#asks and requests are appreciated and needed

[moonstruckme]

omgomg can i request wolfstar or any of the marauders (literally so excited j leave it up to u) with a reader who faints when she sees blood? I have severe blood phobia and i hate feeling lightheaded but it's kinda funny if u think about it... have a great day ❤️

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood, fainting, Sirius on a power trip (everyone's worst nightmare I think)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 968 words

You watch Remus look down on the onion with concentrated, dry eyes. “I don’t know how you can do that,” you say, mystified.

“He’s a freak of nature,” Sirius says. 

“Even when I cut along the lines, like you’re supposed to…” You brush a knuckle underneath your lashes, catching the residual wetness from when you’d attempted what Remus is doing so easily. “Maybe you are a freak of nature.” 

Remus is more than a little smug. “Maybe my eyes are just better than yours.” 

“No, that can’t be it…” 

“Cut your tomatoes, love,” he teases. “Those won’t hurt you.” 

You scoff, grabbing the serrated knife from the knife block. In the second your back is turned, you hear Remus’ knife hit the cutting board funny. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Bollocks.” 

“Ha!” Sirius cries triumphantly, though he moves closer to ensure Remus is okay. “Who’s the pro onion chopper now? What’d you do to yourself, let me see.” 

Remus rolls his eyes but gives his hand over to Sirius’ care. Your boyfriend coos, pulling him closer to the sink and turning on the tap. 

You hear more than see yourself stumble, your feet clumsy on the tile floor. Remus’ gaze snaps to you. You feel suddenly very warm. 

Remus says something, you think, but it’s lost to the rushing in your ears. Blood drips from his hand into the sink. You watch it turn pink as it swirls into the drain.

You stumble again. 

---

“What did you think shouting at her was going to do?” 

“I don’t know!” There’s a hand on your cheek, tapping insistently. “This is your fault anyway, get a plaster on that. Or just wrap it up for now, we’ll deal with it after.”  

“Your concern is touching.” 

A sigh. “I’ll kiss it better in a minute, darling, but I’m somewhat occupied right now.” More tapping. “Hey, open your eyes, baby. Come on, I can see you twitching.” 

“Did she hit her head?” 

“I don’t think so. Just give her a second, yeah?” 

With effort, you lift your weighted eyelids. Sirius stops tapping. His thumb strokes down your cheek instead. 

“Hey.” He smiles, concern lingering at the corners. “In the future, I think we’d all appreciate a bit of warning before you drop like a bag of rocks. Okay?” 

Your voice comes out quiet and wispy. “I’ll try.” 

Sirius’ grin widens. “Attagirl.” 

“I think you’re supposed to lift her legs,” Remus frets from somewhere you can’t see him. You try, but Sirius puts his hand under your chin, tilting your head back up. 

“You can lift them once you’re cleaned up,” he says lightly. “Eyes on me, sweetness. Rem needs to stop bleeding before you two can resume gazing lovingly at each other, I’m afraid.” 

“Are you okay?” you ask the ceiling. 

“Fine, love. It’s just a cut.” 

Your voice wavers. “It looked like it was bleeding a lot.” 

“It was, but it’s shallow,” Sirius reassures you. He gives you an easy smile, thumb stroking a short line from the corner of your mouth to your chin. “You know our Moony, he loves to make a spectacle of himself.” 

You manage a little smile. “Sounds like him.” 

Remus makes a sound like a laugh that’s trying to be a sigh. Your ankles lift up off the floor, and Sirius finally allows you to look down, where you find your boyfriend with a paper towel wrapped around his hand. 

“Why is it that even when I’m hurt, you’re both still ganging up on me?” he asks. “Does your head feel alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. You feel yourself frown as you look at his hand. Hoping you won’t see more blood, fearing you will, worry keeping your gaze trapped either way. “Are you hurt?” 

Remus visibly softens. “No. I’m fine, sweetheart. How do you feel?” 

“I’m okay, really. I think it just surprised me.” 

“Do you realize how full my hands are with the two of you?” Sirius asks, fondness obvious in his agitated tone. “You fainting, you bleeding all over the place—I mean, Christ, how’s a man to make supper?” 

You let your eyes shut for a moment. Truthfully, you still feel a bit odd. You know it’ll pass soon. “I’ll cut the onions next time,” you say. 

“That might be best,” he says. “I hate to do it to you, sweetness, but lesser of two evils and all that.” 

“I am still perfectly capable—” Remus tries to say, but Sirius cuts him off. 

“Hush, you. Go wait in the bathroom, I’ll come take care of you in a minute.” 

Remus does not go to the bathroom. He stages his rebellion silently, rolling his eyes as he stays put. 

“Do you really feel alright?” Sirius asks you. 

You hum. “Yeah. I mean, I’m…” You nod your head from side to side. “You know.” 

His eyebrows raise amusedly. Remus chuffs out a laugh. “Course I do, babe. I know exactly what you mean. Care to elaborate for Remus, though?” 

“I’m okay.” 

Sirius waits a moment for you to say more. When you don’t, he nods, taking this in stride. “Do you think if I help, you can get over to the couch to lie there for a while? Just until I finish tending to our wounded soldier over here.” 

“It’s just a scratch,” Remus insists, exasperated, but he lowers your feet back to the ground so Sirius can help you up. “I don’t need help with it, really, it—oh, bollocks.” 

Sirius shields your eyes with his hand before you can see what the fuss is about. “Get another towel and go wait in the bathroom,” he tells Remus firmly, helping you stand. He half drags you towards the couch as you hear Remus’ cursing move down the hall. “God, always the dramatics with the two of you. Honestly.” 

[cas-couture]

cas couture.

cas couture is an upcoming community-based sim magazine focused on fashion. what sets cas couture apart is that we will not allow permanently paywalled cc to be featured in the magazine and aim to highlight the numerous, talented cc creators in the community :)

we are looking for simblrs who would like their stories/cc/creations/sims/pretty-much-anything ADVERTISED (for free, this is not a cash grab) in the APRIL 2025 ISSUE!

as cas couture is community driven, we need YOUR participation!

( more info under the cut !!! )

we want to put the spotlight back on this community and appreciate active simblrs. we want to encourage blog interaction and actually make the community ~feel like a community!

what will advertising look like?

sponsoring might look different across different spreads, it might be an ad for a movie/ tv series (i.e., this would advertise a sim story), an ad for a product/ designer (i.e., this would advertise a CC creator) and so on.

we're pretty much open to advertising anything! :) if you have any ideas for how you would like your creation advertised, let us know!

what are the requirements to sponsor?

you must be 18+ to apply

this is for fun!!!! pls remember that :) and also pls don’t be zionists or trumpies or homophobes or racist or anything else awful because :( and that’ll be another reason why we can’t have nice things :(

submit this sponsorship form (set aside 10 mins to fill this out, if your sponsorship is accepted, have some pictures/content ready that you would like us to use!)

reblog this post so i know ur for real about wanting to advertise!!

you would reblog and boost and interact with the April issue when it releases on April 11 :) (this would run on an honor system because I'm not a weirdo, but........ like if not enough people do it, it probably won't be worth the effort of making all the ads if no one's going to read the first issue/ interact with it? the point of cas couture IS blog interaction!!!!)

deadline to submit a sponsorship form is April 1. if you are making your own advertisement, it is April 10.

faq

i'm an editor for the magazine already, can I apply to sponsor?

yes, you totally can! we would just request you still fill out the form and once we confirm your sponsorship, we would just ask you to make your own advertisement, as it would probably be the quickest method :)

can I make my own advertisement as a sponsor?

yes, you totally can! once you're accepted as a sponsor, we will send you more information on the canvas size and other regulations <3

how many advertisements are you accepting?

there is no set number, it's more like... how many advertisements we can crank out in time for April 11 :) if you are willing to create your own advertisement and submit it by April 10th, the chances are 99.999% that we would accept :)

why is reblogging this post a requirement in order to apply for sponsorship?

because it'll show that you're truly willing to ruin your impeccable feed with simblr community content! if you're not willing to do it now, you probably won't want to later :( cas couture can only fuel itself on my hopes and dreams for so long until it burns out :( the aim is for blog interaction, making (age-appropriate) friends and having a good time!!!!

thank you for supporting cas couture! you're helping fund the nepo babies'-- i mean, interns'-- matcha addictions-- i mean, education!

asking da community for some support <3

as this is totally a community project, i'm going to tag some community members who really helped the last post reach the masses (I'm sorry, I'm annoying for tagging!!!) and current editors (I'm going off the top of my head, I'm sorry if I miss anyone!!!) on the team for the April issue!!!! if you don't like to be tagged, I'm sorry!!!!! <3333

@householdbinary @jokiyo @simafrassx @olivetelfie @my-kwy @southernfriedsims-blog @ratwoman161 @harvestsims @mmonetsims @kdplayssss @liyahssims @fairytailtow @crazy-hazy-sims @aliengirl @strangegrapefruit @thebramblewood @thefoxburyinstitute @missatan

psst, we're still accepting editors for the April issue!!! learn more about the roles available here!

[luvvannie]

NEPO-BABY -> sylus

syn. you make the mistake of mentioning to sylus that you want to move.

gen. fluff..

a/n. yall idk if i like this one tbh T^T honestly just posting for the sake of posting bc i don't have the time nor the energy to write these days with how many assessments i've had to study for but ITS OKAY!! the next one will be good trust

cmts + rbgs are super duper appreciated !! :D

sylus and you had been on your usual bedtime phone call when you mentioned you were thinking of looking for a new apartment. you told him about some minor issues around your current place. the water pressure in the shower was weak, and it wasn't too helpful after a long day of hunting and sore joints. the living room windows were jammed and didn't close all the way, and it made the winter unbearable. the signal in this busy part of the city wasn't good either, it took a good minute for you to call or text. and there was plenty more for you to complain about.

as you rattled off your grievances, sylus hummed on the other end, though it sounded absentminded. he was probably half-asleep. you had a tendency to talk his ear off before bed, and he had a tendency to let you.

a few minutes later, your complaints trailed off, and his voice—deep, smooth, laced with drowsiness—cut through the silence. "you sound tired, sweetie . go to sleep."

you pouted, shifting under the covers. you were on a roll. you had at least five more things to complain about, "but-!"

"goodnight. love you."

click! he hung up.

you huffed, looking at your phone screen, before shutting it off and laying back, closing your eyes and drifting off.

the next morning, you had the day off. you scrolled through your phone as you ate breakfast, only to pause mid-bite at a notification from sylus.

an... apartment complex?

your eyebrows furrowed as you opened the message.

you recognised that place almost instantly. it was probably the most prestigious housing in the fancy side of linkon. the side where security guards stood outside every shop and ladies in expensive dresses and pearl necklaces drank tea with their pinkies out in their gigantic penthouses while their husbands were at work. you'd dreamt of living there and being one of those ladies on your off days since you were a little girl.

you responded with multiple questions.

💬 y/n: -> huh?

💬 y/n: -> why are u sending me this?

💬 y/n: -> do u have the wrong number baby?

💬 sylus: -> no

💬 sylus: -> come.

come?

you were confused out of your mind, staring at the screen in bewilderment. what the hell was he up to? maybe sylus had another one of those meetings with some important person and needed you... for whatever reason. you finished the rest of your breakfast and got dressed, heading over to the apartment complex in his message.

when you arrived at the lobby, you found sylus speaking to someone at the front desk. his presence alone seemed to unnerve the poor receptionist, who fumbled with the keyboard as sylus glanced over at you.

his hand found its place on your lower back as you stopped beside him. "is it ready?"

the receptionist nodded—perhaps a little too quickly��before handing over a keycard.

sylus took the card, giving it to you as you blinked at him with confusion. "and all the adjustments i requested?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"y-yes, mr. sylus! everything has been completed."

he hummed in approval, turning around and bringing you to the elevator, the security nodding their heads at him respectfully. as he pressed the button to the top floor, the doors slowly shut, and you were finally given the opportunity to question him.

"what's going on? what are we doing here?"

he smirked.

no, not the smirk...

"hello?!"

the elevator dinged, and the doors opened again, and before you could press him any further he began walking down the hall ahead of you in long strides as you followed behind him like some little duckling, struggling to catch up. he stopped at the end, motioning for you to scan your keycard on the door. you grumble at him, but do so, and then he enters a password, and it unlocks.

you step into a huge, fully furnished apartment, looking around curiously. it looked untouched, like some display house. the furniture was really pretty too. it was all in your favourite colour, and you even noticed some paintings and posters from your favourite artists.

you turned back at him, "who lives here? it's really nice!"

he smirked, looking way too pleased with himself "you do."

your eyebrows furrowed, not quite catching on, "no i don't."

"well, you're holding the key, aren't you sweetie?"

the rest of the day was a whirlwind. or rather, his men handled the whirlwind while you stood there in shock, directing where you wanted things placed.

sylus had, in a single night, secured one of the most expensive apartments in the city—fully paid, fully furnished, and customised to your exact tastes. it was almost terrifying how well he knew you.

and those "adjustments" you overheard earlier? oh, he wasn’t playing around. adjustable water pressure and massage jets in the bath. upgraded heating throughout the entire place. a separate service line just for you.

amongst other things.

a few weeks passed in the new place, and you loved it. it was like a dream come true.

though you did notice something odd.

the workers, the security guards, even the neighbours—all of them treated you with an almost reverent level of politeness. a doorman scrambled to open the lobby doors for you before you even reached them. a boutique owner refused to let you pay for a dress, smiling nervously as she insisted it was on the house.

it was strange.

and then one night, sylus was over for dinner, and it clicked. you put your chopsticks down, "y-you..!"

sylus looked to you with a raised eyebrow, "yes?"

"that's why people have been so nice to me! you bribed them."

his lips curled into a lazy smirk, "bribed is such a strong word, kitten."

oh. god.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands, "i'm a nepo-baby!"

[byshens]

your kisses ⎯⎯ yang jungwon x fem!reader smut mdni

warnings established relationship, lots of making out, oral (f), riding, unprotected sex (pls dont!), pet names (baby, pretty girl, princess), overstimulation, breeding. if i missed any, lmk!

notes this was so cute to write T^T thank u for the request! this kinda focuses a lot on the making out, hope thats okay! ignore if you see any typos. ⎯⎯ requested! @en-ariii ( + @riqomi )

requests are open! word count 1 , 570

you loved jungwon’s lips.

the way he would kiss you drove you insane. how his lips danced with yours, how your tongue would fight for dominance with his but you always gave up in the end, jungwon was just too good.

the best though, was when he would slowly start to touch around your body while kissing you. how he innocently slid his hands up your shirt, or how he would push your hips down against his lap then act like he wasnt doing anything.

he was such a tease.. but you loved every second of it.

today was no different. you were on his lap in the living room and your lips were stuck together, dancing their own tune as your hips rolled down onto his crotch.

jungwon moaned into the kiss and held your hips still, not wanting to rush this moment just yet.

jungwon’s lips tasted like strawberries, as you both were just eating some sweets. and the taste of strawberries lingered on his tongue, which drove you desperate.

your fingers tangled into his hair and pulled him closer, your chest up against his own as his nails dug into the skin of your waist, his mouth chasing yours, trying to kiss you deeper if he could.

you’re breathing heavy, close to losing air as you both didnt want to pull away. but you had to, not wanting to pass out due to kissing ( but neither of you wouldve minded, if we’re honest. )

“fuck.. you always taste so good.” jungwon breathed, his voice shaky as he watched your eyes seem to be dazed. your mind was clouded with lust and love for your boyfriend, his face beautifully sweating.

“you with me, pretty girl?” jungwon giggled, his eyes watching you as you came back to reality. you nodded at him and noticed his lips bruised from the kissing and you couldnt help but blush.

jungwon leaned close and started to kiss down your neck, making you tilt your head to the side for him. “i love you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin. your hips grinding against his again, your hands going to his shoulders.

“i love you too, wonie..” you whined, feeling more and more desperate to feel him in any way, your lips already missing the taste of his.

jungwon seemed to notice and smiled, loving how precious you got when you needed him. his hand moved down to your thighs and let his fingers dance along the hems of your shorts, your breath hitched.

“wanna take these off, baby?” he asked softly, leaning back against the couch to look at you.

you nodded and moved away from jungwon, sitting on the cushion next to him as you took your shorts off along with your panties, jungwon doing the same with his pants and boxers.

before you could move back to his lap, jungwon was already on the move. he pushed you gently back against the couch as he got on his knees in front of you, positioning himself between your legs.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he mumbled, his hands smoothly rubbing your thighs before his middle finger traced around your clit, watching as your hips stuttered forward.

“wonie..” you breathed, your hands grabbing onto the cushions under you as you watched your boyfriend. he leaned close and widened your legs, his tongue sticking out as it made contact with your cunt.

jungwon took his time, appreciating the view before he slowly instered his tongue into your heat, your mouth hanging open as you watched him, legs spreading even wider for him.

soon enough jungwon was fucking you with his tongue, flicking your clit every now and then with his fingers, his breathing heavy as he laid his eyes on your face, watching you from his position between your legs.

you couldnt look away, too focused on how pretty he looked eating you out, his face slightly covered in your wetness, tearing you apart right under his touch. your moans growing louder each time he sucked on your clit, your legs trembling.

“fuck, fuck, im close.” you moaned, your hands now back in his hair as you pulled him closer, his tongue sliding deeper into your warmth. you made eye contact with jungwon and couldnt stop yourself from cumming right there, covering his face with your release.

jungwon could only smile up at you, always pleased with himself whenever he ruined you in any way.

you breathed heavily, slowly coming down from your climax when jungwon was sitting down back on the couch next to you and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

you could feel his hardened cock rubbing against your cunt, a soft whine escaping your lips as he groaned, bringing your lips into another kiss.

you could taste yourself on his tongue. jungwon used his arm around you and lifted you up slightly so he could position his cock against your entrance. before you could pull away he had slid you down on his length, causing you to moan out against his mouth from the stretch.

as you sunk down fully onto his lap, his cock deep inside you, he pulled away from the kiss and your head fell back, lips parted as he leaned forward to kiss along your collarbone.

“feel so tight, baby.” he said, leaving soft bite marks along your skin before he moved his hands to your hips again, gripping tightly as he lifted you up and pushed you back down, moans leaving your mouth at every move.

“so full,” you moaned, going back to focusing on his face. you watched everytime his face crinkled up at the pleasure, loving how this effected him as much as it effected you.

watching closely as his lips parted everytime you dropped down onto his cock, you couldnt stop yourself from capturing his lips onto your own once again.

you held onto his shoulders and shifted your legs that were on either side of his lap and began moving yourself, speeding up as you kissed him deeply. your moans muffled against his own while you continued to ride him, the sounds of your wetness echoing through the room.

you could sense jungwon getting impatient through the kiss, his nails digging into your skin as he held you still once again, a whine of confusion escaping your lips before you realized he wanted to do it himself.

his hips snapping up into you ruthlessly, the pace of his thrusts making you pull away from the kiss as the force was throwing you against his body roughly, your arms wrapping around his neck, eyes rolling back into your head.

“oh my god! just like that, please!” you cried out, jungwon only picking up his pace as you begged, his mind filling with you as his cock was fucking deep inside your heat.

“holy fuck, princess. you’re so wet, taking me so well.” jungwon moaned out, his teeth biting his lip as he continued to fuck up into you, “wont last long.” he whined, already feeling his stomach twist with the need to release.

you were on the same page as jungwon continuously hit the right spot for you, with so much force you felt like your skin was on fire, the pleasure getting too much.

your legs were trembling, your fingers grabbing a fist of jungwons hair and pulling his head back. you leaned in close and began kissing along his neck, listening to all the sounds he was making, moaning out your name with such desperation.

his hips started to stutter, getting sloppier each time they fucked up into you, his chest heaving. “baby, im gonna—im gonna cum,” he cried out, but he didnt want to do it alone.

he pushed himself more, taking up the rhythm he had before but quicker. he didnt focus on the roughness this time, he was fucking you with speed. the desperate craving of making you cum with him.

“oh god, jungwon! please, its so good.” you moaned, feeling yourself get closer and closer. your eyes starting to water from the pleasure, your breathing picking up again. “fuck, im gonna cum,” you whined loudly.

“please, cum inside me, wonie.” you begged. that one request took jungwon over the edge, his hips stuttering roughly before staying still, forcing your hips down as he filled you up with his cum.

you followed quickly behind, your back arching as you came, a loud cry of his name coming from your lips as you shook a bit, the pleasure overwhelming your body.

you fell against his chest, your face in his neck as you both just sat there. breathing heavily and dirty, his arms wrapping around your body gently, his thumbs rubbing your sides to sooth you from the intense release, his hips slowly moving into you to help you both ride it out.

“you did so well, pretty girl.” jungwon praised, watching your face as you leaned back just to kiss him again, already deepening the kiss like before, your heart racing.

jungwon pulled away and stared up at you lovingly, “dont do that, im gonna want to go again.” he whined cutely, pouting up at you. but you couldnt help it, your cunt already getting wet again as you rolled your hips against his cock, his breath catching in his throat.

“you’re going to be the death of me, princess.” jungwon grumbled as he flipped the two of you over. now you’re laying against the couch with him between your legs, and just within that second, he was fucking you again.

quick and rough, just like how he always did. bringing you into his mouth again as he thrusted, drowning in your wetness and lips, because all he could think about was your kisses.

note comment, fill this out or send an ask if you wish to be on a perm taglist 4 my works / enhypen 🫶

© byshens. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or post onto another platforms without my consent.

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Dating Lottie Matthews

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

Lottie Matthews they can never make me hate your kleptomaniac ass <3

~~~

LOTTIE. Lottie, Lottie, Lottie. Charlotte 'Lottie' Matthews who was born into wealth but resorts to stealing clothes from T.J Maxx only to return them, who grew up having anything she needed at her fingertips but nothing she actually wanted, who grew up listening to her parents argue until their inevitable split, who spent half her life hiding her medication and likely pushing down parts of herself because of her father's disapproval. Lottie Matthews who is lonely and tightly wound. Lottie Matthews who unexpectedly grows a crush.

Lottie's naturally quiet, more of an observer and commenter rather than someone constantly in the action like Taissa or even Natalie. She grew up with an emotionally distant father who held her at arm's length and threw money at her to keep her appeased, even when she was just a kid searching for her parent's approval. She wants to be wanted, she wants to be needed, she wants to be embraced for who she is. But she doesn't know how to get that from others.

So, when you pop into the picture with a friendly smile and a soothing voice, she isn't entirely sure how to proceed.  

"Hey," Lottie's eyes drift away from the window and turn upward, her brows twitching in faint confusion when your face registers as new in her head. You smile at her, all teeth and laugh lines, and she finds something comforting in it. "Can I sit here?"

Lottie immediately nods, fingers brushing the bangs resting over her forehead as she pushes the bottom of her shoes onto the floor so she can straighten up in her seat. "Of course." She adjusts her backpack and watches you settle into the desk pressed against hers, curiously taking note of the other empty seats scattered across the classroom. "Are you new here?" She asks, and then desperately hopes you are so she avoids looking like a total bitch.

Thankfully, you nod and confirm her thoughts. "I just moved here to live with my cousin for... the foreseeable future. You probably know him." She watches your eyes drop down to her letterman jacket draped over the back of her chair. "He's the assistant coach for the Yellowjackets. You must be... Charlotte or Genevieve?"

"Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lottie." Lottie's a little thrilled to have been (somewhat) correctly identified and she immediately wonders what Coach Scott must've said about her; all good things she hopes but she doesn't believe Coach Scott to be capable of malice. Her fingers toy with her dark hair, a little smile appearing on her lips. "I can, uh, show you around, if you want?" 

You look appreciative and a warm feeling blooms in her chest. "I'd like that. Thanks, Lottie."

Lottie's quick to make herself your very first friend at Wiskayok High School. She knows what it's like to feel alone in a big place, it's a feeling that follows her whenever she steps into the house she's meant to call home, so she ensures to introduce you to the other Yellowjackets as she leads you through hallways and helps you find your classes. Coach Scott's pretty pleased with her by the end of the day, which is simply a bonus.

While the team's pretty close-knit, most of them are just friends due to having soccer as a common interest, save for a few like Shauna and Jackie. Unless there's a school event or a party, they don't really hang out outside of school property, which leaves Lottie with only herself to keep her occupied when there's nothing else going on. Of course, now that you're in the picture, she has someone she can call and ask to hang with.

Coach Scott's surprised, especially when (on only your third day of living in Wiskayok) Lottie calls up the house phone asking if you're available. He's all for it. He himself has few real friends and as someone who views himself as more of a brother to you, he readily accepts your growing friendship with Lottie. He knew from the start he could count on the team to take you under their wing, he just expected it to be Jackie or Van seeking you out.

Lottie's eager when you agree to hang, so eager it's a little embarrassing. She knows deep down if she asks one of the girls to hang out that they might accept but she wants to have her own person. Jackie and Shauna have each other, Tai and Van are decently close, and Melissa and Gen are attached at the hip. Nearly everyone on the team has their own best friend, yet she doesn't. And she definitely doesn't want to awkwardly third wheel. That leaves her with you and she's happy with it.

Lottie immediately takes you to all her favorite spots and gives you a decent tour of the town, though not all 8,723 square miles. The town's a mixture of things; fancy suburbs and rundown trailer parks, plenty of shiny new strip malls and crumbling shops, residents driving in the latest cars while others had all their belongings stuffed in stolen shopping carts. She coaxes you into shopping and assures you it's on her as a welcome gift. Of course, when you aren't looking, she swipes a few small things from the stores she can gift you later.

Your friendship with Lottie steadily strengthens. You begin attending soccer practices much to her glee, spend the shared classes chatting away, hang out after school doing homework, and go to parties together. Lottie's feelings grow. She feels free, even though she doesn't dare mention her medication or diagnosis. Her father has made it clear it's something she must keep hidden and she doesn't want to weird you out.

She promises herself she'll tell you. Eventually. But she's too caught up in the bliss, especially when the friendship takes a turn into more romantic territory.

The air's growing chilly with the sun setting over the horizon and you take a moment to rub your fingers over a napkin before adjusting the jacket further over your shoulders to escape the cold. Lottie giggles beside you, her leg kicking back and forth, the bottom of her doc martens occasionally scuffing against the concrete and kicking up little rocks. She twirls a fry between her fingers before popping it into her mouth, big brown eyes crinkling with amusement and affection. 

"Did I mention-" You pause to sip on your cold beverage, washing down the mozzarella sticks you'd eaten moments prior. "-that I got asked out?" Your tongue darts out to collect the droplets still clinging to your lips, momentarily distracting Lottie before your words fully register in her head. 

Lottie blinks, a little alarmed at the revelation, and she straightens up in a way she hopes comes off as intrigued instead of worried. "Really?" She shoves another fry into her mouth and chews fast. There's a small edge to her tone but you don't seem to pick up on it given how you nod and reach for a fry. "Who?" 

You give a little sheepish smile and it makes her heart drop to the pits of her stomach. Her leg stops swinging and the rest of the fries grow ignored. "Uh, Gen, actually. She wanted to go to the mall on Saturday and called it a 'date'. Melissa looked too proud of her for it to be anything but a date. I don't know. Gen's nice and all but... I don't really know her."

"Yeah," Lottie agrees immediately, nodding her head so hard her hair bobs along with her movements. "You should get to know someone first before dating them. I mean, I haven't seen Gen in a relationship before, either. She could end up breaking your heart for all we know. I'd think about it if I were you." 

"Mm." You hum, propping your chin on your fist and gazing out toward the eruption of colors in the sky being chased away by the dark blue of the approaching night. "I wouldn't mind having a proper date to the dance, you know? Jackie's been talking about it nonstop in fourth period and she seems really excited about it. I think she's rubbed off on me." You laugh lightly and take a bite from another fry.

Lottie watches you for a good, semi-long beat, contemplating her next approach while anxiety creeps up along her spine. She scoots forward, closer to your side of the bench, until her knees knock against yours. You look back at her. "Come with me to the dance." She offers softly, her eyes studying your face to soak in your reaction.

"I already am, Lot."

With a smile and warming cheeks, she clarifies, "Not as my friend."

Things don't really change, honestly. Lottie remains as thoughtful, observant, and sweet as ever, though she's more touchy. While she's not all over you (she's not huge on PDA and prefers keeping most of it behind closed doors), she takes the liberty of holding your hand more often, leaning against you, and being close to you. 

Her gifts get a little more extravagant. She can't help it. She mimics the love she was taught and besides, most people like gifts, don't they? It's what she tells herself when she gifts you something and thinks of her father, at least. 

It's safe to say that Lottie enjoys quality time. She wants to be around you because your presence brings her immense comfort and keeps her relaxed. She loves simply hanging out, whether in silence, listening to music, or watching a movie.

Lottie doesn't keep the relationship a secret, but she doesn't go around bragging about it. If it comes up, it comes up. If one of the girls asks about it, she answers truthfully. Eventually, the team learns about it (including Coach Scott) and it surprises little to no one apart from a few.

Sexually speaking, Lottie isn't as needy as other Yellowjackets can be. Maybe while tipsy she gets a little giggly and more touchy, something often reciprocated, but she prefers sleeping together while sober. It's incredibly intimate for her, something she considers to strengthen the bond between you and her, but it's not a need for her. She doesn't randomly drag you into janitor closets or empty bedrooms during parties.

In the bedroom, control is really up in the air for whoever wants it more. Lottie can be submissive or dominant, sweetly romantic or stern. It simply depends on the mood and how she feels, as well as what led up to the moment. Lottie generally prefers things sweet, gentle, and romantic. 

Lottie is an amazing girlfriend, and of course, when the team makes it to Nationals, she wants you to be a part of the experience. She regrets it at first when the plane crashes... but her opinion drastically changes as time passes. 

[fearlesschimera]

Friend, I made it!!!! 😂 I'm finally pain-free, so I can write without being interrupted by anything or anyone! ♥️

Let's start with the first part! The opening scene was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. It gave me all the John Wick vibes (I don’t know if you’ve ever watched the franchise, but John is Roman, Roman is John ♥️). Dwayne deserves all the flowers for his entrance, and the same goes for Jacob, who was more than effective! I know Roman still doesn’t fully trust him, but I think he will be a valuable asset ♥️.The part I loved the most was Matteo’s ambush on Luca— that surprise effect was so well executed!!!

And now, the sad notes: Jimmy 💔 I have to say, friend, I have never been more conflicted in my life. Jimmy has his rights and wrongs, and the same goes for Roman. At some points, I wanted to scream at Roman, demanding some kind of mercy, but then, once he touched on certain points, I couldn’t say he was wrong. Same thing for Jimmy. Jimmy lost so much as well! He lost Roman, his father, his brother, and his twin, too, and he’s the one I blame the least out of everyone. Yes, he knew something wasn’t right, yes, he said nothing, but at the same time, he wasn’t involved, and the same goes for Naomi. I appreciated that Roman decided not to tell the whole truth about Rikishi, but if they ever manage to fix this mess in the future, I think he should know—because, even if it’s painful, he needs to understand what kind of person his father truly was. Maybe I’m too soft, but if I were Roman, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to keep Jimmy distant, not forever. Roman is conflicted, which is why I can’t and won’t lose hope 🥺🥺

Standing ovation for the suffering you put Paul and Seth through, friend 😂 It’s hard to say who deserved it more, but personally, I think Paul is a cut above—he was so fake and slimy, the personification of a snake! This sentence was a plus : “So much for that spoiler.” I screamed 😂

Sad notes, part 2: Jey 😭😭😭 A part of me just wanted to slap him hard in the face, and that part wanted to applaud Roman for the physical pain he put him through, but the other part of me, friend… that part cried like a baby! He’s so guilty and naive at the same time. His pride, jealousy, and stubbornness? A lethal mix. If redemption is possible for Jimmy, it’s very different for Jey. He is to blame for his decisions, and sadly, he is to blame for his wife’s death as well—because all of this pain could have been avoided. Now, he will pay the biggest price, and his kids will, too. Solana, being the wonderful woman and human being that she is, obviously asked Roman to spare him, and I couldn’t agree more. I know Roman is moved by anger, betrayal and a broken heart and I’m sure his instinct is to kill him, but I’m not fully sure he would actually do it, even if Solana hadn’t asked. I know forgiveness is off the table (?), but I think Solana’s request was more for Roman’s mental well-being than anything else. Because I think Roman has a soft spot for Jey—despite the conflicts of the past, maybe he is more similar to Roman than he likes to admit. Jey broke a code, broke so many hearts, made mistake after mistake, but… it’s Jey, and it’s not easy… damn it! 😂😭

Friend, the problem is that I need to hug this man 😭😭😭The image of him being home, alone, missing Solana… AND DULCE! 😭😭😭 Roman loves that cutie pie of a dog so much 🥺🥺🥺 And I was so happy he decided to talk with Lita. I was scared that this distance from Solana, combined with this giant trail of blood, would shut him off again, but his progress isn’t completely gone 🥺🥺He misses his wife, and he needs to figure out what to do with Matteo! I’m glad he finally decided to truly acknowledge his presence in his life and the fact that he knows, deep down, that he can trust him ♥️. That man left his wife and kids, too, in order to help and protect his fratello ♥️ (I love seeing some Italian words here and there, friend 😍🥺😂).

I know you’re not going to say anything 😂 but I swear, if that “you know what” is what I think it is—something I requested a while ago… let’s just say I already know I’m going to get complaints from my neighbours for how loud I’ll scream 😍😍♥️♥️😂Roman is surrounded by love. The betrayal was huge, but so is the love he is surrounded by. Life is slowly giving him back everything he lost, and it’s so beautiful ♥️Some voids are impossible to fill, but this is definitely an upgrade ♥️

Now, the end… FRIEND, THEIR MOTHER IS ALIVE???? 😱😱😱 I’m speechless, I’m in shock! What the hell has she been doing all this time? Why did she abandon her sons? We already know she never really wanted, loved, or even liked Roman, but still… WHAT’S GOING ON??? 😱😱😱

Side note: amazing job with the face claim, friend 😍. I’m not the biggest Monica Bellucci fan… that's why she’s perfect for this role 😂😂 However, I do love Harrison Ford 😍

I already know this last chapter is going to be SOMETHING! I loved that this one focused on Roman and his state of mind, so I can already tell it’s going to be even worse reading about Solana—because she has a different kind of approach. She feels everything, she’s a woman, she’s pregnant… a very bad combo 😂🥺😭.

Friend, you are something special. You did wonderfully as always, and I can’t express how fortunate I feel to be a small part of this journey that you decided to share with all of us! ♥️♥️♥️

looking through your eyes + thirty eight | part one

authors note: see at end of chapter.

warnings: angst and graphic depictions of violence. gore. torture. not for the faint of heart.

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

***gif credit goes to @romanreigns ***

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

"We need Tribal Combat!"

"There's no time for that! We need a leader now!"

"We need to follow the order of command!"

"What command? Roman is dead! There is no order anymore!"

"This is why he should have been dethroned a lot sooner! He left us no heir!"

"The child wouldn't be old enough to rule anyway!"

Aleki runs a hand over his haggard face. In a matter of weeks, he feels like he's aged another ten years.

He's getting too old to be dealing with this shit, and that's exactly what all of this is. A bunch of shit.

"Tribal Combat is the way our ancestors would handle a situation like this," he finally speaks. The situation being the fact that for the first time in his lifetime, the Bloodline is without a leader.

Roman is dead.

Solo is dead.

Roman left no heir, thus there is no clear path moving forward for what should occur. The past two weeks since the former Tribal Cheif's murder has been nothing but chaotic to say the least. Aleki is far too prideful to admit it, but a part of him blames himself. He should have known better than to trust Rikishi to get the job done. Should have known that just like he did years prior with Jey, he'd fall short.

Should have known his plan was not without holes. Holes that have left them in the mess they're in now. Allies demanding to know who is in charge, threatening to sever partnerships with a syndicate that boasts no formal, official leader.

A mess.

"And just how do we determine who is eligible for combat?"

Someone, another annoying voice, inserts their question among the mumbled conversations.

Another Elder handles the answer, offering, "it could be open to anyone."

Sione sighs, saying more to himself than anyone in particular. "Nakoa's bloodline has ruled for generations."

"And now his bloodline is all dead," Aleki counters. Cold. His voice and expression are as cold as the ice in his veins. "His son in his stubbornness has damned us to this mess." He gestures around the room, anger growing as he mulls over the situation. "We should have never allowed him to rule for so—"

His pending rant is cut short by the arrival of another attendee, which instantly has him scowling for two reasons.

One, all attendees who were allowed for this audience are present and accounted for.

Two, the identify of said attendee has him pissed.

"Dwayne." His voice is clipped. "This is a closed—"

"I don't give a fuck," comes the dismissive response of the man nearly insufferable as his late, younger cousin. Dwayne saunters over to an occupied seat, easily grabbing the seat by the back, yanking it out and knocking the person to the ground. A smug smirk sits on his face as he plops down and props his big ass feet on the table. Dwayne lifts the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to the top of his bald head. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"This doesn't concern you," Sione dismisses.

"Come on." The 'n' drags on as he props his hands behind his head. "I'm still Bloodline, aren't I?"

"You were apart of Roman's Bloodline, and he's dead now, so you have no place here anymore." Someone, an attendee whose name Aleki would never bother to know, counters with a huff. "Plus, where the hell have you been the past few weeks?"

Dwayne shrugs. "Around."

"Around." Someone else mocks. "Our empire in on the brink of collapse, and you've just been around."

"It's like candy ass small dick over here said." Dwayne gestures with his thumb. "I'm unemployed."

The insulted man slams his fist on the table, shooting up, "you smug son of—"

Dwayne quickly silences him by pulling out his Glock G-19 and shooting him directly in the temple, his lifeless body instantly dropping to the floor. Gasps sound around the table, Aleki angrily calling for security.

"You need to leave now!" He hisses. Aleki glances toward the door, wondering why the hell security didn't come barging in at the sound of a literal gunshot.

"See, I would, but I don't answer to you anymore." Dwayne replies in a significantly more serious voice. Gone is the nonchalant "devil may care" attitude. His big body shifts as he moves both elbows onto the table, gun still in hand. "I only answer to the Tribal Chief."

Aleki hisses. "Roman is dead. There is no Tribal Chief."

Dwayne's growing smile can only be described as sinister and predatory. Knowing. "You sure about that?"

Seconds later, not even a full minute, the sound of grunts and thuds from outside the conference room. The Elders and other attendees looking around in confusion.

Except for Dwayne.

He just keeps smiling.

And an almost thunderous sound is accompanied by two more unexpected arrivals. One significantly more unexpected than the other.

Jacob Fatu's unhinged, crazed look of insanity is accompanied by his big body throwing down two dead guards, their heads awkwardly and sickly hanging from their lifeless bodies. Snapped. Their necks have been snapped.

But, that grotesque sight is severely outmatched and borderline underwhelming compared to the inconceivable sight of a dead man walking.

Roman's hair is down and wild, his murderous gaze steady and focused forward. Brass knuckles attached to a chain are secured to his right fist. The table of men are suddenly in shambles, falling over and working to put as much distance between themselves and the man everyone has believed dead.

Again, everyone except Dwayne.

Aleki can barely compute what's happening before him. So much so that there's no time to react, no time to think, just a tremendous of pain that courses through his aged body. Because one minute, he's in his chair at the head of the table, and the next he's on the floor, an enraged Roman having slapped the heavy metal chain against his body.

The old man cries out in agony as the chain is whipped once more, cutting into his skin and laying heavy onto his already brittle bones.

"Please!" He begs, allotted a brief respite as Roman redirects his focus onto Sione and the other Elders, each being mercilessly whipped with the chains.

Punishment.

He's punishing them.

"You wanna take me out!" Roman's infuriated voice slams against the walls the same way he starts to slam his fists against the broken, bloodied men who sought to see him six feet under. "It ain't ever fucking happening!" Roman lands a bone breaking kick to the neck of one of the elders, killing him instantly. The next is killed not directly by Roman but by proxy, as he screams for Jacob.

Jacob, who grabs his gun and shoots out a window, marches over, snatching the man up, dragging him to the window and not wasting a second of a minute to toss him out of said window.

Onlookers watch in horror as one by one, Roman kills them all in various brutal ways. Suffocation. Slit throats. Snapped necks. A brutal beating with the brass knuckles. Various, violent methods and manners in which each meet an untimely, grisly demise. But, the best is saved for last. Aleki. A thorn in Roman's fucking side since he was a boy.

The older man is barely clinging onto life when Roman easily snatches that life away with each slap of the heavy chain, the brass knuckles slammed onto his face until it's disfigured beyond recognition. And finally, the severing of life is achieved via the slicing of the large hunting knife across his throat.

Heaving, splattered with blood, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, nothing but adrenaline and unbounded rage soar through Roman. His lethal gaze falls on the room of people who've been forced to watch the gory bloodbath.

The faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Good.

Dwayne whistles. "Well, if it isn't obvious, he's not dead."

Roman shoots his older cousin a glare. Dwayne simply shrugs while Roman tips the chair back over, kicking Aleki's body to the side, rolling the chair and sitting down.

And silence. A piece of lint could fall off the wrinkled shirt of the man sitting a few seats down from Roman, and it could still be heard.

Fear.

Fear fills the room and dances off the walls, surrounds the men who just witnessed a bloodbath unlike any.

And then, finally, a brave—or stupid—soul decides to take a risk. Take a chance. "You're….you're alive."

Roman's gaze easily flickers to the man whose wide, horrified gaze is focused on him, trembling finger pointing in his direction. "We—we thought—"

One nod toward Jacob, and the man is barely able to stammer out an "I'm" before his head is violently forced to the side, the sound of his neck snapping followed up with the loud thud sound of it dropping onto the table.

The men around him back and cower away, eager and desperate to escape the death that's already claimed their pathetic lives.

"I was betrayed." Is the first thing to leave his mouth, the word 'betrayal' leaving a bitter, disgusting aftertaste that has him craving more blood. Craving vengeance. "They tried to overthrow me. Tried to kill me, and they should have." Roman stabs the large knife into the table, almost certain he heard someone whimper, as if about to cry. As if they were already crying. "They should have because they killed my wife, and now there's no fucking place on this earth anyone can hide or escape my rage." Saying it aloud is more difficult than Roman anticipated. Playing along with this storyline where Solana is no longer among the living. The discomfort is only quelled by the constant reminder that she is okay. That she's safe and simply waiting for him to return to her after handling business.

And, that's exactly what he's going to do.

Roman digs the knife deeper into the wood. "When I'm done with everyone involved in this shit, the only thing anyone will be able to see is red, and that's the fucking blood I'm going to paint this whole fucking town with." Sitting back in the chair, Roman leaves the knife protruding from the table. "But, until then, I need you all to send them a message."

Another foolish, ignorant, naive soul decides to ask what will be the final thing to leave his mouth before he leaves this room. "Wh—what m-m-message, s-s-sir?"

And for the first time since his entrance, Roman offers something other than a menacing glare. He smiles, but there's nothing humorous about it. If anything, it's predatory.

"That I'm coming."

Similar to the onslaught Roman bestowed upon the now deceased Elders, it's quick and violent. Jacob and Dwayne work almost simultaneously, not killing, but maiming the men. Severed, bloodied pieces cut from bodies. Fingers, noses, ears. Nothing fatal. Just warning enough.

And, it's only when each men has been left with a mark, a sign of Roman's pending revenge, they're ushered and forced out the room. Jacob landing a particularly painful looking blow into the back of the last disfigured, partially dismembered man.

Rolling his shoulders, Roman doesn't even need to instruct them on what to do next. Dwayne is reaching for the laptop, ripping a shirt off one of the dead elders to use it to clean it of the blood. "Fucking disgusting," he hisses, throwing it down once its completed the job.

Roman's eyes cut to the clock on the wall. Right on time.

He's uncaring of his appearance, focused on one thing and only.

Blood.

Roman is out for blood.

As Dwayne works to get everything set up and synced to the large TV screen anchored onto the wall, Jacob stands off to the side, waiting, observing, protecting almost.

Roman would be lying if he said he wasn't skeptical when Solana first told him about Jacob.

Told him how he allegedly protected her and vowed his loyalty to Roman and Roman only, as he recognized Roman as the Tribal Chief.

The only Tribal Chief.

Told her how not everyone in the Bloodline was involved in the coup, and many were waiting for Roman to show up.

Truth be told, Roman is still trying to test that. Test Jacob. So far, he's proven useful, offering Dwayne and Matteo intel and information on those allegedly involved and those not involved.

He's a a hell of a body to have around, capable of the most violent desecration of people. Useful. He's useful, but only time will tell to what extent Roman can trust him.

Can trust anyone, really.

"It's ready," Dwayne announces. Roman breaks from his thoughts, rolling his shoulders once more, ignoring the throb. Solana would have his ass for all the physical exertion. But, it needs to be done.

The sooner Roman handles this, the sooner he can have her back home with him.

Right where she belongs.

Dwayne and Jacob move to take seats, both on opposite sides of the table but in view of the TV that also serves as a casting source. The television screen is then filled with the exact person Roman wants to see next.

"This is a fucking waste of time." Luca's irritated voice is heard, his irksome ass face focused on something beside him. It looks like he's signing something. "Without someone of Italian blood at the head of your table, we have no alli—"

He stops, finally turning to look at the screen, and if there was ever someone to be as pale as Casper the fucking ghost, it's Luca.

"Roman." He all but whispers.

The Tribal Chief remains stone face. "Luca." He tilts his head. "You look surprised."

The younger man stammers, eyes darting around, hardening slightly when he lands on Dwayne who offers a small, mocking wave.

He then narrows his focus back on Roman. Clearing his throat, trying to play off indifference, he straightens his tie. "We were told you were dead."

"Were you?" Luca makes a sound. "I suppose that would have made things a lot more easier for you, now wouldn't it?"

Luca glares. "Just what—"

"Don't fucking play with me," Roman growls. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know you've been trying usurp me. That you were behind that missing shipment. The hit that killed our men. That you sent my brother to spy on me. That you were working with them to kill me."

Roman refuses to name them. Refuses to have their names on his lips. They're not fucking worth it.

Luca, to the best of his limited abilities, tries to remain unbothered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

At that, Roman chuckles, smiling, looking down and nodding. "That's….that's good." Roman can give credit where it's due. Albeit a paltry amount. But, just as quickly as he was smiling, he's glaring. "But, here's the fucking problem, I'm better. I'm better than you. Better than anyone else in this fucking family. I've always been better, and I always will be better." Always. "And you know what else?" A beat. "I'm always three steps ahead."

Luca opens his mouth to respond, fire and fury dancing in his irises when commotion can be heard through the TV.

Roman smirks.

Luca looks to the side, once angered, now confused, and then disturbed.

Gunshots. It's the sound of gunshots.

He curses in Italian, barking orders at what's probably security.

Roman says nothing.

It makes no difference.

None whatsoever.

He just sits back in his chair, enjoying the sound of men crying out in pain, bodies dropping, bullets being emptied into now lifeless corpses.

Luca's clearly shitting bricks, perspiring, gun in his shaky hand. He calls out another order that's cut short by what sounds like the door being kicked open.

Gunshots ring once more, back to back, strategic and aimed.

Luca curses loudly, holding onto his shoulder where he's been shot.

And seconds later, the base of his neck is exposed as another figure stands behind him, forcing his head back, gun pressed to his temple.

Matteo

True to his character, Luca uses his dying words to curse at not only Roman but Matteo who stands with a smug expression, giving Roman only a simple nod of acknowledgment.

Roman smirks.

He sits back in his chair, voice calm and collected. A contrast to the mayhem just unleashed. "Luca." The man in question struggles and works to move out of Matteo's unrelenting grasp. "Take this free advice. If you're gonna go for the devil, you should go always go for the head, because if you miss." A quiet chuckle. "He sure won't."

A loud bang followed by blood and brain matter splattering the screen, partially obscuring the view of Luca's lifeless body slumped over.

Like a bug, Matteo shoves him away, taking the seat, seemingly unbothered by the blood that stains his clothes, hair, and skin.

"It's done."

"Good." Sitting forward, Roman's mind travels to the mental list curated. "Get on the first flight back here."

Matteo nods. "Will do." The connection ends, and Roman closes the laptop.

Looking around the room, he readies to order Dwayne to start seeing about replacements for the Elders council but ultimately decides against it.

It can wait.

He has bigger, important things to worry and focus on, like making his way down his infinite kill list.

The OTC is coming.

---------

There are many, many things on Roman's to-do list once he arrives back home. Many bloody, violent things. Lives to take, primarily.

But, while that remains near the top, there are other things that also require his attention. Things he'd moderately prefer to not have to do but things he needs to do.

It's what leads him a few days later standing outside of Jimmy and Naomi's house. One of his first of many stops during his "revival" tour of sorts.

But, the minute the door is ripped open, and Roman is standing face to face, directly across from Jimmy, a new influx of confusing emotions fill him. The same way they paint the face of his wide eyed cousin.

Roman can see the way Jimmy continues to grip the door so tightly that his knuckles whiten. "It's….it's true." Roman's jaw twitches as he briefly looks away. "You're…you're alive?"

"We need to talk," is Roman's response. He looks at Jimmy. "Can I come in?"

A delayed response is followed up with an almost distracted head nod as Roman makes his way inside of his cousin's home, a place he's been in countless times over his almost 40 years on this earth. But, this…..this has to be the first time where it's felt different. Felt off. Felt wrong.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jimmy breathes. Roman turns around to face him, seeing the shock and confusion melt away into a bowl of anger. "We thought you were dead, Roman. Almost everyone thinks you and Solana—" He stops himself, pausing, eyes widening slightly. "Wait, is she—"

A pause. Hesitation. The moment Roman wrecked his brain over and over again trying to navigate the best way to handle such a tricky, complicated, complex situation. Ultimately, Solana's words and recommended or requested approach taking front seat. "She's safe."

Once the words leave his mouth, there's a semblance of regret. Like, he wishes he had gone a different route. Almost like he wishes he'd continued to maintain the story being spread about the fate of his pregnant wife.

Jimmy places both hands behind his head, walking away just enough to blow out a big breath. "What the fuck, Roman?" He growls, walking back over and pointing upstairs. "You got any fucking idea how gutted Naomi and I been?" He scowls, the anger and relief clearly at odds. "Thinking you and Sol were—"

"I know what you thought," he interrupts, hating his own emotions being at war. "You thought what we needed everyone to think."

Jimmy swallows. "Even me?" Silence. He once again motions upstairs. "Even Naomi?"

Silence

He runs a hand over his face, and in that moment, Roman can see for the first time the toll all of this has taken on him. He looks drained. "Roman….I know….I know what happened was fucked up. I'm not denying that. But, to treat Naomi and I like this when we ain't even do nothing?" He shakes his head. "When I'm already having to mourn my brother and father—"

"The same people who tried to kill me?" Roman interrupts, his voice sharp and even. "The people who kidnapped and were going to kill my wife?"

"I know that, Uce—"

"Do you?" A pointed question, as anger starts to overpower everything else. "Cause you're acting like I did something fucking wrong—"

"You did!" Jimmy snaps. "You kept us in the fucking dark when we deserved to know the truth!"

"The same way you kept me in the dark?" Is Roman's almost quiet response. He sees the way Jimmy's anger twitches, how it's briefly interrupted by what Roman considers to be a valid point. "For years, your father was trying to get ya'll to challenge me, trying to turn you against me, and you never said anything. Never told me shit!"

"I told you, I didn't realize—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did or didn't realize. I had a right to know!" He needed to know. Roman needed to know that the same people he considered family, the closest thing he had left to a father figure, even with them never necessarily being super close, was plotting against him the entire time. "If you had just told me—"

"Then what? It would have changed something?" Jimmy shouts, also unwilling to back down like the man across from him. "Would have stopped all this from happening? Would change what happened—"

"I don't know!" A forced, short, angry response as the Tribal Chief turns away, running his hand over his face. This conversation is equally heavy as it is challenging. He wasn't stupid enough to expect anything about it to be easy, but Roman can't deny a small part of him hoped it would go….different. In what way, he's not entirely sure. Just something….not this.

"Uce, we can figure this out—"

Roman briefly turns to him. "Can we?"

And, when Jimmy doesn't respond immediately, doesn't respond at all, Roman realizes in one area of all of this shit, they're on the same page. They're both confused as to how to untangle this massive mess of betrayal, lies, and hurt. Because for Roman, it's not even the coup organized by the people he once considered family, it's the fact that he also has to come to grips with that same "family" was a part of the plan that cost Roman his entire immediate family.

Left him essentially alone.

In many ways, that's what hurts the most.

But, it's also something Roman has opted to not tell Jimmy. As much hatred the Tribal Chief holds toward Solo and Rikishi, he can still acknowledge that was Jimmy's brother and father. He won't complicate his cousin's grief.

Because Roman doesn't hate him.

Doesn't hate him at all.

He just can't trust him anymore, and he's not sure if and when that will change.

Which is why he settled on the decision he did. The decision he's ready to finally share.

"When Solana comes home, and she will come home, I don't want to see you."

Gaze focused on the wall art in Jimmy's living room, Roman doesn't need to be looking at his cousin to know he's floored. "W-what?"

He swallows, recalling the specific wording he decided on. "You're out of my inner circle. I'll have Dwayne find a position for you in the Bloodline when things settle—"

"Roman—"

"Solana can decide for herself what she wants her relationship with Naomi to be, but I don't want either of you at my house."

"You can't—"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." Even if he's not entirely sure it's exactly what he wants. It's the best Roman can do under these circumstances.

All he can do.

That doesn't mean there's not the reappearance of that damn weight that's been on his chest ever since he had to leave Solana. Even before that, if he's being completely honest with himself.

"My decision is final, Jimmy." Because maybe sticking to the facts, or rather the stipulations Roman has decided to put in place until he can navigate a better solution might be helpful. Emotions are getting in the way of business.

Jimmy just looks at him, stares at him, unwilling or maybe even uncaring of how visible his many emotions are. "So, that's it?" Roman's jaw clenches. "After everything we been through, the good, the bad, the everything in between. Almost 40 years of friendship, of being family….." He swallows, emotion and vulnerability on full display. "You're like my brother, Roman—"

"But not a brother, right?" Silence. "That's why you didn't say anything."

It's a deeply rooted point of insecurity. One that Roman hasn't really allowed himself to think too much about since he was a kid. That feeling of being "not like them." Of feeling like he didn't necessarily "belong."

An outsider among his own blood.

"This isn't fair, and you know it," Jimmy finally responds. "You're punishing me, punishing Naomi, for something that we didn't even do."

Perhaps. The Tribal Chief won't entirely deny that. He knows he can be vindictive, and maybe some part of him does want to punish them in a way he can't the deceased. But, the vast majority of him only seeks to have a temporary solution in place to relieve him of all the other very many tasks on his plate.

And, the deep fucking truth of the matter is also something he won't allow himself to admit aloud but feels fully.

He needs Solana.

Roman needs his wife to help him sort through all of this. He needs her support. Her safety. Her sage wisdom and soft way of helping him navigate these things. So, until that can happen, this is what needs to happen.

Roman takes a deep breath. For as nice and big a home Jimmy and Naomi have, it's suddenly feels a lot more stuffy than he recalls. A lot less welcoming. His presence more…intruding than anything.

"I have to go." Both a truth and a lie. The day is practically just getting started, but time waits for the Tribal Chief. He could stay longer, could maybe talk things through with his cousin.

Problem is he doesn't want to.

Not right now.

Not for a while, most likely.

Roman is a bit unsure why he's some level of bothered by Jimmy not protesting his leave. It's what's best….

Right?

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Roman's hand is halfway to touching the doorknob when he's hit with the question. The one he knew was coming but hoping wouldn't. The one that makes sense. "You're going to kill him."

His eyes shut.

Debated. Roman debated the hell out of and with himself to try to figure out how he would tackle that one. Of course, Jimmy would want to know that. Would want to know if another person will be added to the list of lost loved ones. Especially his brother.

Jey.

Roman also considered how to respond to this, how much he wanted to share, if he wanted to grant Jimmy some sense of peace with knowing the answer or grief with also knowing the answer.

Roman swallows once more.

And, he walks out the door.

-----------

The only way for Roman to decompress from his heavy conversation with Jimmy and all that will come from the decisions that have been made is to cope the best way he knows how.

Murder.

Roman needs to cross off another name from his hit list.

Two, precisely.

"Where the fuck are they?" Dwayne complains and swats away a pesky fly that seems to prefer to fly around and in his personal bubble. "Fucking hate the outdoors."

Matteo snickers. "So, you wouldn't accompany Afia, the kids and I on a camping trip?"

Dwayne just stares at him. "Do I look poor to you?"

Roman manages a chuckle and a thought of something else. About the sacrifice Matteo is also making by being here with him. Standing with him. He's also separated from his wife. From his children. Agreeing to no contact to help keep Solana being alive a secret.

Roman swallows.

He didn't really realize until just now how massive an ask that was.

And how Matteo never once hesitated to agree to join him.

The sound of a truck engine revving is a welcomed distraction and something that allows Roman to reorient his focus to the task at hand. Jaw clenched, he watches the ambulance come to an abrupt stop followed by the drivers door being flung open.

Jacob's large body drops down, his boots leaving imprints in the slightly muddy ground as he stomps to the back of the truck and snatches the door open.

Hate fills the Tribal Chief as he watches Jacob angrily and almost erratically yank the two hospital beds out the back, both participants crying out in pain as they tumble onto the ground.

But, the cries of pain from one ease into a sick, twisted, laugh.

Roman's stomp onto his neck effectively silences that laugh. Seth's brown eyes peer up into him, that deranged smile on his face causing Roman to lift his foot and stomp once more. Seth almost instantly coughs up blood.

However, it's wheezing from the rotund man on the ground a few feet away from the lunatic under him that snatches Roman's focus.

Carefully, slowly, he walks over, anger accompanying each step until he kicks Paul over, a loud howl leaving his former advisor's mouth.

Tears stream down his face that has a large bandage on the right cheek and other unhealed cuts around various areas. "Pl—please."

Roman growls. That damn word has easily become one of his least favorites.

Similar to Seth, Roman lands his boot down on the top of Paul's fat neck. As the man screams out in pain, Dwayne chuckles.

"I know that hurt."

It all must hurt, Roman realizes. Hurt tremendously. Good.

For the first time, he takes in the sight and state of the two men before him still in hospital gowns. Their legs and arms covered with bandages, peaks of red, burned skin peaking out, the lesser of their injuries minimal compared to the latter end of severe.

Severe…

Nothing will ever be severe enough for them.

Roman barks for a knife, and the minute he's handed one, he crouches down and begins cutting. Not just the bandage. The fresh, still healing skin graft underneath the bandages as well. The screams of pain are ear piercing and music to Roman's fucking ears.

Methodically, like a butcher mastering his craft, he cuts away, ignoring the blood and body matter that splatters and splashes his clothes, tossing the mangled, ruined patches of fleshto the side like trash to the can.

Around him, no one interferes, no one stops him, and no one damn sure responds to Paul's blubbering as he transitions between screaming, apologizing, and eventually begging for Roman to just kill him.

That last is definitely on the agenda. Just not yet.

Because, one he's done butchering victim one, he transitions to victim two. Seth. Seth's torture is the eerily the same, the maniacal laughing eventually melting into sobs of agony. But, he doesn't beg for death, doesn't beseech the Tribal Chief for mercy.

No, that doesn't come until Roman is handed the electric chainsaw.

It comes then. Screams and shouts of unimaginable pain as Roman saws off arms and legs, one by one, blood shooting and spurting out. Again, the man intent on making their last minutes on earth nothing but horrific, forever uncaring. It's satisfying in a demented sort of way, but Roman doesn't care.

They're getting exactly what they deserve.

Heaving and sweating from the exertion expended through the torture, Roman only stops when all that remains is exposed bone from where he cut off their arms below the elbows and their knees slightly above the knees.

He would have continued too, if not for the fact both men are starting to lose consciousness, and that won't do.

He wants them awake for as long as humanly fucking possible.

Especially for the grand finale.

Roman snaps, speaking to Jacob. "Douse em'."

An order that doesn't need to be repeated. As Roman lifts off his shirt that's caked in blood, pieces of bone, and human flesh, tossing it to the ground, Dwayne hands him a towel to dry off and remove some of the other unmentionables.

Jacob moves quickly and efficiently, pouring the gasoline all over what remains of Paul and Seth's carved up bodies. Drenches them.

And with a wicked smirk on his face, Matteo tops it off, tops them off with the cherry on top.

An accelerant.

He forces their mouths open, the sound of them gurgling and choking sounded out with a kick to the side of the head. It's effective, allowing him to empty the bottle that he tosses to the side.

"Done," he says, voice ice cold as he goes to stand beside Dwayne and Jacob. None of them showing even the slightest hint of disturbance. If anything, there's more of a pleased, satisfied aura.

Recognizing they've reached the end of the road, that the men are mere minutes away from unconsciousness—and death—Roman stalks over to them. Slowly. A predator enjoying the final moments of his prey's existence. Moments that must consist of pain beyond human comprehension.

He looks down, the sight grotesque and enough to evoke vomiting from anyone without a seasoned stomach, but Roman is anything but. The sight makes him smile. The putrid smell of exposed bone, organs, and extensive blood pleasing to him in every sense of the word.

A dark, quiet chuckle leaves his mouth. "So much for that spoiler."

Stepping back, his eyes dart between the both of them, studying and committing the grisly image to memory.

Gratifying, indeed.

And without much thought, he pulls out the matchbox, lighting two matches, each thrown onto the men.

Turning on his heel, Roman walks away, tuning out their screams of misery and suffering.

"Let's go." It's spoken to the three men with him as they head out of the forest and to their SUV's. Extracting his revenge on the two men grants Roman with a sense of relief. He's relieved to know those two fuckers no longer breathe, or will breathe, the same air as him.

But, as gory and sadistically satisfying as Paul and Seth's deaths are, it still doesn't dull or ease the mixed emotions that fill the Tribal Chief at the thought of his next task.

Arguably, one of the hardest he has to complete.

----------

There's one reason and one reason alone why Roman asks Matteo and Dwayne to be present for this.

One very valid, important reason that can't be ignored or pushed aside. It's not his preference though.

Not really.

This is so personal that it feels almost wrong to have other parties present, but Roman also knows himself. Knows that when he fully succumbs to that uncontrollable rage that dwells within him, he can't see or think beyond it. It totally and wholly consumes him. Controls him.

Thus….his need for a contingency plan.

Roman has his back toward the door that's flung open, the intensity causing nearby photos on the wall to shake. Roman sighs. As effective as Jacob can be, he's…..a lot.

The Tribal Chief turns around just in time to see one cousin throw down the man Roman also once considered cousin.

Considered family.

Considered to be a brother.

As prideful as he can be, Roman would never deny the fact that he could have done a better job with being less hard on the twins. Less…..him. But, the truth of the matter is that despite the frosty disposition and irritation that marred a lot of their interactions, no one but the three of them know what they've been through. The countless times they've had each other's back out in the field. Protecting and looking out for each other.

The times Roman looked out for Jey.

All those moments that have boiled down to and left them right where they are now.

Jey, on the floor before him, hands on the ground, his fiery gaze on the man he also once considered family.

And seeing it, seeing Jey be upset with him?

It pisses Roman the fuck off.

He walks toward his table and grabs the brass knuckles. Both pair.

"Get out." A command directed only toward Jacob who offers no protest, walking out the same way he came in, standing watch outside the door.

"Roman…"

Roman has completely tuned out the voice of either Dwayne or Matteo. He doesn't know nor does he care.

Roman lifts his foot, kicking Jey right in the face with so much force that his body jerks back violently.

"You son of a bitch," he growls, not wasting a second to pounce on top of him, aiming for his ribs first. Jey's' howl of pain drives his determination—and fury—and distracts the Capo from his own lingering pain. The injuries that have not yet fully healed, marginally due to the fact that Roman has done nothing but exert himself from the moment he landed back home.

He'd kept his promise and continued rehab, continued to follow the doctor's orders, but that was all in between carrying out violent, bloody, brutal punishments for every fucker who turned on him.

Including the one underneath him.

And thinking of Solana, thinking of how she's not here, not with him, it only deepens the color of red he sees.

It's all he sees.

The sound of Jey's ribs cracking and his fruitless efforts to push the enraged man off him only drive Roman to lift the man up and slam him against the nearest wall. Another brutal kick to his ribs. Roman doesn't care if every single one is broken.

He grabs Jey by the chin, squeezing, enjoying the way his face remains scrunched up in pain. "You broke up my Bloodline." Not the massive crime syndicate that Roman has spent the better half of his life improving and making it into the billion dollar empire that it is now. He's referring to the family component, the familial bond and connection they shared.

That Bloodline.

"My wife isn't here because of you, Jey. You understand?" Roman continues. A part of him wonders if anything, especially that, means anything to Jey. He's unsure if Jey knows that Solana is actually alive or if he even cares, because his wife is most certainly not.

And, it's that, Roman is sure, that fuels Jey's hatred. Has him, despite the brutal beating he's receiving, refusing to cower, to show any sign of fear. Just impenetrable defiance.

"I looked out for you, I spared your fucking life, saved your ass time and time again, and what do you do?" Another fresh wave of rage, as Roman slams Jey's head back against the wall, shouting, "you break up my fucking family!"

Again, double, maybe even multiple meanings, all with one heartbreaking conclusion.

It creates a brief fracture in Roman's anger, paves the way for a small glimpse of what lies underneath all of that fury that courses through his big body. "I would have never done this shit to you, Jey."

Because, he wouldn't. Because for all the bad things Roman is, how awful he could be, he would have never stooped so low. Would have never allowed whatever prideful feelings he was struggling with to lead him down a path that could only end in heartbreak. But, Jey did. His insecurities got the best of him, and it's cost him.

It's cost him dearly.

Because as far as Roman is concerned, Nicki's death is on him.

"So just…." Jey coughs up blood as Roman realizes at some point in his inner dialogue, he'd moved back to pounding Jey into the floor. "Just…do it." Roman stops and stares at him, his own chest heaving. "You wanna kill me…..fucking do it then, Uce. It's…it's what you want, ain't it?"

Bullshit.

Roman can see right through it, right through the paltry front he's trying to put up in the face of a true life or death situation. Stubborn as all outdoors, very much like himself, Roman knows that Jey loves his kids more than anything. He would never want to "leave" them.

Especially after what's happened.

He's calling Roman's bluff, and that pisses him to fuck off.

For more reasons than the man under him and the two before him can realize.

Roman closes his eyes.

"Please." It's the pleading nature of her voice as well as the borderline desperation in her eyes that has Roman struggling. Struggling with it all. "I know….I know what he did was wrong."

"It wasn't just wrong, Solana," he calmly counters. Roman is working hard to be mindful of his tone with her. The anger that dances and burning within is 100% not aimed or geared towards her. Whatsoever. "It was unforgivable."

She swallows. "I know." He shuts his eyes once more as she continues to gently massage his scalp with one hand, the other tracing his inked arm, carefully maneuvering the ridges of disfigured skin from his burn scars. "But, I'm not….I'm not asking you to forgive him, Ro."

"No," he murmurs, jaw flexing. "But, what you're asking is a lot fucking harder."

Solana moves closer, her hand traveling to his face. "Roman….his kids lost their mother." She licks her lips and shakes her head. "We both grew up without our mothers, and I know that your relationship with yours was…..complicated, but….mine wasn't and not having her…." Her eyes watering is something he can't avoid. Can't ignore. "No child deserves that, Roman, and you know it." His silence is all that she needs to continue. "Baby, I know I'm asking a lot from you, but….please don't kill him."

He's always said and "joked" about never being able to say no to her. But, this….this might be a first. "Solana…."

"Please, Roman." Her voice cracks as she leans up, her forehead against his, breathing. "For me."

Roman is returned to the scene before him, to the decision he'd made just this morning. A decision he's not sure how he'll handle moving forward, but it's one he's accepted as his final answer.

"I'm not going to kill you," he announces. Jey can't hide his surprise, and Roman would bet his cousin and brother mimic similar expressions.

He hadn't shared his decision with anyone until this very moment.

"And, the only fucking reason I'm not is because of the woman you almost got killed," he hisses. Jey continues to look dumbfounded. "But, you are fucking dead to me in every other sense of the word. You've got a fucking week for you and your kids out of the city. Your security access is revoked, your position with the Bloodline done. You are done."

Jey continues to look around, obviously struggling to process what's being said. Like, he hadn't expected Roman to actually kill him and yet still expected Roman to kill him.

"I never want to fucking hear or speak to you ever again, you understand me?" It's a watered down warning. It's all watered down, truly. Even the fact that Jey lays before him, potentially half dead, in need of medical assistance. It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough, even if he took his cousin's life with his bare hands. And, Roman knows this.

Still, this has to be one of the hardest decisions he's ever made.

"But, if you ever fucking step foot in this town again, I don't care what Solana says, I'll fucking kill you. I swear it on Fetu's grave." A vow to carry out the act of vengeance, love, in all the irony, prevents him from completing.

It's solely Roman's love for Solana that stops him from killing Jey.

Nothing else.

Literally nothing else.

Roman's final declaration is accompanied by another stomp, this time to Jey's face, effectively knocking him out cold. Standing up and rolling his neck, Roman grimaces and grabs at his shoulder.

Way too much exertion. Not that it makes a difference.

Jey is just one of many he plans to visit today.

He looks over his shoulder, uncaring and unwilling to discuss what transpired. What's done is done.

Roman so casually, and coldly, walks over Jey's slumped, unconscious body and snatches his jacket off the hook behind the door. "Let's go."

Footsteps of the other two men follow him swinging the door open, Jacob standing at attention.

"Make sure he's gone by the time I'm back," Roman commands. What's done has been done, and while there's a tremendous amount of unspoken, unresolved issues between himself and the man he's just effectively banished indefinitely, it's not a task he's up for.

Not now.

Not ever.

Roman meant what he said.

Should Jey ever try to return to the city, Roman will absolutely kill him.

But, until then, he might as well already be dead.

Because he is to Roman.

---------

Following Roman's dramatic, bloody return from his supposed demise, he places the city on lock down.

No one enters, and no one leaves.

Armed guards, a mixture of verified Bloodline loyalists as well as soldiers from the Legado Del Fantasma, remain stationed at every entrance into the city, whether it be by land or harbor, to ensure that this order remains non-violated.

Roman intends for not a single fucker to escape his bloody vengeance.

And bloody, it most certainly is.

Nothing but unbridled rage courses through Roman's body as he spends the weeks making his way down his list eliminating target after target. Traitor after traitor. Life after life, taken.

Doors are kicked down, pieces of shit dragged out. Some granted quick death. Simple head shots that leave blood and brain matter splattered in the nearest vicinity. Some are tossed off of buildings, leaving their splattered remains for all to see. Some are used as examples. Their tortured, mangled remains tied up on display in the middle of the streets as both a reminder and a warning. A reminder of what happens to all who dare to cross Roman fucking Reigns, and a message to those who played in any role in the coup that he's coming, and he's coming for blood.

Roman has the city in a state of terror and fear. Families keeping their children in the house. Picking them up and dropping them off to school to avoid being caught in the cross hairs. A bit unnecessary, as despite Roman slipping back into that dark space that consumed him before Solana, his few morals remain the same. Women and children are off limits.

Neither of those groups are included in his hit list.

Everyone else though…..tough.

But, while the adrenaline that races through him fuels his revenge tour, that fuel of sorts easily melts away when he arrives home later in the evening. Arrives to an empty home. No sweet, delicious aroma of Solana's cooking to greet him. Or the pitter-patter of Dulce's feet as she races to the front door, eager to jump at and try to lick him but mostly just wanting to be petted and to have her belly rubbed. Being able to come up behind his wife, holding her, kissing her temple, taking in the feel of her body up against his.

Things he'd gotten used to.

Things he misses.

He misses a lot.

He misses her.

He thinks about her, about what she could be doing, about whatever pregnancy symptoms she could be experiencing, as he follows along via the app she'd installed on his phone. He checks daily, each time wondering about the swell of her stomach, imagining the excitement she must feel. Or, the sadness.

Because there is something undeniably sad about them not being able to experience this together. Something that was so important to her.

Important to him.

Being there with her to support her as she carries his children, their children, is important to him.

But….but, her safety comes first.

Their safety comes first.

Her absence is with him every fucking second of the day, though on the back-burner when the sun sits comfortably in the sky, and he has the distraction of his murderous rampage. But, when the sun is replaced with the moon, and he lays in that same bed where they've made love countless times, where she's laid on his chest, talking about her day. Where he's held and slept with her, rubbing her belly, allowing himself to feel genuinely happy for a long fucking time.

All of that is soured and dampened by the cruel reality. Solana is not there. Dulce is not there.

She's not with him. They're not with him, because of them.

And then the rages builds up all over again.

It's a vicious, cruel cycle. One that he can't escape. One that leads him to the place he wasn't expecting or planning to visit anytime soon.

Too difficult.

But, necessary.

"Not gonna lie…." Lita trails off, shifting in her seat. It's one of the few times he's noticed she's not almost casually lounged, legs tucked under her. She's sitting with both feet planted on the ground, a small frown on her face. "Believing you to be dead only for you to show up with quite the return….and now having you in front of me, I'm not quite sure where to start except to tell you that I'm so sorry about Solan—"

"She's not dead."

Silence.

Lita, for all her expertise and experience, can't hide her shocked expression. "What?"

Roman looks away. Just as he battled with whether or not to tell Jimmy the truth about Solana, he experienced the same battle regarding just how honest he wanted to be with Lita.

That's not to say he doesn't have a host of other issues he could probably, definitely, benefit from talking and working through with her.

Like the two panic attacks he's had since returning home.

Or, the several nightmares that have awoken him from the little sleep he has received. The nightmares that started when he was in the hospital in Mexico. The reason Solana refused to go home and leave him alone, staying and sleeping with him. Comforting him.

She's his comfort, and not having her has him six different shades of fucked up. On top of the pre-existing level of fucked up-ness he is on any given day.

If there was any doubt in his mind before just how codependent Roman is with his wife, this whole experience has successfully zapped it all away.

Still, that doesn't take away from the fact that Solana isn't here, and he's not okay, so he needs to find a way to get his shit together.

And, the woman before him is his best bet.

It didn't take much research and digging to realize Lita had no connection or involvement with the coup, thus eliminating her from the hit list. But, there's still this overwhelming importance of only keeping Solana's true status a secret from anyone who doesn't need to know.

And, while Roman wouldn't consider Lita someone who needs to know the truth, it would help him a hell of a lot considering the whole reason he's sitting before her.

Plus….while Roman isn't sure just what trust means to him anymore, he trusts that if she didn't know before, the bodies dumped in the streets, should be all the reminder of what happens to anyone who crosses Roman fucking Reigns.

"She's….she's in hiding. Safe." He clarifies, not willing to offer much more than that. "I'm not bringing her back home until I'm sure it's safe to do so."

"I see…." Lita trails off once more, slipping into her usual sitting position, legs tucked under her. For some reason, it makes Roman feel slightly more relaxed. "It all makes sense, then."

He eyes her. Skeptical. Cautious. "What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "Roman, I don't….I don't fully understand how all the crime shit works, but I know and have heard enough to know that you were betrayed, Solana was kidnapped, and my guess would be that they tried to kill you both." He says and offers neither agreement or disagreement. "I can understand why you're so angry and why you've been on a murder spree, making the town look like something out of a horror movie, but it's….it's deeper than that." She tilts her head, assessing in a low voice. "It's even more personal, because she's not here….you don't have her with you, and that's….difficult, I'd gather."

He looks away once more, fist forming at his side. Roman's voice is also low and quiet, as he admits aloud for the first time, "I'm not….I'm not used to it." He swallows, pushing back the pride, knowing he needs to talk about this. To unload at least one thing on his plate. "I'm not used to….to being without her."

He doesn't really know how to function properly and normally without her. Just knows how to channel all of that frustration in his killing and torturing.

"I'm sure," Lita murmurs.

"I—" He struggles, the word a tremendous weight that weighs him down to the point of needing release. "I miss her."

Lita presses her lips together, voice sympathetic. "Are you….are you able to spe—"

"No," he interrupts, voice gruff. "We're no contact to ensure her location can't be tracked."

"I see." She's quiet for a few minutes, eventually and gingerly approaching all of the other shit Roman now has added to his collection of baggage. "I've also heard that….that you were betrayed from the inside. That it was….some of your family members."

"They were never my fucking family," he growls. Roman has shifted from that place of vulnerability to that stainless steel wall of defense. "And don't fucking call them that."

"My apologies." She nods, recognizing that the extent of his regression might be more than she realized. Understandable though. Completely understandable. "Can I ask you something?"

His hesitation is noticeable. "What?"

"With Solana gone for the time being, who do you have?"

It's a delayed response. The question requires contemplation.

"My cousins, Dwayne and Ava," he finally answers, and for the first time, in a long time, Roman allows himself to be honest about the very thing he's avoided for years. Tried to pretend wasn't a thing. But, it is. And, it's been more than proven in the past few weeks. "And Matteo….my brother."

This time, Lita expertly shields her surprise at yet another shocking confession. "Your brother?" He says nothing. Expected. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a sibling still living."

Tense and partially uncomfortable, Roman nods. "It's….complicated."

"I bet," she murmurs. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?"

No. He doesn't want to talk about anything. What Roman wants to do is be with his pregnant wife. He wants to not have to deal with any of this shit. Wishes it never fucking happened in the first place, but it did, and now he's here trying to use a dollar store mop for a rainfall of issues.

But….

But, in this midst of this storm of epic proportions, there have been some glimpses of….something.

Like the fact that Roman can't and won't continue to deny something he's spent his whole life avoiding. Trying to avoid.

That he has a brother.

That despite all off the bitter feelings of resentment and jealousy toward the man that got the same short end of the stick that he did, Matteo has more than proven himself to be someone Roman can….can trust.

Such a difficult, virtually impossible thing considering what happened, the depth of the betrayal, but the truth of the matter is that Matteo and so many others showed up when Roman needed help the most.

Needed his brother.

It's why he's decided to stop denying the truth and maybe, just maybe, himself.

Roman shifts in his seat. "I've…I've realized that….I should…probably try to form some kind of relationship with him." Because, it's time. "It's what Solana thinks I should do, and….one of my aunt's dying wish that I….make things right with him."

"Sure." A pause. "But, what about you, Roman? What do you want?"

A lot of things. The biggest thing? His wife back home with him, so he could have her by his side as he works through all this shit. But, that's not an option. It's not an option, and he has to learn how to be without her for the time being.

Has to learn how to navigate the waters closest to him.

No matter how much he hates it.

"I—I—" He also hates this fucking stuttering and stammering. It's so unlike him. "I don't know how….how to go about that."

An almost embarrassing admission but a truth, nonetheless. Solana is good with these sorts of things. Not him.

Lita keeps a contained smile. Regression has certainly occurred but not, perhaps, as much as she initially believed. There's something there she intends to grab and hone in on as much as she can while still acknowledging his already complex treatment plan just got significantly more complicated.

"Well….." She starts, standing up and walking over to grab the infamous box of Giant Uno off her bookshelf. "Murder and mayhem, I don't know, but that…." Trailing off, she takes a seat, offering another small, patient smile. One step at a time. "—That I can certainly help you with."

----------

"Ya know," Ava starts, lifting her beer from her mouth after taking and swallowing a decent ass amount. "I'm a little offended none of you fuckers have invited me along for the kill tour."

Dwayne chuckles, the beer in his hand looking significantly smaller than it actually is due to his big ass overall size. "Didn't realize that was your thing, cuz."

"Psshhh." She makes a sound, leaning back in the chair, lifting her middle finger to the sky. "They came after our family. Of course, I want my pound of flesh."

Matteo's smile is small as he traces the mouth of his bottle. "Well, there still remains a few outliers we haven't caught."

Being reminded of that makes Roman scowl as he tightly squeezes the bottle in his hand.

Despite his shutting down the city, a few bitches were perhaps smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when they realized Solo was also dead. When they realized that while Roman had been "eliminated," not having the protection of the men who led the charge meant their fates were left up in the air.

So, they ran.

Not that it's made a difference. Roman has accompanied Dwayne on various trips to other states where the Bloodline has locations, where tips from traitors who were dumb enough to stick around and ended up singing like canaries from a little bit of torture. Or, if Roman doesn't accompany Dwayne for said trips, Matteo does.

They're smart enough to know it's not wise for all three to leave the city at once. Not when they're working to restore order and balance.

A process that's…..going, which is good, but it's still going, which is the problem.

It's been two weeks, and they're still not there. At that point where Roman can bring his wife home, and that….that's been rough, to say the least.

It helps to have the people around him, but even them combined together don't equate even half of the comfort and relief his wife provides him.

"Good," Ava replies, smiling craftily. "Save some for me, then." She then gasps, looking around the room. "Has big ears told you what we came up with for you know what?"

At that, Roman rolls his eyes, but he can't ignore the skip and leap of hope that dances within at the shift in topic and conversation.

"Hopefully, you did most of the thinking, cause Lord knows this man ain't got a romantic bone in his body," Dwayne scoffs, gesturing to Roman who only scowls in response.

"I'd argue there's maybe one there." Matteo shrugs. "Or, half of one."

Ava snorts. "More like a quarter." Roman flips her off, something she entirely ignores. "Anyway, so here's what we came up with…."

As Ava moves into specifics, excitement painting her face and accompanying her hand gestures as she almost illustrates what they, what Roman primarily, intends to do for his wife upon her return. A plan months in the making, marked and interrupted by several setbacks but something he's ultimately decided to follow through with.

Roman tunes them out to a certain extent, focused less on the conversation at hand and more the people.

In under a year, his life has taken such a turn. Many unexpected turns. He's gained and lost, lost and gained, gained some more, lost some more, and started all over. Overwhelming in a lot of regards, especially considering the latest chapter has easily been the most traumatic.

But, there's also something else he can't deny. Something he's been working on in therapy with Lita, that he'd love to be able to talk with Solana about, but something he can't really deny, nonetheless. Even if he wanted to.

He's gained such a loyal, strong inner circle. People who, if he continues upon the path of honesty, have always been there for him. It's just been him, Roman, who's kept that wall up.

The wall that, according to Lita, kept the "bad" people out but also kept the "good" people from getting in.

She wasn't wrong.

Roman has spent so many years pushing people away, only letting a select few close to him, and while a few of those select few have caused him an insurmountable of pain, hurt and trauma, there still remains the fact that he still has people he can trust.

He still has family.

Even more, Solana's several statements regarding as such return to the forefront of his mind.

"The girls deserve to have a big family who love and support them, Ro."

Solana was also right.

His family might look slightly different now, but they're still family.

"I—" He cuts in, interrupting the conversation among the three regarding that. Equally important but not as germane as what he wants to say. Needs to say, really. "I want to thank all of you."

"Hell hath fucking frozen over." Ava scoffs. "Did you just…..thank someone?" She smirks, crossing her arms, head tilted. "I didn't think you were capable of that shit. Not unless it's Solana."

Roman scowls, but he doesn't disagree. "Are you done?" She rolls her eyes and lifts her hands in a defensive manner, signifying her silence. Roman shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the three sets of eyes on him. "I know I….I'm not the fucking best with this shit, but I….I do appreciate the three of you. What you've done…..for me." He primarily looks between Dwayne and Matteo. "Especially you two….you saved my life." He swallowed. "I don't….I don't take that lightly."

"You better fucking not," Dwayne shakes his head, sipping some of his beer. "I don't risk my life for just anyone."

"And, you're not just anyone, Roman," Matteo adds, his tone more on the serious side. Sincere. "You're family."

"We're family," Ava corrects, looking among the men. "A dysfunctional ass family of killers and shit ton of trauma but family nonetheless."

Roman chuckles. "Yeah…." He clears his throat, carefully trying to balance vulnerability with some element of business. "Matteo…." His brother looks his way, eyebrow raised. "You said you trust Vinci, right?"

Vinci. The man who assisted Matteo in making his way back to Italy without the Administration finding out, allowing him the element of surprise needed to carry out his hits. A man who, according to Matteo, has worked hard for and with him for over a decade.

He offers no hesitation, just a nod of confirmation. "With my life." Skepticism is raised. "Why?"

A bit of a delayed response, because that damn trust thing. Roman isn't sure how he's supposed to trust anyone outside of the group of people who helped him ever again, and while this Vinci fucker isn't anyone he knows, Matteo does. Matteo is vouching for him, so that has to be enough.

For now.

"We'll need someone we know we can trust to handle business over there." At that, he and Dwayne share questioning expressions. "Because I need you two stateside with me."

Matteo is the first to respond, that skepticism still looming. "Yeah?"

Roman rolls his neck, explaining. "I….I need people around me I know I can trust." A survey of the gatherers. "And outside of Solana, I don't know anyone I trust more than the people in this room."

Ava sits forward, seeing her cousin's gaze on her. "Wait…." She lowers her beer, small smile growing on her face. "You're inviting me into your inner circle?"

Roman nods. "You may be a pain in the fucking ass majority of the time, but you're smart. Loyal. I know I can trust you, and I know you'd be a valuable asset."

"Hell yeah, I would." She agrees. "Some estrogen to tamper down all that testosterone would probably do you all some good."

Roman doesn't entirely disagree. He just continues to share the tentative plans he's been mentally mulling over since returning home. "I'm also….I'm considering including Escobar."

"Escobar?" Dwayne's look of skepticism sure. "Brotha, you sure you didn't hit that big ass head of yours at some point?" A sarcastic question, of course, but there's also a hint of truth. "You hate Escobar."

"Dumbo hates everyone. What else is new?"

Roman ignores Ava. Her being on his council will be….an adjustment, for sure. "I did, or I do, but….I can't deny what he did, and Lopez wants him to be the liaison between us and the Cartel, so it only makes sense to include him. In some things. Not all."

"Isn't he technically your in-law as well?"

"Don't remind me," Roman mutters, trying to wipe his brother's valid but irritating reminder from his mind.

"I hate to break it to you, Roman, but it seems Solana's maternal side of the family is….large." Matteo's comment doesn't help, but it's not meant to. Meant to remind The Tribal Chief that his future is most likely filled with forced interactions with….people. "It might benefit you to get used to….large family functions."

"Make sure that Stephanie girl is there."

Matteo frowns. "Did she not tell you, not so eloquently, might I add, to fuck off?"

"Sure did." Dwayne answers. Proudly, almost. "I'll wear her down."

"Oh my God." Ava rolls her eyes, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "I need another beer."

"I'll join you," Dwayne announces.

"Please don't," she objects. Not that it makes a difference as he says something about warming up a slice of pizza.

Their departure leaves Roman and Matteo alone. A blanket of silence befalls them. One that has Roman moving around in his seat, eager to down the rest of his beer. In the madness and chaos that's thrived and consumed his life in the wake of fixing everything, this evening of just….calm, of normalcy, is appreciated.

Needed, even.

"So…." Matteo starts, placing his beer down on the coffee table. "Your inner circle…"

The younger man nods, stroking his beard. "Well, there are openings now."

While Roman is dead serious, Matteo laughs quietly, shaking his head. "I bet there are."

For the Elder council as well, but that's also being taken care of. Another task Roman is overseeing with the help of his cousin and the man before him.

"Thank you, Roman." Matteo's voice has shifted to a serious, solemn tone. "I don't take the honor lightly. Especially after what's happened…."

Roman says nothing initially. Just nods as something unfamiliar and indescribable fills him. Emotion, maybe? Some form of it, perhaps. He just knows it's partially settled by the conversation he had with Lita about this.

One step at a time.

"You've earned it." Is the response he settles on. The latter portion of his response a bit difficult for him to share but a truth, nonetheless. "Besides, it might be kind of hard for us to work on this….brother shit, if you're on the other side of the world."

While it's not the first time Roman has referred to Matteo as his brother, it's certainly the first time he's verbalized it in an accepting manner.

Especially in front of Matteo whose small smile can only be described as one of relief.

And joy.

Happiness.

"I suppose you're right, fratello," he hums. "I suppose you're right…"

Fratello

Brother.

And for the first time, Matteo's use of the word doesn't anger Roman. Doesn't pick at a long-term, never healing, always open, fresh would.

It feels relieving.

Healing.

---------

Despite an evening of relaxation and camaraderie, the next day brings about more work. More shit to work through.

"So…." Matteo starts as the two walk into Bloodline Headquarters, Dwayne planning to meet them later in the day, tasked with carrying out a side quest for Roman. "Who are we killing today, fratellino?"

Little brother.

Again, no irritation. No vexation. Just….the calm.

"Depends on who pisses me the fuck off," Roman mutters, and the two brothers share a small laugh and chuckle that's almost instantly washed away from both the minute they walk into Roman's office to see someone already waiting, sitting in Roman's seat.

Roman's fist forms at his side. Alicia's days are fucking numbered.

"You got a minute to tell me who the fuck you are, and maybe I won't blow your brains out just yet."

The man smiles. Older. Very old. His face reveals that he's seen decades of this world past him by, his eyes filled with countless stories of mischief and mayhem. A smirk on his face accompanies him standing, revealing a height rivaling Roman and Matteo's. He comes to stand in front of Roman's desk, leaning back with his arms crossed over his slim build.

"Well, I'll be damned." His voice is thickly accented. Familiar. Italian. "Can't say I ever saw this shit coming."

Roman is ready to kill the old man and be done with it, but Matteo grabbing his arms stops him from adding to his never-ending kill count. Roman looks over to see Matteo's head turned slightly, studying, observing, but something else. Something unfamiliar. Alarmed. He looks alarmed.

Roman frowns. "What?"

But, Matteo says nothing. Not to his brother, at least.

"Nonno?"

And, at that, Roman's gaze shifts back and forth, quickly, between the two men.

His chest tightens, asking again, but for a completely different reason. "What?"

Gaze on the old man, Roman sees how he simply raises his chin, offering a nonverbal response. And confirmation.

Only then does Roman see it. The slight but now visible similarities between not only Matteo and this man, but himself and the man.

In all of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Matteo speaks in Italian, his voice even, the former shock and confusion easing into a coldness that Roman often feels and see in himself.

"Well." The older man makes a sound, rolling his shoulders, face turned up in a brief grimace. "Given all that's happened the past few weeks, we realized it was time—"

"We?" Roman cuts in. It's the first thing he's said to the man he now recognizes the same way Matteo does.

His nonno.

Their grandfather.

This is their maternal grandfather.

"Hi, boys..."

Another voice speaks, but this time, this time there is no word to describe just what courses through either of the brothers as they turn around in almost perfect synchronization. Initially guarded and partially alarmed, that's punted away the minute their sight confirms what the auditory already knew.

Roman doesn't get disturbed often. If ever. It's not in his character. Matteo's neither.

But, it's a miracle that neither man stumbles back at the sight before them.

She stands in the doorway, an expensive, beautiful, intricately designed scarf over her head, tied under her chin. A wrap that slender fingers with disfigured looking skin slowly moves to undo, allowing it to crumple in her hands. She swallows, the lines on her face prominent as she frowns, her familiar light brown eyes bouncing between the two stunned men.

The weight on Roman's chest has grown to an unbearable amount, so much so that it prevents him from speaking. From thinking. From breathing, it feels like.

No, Matteo is the one that finds the wherewithal to speak the word Roman can't find in him to verbalize.

"Mom?"

------

welp. do ya'll agree with roman's decisions regarding jey and jimmy?

also, yes.....matteo and roman's mother is still alive.

reminder: next chapter is the last one.

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters Were Given Three Wishes From a Genie...

As requested by anon. :)

[A few of the jokes in this are WAT spoilers! They are marked in the entry title in case you need to skip 'em]

Cosmere characters have just rubbed a magic lamp and now they're being offered three wishes by a genie! How will that go for them?

1. Steris

Genie: There are three rules! Genie: I cannot kill anyone, I cannot bring anyone back to life, and I cannot make anyone fall in love. Steris: (Taking notes) Can I wish for more wishes? Genie: No. Steris: Can I wish for someone else to have more wishes? Genie: Also no. Steris: Can I cancel a wish in the future if I no longer want it? Genie: ...no. Steris: Can I modify a wish after wishing it? Genie: ...no. Steris: I see. Steris: My first wish, then, is to help you create an actual Wish Rule Handbook because that, I'm afraid, is a lot more than three rules. Steris: Let's get drafting! Genie: Why am I afraid

2. Kelsier

Kelsier: Three wishes? Amazing! Kelsier: First, I'd like to finally obtain the exact physical body I've been dreaming of all these years! Kelsier: Second, I'd like Scadrial to be utterly protected from the nefarious designs of Odium or any other hostile Shard. Kelsier: And third, I'd like Hoid to stub his toe every day for the rest of his life. Kelsier: Phew! That was way easier than what I've been doing! Kelsier: I can't believe I wasted hundreds of years on machinations, ha ha! Genie: ... Kelsier: What?

3. Szeth [Mild WAT spoilers!]

Szeth: (suspiciously) Wishes? Szeth: As in, things that I personally want? Szeth: What is this, some kind of therapy? Szeth: Away with you! Genie: H-Hey, if you want to wish for some therapy, it sounds like that might be kind of helpful for you? Szeth: Away, I say! Genie: Well, I tried.

4. Taravangian

Taravangian: [slams a 400-page tome down on the table] Taravangian: This is my first wish--it includes caveats for every possible loophole, bad faith interpretation, and/or unintended consequence. Taravangian: I declare that this whole book constitutes the sum total of Wish #1. Genie: ...Which is? Taravangian: I'd like Hoid to stub his toe every day for as long as he lives. Genie: ... Genie: That wish required 400 pages?! Taravangian: I like to be thorough.

5. Vin

Vin: I would like to always have the exact metal or metals I desire in my flask as soon as I desire them. Vin: I'd also like Elend to feel a surge of reassurance that yes of course I love him whenever he feels doubt. Genie: Two very fine wishes. What is your third? Vin: Hmmm.... Vin: Honestly, I just keep thinking that I'd like to be faster than a horse. Genie: ...Like, horses in general or one specific horse? Vin: Just...horses in general. Genie: ...It's not the weirdest wish I've heard today.

6. Adolin [WAT SPOILERS!]

Adolin: Oooh, I've always wanted the ability to point at an outfit in a fashion magazine and instantly have that outfit in my perfect size. Genie: Granted! Adolin: I'd also like Shallan to be brought here safely to Azimir if that's what she wants--like, please ask her first just in case. Genie: Granted! Adolin: ... Adolin: I would also like everyone to think I gave those wishes in the reverse order. Genie: Granted! Adolin: Wait, does that count as a wish?? Adolin: ... Adolin: No, actually I'm okay with that.

7. Azure

Azure: I would like to know where Nightblood is, please. Azure: I've been looking for so long! It's IMPOSSIBLE to find! Genie: [silently hands her a map] Azure: ... Azure: IT'S BEEN ON ROSHAR THE WHOLE TIME?!

8. Lightsong

Lightsong: You grant three wishes, huh? Lightsong: I can only grant one wish. And I have to die to do it. Genie: That's a tough break. Lightsong: Well, to be fair I live a life of luxury and worship, rather than being trapped in a tiny lamp. Genie: I appreciate that. Many people treat my abilities as frivolous, wishing for things they could obtain for themselves if they tried or for things they should never truly have. Genie: It is a genuine relief to meet someone who understands the true import of wishes. Lightsong: ... Lightsong: I was gonna wish for you to hand me that glass so I don't have to get up, but now it feels awkward. Genie: ... Lightsong: I'm just really comfortable right now.

9. Kaladin

Kaladin: [muttering to himself] Can't wish for all of my friends to be safe. They'd probably be magically locked in a room forever or something. Kaladin: I could wish for Oroden to grow up happy, but what if that means he dies if he gets sad or something? Or like loses the ability to feel things? Kaladin: I could wish for Moash to go back to how he was, but how could I take away his ability to make choices? Kaladin: It's too much! I don't want any wishes! Genie: Uh....granted? Kaladin: Did that count as a wish???

10. Venli

Venli: I wish for your freedom. Genie: ... Genie: As your first wish? Venli: Yup. Genie: Not as, like, your third wish after you obtain two other wishes? Venli: Nah. Genie: W-Who are you?? Venli: I'm a Willshaper, baby. Tumi: [hums contentedly]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: love u guys.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The night creeps by in ripples of moonlight and anxiety. You drift in and out of sleep, flinching at ever rustle of the tree outside, every creak in the house. You expect him to knock on your door. To open it. That’s why the dresser’s in front of it. 

Paranoid. You think so. But no, not really. Overreacting but not without reason. 

You’re so twisted up about the intruder in your house, in your family, that you barely think of your mom’s big news. A date? Technically your first real date. That movie night with that boy in high school was a celibate, silent penance. 

You hear your mom get ready for work. She said after, you’ll go out. You’re looking forward to it even if you don’t care much about the reason. Any chance to get away, you’ll take. 

The front door shuts and her car chirps as it unlocks. You listen in dread. You’re awake now. It’s four in the morning and you’re not going back to the sleep. You can’t. 

You wallow in the lull that overtakes the house. Your eyelids are heavy, your head full, but even your fatigue can’t override your fear. You can hear your breaths as they fill your chest to bursting and you force them out in slow draws. 

Then it begins. A low groan. At first, you think it’s nothing but the wind outside. Then it rises. Grunting peaking at the end of every prolonged sigh. Then your name. 

Bucky’s voice swirls down the hall as you can only imagine what he’s doing. To himself. 

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s... exactly... how I like it...” His voice gets clearer as his footfalls slap over the floor. You hold your breath and wrap the blanket around you, up to your chin.

“That’s how I want you--” He stomps up to your door and slaps his hand against the outside. “Be a good girl, open the door...” 

His harried huffs bluster just outside. He moans as the door shakes with his unseen efforts. But you hear it all. 

“I just need a little—help--” he snarls. “Oh, just... if you smile at me, I think--” he grunts and thumps on the door. The handle jolts and jiggles. The door hits the dresser but does not open. You squeal. “Ah, you got me, baby—girl—you---” 

His voice fizzles out and his palms drags buck up the door. The friction is like a jet engine in the stillness of the house. You whimper and tuck your head under the blanket. 

“You gone an made another mess, why don’t you come out and help clean it up?” He growls. 

You don’t move. You can’t breathe. Your tears trickle out and roll over your nose and round your temple. They plummet onto the blanket as you recede into yourself. 

Will you make it until your mom gets home? 

☀️

You relent to the day and sit up. You need to use the bathroom but you’re too afraid to go out. Bucky is bold in making his presence known. You hear him making his coffee, whistling in the hall, blaring the television. 

You hole up until noon, fractured by the rude awakening and the building pressure in your pelvis. You have to go so bad but moving the dresser would give you away. You stare at the window, wondering if you could sneak down the tree. Going on the lawn is a sane option in this insane situation. 

Your phone lights up and draws your attention. It’s your mom. You answer. You cough before you find your voice. 

“Mom?” You sputter. 

“Hey, sweetie,” she chimes. “You sound tired. You're not still sleeping, are you?” 

“No, I’m just... sorting out my room,” you lie. 

“Ah, okay, well, I have some bad news,” she sniffs. “They need me to stay tonight. We have clinical students coming this evening and it’s my job to oversee all training.” 

You hesitate. You nearly forgot about the date, let alone her proposed shopping trip. You really don’t need a new outfit. 

“Um, alright, well... I’m sure I have something--” 

“Oh, but sweetie, you should get something new,” she insists, “I talked to Bucky a few minutes ago. He said he’ll be happy to take you.” 

“Bucky?” You echo. 

“Oh, sure. It'll be good for you two to bond a bit more.” She trills. “He says you’ve been hiding all day. I don’t like that, sweetie.” 

“But-- tomorrow we could--” 

“The date’s tomorrow and I just don’t know if this will happen again,” she interrupts. “I’m so sorry but I’m so busy. I have to go. Bucky said he’ll take you. I can’t wait to see what you choose.” 

“Mom--” 

“Love you,” she talks over you and hangs up. 

You stare at the phone. Oh no. You should’ve at least tried to tell her. It’s your fault. If you said something, she would listen. But you didn’t and now it feels too late. 

A knock jolts the door. You hold back a yelp and look at the wood. You quiver and put your phone down. 

“Hey, Baby Girl, did your mom call?” He taps his fingers on the door. 

You get up and drag your feet across the room, “uh, yeah, she said we’ll go tomorrow.” 

He chuckles, “that’s not what she said to me.” 

“I... I’m not feeling well,” you argue. 

“Of course you don’t. You’ve been holed up inside all day. It’s nice out,” he turns the handle and pushes the door into the dresser. “Hey, baby girl, what’s going on? Something's wrong with your door.” 

You gulp and put your hands on the dresser. 

“I’m not ready.” 

“Well, I can wait,” he intones. “I have been, haven’t I?” 

You shiver. You know exactly what he means. 

“I’ll...I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

“Oh, sure, you probably need a coffee. How about I make you one? Be good for you, huh?” He shakes the door handle. “You know, I can be good, if I get a treat.” 

You brace the edge of the dresser. Your eyes round at the door. You close your dry mouth. You take a breath and peel your lips apart. 

“Fine,” you agree. 

“Alright, I’ll be waiting. Patiently,” he lets go of the handle. “Just don’t let the coffee get cold or I’ll have to come find you.” 

You don’t move until you hear him on the stairs. You slowly drag away the dresser and turn it to get into the drawers. You pull out a pair of jeans and a loose tee with Tweety Bird on it. It’s completely plain. 

You inch open the door and peer out. You watch for him or his shadow. You step out and your foot meets something sticky. You look at the floor and the splatter there; stringy with a few droplets. That’s not... 

You cringe and tiptoe down to the bathroom. You wipe off your foot with a wet wad of tissue. You use the toilet next, a painful clench before the release. Then you do your best to clean up. You grab a cloth and run it under the tap. You clean up the mess in front of your door. 

You bury the cloth down in the bathroom bin. As you come back out, you press yourself to the wall and shuffle to your room. You find a pair of sunglasses to hide behind.  

You go to the top of the stairs and peer down. As if sensing you, Bucky appears at the base. You flinch. He has a mug in his hands. It’s not a coincidence, he’s been listening. 

You descend, step by step. His eyes crawl up your body. His gaze makes you feel naked. How can he do that? The tee shirt is so baggy, you can barely tell there’s a body under it. 

“Here ya go,” he hands you the travel mug; porcelain with a silicone top. “Just for my baby girl.” 

You accept it and look past him. You say thanks but can’t hear your own voice. He touches your cheek and you wince. 

“Are we gonna find you something cute? Something sexy?” He purrs as he pets your chin. 

You shy away and try to step past him. He blocks you with his arm. He grips your chin more firmly and brings your head up. Your eyes flick to his. 

“You might be wearing it for that boy, but you’ll be taking it off for me,” he snarls. “Make mommy happy first, but you don’t wanna piss me off.” 

His grip makes you tremble. You whine and bat your lashes. He eases up and snickers as he strokes your cheek and rescinds his hand. 

“Baby girl, I just wanna treat you right,” he eases from his momentary lapse. That stone in his voice sticks in your skill. “You know he can’t do that. Not like I can.” 

You cradle the cup and stare at him. Your insides are on fire. You pout and his eyes fixate on your lip. His tongue pokes out. 

“Why...” you eke out. 

He grins. “Why not, baby girl? You deserve it. To be taken care of. You’re so wound up,” he drawls. “I can tell you need it.” 

“My mom--” 

He hisses and shushes you with a finger to your lips. He taps meanly and drops his hand. 

“Don’t,” he warns. “You say a word to her, if she believe you, you don’t want to see what happens.” He takes a breath. “And can you imagine how hurt she’d be? Everything was perfect til you got home.” 

You search his face. Your lashes flutter. He’s right. It wouldn’t look like his fault, would it? Especially after yesterday. 

“Can we go?” You croak. 

“I guess we should,” he sighs. “Even if I’d rather stay... get to know you, baby girl.” He slowly moves out of your way. You step down and he turns, brush your ass with his hand. “Think we’ll find something real nice... something to show this off.” 

☀️

As Bucky drives past the mall, your heart stutters. Where is he going? Your mom would only ever take you to Old Navy or some department store. 

What if he isn't taking you shopping? Why didn't you think of that before? Why are you going along with this? 

You latch onto your thighs with your sweaty hands and push back into the seat. He reaches over and you lean away. He taps the touchscreen to skip the song. 

"Not my favourite," he comments. 

You swallow dryly. You look at him. He doesn't seem to notice the shift. Or he doesn't let on. 

The grey hairs catch the light, the lines in his face add definition to his already sharp feature, and his blue eyes absorb all brightness. You face forward and your jaw locks. He wouldn't do anything. Your mom knows you're with him. 

"Got a friend, she recommended the place," he interrupts your panic. "If you're looking for something special... well, you don't wanna go to the mall." 

You sniff and nod. "Sure," you agree hoarsely. 

He clucks and drives on. Your eyes drift to his hands, thick knuckles, thick fingers. Strong hands. Strong enough to choke. 

He turns onto a street in the centre of town. You watch the storefronts, calmed by the number of witnesses, but not completely. He slides into a paralell spot and taps the button to quiet the engine. 

He gets out first. You follow reluctantly. 

He leads you to a store and opens the door ahead of you. You enter and look around at the expertly dressed mannequins. A feather red dress has you intimidated but the simple blue dress across from it isn't too bad. 

A shop associate approaches, "hello, how are you doing today? Anything you're looking for?" 

"Ummmm." You chew your lip as Bucky catches up to you. 

"Special day," he speaks for you as his hand settles on your lower back, "anniversary. I'm taking her out on the town." 

The woman looks between you. You choke in embarrassment as you read her name tag; Darcy. 

"Oh, wow, how long?" Her voice is crisp. 

"How long... two years now. I know, a bit much but you gotta celebrate the little things," he responds coolly. You almost believe him. "I'm not really a fashion guy, but you sell panties? Gotta plan for the whole night." 

Her brow twitches and her dimples deepen, "yes.... there's an intimate section near the back. Hun," she looks at you, "do you want to surprise him? I can show you around." 

"I think we can figure it out," Bucky insists with a bristle. "I know what looks best on her." 

She blinks and pushes her tongue into her cheek. You avert your gaze as you swelter. Bucky curls his hand around your hip. 

"Uh huh, well you just let me know if you need anything," she chirps sharply. 

"Alright, hun," Bucky hurls the epithet back at her before he guides you away. He scoffs as he takes you past a table of denim. "Cunt," he utters under his breath and reaches for a hanger with his other hand, "now, just remember," he pulls a red dress free, "you keep those legs together with that little punk." He holds the dress in front of you. "And I'll get them nice and loose when you get home." 

[ticifics]

𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

── james potter x f!reader

warnings: smut/mdni, choking kink, no use of y/n, est. relationship, smut with very little (almost nothing) plot, language, unprotected piv, splash of degradation. based on this request

Spending the night at the Potters’ house wasn’t your intention. You had decided to visit James, and before you knew it, the hours flew by. It wasn’t your fault, not when Euphemia convinced you to stay for tea, and it was fun to hear her talk about her son’s childhood—of course, there was the awkward moment with the family album.

When she realized it was late, she made sure to invite you to spend the night. “I’ll be more relaxed this way,” was what she said, a sweet smile on her lips. It was hard—no, it was impossible to deny that woman anything.

She quickly arranged the guest room, making sure you were completely comfortable. To be honest, Euphemia was absolutely maternal with you, treating you like a daughter. She seemed genuinely pleased with your relationship with James.

And that was why you were determined to remain well-behaved that night. Sleeping harmlessly between the soft sheets.

But James wasn’t about to help you with that.

You had already retreated to your room a few minutes ago when you saw the door open. With your eyes narrowed due to the darkness, you watched him enter the room with silent steps. “James?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, a smile curving the corners of his mouth as his hand rested on the curve of your hip, his thumb tracing lazy semicircles. Even covered, you could feel the warmth of his touch. “Hi,” he said, calm, at ease.

Your eyes narrowed even more. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” he replied, his voice soft.

“James, it hasn’t even been half an hour since we last saw each other.”

He sighed loudly, “every minute away from you feels like an eternity. You know that.” You pressed your lips together so he wouldn’t see your smile. He soon spoke again: “How could I sleep knowing you’re here? It wouldn’t be possible.”

“James—”

“No,” he didn’t let you finish, placing a finger over your lips. “Don’t be mean to me. How could I live knowing that I left you sleeping alone? It doesn’t feel right.”

His eyes trailed down your body, so slowly that he seemed to record the image. His fingers slid down your side, feather-light, sending shivers down your spine. “Please,” he looked back at you, “let me stay.”

You sighed, knowing that this was a losing battle. “Okay,” his eyes sparkled with ecstasy, and you had barely finished speaking when he took off his glasses and folded them on the small table next to the bedside, crawling in next to you on the bed.

The mattress wasn’t exactly spacious, but you suspected that James would prefer to be pressed against your body even if it was a giant bed. He lay down behind you, pulling you until your back was against his broad chest. “Thank you,” he whispered against your hair.

“Goodnight, James,” you replied, snuggling against his warmth, the way your bodies fit perfectly together.

His arms wrapped around you, ghostly fingers playing with the hem of the loose blouse you wore. Okay, you were used to this, to all the barely contained energy in him. To the way he always seemed to need to have his hands on you. Touching, appreciating. Loving.

The air caught in your throat as his hand slipped inside your shirt, his warm palm pressed against your stomach. “James,” you tried to warn, but your voice came out as a soft gasp.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice just as low, still exploring the patch of skin with light fingers.

“W-what—what are you doing?”

You felt his smile against the back of your neck. “Keeping you warm,” he replied, his voice no louder than a whisper, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear.

Your eyes closed against your will, struggling to find the right words. “We can’t, your… your… your parents will hear.”

James ignored your weak protests, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pressing your body more firmly against his. “We won’t make a sound,” he promised, his voice dripping with confidence. “No one will hear.”

“But—hmm,” you gasped as his fingers curled around your throat, squeezing just enough that breathing became difficult but not impossible.

“See?” he asked, his voice dripping with false condescension. “Hush. It’s not that hard.”

His fingers continued to squeeze as his other hand slid down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts, the thin fabric offering no resistance as his dipped in, toying with the elastic of your panties. Teasing, testing.

You felt your head spinning as his touch moved lower, toying with the liquid heat that had pooled between your legs. You felt his body tense behind yours.

“I barely touched you and you’re already like this?” His fingers tightened a little more around your throat before finally relaxing. You sucked in air between your teeth, feeling your lungs burn for oxygen.

“Such a needy little thing,” he scoffed, though there was a sweet smile on his face. Carefully, he turned you toward him, framing your face between his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had clung to your lashes. “Cat got your tongue?” he teased, his voice soft and teasing.

You shook your head, not trusting your own voice to answer.

“Then why don’t you answer me, hm?”

“I—I—I…”

“You…?” He prompted, his voice soft, understanding.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you said, “I… I’ll be quiet.”

James smiled. A wide, satisfied smile. Proud. “That’s my girl.”

He caressed your cheeks, pulling you closer until he pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss, enjoying the way your lips were soft, the way your mouths fit together. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between your parted lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth, swallowing the small, aching sighs that bubbled out of your throat.

He could feel his cock throbbing against your belly, hard, aching, begging for release. James rolled his hips against you, letting you feel the thick, heavy length behind his flannel pants, savoring the sensation. Effortlessly, he turned your body until your back sank into the mattress. And without breaking the kiss, he spread your legs, placing himself between them, enjoying the familiar sensation.

Your hands quickly found his shirt, your fingers curling around the supple fabric before pulling it off his body, your fingers exploring the hard planes of his body, feeling the way his muscles bulged and flexed.

His hands gripped the sides of your shorts, slowly beginning to pull them down. Your hips lifted, easing into him, feeling your heart pound furiously in your chest. His eyes followed the movement, drinking in the sight of your legs, only the pale moonlight bathing them.

He breathed, tossing your shorts aside and letting his hands slide down your calves, over your knees, before settling on your thighs. He leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pressed his hips against yours. Rocking against your body slowly, torturously, the friction delicious and maddening at the same time. His hands slid to the hem of your blouse, pushing it up and over your breasts, exposing them to his heated gaze. “I can’t get enough of you, love. I could devour you whole and still want more.”

“Jamie, I—”

He grunted in approval. “I love it when you call me that.”

“I know,” you replied weakly, feeling the discomfort between your legs grow worse. Through the ruined, thin panties, you could feel the way he was hard, pressing insistently against your entrance. “Jamie, I need you.”

His fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, beginning to pull them down between your legs with all the patience in the world, prolonging the moment, making you tremble in anticipation.

“Please, Jamie,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

James shuddered at your words, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants. Slowly, torturously, he pulled your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening, soaked folds to his hungry gaze. He could smell your arousal, could see the way your clit throbbed, just begging for his touch.

He couldn’t deny it.

You watched as James lowered his pants, not bothering to take them off, pulling down his boxers as well, revealing his thick cock. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hips undulating without your permission.

He remained on his knees between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them further apart as he positioned himself at your entrance. Sliding the thick head of his cock along your slit, he could feel you trembling, could hear the desperate moans that were trapped in your throat.

"Shhh, don't make any noise," he reminded you, his voice a low murmur, his fingers curling around your neck. Not squeezing yet, just holding. Forcing your eyes to meet his.

You shook your head, almost eager. Your lips pressed together in a straight line to keep any sound from coming out of them. James admired your effort, and he almost, almost considered pushing you over the edge. What would your reaction be if he made you scream? He locked that idea away in a remote part of his brain, at least for now.

He lined himself up at the entrance, his jaw clenched as your warmth welcomed him so well. He would never tire of this feeling, as if he were finally coming home. Without realizing it, his fingers closed tighter around your neck, making it difficult for you to get air.

As he began to move, his hips rocking slowly, deliberately, he could feel your body trembling beneath him. He could see the desperate, almost painful pleasure etched on your face, feel the way your throat heaved for air.

He could feel your pulse jumping under his touch, racing to match the beat of his own heart. He knew he was being rude, probably too rude, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a low, guttural sound. “You’re so fucking perfect. So tight and wet around my cock.”

You gasped as his fingers released your throat, sucking air between your teeth. “Jamie,” you called out weakly, your voice hoarse, your fingers curling around his, pulling them toward your neck again.

The feel of his fingers, firm and wide around your throat, made you tremble. It made the knot in your stomach tighten. You needed more.

His eyes flashed with recognition.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive purr. His grip tightened around your throat. “Do you want me to hold you down, to make you take every inch of my cock while I squeeze the air from your lungs?”

James began to move faster, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, mixing with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the mattress. He could feel your body giving in to his, could feel your pussy clenching around him, trying to hold him deep inside.

“Fuck, you’re mine,” he growled, his eyes wild and intense as they bored into hers. “All mine, now and forever. Say it. Say you’re mine.”

His fingers eased their pressure around your neck, but they remained there. You struggled to find the words, feeling like you were about to come undone. “I—I’m yours, Jamie. Only—God, only yours.”

As a reward, his fingers reached between your sweaty bodies, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching the way your body arched, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his breath hot against your ear, tightening your throat. “I want to feel you come undone around my cock. Do it, love. Give yourself to me. Now.”

With those words, he pinched your clit hard, rolling the soft flesh between his fingers as he thrust his hips forward one last time, burying himself deep inside your spasming cunt.

It was hard, so hard not to scream as your orgasm swept through your body. Violently, without mercy. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, fighting for air as he finally released you from his steely grip.

He could feel his own release building, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm as your walls milked his pulsing shaft. With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself as deep as he could, hot cum painting your pussy white.

James collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He could feel your heart pounding against his chest, could hear your ragged breathing as you fought to catch your breath. He knew he was crushing you, but he couldn’t pull away.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “God, I fucking love you. You’re mine, now and forever. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[softtdaisy]

congrats again on 2k!!! you deserve it so much <33 ur events so cool too :DD how abouttttt... kaleidoscope by chappell roan + reid maybe :P

summary. you always knew spencer was your best friend, your soulmate. but one day you realized that your feelings might be bigger than that.

words count. 2 232

song. kaleidoscope by chappell roan

a/n. oh robin thank you for being such a sweetheart and a great supporter all the time, ily so much I swear!! and this song is so pretty I wanted to write so many different stories, I hope you will love this one 🫶

PARTICIPATE IN MY 2K CELEBRATION

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Spencer Reid had been your best friend ever since you could remember. 

It was like the life before him didn’t exist. Like your days could only make sense with him in it.

And lucky for you, Spencer loved to remind you he was a part of your life every single day.

You moved into his building, the apartment right in front of his, on a random Tuesday.

“Do you need help?” he finally asked you after holding the corridor’s door open for you for the second time in a row. Spencer noticed that you were the only one running back and forth with boxes. 

You stopped in your movement to consider his offer. And had a little laugh looking at him. “Listen, beautiful, I would love to, but you look like you’re going somewhere.” You replied, pointing to his book bag and his clearly going-out outfit. “But I appreciate your offer. And you can make up for it later.” 

You saw Spencer blush before walking to your apartment to put the box down. If you were convinced he would be gone when you returned, you were kindly surprised to see he was still here holding the door. 

“Can I offer you your first dinner here?” he proposed, this time following you outside. You accepted, with the feeling that it might just be a nice offer and he didn’t really mean it.

But when he came back from the BAU that night, Spencer directly went to your place and landed down with bags from the Chinese restaurant in the street.

That was how your friendship started. With a Chinese dinner on your rug because your sofa hadn’t arrived yet. But a night full of laughs and good talks. You learned about the boy from Vegas working for the FBI. He learned about you, your home, and your family.

It gave you the feeling that you had met your soulmate.

“You’re my favorite person, Spencer Reid,” you told him the night he accepted to sleep at your place. The storm outside caused a blackout in town, and you didn’t feel safe being alone. This was childish, maybe, in a way. And you knew people that would have laughed at you for this. 

But not Spencer. He stayed and spent hours telling you about his favorite subjects. And he didn’t hesitate to accept your offer to let him sleep in your bed with you. Feeling comfortable enough to do it.

The smile he gave to you when he heard you was so precious you wished you could picture it and frame it to keep it forever with you. “I think you’re mine too,” he replied, surprised himself by how true this was.

From all the people he had met and the friends he had made in the team, you ended up being his favorite person. Because everything was easy.

And things stayed easy for a long time. 

You couldn’t actually point out the moment things had changed. Was it so progressive that you couldn’t notice the evolution until it had settled permanently in your life? Or was it so sudden that you couldn’t see it coming and just accepted the consequences? You had no idea. Not then, not now.

All you knew was that one day, Spencer’s hand on your thigh didn’t feel the same. Sure, you still felt the security of his long fingers on your skin, giving you the impression that nothing bad could happen as long as he was here. But it was accompanied by new thoughts, a voice in your head telling you how good it felt to be touched by him. Or how easily his fingers could slip inside your tights. 

Soon his hugs started to last longer. Just like the phone calls he would give you when he was away. Or like the brief moments spent in the corridor, a few minutes stolen in each other’s days when you couldn’t do more than that. Maybe it was your imagination, but you got the feeling that Spencer wanted to stay. Or maybe it was really just your imagination, and you were the only one begging every day for another minute with him.

And some of your moments together became more intimate, something you didn’t notice until after they happened.

The weekly date that started to look like a real date. 

The way Spencer would start to talk about you with others, on the phone or in front of you if you met someone he knew on the street.

Or, the weirdest of them all, how you and Spencer shared a bed more and more occasionally. Everything was a good excuse to stay together. Like you didn’t have a few steps to cross to go back home.

And then, the evening happened. 

After being away for days because of a case, Spencer went directly to your place to make up for the missing time. A habit that grew over the past years and that you both cherished. There was something so precious in the way he didn’t even go to his place, to the place on the other side of the corridor, to put down his bag and jacket. He went to you first.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling when you saw him at your front door. Looking exhausted, sure, but so delighted to be here too. And the way his arms immediately went up to greet you and hug you tightly made you feel so loved. But was it the love you wanted?

“You know I have met like three people with your name this week?” he told you once he let you go. 

Of course this was the type of information Spencer needed to share first and foremost. “I hope I’m still your favorite.”

Spencer turned around to face you, looking amused and falsely confused. “The opposite wasn’t an option.” To add to it, he walked to kiss your forehead. And this felt good. So good.

And the rest of the evening was a glimpse of what a couple was supposed to have. Something you already had, somehow. Without being a thing. You weren’t a thing. 

Eating en tête-à-tête, sharing about your day. Watching a movie on your sofa, with one of Spencer's arms lying around your shoulder. Every now and then, he would caress your skin slowly, almost unconsciously, like it was the most natural thing to do.

Maybe it didn’t help that you ended up watching a romcom.

Or maybe it did, eventually. You weren’t so sure how to feel about it.

You stayed a few seconds looking at Spencer’s face. How his pupils were following the images on the screen. How he was biting his lip, probably without noticing it. How one strand of hair was falling on his forehead, some hair even caressing his eyelashes. How his nose was adding the cutest shadow on his face. 

“I think I love you,” you whispered. 

You watched as his brow furrowed almost in slow motion. And how his head started moving before his eyes. And then his eyes landed on you. “I…I love you too, you know.” This wasn’t a simple thing to say for him. The word love had become a synonym of leave for him.

And so he didn’t tell you much. But you didn’t need to hear it, most of the time. Because you knew he did. Of course Spencer loved you. He proved it to you multiple times in the past already. You weren’t going to contradict him on it. And you didn’t.

You just waited until the weight of your words hit him. And when it did, the surprise grew on his face. “Oh,” he simply said.

Oh.

Oh.

That was all you got from Spencer. No answer. Not even a word. A letter, at best.

He turned his head away and focused on the screen again. His arm and hand stayed on you, but the touch was like a feather now. He stayed silent until the end of the movie. Something unusual for him. But you didn’t question it. 

Too focused on collecting the pieces of your broken heart. 

“I should go.” Spencer said the moment the credits started rolling. But he said it in a low voice, so low that you wondered if he wasn’t talking to himself. Consider the best solution to get out of here, out of this situation. And well, leaving was indeed the best one. And avoiding what happened seemed like a good addition.

One thing that was always permanent between you was the kiss Spencer would leave on your forehead before leaving you. He would never miss it. Even when he left while you were asleep, you could feel it in your dream. And tonight was another proof.

Right when you thought he would go straight to your door, Spencer leaned to put his lips on your forehead. You closed your eyes to appreciate it. Fearing this might be the last time you experienced it. You got the feeling it lasted longer. Maybe this was something else you imagined to interpret it as you wished. Or maybe it was Spencer’s way to say goodbye.

It haunted you the whole night. It was your first thought when you woke up, wondering if last night was the last time. 

And so you were quite surprised to see Spencer in the middle of your living room. Two coffees in hand. Ones that he bought at your favorite place, you recognized the packaging immediately. 

Both because he knew you loved this one particularly, for the taste and the memory of having it with Spencer. He also bought it because he knew he wasn’t great at making coffee perfectly. 

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him… too many things. But you were cut off. “You meant it?” he asked.

You recognized that tone in his voice. The one he used when he talked about things that hadn’t been said about him and he didn’t know how to deal with them. Bad ones, like his dad criticizing him, being interrupted by a mean officer, or different reasons why someone decided to end things with him. But also the nice ones, those he had a hard time believing. 

There was something about the way Spencer had a hard time believing he was someone outside of his own world, someone people had thoughts and opinions on and how to deal with them.

“Do you…do you truly love me? Like, love me?” 

Spencer had been thinking about this all night too. About how this made total sense but was absolute nonsense at the same time. 

You’ve been his anchor. You were there; you’ve always been there. And it was reassuring to him to know that no matter what happened in his life, you would always be next door. 

But he never considered that this might be the logical next step in your relationship.

You took a step towards him. You feared he might run away, but he didn’t move. Not a single movement. “I do. I’m sorry,” you grimaced. “I couldn’t keep it to myself; it wouldn’t have been fair to hide it.”

You kept moving. And Spencer never stopped watching you. When you were close enough to put a hand on his arm, you felt like you entered his bubble. He wasn’t pushing you away. Not yet, at least.

“You don’t have to say it back; you don’t have to feel it back, Spence, ok? I’ll respect your choice and your feelings.” You grabbed your coffee, the one in his right hand, only to put it on the closest piece of furniture. You wanted to hold hishand. To have contact, you both needed to feel each other.

You took a breath, trying to sound more confident than you truly were. Because deep down, you were scared. Scared of losing him. Scared of losing what you had because your heart chose to see him as more than a friend.

“And if you see me just as a friend, I'll accept it.” You whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. A promise. “Because I'd rather have you as my best friend than not have you at all.” 

You could read on his face all the emotions he was going through. Trying to accept, to come to terms with all you said. And what hit him was that you loved him so much that you were ready to put away your feelings, to fight back against them, only to keep him.  And what hit him was that he was ready to do the same for you.

“Ok,” he replied with a short smile. “I think I need some time, but…ok,” and you nodded at his answer.

Your eyes followed him as he went to sit on your sofa with his coffee in hands. And soon, he started to talk about a book he wanted to buy.

And for a second, you just appreciated it. The view of Spencer Reid, in your place, the sun making his hair look brighter, shining on him like the angel he was in your life. No matter your feelings or his, the ending was the same. Spencer was the most important person in your life and the one you loved the most.

Being each other's soulmate could have a lot of different meanings. And as long as Spencer was here, you were happy about it.

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 (if you want to be in it, ask me and I'll be happy to add you x)

[planet-hwa]

୨୧  bad boy facade chapter 5 – 산

chapter 5  a romantic homicide     ୨୧  previous chapter  ◦  series masterlist

pairing     badboy!san x reader  genre     high school au, a little bit of fluff here, a little bit of angst there word count     4.6k -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ warnings     gossiping, slight embarrassment, manipulation?, smut mentioned from last chapter but barely, mentions of drug use, self-harm but not completely intentional (not reader!!) — featuring woosang

❝ you gave me your word, but that didn't matter ❞ 🎧 now playing   traitor ; olivia rodrigo

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You already dreaded walking into school this morning; not only would you have to see Yunho around school and in class, you were still partnered with him for the history project — there was no avoiding him. Funny how the original person you needed to avoid was for Yunho, and now he’s the one needed to be avoided…

Plus, your breakup happened in a very public setting and there were a lot of wandering eyes and ears, so it was expected that people would stare at you once you walked through the main doors.

You didn’t expect this many stares though…

Everyone looked at you like an injured animal, all cautious and concerned for your wellbeing but not brave enough to ask or help. Then came the whispers, the constant sound of quiet voices gossiping filled the hallway as you walked to your locker. You weren’t entirely sure why, nobody knew the true reason for the end of your relationship except Yeosang and Seonghwa, and they wouldn’t tell anyone. You opened your locker quietly, still very conscious of all the glares and murmurs that faced you, grabbing your supplies and attempting to pay no attention to your surroundings — until something got caught in your peripheral vision.

You couldn’t believe what you saw.

Yunho, with no hint of empathy or heartbreak, with his arm hurled over Hiraya’s shoulders as they strutted together through the halls. He watched your face drop and smirked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and deeply kissing her in front of everyone: in front of you. Tears fogged your eyes, staring at the two who were desperately trying to upset you, and it was working. Everyone stared at you as you rushed towards the girls bathrooms, locking yourself in a stall and letting out all your buried emotions.

The bell rang through the empty bathroom, vibrating the walls and penetrating your ear due to the loud volume. A few minutes of crying alone in the stall, you heard the bathroom door creak open slightly, soft footsteps entering and standing in front of the locked stall door.

“Y/N, are you in there?” A girl mumbled, knocking lightly on the door. Reluctantly, you unlocked the door and were met with a kind face. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you,” You whispered, wiping any tear stains from your cheeks.

The girl from your class held her hand out, pulling you up and into a quick comforting hug, something you needed and really appreciated. She mentioned that Mrs Waltz wanted your attendance, and you followed her back to the classroom, apologising for your late arrival and moving towards your seat, avoiding looking in the direction of the new cuddly couple.

You still couldn't believe it. Yunho left no time to mourn your relationship, quickly moving into another with his best friend: the one he constantly told you not to worry about, the one he said was ‘a mistake’ when he was insincerely apologising for cheating in the first place. Everything that ever came out of his mouth was a lie, especially when he said he loved you earlier that night — that was the biggest lie of all. If someone truly loved a person, they would never treat them like this.

For the rest of the lesson, it was your mission to ignore every snide remark you heard whispered behind your back, every glare you could feel tingling at the hairs on your neck. But your thoughts kept frying away, every emotion still so raw and heartbreaking. Your eyes were stinging with unshed tears, all being held back by the small amount of willpower you had. Luckily, your thoughts were pulled away from you, distracted by the boy next to you.

“Morning princess,” San whispered in your ear, noticing your upset and quickly changing his attitude. “Hey, are you okay?”

You remained silent, a little confused by his interest in your wellbeing, still unaware that he saw the whole break up occur. Also, you were far too aware of something that happened to him that night, something you didn’t mean to walk into, and it made it a little hard to look him in the eye again.

“Y/N, are you okay?” This time his voice was serious, serious enough for him to use your name rather than his favourite nickname for you, yet he still had a calm concern laced within his voice.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You whispered, maybe talking to San was the best distraction for you. “Everything’s fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” You replied, starting your ritual of scribbled drawings on your notebook.

San nodded quietly, stealing a purple pencil from your case and beginning to draw on the corner closest to him, small flowers and stars began to fill the paper. “Then we won’t talk about it.”

He wasn’t going to push you to talk, but he also didn’t want you thinking about any of it, and this was his solution for distraction. Through the lesson, he continued to draw on your notebook, never his own, and talked about any little random thoughts he had. It was strangely comforting, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, making sure not to raise it any higher incase of upsetting you. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but San seemed to be very caring and observing behind his usual fierce and cocky demeanour. 

He helped you pretend that Yunho didn’t exist, and he didn’t bring up anything about the party, not even the strange moment the two of you shared: even when he had been thinking about it since the party.

“Wanna join?” San asked, watching as your cheeks grew a crimson red before swiftly closing the door and leaving, a raspy chuckle falling from his lips.

The girl’s bounces grew harsher in an attempt to make San finish, but he was bored, your sudden appearance distracting him from the distraction he was using for you in the first place. This was meant to distract him from all the confusing emotions he felt back in the kitchen, but a strange feeling filtered his brain after seeing you walk in, he couldn’t justify it to himself. Swiftly he stopped the girl’s movements, a confused expression masking her face as he pulled her off of him effortlessly, leaving her lying naked and exposed on the bed.

“I’m bored of you now,” He stated, quickly throwing on his clothes and exiting the room, leaving the girl bewildered and humiliated.

Walking out into the hallway, he noticed the ruckus down stairs, watching as Yunho struggled to zip his pants up whilst stumbling down the stairs. He glanced at the girl exiting the bathroom, a shit-eating smirk sitting on her face as she watched Yunho chase after you.

That was when San pieced it all together: the fight where Yunho defended her not you, the constant closeness between the two, and now being caught with his pants down in the bathroom with her.

What a fucking idiot.

San made his way down the stairs, following the sound of your upset voice outside. He lent against the door frame, watching as you gave Yunho all he deserved, not accepting any bullshit from him anymore. Noticing the tears streaming down your cheeks, that strange feeling tingled within San; all he wanted to do was pull you into a tight hug and lull you to a calmer state. He truly had never felt this way towards someone, he didn’t even know the word for it.

“No, we’re done.” Was all San heard you say before you stormed off to the car.

Yunho’s shoulders hung low as he watched the car leave the driveway, turning around to see all the curious stares of outside lingerers. Awkwardly smiling, he started walking back towards the house but was blocked by the figure at the front door, who also watched the entire thing go down. San crossed his arms and glared at the tall boy, noticing anger flourished within him before sending him a smirk and returning inside.

The class went by quickly, San successfully keeping you distracted, both from Yunho and your school work. This was probably the least productive you have ever been in a class. The bell rang through the school indicating the start of lunch, Seonghwa and Yeosang already waiting outside the classroom door for you — they definitely ran for your classroom as soon as they heard the bell chime.

“Thank you for keeping me distracted.” You said quietly, taking back the pencil San stole from you, still a regular routine for him to steal your stuff.

“No problem, y’know if you do want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” San smiled sweetly, his dimples dipping within his cheeks perfectly. How can he have such a fierce look, but the moment he smiles, it feels like the world melts.

“See you later, princess.” He winked at you before leaving, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous nickname. You weren’t entirely sure why he chose to call you ‘princess’, but it was safe to say that it was growing on you, even if you tried to fight it.

As you left the classroom, Yeosang flung his arm over your shoulder and Seonghwa took a hold of all your belongings before neatly placing them into your locker. When you walked into the courtyard, every eye from every table turned their attention to you once more: some in a pitiful way, others in a judgemental or teasing way. You hated the attention with whatever way they looked at you. 

You quickly caught a glimpse of the cuddly new couple, both glaring and smirking at you before making out in the middle of the courtyard — the sight made you physically sick. You knew Yunho didn’t truly love you, but did he really hate you that much to pull shit like this.

“I heard they’re officially dating,” Seonghwa quietly mentioned, taking his seat at the table under the tree and mumbling a directed ‘dumbass’ under his breath.

“How much more disrespectful can he get?” Yeosang scoffed, taking an angry bite out of his puppy shaped chocolate chip cookies. “I mean, seriously, was cheating not enough, now he has to date the bitch?”

“Can we not talk about it?” You muttered, and the two boys were quick to change the subject onto something that you had no interest in until today: Star Wars.

Still feeling the deep cuts of the whole situation and still aware of the lingering eyes surrounding the courtyard — including San’s. You felt them piercing through you, the intense aura making the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. Looking past and behind Yeosang at the gang’s claimed table, San was quick to meet your eyes, watching your every move with extreme vehemently. His eyes softened at your saddened expression, but the rest of his face remained fierce. The longer you held eye contact, the more it felt like you were having a conversation.

Though it was wordless, you could read everything he said through his eyes. He was asking if you were okay, truly caring about the result. It was unusual considering Yunho never even asked you if you were alright when you would be visibly crying, yet San can notice with a gaze and ask without words. You sent him a small nod, thankfully going unnoticed by Seonghwa and Yeosang, and watching as his shoulders untensed themselves.

“Fuck, I think I’m still high from that party.” Wooyoung groaned, rubbing his eyes roughly. Mingi and Jongho weren’t too focused on him, too invested in their regular bickering over someone stealing the other’s food, but San noticed… sort of. He wasn’t paying complete attention, still focusing part of it on you even after you gave him reassurance. 

God, what was happening to him?

“Maybe you should lay off the coke a bit,” San eventually answered, earning a disapproving side eye. “You’ve been going pretty hard lately, Woo.”

“Pfft, okay Yeosang~” Wooyoung caught himself by surprise at the name drop — he’s definitely still high.

He prayed that San wasn’t quick enough to pick up on it, but he was. Turning to face him, he squinted his eyes at the boy who avoided his stare the best he could. When San came down the stairs at the party, he hadn’t directly noticed Yeosang leaving the bathroom at the time, but he had noticed Wooyoung leave it a few minutes later.

“So, what happened in the bathroom?”

“Snorting.” Wooyoung snapped, San observing the quick glance he sent towards the back of Yeosang’s head.

Any question asked, Wooyoung avoided answering. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to talk about it, he wanted to forget everything that happened in that bathroom. He had practically overdosed by the end of that night, but nothing could erase the memories of it. Any time since the party, all he would think about was Yeosang. Looking down at his fiddling hands, he ran his fingertips over the rough bruised skin of his knuckles, wincing at the reminder of the shattering feeling.

Wooyoung stood there in disbelief as Yeosang hastily exited the bathroom. This was the moment he realised he had truly fucked up their relationship, and Yeosang had no trust for him anymore. If this was four years ago, one bat of his lashes along with a small apology and Yeosang would’ve melted into his arms and forgiven him in an instant. But now, even with a short and sincere apology, Yeosang walked out — rightfully so.

Wooyoung leaned against the bathroom sink, slowly lifting his head and meeting his reflection. It stared back at him in disgust, defining his blown out redden eyes and the coke residue under his nose. Everything about this sight was all too familiar, and not because he got high every second day — he looked the exact same he did four years ago, the day he ruined everything.

That familiar anger bubbled inside of him as he thought about all the things Yeosang had said to him, not only tonight but that day as well. With every recurring memory, he slammed his fist against the mirror.

“Because, you’re not fine! I know you’re not, I know you better than anyone.”

Punching the mirror harshly, quick to pull away to wince at the sharp pain but not smart enough to stop.

“Youngie- Please, it hurts! P-please, stop!”

Another punch that began to crack the mirror, similar velocity to one he landed on Yeosang’s face years ago.

“I fought my hardest for you, for us, and you threw it all away from some fucking biker gang you hardly knew!”

The crack in the mirror began to grow larger, small shards of glass wedging their way into Wooyoung’s knuckles.

“And after all of that, I messaged you every day for three months even when you blocked my number!”

The final hit caused the mirror to come crashing down, shards of glass shattered throughout the bathroom. Wooyoung’s knuckles were covered in the crimson red liquid that spilled from his cuts, quick to be washed away by the cool water from the sink. Tears unconsciously and uncontrollably streamed down his face, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years, wiping them away before leaving the bathroom and quickly meeting up with San.

The bell blasted through the courtyard, Wooyoung was quick to jump out of his seat and chase after someone. He followed the boy down the hallway, thankfully an empty one, before grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him into a small dip of the corridor.

“What the fuck Wooyoung?” Yeosang yelled, but in a whisper, furrowing his eyebrows at the shorter boy who suddenly kidnapped him.

“Can we talk, please?” Wooyoung asked, his eyes pleading with the boy who denied them.

“No, I don’t want to talk to you, ever.” Yeosang began to walk away but was stopped once more by the grasp on his wrist, a little tighter now. He could feel Wooyoung’s desperation in his hold, see it in his eyes, but he couldn’t give in. He wanted to, but he knew it was start another unhealthy cycle of disappointment. “I’m serious Youngie, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y-youngie..?” Wooyoung whispered, the nickname filling him with emotions he didn’t know he had.

Yeosang hadn’t even realised that he said it, the nickname he gave him when they first met, one that nobody else used but him — one he hadn’t heard in years. He turned and looked at Wooyoung, both their faces masked with the same shocked expression before Yeosang finally pulled away and rushed to his homeroom.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The final class of the day was the one you feared the most: history. Usually it was your favourite class, always having an interest in the historical events that changed the world, but today was different.

Why?

Maybe because you had to complete the history project with someone who you had immense history with, if you can consider history something that ended just a few days ago.

Before entering the classroom, you prepared yourself for the inevitable — though as you walked in and saw Yunho and Hiraya sitting side by side, you instantly changed your perspective. You didn’t have to force yourself to work with him, you didn’t deserve that, so you quietly walked up to your teacher’s desk and asked to change partners.

“Ah Y/N, just the person I wanted to see.” Mrs Waltz exclaimed in her usual happy tone. “Your project partner has been switched, is that okay?”

“Uhh, yeah that’s fine…” Did she read your mind as you walked in, you didn’t even get to ask for the switch and it already happened. “Can I ask… did Yunho request to switch partners?”

“No, he didn’t, but he was okay with the idea.” She explained, noticing the slight discomfort in your expression, and being a teacher: she was well aware of student relationships and the ends of them. “San requested it, he’s your new partner.”

San requested the partner change, not Yunho. He could see how hurt you were at the party and this morning, but other than beating Yunho up — again, even though he was fighting demons inside not to — he simply removed any possibility of you being trapped in an uncomfortable setting.

Quickly remembering the warning Yeosang said about San, none of it was matching with the behaviours he showed towards you. Sure, he hooked up with plenty of girls and flirted with you almost every day, but there was no hint of him being an asshole. He seemed… genuine and kind-hearted, however you remained with a weary idea of him; in the back of your mind. Right now, he was the person who saved you from another manipulative and gaslighting conversation with your ex.

Moving over to your designated seat, you quietly sat down and set up your usual arrangement of materials. San strode into the room and was quick to sit down next to you, whispering a small hello as he stole his favourite pen of yours before comfortably slumping back into the chair with crossed arms and manspread legs. 

As Mrs Waltz went through the roll call and the opening lecture, you kept glancing through your peripheral vision at San, unsure of how to get his attention without pulling the entire class’ towards the two of you. Lightly tapping his knee under the table, it instantly piqued his interest, swiftly moving closer to you and leaning on the desk. A slight concern masked his face as he looked at you, thinking that you needed another distraction but all you had was gratitude.

“Thank you for switching partners.” You whispered, a gentle smile gracing your face.

“All good.” He replied as Mrs Waltz finished her lecture and ordered the class to continue on their projects. “I didn’t think you’d want to be stuck with that asshole for another week.”

You lightly giggled, a sound that was new favourite music to San’s ears that causes uncontrollable butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Ever since first meeting you a few months ago, he thought that maybe you would be another girl he would seduce for a night then leave dry, but he couldn’t even imagine doing that to you. Not because at the time of your introduction you had a boyfriend, that would usually encourage him, but it was because he saw a sense of innocence and comfort in you. He hated that he felt this way about someone, but it was uncontrollable, and that’s what made him hate the feeling more.

“So, what historical event are we doing?” You asked, your sudden gaze on him pulling his attention back on you, his ears turning a light pink that was barely noticeable. You certainly didn’t notice it.

“Well, you said that Attack on Pearl Harbour was interesting to you, so I just kept that one.” San mentioned, grabbing your notes and pulling them out. “Plus, Wooyoung is really interested in that Frank Ferdinand guy-”

“Franz Ferdinand.”

“Whatever his name is, not my problem anymore.” San said, earning another heart-fluttering giggle from you.

You glanced back at Wooyoung and Yunho’s table, noticing that they already weren’t getting along. You felt a little guilty by ‘forcing’ Wooyoung to have to be with him, but then you remembered all the shit he did to your best friend, and the guilt was swiftly replaced with a sense of karma.

“Is Wooyoung mad that he had to switch partners?” You asked San, who was typing any information he found in the document.

“Who cares, he’ll get over it.” San rolled his eyes. He was still upset that Wooyoung was lying to him earlier, it gave him the feeling that he wasn’t trusted by the boy, and trust happened to be a big thing in any type of relationship with San. 

The rest of the class went smoothly, and so did the next few days. Throughout the classes you shared, you and San had become closer quite quickly, the both of you talking every day and teaching each other small, insignificant details about your lives. Homeroom and History ended up becoming what you looked forward to when you’d wake up each morning, knowing you’d get to see San.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t developed small feelings for the boy, his unknown to most caring personality shining over any of the possible red flags that Yeosang warned you about. And unbeknownst to you, San also felt excited for the classes you shared, now attending school every day just to see and talk to you.

As the school week was coming to a close, the weekend just right around the corner, the two of you agreed to finish working on the project at your house since it was due tomorrow. Waiting outside the school at the end of the day, Seonghwa walked up behind you. “Do you need a ride home?”

“That’s okay, Hwa.” You gently declined his offer, your usual ride (being Yeosang) leaving school earlier in the day for an appointment — he was meant to return but he never did. “San is driving me home to finish our history project.”

“C-choi San?” Seonghwa questioned, a nod from you confirming that he didn’t hear you wrong.

Sudden worry began to fill him, considering he knew the boy very well and knew what he was like alone with people, especially pretty girls. Before he could warn you of anything, San walked out of the doors with a smile asking if you were ready to leave. Waving goodbye to Seonghwa, he watched as the two of you walked to the carpark.

There wasn’t anything specifically romantic about it but he remained worried. After seeing how heartbroken you were with Yunho, he knew you could not handle someone like San. Though Yunho was manipulative and conniving, San was a hundred times worse in Seonghwa’s eyes. He wanted to warn Yeosang of the growing relationship between the two of you, but remained silent for now until it became overly concerning to him.

“I am not getting on that.” You protested, having momentarily forgotten that San rides a motorbike to school every day.

“Come on, this is safer than a car.” San rolled his eyes, holding out his helmet and insisting you put it on.

“How would a motorbike be safer than a car? Absolutely not.”

“Look princess, it’s either the motorbike or you’re walking.” He rebutted, shaking the helmet in his hand.

You frowned at him, only amusing him, grabbing the helmet and placing it over your head, San quick to make any adjustments. You climbed on the back of his bike, your arms holding onto his waist before fully wrapping around it — the fluttering butterflies returned to his stomach.

“What about your helmet?” You asked as he started the engine.

“I’ll be fine, plus the princess needs the protection more, right?” He said before revving the engine and leaving the school grounds. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, head hiding in his back as the fear of being on a motorbike filled you. A reassuring hand gently tapped against your thigh, remaining there for the rest of the ride.

It wasn’t fast before you were home, the moment the bike stopped you launched yourself off it, San chuckling at your excitement to be home safe and sound. Dragging his bike into the driveway, you led him into your house, quickly greeting and introducing him to your mum, who already had a look on her face that indicated the handsome boy her daughter was taking upstairs was more than a friend. She also ended up using the excuse of bringing snacks up every thirty minutes just to get a look at the two of you, noticing the slight tension in the air and just shaking her eyebrows and smirking at you whilst San was looking away.

“Your mum is nice.” San mumbled, taking a bite of the chocolate chip cookies she just finished baking and practically moaning at the deliciousness.

“Yeah, she is.” You replied, still somehow focusing on your notes and not the handsome boy sitting on your bedroom floor. “I’m sure your mum is just as nice too.” You didn’t look up but you heard San hum softly in response.

The room was in a concentrated silence, neither of you talking too loudly and just attending to your work and listening to the soft tunes that strummed through the record player in the background. Though you were doing the majority of the work, which you were fine with, San was more helpful than you thought he’d be. He was very attentive with his research and very articulate with the sentences he wrote, it was almost like he used AI to write them — he did but changed a few words.

Every few minutes, you could feel his stare on you. He wasn’t meaning to stare but he couldn;t keep his eyes away from you. He enjoyed watching your face scrunch as you concentrated, noticing how your eyes would narrow at something important and your nose would wrinkle at something you didn’t entirely understand. How strands of hair fell across your face when you tilted your head down slightly, all he wanted to do was lean forward and tuck them behind your ears.

The sudden ding of his phone pulled him out of his daydreams, and pulled your attention up as well. You watched his facial expression grow serious, almost frightening, furrowing your eyebrows in concern.

“Is everything ok-”

“I have to go.” Was all he said before he rushed out of your room, the sound of his motorbike fading into the wind as he sped down your street, leaving you sitting in confusion and concern.

    ୨୧  next chapter

author’s note   i'm not gonna lie... i forgot to post this yesterday, i was so focused on something else and completely forgot to post !! and i didn't reread this tbh so if there is any mistakes, please let me know <3

also peak the quick teaser/cliffhanger at the end... the next chapter is exciting, i promise >.<

  ୨୧  taglist    @morethingsfandom @solaris-amethyst @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @baby-stay92 @autieofthevalley @liveloveseonghwa @dejatiny @mortal-advocate @dreamsoffanfics @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @dalsuwaha @nevieatiny @woateez @choizlover @woosmaid @yeosannie4 @auroras-colors @mintchocosan @jjongbearsies @frzzenfrxg @sanniebabes @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @eyesonlyformingi @sannies-tiddies @honeyjongie @rainteez02 @robertsbbygirl @mingisgf999 @atzz8 @moonlight-hwa @chrryjoong @sanhwalvr @cloudysannie @atxxzist @choisansplushie @starz-choisanii @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @jerseygirlzzzxx @mzngi @sparda1234 @babigriin @marvolos @snapcracklen @posseup @justineasian @amazaynaastha @vixensss @deltamoon666 @randajjjad @m4n4-s4m4

[riecoeur]

melody of us.

pairing — husband!anton x fem!reader

summary — anton’s first solo mini-album has just dropped, and every note, every lyric, is a piece of your life together woven into sound. as his wife, you’ve watched him pour his heart into this project while balancing his schedules with riize, late-night studio sessions, and quiet moments with you. the album tells your story about how you met, the way he fell for you, the little quirks he adores, and the promises he’s made. one evening, he sits you down, headphones in hand, and plays it for you, his shy smile hiding the nerves as he waits for your reaction.

warnings — pure fluff, maybe a little overwhelming sweetness, mentions of real-life exhaustion (but nothing heavy), and a whole lot of love that might make your heart ache in the best way (i hope)

🪿’s note — hello!! i hope all you anton lovers out there like this fanfic. just wanted to say that my requests are currently open, so feel free to send in anything! if you wanna talk about riize, fanfics, or literally anything else or if you just need someone to chat with, my ask box is always open. don’t be shy!! xx

📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !

“jagi, can you come here for a sec?”

anton’s voice drifts from the living room, soft but with that little edge of excitement you’ve learned to pick up on. you poke your head out from the kitchen, where you’ve been pretending to organize the counter just to keep your hands busy.

“what’s up, babe?” you call back, wiping your hands on a dish towel before stepping into the room.

he’s on the couch, legs tucked under the blanket you both love, his phone in one hand and those fancy headphones he’s so proud of in the other. his hair’s a mess probably from tugging at it all day and he’s got this shy, nervous smile that makes him look much cuter than he is.

“just… sit with me,”

he says, patting the spot next to him.

“i’ve got something to show you.”

you raise an eyebrow, tossing the towel over your shoulder as you walk over.

“is this about that secret project you’ve been hiding? because i swear, if it’s another guitar riff at 3 a.m…”

he laughs, that breathy sound that always gets you, and shakes his head.

“no, no. it’s done. my solo album. and, uh… it’s about you.”

you stop mid-step, blinking at him. “… wait, what?”

“yeah.”

he rubs the back of his neck, cheeks going pink.

“every song. it’s us. i wanted you to hear it first.”

you plop down next to him, the blanket shifting as you tuck your legs under it too. he’s been juggling so much lately with riize member rehearsals, flights, those late-night calls where he’s half-asleep but still asks about your day.

you knew he was working on something solo, but this? your heart’s already doing flips.

“okay, you’ve got my attention,” you say, leaning closer.

“show me.”

he hands you the headphones, fumbling a little as he pulls up the tracks on his phone.

“just… listen, okay? tell me what you think after.”

you nod, slipping them on, and he presses play.

the first track is.

‘first light’, all gentle acoustic strums and a melody that feels like sunrise. his voice comes in, smooth and tender, singing about the day he realized he loved you, coffee steam curling in the air, your laugh breaking through his sleepy haze. you remember that day, the lyrics paint it so clearly, and you feel your chest tighten.

then comes ‘habit’,

upbeat and playful, with a bassline that makes you want to dance. it’s about the little things of how you always steal his hoodies, the way you hum off-key in the shower, how he can’t sleep without your legs tangled in his. he’s sneaky with the details, slipping in that one time you burned toast and blamed it on him. you glance at him, and he’s watching you, biting his lip to hide a grin.

the third track named ‘anchor’, slows it down. it’s raw, just his voice and a piano, and it hits you hard. he sings about the chaos of his life with schedules, endless flights, the pressure and how you’re the steady thing keeping him grounded.

‘you’re my safe place, my always,’

he croons, and you feel tears prick your eyes because you know how much he means it. you’ve held him through those exhausted nights, his head on your shoulder, whispering that he’s okay as long as you’re there.

the last track is ‘vow’.

and it’s quiet, almost hushed, like a secret. the lyrics are simple but heavy with promise, about growing old with you, building a life, loving you through every season. it’s not flashy, but it feels like he’s handing you his heart all over again, just like he did when he proposed.

the final note fades, and you pull off the headphones, blinking fast to keep from crying. but then anton leans forward, tapping his phone screen.

“wait, one more thing,” he says, voice soft.

“there’s a credits track. it’s not really a song, just… something i had to add.”

you slip the headphones back on, curious, and a quiet recording starts. it’s just him speaking, his voice a little rough like he’s nervous again but still sweet.

‘uh, so… this album wouldn’t exist without you,’ he begins, and you can picture him in the studio, hunched over the mic.

‘to my wife, my muse, my everything, thank you for being the reason i can write, the reason i can breathe. every melody here is yours.’ there’s a pause, then his voice softens even more.

‘remember our wedding day? when we stood there, and i said, ‘i promise to hold you through every storm, to find you in every crowd, to love you louder than any song’? you said, ‘i promise to be your quiet place, your wild adventure, your forever home.’ those vows they’re in every note here.’

another pause, and then you hear it, your laugh, bright and unfiltered, recorded from some random moment he must’ve snuck onto his phone. ‘and that sound? that’s my favorite melody of all. i love you, always.’ he lets out a shaky laugh, and the recording ends.

you pull the headphones off again, and this time you’re a full-on mess, tears streaming down your face. anton’s staring at you, wide-eyed, like your reaction might make or break him.

“so…?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you don’t even know where to start.

“anton, this is… it’s us. it’s everything.”

you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands, and he exhales, like he’d been holding his breath.

“that credits track? our vows? my laugh? i’m sobbing, you babo. it’s beautiful.”

“you’re beautiful,”

he says, so earnest it makes you laugh through the tears.

“i just wanted to tell our story. i mean, riize is my dream, but you’re… you’re my life.”

you kiss him then, soft and slow, tasting the salt of your own tears and the warmth of him. he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go, and you stay like that for a while, the album still humming faintly through the headphones on the couch.

“play it again,” you murmur against his shoulder, and he smiles, reaching for his phone.

“only if you sing along this time,” he teases, and you groan, knowing he’ll never let you live down your off-key shower performances.

but you do it anyway, because it’s him, and this is your story, this messy, perfect, and all yours.

[salesmancarddd]

Dear stranger 2.

Salesman x OrphanFEM!Reader

Warning: Brief reference to a death, implied violence without graphic details, and a hint of possible kidnapping, Dysfunctional orphanage.

Note: Salesman meets an orphan who appears unusual compared to the other kids, and when the orphanage declines his adoption request, the story takes an unexpected turn.

PREVIOUS PART. SONG (in case you wanna listen

The air was thick, everything felt pause in moment, and the only sound was an echoing scream: "Someone call the police!" It sent a buzzing sensation through the crowd. People were staring and whispering, while a salesman stood frozen in place, his expression unreadable, his hands tightly gripping a briefcase.

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive. They began speaking with the caregivers, some entering the area, looking around and inspecting it. The children on the playground stood still, their faces a mix of confusion and fear, while caregivers insisted they remain quiet and still.

Typically, the salesman would mind his own business and move on. After all, he had just met the child, what did she mean to him? Absolutely nothing he thought. But as he recalled her expression that night, one of lifelessness and despair, he was struck by a strange familiarity. It was a face from his past.

Minutes later, the salesman approached the scene, standing behind an officer who was still talking to a caregiver. Suddenly, the caregiver recognized him. It was the same handsome man from the previous night—the one who had rejected her. Her expression shifted to annoyance, tinged with lingering fear from his earlier dismissal, but she didn’t care at that moment. What could he do now? The salesman made eye contact with her.

“You!” she snapped, catching the officer's attention.

“You were with her last night! What did you say to her?” she demanded, hoping to blame him and knowing the officer would likely believe her.

“Where is she!” she pressed, her annoyance turning almost threatening.

The salesman had seen this type of woman before, he’d dealt with people like her. He greeted the officer before making eye contact with him.

“What happened?”

the Salesman asked, speaking in his usual polite tone. Before the caregiver could respond, the officer continued, cutting her off.

“Earlier today, a child was reported missing. We’re still gathering information on the situation,” he said, glancing at the salesman.

“He was with her last night, officer!” the caregiver repeated, raising her voice. “Are you going to let a criminal just let go! What about the poor child who is missing?”

He could see the smirk on her face as she spoke, and he had no time for her games. He needed to know where Y/N was now, was she safe? Had something happened to her? So many questions swirled in his mind.

“Miss, I appreciate your concern, but I kindly ask that you lower your voice. ” the officer responded firmly before turning his attention back to the salesman.

Before the officer could say more, another officer approached with a piece of paper in hand. The first officer excused himself to talk with him. The salesman strained to listen to their discussion when, suddenly, the caregiver spoke up.

“You know, if you hadn’t rejected me last night, maybe I wouldn’t be making a scene now. I could have you arrested,” she smirked, stepping closer to him.

He was used to people like her, maintained his expression without acknowledging her taunts.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Scared?” she continued, still smirking as she advanced on him. “It’s a shame you turned me down, now you’ll regret it."

He sighed in annoyance, not in the mood for her “silly threats”. Did she really think anyone would believe her? did she really think he was scared of her? silly really.

“You’re playing with fire here. I’d be careful if I were you,” he warned, his voice low and steady, with an undercurrent of danger.

Before she could retort, the officer returned, handing the paper to the salesman, causing the caregiver to step back.

It took him only a moment to recognize Y/N from the details listed: her family name, the city she's from. As he read, he realized she wasn’t from here—she was a migrant who had moved countries. She had been here since she was a baby and, seeing her parents' names crossed out, he understood the grim implication. It made sense why she was here alone.

“Can you tell us when did you saw her last time, Sir?” the officer asked, awaiting his response as he continued to absorb the information on the paper.

“I saw her in the playground last night, as I was passing by,” the salesman stated, maintaining eye contact with the officer.

“Why were you out so late?” the officer inquired.

"I was walking back from work. ”

he replied politely, knowing he had to lie about the nature of his work. He was accustomed to lying with complete confidence it was second nature.

The officer took him at his word after all, why would a well-dressed man like him be involved in something like this? Asking him further questions would seem ridiculous.

“Alright, thank you, sir,” the officer concluded, and the salesman nodded in acknowledgment. The caregiver, however, wasn’t pleased.

“Aren’t you going to question him further?” she pressed, turning to the officer. “You can’t just let him go like that!”

"Miss, last warning.” the officer said sternly, before returning his attention to the salesman. “My apologies, sir. You may go.” the caregiver kept on yelling background.

The salesman hesitated, wanting to ask for an update on her situation—was she okay? Was she safe? But he worried it might raise suspicion, so he walked away, thanking the officer before he left, keeping her identification paper.

As he walked to the bus station, his mind spun with thoughts about everything that had just happened. He tried to distract himself by looking for people to recruit, the satisfaction of seeing their pathetic faces would bring him some solace. But then, his gaze fell upon a bridge.

Standing there was a figure. It didn’t quite look like an adult human.

He moved closer for a better look—it was…

[anonmousegosqueek]

I know it was just head canons in my last ask, not much for you to actually expand on, but I have a request oh great Author. Well, technically two of them, but I'm not sure if you write Kortac characters. I'll send the Kortac one here, and then make another ask with the plain 141, so feel free to just ignore this one. Warning, I'm still highly medicated at the moment.

. . .

The 141 is forced to work with the Gun for Hire company Kortac. I think they've got their own ranking system, so while König is considered a colonel to his people, it doesn't mean shite to the actual military personnel.

König (208 cm) and Ghost (193 cm) get along surprisingly well, both lamenting over the world being too small for them. While König is definitely not normal like Ghost, he can at least compartmentalise better than most people.

König brings his boyfriend Horangi with him, and Soap is just like, "have I blown you up before?" because he overheard Horangi and Gaz talking about their most traumatic injuries. (Gaz: Helicopter. Horangi: Getting blown up and barely surviving.)

Horangi: "Most likely, which means you failed."

Que Soap spending the entire mission trying to figure out when he almost killed Horangi (spoiler, they've never run into each other) while their boyfriends watch from the sidelines in chairs that are too small.

-🦴

Bonerrrr y'all are keeping me FED

I feel like I've made enough Gaz appreciation posts that I can make something for König.

Did you know- I was actually a König simp before anything else? I didn't even know what CoD was (outside of toxic lobby voice chat memes) before him. I'm just always hesitant to write anything about the big anxiety cuddlebug because A: the Gaz vs. König debate scares me, I'm so sick of people replacing Gaz but I also love König with all my heart, and B: (more importantly) he's pure fan characterization. It's too much of a risk to accidently write him 'wrong' cus I imagine him one way.

Now onto the sillies.

I was gonna draw something but I got too many thinks I gotta get out so I skipped it for now. But the mentor image of two big spooky guys, looming around and staring at these short loud men, sitting in chairs way too small? I think they're very much 'sitting in silence=friendship' kinda guys.

Like- Soap and Horangi running around outside, having fun after a mission (Gaz is here too, you'll see why later), they've already gotten in trouble for trying to steal Roach, eaten allll the snacks, and probably hidden several traps for the others to find later.

Ghost and König in the shade, one of them is giving the death stare, the other is sharpening knives. Why? Because König has resting murder face (with the mask on, without it he looks like a drowned rat who needs a hug) and knives are Ghost's autistic hobby.

And don't get it confused- both of these pares are literally besties now. Yeah Horangi and Soap are planning to go out for drinks and keep in touch once Kortac has to leave whereas König and Ghost haven't said a word to each other in over an hour. That's just their style.

König proved himself in the field, showed strength, leadership, and protected his men when it came down to it. That's enough for Ghost.

Besides, they're both used to... Noisy boyfriends, some quiet is definitely appreciated.

AND THEN ROACH COME UP-

König- "I like my small angry husband" :)

Ghost- "I like my small angry husband" :)

Roach- 'i like my small angry husband" :3

Ghost- "..."

König- "Pardon?"

Ghost- "Roach... Bbg, you *are* the small husband. Just cus Gaz is short doesn't make you tall."

Roach- :(

König- "???"

Ghost- "fine. You can join the 'has a small angry husband' club even though your husband is not small or angry."

Roach- :D

[grimesve1l]

Hii I love your fics so I was wondering if you could make a rick grimes fic with a voice kink lmaoo. I was thinking something like the reader has a biggg crush on him and she thinks his voice is really hot and gets really flustered when he talks to her and he starts teasing her about it.

Smooth

A/n: Im glad you enjoy my fics and tysm for ur request!! You didn't specify what season so i decided to go with when the group first arrived in Alexandria, I hope that's alright<3

Summary: You first met Rick Grimes at the welcoming party Deana hosted for his group and his voice hasn't left your mind since.

Warnings: tbh nothing rly js a lil sexual tension and suggestiveness

When you saw Rick for the first time you couldn't lie he frightened you. It was obvious him and his group had been on their own for quite some time and weren't looking to make new friends. This impression changed when you properly met Rick. What really changed your mind was his tone when he spoke to you. You can recall it easily.

Deana was introducing Rick to other residents of Alexandria when you heard him. For the most part he kept his voice low, clearly untrusting of the people he spoke to. Still, you could hear how his voice was rich and smooth when he talked. You also detected a southern drawl that only deepened your appeal.

You take a deep breath when you spot the two approaching you. You attempt to act unsuspecting of them but your eyes catch with Ricks and you can tell he sees through your act. Deana initiates the conversation "Y/n! Have you met Rick yet?" she asks enthusiastically.

"I can't say I have." you respond keeping your eyes on him. "Well i'm happy to introduce you two. Rick, this is Y/n, she handles all of the food in Alexandria." she explains. "Yep, you need some canned pineapple or some cooking oil then i'm your girl." you joke.

"I'll remember that." he laughs as he looks down at his glass. Three words was all it took for you to feel your skin heat up. You could listen to him talk forever. "Speaking of food, did there any baby formula here? We're running low." he asks. You don't respond for a moment as you were honestly more focused on the sound of his voice than what he was actually saying.

"Baby formula? I don't think we do. I'll make sure to add it to the list of things we need." you tell him after you realize what he said. "I appreciate that. Y/n right?" You freeze at this. He said your name and it sounded perfect falling from his lips. If you could turn back time you would just to hear him again.

"Um yes that's right." you say trying to mask how flustered you are. Deana pays you no mind but you know he's onto you. His lip quirks up before he mutters his next sentence. "Well it was nice meeting you, Y/n." he says with a smile that tells you he knows what he's doing to you.

"Nice meeting you too." you respond. You know your blushing based on the heat you feel in your cheeks. After Deana and Rick head to the next person you slip away to the bathroom. You're looking at yourself in the mirror when you feel it. Listening to him talk made you wet and not just a little, enough to feel it against your inner thighs.

You couldn't believe it you just met the man, barely said anything to him really and yet here you were soaked through your underwear. You quickly gather yourself and head back to the party. That night you don't talk to him again but soon enough the two of you have another encounter.

The next time you spoke to him was when you had finally gotten some baby formula. Wanting to talk to him again you decide to bring it to his house. You knock on the door careful not to drop the cans in your hands. The door opens and you see Rick looking down at you.

"Morning." he greets you. Had his voice gotten more attractive since the last time you spoke? You stand there trying to form a proper sentence. "Y/n, you alright?" Hearing him call your name brought you back to your thoughts. "Yes! Sorry, it's still kinda early. I was just stopping by to drop these off." you say referring to the baby formula.

"Right." Rick says not believing your excuse about it being too early. "Why don't you come on in? Maybe some coffee will help you." he tells you stepping aside. You quickly agree and head inside. He gently shuts the door behind you, making you assume his kids are still sleeping. You place the formula on the island and turn around.

You come face to face with him, not aware that he was so close behind you. "Sorry, I just wanted to look at these." he says reaching over you to grab one of the cans. You tense up at how he presses against you slightly. He lets out a small "Hmm" as he reads the label. You clench your legs together at this sound.

He was right next to your ear and making noises like that. How could you not be affected? "Will that be good for her?" you ask trying to distract yourself. "Mhm, it'll work just fine." be says lowly. You only get more worked up as this continues. He picks up on your reaction and smirks to himself as he leans back of of you.

He moves to grab a coffee mug from one of the cabinets after telling you to take a seat at the island. You do so now watching him pour you both a cup. "I haven't gotten around to picking up creamer bug i've got some sugar packets here." he says goosing you a couple after setting your mug down. "Oh, that's alright." you tell him as you begin poring a packet into your mug.

"So how are you liking Alexandria?" you ask bringing the mug to your lips. "It's nice but you people need weapons. Anyone could come in and take this place if they wanted." he says seriously. His voice is deeper now as he's sharing his true thoughts. You begin to feel your arousal leaking into your underwear. "Who would take this place?" you ask.

You were curious as to whether there was a threat you were unaware of but you mainly just wanted to distract yourself from the growing wetness in your panties. "No one in particular but people are different now. They see something they want they take it." he informs you as he takes a seat beside you.

You know what he was saying was important but you just couldn't focus with the way his voice deepens as he speaks. He turns so his body is completely facing you as he speaks. You look away as he searches your face, having noticed the change between the two of you.

He reaches out and places his hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. "You sure everything's alright, Y/n?" he asks lowly. You suddenly aware that this whole time he's been messing with you. That's why he keeps saying your name, that's why he leaned over by your ear earlier. He's been toying with you while you thought he was just being neighborly.

"Mhm." you say quietly, still avoiding his gaze. "Really? Because it's like whenever I talk to you something happens to you." he says not even trying to hide his amusement. Your eyes flicker back to him for just a moment but long enough to confirm his theory. "So that's what's going on. You like listening to me talk. Huh?" He only leans closer as he continues tormenting you.

"I'm right, ain't I?" he asks just inches from your ear. You struggle to find the words to say to him. You can't believe just yesterday you met him and now he was practically on top of you. "Answer me, Y/n." he commands, wanting to hear you admit your little fixation. "You're right." you breathe out quietly.

He lets out a small laugh and you feel his breath against the side of your throat. "You know-" he begins before he's cut off by his daughter's cry from upstairs. He sighs as he leans back. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Looks like we'll have to finish this another time." he says as he heads towards the stairs.

A/n: omg it's been a minute since i wrote smth (only like a week but still lmao.) anywho i hope i did this request justice considering i've never done a voice kink before so yeah :3

Go here to be added to my taglist!!

Find more of my stuff here :p

[the-universal-sun]

Hi, love your stories and had an idea to share!

A story where someone in the Mystery Trio (maybe Fidds, idk) regresses at a very inconvenient time? And they try to hide it or push it off or pretend it's fine while they are very much panicking because they don't even know what triggered it. When the other two pick up on it, the Little cries about how they didn't mean to and the others comfort them?

Anyway, no hurry to do anything with this! Take your time if you choose to write it. I know you're probably a bit busy.

Take care!

~ ☀️

I'm so sorry this one took so long @sunflowerdrabbles ! Writer's block hit me and hit me hard! I would come and just stare at my computer, getting a sentence or two done. TBH, I'm not the happiest with what I wrote, too. I'm deeply sorry if the vision you had in mind wasn't captured! Hopefully now that I've had a little break from school and the weather is warming up, this awful writer's block can go away, I have so many draft I WANT to work on. To those who are still here, thank you for sticking around, I really appreciate it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for requesting this, I did love it and love working on it, even though it took me so long. I hope you all enjoy reading it!

XX

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"Ya' sure you're okay to go, bubs?" Bubba-Stanely asked, concerned about Fiddleford's headspace. Which was completely misplaced concern because he's fine, he's Big and can go play-go on a research hike with Stan and Ford. Because he's an adult with an adult mind and is perfectly capable of traversing through the woods looking for fae and goblins.

"It's perfectly fine if you don't feel up to it-urk!" Stan elbowed Ford, glaring slightly at him for his words. "I'm-I meant if you're feeling close to dropping. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you out in the field. We can do this another day-" Fiddleford isn't going to let his friend finish.

"I said I'm fine. I'm not little, I ain't even close to it! I'm feeling perfectly fine. Now. Can we go?" Fiddleford gestures towards the open door, his pack ready and on his back. He doesn't need to be handled with kiddie gloves, he's a grown man. He was looking forward to this trip, too. Apparently there's some sort of metal deposit in the area that'd be fantastic for his latest robotics project, and Fiddleford just can't wait to get his hands on it. Well, more accurately, he's been waiting months and can't wait any longer. That's the only reason he's so ready to go, not the thoughts in his head screaming at him to act his age.

With out a backwards glance, Fiddleford practically stomps out of the Shack, eager to prove how capable he is in that moment, not feeling Small and all such. Stan and Ford trade a long glance behind his back, silently promising the other that they'll keep an eye on Fidds, then more reluctantly follow him out. Fiddleford stops at the edge of a the woods, impatiently tapping his foot. The twins are taking forever to get here, typically he's the one dragging his feet, and Ford was the one who was the most excited for this yesterday! It's because they think he's hovering in-between headspaces, that it's not safe for him, a full grown adult, to come. Normally, he'd agree with them, but for some reason, their doubts about his headspace and capability are just making him upset. Fiddleford'll show them, he can do this, he can be Big and go search out devil creatures with his friends. He's got this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Okay. Maybe he doesn't have this after all.

It was all going so well, Fiddleford was enjoying himself, he only tripped and got scared and hid behind Stan a few times! Until some giant sort of chimera creature jumped them, it was snarling and frothing at the mouth and so scary. Stan and Ford were figuring out ways to fight it, but Fiddleford's already frayed nerves snapped and he ran. He ran until he couldn't breath, hiding behind a twisty and creepy looking tree. He didn't even realize he was crying until he collapsed on the ground. He also realized he was dropping. Hard. And quickly.

Great, this was just what he needed. To be hiding, scared, and crying. All Fidds wanted to do was, was what? Prove he wasn't a scaredy-cat, that he could keep up with them on the research and expeditions? They already knew that, Stan and Ford. No, what he really wanted to do was to prove he could be an adult. To act like one when he needs to, when the time comes. To prove his nasty thoughts wrongs. And look how that turned out for him. He just wants to go home, get into some jammies, and curl up with Bubba and Stanford.

Fidds feels the tear drops labs on his hands, his lips quiver as he tries and fails to hold back his sobs. He’s scared and all alone, he wants comfort. Comfort from his stuffies and from his favorite people. He wants-

“Fidds? Hon is that you!?” It’s Bubba! It’s Bubba’s voice coming from behind his hidey spot! He’s come to save him and take him home where Uncle Stanford can fix him up and Bubba can kiss his boo boos!

“Bubba! ‘M h-here, Bubba!” He calls, not moving from his spot. Uncle Stanford always told him that if he gets lost when Small that he has to stay where he is and wait for him or Bubba to find him. Fidds figures that using his outside voice is still okay, especially if it helps them find him. “Right here Bubba!” He hopes they find him fast, he got scrapes and scratches from running and they sting real bad.

“Fidds! Finally found ya’, we was looking everywhere for you, sweetie.” Bubba rounds the tree, his brow furrowed, but not in an angry way, in a worried way. He was scared. Scared for Fidds. And doesn't that just make him feel even worse, his sobs increasing in force and volume.

"Stanley! Stanley, did you find him? Is he okay?" Uncle Stanford, he's found him, too! Fidds reaches his hands up, still crying, needing to be picked up and held. His feet hurt and his legs feel like wobbly jelly, he doesn't think he can walk back home. He sniffles as Bubba picks him him and moves him around until he's being held in a piggy back ride, Uncle Stanford behind him with a six-fingered hand patting his back. Fidds sniffles some more, his eyes drying up now that he's with his caregivers, the terribly guilty feeling of making them worry and get upset at him clawing up his throat.

"Y' mad at me?" He asked in a soft voice, hiding his face in Bubba's shoulder, he can't see either of their faces from this angle, but it brings him comfort to hide his face away like this.

"Mad? Oh, Lil' Man no, of course we ain't mad at ya'. 0-or upset with ya'." Bubba's hands tighten around Fidds' legs, hiking him further up his back.

"Grammar aside, Stanley's right, F. We aren't upset with you, we were so worried when you ran away, these are dangerous woods even in a group." Uncle Stanford takes breathes, his hand gripping Fidds' shirt tightly, "Please never do that again, I don't think my heart could take it."

Oh, he did make them upset. Not the mad kind, but the worried kind. That made his chest ache and his eyes sting worse than the thought of making them mad. Fidds couldn't help his lips wobbling and breath going funny. His sobs start again, silent and hiccuping.

" 'M sorry, I didn't mean ta' run away. Was-hic-was jus-jus scared by the-and I. I j-just," He can barely speak wiping his eyes on Bubba's shoulder. "I w-wan'ed to come and be-be Big because-hic-because-" He feels like such a bad boy, worrying his Bubba and Uncle Stanford like that. He shouldn't have gone with them. He was so stupid! " 'M a bad boy..."

"No! You're not a bad boy, not at all Fiddleford McGucket! You are sweet and kind and good beyond measure!" Stanford stopped Stan with a hand on his shoulder and turned him around, ducking his head to make eye contact with Fiddleford. "You are such a good boy, Fiddleford, even when you make mistakes or you misbehave on purpose, you'll always be good." Stanford sounded resolute, his eyes firm. His hand left Stan's shoulder to rest gently of Fiddleford's, petting gently at it.

"Yeah, Bud. We get it, you wanted to come with us, but we wouldn't mind postponing this-uh-little "outing" 'till you felt, well, uh. Not so small?" Stan piped up, his neck craned to look at Fiddleford, his nose brushing his cheek and his eyes soft.

"B-but you woulda' had'ta w-watch cartoons n' play games with me. An' other kid stuff. An' I'mma adult. B-but I can be big-"

"We know you are and we know you can be, Fiddleford, but we-Stanley and I love you. It doesn't matter if sometimes you're feeling too-too scared or too small to engage in more adult or dangerous aspects of our work, we would gladly spend a day playing with you."

"Yeah, what Sixer said. Little Man," Bubba sets him down on the ground before sitting down himself and maneuvering until Fidds was sitting in his lap, "Fiddleford, we love hangin' out with you, adult or not. Because it's you we're with. Don' matter what we do; Tinkering' with your creepy ass-uh ignore that word-doomsday bots or playing jacks. 'Sides I like watching cartoons with ya'." Stan crushed Fidds to his chest and noogied his hair.

"R-really? Even though-though I can't-um-I can't-" It's hard for Fidds to get the words out of his mouth, something he always has trouble with when the world feels too big for him.

"It doesn't matter what you can or cannot do, what limitations you may have; you're not just our friend, Fiddleford, you're family to Stanley and I, so none of that matters." Stanford pulls Fiddleford's face to meet his, needing his friend to see the sincerity in his eyes. "Any time we spend with you is time spent well. Not a waste or boring or any other such nonsense your brain tells you. Okay, F?"

Fidds' eyes sting with tears, good tears this time, not those stupid sad and scared tears from earlier, as he pulls Uncle Stanford into the tightest hug he can manage. The tightest one in the whole wide world. Bubba pets the back of his head and rocks them, Uncle Stanford's hands are returning Fidds' super strong hug with one of his own, squeezing his sides tightly. Tight enough to make his whole body relax against him and Bubba, their hands and bodies holding him up in a loving embrace.

Why was he so worked up in the first place? Why would he listen to those mean and nasty thoughts? Of course Bubba and Uncle Stanford wouldn't be upset if he was little, they said it themselves, they're family. And he loves his family oh so much.