small pup, not a lot of people, but since it was Friday, you expected it to be filled tonight.

“Why does (Y/N) have to be bait again?” Malcolm asked after discussing the plan yet another time.

“Because she looks more like a guest of a pub like that. You would be out of place, so would Dani & JT.” Gil reasoned. He did not like the idea either but it was probably the best shot they had.

“Right, because if I make an effort I can actually look like an alcoholic. Is that what you’re saying?” despite your chuckle, you found yourself growing more & more nervous. Malcolm noticed right away, didn’t comment on it though.

“What I’m saying is that we all want this asshole locked up & I don’t want you to look like an alcoholic. I want you to go there as if you just got done with work for the day. Take a seat at the bar. We’ll be connected with you this entire time, we’ll hear your conversation. Wait a little & if he doesn’t approach you then you will. Understood?” Gil looked around the room, kept his focus on you, though, & when you nodded he told you all to head off & get this party started.

 “You’re nervous.” you flinched when you heard a voice beside you. Malcolm. Of course.

“I’m not. Just preparing myself.” you did not mean to sound this harsh but he did not really pay attention to that.

“So your shaking hands are a form of preparation?” he teased but you could not focus on his way of calming you right now. Your anxious mind was killing you.

“Look, Mal, I need to go, okay? We’ll talk later.” & before he even had the chance to answer, you were sprinting off.

Ordering a strong drink at the bar in the hopes of it calming your nerves, you tried acting as if you did go out every night. In fact, you were highly uncomfortable. Crowds made your anxiety act up & pubs were usually worse. Drunk people wanting to get laid or whatever. It just was not your world. Anyway, you had better things to focus on. Your suspect had already walked up to the bar & took, much to your dismay, a seat too far away from you to start an actual conversation. Quickly informing your team, an idea popped into your head. He would start taking an interest in you if you got him to grow envious. So without overthinking, you grabbed your phone from your purse & pretended dialing someone.

“Hi mom! How are you?” as much as it hurt saying those words, you felt accomplished when you noticed the suspect’s eyes on you. “Great, as always! We still on for lunch tomorrow?...Perfect! Actually, I wanted to thank you for the purse you got me! I found the package earlier today, you are crazy. That’s way too much.” if it were not for your job at the NYPD, you would make one hell of an actor. Deep down, your heart was breaking a little more with each word you said. “Oh? I’m your favorite daughter? I’m your only daughter, mom, but thanks.” you gave a genuine, or at least you hoped it sounded genuine, laugh & continued. The man had already made his way over to you & took the empty seat next to you. You had him, not fully but almost. Just keep going, you thought to yourself. “Tell dad I miss him, too! I’ll make sure to meet up with him soon. A much needed father-daughter weekend. It has been too long…Alright, I love you too, bye.” you ended your call & placed the phone back into your purse. Gil would kill you after you finished this case. Once again you were improvising but at least it got you here, sitting next to a possible killer. Possible killer? No, you knew it was him. He made it rather obvious after that fake phone call. Thinking about what you had just said on the phone got cut short by the man beside you speaking up.

“Sounds like a nice mom.” a drink in his hand, his gaze not focused on you but on the liquid in his glass.

“Oh, she’s the best. I’m lucky to have her. Same goes for my dad.” these words hurt so bad & if you were not so focused on arresting this asshole you would have started breaking down right in the middle of this bar.

“I’m Enrico, by the way.” he held out his hand for you to shake which you did.

“(Y/N).” faking another smile at him, you were surprised that your silly plan actually seemed to work. This dude was desperate. And it made him extremely dangerous.

“(Y/N), wanna head out & catch some fresh air? This pub is filling up.” he placed money on the counter, paying for not only his but also your drink. Thanking him, you got up. When his hand grabbed yours, you slightly flinched but did not pull away. The thought of your team waiting outside with handcuffs made you breathe easier. Arriving outside did not exactly put your mind at ease. Where was your team? Just when you wanted to turn around, you felt a strong grip around your waist & a cloth being held in front of your nose & mouth. There was not even enough time to scream before you were met with darkness.

Loud voices woke you up. A gunshot. Shit, why could you not move? Where the fuck were you? Looking down at your wrists, you saw them being chained tightly to a chair. Suddenly, a person was kneeling in front of you & you were surprised to find Gil helping you out of the chains. His mouth was moving but your heartbeat was too loud to make out any other noises.

“Have you got him?” Gil rolled his eyes at your question but soon after, nodded. This could have ended badly for you & he was just happy to see you alive & breathing.

“You hurt?” this time his voice was more serious. He looked you over but besides the bruises on your wrists, you seemed fine. Shaking your head no was enough for him to drop it for now.

“That was stupid, (Y/N). We could’ve walked in there & just arrested him in that damn pub. Why did you think it was a good idea to start this whole pretending thing?”

“Could we please not do this today, Gil? I’m tired.” you felt ashamed, embarrassed that you did not handle the situation better. Usually, you were way more careful when it came to other cases. You could not even tell why you thought you needed to act out an entire scene. It felt like the right decision at the time.

“Malcolm? Come over here.” Gil decided to let you rest for tonight but he sure as hell would teach you a lesson tomorrow. He could not have another person risking everything & acting irresponsible. He already had Malcolm. No need to have another one like him.

“(Y/N)? Oh, thank God.” Malcolm came jogging over to where you & Gil were. A small smile started forming, signaling that you were fine.

“Take her home with you. She shouldn’t be alone tonight.” & with that he left you & Malcolm alone.

Two hands came into view & you let yourself be pulled up into a standing position. Malcolm still held onto you since your legs were on the verge of giving out. After a few seconds, though, you felt steady enough & thanked him for helping you. Without another word, he took your hand in his & dragged you outside to his car. Any other day, you would have blushed like crazy but your exhaustion was overpowering your crush. Malcolm opened the passenger side for you & helped you in. Then, he got around to the driver’s side. His body turned towards you & when you noticed that the car still had not been started, you found Malcolm staring at you. Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. After a long pause & a deep breath of his, Malcolm’s voice broke the silence in the car.

“That was-“

“Stupid, I know. Gil already told me.” usually, you would have sounded sarcastic but tonight, you did not have the strength to try & act like you were fine. Because if you were honest, everything that had happened got you thinking. Not that you could have died but everything that had happened with your parents. How awful they treated you. How abusive they were. Not trying to start another conversation, Malcolm started the engine & drove up to his apartment. Gil’s order, after all. Though, he had to admit that he liked the idea of you being close to him. Hell, he could have lost you today. He could have lost you & you still had no idea about his feelings for you. Simply because he was too much of a coward when push came to shove.

The car ride was silent & the tension could have been cut with a knife. Once or twice you almost started talking, wanting to explain yourself. Why you were so exhausted. It was not the first time you got close to death but it was certainly the first time where your past came catching up. Each time, though, you chickened out.

“I’m sorry.” it was you who spoke up first when you entered Malcolm’s apartment.

“What for?” Malcolm turned his focus back to you.

“I made this case unnecessarily hard for you guys. I should’ve handled it better. It’s just…this thing with this fake phone call, it was…fuck, how do I say this?” the last part you mumbled to yourself but when Malcolm spoke up again, you knew he had heard you.

“It’s okay. Gil told me about your parents. I get it, I do. I probably would’ve done the same thing & then it would’ve been you & Gil telling me I was stupid.” you chuckled lightly & Malcolm was happy that you were not mad at him for knowing about your past. He had been aware of your struggles before, now he could finally tell where they were coming from.

Strangely, you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders, now that Malcolm knew. At least you knew he would never judge you, he had his own…familial issues after all. Tears started forming in your eyes & you tried blinking them away angrily, frustrated that you were losing it now even though the situation had been dealt with.

“Come here.” Malcolm opened his arms & you gladly accepted the invitation. Throwing yourself onto him like your life depended on it. His arms wrapped strongly around you. Not in an uncomfortable way, more like in a comforting way. The two of you simply stood in the middle of his apartment, not saying anything, he let you cry it all out & in that moment, it was all you needed.

“Thank you. Sorry for messing up your shirt.” a quiet laugh escaped you. It was not much but it was a good start.

“It’s no problem, really. Here, I’ll bring you some clothes to sleep in, I’m sure you don’t wanna sleep in work clothes?” Malcolm opened one of his drawers & grabbed a basic t-shirt & some sweatpants. Not much but definitely way more comfortable than what you were wearing right now. This was not your first time being at Malcolm’s home so you helped yourself & moved into his bathroom to take a quick shower & change into his clothes. It only took you about ten minutes, you were craving sleep.

“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Malcolm was setting up his couch to sleep on when you came out of the bathroom.

“Nope, forget it. I wont let you take that couch.” you argued.

“Hey, it’s a comfortable couch!” he defended his way too expensive piece of furniture.

“What about your restraints?”

“Don’t need them when you’re around.” Malcolm let slip without much thought. Only when you tilted your head & raised your eyebrows did he realize what he had just said. “I mean…I don’t know. I’m usually much calmer when I’m with you.” It was funny to see Malcolm trying to explain himself. He was embarrassed but you were putting a stop to it right away.

“Okay, so I guess it would help even more when you’re right next to me, am I right? Your bed is big enough, Mal.” your sweet smile was convincing enough & soon you found yourself laying on one side of the bed while Malcolm was occupying the other.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved or said anything. The silence was not uncomfortable, the situation was still new for the both of you. Yet, you knew what you wanted. What you needed. So you grabbed one of Malcolm’s hands, turned around & let his arm fall around your waist. This action caught him off guard but he relaxed into the new position quickly. While the both of you still had not confessed, this felt like a step into the right direction. You felt safe in his embrace & knew you could be your true self with him. No hiding whatsoever. That thought made you smile. Exhaustion soon took over but the last words you heard before falling into a peaceful slumber were: Sleep well, (Y/N). I’ve got you. Afterwards, he pressed a light kiss on your shoulder & fell asleep himself. Tonight, your struggles could be forgotten. At least for a few hours until morning came around. Then, you still had enough time to deal with whatever was happening between you & Malcolm. Tomorrow, you could deal with your past some more. But right now, all you wanted was to have a peaceful night & Malcolm could give you just that.

Published (03/25/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandom-queen67, @cons-tit-ution, @where-thesundoesntshine, @itsanemu0101, @chill-fangirl, @angelnyx, @octopus5555, @the-unknown-fan-girl (thanks for your support <3 - sorry if I tagged you mistakenly/please let me know if I did)

[hekatekun]

Missed Opportunities: a look at 246 dynamics

This will be covering the relationships between Karamatsu, Ichimatsu, and Todomatsu. Specifically how they could be "better off" but for reasons aren't. Not blmatsu. A long post, but not particularly in depth. The great thing about Osomatsu-san is that things can be as serious as you want them to be; take all this with a grain of salt.

I would say the defining trait between 246 is that there is a lot of "missed opportunity" or "what could have been." You know, “things didn’t have to be this way.” More specifically, this is Karamatsu's relationship with the other two. Not that this cannot be remedied, but for now nothing is happening. Not any time soon, either. Probably. These aren’t shortcomings they’ll be getting over soon. Interestingly enough, I might have even said this was also applicable to 110 up until recently - so let's start there.

110MATSU: Something of a moving arc going here. Season 1 they’re at their most antagonistic towards each other, with their more docile moments occurring later in the season (most notably the hunt for 123 inside Dayon). Ichimatsu particularly, as Todomatsu has never been one to pick fights. He’s vindictive and isn’t afraid of confrontation, but doesn’t mean he wants to stick his neck out. Ichimatsu, on the other hand, has no qualms being aggressive. He will double-down on embarrassing the fuck out of Totty (as he should). If there is one thing the hivemind has taught all of them, it’s that no brother is above the other, and everyone will equally be dragged back to this self-made hell.

So S1 is the season of “no mercy,” but we see a shift! “ESP Kitty” lays Ichimatsu’s secret in front of everyone: vulnerability. Todomatsu (and 135) sees him like the normie he is for the first time in a real good light, a permanent change. Effectively, by “Dayon Tribe,” this lack of aggression when 456 are left to their own devices becomes a staple of the trio (if we ignore Jyushimatsu’s winter-induced insanity). 

In this same timeframe, Ichimatsu gets a real understanding of just how ruthless the crybaby youngest brother is. And by S2 they realize they have a lot more in common than they realized. A certain self-awareness that certain others lack. Totty could easily be lumped in with suiriku as a tryhard who doesn’t know when to quit, but it becomes apparent this isn’t the case. Sure, Totty’s a tryhard - he craves positive attention and will do what he can to get it, but he’ll never reach the level of Karamatsu and Choromatsu. 110 doesn’t need to “impress” each other. Completely vibing. They prefer each other’s company (and Jyushimatsu’s) over the other 3. They’re not each other’s favorite, by a long shot, but S2 they seem more comfortable around each other.

The movie provides a bit of catalyst, and S3 seems keen on keeping it apart of the continuity, so it’s not far fetched to assume their bonding moment in the movie is what led to their current relationship in S3. An ally has been established, and they can be more honest around each other as a result.

What’s “missed opportunity” is that they both underestimated the other, and what they have now could have been achieved earlier in life. Better late than never! However, they both still suck at communicating, but for now battling with barbed words or getting wrapped up in whatever holds their attention still shows they’re (usually) on the same wavelength.

ZAIMOKUMATSU: If Totty is similar to Ichi, it's not surprising he holds to same distaste for Karamatsu. Theoretically speaking, they should be each other's "brother." It's obvious that Choromatsu and Osomatsu are a "duo," and same with Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu. Whether you wanna include Oso-kun or not, it's evident that they do not click the same way the others do with their “designated brother.” 

Oso-kun makes it more “angsty” though, or at least makes this reboot interesting. If Zaimoku was more established as children, this clearly isn't carried to their adult selves. That's just life. They fell apart, growing up, and letting time split them naturally. They still like each other, hang out, but there's no real spark there. How can you when one of you refuses to break character. You could say they're similar to Nenchuu, preferring each other's company only in the greater group dynamic. We’ve established they're both tryhards, but Todomatsu has the self-awareness to know when to drop his pretenses, and doesn't understand Karamatsu's more irrational quirks. Sure, tryhards try hard but they're brothers - they already know each other. No need to impress. For Karamatsu’s part of it, I would say it’s both “always needing to be on top of his public image no matter who sees him (including brothers)” and just... He wants to dress like that. So painful.

Todomatsu’s “fatal flaw” within the group is that he’s quite disconnected from the hivemind. This a repeated issue they address, from “Todomatsu & the 5 Demons” to “Todomatsu’s Line.” He doesn’t understand certain social conventions that “make no sense” from experience. For instance, “Todomatsu’s Line” addresses how secretive he is, but he’s only secretive because he knows if he told them about his life they wouldn’t care. They’re only getting on his ass because he’s pulling away from them. The 6 of them are “all or nothing,” so even just one brother leaving is detrimental to their weird inner-brother politics. It gets rid of the facade they perform under, and must confront reality as a result. And so, they punish him accordingly. We know Karamatsu is already the group punching bag, and Totty soon joins him.

S3E5 “Well, Yeah” with these 2 fighting over the cashier, Karamatsu is willing to challenge him because he considers Todomatsu "harmless." Karamatsu is easily intimidated, we know this, but holds none of those sentiments towards Totty. They're both petty crybabies, and would rather tear each other down than team up.

Zaimoku is amiable with each other (for the most part), but typically avoid each other - or at least wouldn't seek the other out if it can be helped. A simple mismatch. Good thing they have 4 other brothers.

So, they're both the bottom of the barrel, and yet they never have each other's back. As with all 6, they’re self-serving. There’s safety in numbers, and they’re better off joining 4 than defending 1. They have created an environment that punishes whoever wanted to be the bigger man. In the most literal sense: nice guys finish last around these parts.

I could keep going. Todomatsu being banished to sea for a whole skit, Todomatsu being fired from the family, the entirety of the Karamatsu Incident. No one’s safe, but truly Zaimoku sits at the lowest tiers, even in the family. 

Leftovers who don't even want to pick each other. Can't blame them, they're both insufferable. They don't respect each other, either. 236 is committed to personas that they think will make people like them. They all more or less hold the belief of “I’m not like these guys, I’m better.” However, Choromatsu genuinely likes Karamatsu. Totty does not. How could he when all he sees is a cringey dude who doesn’t know when to call it quits? Choromatsu is just as bad, and doesn't really consider Karamatsu anything but "harmless."

Being left alone and behind is the worst thing for them, but yet they still don’t want each other, even if they’re “clearly the easiest choice.” That sense of being the “default” choice, rather than a legitimate connection or personalities that get along. Another similarity to Nenchuu, where they’re better off being friends than not out of convenience.

IROMATSU: Take what I just said about Zaimoku and amplify the negativity. Rather than a natural falling out, it is a repeated violent rejection on Ichimatsu's part. It's genuine animosity, because Ichimatsu hates tryhards who lack self-awareness. It's no surprise he doesn't care for Suiriku's company and, until recently, Todomatsu's. The thing is, Ichimatsu is a tryhard. He tried hard in high school, and, though in the opposite direction (”I’m not like these guys, I’m worse”), continues to try hard now.

Concerning Karamatsu, he is equal parts resentful and envious. If the movie implies they used to be friends around high school, it wouldn't surprise me if he resented Karamatsu's "transformation" because Ichi was unable to get over his own issues ("regressing" after high school, though really considering how taxing it was to keep that up he’s probably been burnt out). So yeah, introvert buddies.

He admitted to Choromatsu he finds those who still try even in the face of failure "scary." Ichimatsu's greatest fear is putting himself out there and still being rejected despite his best efforts. That's, again, just how life works, but it's a valid fear to have. 

Seeing Karamatsu, someone he considers legitimately stupid, still put his best foot forward (probably on some level) does feel like a slap in the face. It's also just. Painful. Another cringeass clueless older brother, another ally lost.

(Also I can’t ignore how it’s Osomatsu - one of Ichi’s favorites/most tolerable brothers - is the one who calls Karamatsu’s support “teasing” after claiming himself Ichi would kill his own boss; Osomatsu knows how to talk to each brother in a way they’ll understand)

The difference between Zaimoku and Iro is that the former is always played off as joking and while the latter is still funny and over-exaggerated, it usually also comes across as “Did this cross a line?” It tips into real malevolence because, not only does Ichimatsu act opposite how he feels (except for cats), but even in comedy there’s always a hint of sincerity. They’re all cartoonishly violent, but that comes with the idea that that’s actually how they feel in some form. Ichimatsu can’t handle direct support and attention, and he certainly wouldn’t want it from a guy whose social anxiety is worse than his.

And throughout all this, Karamatsu just... ignores it. He doesn't get it, he probably wouldn't even want to know. He legitimately wants to be like this, and doesn’t really get how others don’t find it as attractive (like how Choromatsu doesn’t get why talking about his aspirations isn’t wanted in conversation - they’re not really ones to read the room when it comes to their own shortcomings). So he "avoids" 110. No point seeking out their company and be rejected for "no reason." He doesn't want criticism, and none of them want communication. I should reiterate, this is all comedy. It’s funny. I love it! But it’s slapstick with thought. 

Short-sighted, they prioritize instant gratification above anything else. The end result, unsurprisingly, is a group of brothers who find it impossible to talk to each other - to bully and harass - when they could do better for one another.

[papergirllife]

Chapter 1

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem​ (lmk if you wanna be on the list)

It has always been like this, being locked up in the study room so you could ‘study’ for hours end, or that’s what they think you’re doing. You studied in an elite academy with your smart cousins, only to have you graduating with average grades, which of course, earned you a harsh scolding from your parents. Now, you’re supposed to be studying business for university, even though you had zero interests in it, the subject is fine, it’s what you’re studying it for that irks you. Your family runs a business in Seoul, but from what you can see by secretly skimming through the files as well as the arguments behind shut doors with your aunts and uncles, things aren’t going as planned.

You don’t have many friends, nor a phone, they took it away from you when you wanted to go out with some friends, claiming that it’s a distraction that should be locked away. You felt like Rapunzel, locked away from the world, they don’t have any love for you, you’re quite sure they don’t, they had once slapped your face ten times when you had a boyfriend behind their backs, and you were 15 for god’s sake, along with other things that you rather not say, you don’t want to relive all those painful memories.

Sometimes you wished you could go back to the time when you were a child, when you were at your grandparents’ in the morning, her warm smile and loving eyes, when you didn’t know what laid ahead. You wish you hadn’t realised that you were being abused, you used to think what you went through was the same for other kids as well, until you talked about it with other people and scared them away from you. The painful memories sinking back in made the words in front of you blurry as you felt tears seeping in your eyes.

Depression.

It’s deemed as something ridiculous in your family, and that people who are suffering from it are weaklings and don’t deserve anything from this society.

‘Does that mean I’m weak?’

You never went to therapy nor took any medication for your mental illnesses, and recently the development of anxiety attacks are constantly putting you on edge. You have them at least once a week, sometimes you even had problem breathing, but you couldn’t tell anyone about it, nor anyone would ever listen to your cries of help.

“We’re going to help sell your uncle’s house this Saturday,” your mother said as she was folding the clothes.

“The mansion he recently bought?” you asked, confused as to why he would sell the mansion he was obsessed with just two months ago.

“Yes, he bought that without our permission back then, so now we need to sell it for funds, and you need to be there to entertain the potential buyers, give them a tour around the house and other enquiries. You have to direct them to us if you think they’re truly interested, it’s going to be an open house concept party,” cold, that’s how your mother sounded, her claims of putting family above everything else flying out of the window whenever her demands are not met.

“Okay, is there anything else?” you asked, hoping to be excused as soon as possible.

“No, you can continue your studies in the study room.”

That’s what basic communication is in your life, you tried talking about your interests, your opinions, but they either fall on deaf ears, or you would receive a lecture for having a ‘false perspective’. You’ve given up on talking to them about things that are going in on your life now, they don’t listen anyways.

The party is filled with old men with their muffin tops waddling around with a wine glass in hand and talking obnoxiously loud, obviously having too much money to go by, looking at how overly filled their bellies are.

You tried hiding away in the house, but your family kept pushing you out to talk to them. Their stares were not intimidating, no, but it made you feel uncomfortable as their gazes linger a bit too long on your legs or anywhere else, and the way they didn’t want to let go after they shook your hand, made your anxiety levels rise to the roof.

You would find random excuses to run away, like going to refill their glass or saying you need to use the loo, your heartbeat going as fast as your legs could take you away from them.

When you came back out from hiding for the 6th time, both your parents were rushing you to meet someone new.

“He’s a man of great fortune and power, so the chances of him buying this house is high. Don’t try to hide from this one, or you’ll get it when we get home,” your mother warned, her eyes side eying you with daggers.

Your mother’s threat made you sick inside, what are you to them? A scapegoat?

You weren’t paying attention to who or where was she pushing you to, but once you stopped, the man in front of you made your eyes as big as saucers.

‘How is a man like this doing here?’ you thought to yourself.

“Hello Mr Suh, we’re quite busy at the moment with other potential buyers. Why don’t we allow my daughter, Y/N, to show you around?” your mother said, her voice overly sweet, like day old cotton candy.

Once you were in front of him, your parents left. Leaving you helpless as your social anxiety kicks in, your eyes trained on his shoulder, eye contact, especially from this man, made you very nervous.

“C-can I give you a tour?’ you asked, hoping to ditch him halfway.

Johnny looks at the way your eyes avoid his, it wasn’t hard, given how tall he was, there’s just something so intriguing about you, so different from the girls that throw themselves at him with zero doubts.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Johnny,” Johnny introduced himself by bending down slightly, a friendly smile on his face, one that you can’t decipher whether he had similar intentions as those nasty old men had.

To say that the tour was horrible would’ve been an understatement, you kept stuttering under his piercing gaze, instead of looking at you like you were his next meal like other potential buyers, Johnny was genuinely listening to what you have to say. You didn’t think the house was any interesting, it was just a bunch of useless expensive things under one roof, like the movie room, the slides at the pool, the ‘mini’ bar. These things weren’t appealing to you, riches are overrated when it becomes too common, like your cousins and their different designs of Birkin bags, you weren’t exactly fond of their favourite alligator skinned ones as well.

Yet Johnny didn’t look at the cliche setting that you are currently presenting, instead his eyes are trained on yours, it wasn’t a scrutinizing gaze like the wives of those perverted men who stared down on you, nor anything that seems predatory, it only held calculation and observance. On the house? It doesn’t seem like it. On you? You can bet this whole house that he’s met women far more beautiful compared to a plain jane like you.

“T-that’s all for the tour, Mr Suh. Would you want me to direct you to my parents, if you’re interested?” you asked, hoping that you’d get to be alone again.

“Can you take me to the park nearby? I’d like to see the facilities available in this housing area,” he answered smoothly, as if he had calculated every little detail in his life.

You nodded wordlessly at his request, taking him to see the park nearby the house. It was a weird sight, having a man as tall as Johnny towering behind you.

“This is the park,” you pointed stupidly, cursing at yourself, obviously this is the park,  anyone with eyes could tell.

Johnny inhaled the breath of fresh air this area offered, his shoulders not as tensed up after. A smile decorated his handsome face as he turned towards you.

“Let’s sit.”

Johnny directed you to the nearest park bench, his size taking up most of the bench, yet he scoots into himself as you sat down next to him, giving you personal space.

‘Does he think I’m going to lower the price of the house for him? I don’t even know how much they’re selling it for,’ you thought, thinking this man must be mad that an unimportant person like you could negotiate with him.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Y/N. I’m not interested in the house,” Johnny said, breaking the silence.

Your mom isn’t going to be pleased when she hears this, you thought as you bit at your bottom lip, thinking about how harsh is she going to react if she didn’t get a buyer out of this event.

“Thank you for taking your time for considering through out this-

“I’m interested in you.”

Did you hear that correctly or was your mind playing tricks on you?

You stared at Johnny as his hand comes close to your face, he wasn’t pulling you closer, instead his fingers reached out to gently graze the underside of your eyes.

“I can see what you’re hiding,” Johnny said solemnly, his eyes showing you pity.

You quickly took out your compact mirror out of your pocket, checking to see if you did a bad job on the concealer for your puffy eyes today, but it looked fine.

“I used to be involve in theater, and I’ve seen people covering unwanted marks or eye bags on their face many times. It’s not obvious to most people, don’t worry,” Johnny explained.

The touch of his fingertips on your face was filled with warmth, as well as his eyes when he looked at you now, if his eyes were honey you’ll be as addicted as Winnie the Pooh. His touch was quickly gone as it had came, his hand placed back into his lap as he stares ahead.

“I’m not going to assume anything, but from what I can see, I don’t think you deserve to be going through what you’re facing now. And as for your family’s company, it’s not going to last long even if they managed to sell this property out. You’re going to be in a much more disappointing situation when that happens, I’ve been in the business game my whole life, my predictions hardly go astray anymore,” Johnny said without a sliver of judgement, he was just laying out the cards for you to observe.

Johnny reaches for a card in his coat pocket and handed it to you, it was his business card.

“I can take you away from all this chaos raging among your family, if you can call it a family that is. I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N,” Johnny said before standing up and walking away to the direction where his car awaits, his driver closing his door.

That was most definitely a statement.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline. 

Previous

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria. 

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.” 

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.” 

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?” 

“They’re wonderful.” 

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.” 

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?” 

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.” 

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered. 

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?” 

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.” 

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.” 

“I don’t have one,” she laughed. 

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.” 

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser. 

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.” 

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.” 

“I do as well.” 

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that. 

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs. 

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce. 

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked. 

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it. 

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.” 

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment. 

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him. 

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.” 

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?” 

“When the time is right.” 

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.” 

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?” 

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.” 

“Who says I-.” 

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building.  The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third. 

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach. 

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel. 

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned. 

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game. 

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice. 

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture. 

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on. 

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain. 

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone. 

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.” 

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief. 

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond. 

“LOOK AT ME!” 

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth. 

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!” 

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth. 

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization. 

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer. 

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.” 

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.” 

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured. 

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.” 

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.” 

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.” 

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.” 

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.” 

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything. 

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter. 

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight. 

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor.  Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink. 

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?” 

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.” 

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could. 

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.” 

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.” 

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him.  “What’s the point of doing this again?”  

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.” 

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful. 

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives. 

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.” 

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them. 

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever. 

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad. 

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce. 

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside. 

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly. 

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.” 

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach. 

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.” 

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then  turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.” 

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as  my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit. 

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.” 

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.  

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.” 

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?” 

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.” 

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off. 

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.” 

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?” 

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.” 

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.” 

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?” 

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?” 

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.” 

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud. 

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?” 

“It was alright.” 

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.” 

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?” 

“Not yet. I’m planning to.” 

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!” 

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek. 

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling. 

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.” 

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said. 

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted. 

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in. 

“By all means,” Demetria motioned. 

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria  noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.” 

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.” 

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?” 

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.” 

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing. 

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?” 

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.” 

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low 

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?” 

“Bruce-.” 

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth. 

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there. 

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table. 

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it. 

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat. 

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop. 

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there. 

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend 

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there. 

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop. 

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen. 

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria. 

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed. 

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention. 

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.” 

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.” 

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?” 

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice. 

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker. 

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria. 

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her. 

She watched from behind his shoulder. 

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd. 

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them. 

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.” 

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.” 

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel. 

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered. 

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted. 

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd. 

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.” 

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully. 

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.” 

She whimpered, closing her eyes. 

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!” 

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.” 

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars. 

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!” 

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream.  She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor. 

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.” 

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...” 

“You’re going to be alright.” 

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred. 

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate. 

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker. 

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps. 

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!” 

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly. 

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.” 

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on. 

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress: 

Hair/Makeup:

[ac3id]

redamancy

pairings: mirio togata x reader

summary: mirio gives you what you need. :-)

warnings: smut, public sex(even tho like no one is there but they do it in public), cum eating,,, yn n mirio r fuck buddies

word count: 2k

masterlist

part two¨̮♡

Even though you both had broken up a month ago, your sexual attraction to him did not disappear. He was amazing in bed and you missed the D. You were relieved when he confessed that he felt the same way. This led to a little less intimate relationship between the two of you. You went to him when you needed him and he came to you when he needed you. You both were just fuck buddies now and it was great, really. Casual sex with no strings attached. But for a while now, you hadn’t seen him and it was starting to piss you off. It had been a while since Mirio had attended classes, he had the unfortunate luck of catching the seasonal flu, locking himself up in his dorms and resting alone until he recovered.

Relieving yourself just wasn’t the same. You really needed him

You sighed as you looked out the window of your classroom, zoned out. The lunch bell had just rung and everyone in your class hurried up to leave. You did not hear someone calling you out until Nejire patted your back. You flinched escaping your daydream land and greeted Nejire who was followed by Tamaki. 

“Hey, both of you, what’s up?” You were a little surprised to see them here. They’re Mirio’s best friends and U.A’s big three, they knew everything about what happened between Mirio and you, but you weren’t as close to them as compared to your ex. “Mirio-” Tamaki began but Nejire quickly interjected. “How you doing today, Y/N?” She asked instead and Tamaki’s eyes widen in realization and he shied away, it did not go unnoticed by you. “I’m fine.” You replied with a polite smile, you saw your friends outside the classroom looking through the window signaling you to come to join them. You mouthed ‘wait’ and turned your attention back to your ex’s best friends. “Well…We were just checking up..Everyone’s getting the flu and all….” Tamaki started, his eyes looked roamed around the room landing everywhere but on you. It was nothing new, Tamaki despite of being one of the strongest in all of U.A had very bad social anxiety but seeing Nejire so uptight.

Something’s up.

Tamaki and Nejire made small talk with you and as they were leaving they had asked you drop by at Mirio’s and pick something up for them. You could tell there were underlying intentions by the way their body language seemed too stiff. The whole ordeal of dropping by to ‘check on you’- you knew something was up but you decided to listen to them anyway.

“Hey, Y/N? Is that you??” Mirio sat on the green grass in front of the dorms, waving at you. You make your way to him stopping at his feet. “Hey, Mirio,” you say and he pats the empty space beside you, “come on, sit down for a while. It’s good for you,” and you sit beside him groaning as the grass pricks at your bare skin making Mirio laugh. “So, why you here?” Your eyebrows knit together and you look at him in confusion, “Why am I here? Nejire and Tamaki told me to pick something up… You must have it.” Mirio stares at you, his expression similar to yours and sighs.

“I told them I missed you…So they- Nevermind. You can leave if you want to.” He sounds disappointed and you feel your heartache. “It’s fine, Mirio I’ll stay. I like hanging out with you.” You turn to him and smile. Mirio feels his heart beat faster, he feels like he’s falling in love with you all over again. An uncomfortable silence falls, you look around the area taking in the scenery. “So, how’s the fever?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I’m all fine now, I’ll start classes from tomorrow.”

“So I’ll finally see you on campus? Nice!” Mirio chuckles at your excitement. The silence falls again, after the break up it had been difficult for both of you to talk about normal things. It felt rather odd. Mirio started humming a peaceful melody and your brain searched for topics to talk about. “So, you’re staying here the entire day all alone?” You ask finally and Mirio hums in response. “Hey,” he begins, you feel his hand snaking around your waist pulling you closer to him. Soon, your side was pressed against his. “Come on, it’s been a while.”

His arm wraps around your body to keep you steady. His lips glide over the skin of your neck, causing you to writhe beneath him. He could tell by the subtle shift in your breathing that you were just as excited as he was. Mirio bites his way down your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone, blinking up at you mischievously. Your stomach flips in response at his eager moves. Your body arches slightly when you feel Mirio’s hand make its way under your skirt and down in the space between your thighs, cupping your sex. His touch setting your skin ablaze, your chest heaves at an alarming rate. Your body instinctively submitting to him, a quiet whine brushes past your lips as you open your legs wider for him—encouraging him.

Your breath hitches as his fingers grind small circles onto your clothed folds at a fast pace, sending electrifying pleasure rippling down your trembling body, letting out the sweetest whimpers he had ever heard. He chuckles lightly at the effect he’s having on you, swirling his finger around faster, tempting you. “You make the sweetest noises, Y/N,”

Mirio immediately pushes his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue eagerly slips into your mouth, devouring your moans and whimpers before pushing the damp fabric of your panties to the side and burying two fingers inside you, working them in a steady rhythm, making your toes curl in pleasure.one of your hands slides down from his pectorals and ghosts over his growing bulge, he moans into your mouth as you softly palm himself through his pants.

He draws back from your lips, eyes locked with yours and you feel your cheeks heat up. A smirk creeping up onto his face on hearing erotic moans leave from your lips, despite desperately attempting to hold them back. He’s curling his fingers and thrusting in a sharp and languid pace, knuckles slapping against your sex, tearing sobs from your mouth with every movement. You clench around his fingers, feeling your release approaching. With one hand Mirio quickly pulls his sweatpants along with his boxers to his thigh, his erect cock standing up against his stomach, pre-cum decorating the slit.

His hand moves to grip harshly the back of your thigh, pushing your knee to your chest. You barely get to react before Mirio impatiently withdraws his fingers from you and shoves his dick deep inside you, stretching you out entirely as a needy groan emits from his throat, his head tilting back, losing himself in pleasure as he focuses on how warm you feel around him. Pumping slowly in and out of you, watching your reaction as your walls fluttered around his length, your eyes rolling back as you take every inch of him.”i missed you so much ”

He grunts beginning to thrust sharp and harsh, adjusting to the new sensation you clench around him, making him see stars in broad daylight

“Such a good girl for me, always so damn tight” he groans in pleasure.

He speeds up his pace, penetrating into you roughly. Heavy, wanton, moans reverberating from his throat. His hand snakes up beneath your baggy shirt, your breath fastens when he grabs a firm handful of your breast, his thumb rubbing circles on your nipples, making you toss your head back abruptly “M-mirio I’m so close,” you cry out tears welling up in your eyes as you become overwhelmed by burning release.

Your body trembling with each rough thrust; the feeling of his erect member pulsing inside you making you mewl. Your hand reaches out to grip at his hair, your mouth agape in bliss, you’re whimpering and crying out his name. You lean forward and into his bottom lip as he thumbs your clit in a swift pace, his hips grinding and rocking against your own as he drills faster into you, his cock reaching spots inside of you that rob you of the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“Cum for me, baby,” he rasps out, resting his forehead against yours, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming sloppy, Mirio runs a hand through your hair, whispering words of praise against the top of your head. Your walls flutter around him again, and after a few more thrusts, the coil in your stomach explodes, sending you into ecstasy as you cum, a long drawn out moan of his name echoing in the air. He slumps against you as waves of orgasm wash through him, the pleasure so blinding he couldn’t think—a string of curses leaving his mouth, filling his cum into you as you erratically clench around him, his hot seed coating your walls.

His eyes ravishing the erotic sight of his release leaking from your core as he lazily pumped his fingers into you. He soon stilled, tucking himself in before slumping against you.

“Did we really do this out in the open?” You ask out of breath and Mirio hums in response. “No one else saw us. Don’t worry.” You sigh in relief, your arms push against Mirio’s chest as you try to get up. “I’ve got to get back,” you say but his arms tighten around your body as he holds you close, your chests heaving as your labored breathing relaxes a bit.

“Come on, Mirio,” You whine but eventually give in to enjoy the warm embrace. His hand dragging up and down your arm slowly, murmuring caring words into the shell of your ear. He brings his hand over yours, sliding his larger hand into yours, his heart melting when you intertwine your fingers with his, bringing your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. A content sigh leaves your lips. Your other hand cheekily resting on his thicc butt. The feeling the wetness from your core beginning to coat your inner thighs.

it was perfect

And that’s when the atmosphere changes. It never lasts forever, After a few minutes, you wriggle free from his grip, like you always do. excusing yourself to go clean yourself up, getting up on your sore legs and wobbling towards the dorms. “I should go clean up.” Mirio grabs your wrists and pushes you on the cold grass hovering over you. “Mirio, what the hell? I have to go!” you exclaim but Mirio hushes you, “You said you had to clean up, right? Let me help you.” He moves lower until his face is over your clothed cunt. He slips your panties off and shoves it into the pocket of his sweatpants. “What are you doing?” You start squirming under him, pissed at him you try prying him off your lower side but he doesn’t budge. His hands hold your thigh, forcing them open. Of course, you are no match for him after all. You feel Mirio’s wet tongue gliding up your thigh licking his cum mixed with your juices, “I don’t have the time for this..” you whisper, your fingers gripped on his soft blonde hair as his tongue moved upwards until it met your cunt.

Mirio licked up your slit swiftly earning a groan from you. He chuckled, suckling and kissing you clit. His tongue soon dipped into your hole eating you out, you whimper feeling the tingly feel bloom in your stomach, he was going to make you cum again. Your fingers tighten around his hair pulling on it while you moan out his name. Just as you feel your climax approaching, Mirio pulls away. You look up at him in disappointed while he smiles down, innocently like he hadn’t just kissed your cunt and left you hanging. “Y/N, you should get going. You’ll be late at this rate.” He stands up lowering his hand for you to get up. You grab onto it and steady yourself on the floor. “Mirio, my panties! Give them back!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

You glare at him, “You should really start heading back, you know.” He was right. There wasn’t much time left. It seemed Mirio wanted you to spend the rest of the day bare. You give him one last pleading look hoping he’d show you mercy but he still pulled up the innocent act, smiling at you, petting your head.

You sighed. It was going to be a long day.

taglist:   @mylovelyreblogs @amahzing004 @thoughtfulpandazine2 @the-one-who-ate-god @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @villain-hotline  @dabiisdaddy  @annimalq @reader-stash @rcjackie @leeladebris @expn @vocaloidinlove @edgycactus @neon-tries-writing @shiggydiggydicked @yandereguysgalsandmonsterpals @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @chxrryvibes @yanderesmemory @purple-rabanito @amajikistan99 @the-grimm-writer @n4dhii @imkumichan @akura-ous-lady @dabicakes @leeknowstoomuch @nereida19 @sahrafinee @uwubba @anime-girl-nikki @rekoii @badtimechara​ @peachyashell​ @weirdr-artiest​ @prince-zukohere​ @deliciousstar​ @murderfesto​  @mltcp​  @alunafort​  

<dm us if u want to be added or removed from the taglist>

<Feedbacks are really appreciated >

ᶦ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰᶦᵐ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⁻૮( ꒦ິ⍣꒦ີ)ა

<3

[iidascalves]

First patrol (Hawks x reader)

So I got a little carried away writing the beginning of this one, but I just REALLY love Mirko. I wasn’t sure what to use as the reader’s quirk so I just did the ability to create telekinetic force fields with energy in different shapes and shit. Also, (h/n) will mean your hero name. Once I finished I writing this I decided it was a little long so I split it into two parts. I guess this first part can be considered a various x reader lol. I’ll post part 2 soon! I’m having a lot of fun with these so please don’t be shy to send requests or asks! Thanks :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“THAT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR” Bakugou screeched in the common room.

“I literally don’t know what you want me to say.” You stared blankly at Bakugou as he was practically foaming at the month. His hands began to emit smoke.

“Kacchan, calm down! (Y/n), I’m happy you got such a great opportunity!” Izuku tries to congratulate you while holding a death grip on Bakugou’s arm. “You and Mirko will make a great duo!”. You smiled at his reassurance and braced yourself for his detailed mutterings about the specifics of both your and your future mentor’s quirks.

“Thank you. I’m excited but nervous.” You shifted in your seat while your hands were in tight fists. “I’m excited to prove myself.”

“I’ve met Mirko before. She’ll enjoy working with you, I’m sure of it.” Todoroki spoke for the first time all evening from the dinner table as he slurped cold soba. You honestly had forgotten he was there.

“Oh yeah! Your father and Mirko team up sometimes, right?” Izuku mentioned as he turned on the couch to face Todoroki.

“Yes.” Todoroki took a slurp of soba before continuing. “If you run into him, be wary. He’s more concerned about his reputation than a rookie looking for guidance or protection. That’s why Hawks does his own thing most of the time. My dad can’t be bothered with anyone else.”

“I’m sure (y/n) will be in good hands with Mirko.” Izuku tried to ease the tension in the room. As Todoroki is a man of few words, it’s rare for him to share things like this. You decided you should head to bed to prepare for your long day tomorrow.

“Alright guys. Thanks for chatting with me. I’m off to bed.” After replies of good nights and wishes of luck, you tried sleep off the anxiety until tomorrow.

_____________________________________________________________

“Ready to rumble, (y/n)?!” Mirko enthusiastically greeted you when you entered her office.

“Yes Ma’am! Thank you for letting me join you today!” You bowed to Mirko and straightened up as you heard her walking toward you.

“No need to be so formal!” Mirko gave you a big slap on the back as she passed you. With your back aching and stinging, you closely followed her to the elevator. “I don’t take just anyone out to patrol with me, (Y/n). You got something special, kid.” She gave you a large smile as the elevator door closed. You were thrilled to finally start your internship, with your idol none the less.

“Thank you, Rumi. It means a lot coming from you.” You tried to calm the reddening of your face as you two descend to the lobby of her agency.

“Don’t sweat it! And remember that on the street I’m Mirko. Right, (h/n)?” Mirko smiled at you as the elevator rang.

_____________________________________________________

After a few hours of patrol you and Mirko still hadn’t had any calls or serious confrontations. Although popperazzi and other media outlets seemed to follow you both everywhere, they were only taking pictures from a distance as not to interfere. “Sorry that this is such a quiet day. I wanted to see you in action!” Mirko began chatting with you and you two walked.

“No, it’s alright. Something is bound to come up anyway, right?” You smiled and continued to survey your surroundings. A teenage boy ran up.

“You’re Mirko, right?” His face was a deep red.

“The one and only! Want a picture or something?” Mirko smiled at the boy. His head whipped around before his eyes frantically landed on you.

“Hi. Can you take our picture, please?” You held up the fan’s phone to take a picture with Mirko.

“1,2,3, smile!” You continued taking a few pictures until Mirko put her hand up to her ear intercom. You handed the phone back to the guy and awaited news. Mirko nodded at you after coming off the intercom.

“Let’s go. No time to waste.” Mirko turned serious as she dashed off to the lower part of town. You used your quirk to manifest a board to ride on in order to keep up.

As unfamiliar buildings flew past, you couldn’t recall seeing the surrounding landmarks on the sheet of information Mirko gave you about your sector.

“Mirko, are we close?” You grew anxious and unsure as you approached the scene.

“Yeah,” Mirko grinned as she gained momentum by swinging off a lamppost. “Stay sharp. This is uncharted territory for you.” You nodded and picked up speed, feeling the wind press against you.

Finally, you saw the scene you were summoned to. A monstrous villain was holding a car with a family trapped inside above his head. You didn’t recognize the villain, he was most likely an angry civilian that snapped. The villain was towering about thirty feet above you. He was angrily screaming, the veins on his neck and arms were bulging and strained. It was obvious this guy never used his quirk like this before.

“You think he used an enhancer?” You kept your eyes glued to the car the villain gripped.

“Probably.” Mirko’s smirk wavered and her brows furrowed. “Bunch of bastards have been juicing up and wrecking shit recently.” The villain began to shake the car and screech in anger.

“I’ll get the car, you get the guy?” You asked Mirko as your eyes focused in on the car and you activated your quirk.

“Read my mind. Just give me a boost.” Mirko smirked and slid a foot back in preparation to jump. “Let’s go.” Mirko lept sideways causing the villain to whip his head in her direction. You raised your left hand and manifested a platform under the car. Your right arm shot out as you made a small platform about seven feet in the air for Mirko to vault off of. Your eyes remained on the car as you heard Mirko’s feet pound on the platform and you saw a swift white streak knock the villain from under the vehicle. While Mirko repeatedly kicked the villain into submission, you lowered the car with the clamoring family to the ground. You ran to the car and escorted each member to the side where a small crown was gathered. You turned to see Mirko with the villain in a suffocating leg triangle. The villain’s screeching quieted and his body began to lose muscle and shrink.

“Mirko, should we take him in for questioning?” You pulled handcuffs out of your pocket and placed them into Mirko’s outstretched hand.

A gust of wind passed behind you making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You also felt an intense warmth behind you. “We can take him off your hands. You’re in our jurisdiction after all.” You spun around to see Endeavor and Hawks. Your hands clenched and your chest tightened at the sight of the two top heroes.

“Number 1 and 2, always a pleasure.” Mirko hauled the villain to his feet. “So what if we’re in your jurisdiction? You guys didn’t get here fast enough. That’s why we were called.” Mirko smirked.

“Mirko,” Endeavor began to speak. ” we were being briefed on an important future mission. Our delay was expected so they called you and uhh.. Shouto’s classmate.”

“’Shouto’s classmate’ is not the name of my intern, Endeavor.” Mirko put a hand on her hip and raised a brow at the number one hero. Her ears perked up at the arrival of an idea. “How about this: we walk this jerk to the precinct and do introductions over some lunch?”.

“As long as the place has chicken.” Hawks smiled at Mirko. You wanted to admire his handsome features, but decided against it out of fear of embarrassment if he caught you. “Endeavor treats since he was the reason we’re late!”. Endeavor crossed his arms and sighed. He then began walking in the direction of the precinct. Mirko and Hawks shared a laugh and Mirko began hauling the villain behind Endeavor. You paused before following. Your eyes were still trained on Endeavor. You wondered if he would have cooperated at all if you fought with him instead of Mirko. Hell, he didn’t even bother to learn your name after being friends with Shouto for the past year.

“So what’s your deal, kid?”. Hawks was suddenly walking by your side. You tensed at his sudden presence and looked ahead towards Mirko.

“My deal?” You glanced at him to see if his eyes were still on you, eyes briefly meeting before your head turned.

“Yeah. Does Endeavor spook you or something?”

“No.” You could feel your face getting warm. “He’s just intimidating, I guess. And hearing what Shouto has to say about him doesn’t really help.” You didn’t like being questioned like this.

“I get that. He’s a shitty dad.” Hawks stretched as you two walked. “He’s also a pretty difficult guy to get to know. He’s starting to change for the better though. But his social skills are still shit.” Hawks looked over at you to make sure his remark made you smile. He knew if he kept talking you’d loosen up and get more comfortable. “How’s your first patrol going?”

You glanced at him and smiled. “I can’t complain about lunch with the top two heroes.” Hawks laughed.

“Yeah, I guess. I’d say you’re doing pretty well for your first time. Mirko doesn’t team up with just anyone, you know.” Your face got even warmer as you became flustered once again.

“I’m mainly only good for defense and rescue.” You looked away from Hawks and started to fidget with your hands.

“Don’t be modest, kid. I saw you rescue that family back there.” Your face was own fire upon hearing his praise. “Also saw you kick ass at the sports festival. If it were up to me, I’d have you do more offense training.”

“T-thanks.” You said shyly as you scanned around you for something to look at to distract you from your own embarrassment. Things remained pretty quiet as you continued to walk to the precinct.

[eternalglitch]

Like Father Like Son: Chapter 3

Prologue Arc 1: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

Read it HERE on ao3.

Chapter Specific Warnings: no specific ones (please see the general ones listed in the prologue)

Chapter Three: All Green and Blue

“He’s not picking up. Why isn’t he picking up?!” Mikey demanded, looking up from his phone. The youngest couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot, a sort of buzzing energy from his anxiety making him want to move. Why couldn’t his brothers walk faster?

“Yeah, it is odd he wouldn’t answer either of us…” Donnie agreed, squinting at his wrist tech. “I can’t locate his phone’s location, either. It’s either out of battery or broken.”

Finally, Mikey thought with relief, Raph’s pace noticeably quickened, his brothers right on his heels. “Okay… okay. First, we’re gonna backtrack the possible routes to the pizza place, and then we’re going to check any place he could have ended up. Donnie?” The leader of the group glanced at the purple turtle, gaze expectant.

“On it, I’ll hack any nearby cameras and run a scanner through social media looking for buzzwords,” the technological prodigy replied, typing quickly. “I’ll compile a list of people that might’ve gone after him as well.”

“People that went after him?” Mikey asked, now even more nervous, his voice rising a pitch or two until it cracked completely. “You think the foot clan or Big Mama is behind this? What if they’ve hurt him?” Mikey reached out and clung to Donnie’s elbow, staring over at Donnie’s screen as stats whizzed by. The other turtle tolerated it, but didn’t stop typing to pat his shell or head. That was a sign things really were serious. “What if he’s all alone and scared or… or I don’t know! I can’t even begin to picture him being scared!”

“Again, Michael, I’m sure it’s really nothing, we’re just being thorough—“ Donnie finally started to reassure him, but his eyes never moved from the screen until a loud clatter rang out. Donnie froze, Mikey almost stumbling as he was also pulled to a sudden stop. They looked down.

Leo’s sword was lying, innocently forgotten, all alone on the sewer floor.

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the Odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

“I’m sure there’s a reason… or… or an explanation,” Donnie grasped at, but after he glanced at Raph, who shot him a panicked look, Donnie bowed his head, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought.  

It was Raph who spoke next, his voice low and urgent. “If something did go down– someone must’ve been inside of the sewers– I’m not sure Leo even made it outside for the pizzas in the first place.” The eldest scratched his head, his expression slowly darkening.

“So they came here purposefully looking for us and somehow we didn't even notice them brothernap Leo from right here?” Mikey looked around at the ground, eyes flicking up and down the sewer walls like the name of the culprit would be left behind with a clean, neat note. He needed someone to tell him flat out that it was going to be okay, he realized weakly, hugging the sword close. Someone to crack a bad joke about the situation, or know what to say. He needed… he needed his brother.

“I’ll call April,” Raph said, phone already out. He already had her number pulled up as well, finger hovering over the green button to call. “We’ll need eyes in every possible place, including checking to see if this was on Leo’s way to or from the pizza place.”

“I now have generated the list of most likely suspects,” Donnie added, pulling up a screen that had a numbered list of the names of their many yokai nemeses. At the top of the list were the various yokai that constantly fought with them on the regular, and the list continued down until it ended with a Warren Stone, although Donnie must have added him just to be safe; in reality, Mikey barely remembered the guy. “It looks like the first name my algorithm came up with is those mutant crabmen we came across recently- apparently they sometimes linger in this area.”

Raph nodded, pulling his phone away from his tympanum and giving them a thumbs up. “April’s in,” he confirmed. The way he said it was heavy; the air shifted, and the panic is forced down until Mikey only has to concentrate on being efficient and focused. “Now, Mad Dogs; let’s move.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The floor framed between Leo’s hands was swimming; sweat dripped down and splattered onto the negative space that the floor was made up of, and he was dimly aware that his arms shook under the pressure of holding himself up. Get up, he told himself. Get up, you have to do something. Anything. Just get up, Leonardo.

“Get up,” Draxum echoed his sentiment, voice expectant.

The repeat was like a slap to the face; Leo could only lift his chin to stare at him, a bitter laugh being swallowed before it escaped his lips. Sure, he knew he needed to do that, but it seemed a bit ridiculous for the guy with the metaphorical big red button to ask him to as well. He had a concussion and had just been fried; what did Draxum expect him to do-

The collar let out a shrill buzzer sound, and Leo only had a split second to think what? before the collar lit up for a third time. His arms gave out and he hit the ground hard, and even though he knew what would happen if he screamed, he couldn’t help but do so anyways. The result was exactly as expected. His mouth felt dry.

“Don’t you think the shock’s intensity is too high, Boss?” one of the gargoyles asked from above him. Leo couldn’t see which one; stars danced in front of his hazy vision. “He looks kinda dead after just four zaps.”

“Yeah. And it’s probably going to take a lot of these shocks for it to sink in,” the other agreed. “He keeps making it worse.”

Draxum scoffed, and Leo flinched slightly at the sound, hands weakly rising to shield his head from any more attacks. “Well. I just set it to what he should be strong enough to take. It’s his own fault for being weak. He’s lucky; I don’t have the advanced setting on yet.”

Leo felt Draxum’s nails dig into his bicep as the yokai reached down and hauled him up to his feet, Leo swaying as he tried to lean away from the yokai. “Stay still,” Draxum ordered, and Leo bit down hard enough on his inner cheek he tasted copper, barely accomplishing the feat.

Draxum circled him, hands clasped behind his back. Leo’s head felt foggy, and he didn’t even bother watching Draxum; his head kept drooping forwards, like when he was watching Donnie’s favorite Jupiter Jim movie without Raph around to liven things up. Everything hurt so badly. His hands wrapped around himself and Leo shrunk a bit under Draxum’s assessment.

“You’re slower to catch on than I would have thought,” Draxum said after a moment. “But let me spell it out now, just for the sake of ‘fairness,’” he added with his fingers punctuating the last word with air quotes. “The collar has three things that you will be shocked for. Any vocalizations, or any failure to follow my exact orders as well as… well. I could always just order it to go off.” Leo flinched, his fists tightening. Was Draxum enjoying this? April had taught them the meaning of the word sadistic at one point, after their first prank day on her where no one had told her it was coming. And that was the only word Leo could think of at the moment when he glanced up and into Draxum’s eyes.

This was sadistic.

“It was quite the impressive invention, really,” he continued. “Somehow a simple shock collar had a complicated A.I. that understood the situation at hand enough to correct situational humor. Not to mention it didn’t even need to feel the vocal chords vibrating; it could be programmed to listen for a certain individual’s voice and go off regardless of if it was being worn or not. A bit overkill, if you ask me, but who am I to judge?” A smug smile crossed his lips. “Your brother must have felt quite strongly about this to have put so much work into fixing your flaws.”

He didn’t know anything, Leo told himself. Donnie was just like that, he had made his dorky and kind of insensitive gifts for everyone, he hadn’t been trying to single Leo out or anything. Of course not. Even if Mikey and Raph’s inventions hadn’t caused them any harm at all when they used them, just tried to prematurely stop them from doing it. Even if Leo and Donnie were the main two that squabbled, he never would have… Leo shook his head, one hand slowly rising to press against his forehead.

He couldn’t think like this, he needed to bounce his ideas off of someone for it to be useful. Had Dad ever taught him what to do in a situation like this? A quick scan through memories of Splinter handing him his first pair of swords, of noodle fights and throwing stars, and the only thing Leo could come up with was the advice “stay with your brothers. You will protect all of them, and they in turn will all protect you. And if you get separated, stay in one spot until we can find you.”

Yeah, great, but that advice had been from when Leo was seven. When Splinter had first let them wander a bit farther into the sewers to explore with just the four of them. This wasn’t getting lost in the sewers, this was- this was something more. He was starting to have to face the knowledge that this was something serious, even.

“Pay attention when I am speaking!” Draxum suddenly snapped, and Leo went rigid when the collar let out a low, almost inaudible chirp, his eyes darting down to where he could see the blue rim of the machine before back up to Draxum. The collar didn’t otherwise react, though, but Leo kept still, wondering when the proverbial shoe would drop. “How will I teach you anything if you keep zoning out?”

“It miiiiiight be the concussion,” Muninn offered, one hand on his chin. “We’ve seen a few guys get hit before, Boss, and they also had that spacey look to them.”

Draxum threw up his hands. “Well, he should learn to deal with that. Injuries are something to be powered through.” The yokai took a deep breath, and the two gargoyles dipped as his shoulders slowly became less tense. “But. Very well. Before I forget, a few rules,” he said, voice suddenly back to the flavor of ‘calm with an undertone of smugness.’ AKA the most punchable tone of voice Leo had ever heard. “No trying to escape from me.” The collar let out a soft beep and Leo winced. “No trying to take the collar off.” Another wince. “And, other than attacking, absolutely no contact with any other turtles.” What? That wasn’t- he couldn’t just do that. Leo opened his mouth, keen to argue, but Draxum just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting.

On second thought, Leo had nothing to say. His hands curled into tight fists.

“Excellent. And now that I have…” Draxum trailed off, pausing. He fixed Leonardo with a puzzled gaze. He leaned closer to Muninn, holding up one hand to loudly whisper to the gargoyle. “What was this one called, again?”

Muninn blinked, turning and glancing at Huginn, who shrugged back at him. “Uh… ha, wow, Boss, wait, you don’t know?” The gargoyle asked, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t you hand pick him, though?”

Draxum’s eyes widened, slightly flustered. “No! Well, yes. But…” All three villains turned and stared at Leo, who crossed his arms as he stared back at them, lifting his chin slightly in a challenge. This guy had been after them long enough to at least know their nicknames, he thought, somehow still finding it within him to be annoyed.

“Wasn’t it… Larry or… Lawrence?” Huginn weakly offered up, but Draxum rested his chin in one hand, thinking.

“No, it wasn’t that. What was it again…” Draxum trailed off, frowning.

Muninn suddenly perked up. “Hey, wait, why don't we ask him? Hey, turtle! What’s your name?” he yelled, and Leo felt one of his eyes twitch. He glanced down at his shock collar, and both gargoyles made little ‘oooooh’ sounds of understanding.

“That’s right, it was Green!” Draxum suddenly said, hitting his fist into the palm of his other hand. He smiled, brushing some of his hair over his shoulder. “I remember now, how silly of me to have forgotten.”

“What? But- but he’s the one wearing blue.” Huginn darted around Leo, pulling at the bandana tails behind his head. It was a light touch, but even just that made Leo sway, his arms having to slightly go forwards as he forced himself to stay standing. He didn’t know if he would be shocked again if he fell, but from the way black dots swam in Leo’s vision, he couldn’t afford to risk it. “I don’t know, Boss, I think his name would be Blue if he’s named after a color.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure of it,” Draxum declared as Leo weakly shooed the gargoyle away from him with one hand. “It was definitely Green. Besides, that’s but a small detail. I could call him whatever I wanted, really. More importantly, we need to decide how to go about making him my ideal warrior before any of the others show up.”

Leo flinched, one hand absently reaching up to rub at the collar. The skin underneath it already felt raw and uncomfortable; he wondered if it was going to leave scars.

He then wondered if he’d ever be able to even see if it had.

“Ooh, why don’t we inject him with some more ooze?” Muninn suggested, clasping both hands together excitedly, wings fluttering as he hopped slightly into the air. “That seems to make everything better! Think of the possibilities: spikes, a tail, and our personal favorite—”

“Fire-breathing!” The two gargoyles sung at the exact same moment.

“A tempting idea, but no,” Draxum said, shaking his head. “Physically speaking, his body is as good as I had hoped for, it’s the rest of it that’s the issue. Respect and obedience should come naturally with the aid of that collar, but as for training techniques…” Draxum circled Leo yet again; was he trying to make him dizzy enough to fall over? “With the level of sheer incompetence that I’ve witnessed, it would take far too long for me to train him myself from scratch. And I don't trust you two to be in charge of it, either…”

“Ouch, Boss,” Muninn said, one hand over his heart. “That really hurts.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Huginn flapped harder, shooting over to Draxum. “We actually know exactly how to do this! I mean, not to flex or anything, but Muninn and I did do our fair share of training in school.”

“Uh,” Muninn stammered, looking lost, but a quick elbow from Huginn and he blinked and also smiled at Draxum. “Yeah, absolutely. So…” he trailed off, shooting his friend a nervous glance.

“What faster way to train someone than to just give them a bunch of experience! You know, the good ole ‘learn as you do’ method!”  Huginn finished with a flourish.

“Hmm, you do have a point,” Draxum considered. He stopped walking. “Surprisingly.”

“Why thank you,” Huginn trilled, bowing.

Draxum’s gaze went back onto Leo, who couldn’t help but shrink away, hands nervously reaching up to hold onto the top of his plastron. “And that gives me the perfect idea…”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Draxum!” Raph bellowed, kicking open the door, Mikey and Donnie flanking him on either side. The turtle huffed, glancing around the lab as he searched for his target.

The third name on Donnie’s list had to be it, right? Surely. It had taken them far too long to hunt down the Sando Brothers and force them to tell them anything, and the next yokai they had tried had had similar results. April hadn’t found anything, either, but the pizzas had been paid for so… so…

Ugh! Raph couldn’t put these pieces together right now. He just needed to find his younger brother and save him from whatever mess he had found himself in this time.

There was the sound of slow clapping, and the sheep yokai appeared from around the column of ooze, one gargoyle perched on his right shoulder. “Well, well,” he greeted them, a smile on his face. “It’s quite rare for you turtles to come and seek me out. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the cr—“ Donnie started to say, but Mikey beat him to it, bounding in front of his brothers. Raph almost reached out to pull him back, but he stopped himself; he understood Mikey’s point of view enough that he had also barged in, weapons ready to go.

“Where’s our brother, you creep?” Mikey demanded, his weapon already spinning in his hands.

“Ah,” the yokai replied, blinking at them. The gargoyle snickered softly, and Draxum glanced at it, some message passing between the two of them. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The way he said it- it was casual. Too casual. That was suspicious, right? Raph couldn’t possibly be the only one to think so. “You’re lying,” he snarled. “What did you do with Leo?”

The gargoyle perked up, about to say something, but Draxum covered it with one of his hands. “Really,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Whatever you silly children are accusing me of, I don’t have any involvement. Search my lab, if you must, but I’m in the middle of some very important experiments. I’d really rather not fight today; but I will, if you insist. That is,” and the yokai sneered at them, eyes flashing. “If you have that kind of time to waste. Whatever you’re up to, it sounds very... urgent.”

(Chapter Four –>) 

[verai-marcel]

Do What I Dare (RDR2 Fanfic, Biker AU, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You've been dating Arthur for about four months now, and if you hadn't seen that photo of his biker gang, you wouldn't have guessed that he was once an outlaw. He's so gentle, polite, and kind to you that you didn't believe he had a wild side. A picnic out in the hills proves you wrong. 

Author’s Notes: Many thanks to @reddeaddufus for this amazing idea! So timeline-wise, this is happening during that six months when Journalist!Reader is still living in her apartment but she and Charles are already together. Cosplay!Reader & Javier got together a couple of weeks before this. And of course, the title is an obscure lyric; try and guess the song!

Tags: outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, some name calling, medium honor Arthur 

Find the AO3 link here, sweetheart.

--------------------

Arthur had stopped by as he did every morning before opening, and after hearing that you were opening alone, immediately began helping you set up chairs and tables. He really was a great guy.

Usually Charles was here earlier than you, but this morning his lady friend was feeling ill, so he had texted you to ask if you could open up without him. You hoped everything was okay. At this point, you had met both Charles’ and Javier’s girlfriends and they were both nice people, though their personalities couldn’t be farther apart. One was bold and unafraid while the other was shy and had a bit of social anxiety. They were both fun to hang out with whenever the boys got together to talk about marketing.

While Arthur was handing you the mugs and glasses from the dishwasher so you could put them away, he spoke.

“You free on Sunday?”

“Yup! What’re you planning?” you asked.

“Well, the weather’s s’pposed to be nice, so I thought maybe we’d go on a bike ride up the ridgeway.”

“That sounds awesome! Should we make it a picnic?”

“Sure.” He paused before looking at you a bit shyly. “Can ya make some of those cucumber sandwiches?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” you said happily.

“Thank you.”

You smiled. Arthur had never stopped being polite to you, even after dating him for the past four months. Together, the two of you finished getting everything ready just in time. 

“Lookin’ forward to Sunday,” Arthur said as he grabbed his jacket. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as you wrapped your arms around him for a quick hug before he left for work. Watching him go, you smiled as you opened the cafe to the public. 

***

The Ridgeway was a scenic road that went north and south through the state, with the most beautiful part being, in your humble opinion,  the section nearby that weaved past the lake and through some of the forest east of town. There were several viewpoints along the path for tourists to stop and gawk at the view, but the locals knew that the best part was going off the Ridgeway onto random roads to find secluded dead ends that then led to even better views, untainted by signs and trash.

You were clinging onto Arthur as he wove his way on his Indian Scout motorcycle. Remembering the first time he had shown you his bike, you smiled. At that time, you had been dating for a month and had never seen him drive anything; he had always met you somewhere or you came to his place. When he had asked if you wanted to go on a bike ride, you assumed he had meant a bicycle. Boy, were you wrong. When he had rolled up to your apartment on his matte black motorcycle and handed you a helmet, you had been shocked to your core. And also turned on as all hell; he had been wearing a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, motorcycle boots, and fingerless gloves.

It was the same outfit he was wearing now as the two of you rode up the road, the sound of the motor muffled by the helmet over your head. After a few more twists and turns along the Ridgeway, he finally turned onto an unmarked road that led to a small picnic area. It was originally made by a historical preservation society decades ago, but fell into disuse after a rock slide made the road unusable by car.

A motorcycle, however, could easily wind around the rocks and get past.

Through the trees and the debris the two of you went, until you reached the small clearing at the top of the hill. A small picnic bench with one forgotten trash can and two parking spots were here, along with a gorgeous view of the hills and valleys. You popped your helmet off and practically leapt off the bike, running to the picnic table and clambering on top of it like a kid. Surveying the scenery, you eventually pulled out your phone and took a panoramic photo.

“This is so cool, I didn’t even know about this place!” you squealed with delight.

Arthur chuckled. “Glad you like it, darlin’.”

Hopping down from the table, you took the picnic case from Arthur’s hands and started to help him set up. Tossing the picnic blanket over the table, the two of you laid out your feast: cucumber sandwiches, two beers, summer sausage, a bit of bison jerky, and some grapes.

The two of you ate and chatted, the comfortable air between you two allowing for the occasional pause, the silence filled with contentment. Soon your line of questioning started to veer towards his past, something that he rarely mentioned.

“So, is this the same bike you had in that photo on your wall?”

“Yup.”

After a few moments without him adding anything else, you tried to get some more out of him. “Wow. Would you ever trade it in?”

“Never.”

You tilted your head at him; he was only giving you one word answers and not elaborating. “Should I not ask about your past?”

Arthur sighed. “There were some good times, but in the end, things fell apart and we chose to get out. I still feel… guilty, I guess. We weren’t good people.”

You reached for his hand and held it with both of yours. “But you’re a good man on the inside,” you said quietly. “And you’re doing good now.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “I must be, if you’re stickin’ around.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for bad boys.”

Arthur’s eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, maybe I secretly want a guy who’ll fuck me out in the open, get all raw and wild.” You waggled your eyebrows.

Laughing, Arthur stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” you said with a wink. You stood up as well and helped him clean up. Once everything was back in the picnic case, you took it from him and set it aside. Climbing across the table, you knelt before him and took his head between your hands. “Kiss me.”

Arthur smiled and pulled you off the table and into his lap, your legs straddling his as he tangled his fingers in your hair and pushed your head closer to him. He nibbled your lips lightly at first, delicately playing with you as his other hand reached under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. His kisses grew deeper as his touch became more insistent; the grip in your hair tightened as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you against his hard chest. 

He pulled away and gave you a naughty look before he took hold of the hem of your shirt. "Can I?" 

You obediently lifted your arms and let him pull the shirt over your head. He laid it down behind you before gently pushing you down on the table. Bending over to lay kisses along your collarbone, he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening. Attracted to the sight, Arthur enveloped one in his mouth while he pinched and pulled gently on the other, making you moan and writhe underneath him. 

"Arthur," you sighed as he shifted, making sure both your nipples had equal attention from his talented tongue. Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him closer to feel his cock straining in his jeans. 

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. "I got an idea, sweetheart."

Carrying you to his bike, he set you on your feet and turned you around. You understood what he wanted and felt a flush of heat as he started to undo the fly of your pants. He slowly slid them down your hips, just past the curve of your backside. 

"Bend over, darlin'," he crooned. You gladly did so, your tits hanging out over the side of his motorcycle seat. Sticking your ass out for him, you turned your head towards him and gave him a smirk.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” you taunted.

His dark smile made shivers go down your spine as anticipation and lust swirled into your body. Stepping forward, he grabbed your butt with both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh before slapping your ass.

“I’d teach you how to be a good girl,” he rumbled. He slapped the other cheek. “Make sure you learn how to listen.”

“Oh, yes, teach me Arthur,” you purred, wiggling your body. With one hand he pressed you down on the motorbike seat to keep you still as he undid his button fly. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw him standing behind you, pulling out his hard cock and stroking himself as he stepped closer. You could feel him nudging your slit, sliding it back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. 

“Goddamn sweetheart,” he murmured. “All this honey fer me?”

You moaned as he pressed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly. Grabbing your hips, he kept on entering you until he filled you to the hilt, letting out a soft, low moan of satisfaction. He leaned over and kissed the shell of your ear.

“Just think, someone might come out here and find you, bent over my bike, getting filled with my cock.”

Your pussy tightened around him as you felt a rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yeah, gettin’ excited by that, ain’tcha?”

“Fuck me Arthur,” you half-growled, trying to move your hips towards him.

He chuckled, his hold on you as strong as steel. “I’m in control here, darlin’.” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, his bike shifting ever so slightly from his movement. He reached for your hair, pulling your head back so your back arched beautifully for his pleasure. Moving slowly at first, he built up a steady rhythm, fucking you with just enough control to prevent toppling his bike with the strength of his thrusts.

“Yer a dirty girl, gettin’ so hot from being fucked in the open,” he crooned. 

You were surprised at how aroused you were from this. The risk of being caught like this shot adrenaline through your body, giving you an incredible high. The thought of someone catching you in such a compromising position while you were getting railed like a whore over the seat of a motorcycle by a real biker outlaw was sexy, like a porn fantasy come to life. Your tits were bouncing and your juices were dripping down your thighs as your cries of pleasure echoed in the forest. His hands wandered, grabbing your neck, gripping your hips and fondling your breasts. And through it all, his cock kept hammering into you, a steady reminder that you were completely at his mercy and you loved it.

Suddenly Arthur brought his hand down against your ass again, making you yelp.

“Fuck, I love it when you squeeze my cock whenever I spank ya.”

You turned towards him. “Now you’re just doing that for fun.”

“Have to keep you in line somehow.”

You grinned and pushed your ass back at him, causing him to stop moving.

“Arthur!” you whined.

“Fuck yerself on me if you want it so bad,” he said with a mocking grin.

You growled but did as he said, undulating your hips, grinding down on his shaft and slowing your pace, letting him feel every inch of your tight channel as you slid forward and back on him. You felt a thrill of victory when he finally grabbed your hips and thrust inside of you, taking control of the speed again.

“Yer drivin’ me crazy,” he grunted as he leaned forward, crushing you against the bike seat. He reached around, rubbing your clit with an expert touch. He had gotten intimately familiar with your body in the past few months and knew exactly how to push you to your peak. Each stroke made your heart race, made your breath come out in labored gasps as he made you feel a blinding pleasure with each stroke of his fingers.

“Come fer me, darlin’,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m goin’ to fill you when you do.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as you felt your climax hit you like a gust of wind, taking you higher and higher as you cried out, only to have Arthur wrap a hand around your mouth to stifle your screams. You kept moaning, your sounds muffled as he continued to fuck you, faster and faster, until your body was shaking from being kept on the brink for so long.

Arthur let out a low moan as he came inside of you, filling you as he promised. He let his weight crush you against the leather seat as he caught his breath, for he knew you enjoyed the heaviness of his body every once in a while. 

After a few moments, he stood up, his cum spilling out as he pulled himself out of you. “Darlin’, you alright?”

“I’m good. Better than good. That was so hot.”

He laughed. “Better keep that inside of ya,” he said, pulling a bandana from his jacket and wiping your mixed juices from your inner thigh. “Don’t wanna get my bike dirty,” he said with a wink.

You slapped his arm as you laughed and pulled your clothes back on. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He could only laugh with you as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you gently. “It’s all I could think of. Forgive me if I ain’t able to think properly right now.”

“I forgive you," you said, tapping his nose playfully.  "Now should we go back? We probably should take a shower.”

“And then round two?” he asked with a hopeful look.

You giggled. “If you’re feeling… up to it.”

“With you? Always.”

The two of you rode back down the Ridgeway, content and happy. You snuggled into his warm back, your arms wrapped around his waist, and blissfully enjoyed the view.

When the two of you returned to your apartment, while he was helping you put away the picnic gear, he chuckled softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious.

“Was jus’ thinkin’ we should go ridin’ more often, since it gets you all hot and bothered like this.”

You just laughed as you stripped off your clothes to give him round two.

--------------------

End Notes: The fic title is a lyric from I Feel Like A Woman by Shania Twain! The scenery was very much inspired by my visit to Asheville, North Carolina a long time ago. The Blue Mountain Ridgeway was absolutely gorgeous, definitely worth a visit. Hope you enjoyed this hot little story! With this part, this series is over. Thank you for your support!

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down (chapter xx)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,800

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: You meet Harry’s friends

warnings: Language

a/n: I really debated getting rid of this chapter for like 3 days... Still not 100% sure I like it but decided to keep it in the end anyways. xx

>>><<<

It was your last full night in California and you weren't sure how Harry managed to sweet talk you into going to some party with him but as you stood smoothing out your skin tight black dress you wondered if it was too late to bail on him. Unfortunately, you were staying in the same room together so you couldn't play sick and you couldn't use the fact Thea was sick or didn't want you to go because she was already with Mitch and Sarah.

You sighed running your hands through your hair. Fiddling with your outfit again. Debating if you looked too dressed up or too dressed down. He didn't really tell you what this party thing was for and didn't tell you how to dress besides nice which you could have slapped him for. Nice could literally mean anything from dress pants to a pair of denim jeans depending on the situation.

"Y'look great." He said from behind you. You didn't even notice him walking into the room you were so lost in your own thoughts.

"I don't know. I think I'm going to change." You sighed, heading back towards the closet. His arms wrapping around you, head resting on your shoulder.

"Don't, y'look beautiful." He said, turning his head slightly, placing a kiss on your neck.

"Mhm." You hummed out not believing him but settling on not changing since it would make you more late than you already were.

"Ya do! I'd fuck ya." That irritatingly cheeky smile on his when you turned around to glare at him. His arms still wrapped around you, smiling brightly down to you, making you roll your eyes and trying to walk away from him.

His hand in yours as you walked out the hotel building. Your nerves were already frazzled. Not knowing exactly what you were getting into. You stayed quiet beside him as you walked out, your mind running through all your anxieties.

"'S jus' a few people. Stop worryin' so much. I want everyone to meet ya." He opened the car door for you, letting you climb in first. You had to admit, him having a driver was actually kind of nice. You almost wished he had one in New York that you could use at home.

"Thea's birthday's in a few weeks. We're going to have a party at home for her friends then one at my parents house for family. Are you coming to them?" You asked, your mind trying to go to safe places like talking about Thea to try and stop all the anxiety currently coursing through it.

"Course I am." He took your hand in his. Holding it tightly in his lap. His thumb rubbing gently on the back of your hand making you smile slightly. You were still so nervous your leg starting to bounce uncontrollably the longer you spent in the car.

When you guys finally pulled up to the house you assumed everyone was at, you swear you couldn't breath. The house not only was the most gorgeous thing you'd ever seen in your whole life but it was huge. Not just normal mansion big, this thing looked like it cost more than you could even fathom. You definitely weren't in the same safe bubble that you were used to in New York.

The California Harry was just like New York Harry. Sweet, caring, loving. But it still had only been you two and Thea together all week long. You didn't know if his whole personality would change the second he got around other people. Or if you'd be good enough for him out here.

He basically had to pull you out of the car. You really just wanted to go home. This seemed like such a bad idea. Every doubt you'd ever had about yourself coming to the surface. Your self-esteem tanking by the second.

You didn't fit in here and you weren't even in the door yet.

"Come on, if y'still don't want to be 'ere in 10 minutes we'll leave. I promise." That big pout on his lips as he held your hands. You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no to him especially when he looked at you like that.

You nodded your agreement. He instantly smiled, pulling you along into the house. You stayed so close to his side hugging onto his arm. Feeling like a damn fish out of water. So ungodly uncomfortable.

He laughed wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to him as he walked towards where everyone was. A smile on his face as you bit your lip nervously.

"They don't bite, love." He said down to you, you just hummed your understanding. Words not being able to be formed in your brain.

The second you two walked up to the group of people surrounding the drink area. They all stopped to look at you two. People you didn't even know saying hello to you like you were best friends. Making you feel terrible for not knowing half the people here and only knowing the other half because they were famous.

You had no idea how Mitch managed to do this the first time he came out to California and you hated the fact he and Sarah weren't here to save you from awkward conversations.

"Harry told us so much about you!"

"It's nice to see you're actually real. We thought he was making you up for a bit."

"Where's your daughter? We were hoping to meet her too."

All the welcomings shot at you at once making you turn wide eyed to Harry. He told people about you?

"Yeh, yeh, save yer shit. She's real. I told ya." He rolled his eyes pulling you into the crowd of people. You instantly reached for the glass of whatever the hell alcohol was sitting on the table. Starting to drink it down quickly as you could. Even though everyone was being nice to you, you still felt out of place.

"We really did think he was making you up for a bit." The person beside you said slowly to you, making you turn around to see who it was.

Your eyes widening as Niall Horan decided to talk to you like it was the most casual thing in the whole world. You cleared your throat desperately looking over at Harry to save you from your lack of social skills when it came to meeting people.

When it came to your job you could do it no problem. In your social life? Not so much.

"Uhm, well, yeah, I'm real." You smiled slightly, taking another long drink from your glass. Finishing off the bubbly liquid and holding your now empty glass tightly to you.

"Got any pictures of the little one?" He asked, grabbing you another drink from the table and handing it to you.

"What's her name again?" He asked, switching you cups as you pulled out your phone. Showing him your lock screen of her and Harry smiling.

"Thea. Right?" Someone else piped up from across you. How much did Harry talk about you guys for people to know your names?

"Yeh, it's Thea. She's cute ain't she?" Harry handed his phone around that had a picture of you and her posing in front of her school. You crouched down beside her as she hugged you tightly, smiling up to the camera.

"Man you're in for a lot of shit when she gets older. She's gonna have boys chasing her like crazy." James fucking Corden said as he handed back Harry's phone.

"She's already tryin' to date someone 'cause he shared her crayons with her." He rolled his eyes, locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket. You laughed beside him shaking your head. He really needed to get over that.

"They say you get it back twice as bad with kids. Better hope she doesn't meet someone like you were when you were 19." Niall laughed beside you, your lips rolling in. Did he even plan on staying long enough for that?

"Shut up. I don't wanna think 'bout it." He sighed, arm reaching back around your waist pulling you in and kissing the top of your head.

The conversation between everyone started to flow easier once you had a few drinks in you. Your anxiety easing up once you started to realize maybe you did fit into this part of his life too.

After two hours of sitting around trying to be social you more than ready to get the hell back to the hotel. The heels you decided to wear where about to murder your feet and the last glass of alcohol you had definitely was getting to you.

"Ready?" Harry asked, when he noticed you stopped talking to everyone as much as you were. You nodded, so ready to get him home and take him out of his clothes.

"Bye everyone." You said as politely as possible. Waving to everyone as they all said goodbye to you and telling you to come back the next time you guys came in.

You two made your way toward the door, your arm around his waist, hugging onto him. You were glad he made you come to this, showing you he was just as serious about you in California as he was in New York.

You two were about to walk out the door when it opened in front of you. You stopped in your place, stumbling a bit because of your damn shoes.

Harry smiling at the couple walking in, his arm resting around your shoulder as you fixed your dress from your unfortunate stumbling.

"Hey Luke." Harry said to the guy walking in. Your head snapping up so fast it made Harry bite his lip to contain his laughter. "This my girlfriend, Y/N."

"Oh, hi." Luke Hemmings said to you and you had to try your best to not start fangirling. Your eyes so wide Harry started to laugh but quickly stopped once your elbow hit him in the ribs.

"Ow. Alright. We're leaving." He started walking you out of the house, walking around Luke and whoever was with him. Once the door shut behind you two you turned around and slapped the laughing Harry on his shoulder.

"Wat was that fo'? I did ya a favor introducing y'to one of your top 5!" His deep laugh coming from him as you booked it to the car. Cursing yourself for your choice in shoes.

"Glad I wasn't in yer 5 top that was tragic." He tried his best to contain his laughter, lips rolling into his mouth when you shot him a look.

"Fine. I'll stop teasin'" He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Sometimes you really hated that you loved him.

[udon-udon]

As a follower of yours and an enjoyer of your art, I read what you wrote here and it reminded me of my partner’s situation. When we were in high school, she became very isolated except for her classmates and she could not do what she was passionate about, which was writing with her friends, otherwise she would fall behind in her schooling. Life’s responsibilities, not to mention anxiety and depression, really weighed heavily upon her, and even though we’ve been working on this for many years, it still affects her, just not as badly as before. It takes an exorbitant amount of time and energy to maintain a group. She still only has one friend, who we speak with once every two weeks due to their own anxiety and depression. Otherwise, she lacks a friend group who shares her hobbies and passions besides me. On social media, she still keeps up with what her old classmates do, but none of them live nearby and she hasn’t met up with any of them since high school. Sometimes, they react to something she posts, still calling her friend, and she loves that. However, it also sparks a wave of anxiety as she wonders how to respond. I understand how difficult it is to reach out when time and time again your efforts eventually amount to nothing, leaving you with a lot of wasted energy and nervously bitter feelings. There is no secret trick to making a friend group that sticks together beyond having a consistent schedule together. Showing up is a major part of being included, which is one of the scariest parts due to change. I didn’t mean to get so long winded here, but what I really wanted to say is that you aren’t alone. It’s easy when you get caught in a spiral of negative thoughts to lose sight of anything remotely positive in your life or to discount it. Don’t do that disservice to yourself. You are great because you’re you. Your art is just the cherry on top of the whole cake. I do hope you find a therapist soon, and I hope they’re the right therapist for you. Some therapists suck.

Oh wow thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words I--- SOBS. I think reading this makes me feel better, and definitely slaps me out of the spiralling a bit (watch it come back), but even if it does come back i'll think back to this ; u ;

Thank you again for the support and taking the time to write this out for me :')