#bit of a tw for this chapter for language
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Temporary Whispers Of The Heart âčââĄâ | Sosuke Aizen X Reader Chapter 6 | Army Dreamers
TW: blood, gore mention, slight domestic violence (yelling and sibling violence)
*words / sayings that might be unfamiliar are tagged with asterisks and chapter notes about them are provided at the end of the chapter :)
Ë âŠ â§âË â
Leaping into the air, you manipulated your Kido to allow your movements to stay fluid and elegant. The chill breeze of the night sky in the Human world greeted you, and you smiled feeling the wind sift through your flowy hair.
Your first lone mission as a Soul Reaper. You were jubilant, ecstatic in the moment as electricity pumped in your veins. Albeit still fairly inexperienced, you were to defeat a Hollow in the human world and bless its soul successfully. As you turn to the right, you see your companion leaping in the air, humming and grinning widely. He shot you an egotistical glance, the confidence embedded in his soul reflecting in his body language.
âSomeoneâs a bit too excited. Sure you wonât get too scared alone?â
Shuuhei nodded as he skipped over a building, laughing in response to your joke.
âIâm quite confident. I donât need my elder to worry for me~â
You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. âYou better watch your tongue, young boy. I'm not even that much older than you. And who knows you wonât burst into tears again?â
âUgh, my greatest apologies for holding a sympathetic and teary soul.â Shuuhei jested, faking his sorrow as he pretended to cry and wipe tears dramatically from his face whilst whipping his head away from you.
âWhatever you say, my little memeshÄ«~*â
âDonât call me that!â
You chortled at his flustered expression, guffawing at the sight of him so bothered over a simple tease.
Glancing at your Soul Pager, you discerned the location of the two hollows from the tags on the device. Albeit a little hesitant, you shut your pager and understood that this mission had to be done and was imperative to progressing your careers as Soul Reapers.
After notifying Hisagi, you both set off on your paths to the hollows you esteemed as your targets. The large, black and purple creature in sight towered over you, muttering incoherent sentences with jumbled phonetics as its crimson eyes latched onto you. You felt confidence, strength coursing through your veins as your body was energised with courage and determination. An easy feat as a Shinigami, right? Youâve done this many times before. Although many had resulted in dire failure, you were sure you had grown strong enough to complete such a simple task.Â
The skeletal structures on the Hollowâs arms and face clunked against each other ominously as it turned towards you, each step served with purpose. Something felt off. It felt⊠Intelligent? As if a mind of its own resided in the empty crevice of its heart.
Whispering the name of your ZanpakutĆ under your breath, you brought out your Shikai and sent a smooth gash to its arm. As you ran up to the creature, you sliced all vital limbs and attempted to cut its neck. However, a blast of blue plasma from its fist abruptly sent you backwards with great force. You coughed and sputtered as you were sent flying, skidding on the concrete roads underneath you.
The surprise stained on your face was unmistakable as you watched it regenerate its limbs, gurgling under its mask.
âŠWhat on earth?
It was definitely not a normal hollow. But why would the Gotei 13 send you two to defeat such a beast? You had never encountered anything like it in the academy. Perhaps it was designed to be a struggle.
Trepidation beside you, you managed to rise back onto your feet to grip your sword properly with both hands and run towards the beast again.
Each move of your sword was met with another piece of its skeletal armour, its reflexes almost surpassing your own. After the creature blocked you several times over, another swift move of its arm knocked you out of the air and in its hand it heldâŠ
A ZanpakutĆ?
Too appalled to react, you were vulnerable and the creature took the chance to finish you off, sending you flying by another blast from its fist.
It cannot be. Hollows do not wield⊠They do not have a soul to imprint on an Asauchi..
Clutching your bleeding side, your glare was ravenous. No. You werenât sure what mutation this was, but it would not reign defeat over you. You couldnât humiliate yourself more than you already had, as the weakest member of the ShihĆin family. A tarnish on an evershining vase.Â
Determined, you snapped its limbs with your Shikaiâs suppression and electric movements. Yet once more, a grotesque bubbling in its void black skin greeted you and its limbs were regained. You had never fought a hollow of this level and power⊠And the sword that you swore it held in its hand had not been erased from your memory.
The finishing blow greeted you as you had accidentally paused your sword for one second to catch your breath, a blast searing through half your being. You felt a sharp burn in your left ribs and warm, sticky liquid beginning to pool down your legs from your side. The blast caused your knees to wobble and you immediately fell to your knees, panting sporadically.
You couldnât have lost such a simple mission⊠There was something wrong with this creature.
Mustering up all of your strength, you mumbled a final command under your breath, manipulating your KidĆ to blast the beast with as much power as you could.Â
Exhausted, you finally fell to the ground, toppling over and splayed out. You sighed in temporary relief, as the beast seemed to have been placated by you. Clutching your bleeding side, you coughed up viscous and crimson liquid from your burning throat. The hollow seemed to have been defeated, now all that was left to exorcise its soul. Opening your eyes slightly, you watched the hollow reduce into a smaller form, furrowing your eyebrows as it seemed like a controlled action, externally done on purpose... To make it weaker? A foolish thought really, wouldnât the creature want to become strongerâŠ?
In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a glimpse of a man draped in black, extracting something of the hollow and suppressing it.
However, shock was short lived as impending doom suddenly overcame you at the sight of the Hollow standing up again, albeit smaller.
No⊠How did you not defeat it? You put every single fibre of your being into that battle?
Were you still so weakâŠ?Â
You shut your eyes, admitting defeat and disappointment as you awaited its final blast. You failed.
Long, black blades chained to their owner danced swiftly in the night sky, the moon illuminating their silhouette against the dark of the midnight.
A celestial glow accompanied Shuuhei as he elegantly sliced the Hollowâs head clean off, panting and bent over as its skeletal head slowly glided across its hemorrhaged neck, falling to the floor.Â
âYour Reiatsu⊠You scared me. Are you okay?â
Hisagi ran up to you, kneeling down next to you as he aided you in clutching your side.Â
âItâs⊠Not a hollow. It canât be. It had ⊠A ZanpakutĆâŠâ
You panicked seeing Shuuheiâs face of worry, clearly showing that he did not believe you.
âYou tried your best, itâs okay⊠You're clearly in critical condition and not thinking right.â
Blood only sputtered out as you attempted to speak, coughing and sniffling.
âPlease⊠Believe me.â
He nodded, and although sceptical, Hisagi would never question you.
âWe can worry about that later. Letâs head back quickly.â
Short, scruffed hair swayed in the wind, weaving a melody with its inky strands in the moisture of the night sky. The man beside you prayed for the hollow exorcised by his ZanpakutĆ, blessing its soul.
You turned to your companion, Hisagi Shuuhei, as he opened the gate to the Soul Society swiftly by effortlessly swaying his hands to open the Senkaimon.Â
An arm extended around your shoulders, and you reciprocated by clutching onto the tattered fabric of your friend, the other hand moving to press onto the gash on your side.Â
Dusting yourself off, you trudged once more into the Soul society and looked solemnly towards your comrade.
âHisagi, your efforts are truly unwavered even as just a novice reaper⊠I admire you.â
The raven haired man turned to you, scoffing and tucking his arms into his chest.Â
âThe same goes to you. Couldnât have done it without my fellow Shishi. You did well weakening it.âÂ
You chuckled, shaking your head from side to side, the brief mirth erupted in your chest quickly dissipating as you realised what was to come.Â
âI donât know how I couldnât defeat a simple hollow⊠You have to believe me when I say that I really donât think it was normal. It wielded a sword.â
Shuuhei hushed you, telling you to rest as he helped carry you to the 4th Division for healing.
âI believe you. I do. Iâm sure thereâs some rational explanation.â
Hisagi could feel the fear course throughout you, a sinister feeling of dread sinking in your stomach as you feared what was to come.
Ë âŠ â§âË â
You managed to muster out a grateful smile to Shuuhei before he left you in Unohanaâs care, and you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to recover.
Another shameful slash onto your royal name. An esteemed failure, you were. Had you really failed in such a pitiful battle against a weak Hollow again? Were you even worthy of the ShihĆin name? The name of warriors, the ultimate marker of strength and courage in the Soul Society.
Something you were clearly not. The ZanpakutĆ wielded in your grip betrayed you once more, as you failed at another battle against a Hollow. Removal from the Gotei 13? Admonishment of your role? You werenât sure what was to come. Yet all of this seemed minor in your thoughts as compared to the rumination of what your father may say.Â
Hisagi Shuuhei you had met in the Academy, a friend a couple years younger than you. Another stain to your name, having to be saved by a Shinigami younger than you. You should have the experience, yet the sword you held did not wish to align with your rhythm.Â
What did it want from you?
Alone in your bedroom now, you stared up at the ceiling, before turning to painfully look at the sheathed sword lying by your bedside.Â
Often at night as well as now, you found yourself speaking to the essence of your soul reflected in the sleek metal, glistening as it bathed in the moonlight seeping into your room.Â
,, Tell me, my ZanpakutĆ. Is the vigour in my soul not enough for you? Does the human blood in my heart seethe you? Answer me⊠For I have seen many mixed Shinigami blossom⊠Why not me? Why has the name of my family not blessed me like it has to my sister?âÂ
,, What must I do, to imprint the essence of my honour and devotion onto you, my sword? What lacks in my soul⊠What tarnishes my strength⊠Tell me and I will extract it from my veins.â
Ë âŠ â§âË â
The next morning, you were sent for a day of rest, informed to return to the Second division after your break to discuss the results of your first exam.Â
As your mind ruminated on your walk home, you mentally and physically prepared yourself for the berating and degrading words awaiting you.Â
Holding a hand to your heart and whispering your mothers name under your breath, you exhaled deeply and reached your destination. You latched your fingers onto the metal handle and slammed it twice against the Hinoki cypress wood to signify your arrival at the towering doors of the ShihĆin minka.*
A familiar servant greeted you, yet the usual smile present on her face had faded. As expected after that deplorable presentationâŠÂ
Leading you to the common room, you bid a solemn farewell as jovially as you could before you slid open the shoji door in front of you, meticulously as if to not set off your fathers temper any more.Â
In the middle of the empty room, a man with a lean frame and tanned skin sat cross legged, simply swiping his calligraphy brush with strategic and conscientious strokes. A murderous glance greeted you from the tresses of his ivory hair.
You silently kneeled on the tatami of the large room, your irises fixated on the low, wooden table frame and the colour of the ivory hadagi* that contrasted against his tan skin. The glare of your father sent shivers down your spine, as you swallowed the lump forming in your throat and forced it to dissipate.
âByakuya Kuchiki has established his will to marry a commoner and tarnish the purity of his noble bloodline. Itâs a very shameful act and it caused great disgrace to the Kuchiki family, I'm sure youâve heard.â
Your eyes simply fixated on the tatami floor beneath you, nodding cautiously as your knuckles turned white from clutching the pant legs of your shihakushĆ harshly.
âHave you heard of the Shiba clanâs esteemed son relinquishing his role as a Captain and his Shinigami powers to settle with a Quincy?â
You gulped, afraid of what your father was getting at as you shook your head.
âIt was such a dishonour that the Shiba clan has been removed permanently as one of the Five Noble Families. Such disgrace on such a distinguished name.â
The only sounds that could be heard were the gradually vicious strokes that Chika ShihĆin slashed onto his page, his brush staining the paper so harshly as if he was shedding the blood of his enemies.
He timed each stroke with the rhythm of his words, his movements so fierce they could have cut through the paper if it were not for his impeccable craftsmanship.
âAll of these⊠Stains, slashes, stabs to royal blood. Look how bad they have gotten. We do not even have five noble clans any more due to the incompetency of this youthâŠ
And you.â
Your eyes did not dare to falter from his glare as the pain from his words seared through your heart.
âMy biggest mistake. The illegitimate child of my late wife. You are incapable of being a Soul Reaper and an embarrassment to this family. It is already difficult enough trying to shield your human blood. You have definitely done it this time. What an utter disgrace. A simple hollow is incapable of defeat by your handsâŠâ
âThe route the youth of this generation are weaving will yield devastating results. I will not contribute to this any longer. As of now, I only have one daughter.â
Your body immobilised, before the adrenaline and shock finally slammed against your body and you pushed on your shins to rise and stand up for yourself.
âFather, it was but a simple mistake! You donât understand⊠Please. It had the appearance of a low grade hollow yet its power was unmistakable-â
âYou were saved by a classmate years younger than you. You should have been the one to save him. I have trained you conscientiously and exhaustively in the academy and allowed your Shinigami side to bloom and yet you are still such a disappointment. The impurity of your human blood is embedded permanently onto your sword, Y/N. I cannot allow the epitome of weakness to hold the name of a bloodline of indestructible men.â
âFather, I swear if you had met the hollow you would have known, for it wielded a ZanpakutĆ-â
âAre you making a fool out of me? I refuse to speak to this disgrace anymore. Yoruichi, my one sensible and virtuous daughter. Send her out. Iâm sure you understand my will. A sutra in a horse's ear*, it was to try and raise herâŠâÂ
You looked frantically at your sister behind you, the model of your life leaning on the doorframe you entered from. Her golden irises did not caress yours with a gaze of softness, instead replaced by complacency and dissatisfaction. A strike of lightning so wretched it could have been aimed towards your soul by Zeus' spear himself penetrated your being as you perceived the dullness of her eyes and sudden grip on her weapon.
You retracted your steps slowly backwards as you creaked in a small yet fearless voice.
âSister⊠Stop⊠Donât do this.âÂ
Both of your hands were snatched by hers, and you cried for freedom in desperation. Her touch was not tender, nor one of a dear sibling. It was the searing touch of a thousand suns enclosing into a supernova, exterminating the entire universe with its flames. The genesis of a newfound resentment catalysed in your heart from the display of wretched impudence towards her own sister.
âWhat are you doing?!â
You choked on your sobs as you protested against the utter agony you were being burnt alive in.
âQuiet yourself. You know that this must be done.â
âYouâre just going to kick me out without listening to a word of what even occurred?!â
Yoruichi halted her hastened steps suddenly, causing you to stumble over your feet on the tatami underneath you. She turned her gaze slowly from the shoji door lying at the exit to you, furrowing her plum brows.
âYou are an abomination to this family name and had you any intelligence you would understand you cannot be part of this family any more. We are the saviours, not the ones to be saved. You donât belong in this family.â
âWhat are you talking about?! Family isnât defined by our powers, itâs defined by the love we hold for each other!â
She snatched your wrist with a harder grip this time, latching onto you and swiftly heaving you out of the door, causing you to topple over onto the wooden steps outside of the ShihĆin minka*.Â
âLove is not enough to hold a Noble family together. If that had been true, then the Shiba clan would not have been admonished from their role and Byakuya Kuchiki would not be repenting to his parents every single day for bequeathing himself to a commoner.â
You could taste the salt in your tears as your voice grew hoarse from your insistent begs, to have her love you, to have her embrace you again. To have her forget this all as a nightmare and go back to your normal lives.
âDoes your honour matter more than your sister?!â
âY/N. I will say this once and only once.â
You looked up in trepidation, wobbling and sobbing as you were greeted with a glare of disgust rather than the sweetness you were used to.
âRid yourself of my sight before I tear the name of ShihĆin off of you with your blood.â
And with that, the wooden doors of the manor shut for the last time.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
*memeshii: a japanese saying for a feminine man; like a man who behaves in a way traditionally associated with women *hadagi: yukata-like comfortable cotton garment worn in feudal japan, its like a white undergarment that samurais wore underneath their armour
*a sutra in a horse's ear: a japanese idiom / proverb essentially meaning âa wasted effort.â (a sutra is a buddhist prayer)
*minka: traditional japanese home / mansion associated w feudal japan
I had this sitting in my drafts and i decided to polish it up while i was taking a break from exams. Initially, i was just going to have a flashback and then continue into the current story more but i felt it was more impactful leaving it here. so im sorry for the short length of the chapter !! im still in exams :pÂ
i apologise for not writing about aizen very much in this :c it felt more dynamic just leaving it here. i hope you enjoyed and as always comments and criticisms are very much appreciated!
happy reading!
- sumi
@noirfan12 @hon3ysun
#bleach aizen#bleach tybw#aizen#sosuke aizen#aizen x reader#aizen sosuke x reader#rangiku bleach#enemies to lovers#office romance#hisagi shuuhei#bleach#tybw spoilers#bleach tybw spoilers#eventual smut#eventual romance#aizen fanfic#yoruichi shihoin#yoruichi shihouin#bleach yoruichi#shihouin yoruichi
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Woah a new chapter!! where did that come from... :00
#jules is not an orange#twenty one pilots#tyler joseph#josh dun#skeleton clique#jules arted again#clique art#joshler fan fic#joshler#joshua dun#fanfic#bit of a tw for this chapter for language
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4. shower
wow look it's another chapter!!! like... not that long after the last one, even! honestly I had the first 3 sections of this basically entirely written not long after finishing the last one, but eventually I decided I should probably do literally anything else for a while (hyperfocus is a real dick lol), and so I'm just now getting back to it. I thought this was gonna be on the shorter side, but it's about the same as the last one, around 1.3k! there's a pretty important reveal in this one...
Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioning, infected wounds, (severe) illness. As always, please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag.
[masterlist] [chapter three]
Vanessaâs never been particularly sensitive to scentsâitâs a saving grace, in a mind where too much light or sound or texture can make her feel like sheâs dying. But by the time the guy lying shaking on the seats behind her practically falls out of the taxi in front of her stoop, even sheâs having a hard time with the smell coming off of him. Given how the driver peels away with all his windows down the second she pulls the last scrap of soiled newspaper from his backseat, it probably isnât just her.
She turns back to the guy, for the first time finally alone with him. Sheâs too short to be used to talking down to people, but heâs hunched himself into that weird curled-up position again, so when she speaks it's aimed vaguely toward the top of his head. âOkay. First things first, weâre getting your ass in the shower,â she tells him. âAnd then we can deal with the effects of my questionable life decisions.â She pauses for a moment, considers. âWell. This one, anyway.â
Thereâs no way sheâs getting him in through the front like this. Too many stairs, and too much dirt. The garden door will have to cut it. She motions for him to follow her down the alley, and he unfurls himself just enough to shuffle after her.
As soon as the shadows close in around them, she looks back over her shoulder. When sheâs satisfied that no one can see them, she unclasps the collar from around his neck and tosses it, leash and all, into the garbage.
â
Vanessa canât say sheâs ever been grateful for the fact that her parents are insane enough to have a swimming pool in the basement of their New York fucking brownstone. Quite frankly, she still isnât; they got the fucker installed when she was a kid and she screamed for so many days they finally packed her off to a hotel with her nanny of the week just to shut her up. Which they probably should have done in the first place, given that she was nine and there was a jackhammer in her fucking basement.
What she is grateful for now, though, is that the part of this floor that isnât taken up by the poolâor the hot tub, or the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtubâis a shower stall the size of her literal bedroom. Complete with benches, and removable showerheads, and, sheâs hoping, everything else she could possibly need right now.
âIn here,â she motions, and he drags himself onto the tiles. âIâd offer you the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub, but youâve barely been able to keep your head up all day and the last thing I need is to fucking drown a guy in my basement. Also no offense but youâre literally so dirty right now Iâd have to drain the fucker the second you got in. After this you can have a bath whenever you want, if youâre into that sorta thing, but for right now youâre getting a damn rinse.â
â
Once heâs more or less situated on the built-in shower bench, propped up in the corner in hopes itâll keep him from falling ass over, Vanessa gets to work, still fully clothed down to her chucks on the marble tile. She unhooks a showerhead and aims it at the drain while it warms up. âIs this okay?â she asks, pointing it at his feet, and he flinches sluggishly but doesnât respond either way.
âI donât know what that means, guy.â She tests the water again with her hand. âIt canât be that bad, can it?â she muses out loud. âItâs the same temperature Iâd use for me, and fuck knows Iâm⊠yâknow, picky. So if you want it different you gotta tell me, okay.â
He doesnât tell her shit. But he doesnât flinch too much harder when she moves the stream of water up toward his knees, either, and she figures thatâs the best sheâs gonna get.
She leans over him and focuses the showerhead on his hair. Itâs matted stiff as tree bark, the water barely able to permeate through the layers of filth. âShit, I dunno man, your hairâs got so much crap in it. Not to mention it wouldnât surprise me if that shelter gave you goddamn lice.â She shudders. âMight be better off just cutting it short.â
Thereâs a noise she barely registers as a gasp before his ice-pale eyes fly open and he clutches her arm, quicker than sheâs seen him move by fucking light years. She jerks automatically out of his grip, dropping the showerhead in her alarm, but he fixes her with a lidless, panicky stare and the eye contact is so startling sheâs frozen to the spot. âPleaseâŠâ he wheezes, âdonât.â
âYou fuckinâ what, dude?â
âDonât⊠cut⊠my hair.â
She blinks, astonished. âThatâs the first thing youâve said all fucking day, isnât it?â He doesnât offer another. âChrist. Typical fuckinâ me not to notice.â She huffs quietly. âWell shit, dude, I guess if you give enough of a fuck to speak up about it it can stay. But so help me if I find a single fucking nit in there.â
He whimpers quietly, squeezing his eyes shut, but he doesnât say another word.
â
Vanessa gingerly retrieves the showerhead from where itâs spattering up at the ceiling, along with an oversized lace bath pouf and a mostly-full bottle of body wash sheâs pretty sure is fucking designer. If you could see me now, Mom, she thinks, squirting the gel at his left shoulder, the one closest to her. You⊠well, you probably still wouldnât give a shit.Â
She touches the pouf to his sullied skin as gently as she can, and she knows sheâs not well-coordinated at the best of times but she really doesnât feel like she deserves the choked-off sound he makes or the way he shrinks away from her when she makes contact. âOh cmon, guy, look I know but you gotta let me get this shit off you, thereâs no way itâs not fucking your shit up worse than it already is,â she cajoles, and whatever sheâs said it makes something in his posture go slack and he rolls back toward her, opening himself to her touch. âThanks, uh, I think,â she hedges, and begins to lather him up with slow, concentrative strokes. She flicks the shower back on, sluicing suds and dirt from his skin in equal measure.
"Ohhh, fucking yiiiiikes," Vanessa says softly.
With the first layer of filth washed away, Vanessa can see the far grimmer reality thatâs been hidden underneath. Rows of jagged, infected gashes streak their way across his shoulder to his chest. The skin around them burns an angry red, the wounds themselves all but smothered in sickly whitish-yellow. What narrow swathes of skin remain intact are mottled purple, and now that sheâs touching him, she can tell heâs just⊠way too much hotter than any person should ever be.
She lowers the temperature of the water and keeps washing him, afraid to look but needing to see. Each stroke only reveals more of the same. His chest and left shoulder seem to have gotten most of the worst of it, but there are stripes across his arm, his back, his stomach, deep gouges in his legs. She hasnât tried to touch his face yet, but now that she knows what to look for she thinks she can even see a scratch or several across his cheek, trailing up into his hairline. Jesus fuck.
It all makes a sinister sort of sense now, she thinks: the shallow breathing, the shivers, the near-total lack of response. And here she thought he just had regular rescuee trauma.
âFuck,â she breathes out quietly, as the realization creeps over her like ice.
Thereâs something really, really wrong with this guy.
-
taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7
#whump#pet whump#rescue whump#recovery whump#bbu#box boy universe#vanessa + juniper#disaster caretaker#imperfectly consistent#tw dehumanization#tw conditioning#tw illness#tw injury#tw infection#do I like... need to tag for language?#I know using swears is pretty standard for bbu/pet whump stories#but I also use them kind of a uh. non standard amount.#I kinda feel like vanessa's house needs a tw of its own lmao#I honestly have fun making up all the increasingly ridiculous rich person shit#anyway I've got a decent bit of the next chapter written already (wrote it at some point back when I was working on 2 or 3 tbh)#and that's more or less it for stuff I have fully written out in advance#(from the main storyline at least)#but a lot of the stuff that follows that is stuff I've had in my head for ages#so hopefully it won't be too hard to write out! knock on wood#sometimes the things you think about that much come easily when you finally write them#and sometimes they're nigh on impossible bc you get obsessive with doing them justice#or at least just like. remembering all the ideas you've ever had for them when you finally sit down to write#hello it's me writing a novel in the tags again#anyway I've been falling asleep since somewhere in the middle of proofreading so I should probably wrap this up lol#if you read all this for some reason hi!
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language
first chapter >> last chapter
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Sinking into fear is the bodyâs natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldnât be one that youâd win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs. Â
It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead.Â
You canât feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.
âDonât feel so clever now, huh?â
Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries.Â
âWell?â he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. âGot anythinâ to say?â
You open your mouth but nothing comes out.
âYou a mute, girl? I know you ainât deaf since you heard Iâd been sniffinâ around lookinâ for ya. âLeast Iâm guessinâ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.â He sniffs. âTook me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldnât believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.â
You finally muster up the nerve to speak. âY-youâre making a mistake.âÂ
The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. âIâd try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyinâ just rubs me the wrong way is all.â
âNo, youâyou really donâtââÂ
He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. âNow, I know youâre a slippery little bitch, so Iâll level with you, alright?â Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. âYou make so much as a peepâso much as a fuckinâ whisperâand Iâll shoot. Wink and Iâll shoot. I am dyinâ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.â
Thereâs no point in lying. It mightâve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.
âNow get to steppinâ.â
He doesnât tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesnât so much as glance towards the door before itâs swinging shut behind you.
âRemember,â Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, ânot a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.âÂ
That kills the impulse to shout for help.Â
The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you canât see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile.Â
Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. Youâve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right.Â
The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesnât abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if heâll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him.Â
âMy husbandââ you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. ââHe canâhe can pay you.â
He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. âIâm sure heâd like to, sugar. Jus' ainât sure heâs got the cash to pay your price.â
âAt least let me askââ
At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. âWhat part of shut the fuck up donât you get?â
That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still thereâs so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why hereâwhy now?Â
The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. Itâs almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world.Â
Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, âMorning, Mrs. Priceâ before sweeping by in a hurry.Â
None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a momentâs notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death.Â
Thereâs something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isnât quite happening, like you canât quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like youâre watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesnât resonate within you as real.Â
He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. Youâre less than meat to him, less than human evenâno more than a meal ticket.Â
When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Gravesâ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning.Â
âIf you think I was kiddinâ before, just try me,â he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince.Â
Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someoneâs attention.Â
He doesnât lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy.Â
This far from the center of town, thereâs hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you canât find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then youâre alone again.Â
A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesnât click until heâs several paces away from you, running his hand down his horseâs neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt.Â
âBought the horse off a drunk three towns back,â Graves explains while loading up the horse.
You donât respond, still unsettled. Itâs the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasnât been aimed at you. It wouldnât be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your momentâa moment to scream or run away.
But you donât. You donât scream and you donât run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. Youâve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind.Â
Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you canât stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust?Â
âHow did youââ you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. âI thought youâd left town.â
âYouâdâve liked that, huh?âÂ
You donât answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun.Â
He sighs when you donât rise to the bait, almost pettish. âWedding announcement. I saw it in the paperâby then, Iâd moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethinâ about that bit in the paper about the sheriffâs wife hailing from the east coast didnât sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sureâretrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.â
You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known.Â
(âIn the paper. The county sheriff got hitchedâof course itâd be a story.â)
âTo be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.â He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. âSorta thing youâd read about in a dime novel.â
A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, youâve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin.Â
âIâm not a murderer.â
The look he gives you is withering. âSugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.â
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out.Â
âHe deserved it,â you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest.Â
Graves doesnât even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps.Â
âHe deserved it,â you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you.Â
âThatâs not somethinâ I usually concern myself with,â he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes.Â
Youâre struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would.Â
Itâs the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt.Â
âHe wouldâveâhe wouldâve raped me otherwise. I didnât have a choice.âÂ
At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank.Â
âBetter that than whatâll happen now,â he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.
His glibness shatters whatever hope youâd had left.Â
In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency wonât lead you anywhere because it simply doesnât exist within him. Youâve known men like him beforeâthose more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You shouldâve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter.Â
There wonât be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation youâve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, heâs happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins.Â
How many times do you have to ask yourself if youâre brave enough to do something before you answer?Â
When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you.Â
âAnd here I thought youâd stopped pissinâ me off,â he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it.Â
âWhatâs the point?â you retort, nostrils flaring. âYou either kill me here or I die there.â
You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together.Â
Gravesâ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. âOh, I wonât kill you, sugar. Iâm a better shot than that.â
Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg.Â
âIâm surprised you wonât just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldnât hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?â
Thatâs been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing thatâs kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. Youâd convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldnât bend the rules for anyone, much less you.Â
But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, itâs love. Heâs proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, heâd come running.Â
Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesnât align at all with the man you know. Heâd go to hell and back for you, would rip out a manâs tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear.Â
You meet his eyes, intention set. âIâd rather just ask him.â
Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm.Â
Heâs on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat.Â
âShoulda done this before,â Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away.Â
When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest.Â
âGet your hands offââ you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight theyâre bound. âLet me go, let ME GOââ
He pulls you in close again. âDonât think I wonât tape your fuckinâ mouth shut too,â Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly.Â
âPleaseâ please donât do thisââ you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now.Â
He sighs, long suffering. âLord knows I tried to warn you.â
Despite the threat, Graves doesnât tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You donât have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it.Â
âThere,â he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. âThatâs better. Can finally hear myself think.â
The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesnât apologize for his rough handling.Â
Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified.Â
âSave your tears, sugar,â he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. âYouâll need âem for later.â
The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat.Â
Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. Heâs too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if heâs someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your handsâanything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong.Â
You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town.Â
You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun.Â
The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.
The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves wouldâve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff.Â
âYou never know with men whoâve gotten a taste of married life,â he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. âThey get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Canât be trusted to do the right thing.âÂ
Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that youâre alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man whoâd be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasnât been quite so explicit, itâs apparent in the way he doesnât offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder.Â
The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. Heâd taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didnât matter if you screamed or not. Thatâs what stays your tongue nowâthe creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight.Â
âHow much was the bounty?â you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other.Â
âNow, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ainât you collecting the reward.â
Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. Itâs not like knowing would change anything.Â
The break ends sooner than youâd hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because youâre not far enough away from town that you couldnât still be rescued. Thereâd be more of a chance of John or someone elseâone of his deputies, perhapsâcoming across you out here. But you donât have much of a choice.Â
Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush.Â
The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. Thereâs hardly a cloud in the sky now. Itâd be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. Youâre still damp from riding through the rain earlier.Â
A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place.Â
Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. Itâs impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will.Â
The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot.Â
Graves dismounts his horse about a stoneâs throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property.Â
âShit,â he remarks, sucking his teeth. âA local back in town swore a family still lived here. Donât look like anyoneâs lived here since Abraham.â
Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwellingâs vacancy. Youâve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; itâs common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores.Â
But youâve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldnât be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified.Â
You shake the story from your head. ââŠAre we spending the night here?â you ask tentatively.Â
He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. âDonât go gettinâ any ideas in that head of yours. Jusâ because a manâs gotta rest his eyes, donât mean I gotta give you a peaceful nightâs rest. No, Iâm leavinâ those hands of yours tied.â
Your hopes deflate at that.Â
He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man.Â
The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust.Â
At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You canât imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasnât tried anything untoward so farânot so much as made a licentious remarkâyou donât know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and heâll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you.Â
Itâs enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesnât try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets.Â
One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin.Â
âWell,â Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. âIâm gonna hit the hay.â
âDoâŠdo I get to sleep as well?â
He cocks a brow. âNot much I can do to stop you.â
âItâs just thatâŠâ You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you wonât be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists.Â
Graves scoffs. âYou canât think Iâll just uncuff you âcause we ainât in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.â
âYou could use rope instead?â you suggest.Â
The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons.Â
Finally, he shrugs. âAlright.â
The relief that washes over you is almost palpable.Â
He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut.Â
He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. âI donât usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Donât go tryinâ anythinâ stupid. Iâm gettinâ a good nightâs rest and so help me if you wake me upââ his eyes flash, gray going steely ââyou wonât like the consequences.â
You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat.Â
True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements.Â
You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but youâre far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you canât help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory.Â
Itâs all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that youâre gone. It isnât fair. After everything youâve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward.Â
Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle.Â
Then your eyes drop to your wrists.
The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesnât cut into you the way the metal did.Â
Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesnât snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable.Â
The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That thereâs a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.
Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as theyâll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow.Â
Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat.Â
Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm.Â
When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though.Â
You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know itâs within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out.Â
Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until youâve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet.Â
Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, itâs hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.
Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement.Â
Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Gravesâ sleeping form. He doesnât so much as shift. Itâs another beat before youâre able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel.Â
The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you. Â
The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. Youâre out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right.Â
If you had less strength, youâd fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once.Â
The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that youâre on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky.Â
Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldnât waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. Theyâve only ever led you off course.Â
The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, heâd starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on.Â
You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence.Â
âHey there, honey,â you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you arenât a threat. Its nose twitches.
Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.
âI wonât hurt you. I promise.â You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words.Â
You arenât John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.
It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door. Â
The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb.Â
Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Gravesâ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged.Â
âHey!â Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. âGet back here!â
Thereâs no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didnât exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you.Â
All you can do is run.
The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You donât have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where youâre goingâjust away from him. Youâd jump off a cliff if you came across one.Â
Heâs close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then itâs too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow.Â
You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs.Â
Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth.Â
âInsufferable bitch,â Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken.Â
Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face.Â
âPleaseââ you beg, blood dripping from your split lip.Â
âKnew I shouldnâta trusted youâconniving little cuntâcâmere now, get upââ
He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body.Â
Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you canât believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden.Â
âAh, hell, I didnât mean to do that,â he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. âAlright, sugar, one secondâIâll pop that back in.â
âNonononoââ you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words.Â
The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.
âYouâŠbastardâŠâ you gasp.Â
âWouldnâta had to do that if you hadnât run,â he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage.Â
It doesnât stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding.Â
He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. Thereâs no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods.Â
The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. Youâd rattle if someone shook you.Â
âI hate you,â you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. âRot in hell.â
Graves doesnât respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins. Â
No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that youâve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You shouldâve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon.Â
The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow.Â
Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit.Â
âGet up,â a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. âWe got places to be.â
He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he wonât let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that.Â
Thereâs no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him.Â
The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints.Â
The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. Itâs all wastelands and portents. Evil omens.Â
Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves.Â
âCheer up,â Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. âYou should be glad I didnât jusâ shoot you.â
Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing.Â
A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.
"What in the hellâ"
You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.
#this is a long one because it's 2 chapters that i didn't feel like posting separately#but they're separated on ao3 if you wanna go read there#ceil writing#cod x reader#price x reader#john price/reader#john price x reader#price x you#john price x you
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â¶-ÍË àŒâ¶ F*CK THE LIST
â§.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes
[ { SYPNOSIS } ] †A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] †language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] †5.2k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] †jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
ââTHE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.
Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemedâ Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.
This summer was also spent single after youâd gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.
Ah, whatever, thatâs all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and thatâs where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.
And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.
Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no endâ Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because itâs due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.
Or maybe it was the fact that he couldnât see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? Heâd long since labeled it as a crush but that doesnât excuse his journaling.
Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh soundsâ from any pitch thatâs ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell heâd written down.
His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he⊠Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who heâs never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.
Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesnât see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this⊠He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojoâs almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.
Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didnât matter.
On that day, Gojo shouldâve listened to his own warnings. He shouldâve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.
But instead, he only got worse.
â--
Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you heâd found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.
Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lilâ crush⊠Gojo doesnât know how his⊠curiosity got so dark. He doesnât know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasnât exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsessionâ you were an obsession.
A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojoâs heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.
One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesnât remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.
He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldnât understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel youâ to talk to you.
Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you.Â
Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what itâs like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-
Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesnât know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.
So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. Heâd lost it, hadnât he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?
No, this is just his obsession. Heâs not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and handâ maybe thereâs no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someoneâŠ
Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didnât just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about youâŠ
He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.
And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.
His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell heâd just done. There was absolutely no way heâd nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was⊠No, he was losing it-, not even, heâd lost it already.
Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from⊠reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesnât even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.
Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but heâs not a⊠actually, thereâs really no word he could use to describe what heâs not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.
âShit,â Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before heâs standing to his feet and walking over to the door.
The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. Heâs not really about to do this, is he?
âŠ
He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.
âFuckinâ hell,â He whispers. Thereâs no way youâd gotten him this hardâŠ
You and your⊠everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.
âNope, Iâm not doinâ this shit,â He whispered. He canât jerk off to some girl he doesnât even know. He shouldnât.
Itâd be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and thereâd be no issue. But when youâre his friendâs friend⊠itâd be so weird of him to do so.
Even if you have the prettiest face heâs ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wearâ and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-
Gojoâs jaw drops a little, âOh fuck,â His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.
He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.
Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.
What would anyone think if they found him like thisâŠ
One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldnât do this. This is wrong-
A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and heâs jerking himself off without second thought. âFuuck,â He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.
His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?
Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cockâ already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?
Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?
Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him tilâ heâs the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.
He wonders if youâd want him to talk you through it. Or if youâd talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, heâd consider himself a complete slut for you. Heâd do whatever you wanted him to.
Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. âFuck, fuck-,â He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. âFuck me,â Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.
Youâd probably praise him, wouldnât you? Tell him how good heâs doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe youâd do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.
Gojoâs eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-
Heâs cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesnât even know why that turned him on so much, heâs never been into that kinda thing before but when itâs you, shit⊠he canât even control himself.
Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesnât go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but itâs much too late to care.
The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then heâs thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.
Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.
He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. Heâd treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure thereâs always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.
By that point, heâs chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cumâ all over that same picture heâd been staring at.
Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.
It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess heâd made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it awayâ telling himself heâd never do that again.
â---
Although, his little declaration didnât last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on thatâs not you.
Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?
With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojoâs opinion but he didnât mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.
Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojoâs watchâ an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.
By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.
Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.
For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didnât question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.
Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).
Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brotherâ only that heâs a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.
Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didnât put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since heâd seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.
As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which heâd finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.
On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that heâd finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesnât really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after todayâ heâd grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you.Â
Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.
His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.
With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.
That may have been what his last straw wasâ the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high heâs had himself on ever since his obsession was born.
Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.
Of course, as soon as he tells himself heâs gonna clean up his act and do whatâs right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.
Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.
â-
After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojoâs front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.
That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see.Â
That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.
Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.
Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, heâs made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.
Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasnât allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didnât understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.
Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojoâ something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.
Sukuna raises a brow, âFucks wrong with you?â
âGotta use the bathroom,â Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.
The pink-haired man tilts his head, âThen go use the bathroom? Iâm not gonna leave without paying you so relax.â
Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction couldâve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.
Now, Sukuna doesnât consider himself to be a nosy personâ he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojoâs concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yujiâs babysitter so Sukuna didnât see much interesting about the guy.
That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojoâs apartment. Sukunaâs eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojoâs apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.
Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they hadâ Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One couldâve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.
With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasnât a book at all. It was a journal.
Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if heâd find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Yâknow, something to get a laugh out of.
The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather⊠creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-
Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojoâs never spoken to you.
At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and⊠entertained.
So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukunaâs ears, he doesnât even flinch or attempt to act like he wasnât looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.
It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.
Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, âWhat-â
âMy my, what a fucking pervert you are,â Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. âThis is disgusting, really. I mean,â Sukuna glances back down and smiles, âYou love this woman and youâve never even spoken to her?â
All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, âI-â
âAnd you fantasize about fucking her quite often,â Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, âI can see why but shit⊠Youâre a fuckinâ weirdo.â
âYou-,â Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, â...You can see why? The hell does that mean-â
âSheâs sexy, I get it. I see the lilâ pictures of her youâve put in here,â Sukuna comments nonchalantly, âAnd yet, what I donât get is this uh,â He clicks his tongue and smirks, âObsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? ThatâsâŠâ He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo canât quite read.
Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, âI know itâs weird, I⊠I told myself Iâm going to stop-â
âWhen?â Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, âWhen youâve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment youâve created?â He questions the man almost as if heâs speaking from⊠experience.
âW-What?â Gojoâs brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, âNo, I-â
âWould you tell her how youâve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?â The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.
âI havenât been stalking her, I just-â
Sukuna looks down at the open page, ââI especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.â What sane man writes this shit about a woman heâs never spoken to, huh?â
âSukuna justâŠâ Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, âJust pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-â
âAht aht,â Sukunaâs quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, âDid you really think I wouldnât keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.â
For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasnât exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he shouldâve never left it on the counter.Â
He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, â...Are you gonna tell her?â
âAm I gonna tell her?â Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, âHa! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, Iâm not gonna tell her.â
Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, âThank fuck-â
âYou are,â Sukuna states.
And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.
It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.
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tags 1/4; @lavnederr @stopmila @chelsea14 @hillmiaxoxo @choso-enthusiast
@chososdisciple @suguruologist @mitzkooni @annananamin @jakeywon
@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring
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@deljojeisbackagain @heeheeswifey @s-kateboardcat @kaalyomi @rilxigh
@win2xsgf @diana4l @angelsleepinggurl @aselvaticotaku @livvyluvsyouu
@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now
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@chosomi @gentle-roxyboo @teonawrites @interludered @wannabeotaku
@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns
#f*ck the list#fuck the list#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x reader#choso x reader#sukuna x reader#gojo satoru x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#choso kamo x reader#smut fic#jjk smut#gojo smut#choso smut#ftl!masterlist#the f*ck list#tfl!sequel#k!masterlists#anime smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you smut#gojo#gojo satoru#jjk gojo
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A slip of the tongue
synopsis:Â as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~
pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader
tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor
word count: 3.7k+ words
a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!
Here is the second part btw
Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.
"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."
Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.
All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said âNeeds to be examined more thoroughlyâ. Though come to think of it, itâs pretty illogical.
Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.
But itâs for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.
Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.
â...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one theyâll claw at, since itâs a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,â the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee youâve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.
When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice heâs just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and itâs not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.
"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"
Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.
âWhy would I be worried?â He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. âItâs just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness youâll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.â
âSo you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?â Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark youâve made for him and closing the volume heâs been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.
âScribe isnât required to attend. Besides-â
âYeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,â you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasnât there before. It actually manages to shut him up. âAs my husband, as my support, are you going to come?â
The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course heâd want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.
He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesnât give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.
âWait- Dear, I will come,â at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. âI promise, Iâll be there.â
âI thought you didnât like to be around idiots the whole day,â you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously youâd want to have your husband be there to share it with you.
Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.
âThat is correct. However, you are not one of them,â he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. âBesides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then Iâll be more than happy to be there for you.â
You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. Itâs as your frown softens, he knows youâve found what youâve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.
âOh Archons, AlhaithamâŠâ You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. âWeâve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.â
âMaybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,â his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.
âYeah, yeah⊠But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as itâs sincere, I am grateful.â
âIt is sincere,â he says with emphasis. âYou know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.
Or rather realizing when an apology is due.
You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.
âEven though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.â
âOf course you are,â he rolls his eyes, but you know itâs playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. âI guess itâs deserved.â
âDonât worry, he wonât be glaring at you murderously. Much.â
Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so heâll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesnât mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.
âIâll trust you on that,â he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your âgirlish talkâ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. Itâs quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while heâs the main focus of the conversation.
Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didnât sign up to be a marriage counselor, heâs never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.
Or, just like tonight, simply be âyour girlâ to chat with.
Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their⊠loquacious canary-like-therapist.
Only when itâs close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kavehâs temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.
âWhat?â Unsurprisingly it's the blondeâs voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.
âDarling, letâs go to bed,â he calls for you softly.Â
Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband canât help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.
âSure, letâs go. Itâs quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,â you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.
The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.
âYou know I will come, right?â The man suddenly asks you, as youâre fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.
âYes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.â
âI could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!â He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.
âOh, shut it, or I might get mad again,â but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.
âOkay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?â
At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar canât place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.
âActually you can. Iâd like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.â
And thatâs it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldnât go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge.Â
âOf course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.â
Even if the mornings are not Alhaithamâs forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.
âThank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-â
âNot tonight. You need sleep,â to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.
âGood night, Alhaitham.â
âGood night, Y/n.â
True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He canât help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.
âMmm⊠If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,â your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his âAlhaitham for anyone else but his wifeâ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior heâs been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he shouldâve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-
âAre you overthinking again?âÂ
Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.
âYou know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?â
Words canât describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like heâll never be able to express it fully.
âRight. Shower is all yours. Also,â he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, âgood morning.â
Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.
âMorning, Haitham.â
With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesnât deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someoneâs partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.
He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when itâs his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesnât care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.
He wants you to know that itâs mutual.
That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.
You are absolutely gorgeous.
His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.
You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.
His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.
But your voice snaps him out of it.
"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.
Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan.Â
The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?
"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the showerâŠ"
Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.
"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."
You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.
"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into itâŠ
"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it.Â
Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.
"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"
And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.
It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x fem!reader#alhaitham#genshin impact fluff
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Stranger | Chapter 1
Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]
Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.
TW: none (for now)
Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.
The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.
Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.
"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.
You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.
"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.
You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.
"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.
You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.
You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.
"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.
Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.
The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."
You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.
"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."
You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.
The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.
You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.
"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."
You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.
"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."
The word almost knocks the breath out of you.
You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.
You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.
"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."
"Of course," you reply coldly.
"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."
"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.
You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.
"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.
Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."
Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.
You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.
You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.
Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.
The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.
"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."
A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.
He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.
"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"
You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."
"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."
Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.
"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."
"I would not miss it, dear Baron."
Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]
#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha smut#dune#dune part two#house harkonnen#house atreides#leto atreides#lady jessica#paul atreides#baron vladimir harkonnen#duke leto atreides#austin butler#jessica atreides#space-mango-company#fic: stranger
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FATHERHOOD pt.1
TW: anakin being a dad; this part is shorter, prepare for sec part that is wayy longer, also I purposely haven't named the child, basing on the assumption that it could be easier to read (just feel free to name him however you want)
Being a dad was one of Anakin's favorite jobs, but also the most exhausting one. Yet, he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He loved taking care of his little buddy, watching time slip through his fingers and witnessing his growth each day.
Despite this, there was an odd ache in his chest. It was a mix of pride and a sharp feeling of acknowledgment that his son was growing. Each new chapter brought different responsibilities, but also required letting go of those he once had, which he shockingly found missing
However, Anakin tried not to overthink it too much. Growing was a natural part of a human life, and it was something that happened all the time. He had no power to change it, and honestly, he preferred it that way. A little..just a tiny bit
His parenting methods were.. unusual to say the least. He often acted silly with his little boy, engaging in all sorts of playful activities together. In addition, Anakin pretended to understand the toddler's gibberish language, often having one-sided conversations that left others baffled. He claimed he understood his son perfectly and jokingly suggested that you should take some serious baby-talk classes.
Anakin, being a Force-sensitive individual, also didn't shy away from using his powers to entertain his son. For example, when the child would demand his attention while Anakin was relaxing on the couch, longing for the toddler's nap time to arrive so he could catch a break or spend some quality time with you, he would lift him off the ground with the use of the Force, eliciting giggles and shrieks from the child.
As time went on, you began to notice how Anakin and your son had become a dynamic duo. They shared similar facial expressions, curly locks, and identical blue eyes. Their father-son bond was truly a heartwarming sight.
Anakin had a charming habit of buying clothes that matched not just his and the boy's outfits, but also yours. This was particularly noticeable during Halloween;
You couldn't help but giggle as Anakin stepped into the kitchen. A smile spread across your face as you set your eyes on him, carrying the little boy on his hip.
Anakin was dressed as Linguini from Ratatouille, while the toddler adorably donned a Remy costume. His chubby cheeks puffed up as he clung to his father, making the sight irresistibly charming. It was, without a doubt, the cutest thing you had ever seen today
"What do you think? Pretty adorable, right?" Anakin asked, a proud smile lighting up his face.
You pointed to the little one, a playful tone in your voice. "Him? Absolutely."
Anakin feigned offense, narrowing his brows. "Hey, hey, hey... what about me? I put some serious effort into this costume, you know," he protested.
You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his expression. "You're both cute," you reassured him with a grin.
Anakin smiled, his eyes showing a hint of satisfaction at your confession. His hand gently gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. He paused for a moment, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just cute? Not unbelievably charming and irresistible?" he asked, feigning mock offense.
A huge smile spread across your face as you replied, "Whatever you want to hear."
Anakin chuckled, his sly smirk growing wider as his gaze moved to your lips. "Oh, I know exactly what I want to hear," he stated, a hint of arrogance in his tone. "I want to hear you say that I look insanely handsome, irresistible, and devastatingly attractive in my Linguini costume."
You raised an eyebrow, a playful retort slipping past your lips. "Someone's a bit too full of themselves," you commented, unable to hide a smile. Meanwhile, your little son wriggled in Anakin's arms, reaching out to playfully pull on his curly locks.
"Ow, Remy," Anakin winced as the small boy's tiny hand tugged at his hair. He gently pried the little limb away. "Now, c'mon," he continued, a smirk still lingering. "If you're too shy to admit the truth, then at least wear this." With that, he produced a neatly folded costume, holding it up for you to see.
"No, Ani, I have toâ" you began to protest, but he swiftly cut you off, his expression firm and unrelenting.
"No buts," he asserted. "You're coming with us, sweetheart. That's final. I'm not taking no for an answer. We're going out as a family, and that includes you." He held up the costume "We need you, Colette."
You sighed in defeat, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Fine..."
TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @erosmutt @emmaloo21 @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt
(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know đ)
#bunny's work#anakin#anakin skywalker#hayden christensen#star wars#anakin skywalker fanfiction#sweet ani <3#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker fanfic#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker fic#anakin skywalker fluff#:haydennation#hayden christensen fanfiction#haydenchristensen#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen fluff#hayden christensen fic#darth vader#star wars darth vader#darth vader x y/n
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The 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide!
The 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide is a coding guide for the SugarCube format of Twine. It is meant as an alternative to the SugarCube documentation, with further explanations, interactive examples, and organised by difficulty. The goal of this guide is to make the learning curve for new SugarCube user less steep, and provide a comprehensive and wide look over the format.
VIEW / DOWNLOAD THE GUIDE!!!!
The Guide is compartmentalised in (currently) four categories:
THE BASICS or the absolute basics to start with SugarCube. No need for extra knowledge. Just the base needed to make something.
THE BASICS + adding interactivity, and creating a fully rounded IF game May require a bit of CSS knowledge (formatting rules)
INTERMEDIATE MODE adding more customisation and complex code Will probably require some CSS knowledge, and maybe some JavaScript
ADVANCE USE the most complex macros and APIs Will surely require some JavaScript/jQuery knowledge
Note: The Advanced Use includes all the APIs, macros, and methods not covered by the previous categories. This includes code requiring very advance knowledge of JavaScript/jQuery to be used properly.
Each category explains many aspects of the format, tailored to a specific level of the user. More simpler explanations and examples are available in earlier chapters, compared to the later ones.
If something is unclear, you found a mistake, you would like more examples in the guide, or would like a feature covered, let me know!
The Guide currently covers all macros (as of SugarCube v.2.37.3), all functions and methods, and APIs. It touches upon the use of HTML, CSS, JavaScript and jQuery, when relevant. It also discusses aspects of accessibility.
The Guides also provides a list of further resources, for the different coding languages.
The Guide is available in a downloadable form for offline view:
HTML file that can be opened in Twine
.tw file that can be opened in Twine
source code, separating the chapters, .js and .css files
GITHUB REPO | RAISE AN ISSUE | TWINE RESOURCES TWEEGOÂ | TEMPLATES | CSCRIPT 2 SG GUIDE
TwineÂź is an âan open-source tool for telling interactive, non-linear storiesâ originally created by Chris Klimas maintained in several different repositories (Twinery.org). Twine is also a registered trademark of the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation.
SugarCube is a free (gratis and libre) coding format for Twine/Twee created and maintained by TME.
VIEW / DOWNLOAD THE GUIDE!!!!
As of this release (v2.0.0), it is up to date with the version 2.37.3. If you are looking for the guide covering SugarCube 2.36.1, you can find it on my GitHub.
Note: the Guide is now complete. There won't be further substantial updates.
#the 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide#template#templates#guide#coding in twine#twine#coding#HTML#JavaScript#CSS#macros#interactive fiction#sugarcube#interactive games#k thanks. i don't need any more reminders that sugarcube update and that I NEED TO UPDATE MY RESOURCES#i KNOW#manonamora
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Who's that girl?
Chapter 1: Whoâs That Girl?
Wade and Logan are looking for a new roommate. Enters Y/N. How bad could it be?
logan howlett x reader
TW: language, does Deadpool & Wolverine count as a warning?, mentions of dark backgrounds sometimes.
A/N: hello everyone! this is it (I'm so nervous right now), the New Girl AU of my dreams, I hope I'm not going to disappoint you with that series. I'll try to post one chapter every week (and maybe two if I'm efficient). English is not my first language, I have read this chapter way too many times to acknowledge any new mistakes (sorry in advance), alright it's yours now. see you soon!!
â this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!
Masterlist
Knock knock knock
The sound of her knuckles against the wood echoed louder than she expected, sending a jolt of anxiety through her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, suddenly hyperaware of every breath she took.
Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to calm the nervous energy bubbling inside her. The seconds stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last, as she imagined all the possible ways this could go wrong.
What if they didnât like her? What if she said something stupid? What if-
The click of the door handle snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.Â
Her stomach did a flip as the door swung open with surprising speed, revealing a man with a wide grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wore a bright red t-shirt with some sort of sarcastic slogan on it.
âWell, well, well, if it isnât our potential new roommate!â Wade said, his tone playful as he leaned against the doorframe. âYou must be the brave soul willing to share a living space with me and the grumpy lumberjack inside.â
She opened her mouth to respond, but Wade was already continuing, as if he hadnât noticed -or didnât care- that she hadnât spoken yet. âQuick question before you come in: Ryan Reynolds or Hugh Jackman? Your answer could determine your fate in this apartment.â
Y/N blinked, taken aback by the randomness of the question. âUh⊠Hugh Jackman?â
Wade clutched his chest dramatically. âOuch, right in the ego! But Iâll forgive you, because you seem nice.â He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. âCome on in before Logan gets any more annoyed. Heâs been brooding extra hard today.â
As she stepped inside, she couldnât help but notice that the apartment, while a bit cluttered, had a warm, lived-in feel to it. Her nerves eased a little, but her mind was quick to remind her that this was an interview and that she wasnât living there yet.
âLogan!â Wade called out as he shut the door behind her. âOur guest has arrived, and sheâs team Jackman, so youâre safe for now!â
From somewhere deeper in the apartment, she heard a low, gruff voice grumble in response. Y/N wasnât sure if that was a good thing or not, but she figured sheâd find out soon enough.
Y/N barely had time to take in the surroundings before heavy footsteps signaled Loganâs approach. He emerged from a hallway leading to what she assumed were the bedrooms, his expression as stern as sheâd expected. There was something about the man that made it clear he wasnât someone to be trifled with.
He gave her a quick, assessing look, then turned his attention to Wade. âYou gonna offer her a seat, or just keep standinâ around like an idiot?â
Wade rolled his eyes but grinned. âRelax, peanut. I was getting to it.â He turned to Y/N and gestured toward the couch. âPlease, make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee? A shot of whiskey to calm the nerves?â
âUh, waterâs fine,â she replied, taking a seat on the couch. She couldnât help but notice how the room seemed to reflect the personalities of its inhabitantsâone side neat and organized, the other side a chaotic mix of random objects, comic books, and a few unidentifiable gadgets.
Wade disappeared into the kitchen, and Logan took the opportunity to sit in a chair across from her. His intense gaze made her sit up a little straighter. âSo, why do you wanna live here?â he asked, cutting straight to the point.
Before she could answer, Wade returned with a glass of water and plopped down next to her on the couch, interrupting her thoughts. âYeah, what Logan said. Also, how much weirdness can you handle? Just asking for a friend,â he said, winking as he handed her the glass.
Y/N took the water gratefully, trying to collect herself. âWell,â she began, glancing between the two of them, âI had to move out quite urgently from my apartment, Iâm currently crashing at my colleagues place and I canât afford an apartment for myself in the city... You guys are actually the only people who replied to my application. Which I appreciate, thank you for considering me.â
Wade, on the other hand, was already nodding enthusiastically. âWell, arenât we just the Good Samaritans of the roommate world? Donât worry Y/N, weâve got plenty of space and...â he paused for dramatic effect, ââan unbeatable blend of charm and wit. Right, Logan?â
Logan just rolled his eyes in response, which seemed to amuse Wade even more. âDonât mind him. Heâs actually a big softie once you get past all the grumbling and scowling.â
âKeep talking, Wade, and youâll be finding a new place to live,â Logan said, his tone deadpan but with a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Y/N smiled, feeling the tension in her chest ease slightly. Maybe this wouldnât be so bad after all. She could already see how living with these two would never be dull.
Logan rolled his eyes but didnât argue. Instead, he focused on Y/N again. âSo, youâre in a tight spot. What about work? You able to hold your own with rent, or do we need to worry about you bailing?â
âYes,â Y/N confirmed. âI teach in high school. Itâs a steady job, so I can definitely cover my share of the rent. Itâs just finding an affordable place thatâs been the problem.â
Wade grinned, clearly pleased. âSee? Told you sheâs a responsible one. Just so you know, Logan teaches too. In a special school for special kids or something like that-â
Logan interrupted, âItâs an organisation for kids who canât go to normal school-â
âYeah, yeah, yeah, and I work in a bar. And I do gigs on some nights because Iâm funny as fuck. We could use some fresh energy around here. Between Loganâs brooding and my, well, awesomeness, youâd be the perfect balance.â
Logan shot Wade a look but then turned back to Y/N. âAs long as you can keep up with us and donât cause trouble, youâre good with me.â
Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. âThank you. I wonât let you down.â
Wade raised his glass in a mock toast. âWelcome to the madhouse, Y/N. Just remember, if things get too crazy, youâre always free to join me on a spontaneous road trip. Logan secretly loves those.â
âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves, bub.â Logan muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.
Y/N couldnât help but smile too, feeling more at ease. This might just work out after all.
âAlright then, when would be a good time for me to move in?â
âWe already have a spare key for you so, whenever really.â
âOkay. Okay. Wow, this is happening. You have no idea how anxious Iâve been feeling for the past few days because of all of this, so, really, thank you so much.â
The two men smiled at her. â Weâre as happy as you!â Wade declared, grinning from ear to ear.
She left the apartment after a while, thanking all the gods out there for this opportunity. She had no idea what would have happened if the answer had been negative. She didnât want to think about it, preferring thinking about how she would decorate her room and settle down in this new place with those two guys. She knew she was in for an adventure.
____
Logan stared at the laptop screen. Y/Nâs application was pulled up, and he read through it for the third time. High school teacher, praised by students and colleagues alike, with glowing references and a bright, friendly photo attached. On paper, she was perfect. Too perfect.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his beard. âI know we donât have a choice anymore but, » he pointed at the application on the screen. â Too nice for us.â
Wade was lounging on the couch nearby, flipping through channels on the TV. He glanced over, an easy grin spreading across his face. âWhatâs that supposed to mean? Nice is good. We could use a little nice around here. Plus, itâs done, we gave her the keys.â
He frowned, closing the laptop with a snap. âI know. But weâre not exactly⊠fucking normal. Youâve got your gigs, your⊠nightlife. Iâm not exactly Mr. Sunshine either. What if she canât handle it?â
Wade chuckled, tossing the remote aside. âLogan, peanut, buddyâŠ2008 sexiest man alive look-alike-â
Logan cut him, âQuit it.â
Wade continued. âYouâre overthinking this. Sheâs a teacher, right? Sheâs probably seen it allâteenagers are practically mini versions of us, minus the PTSD and questionable life choices. Plus, she applied to live with us, so she knows what sheâs getting into.â
Logan didnât look convinced. âYeah, but what if she doesnât? Our lives arenât exactly easy to mix with someone like her.â
Wade rolled his eyes and got up from the couch, walking over to where Logan sat. âLook, youâre worried because you think weâll scare her off. But maybe sheâs exactly what we need to lighten this place up. Besides, we already chose her soâŠQuit it.â
Logan let out a reluctant sigh. âOkay.â
Wade patted the manâs shoulder. âThatâs my man!â
He didn't stop patting Loganâs shoulder, his hand slowly lowering to his bicep and squeezing it âNow, thatâs one of the reason why sheâll prefer you-â Logan immediately slapped his hand away and got up from his chair, Wade flinching and screaming in fear in the process.
An adventure, that was for sure.
XXX
#fanfiction#fandom#ao3#logan howlett x reader#deadpool and wolverine#marvel cinematic universe#logan howlett#hugh jackman x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#xmen fanfiction#xmen x reader#wade wilson#deadpool 3#deadpool movies#deadpool#fanfic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool fanfiction
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looking through your eyes + nine
authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....
i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?
if any cw/twâs are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!
cw/tw:Â fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes
song inspo: âlooking through your eyesâ by leann rimes
masterlist
words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)
And I see a girl Who is learning to trust
---Leann Rimes
In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesnât make sense for him to have to explain himself.Â
For him to have to repeat himself.Â
Well, thatâs gone out the window as of recent months, because heâs constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.
Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. âIâve been texting you.â
The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but heâll tackle that another day. âIâm aware.â
The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesnât understand the why behind.Â
Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment sheâs at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. âWell, I would like to talk to you.â
Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. âI bet you would.â
âSeriously?â Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping thatâs all it takes so that he doesnât have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. âItâs about Solana.â
And that is what finally catches Romanâs attention. Heâs quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. âTalk.â She has his full attention. âNow.âÂ
Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Romanâs attention with the simple mention of Solana. Itâs surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself.Â
âWeâre having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my familyâs restaurant tomorrow night.â
âWhat does that have to do with Solana?â
Roman watches her hesitate for a second. âI want to invite her.â
For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesnât immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. âWill Escobar be there?â
Sheâd like to just say no, as itâs highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. âI donât know. You know he pops up at random timesââ
Roman doesnât even need to hear the rest. âMy answer is no.â
She canât be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.
âRomanââ
âWhy the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?â
To be fair, Romanâs relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. Theyâre not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesnât hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.
His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.
Roman wonât have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.
âYou know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass QuĂ© en es mĂĄs macho thing going on, thereâs all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way heâs never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. Thatâs not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.â
Roman isnât too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He wonât give Bayley that much. âWhy should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else thatâs on Bloodline or neutral territory.â
âMy familyâs restaurant is on neutral territory.â Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. âAnd contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solanaâs heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it wouldâŠ.that it would help her feel close to her mom.â
Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayleyâs point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.
He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space thatâs so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He canât see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesnât seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.
Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. âI get where youâre coming from with the safety angle, but Iâll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.â
Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. âYou donât want Solo there.â
On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Soloâs presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solanaâs personal guard.
Bayley doesnât seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. âLike I said, Naomi and I got this.â
Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. Theyâre just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows theyâd be able to keep Solana safe if need be. Itâs that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.
âFine, she can go.â Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, âbut if anything fucking happens to her while sheâs with youââ
âIt wonât,â Bayley vows. âSheâs our friend, and sheâs family to Naomi. We look out for each other.â
Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while heâd never fucking tell her this, heâs grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.
At his fill of socialization with people he doesnât like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. âIf you donât have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.â
Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so itâs under her breath she mutters, âa true gentleman.â Sheâs halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. âHey, Roman.â
Heâs back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. âWhat?â
With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, âthank you.â Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.
________
âMan, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.â Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. âWhere she been at all our lives?â
Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, itâs shared with a wife who really isnât an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog whoâs currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.
âWhy are yaâll always fucking over here?â Romanâs question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesnât feel like yelling at to shut up.Â
She might piss herself in fear or something.
âCome on,â he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. âMaking all that damn noise for nothing.â
Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.
Jimmy is the first to notice this. âI think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.â
Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solanaâs latest dish is that sheâs made for them. âShe know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?â
âMan, the dog canât speak.â
âYou know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.â
Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. Heâs not sure why sheâs downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but sheâs already here now, so no sense in transporting her.Â
Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him.Â
âI still canât believe we werenât invited.â
âI can get why they didnât invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.â
Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. âYou know Nicki donât fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.â
âCause sheâs fucking psychotic.â Roman has zero issues with his cousinâs wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. Itâs for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.
âOnce again, Big Dog, you ainât gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.â
Roman is as unfazed by Jeyâs threat as Dulce is.Â
âI gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.â That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny.Â
âLook, that was during a rough patch. Thatâs all.â
âDamn bruh, yaâll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.â
âSo what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?â Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. âYaâll just got the perfect marriage, right?â
âOf course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!â
Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.
Roman: You almost ready?
Solanaâs reply comes in less than five minutes later.
Solana: Just aboutâŠ..is Dulce by you?
Roman: Yeah. SleepingâŠ.as always.
Solana: LolâŠ.sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.
Roman: Itâs fine.
Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.
Heâs not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine sheâs reading too much into his text.
Solana: Okay....I can come now?
Solana: I just have to put my shoes onâŠ.
Roman: Iâll come to you.
Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solanaâs room and thatâll be it for the night.Â
One down.
Two more to get rid of.
Roman is standing outside of Solanaâs door ready to knock when itâs ripped open, and heâs met with an instantly smiling Naomi.Â
Sheâs smiling at the damn dog, of course.
âThere you are, Dulce.â Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesnât get it, but itâs not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, âIâm gonna take her out to pee.â
Bayley shouts from inside the room, âIâll come with you.â
Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.
Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, âtell her she looks nice.â
Thatâs a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.
âGuys, are you sure I should wearââ Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. âOh, sorry, I thoughtânever mind.â
Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different.Â
Solana is fucking stunning.
Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. Itâs more low cut in the front than he knows sheâs probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. Thereâs a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, heâd imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasnât seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red.Â
Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, heâs tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because thereâs not a single doubt in his mind that sheâll turn heads.
She always does.Â
Finally, heâs able to get words to leave his mouth that arenât as filthy as the thoughts heâs trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. âJesus, you look amazing.â
Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where heâd completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.
Granted, itâs always been there.Â
Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, itâs increased that difficulty exponentially.Â
âThank you.â The makeup on Solanaâs cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Romanâs unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. âIs itâŠ.is it too much?âÂ
Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isnât needed nor should she ever look for it. âDo you think it is?â
âI always think itâs too much.â Itâs an honest answer, one thatâs followed up with a caveat heâs surprised but pleased to hear. âButâŠ.but, I do like it.â
âThen thatâs all that matters.â
Solanaâs smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when sheâs smiling. âLookâŠ.â Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. âYou need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?âÂ
She nods and asks. âWhat about Solo? Isnâtâisnât that his job?â
Itâs not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesnât tense under his touch. âYouâre my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I canât.â
She looks like sheâs trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. âDoâdo you want to come with us?â Solanaâs hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. âI could talk to Bayley.â
Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isnât necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesnât know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayleyâsheâs not entirely awfulâis not appealing as well. That doesnât stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.
Heâs tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours.Â
Heâll do it for her.Â
But, thereâs another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesnât include him. Itâll be good for her.
âNo.â Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. âNot my scene. Too many people.â Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He wonât do that to her. Wonâtâ risk ruining her night. âGo. Have a good time.â Again, for good measure, he reminds, âbut I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.â
She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, âokay.â She then adds on, âI already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so oftenâŠ.â
âI got it.â Heâd much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. Sheâs doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but thatâs not surprising. Itâs obvious how much she loves the puppy. âYou should be back by midnight, though.â
Itâs more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. Heâs not going to dictate what she does and doesnïżœïżœïżœt do. Sheâs had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later sheâs out, the riskier things can get.
After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.
âOf course.â She seems to understand this clearly, but heâd also bet thatâs her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist.Â
She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesnât tense under his touch. Thatâs happening less and less, it seems.Â
He likes that.Â
âText me when you get there.â
She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. âI will.â Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room.Â
Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didnât trust Bayley and Naomiâs abilities.Â
Theyâd defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.
That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy.Â
She deserves that much. Â
Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present.Â
âAyo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!â
________
Roman needs a new house.
Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.
That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.
Roman just knew that when the ladies left, theyâd leave too. But no, thatâs too good to be true, because theyâve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.
Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room.Â
And as always with them, theyâve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.
He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. Itâs especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again.Â
âWait. I know that song,â Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that itâs in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. âThat lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.â
Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. âWhat happened to her?â
âMan, she moved.â Jey shrugs. âShe went to go be a freak in Cali.âÂ
Finally, Roman snaps. âWould yaâll use some damn headphones or something?â
Jimmy is the first to speak. âYou might want to watch this, Uce.â
âI donât care.â
Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousinâs attention. âYeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?â
At that, Roman lifts his gaze.
Jimmy smirks knowingly. âNaomi sent some videos. Check your phone.â
That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasnât from Solana.Â
Heâd selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldnât be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasnât checked it since she text that theyâd made it to the restaurant.
Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.
Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I donât know none of these dances đ© I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.
Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but itâs not going well lmao
Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what heâd guess are traditional Hispanic dances. Thereâs even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance theyâre doing, and she looks just as patient as heâs seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.
She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.
He likes that for her. After everything sheâs been through, she deserves all of the happiness.
But, itâs in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousinâs phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.
Itâs a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesnât know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solanaâs hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.
Fuck.Â
Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesnât stop the desire though.
âDamn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.âÂ
âLike water.â
Itâs probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know theyâve gone too far.
And they know it.
Jimmy is instantly on damage control. âI meantâBayleyâyou know, cause sheâsheâs also thick.â
Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. âI think, uh, we shouldâwe should head out.â And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door.Â
It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, âabout time they fucking left.â
Dulce barks in agreement.Â
________
Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana.Â
âArenât you glad you came?â
Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayleyâs mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solanaâs back, reminding in Spanish, âyou must come back and see us again!â
Solana smiles, agreeing, âI will.â She then looks over at Bayley. âIf thatâs okay?â
Bayley waves her off. âAre you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any timeâÂ
Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, âmaybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.â
Bayley chugs back some of her drink. âHell yeah.â
Solana thinks sheâd prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.
Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. âYes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I canât put my hand on it. Iâm sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.â
That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if heâs anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybeâŠmaybe it wonât be so bad.
And maybeâŠmaybe she could ask Roman to come with her. Thatâd make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.
Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solanaâs phone rings.
Roman: You good?
Solana: Yes.Â
She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but itâs also how she feels.
And heâs always telling her to be honest with him.
So she is.Â
Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.
Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately.Â
Roman: Thatâs your world. Not mine.
Roman: Do you not feel safe?
Solana: No, not that. I guessâŠ...Nvm.
Roman: Tell me.
Again, more hesitation, and sheâs not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.
Solana: Idk, I feel better when youâre around.Â
He doesnât reply after that.
Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. âSo how are things going with Roman?â
The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.
Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her.Â
She wasnât lying. She does feel better when sheâs around him. And itâs not even that she feels unsafe currently. Itâs just that he makes her feel safe in general. Thatâs such a foreign concept. One she hasnât experienced in such a long time.Â
If ever.
Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her fatherâs wrath always waiting around the corner.
So while this is new and unfamiliar, itâs also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.
Like he actually cares about her.
Itâs such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems.Â
Heâs never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but thatâs starting to feel less like anything heâs done and more like her own trauma.
TraumaâŠ.
Thatâs also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, sheâs worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And itâs beenâŠ.an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she canât sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.
Itâs been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot.Â
One of the things sheâs really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isnât always true. Especially in the past few months.Â
So, thereâs been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that itâs safe. That sheâs safe.
EspeciallyâŠ.especially with Roman.
Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. Sheâll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if theyâre close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.
Itâs all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort sheâs developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship.Â
She likes it.
She likes him.
âSolana.âÂ
Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed.Â
She clears her throat, finally answering, âummâŠ.good. Itâsâitâs good.â
âHeâs not being an ass to you, is he?â She asks, almost protectively. âI mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.â
Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. âNo. No. Heâhe would never. HeâsâŠ.always nice to me.â
Bayley nearly spits out her drink. âNice?â She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. âAre we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.â
Naomi shrugs. âI mean, she has a point. I donât think Iâve seen him be cruel to her.â
CruelâŠ.Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Romanâs disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.
Bayley sits on Naomiâs point, suddenly sharing to the table, âyou know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.â
Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. âReally?â Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, âhe was probably like that with Samantha too.â
At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.
âNow that is funny. Solana, Roman donât give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.â
Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, âthink about it. Sheâs been around for years, and itâs not her he took down the aisle, soâŠ..â She then adds, âarranged marriage or not.â
The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Niaâs jaw-dropping information.Â
An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her itâs a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but thereâs also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.
Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. âCan Iâcan I tell you guys something?â Nervously, she stipulates, âbut it has to stay between us.â
They look expectedly worried. âSolana, if it has something to do with your safetyââ
âNo, no that.â Solana almost feels confident enough to say that sheâd go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.
âOf course, then.â
âSolana, you can tell us anything.â
And for some reason, she knows this to be true. Itâs why she battles against her trepidation to open up. âItâsâummm. IâŠ.I found out that whenâŠ.when Roman wasâŠ..having sex with Samantha, heâŠ.â Thereâs a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. âHe said my name.â
Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, âholy shit, what?â
Bayley then asks, âwait, how do you know?â
âNia told me.â Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. âShe said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?â
âTiffy.â Bayley rolls her eyes. âMakes sense. That girl canât hold water.â
âI donât get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?â
Naomiâs question makes all the sense, but Solana doesnât really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her.Â
But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.
âYou two havenât slept togetherâŠ..have you?â Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that itâs reached this level of detail.Â
Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That partâŠ..that part she doesnât know if she is ready to discuss.
An ironic thing considering sheâs just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people.Â
The irony.
But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm.Â
âLook, Iâve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but heâs also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two havenât even had sexâŠâŠthereâs something there, Solana.â
âI agree,â Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. âI think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.â
Solana canât deny the fact that itâs getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still canât understand the why.
Just what has she done to deserve him liking her?Â
Maybe itâs not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she canât negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, whoâs known him her whole life, believes that something is there.
âIâm gonna go to the bathroom.â Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasnât expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions.Â
Bayley seems cautious. âWant me to come with you?â
âNo.â The rejection is paired with a kind smile. âIâll just be a few minutes.â
And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that sheâs grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.
Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same.Â
The sameâŠ.
Same.
Even with the makeup and tight little dress, sheâs still the same person. Sheâll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.
Even if Roman does like her, it wonât last.Â
She canât please him.Â
She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.
Sheâs too broken for that.
It brings tears to her eyes.
Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar.Â
Sheâs only had white wine, but white wine isnât enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and itâs nowhere good.Â
Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.
The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, âwhat can I get you?âÂ
Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events sheâd be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.
âVodka and Gin, pâplease.â
________
Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasnât happened between them.
It does bring up a valid question though.
âWasnât the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is thatââ
âYour guess is as good as mine,â Naomi murmurs. âBut, I think we both know itâs obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.â
âI know.â Bayley frowns. âI guess Iâm just surprised Roman of all people has been soâŠ.patient with her.â
âYou and me too.â Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. âHe must really like her.â
âItâs just hard to tell with him. Heâs so damn stoic, butâŠ.I think youâre right. I think she likes him too. Sheâs justâŠ..scared.â Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress sheâs making towards overcoming those fears.
With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. âGet your phone.âÂ
Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, âI know who may know.âÂ
Less than a minute later, Bayleyâs phone dings with a text notification from a new group sheâs in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.
Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?
Bayley: And please be honest.
Bayley quickly ensures. âWeâre not going to tell them what Solana said, right?â
âHell no. We could never betray her trust like that.â Bayley is relieved but also not surprised.Â
Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does.Â
Jey: Man, I think he really like oleâ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I donât think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.
Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didnât last long at all.Â
Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.
Naomi: Except her đ
Jey: Why yaâll ask?
Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just donât want to encourage her to give it a chance if heâs just gonna hurt her. Yaâll know how Roman is.
Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe.Â
Bayley: But, it seems like thatâs not the case with her.
Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too.Â
Jey: I mean they are married soâŠ.
Naomi: It was arranged. That doesnât count.Â
Bayley: Do we know if heâs still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since sheâs been his go-to the past couple years?
Jimmy: I donât think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasnât having it.
Jey: Heâs apparently planning to pay her a lil visitâŠ.with Nia.
Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?
Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.
Naomi: Damn.
Bayley: Thatâs wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me tooâŠ..
Jey: Yaâll really think he about to admit that shit though?
Naomi: No more than she is. Heâs stubborn, and sheâs so insecure.
Jimmy: Yaâll thinking what Iâm thinking? đ
*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*
Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?
Jimmy: Itâs our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!
Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.
Bayley: All the time unless youâre SolanaâŠ.
Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.
Bayley: Youâre not wrong. He is gorgeous. đźâđš
Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.
Naomi: Bae, I love you, but letâs not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but heâs also fine as hell.
Bayley: Thatâs not the only thing said to be bigâŠ..
Naomi: GirlâŠ.
Bayley: They canât all be lying.
Jey: ANYWAYS!
Jey: What if theyâre coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone?Â
Jimmy: đ
Jimmy: Thatâs about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!
Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?
Bayley: A gentle push!
Naomi: Yes!
Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, Iâm not taking the heat for none of yaâll asses. Yaâll gon have to deal with Big Dog.
Jimmy: Then weâll just put Solana in front of us. He canât hurt us then!
Jimmy: SeeâŠ..Iâm smart with this shit. Thatâs why Imma be the brains of this operation.
________
âWhat do you mean sheâs drunk?â
Romanâs night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.
Good.
They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell sheâs all but wasted.Â
âYou were supposed to be watching her.â Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.
Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. âSheâs not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.â
Itâs an excuse, and Roman doesnât do excuses. âWhat happened?â
Naomi answers this time around. âWe donât know.â
âYou donât know?â One. Theyâre lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. Theyâre lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. Theyâre lying, and he wants to know why. âYouâve both got less than a minute to give me the truthââ
âLook, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so Iâm not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you sheâs not in danger.â Bayley is smart. She must know that heâd literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solanaâs safety.Â
âIt was justâŠsome stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.â Naomiâs suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman canât stop thinking about just what she shared with them.Â
Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesnât make sense why she would suddenly share it.
Even with how close she seems to them.
âJust leave.â
Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.
They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how sheâs doing in the morning.
He neither agrees or disagrees. Itâll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is.Â
Once theyâre gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.
âSolana.â Sheâs so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. âI need to get you to bed.â
He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.
Sheâs protesting almost right away. âIâm not tâtired.â
âMaybe not, but you will be tomorrow.â Roman knows sheâs in for one hell of a hangover.
âI donâtâI donât want to sleep.â Sheâs almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. âI justâhave bad dreams andâand youâre justâjust gonna leave once I sleep anywâway.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isnât the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And heâs certain thereâs a lot sheâs probably still keeping in.
She then issues an unexpected accusation. âYouâyouâreâyouâre gonna go be with Samanthaâthatâs who you want.â
Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering heâs been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. Heâs letting her think sheâs safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he canât.
âAfâafter all.â Solana continues, surprising him with her openness thatâs most definitely fueled by her inebriation. âWhyâwhy would you want me?â She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. âWhyâwhy would anyone want me?â
Heâs silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. âIs that really what you think?â Itâs asked in a low voice, and heâs not entirely sure if itâs more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself.Â
She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. âItâs like you said, Iâm mentally uâunstable.â
For a second, Romanâs confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words heâd give anything to take back now.Â
With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. âI was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.â Truthfully, with all sheâs been through, even if she was, he couldnât fault her.
With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.
Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. âIs itâis it true youâyou said my name when you were with Sâsamantha?â
He definitely wasnât expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he wonât lie to her.
âYes.â
Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or himâhe canât really tell. âIâI donât get it.â Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. âSheâs pretty andâandâskinny andâsheâs notâbroken like me.â
That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. âYouâre not broken, Solana.â
âYesâyes, I am. You donâtâyou donât know whatâwhat happened to me.â Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. âI canâtâI canât do whatâwhat she doesâcanâtâgive you tâthat.â
He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. âBabyâŠ.â It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma heâs certain sheâll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. âI donâtââ
âI canâtâI canât becauseââ Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. ââbâbecause they râraped me, and now I donâtâI donât know howâhow to be with anyone.â She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. âI shouldâshould have fâfought h-harderââ
âDonât you ever fucking say that, you hear me?â Romanâs voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he canât fully describe. Itâs heavy as fuck though. âYou were a child, Solana. It wasnât your fault.â
âYou were a kid.â He has to say it again, because thatâs the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. âYou should have been protected, and you werenât, and Iâm going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, Iâll never let anyone ever hurt you again.â
Sheâs clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. âI donâtâI donâtâunderstand wâwhy? Whyâwhy would you do that?â
Roman isnât sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, thereâs very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning.Â
âBecause someone needs to protect you.â Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what heâs saying. âBecause I donât want Samantha.â He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. âI want you.â
And suddenly, itâs so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesnât entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesnât understand. Thereâs a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss thatâs formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossingÂ
She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else heâs ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. âButâbut sheââ
âSheâs not you.â His voice unintentionally softens. âNo oneâs like you.â
Selfishly, he hopes she doesnât remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.
Again, she tries to downplay her worth. âI canâtâI canâtâgive you what you need.â
And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What sheâs referring to.
âI donât need that from you.â Truth be told, he doesnât want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.
He likes having her around him.Â
Sheâs blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, âmy hâhead hurts.â Itâs not an intentional deflection, heâs certain, but itâs appreciated.
This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.
âYou need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.â He eyes her skeptically, asking, âcan you walk?â
He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. âCome here.â He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesnât. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions.Â
Roman doesnât say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesnât think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers.Â
He needs to monitor her tonight, and thatâs easier done with her in his room.
She looks around still confused but doesnât say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, heâs on one knee before her.
âIâm gonna take these off.â He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. âDo you want to change?â
She nods and then adds, âI donât haveâmy clothesâŠ.â
Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. âYou can wear this for tonight.â
She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.
While sheâs changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.
He knows sheâs used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesnât happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulceâs bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.
One night of her sleeping in his room wonât kill him.
Itâs then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup.Â
âI washed my faceâŠ.hope that was oâokay.â
âItâs fine, Solana.â Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in.Â
Heâs again ready to explain that heâll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. Heâll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.
But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, âwill you lay with me?â
Itâs an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.
Romanâs answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what sheâs usually comfortable with.
However, what he doesnât expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.
In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than theyâve ever had, and thereâs not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, sheâd have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.
But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, thatâs not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him.Â
Sheâs looking for comfort.
And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.
Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question.Â
âWhyâwhy are you doing this?â
To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because heâs betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.
âBecauseâbecause I know what itâs like to not have anyone.â Thereâs a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what heâs never once openly discussed with anyone. âBecause I didnât just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. IâI was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.â
Roman doesnât want sympathy, doesnât want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.
The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept.Â
âI didnâtâIâm sorry.â She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, âyou donâtâyou donât have to be alone anymore.â
Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesnât.
He says nothing.
________
Waking up in Romanâs bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, sheâs hit with instant throbbing of her head.
She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.
Where is Roman?
Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.
Solana,
Iâm sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, canât miss. Iâll be back right after.
If not for that, I would have stayed with you.
You most likely wonât remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. Youâre gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. Itâll help.Â
I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine.Â
I also let your job know youâre not coming in today.
Rest.
Roman
Thereâs so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Didâdid they sleep in the same bed?Â
For some reason, thatâs not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesnât know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.
The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.
A switch.
At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesnât remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.
It makes for a confusing story she doesnât really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin.Â
And she goes right back to sleep.
________
Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phoneâs status to Do Not Disturb.
Heâs not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first.Â
Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.
âWhat of the girl?â
This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, itâs when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Romanâs focus is recentered.
âWhat about her?â
Heâs not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didnât expect was the anger thatâs already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as âthe girl.â
Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. âIs she still not pregnant yet? Itâs been almost four months.â
Romanâs jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. âIâm aware of how long itâs been.â
Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. âPerhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctorsââ
âThe hell she will.â
Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, âlanguage, Uce.â
Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when itâs earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.
Heâll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Romanâs birthright to the throne.
Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old manâs head into the table. âAll weâre saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a betterââ
Thatâs when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, itâs an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.
Over his dead fucking body.
Roman shoots up from the chair. âMy wife isnât going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.â
Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. âRoman, pleaseââ
Romanâs not trying to hear that shit from him, though. Heâs not trying to hear shit from anyone.Â
âOur marriage is nobodyâs fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. Weâll share it when we want to.â
Truthfully speaking, this isnât something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.
Thatâs not a priority.Â
âYou may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.â The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but itâs no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. Thatâs an indisputable fact. âDonât fucking forget who made this table what it is today.â
The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.
In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesnât give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. Sheâs his now, and nothing is changing that.Â
Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered.Â
He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.
But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover heâs certain sheâs still battling, so it makes sense sheâs indoors. Itâs when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes sheâs still only wearing his shirt.Â
For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.
âHeyâŠâ
âHey.â Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. âHow you feeling?â
She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. âMy head still kinda hurts, but I guessâthatâs to be expected.â He starts to ask her if sheâs drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but sheâs suddenly pleading with him almost. âPlease donât be upset with Bayley and Naomi. Itâs not their fault.â
To be fair, he hadnât thought about them until now. âThey were supposed to watch you.â
âThey did. IâI got back fine.â She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. Heâll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, itâs the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though.Â
âYou werenât fine last night, Solana.â She was far from it, more emotional than heâs seen her in some time, if ever.Â
Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. âI donâtâI donât remember much of it.â
Heâs thankful for that. For the both of them. âYou were upset.â Itâs not a lie nor is it specific. Itâs just the truth.Â
She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. âWâwhat did I say?â
Roman shakes his head. âIt doesnât matter.â He doesnât like being dismissive towards her, doesnât like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldnât do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.
He doesnât like seeing her upset.
But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, âI told you last night, didnât I?â Roman realizes itâs less a question and more a heavy realization. âThatâthat I was raped. Didnât I?â
Itâs a bit of a loseâlose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didnât have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.
Theyâre both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. âYes.â
âItâs weird. Iââ She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, âIâve beenâIâve been working out of this book for people who wereâŠassaulted like me, and Iâmâat the part where its recommended I tell at least one person becauseâbecause itâs not healthy to keep it to myself.âÂ
Roman knows exactly what book sheâs talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her.Â
âYouâre now the first person Iâve ever told.â Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. Theyâre much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. âI donâtâI donât like talking about it.â
âYou donât have to.â He isnât sure heâd be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable.Â
She nods, almost appreciatively. âThat's why sex isâitâs hard for me.â He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. âAnd itâs notâitâs not like I donât think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.â This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. â IâI have. But, every time I try, I justâI get flashbacks, and I canât.â She ends on an almost whisper, Romanâs stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear.Â
He doesnât like seeing her cry.Â
âYou donât owe me an explanation, Solana.â Not him or anyone else, for that matter.Â
She doesnât say anything for a good minute before asking, âwhat happens now?â
Thatâs a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. Heâs curious though what sheâs specifically referring to. âWhat do you mean?â
Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, âare youâare you gonna send me back to my father?âÂ
Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. âWhy would you ever think I would do that?â
And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. âIâm notânot a virgin, andââ Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. âYouâŠ.you only married me becauseââ
âI donât care about that.â This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. âWhat do you want, Solana?â
He has no idea what sheâs going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death.Â
She seems to really think about his question, think about something heâs certain sheâs never had a lot of.Â
Options.Â
Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. âI want to stay here.â Romanâs unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, âI likeâI like living here.â And in an even smaller voice, she adds, âI like being with you.â
He doesnât say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain itâs because theyâre both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward.Â
Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. âCome here.â
He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but itâs gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.
Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that sheâs trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that sheâs safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.
Mouth the word âsafe.â
Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort.Â
He does his best to reassure her. âRelaxâŠâAnd it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. âIâd never send you back there. Ever.â And thatâs a fucking promise. âYouâll stay here. With me.â
âIâmââ Her voice is less emotional than before. Itâs still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. âIâm supposed to give you an heir. What ifâwhat if people startââ
âIâll take care of it.â And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesnât need to know that.Â
She angles her head up to look at him. âButââÂ
Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. âIâll take care of it.â He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. âAlright?â
Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. Sheâs fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. âIâve got youâŠâ
Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but thereâs nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back.Â
He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that sheâs fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.
Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. Heâs not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Romanâs starting to think that he couldnât let her go.
That he canât.
Even if she wanted to leave.Â
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Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!Fem Reader
Summary: Venus goes on live after rehearsal and lets her fans take a glimpse into what her and Joe's nights together are like.
Chapter 24: Mr. Perfect
#Track9 Masterlist | Main Masterlist
TW: implied smut, language, haters.
WC: about 2k
Part 1 đ€
âËàŹȘ âč â§ïœ„ïŸ: â§ïœ„ïŸ: ê„
@musicbyvenus has started an Instagram Live! Come join!
âHello, all you beautiful people. How are my babes doing tonight? I havenât done this in a hot minute, so be patient with me. I had a really long day and thought the best way to unwind would be for me to unload onto my darling fans.â The woman chuckled to herself while watching the viewer count grow by hundreds per minute.
Tell us all about your day bestie!
How are rehearsals going?
Are you gonna release the set list yet?
Howâs Joe doing?
Whereâs Joe?!?
âWow these are coming in fast. Iâm going to try and answer as many of your questions as possible, but thank you guys for just being here with me. I know I tend to go a bit awol with my public appearances, so I appreciate everyone here. Rehearsals are going great, Iâm very happy with how the show is looking.â
 @MarsOfficial Im expecting a least two Hamilton songs while Iâm in attendanceÂ
âYou always expect so much of me; youâre starting to sound like my mother, Y/Bff.â
@MarsOfficial then maybe you should start listening to me
A light-hearted giggle makes its way into the air as she reads her best friendâs comment. âI always listen to you!â
@MarsOfficial fat liesssss
âY'all listen; the only reason I am in a relationship right now is because Y/Bff and Riana, two of my best friends, literally pushed us together. None of this wouldâve happened without them.â
âWhat wouldnât have happened without who?â A deep voice coming from behind her says.
OMG ITS JOEY
Joe said shit i have to work lol
PLEASE ASK HIM TO STAY
ON GOD HES SO HOT
I DON'T KNOW WHY I expected him to walk in shirtless, but Iâm kinda disappointedÂ
IS HE COMING TO THE LA SHOW???
âI was talking about how we got together.â Y/n peaks behind herself to watch the quarterback snicker while fishing through their kitchen cabinets.
âOh you mean when your friends pretended to be my ex to make you jealous? Yea they were a great help.â Joe rolled his eyes while grabbing a snack and a bottle of water. âIâll have you know, I was fully capable of doing that on my own.â
@Riri.intl24 why is he lying, he had almost two years to make a move and DIDNT
âRiana begs to differ. Can you grab me-â Y/nâs cut off by her own water and snack being dangled in front of her. âThank you.â
WHAT A GENTLEMANÂ
UGH I WANT ONE
IS THAT A CLIFF BAR
Y/n weâre judging you so hard right now
Joe takes a seat next to her but slightly out of camera. âOf course, and tell Riana I was trying to time it right.â
âOk Mr. Time-Is-Of-The-Essence.â She smirked, then turned back to her phone. âWhy are you people roasting my cliff bar?â
@MarsOfficial because you once said it tasted like good dirt then proceeded to inhale one
âIâm going to ignore that. Letâs answer some questions! Yes, Joeyâs going to be at the LA show. I am not releasing the set list, but I do have an announcement regarding it. Iâve decided that my show will be about 2 hours long and each show will have 3-4 different surprise songs. Iâm very excited about that. If yall have been keeping up on X, then youâd know the first showâs theme is âSlumber Partyâ. Unfortunately I canât kick anyone out if they donât dress up-â
ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO PERFORM HAMILTON SONGS?
Is Walk Like This on the Set List
âFantastic.â
THE NERVE
âYou are not anyone, you have to dress up.â She pointed at the man.
YESSS SIS
You should bring him on stage with you!
WALK HIM LIKE A DOG
Joey shook his head and sighed, âI was joking babe, kinda.â
âUh huh sureeee. Whoever asked about Walk Like This, this answer is 100%. I absolutely love that song and the choreo, ugh amazing. I canât wait to perform it.â
What song is Joe most excited for?
What songs will you absolutely NOT be singing?
Is âThe Oneâ on the no list?
âI donât even have to ask him which one he wants to see the most. Joey?â
âCrazy for You.â He smiled.
âSee, heâs extremely predictable.â
scripted
âOk hold on, I also like what you did with Tell Me You Love Me.â He so kindly added.
âWhy thank you kind sir.â
@lahjay10_ gross
We love a supportive boyfriendÂ
Husband Material
Get married please
ADOPT ME
Not all of Team Shiesty being in the comments
It's in their dating contract
âYall are too funny.â Y/n looks over at Joe to see him with his head thrown back laughing. âWhat is it?â
âYour accent.â He coughed out.
âJoey, I don't have an accent.â She pouts.
Nahhh we know a southern belle when we hear one
Someone forgot sheâs from Georgia
Youâd think itâd get weaker the longer she stays up north
orrrr maybe she still has it because she doesn't actually live in Ohio
âYes you do, but donât worry I think itâs absolutely adorable.â
âI canât with you.â She rolled her eyes, but the smile spreading across her cheeks told him otherwise.
@MarsOfficial I KNEW ITÂ
@MarsOfficial I knew he had a thing for your country shit
âAight, we are getting off task! Is there a No list? Technically yes, but no âThe Oneâ is not on it. And before any of you start, Joseph, please tell the people how you feel about âThe Oneâ once and for all.â Y/n turns the phone so the fans have a full picture of him.
âI feel like people have been waiting and praying for this moment.â He chuckles brushing his fingers through his hair.Â
CAUSE WE HAVEEEEE
TELL USSSS
WE NEED TO KNOW
He raises his right hand. âOk, everyone listening. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals.âÂ
âOh my god.â
âIâm trying to deliver an address here, princess.â He said sternly. She pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key.
Stop making me feel singleeee
âOk where were we, right. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals, solemnly swear that Track Nine is one of my actual favorite songs that Y/n has put out. Now all the commotion stops here, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.â As he finishes, they lock eyes and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.
I knew it wasnât that serious
We were clickbaited
THEY FOOLED US
Social Media is the devil
@MarsOfficial I tried to tell you
Her next project is gonna go so crazy
Hiiii from Canada
Instead of turning the phone back towards his girlfriend, Joey gently cuffs her waist and pulls her over to himself so she can continue her job. Then rests his hand over her shoulder.
Yoooo if you couldnât see the height difference then, you def see it nowđ€
Ugh they look so damn good togetherÂ
Yall should do an whole day in the life
What happened to not liking cameras Joey???
âOkay guys, I think Iâm gonna take a few more questions then call it a night.â
Noooo
Has Joe seen the entire show?
Booooo
Yes get off so Joe can get off from work and see his real girl
European fans here!!!
What is your ideal date night?
âI know I know, but our dinnerâs almost here so we gotta wrap this up. No, he has not seen the whole show. I need my man to be surprised too. More importantly, he has no clue how Crazy for Me is being set.â She smirked as she felt his hand move down to her thigh.
Oh they gon wrap something else up tonight too
âOh but does my mind wonder.â He bites his lip, no longer able to pay attention to anything but the woman on his right.
Omg the sexual tension is brewing
His hand continues to stroke her thigh until his phone goes off. âFuck, foodâs here.â He gets up and rounds the couch, but before he completely passes her their dark eyes meet and he makes a quick stop.Â
@MarsOfficial Iâve said it once and Iâll say it again, they are literally CRAZY for each other
Dream vacation??
Iâm sorry why canât a man look at me like that
She was right about this not lasting very long
Shiiiiii I wonder how long HE lastsđ
@lahjay10_ yalls comments are getting out of hand
A strong but gentle hand lightly pulls her head back and they smile before he connects his lips to hers for a shy but sweet kiss, then he pecks her forehead and leaves the frame.Â
AGAIN A MAN LIKE THAT PLEASE
GOD WHOEVER IS LISTENING THANK YOU
That looked mad forced
You make me feel so singleđ€§
If you werenât famous, what would you be doing?
Y/n quickly clears her throat before looking back at her comments.Â
@lahjay10_ oh god, get that off of my phone
Sheâs so flusteredddd
Girl we understand whewwww
âUno, go away. Okay um, speed round. Dream vacation is definitely Greece. Ideal date night depends on how weâre feeling, but you canât go wrong with a nice restaurant then coming home and getting in the hot tub. If I werenât famous what would I be doing?â
Joe Burrow.
The man right behind you
That one Cincinnati quarterback maybeđ€
regular shit because they wouldn't even know each other
yall are unhingedÂ
Her eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend setting up their dinner. âHmmmm yes to the first three.â
QUEEN
@Riri.intl24 Girl focus!
@MarsOfficial Ridiculous.
âOk but for real if I wasnât famous I guess Iâd be trying to put myself through school.â She shrugged.
âNope, youâd be in your residency program like youâre supposed to because Iâd take care of everything. Now sign off of there so I can have my dessert.â He stated from the background.
âWe didnât order any dessert.â
Joe darkly smiled, âwe didnât have to. Everything I want is already here.â
HOT SHIT
OMG
thats so scriptedđ„±
I THREW THE PHONE
MSKSKFYCYHC
GIRL GO
âFuck me.â She says under her breath, then reaches for her phone.Â
âIâm trying.âÂ
SCREAMING
@lahjay10_ imma clown his ass for this so much
@MarsOfficial Venus you need to move faster
@Riri.intl24 Esa comida no se comerĂĄ pronto
(translation: that food is not getting eaten anytime soon)
âJesus, bye babes. Love yall, and I canât wait to meet you soon.â She stands, blows the camera a quick kiss, and turns off the phone.
As she walks toward the dining room, he meets her half way and backs her up against a wall. âFucking finally, Iâve wanted you since I first walked in.âÂ
His hands go straight to her soft waist and his lips meet hers with an intense fervor. Breathless moans are smothered against his lips and her fingers tangle in his hair. âWha-what about the food?âÂ
Joe grips her ass, his lips pull off of hers, and they begin to suck purple bruises on her neck and behind her ear. âYou always say it tastes better after it's reheated anyway.âÂ
He pecks her lips and smiles at his handy work: her lips swollen and red, eyes burning with a dark desire, neck glistening with a shiny magenta hue and knees trembling from the pressure. âYouâre so beautiful.â
Her face heats up as she takes in the sight of her lover with a matching set of glossy lips. âI love you.â
âI love you more than anything, and Iâm about to show you exactly how much.â He smirks then throws her over his shoulder and takes off towards the bedroom.Â
âJoey!â
âËàŹȘ âč â§ïœ„ïŸ: â§ïœ„ïŸ: ê„
a/n: part two this weekendâĄ
<<< Ch. 23: Tour Countdown | Part Two >>>
#black reader#joe burrow x black reader#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow#nfl imagine#cincinnati bengals#joe burrow bengals#social media#h.e.r.#instagram live#mr. perfect#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow fluff#appreciation fic#fluff#suggestive#track9#track 9#bengals barnesbabe#joe burrow smut
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Chapter 18 - All For You
Guys, I fear this one may be worse than the last angsty one I wrote. Am I getting better or worse? â I have no clueâŠIâm just in a super angsty mood rnÂ
Also, I know that it âBorn to Break Recordsâ I said that Max didnât know about readerâs godfather passing. What I meant to say was that he didnât know at the time when he gave reader the trophy after she won her debut f2 race. But, because reader has a special helmet for Imola since Lorenzo was Italian, sheâd have to tell him about the helmet.Â
TW: EMOTIONAL ABUSE, HARSH LANGUAGE, SHITTY PARENTS, AND PHYSICAL ABUSE
I am prepared for the therapy billsâŠ
How does someone write âand they swapped spitâ in a romantic way?? Asking for a friendÂ
Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!Â
TAG LIST IS CLOSEDÂ
It couldnât be them.Â
You blinked and stared in the direction that you had been previously looking. Your eyes narrowed as you gazed at the small crack of the garage and where the gate was. You quickly placed your special helmet down on a table and dodged mechanics as you stepped out. Mitch barely glanced at your leaving as you often went to visit other drivers before the race if you had time. And today, the parade was a bit earlier, so most of the drivers used this time to destress a bit more than usual.Â
As you got closer, two familiar people stood out to you. Right now, they were arguing with one of the Red Bull security guards. Your face grimaced as you could hear the shouting multiple feet away.Â
As you got closer, your blood ran colder. You knew it was a bad idea to come out here, but it was like a moth to a flame or even a lamb to a slaughter. You couldnât stop your feet until you were just a few steps away.Â
âMom? Dad?âÂ
The group of threeâs heads swerved toward yours. The security guard, who you recognized to be Frederik, looked at you with a questioning face. The other two looked relieved but also angry at you.Â
Your father rolled his eyes and pointed toward you before yelling at Fred. âSee, I told you that we were her parents, now let us in,â he demanded.Â
Your heart dropped a bit at the statement. You were never one to stand up to your father, especially when he was already angry.Â
Your hear barely nodded, almost as if you were trying to even convince yourself that you were fine with them invading your life.Â
Fred looked over with concern.Â
âItâs ok Fred.âÂ
âAre you sure kid?âÂ
Your mother huffed. âShe said it was fine. Now let us through.âÂ
Fred sure took his sweet time to unlock the gate, something that you could find some thankfulness for.Â
Your mother came close to you first and wrapped you in an awkward hug: one that you did not return as it was too quick to reciprocate. Your father just stood there, with the same disappointing stare he always had.Â
You put your hands to the side. âWhat are you two doing here? Last I knew is that you wanted nothing to do with me.âÂ
Your father rolled his eyes and your mother let out a squawk. âIs that what youâve been telling your friends? Goodness gracious child, going around speaking lies.âÂ
You winced at her demeaning tone.Â
Your father spoke next. âYou make it into Formula 1 and forget everything that we did for you? How fucking pathetic.â He all but spit out the last word.
âKid!âÂ
Your head whipped around at lightning speed. Mitch was waving at you from the garage, a curious look on your face.
You tried to give her a smile, but it didnât quite reach your face. âComing!â You turned toward your parents. âYou can follow me, but please do not touch anything and just stand in the corner.âÂ
That earned another round of scoffs and groans.Â
âSomeone has gotten bratty I see,â you mother seethed.Â
You paid no attention and walked back to the garage. You only knew that they followed you because you had memorized their footprints long ago when you were too scared to even get out of your room on multiple occasions. There was a difference between their normal strides, angry strides, and sneaky strides that they used when they tried to âcatchâ you doing something you shouldnât have been doing â like getting an extra snack because they âforgotâ to make you dinner.Â
You had hoped that Max, Christian, Vito, or even Mitch would be right there when you walked in, but the universe definitely hated you today. The said four were standing in a little circle, probably going over some last minute data. You had stopped in the entrance and watched them, scared that they would ask questions.
While you were watching, a rough shove was directed toward your back, sending you to the floor and making a noise. Your knees were definitely bruised now and your hands were scraped on the concrete. Max, Christian, Mitch, and Vito all turned toward the noise. You had just gotten back up and continued walking, parents behind you.Â
Some of the engineers had watched your father push you and were starting to question as to who he thought he was, pushing you around like that.Â
âOops, didnât see you there,â your father said.Â
Vitoâs back straightened in defense when his eyes looked at your parents. You shot him a sorry look as he made eye contact with you.Â
âAh there you are kid. We were just going over some last minute notes. Who might this be?â Christian asked, walking toward you. Right now, he was thinking that they might be some older couple that you might have known from your childhood.Â
Boy, was he wrong.Â
Your eyes glanced back at your parents and sent Christian a look, trying to communicate to him that you really didnât want these two in the garage.Â
âUh, Christian, these are my parents.â Your hands lightly raised in the air, as if to show them off.Â
Christianâs eyes darkened as he looked at the couple. Max behind him was mentally killing them both. Mitch was just wondering about how she could get you out of this uncomfortable situation.Â
âY/n didnât tell me that weâd be having personal guests today,â Christian said, folding his arms in a defensive pose.Â
You prayed that your father wouldnât roll his eyes at your boss.Â
Your father only stared at the slightly taller Brit before looking at you, annoyance evident on his face. Your mother, once again, scoffed.Â
âWow,â your mother let off a very fake giggle, âour own daughter didnât tell you that we were coming? Shows you how much appreciation kids have these days.â Another fake laugh followed.Â
Max winced at the sight of your crest-fallen face. You looked absolutely miserable.Â
âHmmm, doesnât sound like our kid.â Christian tried to back you up.Â
Your mother had walked over to where you special Imola helmet was laying. She picked it up and twirled it around.Â
It was a beautiful piece of work. The colors of the Italian flag blended beautifully. On the side you had Lorenzoâs crest with his birthdate and death-date underneath as a tribute to him. You watched as her lip curled in disgust. But, you also saw as one of the mechanics came up and took it directly from her, telling her that no one but you or authorized personelle should be touching it.Â
Christian spoke up again, âWell, we are very busy right now and I need to speak to my drivers.â
But before Christian could get you away, Max stepped forward, a false smile on his lips and a hand stretched out.Â
âMax Verstappen, three time World Champion.âÂ
You knew this shpeel very well. Max only said the whole title when he was over someoneâs bullshit, or he knew that they were just using him for his fame.Â
Your father had some type of dumbstruck look as he took Maxâs hand. The fuming Dutchman used this opportunity to tightly squeeze his hand, tighter than a normal handshake should have been. It made him happy to see your father wince at the grip.Â
Your fatherâs hand then came and rested on your shoulder. You tensed as his grip got much harder and harder, probably leaving yet another bruise. âMy daughter has a lot to accomplish if youâre her teammate. Good thing she doesnât have the talent to outshine you.âÂ
You hated it when your father belittled you. He had done this multiple times in front of old friends. He was a manipulator and a narcissist. Your breath, that had been a bunch of harsh inhales and exhales, started to hitch. Clear signs of a panic attack were just around the corner. And your team could tell that you were about to possibly have a meltdown if you didnât get out now.Â
Mitch finally spoke up. âWe have a race in just under 30 minutes and I need to privately go over something with my drivers. Max and Y/n, please follow me. Christian, I need you as well and Vito you know what to do, weâll be in the main driverâs room (Maxâs driver room).âÂ
Your manager gave your parents one last glare before rushing out of the Red Bull garage.Â
Mitch was totally bullshitting them because it was actually closer to 45 full minutes rather than less than 30.Â
Max held your shoulders, much lighter than your father had. He noticed your breathing had started to pick up. He sent a worried glance at the Team Principal who was currently clearing the way.Â
To you, it felt like your head was underwater. Everything was blurry as you looked at the world through tears, and your head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. Your skin felt tingly and it pricked where Maxâs hands were now gently holding your elbows as he guided you to the room. You could barely hear them trying to get you to calm down.Â
Once in the room, you had sunk to the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, as a means of protection. Hands waved in front of your face, trying to get your attention as you stared numbly forward. Each wave shook a flinch out of your body.Â
A sudden inhale brought on ugly sobs as you tried to breath out apologies for things you didnât know.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, I wonât do it again. Please, please donât hurtâŠme.âÂ
Your speech was broken, along with the hearts of Max, Mitch, and Christian who watched their strong girl break down because of someone who should have loved you. Quick knocks on the door alerted the room of someone else.Â
You suddenly froze, not breathing, as you were thinking that your parents were about to invade yet another safe space. Yet, your vision was filled with red and familiar cologne.Â
Your body acted on autopilot as your arms wrapped around the familiar figure of your boyfriend.Â
His voice was still fuzzy as he started to rock you back and forth.Â
Arthur looked around at the pained faces of your teammate, race engineer, manager, and team principal as they all looked down at you.Â
Christian kneeled down next to the younger Monegasque. âIs there anything we can do?âÂ
He thought for a moment. You were curled sideways in his lap. Your legs were scrunched in fetal position, arms wrapped around his bicep as you clung to him. Your head rested against his chest with your eyes still closed.Â
âHer blood sugar gets low after an attack, can someone find some juice?â Vito and Christian all but bolted out the door.Â
âMitch can you turn off the light? And Max, please rub her back. Iâd do it, but her arms are wrapped around mine.âÂ
The lights suddenly dimmed behind your eyelids and a hand gently touched your bad, trying to see if youâd flinch. When your back didnât tense, Max continued to apply gentle pressure and his hand moved in small circles.Â
A big sigh escaped your lips as you came down from your sobs. Your lungs burned with each ragged breath, but they were thankful for new oxygen.Â
Your eyes remained closed as you took a minute to get your bearings in order. You tried to count down in your head starting from 100, which normally helped you calm down faster. You finally cracked your eyes open and sat up a bit straighter. The hand that was soothing on your back lifted away. A whine almost escaped your lips, but you reeled it in.Â
Arthur took notice of your open eyes and pressed a kiss to your forehead. âHow are you doing? You were out of it for a while. Much longer than usual.âÂ
You hummed. âIâm ok. A bitâŠâÂ
âThirsty?â The voice of your manager sounded as he walked in with multiple juice boxes in his arms, Christian behind him with even more juice boxes, and a certain Monegasque driver carried a variety of snacks in his arms.Â
Your eyes widened with excitement as your hand reached up to grab an apple juice from Vito. Arthur quickly took it from you and pressed the straw in and held it to your lips.Â
âSmall sips,â he reminded you. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew he was right.Â
After a couple of sips, you asked, âHow long was it this time.âÂ
Your legs finally stretched out from their crunched position.Â
âAlmost twenty minutes,â Mitch told you, handing you an icepack to put on your head. She guessed that you may be prone to migraines after panic attacks and got you one just in case. Mitch was glad to see you take it and put it on your head immediately.Â
The room was silent for a moment, before Max spoke.Â
âKid, what were they doing here?âÂ
You sighed. âI thought I saw them and I went to go check it out. Turns out it was them, and I really canât speak up against my dad when heâs angry.âÂ
Arthur concluded, âSo he bullied you into getting what he wanted?â
You winced at the word, but nodded just the same.Â
Christian spoke up. âI couldnât get them kicked out of the grand prix since they had tickets, but they arenât going to be in the garage. Do you feel all right to race today?âÂ
âYou donât have to kid if you arenât feeling well,â Mitch also added on.Â
You shook your head. âNo, I want to race.âÂ
The room knew what this weekend meant for you. When you had happily shown them your new helmet, their eyes had welled with tears as you talked about the man who loved you more than life itself.Â
Max, who hadnât known until Wednesday, had given you the biggest hug when it was a good moment. You didnât know who was comforting who at that moment, but the hug would go down in your list of top 5 hugs ever.Â
Arthur sensed that you wanted to stand by the way you were wiggling. He slowly helped you to his feet as he pressed another juice box into your hands. Charles quickly opened a bag of Cheetos as you stared at the orange bag.Â
âI ran to Logan,â he simply stated. He knew that the American was the one who always had your favorite snacks on hand. One, because it was a big American brand, and two, the blond had a soft spot for you and always kept them stocked.Â
You took the orange twist and happily munched on the snack. The digital clock on Maxâs desk showed that there was about 10 minutes left until you needed to get into the car. You quickly finished the small bag and chugged the rest of the juice.Â
Christian had to step out and start heading to the pit wall. Mitch followed the older Brit so that she could get to her spot inside the garage. Max and Charles left because Max needed to go over some things with GP, while Charles had to run back to Ferrari to get into his own car.Â
Vito stayed behind to check on you for just a few more moments. He knew first-hand how scared your dad and mom made you feel.
Then it was just you and Arthur for a couple of minutes. Your forehead pressed against his.Â
âThank you, for coming to help.âÂ
Arthur chuckled. âYou really need to stop scaring me. No flipping today, ok?âÂ
You nodded before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips this time. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, but he couldnât help it.Â
You gently punched his chest. âThur, you do that every single time.âÂ
Arthur brought you back closer. âItâs just because you make me so happy chĂ©ri.â Â
You gave him another peck, before you led him out of the room. He helped you put your helmet on, and did his ritual âforehead kissâ to the top of it. With your handshake also done, you climbed into your car. The mechanics who had seen you with your parents made sure that you were all right. They were met with a bright smile and a thumbs up from you.
For this race, you qualified rather high. Max had pouted because today had been a Ferrari front-row lock out. You had to remind him that he had beaten Charles before from starting father back. It seemed to pacify the Dutchman.Â
Starting GridÂ
Charles Leclerc Â
Carlos SainzÂ
Max VerstappenÂ
Lando NorrisÂ
Y/n L/nÂ
George RussellÂ
Lewis HamiltonÂ
Daniel RicciardoÂ
Logan SargeantÂ
Alex AlbonÂ
Oscar PiastriÂ
Lance StrollÂ
Fernando AlonsoÂ
Yuki TsunodaÂ
Nico HulkenbergÂ
Pierre GaslyÂ
Esteban OconÂ
Valtteri BottasÂ
Zhou GuanyuÂ
Kevin MagnussenÂ
To say this would be one of your worst races (and you'd DNF-ed before), would be an understatement. Your migraine had come back and your water was completely out by the last quarter of the race. You hadnât been able to keep Charles off for long for Max to catch up, which made Charles take the lead in the second half.Â
Max had also been confused as you had dropped behind him as well when you should have been your strongest.Â
You loved racing, but today you hated it. Your brain felt as though it was pounding with a sledge hammer against your skull.Â
âFor the first time in almost two years, Charles Leclerc has grabbed a victory. Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Imola Grand Prix. Max Verstappen clinches second with his rookie teammate Y/n L/n right behind him to make it a 2-3 for Red Bull. They are followed by Lando Norris and Lewis HamiltonâŠâÂ
Race ResultsÂ
Charles Leclerc â 25 pointsÂ
Max Verstappen â 18 pointsÂ
Y/n L/n â 15 pointsÂ
Lando Norris â 12 pointsÂ
Lewis Hamilton â 11 pointsÂ
Oscar Piastri â 8 pointsÂ
Alex Albon â 6 pointsÂ
George Russell â 4 pointsÂ
Logan Sargeant â 2 pointsÂ
Carlos Sainz â 1 pointÂ
Fernando AlonsoÂ
Yuki TsunodaÂ
Pierre GaslyÂ
Kevin MagnussenÂ
Nico HulkenbergÂ
Zhou GuanyuÂ
Valtteri BottasÂ
Esteban OconÂ
Lance StrollÂ
Daniel RicciardoÂ
Standings After ImolaÂ
Max Verstappen â 168 pointsÂ
Charles Leclerc â 120 pointsÂ
Y/n L/n â 80 pointsÂ
Lando Norris â 73 pointsÂ
Lewis Hamilton â 60 pointsÂ
Oscar Piastri â 53 pointsÂ
George Russell â 35 points
Carlos Sainz â 34 points Â
Alex Albon â 26 pointsÂ
Fernando Alonso â 23 pointsÂ
Daniel Ricciardo â 21 pointsÂ
Logan Sargeant â 19 pointsÂ
Lance Stroll
Pierre GalsyÂ
Yuki Tsunoda
Zhou GuanyuÂ
Kevin MagnussenÂ
Nico HulkenbergÂ
Valtteri BottasÂ
Esteban OconÂ
Constructors StandingsÂ
Red Bull â 248 pointsÂ
Ferrari â 153 pointsÂ
McLaren â 126 pointsÂ
Mercedes â 95 pointsÂ
Williams â 45 pointsÂ
Aston Martin â 23 pointsÂ
Racing Bulls â 21 pointsÂ
Alpha RomeoÂ
Haas
AlpineÂ
When you pulled into Parc Ferme, you barely had the strength to get out of the car. You only found out that you needed to get out was when Max lightly tapped your helmet and held out a hand. You gratefully grabbed it and Max hauled you out.Â
âAre you ok?â he asked, with concern storming in his blue eyes. A nod of your head pacified him for now.Â
Your headache only got worse when you spotted your parents standing at the wall. You tried to send the team apologetic looks when you walked right past them, something you never did even if you didnât even podium for a race. You always ran to their open arms.Â
Youâd send them lots of coffee and gifts for their families to make up for it.Â
You kept your helmet on for as long as you could. It helped to damper all the loud noise of the paddock.Â
Max and Charles both recognized that you wanted little to no noise if possible, so they kept quiet or spoke in soft whispers if they did speak. You immediately sat down in a corner, trying to cool off and will your migraine away.Â
You only opened your eyes once again when you were called to the podium. You were thankful that you didnât feel any panic as you walked out and stood on the lowest step. You watched as Max walked out and stood on the second place step before watching Charles almost skip to the top step. You giggled as you watched the Ferrari driver subtly stick his tongue out at Max. For a moment, you were scared at the repercussions but Max only smiled and rolled his eyes. Â
You took off your cap for the Monegasque anthem along with the Italian one. When you were handed your trophy, you gently kissed it (even though it didnât light up) and held it to the sky while also pointing. The two older drivers watched as you looked so happy. Deep down, they wanted you to be on the top step, but your time was coming.Â
Max was then handed his trophy. His lips were a bit tight, but heâd get over it.Â
Charles was quite the opposite. You guessed that he was finally happy that his dry spell was over. A sixth career win and first in almost two years. You clapped as the red-clad driver held his trophy proudly.Â
Your head was still pounding, but the migraine was slowly going away. You didnât have much strength to do your usual champagne cannon, but you still sprayed Charles as much as you could. When there wasnât anything else to spray, you poured the rest on your teammate.Â
You had a giant smile on your face as you looked down at the crowd. Yet, it slowly disappeared as your eyes found your parents, looking up at you with distain clearly written on their faces. You turned to Max, who was already looking down as well.Â
He pointed down, though, right next to them where Christian and Geri were both standing, proud smiles on their faces as they looked up at you.Â
Geri was trying to communicate for you and Max to stand closer and to smile for her camera. You quickly put your hand around his waist to bring him in closer. With trophies raised and bright smiles, she held a thumbs up when she took the picture. Christian just continued to look at the two of you as though you had just won him every single race possible.Â
You were then assured off the podium and back to the garage.Â
âI promise, Iâll find you after. You know how much I hate wearing my clothes after they get sticky,â you told Max as you walked toward your drivers room.Â
You had barely just gotten you shirt on when your door opened and closed.Â
Your rolled your eyes. âYou couldnât have just waited?âÂ
You turned, expecting either Max or your boyfriend. Yet, you were met with a slap across the face. Your cheek stung as you shakily raised a hand to touch it. A hiss left your lips when your fingers glazed your reddening cheek.
You barely had time to get try to get away, before another hand hit the side of your head, making your migraine slowly creep up again.Â
This time, a sob slipped through your lips as you looked at your parents, who were fuming.
âWhat did I do?â you tried to get out, voice cracking.Â
âAfter everything we did for you, you can only get a shitty third place?â your mother spit.Â
âSeriously, how fucking pathetic do you have to be. Offering up the trophy to someone who is dead?â your father questioned.Â
It was your turn to suddenly seethe. You pointed a finger at your dad. âHe loved me. He taught me everything I know.â You knew you were pressing his buttons, and you were about to press the big red one that says Do Not Press. âHe was the man that youâd never be.âÂ
Another hit to the face had your head swinging. You knew that there would be a big bruise in the morning. But you were proud for finally standing up to him.Â
Your motherâs hand hit the other side of your face, sending you staggering back to your dad. You braced yourself for another hit, but it didnât come. Your eyes opened and widened at the sight of your teammate with murder in his eyes.Â
Christian was behind him, on the phone, with your manager to the right, boyfriend and his brother on the left.
âYou touch her one more time and youâre fucking dead,â Max spoke, scarily calm. Your father jerked to hit him, and that was game over. Â
Security came quickly after Max had some more colorful words and quite possibly a hit to his face so that your fatherâs matched yours.Â
Arthur had come to wrap his arms around you, as a protective barrier.Â
As you watched your mother and father be led out by cuffs, the news coming that they had been banned for life from any Formula 1 activity, and that Vito had now gotten you a restraining order (something he said that he should have done years ago just in case) â you knew that you had finally found the family that you had always wanted.Â
The family that you had always needed.  Â
And youâd keep racing and winning, because 4 years ago, you made a promise.Â
To keep going and to keep fighting.Â
As you walked out of the garage, with a third place trophy and your helmet, you gently pressed your own kiss to the top of it.Â
âYouâd be proud of me,â you whispered, âand itâs all for you. Because you were everything that I needed.âÂ
y/n.89 has posted
y/n.89 Imola was an experience. Glad I could podium in my late godfather's country to make him proud. I wish he could have been standing there to watch me today, but I have three other men who are enough for me. To Christian, Max, and Vito - I love you three, thanks for always watching my back. Oh, and my boyfriend is pretty great too, he's just shy. Thank you for an amazing experience, I'll be back next year to win (Charlie move over)
tagged: christianhorner, maxverstappen1, and vito_official
liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1, vito_official, and 94,294 others
y/n_nation I'm not sobbing, you're sobbing
kid_y/n geri and christian both smiling like proud parents killed me
maxverstappen1 why would you do this?
y/n.89 ?? charles_leclerc he's crying right now y/n.89 oh, sorry not sorry?? maxverstappen1 you will be
christianhorner I know I can't speak for him, but he'd be so proud of you kid
gerihalliwellhorner we love you sweetie! can't wait for the next family dinner! maxverstappen1 family dinner? sebastianvettel you didn't get the invite?? y/n.89 oh no christianhorner uhhhhhh charles_leclerc he's crying again
mad_max the way that in every picture, they're looking at y/n
y/n_updates aahhhh the boyfriend has been mentioned!!!
y/n.89 I can't believe we're going to the track that THEE lightning mcqueen drove on
arthur_leclerc you mean...the Monaco Grand Prix....where you live...my hometown...Charles's home race... liamlawson she said what she said - lightning mcqueen's race charles_leclerc I'm done y/n.89 LIGHTNING MCQUEEN RESPONDED TO ME???? LIAM LOOK AT THIS liamlawson I'M LOOKING charles_leclerc goodbye y/n.89 DON'T GO
f1 see you all in Monaco!
author can everyone forgive me now?
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THE PROJECT.
-ËËââ #Vance Hopper x Reader
ËË°âą*ââ· PAIRING/PAIRINGS : Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader.
ËË°âą*ââ· FORMAT : Series.
ËË°âą*ââ· SUMMARY OF CHAPTER : Y/N and Vance were partnered up for a project. Obviously, both of them did not want to be together because of an incident that happened two summers ago. But were there any other choices? And what other surprise would await Y/N later on the day?
âș TW ! : Mentions of fighting, cuss words, bruises, wounds, brusies, scars, blood, threats, abuse, kidnappings, and more.
ËË°âą*ââ· âș AUTHORS NOTE ! : I just want to say that English is not my first language and that there is a scene (where Y/N is complaining to her best friend) inspired from a Vance H. fic called Pinball, Hair, and Detention by ellemfaoh! Please go check it out. It's so good! Also, there will be some 70s slang in the fic, so I will give you the meaning of it down below!
â
đŻ Hairy eyeball - If someone were to give you the hairy eyeball, it would mean they're shooting you a nasty or menacing stare.
Enjoy your stay ! :)
CHAPTER I - What A Day.
NORTH DENVER - 1977.05.27.
"And... Vance and Y/N! You two will be the last assigned pair for this upcoming project." Said, Mr. Hall. You froze at the news. You hated Vance. Well.. Not exactly hate. It was more of a dislike type of way. From your side, at least. Long story short, when you moved to town before first grade, you both became friends. But because of an incident two summers ago that everyone in the school knew about, everything went upside down. Though the feeling was mutual. Vance felt the same way about you, too.
Now you are just a girl who loves painting, writing, and reading poetry, has betrayal trauma, while some idiotic kids at school try to pester you and whatnot. You have tried to ignore them, but could you ignore an annoying sound like their voices? No.
Needless to say, both of the teenagers wanted to be switched with someone else. Even if it's with the most stupid kid in this class. Seriously.
"If you have any questions, ask the-"
"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but is there any chance that I can work alone? I just feel like I'll be better on my own." Y/N questioned, raising her hand slightly to attract the teacher's attention. Mr. Hall's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.
"If anyone works alone, it will be an automatic fail. If you want an explanation, I won't give it to you, because i don't owe you one." Mr. Hall stated flatly as you groaned quietly in annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Now, I want everybody to sit next to their assigned partner. Remember, I will check if everybody is sat where they have to be, if not there will be consequences."
Cringing quietly at that last part, you shifted uncomfortably as you glanced around the room to see if anybody reacted the same way. Some of them did, but most didn't. Probably because they were so used to Mr. Hall and his weird ways of threatening. There was some rumor tha-
"Move, fat ass." Jumping slightly in your seat, you were a bit startled. As you looked up at the figure that insulted you and brought you out of your mind, you couldn't really recognize who it was. Was she one of the girls that liked Vance. Carol, maybe? You grimaced. Did you have to sit next to him? To Vance Hopper? That's probably why she looked like there was steam coming out of her ears. Carol still thinks that you and Vance are friends or something, even though the whole school knows you aren't.
"Maybe when you calm your balls down a bit, I will move you snot-flicking doofus." You spat out. Getting up, she threw you a nasty glare. You ignored her and went to sit where Vance was. Great. When you went to his desk, you dropped your bag on your side and sat down, giving the dirty-blond a quick glance. Just as Vance was about to say something to you (probably something spiteful) , Mr. Hall started checking as he promised, and after, he announced. "As you all know, yesterday we wrote down some very important notes about World War 1 and World War 2. Well, almost everyone." paused Mr. Hall, giving Vance a quick look of disapproval before continuing. Vance, in response, sneered. "All of you will have one to two weeks to do this project. Before you start it, I want you guys to write down some more notes, as the project's prompt will be about WW1 and WW2." Then your mind completely dozed off somewhere else. The prompt was all you needed. You would just write down the notes that were needed and zone out again.
As some minutes ticked off, you felt a sharp pain towards your leg. You quietly hissed out as you looked beneath the desk and saw Vance's leg, ready to attack again. You shot a glare towards Vance. All he did was smirk. Narrowing your eyes, you moved your legs far away as you possibly could. After a while, a thump on your leg was heard, and you bit your tongue just so you don't yelp out from pain. Looking up at the wall in front, you checked the time. Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before going to an unexplainable expression. 15 more minutes. You sighed in defeat, leaning your head on your palm. It won't be that bad. Right? It was just 15 minutes.
WRONG.
"You don't understand, Bugs! It hurt like a hundred hits with a belt!" You stated while she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning your words. "Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but still! He's the worst! And just as I thought he was gonna stop, he started tugging and pulling on my hair!" You ranted to your best friend. Exchanging the books in your hands with the ones in the locker, you slammed it shut. As you leaned against it, you turned towards your her - Maya. She was obviously trying to hold her laughter. When you started squinting your eyes and crossing your arms is when she burst out laughing. After a second, you chimed in. The both of you got weird stares from some other kids, or whatever. Who cares, tho? You were only having fun with one of the most normal girls in school.
When you were over with the giggling session, she spoke. "Maybe our little Vancey has a little crush on you!" teased Maya. "Oh yes, I hope Vance likes me! I really do!" You said with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice, making a face afterwards. Maya started laughing again, but you just stood there watching her. You rolled your eyes and sighed as she laughed. "If a boy likes you, he shouldn't be tugging or kicking your leg! Not bullying the person you like is literally the bare minimum!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in anger.
"True, true. But still, imagine if he actually does."
"Are you trying to get on my nerves today?" You grumbled out, looking sideways at her. She shrugged as the bell rang. "Maybe, but luckily we have English together. You know what that means..." She exclaimed, changing the subject as her mouth curved into a smile. You gave her a smirk of your own. Whenever the both of you had classes together, you wouldn't stop giggling for the most stupid reasons. Would it be teachers, other kids in school, hell, even objects! Honestly, she was everything you could ask for in a best friend. You knew each other since first grade. Maya knew about the incident with Vance because she was there too. Ever since then, the both of you hung out a lot, and you got very close, resulting in her being your best friend and you being hers.
As you both walked to the English classroom, ahead of you, you saw Vance with his supposed 'friends' and some two other girls. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while Maya just looked at them with the white of her eye. The both of you walked past the horrendously annoying group (in your opinion), but you noticed that Maya made some sort of expression you couldn't explain. Closest to it was one of surprise. An 'Ooh' and 'Aah' escaped from her lips, as if she was reading some sort of fascinating fashion magazine. You turned your head to see what she was 'Ooh'ing and 'Aah'ing about and you mentally groaned out.
Turning your head back, you saw Vance fucking Hopper staring at you. Right directly at you. The both of you locked eyes. As you kept eye contact with his icy blues, you saw that Carol girl angrily glaring at you. Making a face you turned your head towards Maya.
"I swear that chick has some problem with me!" You commented. "She keeps giving me a hairy eyeball, and I don't know why! I honestly think-"
"It's because she likes Vance. Yeah, I know. The whole school does." She replied. "Last year, when I was paired up with him for the school's baking competition, she kept either glaring or sneering at me." She said with a laughter. "Who cares, tho? It's not like she can win over his heart with her bitchy attitude. Wait! Actually no!" She exclaimed, her head turning towards you with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "They would be the perfect couple! They both are assholes like it's their full-time job and are just... Eugh!" Maya shivered a bit, a scowl plastered on her face while you chuckled at her reaction.
When you both went inside the classroom, you went to your usual seats, which were almost at the back. As you sat on the dirty plastic chairs, both of you started talking about different topics.
"And then she-" Maya got interrupted by the teacher walking in. Ugh. Mrs.Young..
After a while, you started quietly giggling at a thought that came in your head. Maya looked at you, confusion drawn on her face. You just gave her a nod, meaning that you would tell her in a bit. As the class began to sit down, Mrs. Young started talking about something that clearly wasn't important to you because you were quietly laughing and whispering with Maya.
"Y'know.. Young doesn't suit her. Like at all. She's fuckin' ancient, an annoying old hag that passes the jocks so they can graduate, just because she wants to pull down their pants since she can't do that to her husband." Maya quickly put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh or even giggle. You could see her eyes slightly filled with tears as she blinked profusely.
"It wasn't that funny, but still. Its so-"
"Y/N!" Mr. Young yelled out. You stiffened as the expression on your face quickly turned from joy to panic. As you straightened up and turned your head towards her, you saw her make the most horrendous expression on an adult you have ever seen. You tried to keep it inside, but you let out a giggle and a quiet laugh.
"Something funny, young lady?" The teacher questioned.
Yes.
"N-No Mrs. Young.." You said through laughs. Fuck. As you glanced at Maya, you already knew she was gonna be the reason you were gonna end up in detention. As you let out a laugh again, that's when Mrs. Young shouted out.
"That's it! Detention for three days!"
"But-"
"I don't want to hear your excuses!"
You sighed as you plopped down on the plastic chair, placing your cheek on your palm.
What a day, honestly.
When the bell rang, you quickly gathered your stuff and left without uttering a word to your best friend. She called out to you, but you ignored her completely. As you went to your locker, you heard someone shout out your name while you quickly switched up your books.
"Y/N..!"
Maya's voice was echoing through the hall. You turned around and looked at her. She was jogging towards you. When she was in front of you, she panted for some seconds.
"What." You questioned, voice flat. It took her a moment to talk as she was taking some breaths. "Listen.. I didn't mean to make you mad or get you into trouble. I just wanted to make you smile after her nagging 'n shit, you know?" "Yeah, but that doesn't mean while she's scolding and looking at me!" "I'm sorry! Okay?" She exclaimed quickly while looking down at the ground. You just smiled at her. When she looked to you, her blue eyes crinkled at the end as she gave you a grin. You know she didn't mean any harm. "You're lucky you're my best friend, or I would have done everything possible to get you stuck in detention with me." She let out a giggle and hugged you, you doing the same.
As the time flew by, you went to detention, and when that hell of a place was over, you walked to the exit to leave school. You decided to go to the Grab 'N Go later and you walked half the way towards your house, you heard leaves crunching behind you. You shrugged it off and started walking a bit faster. When you realized the person behind copied you, you hesitated to turn around, and you did. Your eyes slightly widened a bit, then narrowed.
Vance fucking Hopper. Great. Just great.
You locked eyes with him. He looked you up and down, sneering. You stopped in your tracks, your face contouring into confusion and annoyance. "Are you followin' me or something, Hopper? You weren't even in detetnion, so what are you doing here walking so late after school?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow, gripping the straps of your backpack. He probably took notice of that because he looked at them. Narrowing his eyebrows, he barked out, "Get a hold of yourself, dimwit. I would never follow anybody, especially you. Stupid bitch." 'Such a lie. He would definently follow someone if they piqued his interest.' you tought. Then he walked past you, grumbling something inaudible afterward.
You rolled your eyes and started again. Honestly, you expected some more arguing with him right now, but he didn't really do anything troublesome today when you think about it. Not even a minute fight with someone. Well, except when he started kicking your leg and tugging on your hair. He didn't answer your second question, too.. whatever, but what was that supposed to mean? Someone like you?
This time, Vance was ahead of you, so you decided to observe him. He was wearing his jean vest, a mix of blue-ish and gray-ish jeans, a white wife beater, belt, and some dirty black shoes. That was the outfit he wore most. Then, your eyes went up to the back of his head. His long, dirty-blond curls bouncing with every step he took. Honestly, you sometimes envied him for his hair. It was interesting. Wait. Did you just give that asshole a compliment? Yeah, but his hair was pretty! But his personality was the total opposite. It's like he was born on this planet to terrorize everything and everyone. You tought to yourself for a moment that it was because of his home life. You knew about it. He had told you a bit before you two had started hating each other. But that didn't excuse his behavior at all.
What you didn't realize was that you were so caught up in your mind that you were two blocks past your house. Stopping in your tracks when you had realized, you turned around, giving the blond one last glance.
Unlocking the door, you went inside, kicking your shoes off and dropping your backpack. You went to the wired phone to call Maya. Dialing her number, you put the receiver on your ear and waited. When she answered the both of you made an agreement to meet at the Grab 'N Go in 10.
Hanging up, you quickly ran up to your room, grabbing a 5 dollar bill, shoving it in your pocket. You closed the door and rushed down the stairs, putting on your shoes. You went outside and locked the door. You weren't really rushing, so you were walking at a normal pace. You started wondering where the nickname 'Bugs' for Maya came. After a while of thinking, you remembered it was from that one cartoon animation with a bunch of episodes. Looney Tunes, was it?
When you arrived at the Grab 'N Go, Maya wasn't there. She lived closer to the mini store than you did, so you thought it was unusual. Another strange thing is that she always waited for you right in front of the door. You decided to wait for some more minutes. Maybe she would be a bit late than usual, or was she inside? Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. You just hoped that The Grabber didn't kidnap her. Just the thought of that made you want to vomit. You quickly decided to first look inside the Grab 'N Go.
Going in, you saw a familiar blond hunched over the Pinball Machine, trying to beat his high score, its bell dinging whenever he scored. Typical Vance.
Ripping your attention off of him, you went between the aisles, but there was no sight of Maya. Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion come from the side of the freezers. You decided to go there. Going on the other side, you saw a formed crowd of kids. A lot of hyping up and yells could be heard. A fight was happening. You don't know how the lady at the cash register wasn't hearing them chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. You wanted to shrug it off, but it was like an itch waiting to be scratched. As you pushed through the kids towards the center, you froze. Your eyes widened from the scene in front of you.
What the fuck?
Some two girls were holding Maya's arms from both her sides, and a third one was throwing punches and kicks at her. Your best friend's face was bruised, and so were her legs and arms. Her lip was almost busted. It wasn't even a fight at this point it was torture.
With clenched fists, your knuckles probably turning white at this point, you looked at the cashier and then back to Maya. When she moved her eyes towards you, you saw pain but relief when she took notice of you. There was so much more, but you couldn't just stand there anymore.
As you pushed through the kids, you went behind the girl who was hitting her. Grabbing her from the hair, you heard her yelp out in pain. "You putrid crotch-sniffing toerag, I swear to God I will kill you!" You yelled at her while turning her head to look at you. "Let me go, you cunt!" She screeched out. Ignoring her demanding, you straight up bashed her head in the freezer then threw her to the ground afterwards. Lifting her head up you saw that her eyes were teary and her nose was bleeding. She touched the bloody trail dripping from her nostrils with her fingertips and she quickly glared at you, anger evident in her eyes. As she got up she swinged a punch at you but you quickly ducked. Seeing her leg move a bit, you assumed she was going to try and kick you somewhere. Knowing her next attack, you blocked it with the tip of your elbow. You heard from somewhere that blocking it that way hurts your opponent more. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind. You grinned, bending your knees down a bit, hands resting on them.
"Stupidity ain't a crime, so feel fuckin' free to get outta here, bitch!" You remarked. "Oh! And by the way. I dont know if your parents realize that they're living proof of making a complete mistake and a fucking bitch that bullies other kids and projects her problems on them." You spat out afterward. She just stared up at you. And that's where you crossed the line. Before you can even comprehend, she punched you right in the nose.
"Y/N!" You heard the voice of your best friend call out to you. There was so much noise and commotion. You felt like everything was a fever dream. That was until you felt a kick to the stomach. You shut your eyes, a stinging feeling in them as you clutched your stomach with your arms. When you opened them, they were teary, and you felt a warm liquid trickling down your nose. Yup, you definently got a bloody nose, too. You wiped the blood with the sleeve of your shirt and looked up at her with a nasty glare. She was just grimacing down at you like you were some sort of creature that snuck on Earth. Out of nowhere, she decided to kick you in the hip multiple times, and your not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. It almost felt like you were gonna have a broken pelvis.
Just as you thought you were done for and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole Grab 'N Go, Maya shouted unexpectedly.
"Hey, you cock-sucking hackwag!" The girl turned around, facing her. She was surprised at her words because earlier she was tormenting your best friend, and now she's getting insulted by her. "Getting bold, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head while crossing her arms in front of her chest.
You sat up, your back leaning against the freezer door. You felt a slight lump on your lip. As you touched it a bit with the tips of your fingers, you realized she busted your lip. Grimacing, you looked up at the crowd. Some of them were watching Maya and the girl. Some were watching you. Including Vance. His eyes were scanning your bruises and whatnot that was on your exposed skin. He wasn't looking at you only. He observed the girl, Maya, and you. He was a fighter. After all, he was here for the fight. But when his eyes went to your slightly parted bloody lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he locked eyes with yours. The both of you were having a staring stand-off. Well, that was until someone's torso fell on your feet, hissing and groaning as you heard an 'Oh!' from the crowd. You were ready to attack that rascal again if Maya was the one on your feet, but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. Maya was standing proudly, a small grin plastered on her lips. You brought your feet up to your torso, her back hitting the ground, making her groan out again. You let out a laugh and stood up, dusting yourself.
Grabbing your best friend's hand, you pushed through the crowd. "We gotta go before we get into even more trouble!" You exclaimed, turning your head to glance at her. Going past the cashier lady, she gave you an odd look. Maybe it was because of your beaten up state, turning her gaze to where the leftover commotion was coming.
When you and Maya went out the door, the bell rang, signaling your exit. You started running and giggling a bit, both of your lungs' burning. Both of you were bruised, scratched, and whatnot. People on the street were giving you weird and concerned looks, but hey. At least you kind of protected Maya. But you owed her now. She saved you from that girl before she could do something else than just throw a blow and some kicks at you. You were just glad she was okay.
As for now, both of you went over to your house and fixed each other up on the living room couch, watching some clichĂš action movie. After a while, she said.
"Dude, I honestly thought you were done for when she started kickin' and shit. You looked so.."
"Don't even finish."
She chuckled while laying her head on your lap, her legs on the armrest. "I'm just glad you're okay, N/N." She murmured.
"Me too, Bugs." You answered, caressing her hair. "Oh, by the way, did you see the way Vance looked at you? It was weird."
"I know, don't mention it. Again." You exclaimed quickly. "Why?" She asked. There was a moment of silence between the both of you. "Because I don't know what kind of look it was." You mumbled. "What kind of look did you hope it was?" She looked up at you, her blue eyes looking for an answer in yours.
"I don't know." You stated, ripping your eyes from hers to the TV.
"Then, if you don't know now, you will find out another day." She said before turning her attention towards the movie.
What a day.
ËË°âą*ââ· NOTES : Hello, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am currently working on the second chapter of the fic, so stay tuned! If you want to get tagged when chapter II is out, please leave a comment or like! If you have any suggestions for the next chapter, feel free to tell me in the comments! Bye-bye! :D
Tags ! : @yayitsyannie @serradiary1ry @dollyzdove I edited the fic up a bit, so that's why I'm tagging you guys for chapter I !
#vance hopper x reader#vance hopper#billy showalter#griffin stagg#finney blake#gwen blake#robin arellano#bruce yamada#the grabber#albert shaw
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Historia de Amor
Hey guys!
This is a new story and it's really a very long. I asked you by a survey if you prefer that I separate the story into several chapters but you answered me no :)
I didn't put all the ideas I had in this story however, I still keep some under the elbow.
Tell me if you liked it and what is the part you preferred :)
Resume : Lots of part of life with the love of your life.
TW : Physic hurt
PART 2 IS HERE and BONUS CHAPTER HERE
Keeping a facade smile on her face, Ona looked around and felt a bit lost. It had only been two weeks since she arrived in Manchester from Spain and from the height of her 21 years she had trouble to cope with her new environment. She hardly spoke the language of the country where she had just moved in and despite the warm welcome she had received from her teammates, she needed a little time to adapt. She was relieved to have the opportunity to speak Spanish with some of her teammates, like Ivana. It was relaxing for her. She was doing better and better in English, even though she found her accent horrible.
However, tonight it was difficult for her to follow the conversations that existed around her. It was late and she had had training this morning, but when Alessia invited her to attend her brotherâs birthday party, Ona couldn't refuse. She knew it would make it easier for her to connect with her teammates and she had a great evening. But between the alcohol she had drunk and fatigue, it became a little too much for her.
So she politely apologized to her table mates and got up to go outside and breathe some fresh air. The anniversary took place in a sort of old English castle that the Russo had rented for the occasion, also providing rooms for people who would have drunk too much to return home safely. Ona went out in the courtyard, the sound of gravel under her shoes bringing her a rather surprising calm but nevertheless not pleasant. A female silhouette caught her eyes and she turned her steps in her direction.
Your direction.
"Hello" she says gently, approaching you.
Focused on your camera, you didnât see her arrive, but you raise your head and smile at her.
"Hi" you simply answer before putting your attention back on the screen of your camera.
A silence sets in, but it is not disturbing. The presence of Ona doesn't bother you, quite the contrary actually. You briefly glance at her and realize that she is looking at the screen of your camera while you are sorting out the shots you made during the evening.
Ona, realizing only now that she was staring, so she bites her lip and hurries to turn her gaze away.
"Sorry, I didnât mean toâŠ"
"Donât worry" you smile again before placing your camera on the embankment against which Ona leans, while you are sitting yourself. "The lights from inside kept me from seeing the pictures properly, which is why I went out. Would you like to see the ones where you appear?"
Ona looks at you again a few moments before giving you a shy smile and nodding. It takes you a few minutes to find the ones you are looking for and Ona finally decides to break the silence.
"So youâre like the official photographer?"
"Kind of" you laugh softly. "I am the little sister of Giorgioâs best friend. They offered me to be the photographer for the evening, itâs more a passion than anything else. Here you go."
You finally find what you were looking for and show two shots you made of Ona. She appears with Alessia and Ella, but you must admit that they are the only ones we can find her.
"They are pretty"
"They are not exceptional" you answer objectively, shrugging your shoulders, before biting your lip by looking at her thoughtfully.
"What?"
You smile when you see her looking at you and gently frowning. You had already noticed her in the crowd, looking a little lost but a smile that illuminates the entire room. Closer, you can more easily see the features of her face and you realize that she is even more beautiful than you could have imagined. But you donât share your thoughts with her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. After all, you donât know her at all.
"I can make more pictures of you here, if you want?"
Ona seems surprised by your proposal and you quickly realize that it's can be a little weird. For the first time since she joined you here, youâre the one whoâs uncomfortable. You even blush, happy that night has fallen for some time. Quietly scraping your throat, you resume before she can even answer you.
"You donât have to answer me. Excuse me, that was a stupid idea."
"No" she cuts you quickly by putting a hand on your arm. "No, I was just surprised. But why not, but Iâm not used to doing that, other than for the shootings of the new jerseys. Since Iâm a footballer. I play for Manchester United, with Alessia?"
You laugh softly, first because you're relieved that she doesn't take you for a psychopath but also because it's probably the longest sentence that she heard pronounced. Alessia being the little sister of your brotherâs best friend, you have often had to go to one of his matches.
"I suspected it a little, I couldn't come to see you play since the beginning of the season, but since you arrived with Ella and Alessia..."
You don't finish your sentence and smile softly, thinking that if you had known, you would have returned more quickly to the bleachers. While you play mechanically with the strap of your camera, you see Ona gently tilt her head looking at you, probably intrigued by this information.
"You follow women football?"
"Yes⊠but I must confess myself" you smile maliciously.
"Tell me?"
"Iâm more of an Arsenal supporter."
A scandal, an aberration according to your brother. But thatâs how it is, youâve been a fan of Leah Williamson almost all your life and by default you support Arsenal.
"Qué?!" exclaims Ona, looking shocked with her hand on her heart, and you burst out laughing at her.
She also laughs and you discover your new favorite melody. Okay girl, youâre gonna have to focus because otherwise youâre gonna go home tonight with a solid crush.
"What about these pictures?"
***********
The next morning, you got up around 10 am and the first thing you did was plug your camera into your computer. You didnât take care of Giorgi and Lucaâs photos or the cake, but instead you hurried to look for the photos you took of Ona in the course of the castle. Without wanting to throw flowers at you, they are incredible but your talent is certainly not for much.
Ona is resplendent, sometimes smiling, sometimes shy, from the front, from the side and even from the back. You scroll through the photos you took of her for many minutes before opening your photo editing software to correct the light. You do nothing else, there is nothing to touch up. Ona is perfect.
The Latin gave you her email address to send her the photos, but you wait until the afternoon to do it, hoping to receive a quick answer from her. You know that she has no training that day, thatâs why Giorgio chose that night to organize her party.
The answer from Ona arrives at the end of the afternoon and from this moment will start an exchange of emails then messages when you decide to pass on your phones, so that it is more convenient apparently.
You and Ona talked almost non-stop for the next ten days. Manchester playing away the following weekend, it's only during the week that Ona offers you to go for a coffee together. You obviously accept quickly, too happy to see her again without having to initiate the thing. You tried to grab information about Ona, but going through three intermediaries (your brother, Alessiaâs brother AND Alessia) made things too complicated. And when your brother started teasing you, you quickly gave up.
So you turned on social media, but you quickly realized that apart from a few photos of her friends and family, Ona was rather discreet about her romantic life. You couldnât even tell if she was attracted to women and you didnât have the courage to ask her directly. Youâve seen a picture of her with the rainbow flag, but it may very well say that she supports the cause without necessarily being part of it.
You had a long debate about how you should dress for this date. It was just a coffee at 10:00 in the morning, Ona having informed you that she had the day off. For your part, with your university studies, you had the opportunity to manage your work as you wanted.
After much hesitation, you ended up opting for an artificially ripped jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket, all embellished with your eternal red Converse. Your hair is released freely and cascade down your shoulders. Ona having a car, she offered to pick you up and it's with a bit of nervousness that you enter her car when she parks in front of your building.
"HolĂ !" she greets you joyfully.
Her smile is contagious and you say hello before closing the door and fastening your seat belt. You feel a heartbeat when she lays a kiss on your cheek, but you try to quickly regain your countenance. You got the information from one of your friends that the Spaniards might have a different approach to physical contact, but it got out of your head. That moment wasnât unpleasant though.
"Where are you taking me?"
Ona gives you a quick look before turning her attention back on the road since she has restarted her car. You notice her phone hanging on the dashboard, Waze plugged in to show her the right way.
"I donât really know Manchester yet, so I asked Ivana to recommend a place. I hope you'll like it."
You nod and sit comfortably against the seat of her car. You have no doubt that you will have a good time with her. You have about fifteen minutes to travel and you take the opportunity to ask her about her activities last night. Despite the fact that you write to each other very day, you are relieved to see that you still have things to say to each other. And especially that your conversations are as fluid oral as written.
When you arrive at your destination, Ona hurries out of her car to open your door. You find yourself blushing slightly, thanking her with a small smile. The fact that you found a parking place so close to the establishment is probably close to the miracle and you take this as a sign of fate.
Ona also holds the door of the establishment and guides you to one of the tables when the waitress signals you to settle where you want. After consulting you with a glance, the Spanish woman makes her choice on a table at the back of the room, probably allowing to have some privacy. She may not be a rock star but it must happen quite regularly to her to be recognized. You realize now that youâve never asked yourself about it.
"Have you been here before?"
You smile at Ona and shake her head negatively, assuring her that this is the first time. You had already passed several times ahead of course, having grown up in Manchester it would have been difficult not to. That said, the place is beautiful, simple and seems well maintained. Not to mention that the menu seems pretty great.
The waitress arrives a few minutes after you are installed, notepad in hand to take your order. You refrain from frowning when you see her look at Ona with an air a little too insistent for your taste while the footballer still deciphers the card to order. You could have sunk into a spiral of jealousy if she hadnât taken your breath away with her smile looking back at you right after giving the menu back.
"Howâs your file going?" asks the Latin girl while keeping her smile.
You briefly bite the inside of your lower lip before answering it, still not understanding what she can find interesting in your literature studies. But you finally find yourself explaining to her where you are and you realize that not only does she ask you questions, but they are also related to what you have already told her before.
"Are you doing something on Saturday?" asks the Latina after you receive your order.
"Not really. Why?"
"Weâre playing against Arsenal⊠and I was wondering if you wanted to come see me play?"
The proposal pleases you, and the fact that the brunette uses the term "me" rather than "us" even more. But you decide to tease her and offer her a big innocent smile.
"Mh depends, will you introduce me to Leah Williamson?"
Understanding immediately that you are only trying to play with her, Ona hides her amusement behind her milkshake a few seconds before answering you.
"If you want me to never speak to you again, this is the best thing to do"
You laugh gently and bite your lower lip again watching Ona play with her straw and the end of her drink. You find the dimples that dig into her face every time she laughs or smiles just adorable. Wishing not to let the slightest doubt hover between you two, you lean slightly in her direction to attract her attention again.
"I will come to see you play with pleasure"
Ona smiles at you and you feel yourself melting like vanilla ice cream in full sun. Your gaze exchange lasts a little longer than two simple friends would, but you have a hard time pulling yourself out of the intensity of her chocolate pupils. It's only when the waitress arrives, asking you if you want something else that you're back to reality. After questioning you with a look, Ona simply refuse for both of you- After you have shared the bill, you find yourself outside, breathing again the fresh air.
"You want to go for a walk?" you propose to Ona. "I could show you a couple of nice places around here, if you want."
"I would love to"
With that you are gone in the small streets of Manchester, where tourists don't normally come. You don't meet many people, but with the sun shining on Manchester today it seems to make everything beautiful. Or is it the presence of the Hispanic? Because of your physical proximity, your hands touch a few times, each time sending you a discharge of electric current.
"Is this a date?"
Your question escapes from your lips even before you have time to realize it and it seems to surprise Ona as much as you. She turns entirely in your direction, leaving the sight of the city that you had after climbing in the heights.
"I hoped it would be"
Onaâs answer is whispered, but you smile softly as you nod.
"Good"
Enjoying the sun, you sit on a bench to chat even more, eating toasted almonds and hot chocolate when itâs time for a snack.
On your way back, your hands eventually join gently but surely. It's first the little finger of Ona who clings to yours and you discover with amusement that she watches you from the corner of the eye to see your reaction. Realizing that you don't seem uncomfortable and that you are even getting closer to her, her relief is such that you feel her release the breath she was holding.
When you get back to her car, your two hands are tightly tied and you miss the heat of Onaâs palm against yours the moment you have to let's go to get into the car.
"Iâll take you home"
Itâs more a statement than a proposal and you donât even think of refusing when Ona informs you of her decision once you arrive in front of your building. You postpone the time to say goodbye while remaining a few minutes to discuss in front of the door of the building. You hesitate to ask her to come home with you, but it is now the beginning of the evening as the day passed quickly.
As you finally say goodbye, Ona leans over you and gently places her lips in the corner of yours. The heat wave that it gives you is mixed with a little feeling of frustration, which pushes you to follow Onaâs movement when she steps back. If you had wanted to hide this gesture, it would have been useless. The Latin obviously saw you.
"Not on the first date Hermosa" she whispers mischievously before stepping back a few steps and returning to her car, waving at you with her damn beautiful smile on her gorgeous face.
Saturday, like you promised her, you are around the pitch looking her play.
You arrived for the training to not miss anything of her on the field, curious to see her evolve with a ball at her feet. After her warm-up ends, she quickly makes her way to you, with a big smile on her lips. Leaving the small group that accompanied you, partly formed of your brother and Alessiaâs family, you join her, leaning against the barrier.
"Iâm glad youâre here. But I see you donât have a jersey?"
You laugh softly, knowing full well that she's refers to one of the discussions you had the night before, during which you teased each other and where you threatened to show up with an Arsenal jersey.
"I didnât have time to find one, but I promise, next time. And a Manchester's one."
Onaâs smile is getting bigger, maybe partly because you just promised to come watch her again, before you even know if youâll like this game. She knows you watch football from time to time and sometimes you come here, but coming to see her is different. Unfortunately, the Spanish has no time to stay longer. The members of her team call her and you smile as you wave her to join them.
This will not prevent Ona from returning a few minutes later, walking hesitantly at you with a shy smile, a jersey with the Manchester logo in her hand. You take it and after folding it, you realize that her name and her number are on it. Without hesitation, you put it over your sweater.
***********
Later that night, you were in your apartment accompanied by Ona. After she offered to take you home, you had this time the courage to offer her a last drink before she heads home.
Sitting on your couch, you turned on your TV with a shitty reality show that neither of you really follows, rather focused on the discussion you have about the game. Ona's team won at the last minute of the game, managing the suspense until the end. You had a great time actually and you even miss some things on the pitch, all your attention focused on a certain Spanish defender. Alessia scored the last goal actually, for the greatest pride of her brothers.
"Not too disappointed that you haven't met Leah?" Ona teases you and you smile.
"Iâll get over it" you assure her, laughing softly.
Ona smiles again and you canât help but admire her for a few seconds, your head resting on your hand, itself resting on the back of the sofa. In front of you, Ona imitated your position. After she showered, she put on a sports jogging bottoms and an orange hoodie. Her hair is gathered into a messy bun and a few strands fall on her face. Delicately you put a strand behind his ear.
"You look tired" you whispers, your fingers brushing against the skin of her cheek when you take your hand back.
"I am" she admits without stopping looking at you.
"You look beautiful, too" you whispers again, earning a new smile.
"No, that's you"
You roll your eyes before shaking your head while smiling. You don't want to play the fake modest, but in your eyes if there is one of you who was blessed by the fairy of beauty, it's definitely Ona. You look back at her right after though, feeling her hand under your chin. She gently raises her face in her direction, allowing you to realize that she has come closer to you.
"I really mean it. Youâre beautiful."
"Ona..."
If your heart could get out of your thorax cage, it would certainly do so now as it beats so hard. With your proximity, you can see all the peculiarities of her face, starting with the different shades of her freckles. Her eyes shines with a particular glow, which has nothing to do with the shade of fatigue that was there a few moments ago. This moment of delicious tension lasts a few seconds before you speak again, your voice barely higher than a murmur.
"Just kiss me"
That was all she was waiting for, gently breaking the last inches between you. Her lips are light on yours at first, like a touch of butterflies, before coming more present. They are soft, delicate, sweet, perfect. This kiss is even better than any you could imagine during your moments of dreaming.
Onaâs hand gently leaves your cheek to slide onto your neck, causing shivers in every place she touches.
You briefly resume breathing, before initiating a second kiss. You gently tilt your head to the side to have a better access and you can not retain a slight moan when you feels her tongue caress your lower lip, asking access to yours. You accept, of course. And this time you feel completely attracted and overwhelmed by the mixture of feelings and sensations.
When you regain consciousness, well helped by the burning of your lungs that remind you that they need oxygen, you are literally lying on Ona, herself lying too on the couch. She has one hand on your neck and the other on your back, while yours are positioned on her waist.
"Well, this is interesting" comments Ona with a mischievous smile.
You blush and try to back off, but the hands of the Latina gently prevent you.
"No... Stay, please" she whispers softly, drawing you back against her.
You willingly accept, placing your face in the hollow of her neck. You smile against her skin when you feel her kiss on the top of your head and you tilt your head to have a better angle for looking at her. She smirks at you and you lean to kiss her jaw, her cheeks and every part of her beautiful face.
Some weeks after becoming official to your friends, Ona had to fly to Spain for a preparation camp for the national team. Your apartment seems empty without your girlfriend because even if you don't live together, you spend almost all your evenings with each other. When you have to study for university, Ona settles down next to you and watches a series on TV, taking advantage of Netflix to perfect her English with Spanish subtitles. Sometimes she falls asleep, waiting patiently for you to finish your work. Her adaptation to Manchester is getting better and better, even though she recently confess that she missed her native country a lot.
Being in exam period, you couldn't follow her and this is the first time you are separated for so long. So you wait patiently for her to call you, you can usually talk to each other through FaceTime in the evening and sometimes she call you at her lunch break. When she can't, you exchange messages. Ona sharing a room with one of her teammates, a certain Laia who apparently plays in Manchester City, you made the decision not to fall asleep by letting your FaceTime on. So you often end your nights exchanging messages, until one of you ends up falling asleep.
Thatâs what youâre doing now. Lying under your duvet on your side, you're already talking to Ona since 30 minutes.
You - Do you want to play a game?
Onita â„ - What kind of game? You know I'm not alone in my room :-P Onita â„ - I'm joking, what is it?
You smile, rolling your eyes. The way Ona seems always scared of hurting you or making you believe things she find strange is really cute. You already told her that you're not made of glass, but it's seems like it's stronger than her.
You - I have 12 questions to ask you and you have to answer the most sincerly possible
Onita â„ - Seems fun. Go on Hermosa.
You - 1) If someone asks you what I am to you, what would you say?
Onita â„ - That you are the most perfect girl in the world and that by an incredible luck you decided to be mine.
You - 2) What are three things you love about me?
Onita â„ - Your kindness, how cute you look when you are focused when you're studying, your face.
You - 3) What makes me different of your past lover/s?
Onita â„ - Well... Everything?
You - 4) What you dislike about me?
Onita â„ - How far away you are from me right now :(
You - 5) What your favorite thing about me?
Onita â„ - The way you show how you care about me
You - 6) What was your first impression about me?
Onita â„ - I wondered why a gorgeous girl like you was alone and when we talked I found you kind, sweet and funny.
You - 7) What are three things I say a lot?
Onita â„ - Oh man, My back hurt, You're beautiful
You - 8) What is one thing you hope for our future?
Onita â„ - I really want us to continue to get along as well as we do now
You - 9) If we where together now, what would we be doing?
Onita â„ - Probably cuddling while watching a movie. And I would kiss you on every inch on your face to distract you from :)
You - 10) What would you be doing right now if we never met?
Onita â„ - Sleeping (This question is sad btw)
You - Sorry baby â„ You - 11) How was your life before we got together?
Onita â„ - I can't say it wasn't good because I would be lying, but you really made it better
You - 12) Will I forever hold a special place in your heart?
Onita â„ - You always will â„
You - Thanks baby â„ You - I can't wait for you to coming home :(
Onita â„ - Me too. Will you be free the day I'm coming back?
You - Won't you be tired?
Onita â„ - Claro, but I want to see you. I really miss you a lot...
You - I'll be there :)
In fact, you even decided to pick up Ona at the airport. Your girlfriend introduced you to some of her teammates during one of your FaceTime, apparently they were curious to see the girl who Ona never shut about. You actually met Laia, Leila, Alexia, Jenni and Mapi this way. But thanks to this you could ask one of them to play the spies and give you the landing time of Onaâs plane. You wanted to surprise her, so it would be strange to ask her anyway.
Waiting with other people in the arrival area, you suddenly felt nervous. What if Ona actually preferred to take the time to shower and relax a bit before meeting you? You began to take a hundred steps, mechanically taking your phone out of the pocket when it will ring to announce the arrival of a message. It's from Ona who announces you that she has landed well and that she is about to take her suitcase.
A few long minutes later you finally see her pass the security doors, pulling behind her not one but two suitcases. The way she scans the room on the way out, you feel like she feels you before she even sees you. And, when your eyes finally meet, you feel like youâre in a movie for teenagers. The rest of the world vanishes around you as she runs towards you and jumps into your arms. Having the impression of finally being able to breathe completely again, you press her against you, smiling and feeling her buried her face in the hollow of your neck.
"I missed you so much" she whispers on your skin before placing her lips on yours.
You smile during the kiss, passing your arms around her waist to squeeze her more against you, making her fly a few centimeters above the ground.
It makes her laugh and ends your kiss, but you canât blame her. You lay a kiss on her cheek as she gently turns in your arms to look behind her and you only realize at this moment that she's accompanied by Laia. She has recovered the suitcases that your girlfriend abandoned and is waiting patiently for the end of your reunion, a smile displayed on her face.
"HolĂ " she smiles, arching an amused eyebrow.
You greet her in return while Ona redo the presentations before informing you that they had imagined sharing a taxi. It's obviously out of the question for you to let Laia return alone and you immediately propose to drop her at home. You borrowed your brotherâs car, as much as it serves the maximum.
"Didn't you leave with a single suitcase?" you question your girlfriend as you walk into the parking lot.
"Yes. But my mother gave me enough to fill my cupboards for the next three years. The good news is that you will be able to taste real Spanish specialties."
"Are you ok?"
Hearing your girlfriend's voice, you turn your face in her direction. You were watching the earth getting closer and closer, announcing that your landing was coming soon. Your fingers were beating nervously on your knee and your teeth were biting your lower lip so hard that Ona was really beginning to fear that it would eventually tear open.
"Iâm a little nervous" you confess by quickly turning your gaze away.
Thatâs an understatement. Youâre supposed to meet Onaâs family today and youâre so stressed out that youâre nauseous. Ona has already met your own family, she had anyway crossed them at the birthday of Alessiaâs brother. But on your side you only met his big brother when he made the trip during a game to see his little sister play. The current has gone rather well, even if the latter seems rather to be the shy kind.
"You look like youâre going to throw up" Ona comment, arching an eyebrow.
"It's a possibility"
Ona smiles and gently shakes her head. Even if she finds your state of stress touching, she has the good idea not to emphasize it. Instead, she gently turns your face in her direction and places a tender kiss on your lips.
"Better?"
You smile softly, feeling the usual butterflies dancing in the hollow of your belly. That this feeling persists after several months together is a daily source of good surprise and joy.
"Mmh⊠Not really"
You try to mask your smile, in vain. However, Ona quickly understands what you want and lays a second, then a third kiss, each a little longer than the one before. Soon after, she backs down but places her forehead against yours, stroking your cheek with her thumb.
"You have nothing to fear, I know they will love you."
"What if they don't?"
"There is no risk"
"If they donât like me, Ona, what do we do?"
Ona seems confident and it reassures you as much as it worries you even more. She is so convinced that she feels no emotion other than a joy to find her parents, her Spanish friends and the places where she grew up. But your question is deep, if things go wrong with her parents, will it lead your couple to a possible end? The idea terrifies you.
"If for some reason they donât like you, Iâll change their minds. But trust me, thereâs no reason why that would happend. Plus, Joan said you're really sweat."
You nod gently as the wheels of the plane touch the ground. Ona lays another kiss on your temple before focusing on what the stewardesses say. They speak Spanish but despite the intensive classes given by your girlfriend, you have trouble understanding what they say. They speak a little too fast and don't necessarily bother to articulate correctly.
After picking up your luggage, Ona takes you to the taxis. She seems to know the place like the back of her hand and you find it interesting to see her evolve in her world. You have already noticed that the timbre of her voice changes when she speaks in her native language and for some reason you find it very sexy. Perhaps because she tends to use Spanish during some of your intimate moments.
You listen carefully when she tells you of memories she has of places you pass through, a tender smile on her face. Stress made you forget that it was a way to get to know your girlfriend better and this realization hits you hard.
Onaâs entry into your life has changed a lot of things, but you must admit that you are also much more tactile with her than what you could have been with your former conquests. Itâs kind of like she contaminated you and since she doesnât seem to be bothered by this behavior, you stopped wondering if you were allowed to be. Then, after a new explanation from her, you lean over her to depose a tender kiss on her cheek, making her smile. And youâre back to vanilla ice cream in the sun state.
The journey takes a little less than an hour, you arrived at rush hour and there are a lot of traffic jams. It seemed to you that the taxi driver recognized Ona but has nothing else let appear than a big smile. But you end up arriving at your destination and you feel your heart start beating too fast and too hard when the taxi stops.
You barely have time to get your luggage out of the trunk of the vehicle and take a few steps into the driveway of the house as the front door opens. Onaâs Mother hurries to join her daughter, probably failing to suffocate her by hugging her. But Ona laughs and you see behind them Onaâs father, looking at his wife with a mixture of fun and tenderness.
"Oi déjala respirar (Let her breath)" he says, hugging his daughter at least as hard as her mom.
Onaâs motherâs attention is on you right after and you smile timidly at her. Now is the moment of truth. Over her fatherâs shoulder, Ona addresses her mother.
"MamĂĄ, te presento a Y/N (Mum, this is Y/N)"
You open your mouth to say something, but before you can you find yourself in a maternal embrace that surprises you. It takes you a few seconds to answer it, but if it amuses your girlfriend, your mother-in-law doesnât seem to take offense at it for a second. Then she steps back and looks at you a few seconds before declaring
"Esta niña necesita una buena comida española (This little one needs a good Spanish meal)"
After eating for like twelve people, Ona take you to her childhood room, where you will both sleep during your holidays. She seems a little shy at the idea of you entering her room and you can't stop yourself to teasing her a little.
"What are you afraid of?" you smile, your hand on the doorknob. "You have a big secret hidden here? A3 photos of one of your ex maybe?"
"None of them. Itâs just I never brought one of my girlfriends home, let alone my room."
Her confession surprises you and you immediately feel guilty for having teased her on the subject. Feeling stupid, you gently bite your lip looking at it.
"I'm sorry"
"Donât be, idiota" smiled Ona, before signaling you to enter the room.
More carefully than an archaeologist entering a pyramid, you gently open the door to reveal Onaâs bedroom. The front door immediately opens onto the large window, giving itself the sea view. A double bed is on the left with a multitude of photos hanging above. A bedside table frames each side of the bed and at the level of the cushions there are several soft toys that seem to date from the childhood of the Spanish. Facing the bed is a desk and a TV, as well as one opening in the wall, giving access to what you imagine to be a dressing room. The whole is in sand and sky blue colors, reminder of the good Spanish weather.
"I love it" you smile, looking around you.
"Yeah?"
You hums, looking at the picture above Ona's bed. You can find pictures of Ona with her friends, her parents, brother, cousins, her on the beach and some of her childhood. Lost in your contemplation, you don't hear when Ona approach you but smile while feeling her arms pass around your waist. Youâre a few inches taller than her, but that doesnât stop her from pressing her chin on your shoulder.
"Te amo" she whispers before placing a kiss in the hollow of your neck.
"I love you even more" you answer her before you turn in her arms to pass her arms around.
"And I think my parents love you very much too"
"Do you think?"
Ona confirms her impression and you lean over to place a kiss on her lips. Itâs a great relief for you, but in a few weeks Ona will surely tease you by telling you that she told you so. But you are so relieved that you already know that you will endure her jokes without the slightest difficulty.
"Do you want to go to the beach?" your girlfriend asks.
You accept happily and long story short, her wall will be decorated with new photos of you two this summer.
Whenever you had the opportunity, you went to Onaâs games. This makes you a regular at the stadium and you start to know most of the staff in addition to your girlfriendâs teammates. Some new players arrived last summer but were apparently quickly integrated into the team. Now that youâve graduated and have a steady job, itâs also easier for you to follow Ona on the weekends when she has matches elsewhere in England. You usually move the same day of the game, the team being hosted in a hotel there are logically no places for you. You donât like those nights away from Ona, to be honest. You are so often at her home that your apartment receives your visit only when Ona is far away and you couldn't follow her.
You canât lie about not being afraid for your girlfriend. Even though sheâs a badass who gets up almost all the time after tough tackles, there have been several times when youâve almost faint. You remember perfectly the match of Ona against Arsenal during which she suffered several tackles rather rough and where she received a blow on the nose which makes her bleed.
Today, against Brighton, nothing could let you imagine that something special would happen. The game was quite pleasant to watch and there were only a few minutes left before the end of the game. It's at the 86th minute that the collision between Ona and the opposing player takes place and the moment you don't see her getting up, you know that something is wrong.
Despite her teammates at her side and the medical staff, your girlfriend takes long minutes before even sitting down. Unfortunately far from the place of the ground where she is, you cannot hear or even see what is being said. And the anguish you feel makes your whole body throb. Eventually, Ona got up to get out of the field and was probably about to return to play. Desperately trying to cross her eyes, it ends up happening and the Latin girl sends you a small comforting smile. It relieves you a bit, but you still feel that everything is not going as well as she would like to let it seem. It would not surprise you, the Spanish already told you that she didn't like to worry people around her.
And youâre right, since after a few minutes of play, Ona sits on the field, not feeling able to play. She's obviously out of the game, but youâre not allowed to follow her, unfortunately. Or at least not right away. Your brother, always with you, has placed a reassuring arm around your shoulders but this doesn't allow your heart rate to decrease.
Itâs only some minutes later that you repent Mark Skinner, the coach, walking down the stairs of the family space to take you with him in the halls of the stadium. He takes you to the infirmary, where you finally find the one that makes your heart beat. Ona is lying on a bed, still dressed in her football outfit and boots. Her face is clenched, her hand on her eyes and she takes it off only when she hears the door of the room open.
"Hi sweatheart" you mumble softly.
She sends you a new little smile as you approach her, Mark having gently closed the door behind you. Not knowing if you can touch her, you decide to sit on the plastic chair next to her bed.
"How are you feeling?"
"Stunned"
You pout and gently place your hand on hers, squeezing it briefly.
"Have the doctors come to you yet?"
"Yes. They think I have a concussion"
That would explain a lot of things. From where you were positioned in the stadium, the shock did not seem so strong to you, but you apparently underestimated the thing. And you feel bad for it.
The door opens again, revealing a nurse and Ella Toone. The english girl carries Onaâs belongings and informs you that she has packed everything without having forgotten anything normally. You take advantage that the nurse looks at Ona to take a look at your phone and finds that you received messages from Onaâs brother and parents, asking you about their daughter or sister. You imagine that they had to write to Ona and then turn to you realizing that they didn't receive an answer. You canât imagine what it must be like for them to be so far away from her, without knowing how she is. The idea makes you shiver.
You hurry to answer them while the nurse makes the last tests on Ona to make sure you havenât missed anything.
"Who are you writing to?" asks Ona frowning.
"Joan and your mother"
She nods and you decide to take her boots off and to put her sneakers. You then help her put on a sweater and jacket, deciding together that she will shower at home. With the prescription and medication in hand, you can go home, much to your relief. Ona willingly lets herself be guided to your car, your arm around her waist and this allows you to realize how much she shouldn't feel good. Even if she's tactile, your girlfriend has a strong stubborn and autonomous side.
After a quick shower, you lay Ona down in bed, dressed in one of your sweatshirts. She seems tired, but not surprising given the situation. She took advantage of the drive to phone her parents and reassure them about her condition, Ella having been responsible for keeping the rest of the team informed.
Leaving her side for a few moments, you search the kitchen to make her a tea and bring her something sweet to eat.
"What do you need?" you ask her, looking at her carefully.
"Cuddle" she pouts and you canât help but smile.
"Give me time to change too and Iâll be right there. In the meantime, take your medicine and eat something pretty girl."
You point to the tray that you placed next to her on the bed and even if she makes the grimace, Ona seizes her medication. You go to the bathroom to refresh yourself and put on clean clothes. In fact, you opt for jogging pants and a loose t-shirt to feel comfortable. After that, you go back to Ona and lie next to her. Ona doesn't lose a second before coming to cuddle in your arms and you gently caress her back with your fingertips.
You get lost in your thoughts, the only noises that can be heard are your two breaths and the noise of the cars that pass at the foot of the building from time to time.
"You scared me today"
Your voice is barely higher than a whisper, but in the calm of the apartment it seems to resonate quite loud. The nurse warned you to avoid too much sound or visual stimulation for Ona at the moment and you intend to stick to it. She comes up a little on you, so she can put her face in the hollow of your neck.
"I'm sorry" A few seconds pass before the brunette speaks again. "You stay the night?"
You snort and roll your eyes.
"Of course. As if I were going to leave you alone here under these circumstances. I wouldnât want your mother to deprive me of her fidĂ©ua."
Ona giggles but you also notice that she begins to fall asleep. Deciding to let her rest, you add nothing, continuing to gently caress her back and hair.
"Sleep babygirl. Iâm here to look after you."
Always.
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Cursedtales CollectionsâLa Luna Chapters:Â { Trick or Treat }
âVampire Duke Gojo Satoru X Vampire Reader
âŠïžÂ PrĂ©cis:
"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.
âŠïžÂ Genre: vampire, fantasy, royalty
âŠïž WC/CW/TW: (1.2k)/ blood, biting, blood-sucking, Grand Duke being an opportunistic hungry vampire, Grand Duke and his subtle love languages
âŠïžÂ A/N: Don't ask me about Lycan Sukuna's Halloween, I might end up feeding him to the dogs insteadâGrey,
"Trick or Treat?" You crouched down with the chamberkeepers who were busy doing jobs.
"M-My Lady, please, let me get you a chair. No need to crouch down. The soot might get onto you." One of the maids was alarmed seeing you crouch down with them and possibly hurting yourself in any way possible. Who knows if the Master is in a lousy mood and fired them because you got hurt in any way possible? The eldest maid sighed.
"I'm fine, anyway. What's a trick or treat?" You stopped her. Satoru's overprotectiveness of you seems to have rubbed into everyone in the Ducal Palace.
"Oh, it's a human tradition, where kids go around with a basket, asking people..." The younger maid explained to you, and everyone else seems to know such a thing except you, who was once a human.
So here you are, holding a basket, walking over to a particular room at the far end of the East Wing.
It's a strange concept for you. As far as memory goes, you have never left the snowy mountains, and the sight of other humans that wandered through the vast plains of snow is tragically zero until Satoru came. As for His Grace, the chamber keepers already told you he has never once shown interest in such festivities, even when he was a child, so it's unlikely for him even to know such human traditions.
That's quite something Satoru would do. You thought. You can imagine some kid approaching him exclaiming a trick or treat, only to be shot down by his icy glare. You covered your mouth as you chuckled. Indeed, that's something that will happen. However, you're curious about his reaction if it was you.
You knocked, a single and double tune which you have grown accustomed to, and almost everyone knows that tune of knock can only be from you.
You tried to knock a second time, but the door opened, and before you could speak, you were drawn into a tight embrace. A soft sigh lingered in your neck as an arm wrapped around your waist. Perhaps minutes passed or a few more until he spoke.
"Everyone seems to be busy and making a lot of noise. It's making my ears hurt." Satoru pulled you into his office and closed the door. His eyes surveyed you, and you couldn't miss the slight raise of his brow when his eyes landed on the basket in your hand.
"Trick or Treat!" You exclaimed before your mate could speak and pushed the basket towards him.
A poignant pause passed. You couldn't see his reaction because, for some reason, you don't know you closed your eyes.
"... Well, aren't you supposed to open your eyes?"
You looked up to Satoru, a bit embarrassed as you sheepishly laughed and brought the basket back, clutched to your chest. Gosh, you should've known better than toâ
You felt the basket sink a little. Satoru retracted his hands and hummed.
"Why did you take the basket back?" He asks.
Inside the basket is a pack of cookies, oddly shaped like a kitten...
You looked up to him in surprise. His Grace shrugged and softly pushed your shoulders to direct you to the couch.
"What's with the surprised face, Kitten?" Satoru chuckles. "Afraid to eat the cookies?"
He's just teasing you. He sat across you, putting the pack of cookies on your palm while taking away the basket and setting it on the table. His hand took your feet, removing your shoes while softly massaging your ankles on his lap.
"So you actually know what a Trick or Treat is, Your Grace."
His Grace incredulously snorted at the remark. He raises a brow at you.
"Do I look that old not to know such childish pranks?"
"Well, you are old!" You giggled as you tried the cookies that tasted divine. Small chirps of delight fluttered from your lips as you made sure not to waste a crumb.
Unfortunately for you, you missed the dangerous glint from His Grace's eyes at the way you bite on that cookie and the way you are unconsciously making those heavenly sighs and munching.
"Oomph!"
The next thing you know is that you're pinned down on the couch. Your mate's breath lingered over your neck while his hand slowly bunched your skirt up to your waist, revealing your supple thighs to his glowing eyes.
"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.
"W-Wait! That's not a cookie!" How could you not ever learn? You gasp, feeling the way his bared fangs drag across your sensitive inner thighs, teasing you with the tingling sensation. Satoru removed his gloves so he could caress the back of your legs, kneading your full, velvety thighs as he nipped and sucked on them until you writhed underneath his touch.
Satoru chuckled and kissed the bite mark from last night that had yet to disappear.
"You are sweeter than any candy..."
"Ngh!"
His sharp fangs sink into your inner thighs. It was mind-numbing how his tongue lapped up any trickle of blood that tried to escape from him. He moaned at how sweet and full your blood tasted on his palate, filling in his greedy thirst as he kept sucking and lapping up in your thighs. The gasps and moans you added were more than enough to entice him even more in teasing you with his soft kisses between his licks.
Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see the grin on His Grace's lips as he licked the last of your blood. His bite mark closed up, leaving but two faint marks of his fangs to remind you how he just enjoyed his treat.
His Grace wipes the droplet of your blood from the corner of his lips and sucks on it one last time before pulling up his clothes, exposing to you his glorious body, rigid muscles, and enticing veins tracing his body hardened by battle scars like art. His thumb softly brushed through your cheeks as you panted sweetly underneath him. He can't help but chuckle and kiss the tip of your nose in silent adoration. His arms flex as he cajoles your tired body to sit on top of his lap.
"C'mere, Kitten, I'll feed you something sweeter."
Needless to say, His Grace has a different kind of Trick or Treat tradition engraved in his mind. Consequently, the chamber keepers got a generous raise after that Halloween season...
âGreyCaelum,
PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME
Check out more on La Luna Chapters and the Masterlist
All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).
General & Cursedtales Collection Taglist:Â @ice-icebaby @aeanya @saoney @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @rizzmin @emichou-chan
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