#but it's also a state I find myself in way too often these days and I don't think it's healthy💀

[cacospirit]

Emmrich reads Thirst Tweets

Emmrich: Hello, I'm professor Emmrich Volkarin and today I am joining the LADBible to read Thirsty Tweets

*intro plays*

Emmrich: All right then shall we? Let's get to it... "I think if Emmrich sat me down to talk to me about life-work balance while giving me praise that would fix me"

Emmrich: I think we all can do with a bit of that, now and then. Not because we are broken, but because we are human. The human condition is not something that can be so easily 'fixed' in a one and done sort of manner, rather it requires constant maintenance in form of love and support that we should all strive to provide for each other

Emmrich: Next we have... "Hey Emmrich you're supposed to be a bone expert but I haven't seen you live up to the name. I think you need to demonstrate, preferably on me. Please and thank you"

Emmrich: Ah, a cheeky bit of double entendre going on here, in a quite polite way as well, If I may say so. I suppose common courtesy isn't entirely lost in this digital medium. I would be amiss to not point out that necromancy is not only the study of bones. They are, of course, the vessel, that much is true. But it is what the vessel contains that truly matters, the spirit, the soul. That's what makes necromancy so unendingly captivating, for me at least.

Emmrich: This one, quite succinctly, states "Who is the daddiest of daddies and why is it Emmrich"

Emmrich: A question and its answer, all wrapped up in one. That's certainly a time efficient way to get your point across. I'm not fully confident that I live up to that kind of apotheotic superlative but I could certainly aspire to. The qualities we associate with a paternal figure can of course feel very comforting even as we reach adulthood, and I'd undoubtedly see it as an achievement if I could provide that, especially to Manfred and my students.

Emmrich: And here we have..."Emmrich could throw me into a volcano, resurrect me, and then throw me into the same volcano again and I'd still spend eternity singing his praise in the afterlife"

Emmrich: Oh... we got a bit of... violent imagery going on here. Certainly not unheard of in romantic prose. After all, what is longing if not aching of the heart? Being taken from a loved one can often feel like a dagger to the heart, and quite often I think we feel like we'd rather take the dagger. There... might be a bit confusion here about the nature of necromancy. We can not 'resurrect people' as such, as a spirit is brought to animate a body some may claim, myself included, that the past soul has imprinted in a way on the mortal vessel, but it's not the same person. But... a very passionate proclamation we got here, that is for certain. Not that there's anything awry with that, after all, does not every proclamation of love feel like shouting from the rooftops? We might as well say it with our chest any of the times we are given the opportunity

Emmrich: So, let's see, our next inquirer has as much to say as... "Day 465 of trying to find out if Emmrich has used blood magic to turn me into his se[BLEEP] slave or if my brain is just spaghetti from gooning too hard"

Emmrich: that's... uhm, there is certainly much to unpack here. So... 465 days? That's.... quite a long time for sure, nevertheless.... uhm, yes. Blood magic, I think it's important to recognize that no mage is every truly safe from the allure of its promise of near limitless influence and power. Although... typically it's less often found in necromancers since our usual subjects don't possess blood. I don't practice blood magic, not only because of the deeply unethical aspects of its execution but also... I believe the best way to spread influence is through knowledge, not by some arcane force of hand. So I guess this troubled individual is more inclined to find the explanation of... brain, turned into spaghetti? To hold true here. I suppose at times a state of cognitive disarray can very much feel like our heads contain nothing but a sloppy mess of tangled up thoughts. And... gooning? Goon, like a lackey? Well... in moments of reverence it's certainly easy to get consumed by but one singular thought.

Emmrich: With that out of the way... lets move on to the next one, let's see... "Hey Emmrich how is the lichdom coming along? I could sure use a lich as a dom"

Emmrich: Well... a rather clever rearrangement of words here. Achieving lichdom is not about dominance, regardless of... what the name might imply, if you read it with a certain type of bias anyways. In many ways it's the opposite, becoming a lich is about wanting to protect against the type of forces that seek to achieve... dominance. Not saying that it would be inherently undoable or unethical to have that kind of consensual agreement with a lich, but... it's also certainly not something that follows the title.

Emmrich: Oh, this one looks nice: "Many look at Emmrich and say that sexy does not have an expiration date..." I'd be inclined to agree with that! The nature of human attraction cannot easily be confined as narrowly as our usual societal standards often suggest "...but since there is no way to know for sure I think Emmrich should f[BLEEP]k me raw as soon as possible while we still have time"

Emmrich: well... I.... uhm, there's probably... I don't think there is a need for haste at this very moment. While it is true that we should seize any moment to live our lives to the fullest I don't think... this, is necessarily the logical endpoint of that line of reasoning. But... they do provide some semblance of logical reasoning here, which is of course commendable.

Emmrich: Oh, that was the last one? Well then, we have done what we came here to do. We have read all of the thirst tweets that you have put out there on the internet

Muffled voice off screen: these are just a few that we picked out, there are a lot more than this

Emmrich: Oh there's more? Well, maybe we could say that we have read most of them at least

Muffled voice off screen: well, some of them

Emmrich: some of them let's just say some of them. Thank you to LADBible for having and thank you all aspiring writers for these literary tid bits. This has been thirst tweets

[lieutenantselnia]

Sometimes you just find quotes from historical figures that make you go "yeah, they may not have been particularly the best person ... but the specific thing they point out right there, big mood"

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day five.

Thigh riding (1k words)

summary: Lando is too busy to help you relieve what you are feeling, but he lets you take care of yourself on his thigh.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, needy!reader, bit of mean!lando

It was a quiet day in your shared home, but not the type you enjoyed. You were both home, and today was supposed to be your designated lazy day, given that Lando didn’t have a race coming up this week and you were taking a few vacation days to be with him. 

However, something related to work always dragged Lando into his office; you were just hoping that wouldn’t happen this time. But it did. 

You were in your room, bored out of your mind, trying to find something to entertain yourself with — anything, but nothing would work quite as well as your boyfriend did. After realising you wouldn’t find something on your own, you decided to join him in his office.

When you opened the door and came in, you made sure to be as quiet as possible to not disturb whatever was so important it couldn't wait another day. He was supposedly going over some important emails regarding a new helmet design for one of the upcoming races.

He looks so good when he is focused, you thought, and the fact that he was only wearing a black tanktop and matching shorts didn’t help your growing needy state. 

You knew that what he was doing was important and that some of these things had to be done by midnight so the design could be approved by the sponsors in time, so there is no way he was stopping. You were very aware of that, but you also needed him. 

Lando started feeling a little too cocky as he realised how needy his girlfriend was feeling, so maybe there was something he could do. Maybe not helping you as you were hoping, but a little teasing could be fun. For him, at least.

“Are you okay in there?” He asked after you shuffled on the couch for the millionth time since you got there. 

“Are you almost done?”

“No, baby.”

“But I need you.” You blurted out, not caring how pathetic that sounded. 

“Not now, Y/N. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Please, I’ll be quick.” You begged. 

He didn’t even look at you, and he was trying hard to suppress that smirk that was threatening to appear on his face. Lando maintained his composure and acted like he was considering it, even though that was his plan all along.

“Fine, but you will take care of it.”

“What? I don’t wanna play with myself-”

"You can ride my thigh," he said, interrupting your failed attempt to seduce him. Your heart completely stopped when you heard those words come out of his mouth. 

“What?” You asked, and Lando simply repeated himself.

“I said you can ride my thigh. This is the best you will get, so make up your mind. And no touching, sweetheart.”

You made your way to where Lando was sitting, admiring the way his exposed thighs looked in those shorts. You would have said no and tried to beg for more, for him, but like Lando said, that was the best you were gonna get with how busy he apparently was, so you decided against it.

You slowly sat on his lap, placing your centre on his right thigh. Lando didn't even look at you; he just raised his eyes over your shoulder to keep working on his computer, making it clear to you that he meant it when he said you would take care of it.

Shyly, you started rolling your hips, eyes closed as your mouth let out soft moans every so often, but as the pleasure began increasing, so did your pace. 

Damn, he couldn’t deny how absolutely beautiful you looked riding his thigh, and as much as he tried to block out how needy he was starting to feel, he failed miserably. 

You hands gripped his shoulders for stability, but eventually they slowly travelled down his torso, finding the hem of his shorts. The plan was to slide one of them into his boxers and help him with his hardening cock, but he immediately stopped you, slapping your hands away and placing them back on his shoulders. 

“Stop. No touching, remember? Just take care of yourself.” You nodded and went back to work.

As you continued grinding him, he could feel his thigh covered in your arousal, filthy wet, and slick noises echoing through the small office. You left wet kisses on his neck and shoulders, your lips letting out more and more whimpers when he didn’t stop you as soon as you started devouring his thick neck, moaning even louder when you noticed him swallow hard. 

Lando tried his best to focus on the words in front of him, but having you being a complete mess literally on top of him made it hard, and it made him hard. It took his full strength and self-control to ignore his painful length and not ask you to take care of it like you tried a few minutes ago, but that somehow made it hotter for him.

You were getting close, and the sounds that left your mouth were making less sense, his name slipping out a few times, and just as he knew you were reaching your high, he couldn’t help it anymore, so he dropped everything and gripped your hips, guiding your movements.

“That’s it.” His forehead was damp with sweat, and there were a few strands of hair sticking to it, a single drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Lando’s touch made you feel more electric as he helped you quicken your pace, desperate for a release. “Come on, baby,” He whispered, making you give in.

Your entire body was shaking as your nails dug into the soft skin of his shoulders, gradually stopping as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good job. You can go now,” he said in a serious tone. You struggled to get back on your feet, but as soon as you did, your eyes went straight to Lando’s thigh, glistening in your arousal.

↺ back to navigation — Kinktober masterlist

[i-like-writing-stuff]

the other five; part 2 [ five hargreeves x reader ]

okayyyy so it’s not my best work and i hope it is not too rushed or cheesy i have my best and i hope i didn’t crush y’all’s expectations 😭😭 writing this i literally gave no shit on the paradox psychosis, it’s also an AU where they did save the world, and not to mention again that everyone, including reader and five are around 32, basically the same age as the rest of the family

hope y’all still like it tho 🥹🥹🥹

part one

“I can’t believe how bad you suck at Scrabble in every single timeline, my love,” Five laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as you threw a wooden piece at him over the table, offended to say the least;

“I can’t believe what a piece of shit you are in every timeline!”

“Oh, she’s also a sore loser in every timeline!”

As you threw yet another wooden piece at the man before you, you couldn’t help but get infected with his contagious laugh and burst into giggles as well. Five was smiling from ear to ear, as he was heavily laughing, with a hand over his chest, as his other one was resting peacefully on top of yours on the table.

You were sitting on the rug, on each side of the coffee table in your living room. It was a peaceful Thursday night, and you didn’t really have anything planned. You worked all day, so you figured that a glass of wine and some chocolate to snack on while watching a movie would be a decent end of the day, but a couple knocks on your door changed that.

It had been a while since you met Five, a couple of weeks maybe. Nothing short of a miracle helped you save the world for good this time, but that’s a story for another time. Things were actually looking up for you, as the Hargreeves siblings were all safe in one piece, as well as your own parents. Viktor was visiting you in the States a lot more often, Allison, Klaus and Claire resumed their day to day lives, Luther was trying to reabilitate the old mansion for good this time and actually own it, Ben and Jennifer were happily together, as Diego and Lila were doing their best to save their marriage for the sake of their three children.

As for Five, last you heard he was still in the CIA, but that was about it.

The Five from your timeline, that was.

The Five standing in front of you, he was an entirely different story.

After he comforted you the day you and Five broke up, you tried to prioritize your interests and went back to help the family stop the apocalypse. In spite of how much you wanted to just lay in his arms until you went completely numb, you knew that if that’s where you were meant to be, you’d find your way back eventually.

And you did.

“Fuck me, that was draining,” You rubbed your face, falling onto the dusty leather couch with a loud thud, next to Allison.

“You’d think we would get the hang of it by now,” She sarcastically said, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“If there’s a fifth apocalypse, let’s just let it happen,” Klaus suggested, as some of you couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“At least this one wasn’t Viktor’s fault,” Luther pointed out, making Viktor waive his arms;

“Excuse me?”

“I’m swear I’m gonna kill myself,” Ben rolled his eyes bored as ever. On the surface, that was.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” Lila raised her brows at the man.

“Do it later, we literally just saved your sorry ass,” Five pointed out.

“And to think that after all this shit, on Monday I’m back to delivering packages…” Diego deeply sighed, as you all turned to judge him.

The nine of you were standing in the middle of the old mansion, trying to catch your breath after your hardest efforts yet to save the world. It was a mixture of everyone’s powers, a droplet of a miracle and lots of yelling around, but eventually you did it. You could finally breathe again and not worry that tomorrow may not come.

However, it didn’t mean that you weren’t suffering anymore. You tried your everything to keep your composure around the Five from your timeline and Lila, since apparently even Diego was willing to make amends. He loved his brother and his kids far too much, as well as his wife. He was willing to put it all behind, after all, you were given a second chance and he was not going to waste it.

“Am I going crazy or is that another Five?” Klaus pointed towards the main entrance to the living room, as your Five walked in with a slight smile across his lips and his hands in his pockets;

“I wouldn’t have bet my last two cents that you idiots would have actually managed to save the universe.”

“Asshole,” You giggled, getting up to run instantly into his arms.

Five was taken aback by your sudden excitement for a mere second, as he stumbled a step back, but not wasting another second to wrap his arms around your waist. He walked you back from the diner to the train station that would take you back to Five, and eventually back to your timeline a couple hours ago, but if you were to be honest it felt like forever since the last time you saw him. In spite of being literally yet not really the man who crushed your heart that day, you found such an intense comfort in him, it was stupid.

You were still grieving your old relationship, you were still heartbroken over what had happened. Six years with Five on your side were not that easy to get over, but this one truly helped you feel better. He was so thoughtful, so sweet and kind, yet sarcastic and sassy, he was totally your perfect match, which was insane since you thought that your ex-boyfriend of six years would be your soulmate.

“I hate you,” You declared, crossing your arms over your chest, “You have no business making fun of me- you’re like a hundred years old.”

“Don’t- Don’t go there and make it awkward,” Five instantly said, raising his hands in front of you, “You’re making me feel like a pervert.”

“As you should,” You lightly shrugged your shoulders, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully.

The two of you started spending a considerable amount of time together lately, as he managed to make himself comfortable in your timeline. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy, not only because he had lost his own Y/N, but he also hadn’t seen his siblings in such a long time. In his timeline, they didn’t manage to save themselves after Reggie reset the timeline at Hotel Oblivion, so getting his family back in a way was surreal to him as well.

Five felt alive again and it was all because of you.

All because he stumbled upon the love of his life that day in the subway system, the same woman who brought him back to his family. Maybe they weren’t actually the ones from his timeline, but they were his family nonetheless.

“Okay, one more round so I can shut your trash mouth again,” Five declared, straightening his jacket, as he leant over the table to rearrange the board.

“I can think of another way you can shut my trash mouth,” You smirked, leaning forward on the table as well, resting your weight on your elbows.

The two of you took things surprisingly slow. You couldn’t deny the instant connection, after all- you were a couple in every single timeline. But you couldn’t help the need to avoid the rush. Sure, you held hands sometimes and bump your knees under the table, or he would place wild strands of hair behind your ears and you would sometimes fix his tie for him. You also tended to share tight hugs that lasted maybe a second too long, or linger some touched here and there, but you neither of you ever had the courage to bring it up in a discussion.

You had never even kissed.

“My, my, is my little Y/N getting impatient?” Five mimicked your smirk, lightly grabbing your chin between his index and thumb.

One thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have feelings anymore for your ex-boyfriend. There was no doubt about that. You just didn’t feel it would be wise to jump into another relationship so soon with his doppelgänger, but after these past few weeks you were so done waiting.

If there’s one thing you learned from saving the world one too many times it definitely was that you should not be wasting precious seconds.

“Aren’t you?” You asked, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out where he stood on all this.

“I’d wait for you decades, darling,” Five confessed, running his thumb across your bottom lip in a gentle manner.

He loved the feel of you, every square inch of your body- he couldn’t get enough of it. He would touch anywhere possible, he wanted to pepper kisses along every part of you, but he did mean every word he said. He did want to wait for you for as long as you needed until you were ready to be with him, truly.

“Promise?” You couldn’t help but wonder, as Five let go of your chin to put some fallen strands of hair behind your ears, “Would you actually wait for me?”

“It’s not even up for debate,” He nodded, getting up from the floor, straightening his three piece suit.

He offered you his hands, as he lifted you to your feet as well. You didn’t know exactly if your legs were numb because of how long you’d been sitting crisscrossed on the floor, or simply because the man before you made your knees weak with one smile, but you knew for certain that you never wanted this night to end.

Five cupped your cheeks in his hands, as you naturally rested your hands on his chest. You were so smitten by him, but in all fairness- how could you not be? He was doing everything right, giving you all the love he had and a bit more extra, while still being his true sassy self that you loved so much.

“Kiss me, please,” You whispered, looking into his beautiful eyes, feeling as you were slowly losing yourself into the moment.

Five smiled as he leaned in slowly to give your lips a light peck, as careful and attentive as possible. His long fingers found their way into your hair, as your own arms wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer. He took that as his cue to go in for a more passionate kiss, capturing your lips with his in just a matter of seconds, losing his whole being in that moment to wrap himself around your pinky finger.

Anything you wanted, he would go through the ends of the world to get it for you- and that was an understatement.

[pikp0kcas3]

The Hazbin Hotel fandom’s issue with accepting aromanticism and asexuality

Now that it is officially Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, I want to talk about this!

I find that, as an aroace myself, I am constantly grasping at good representation and coming up empty— it usually ends up in one of two ways.

One: the character is portrayed as emotionless, cold, and robotic in nature. It’s the question aromantic and/or asexual people are often asked: “Are you heartless?” The answer is no, of course, but general media makes it out to be the opposite.

Or two: Their lack of attraction is seen as something to “fix” because they “haven’t found the right one yet”, and they end up with a partner as a “happy ending”.

It frustrates me greatly because of how little people actually see aromanticism or asexuality as a true part of the LGBTQIA+ community.

So when I watched Hazbin Hotel, and I found out about Alastor being aroace, I was over the moon. I was on cloud nine. I also saw how his voice actor has looked up the term as an attempt to learn about aroaces, which makes me OVERJOYED?? Amir is truly a blessing, and I love that he’s proud to embody a character that’s part of our community. It’s so beautiful to finally have a proper character, a fan favorite at that, who just so happens to be aroace— and that’s another thing I love about this.

It’s never explicitly stated in the show (though it is stated in interviews), but it’s rather clear when you’re watching, isn’t it? Alastor’s aversion to any sort of sexual advancement, coupled with Rosie’s blatant “I know you’re an ace in the hole” comment sort of spell out his asexuality pretty clearly, as well as what side of the spectrum he falls upon. In addition, his Valentine’s day card was strictly platonic, which caters to his aromantic side. It feels so validating to finally be represented, to finally have a character in media who shares the same lack of interest in romance and sex as I do.

When I entered the fandom to look for more content, I kind of expected to see the same respect for Alastor’s orientation there too. But that… wasn’t the case? I am fully aware that aromanticism and asexuality are both spectrums— of course, aromantic and/or asexual people can enter those kinds of relationships. I’m not denying that and they belong in the community as much as anyone else on the spectrum.

But, the more I see the same line again and again and again, the more it feels like an excuse to just ship what you want.

Usually I don’t mind shipping? I’m often a firm believer in people shipping what they like as long as it’s harmless and they don’t go crazy over it. I also know for a fact that Viv doesn’t have a problem with people shipping her characters. They are fictional, after all.

But in this case, people are ignoring the very thing that makes Alastor a part of the aroace community! People are ignoring his lack of romantic or sexual attraction!

Is this not the same as changing a gay character’s orientation to suit a straight ship? If not, how so? I’m told that we are a part of this community, so why aren’t we being treated like it? Why is it so hard to accept the people on the end of the spectrum who aren’t interested?

Something I’ve been noticing throughout my life is that society has not exactly progressed very much on the idea of accepting asexual or aromantic identities. Maybe we have, a little, since the old days— but hell, people in “the old days”, which in truth wasn’t very long ago, believed that asexuality was a medical condition to be “fixed” by taking the right medication or having sex. That’s a pretty low bar to clear. And on the romance side, you’re seen as a “late bloomer” or “boring” if you don’t express interest. These days, being friends with someone is treated like a gateway to them possibly becoming a lover. Not getting married, not going on dates, not wanting a partner— it’s all treated like a crime when it’s not.

Maybe I’m selfish, or sensitive, or I’m butthurt over nothing, or I’m making it all about me. Maybe I’m gatekeeping or whatever the term is. But please, please, please, I just want an aroace character like me who simply is not interested in sex or romance.

And I want fandom to respect that. I admire the creations that fans make— the art, the animatics, the writing and the character analysis. And I want people to keep creating because creation is indeed a beautiful thing.

But I really would like people to treat aroace identities like they’re important. Like it’s more than just a spectrum to get wiggle room to wrangle in another ship.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + five

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist

words: 8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…..

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

Could learn him.

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

“Hey, Solana.”

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

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

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because she still feels it.

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

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

And heat too.

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

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

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

Safe.....

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

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or ever. 

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

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

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

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.” 

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

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

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

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

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.” 

And he is. 

6 years, to be precise. 

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

“They have you.”

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

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She can wait.”

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

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

Nia. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination. 

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

But, that’s not the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same with Naomi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always figures shit out.

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if—”

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

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

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

He recognizes that fully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he does find her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is exactly what happens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on," he encourages.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

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

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

Especially with his next order.

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

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

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

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

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

And it turns her stomach. 

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

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

She’s wrong.

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

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

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

She just doesn’t have them to give.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry—”

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

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

Waiting for him to hit her.

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

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

Not until this moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Big mistake.

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

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

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

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

—------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

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

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

Solana

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this….he can meet her halfway.

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

Solana,

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

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

I’m taking you somewhere.

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

I promise you that.

Roman

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories | nine | Azirel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

A/N; *to the tune of Britney Spears* OOps I DID IT AGAIN. Also I'm more nervous about this part than I have been for this entire series, so be nice and kind and I hope you enjoy <3

Mor showed up a few days later. She appeared as you were lounging in a chair, attempting to read some random romance novel you’d come across. 

“He’s taking her to The Weaver,” She stated in lue of a greeting. 

“Well then he’s a fool,” You snorted, not looking up from your book. 

“YN,” She warns, “He’s taking her to The Weaver.” 

“Yes I heard you,” you roll your eyes and look up, “What difference does it-” 

You stop upon seeing the look on her face. The worry and the pain hidden there. You swallow the lump in your throat at the sight. She looked at you like you would break at any moment, and maybe you would. Maybe she saw the truth in you. 

“They’re mates, aren’t they?” You question, voice sounding strange. 

She only nods and moves to sit on the couch across from you. You nod slowly in understanding. You wanted to be happy for them, but somehow you couldn’t feel it. Like there was something wrong with you. Like you were broken. 

“I had a feeling,” You tell her, “From the moment she became Fae and he came for her the first time. I had a feeling.”

It was true, you did have a feeling. Something deep within you told you that they were drawn to one another in ways that neither of them could explain. You often wondered if that was the same with Azirel too. If you were secretly mates, you used to pray for it as a child. Because you couldn’t imagine a better mate than him 

To this day you still couldn’t imagine a better mate. But how could he want you now? Mate or not. You’d never have the same relationship that you had before. Nothing would be the same. How could you pretend to be the same person you were when you were taken when everything around you was different? You weren’t sure how you were going to do any of this. 

“Please come home,” Mor begged. 

“I can’t,” You try to keep your voice from breaking, “I can’t go back there.” 

“Why?” She demands, standing from the couch, “Why are you denying yourself this? It’s Valaris! Your favorite place in all the world! You hate being here, you always have.” 

“Maybe I deserve to be here,” You mumble, “Maybe I deserve to be away from all of you.”

“What are you talking about?” She questions. 

“I didn’t try to run when I could have. I gave up. I fucking gave up and accepted my fate there,” You explain, slamming your book shut, “I let myself become Tamlin’s little play thing, I allowed him to strip my powers away. I let him do everything to me and I never fought back.” 

“You never deserved what happened to you,” She shook her head, “I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t have given up either, if I’d been in your shoes.” 

“I spent fifty years thinking all of you were dead.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“I really did give up then. Because I realized Rhys wouldn’t be able to come for me. Up until that point, up until she took him, I was convinced he would come save me. That all of you would somehow find out I was still alive and come marching into the Spring Court and raze it to the ground.” 

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts that were swirling about. Your back ached along the two big scars. Everything about you just hurt. Your skin, your head, your chest, your heart…everything. You just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop. 

Mor sat back down and reached over to take your hands in hers. There was nothing but love in her eyes, no sign of the pain that you saw when she first arrived. You want to pull away from her, pull away from the tender touch that reminded you too much of your mother. 

“You survived,” She swore, looking deeply into your eyes, “You made it out. You were brave and cunning and you survived. That’s all that matters now.” 

Your head shakes again, “No, it’s not all that matters. You can’t understand, none of you can.”

“Then help me understand,” She begs, “Help me understand what’s going on. Help me help you.” 

“You can’t help me, Morrigan,” You said, standing up and ripping your hands away from hers. 

You walked to one of the large widows, wondering how bad it would be if you flung yourself from the Palace. How much would it hurt when you crashed into the mountain below? Would it be enough to bring you the release you so desperately craved? Would Mor be able to stop you in time? 

You thought long and hard about it, but in the end you turned away from the window. Hating yourself for even thinking such a thing. It would destroy Rhys to get you back only to lose you again. You couldn’t do that to him. That was the only thing stopping you. 

“Azriel knows we’re hiding something,” She says from her spot on the couch, “I’m not sure how much longer we can hold him off.” 

You nearly cringe at the sound of his name. Cauldron, what is he going to do when he finds out about you? How will he react? Will he even want to be in the same room as you? Will he be able to stand to look at you after everything you’ve done? 

“I don’t care,” You lied, “I don’t give a fuck if he thinks you’re hiding something. You don’t tell him about me.”

“Yes I know, Rhys’ order was very clear,” She rolls her eyes. 

“You should go,” You tell her, “Before they wonder where you are.”

She sighs and gets up from the couch. You can tell she wants to say something else but decides against it. You watch as she disappears into darkness. You finally felt that you were able to breathe once she left. 

You fell deeper and deeper into the darkness as the days went on. The feeling in your chest only got worse with time. You wondered what would happen if you went down to The Hewen City. What would they do if their princess suddenly reappeared after so many years. 

You wondered if they’d kill you, just to spite Rhys. Or if they’d bow down to you like they used to. But then you remembered one of the last conversations you had with Azriel, and how he hated the way so many of the males talked about you and you felt sick. 

Everything surrounding Az seemed to make you feel that way these days. You could feel it deep in your chest, the sort of ache you always seemed to feel whenever you were away from him. After all of these years it still hadn’t subsided. In fact it seemed to be getting worse as each day passed by. Like being back in the Night Court and being so close to him was making it worse. Or maybe it was the fact that the Faebane was finally starting to wear off and your powers were coming back. 

No matter the reason, you weren’t sure that you could go on like this any more. You didn’t know how you could live with the constant ache forever. Because you never planned on going back to Valaris, you couldn’t face the city you loved after what you did. After how you allowed your mother to be killed. She loved Valaris, and loved flying over the city. And it was your fault she was dead, no matter what anyone else said. You were to blame. 

You didn’t expect Rhys to appear several days later. He looked tired. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and tell him that it was going to be okay. But even you didn’t believe that. You couldn’t believe that it would be okay. Too much had happened. 

“We’re going to the Summer Court,” He tells you, “Feyre, Amren, and myself.”

“Enjoy.”

“Little Star, tell me what to do,” He begs, stepping closer to you, “Tell me how to help you.”

“I’ll tell you like I told Mor,” You sigh, “You can’t help me.”

“Come back to Valaris, be with your family.” 

Your head shakes. You couldn’t bear to face Cassian and Azriel. Not now, maybe not ever. It’s something Rhys could never understand. He was able to readjust easily after Amerantha. But he hadn’t spent hundreds of years being beaten and mistreated. He wasn’t starved and drugged every day. You couldn't be mad at him, as much as you wanted to be. Because you knew he suffered too. 

“I can’t come back.”

“You keep saying that but you never say why,” he challenged. 

“Because it’s all my fault!” you finally broke, tears streaming down your face, “It’s my fault, Rhysand. She could still be alive if I had just done something. Anything. But I didn’t.”

“If you’re to blame, then so am I,” He countered, “It should be just as much my fault. I told Tamlin where you would be. I’m the one who didn’t come to meet you as I promised, I left you undefended.” 

“It’s not your fault, Rhys,” You felt anger boiling up in you now. 

Because you didn’t blame him. You never did. He had duties to attend to that day, you understood that he couldn’t get away. He trusted Tamlin. The son of spring had him fooled, and that was not Rhys’ fault. Not in the slightest. 

“Then it isn’t your fault either,” He gently argued. 

You can’t help but shake your head again. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. He wasn’t there. He didn’t hear her. He doesn’t see her every time he closes his eyes, he doesn't hear her screams in his nightmares. 

“You don’t understand,” You cried, “She didn’t even beg for herself. Even as they cleaved her wings from her body, she only begged for my life. Begged for them to set me free. Even as they hacked her to pieces, she cried for me.” 

“Y/N-”

“I’ll live with that knowledge forever,” You sob, “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To know that you failed your mother? That she died for nothing, because you are nothing?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s true. I have nothing left to give,” You shrug, fighting back the tears, “There’s nothing left for me.”

He surges forward and grabs your shoulders, “Don’t say that. Don’t you even think about it. Never think about something like that. There is so much left for you in this life.”

“It doesn’t feel that way, Rhys,” You feel numb all of the sudden. 

The void is back. And you’re once again a shell of yourself with no fight left to give. You sag against Rhys’ hold on you, wishing you could just crawl back into your bed and forget that this conversation ever happened. 

You wish he would just leave already so you could just disappear within yourself again. You wished he would just leave you alone to waste away. It seemed to be the only thing you could think of doing these days. 

He looks into your eyes and goes silent for a moment. You know the look he has, he’s speaking to someone, mind to mind. You feel anxiety well up within you, because you have no idea who he’s speaking with and what he’s telling them. 

You can only hope that it’s Morrigan and nothing else. You can only hope that he’s trying to ascertain how serious you are about having nothing left. But then shadows ripple in the room, subtly at first, but enough that you realize it. And it’s not you calling to them 

“You promised me,” You cry, hitting his chest, “You fucking promised.” 

“I won’t let you wither away to nothing,” He says sternly, “Not when there’s someone who can stop it.”

The shadows take form. You rip yourself from Rhys’ grasp and try to run but you hardly make it out of the room before the man is then flesh. You know the second he’s here, because you can feel it in your very bones.  Like a song in your blood. You try to keep moving but your body betrays you and stops. You think that maybe he won’t take notice of you. Maybe he’ll be too focused on Rhys. But then you hear footsteps. So hesitant, so light you hardly hear them. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, or maybe it’s his. You think you might drop dead here. Right in front of both of them, and then where would they be? Your hands are shaking, just like the rest of your body. But you keep your back towards him, too afraid to turn around. 

A hand reaches for your shoulder. His touch is featherlight, but you can feel his scars through the thin material of your shirt. You knew it was him, long before he touched you. You could smell him better now though. Could feel that void in your chest slowly starting to fill. 

As if his very presence was enough to bring you back to life. 

Hesitantly, he speaks. Voice so silky and deep, just as you remembered it in your dreams. Only now it’s a dream made real, and he’s here. You’re alive and he’s alive and suddenly he’s gently spinning you around to face him. 

There are tears in his eyes as he opens his mouth, “Y/N.”

It’s the only thing you hear as he studies your face. Your lip trembles as tears fall anew. You can feel the air filling your chest, nothing but the scent of him filing your nose. For the first time in years you want to smile, because he’s here. And more devastatingly beautiful than you remembered him being. 

“Az,” you cry out softly. 

He pulls you into his chest, holding you there tightly. For the first time in a couple of hundred years, you felt complete. You nuzzle into him, still crying, getting his leathers wet with your tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to care though, because it just felt right. You could feel it deep within your chest, the part of you that always seemed to connect you to him. 

“You’re alive,” You can hear the disbelief in his voice, and the wonder too.

“You’re alive,” You cry, finally allowing the words to sink in. 

He was alive, after all of these years. He was untouched during Amarantha’s rule. Valaris was untouched. Everyone that you loved was okay, and so were you. Somehow, for the male holding you and your brother, you would fight to be okay. 

He pulls away from you and cups your face. You watch as he looks you over, carefully scanning your body. Any of the lingering bruises from Tamlin had faded away into nothing. There was nothing to prove that anything happened at all besides the two long scars on your back. 

“Y/N,” He whispers again, “Oh my Y/N.” 

Then he leaned in to kiss you and it was as if your whole world shifted to just him. He was the only thing that mattered. Just Azirel. Always only Azriel. Your Azriel. Your perfect, beautiful, scarred Azriel.

Tag List

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[anemonelovesfiction]

20~ Age Gap

So’lek x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: P! In V!, fingering, unprotected sex

Part two to this

Not proofread

MDNI 🔞

It’s the last day of Heatwave In Pandora and I’m saddened by this but also excited for having been a part of all of this with y’all. Thank you so much for those who participated and enjoyed my stories as well!

Word count: 2.2k

To say I was embarrassed about what happened during just before the comet’s raining across the sky was an understatement, I had been completely mortified of the situation, I’d basically masturbated in front of So’lek, and I think he did too? But the fact that I had been caught talking in my sleep- like I do most nights- had been too much for me to attempt to show my face around him again. I’d practically grown to avoiding him during any situation possible.

He’d attempted at steering my mind in the opposite direction that night by helping me draw giant penises on my coworkers masks, making sure each of them had a different kind of drawing on it. And the comets also helped for the time being, each of them pretty much being wished upon as they flew past us in a beautiful shimmer.

But another reason I had to learn to avoid So’lek was his age. He was in his forties and I was only twenty two, I was undeniably too young for him- and not even the same species. That was a considerable age gap and I’m sure the reason he doesn’t have a mate is because everyone in his clan had perished, but had any woman from his clan caught his eye, I’m sure he would have been mated with children by now and I’m certain he doesn’t even tolerate me to begin with- I’m human!

I’d been avoiding having to come into contact with him, strategically avoiding all of the areas he frequents, ensuring that I had something to do far from our base whenever they had their meetings -or went up or down on a different level when it was raining- and when all else failed and he was near I either ignored him or found a way to push someone else into his direction to hold a conversation with him. It was pretty easy considering Priya was a chatter box, she often went off on tangents, and did very well at allowing me the perfect amount of time to escape.

But today was a different day. Priya had gone on a patrol with Anqa while all of the Sarentu were busy doing some kind of training quest without So’lek, and here I was trying to look into a way I could quickly disappear while being in his sight, finding it futile to find a hiding spot and not being able to find a single one I give high hopes that Eywa is listening to my prayer that he wouldn’t need anything from me only to be proven wrong.

“You and I need to talk.” He stated as he stands directly in front of me, arms crossed and his hip tilted to the side, he looked so babygirl, but I couldn’t even think to laugh at a time like this. I could feel the adrenaline starting to course through my bloodstream and I felt jittery.

“In private.” He adds after having looked around before staring right at me. I could only gulp and nod at this moment wondering why the great mother would betray me at my most vulnerable moment, I can see So’lek turn around and motion with his head for me to follow him, and like a lost puppy with my head hung down in defeat, I do.

It hadn’t taken us long to reach the fourth floor which housed all of our rooms. I’d ended up spacing out long enough to pass him before looking up and realizing he was behind me, turning to face him and realizing I’d cornered myself between a wall and his body. Damnit.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks without beating around the bush and I start to think of a million excuses in my head, opening my mouth to spew whatever first bullshit lie could come out, closing it as he speaks again.

“Don’t lie to me.” He states as he crosses his arms waiting for my answer and I couldn’t help but chew on my bottom lip.

“I was embarrassed.” I admit and cross my own arms to try to shrink into the wall, my room was just around the corner and if I bolted I think I could make it, but I looked down instead.

“Why?” His voice is deep and holds me captive as I stand there looking like an idiot and shrug.

“If you have forgotten already I joined in too. You saw the evidence on the ground.” He speaks so steadily that I’m tempted to look up past my lashes but refrain from doing just that.

“Thats not it- well mostly- but not all of it.” I pull myself closer together and pray to Eywa that I could disappear at this moment to walk away from the conversation but feel his finger underneath my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks once more and I couldn’t stop the shiver from running down my spine.

“I know you won’t reciprocate my feelings, I’m too young for you, and I’m not Na’Vi.” I stated honestly and want to look away but can’t find it in myself to do so, only for him to throw his head back with a chuckle, I could feel the embarrassment creep up on me once more and anger from him laughing at me.

“Whats so funny?” I asked with a huff, wanting to hit him on the arm for laughing at me.

“I do not care that you are tawtute nor your age. You are old enough to make decisions for yourself and you can choose if you want me or not, that is what matters to me.” He responds and seems genuine for his answer and it causes me to freeze.

“What are you saying?” I asked as the confusion was settling over my features, brows lifted and furrowed together, eyes searching his for clarification.

“Must I show you?” He asks simply and I’m still confused.

_________

He sits me onto my own bed as he kneel’s before me, being taller than me even if I’d been standing, he cranes his neck down and captured my mouth with his, his hands on my hips as he slowly shimmies my pants and underwear off in one go, tossing it off elsewhere without breaking the kiss. His hands returning toward my thighs as he squeezes them gently, his tongue inserted into my mouth as soon as I gasp, my own moan following after.

Our tongues don’t battle for dominance as I knew he’d win, his massaging mine as our lips toss and turn for him to do whatever he wanted to me, I didn’t even know how wet I’d gotten until he’d inserted a finger into my cunt and it slid right in. Another moan slipping through my lips as I lean my body back for him to get a better angle, finally breaking the kiss.

“So’lek~” I moaned right as he inserts a second finger easily, I’d thrown my head back at some point, lifting it back up to see him looking right at me with a smirk.

“Wipe that smirk off your- f-f-fuck,” I cuss as he moves his fingers swiftly in, caressing my sweet spot the entire time he’d gone in, my head lolling back and eyes closing as I attempt to focus on the pleasure.

“Lay back.” He instructs and I listen, laying my body back onto the bed while my legs dangled off the bed as did the bottom half of my ass, but I didn’t care at this point as the pleasure was too good.

“Lift your legs up and don’t let them touch the ground.” He stated again, I lifted my legs and settled the hells on the edge of the mattress, feeling his breath on my cunt and constricting myself around his fingers, a dark chuckle rasping through, driving me absolutely wild. His tongue takes a swipe up my cunt and I couldn’t help but gasp followed by a moan as he thrusts his fingers back in.

“Fuck, please go faster-“ I struggled to get out as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of me, kissing my sweet spot periodically and making me thrash my head around the bed, surely adding knots to my already messy hair.

“I want to make you cum.” He mutters before placing his lips around my clit and giving a harsh suck, my hips jumping up at the sudden contact, a wail escaping me as he continues suckling and fingering.

“So’lek, fuck!” I yell out as he runs a stripe along my clit, his rough tongue catching in it and rubbing against it deliciously I couldn’t help but buck my hips upward. A pleasing hum running through his body and from the depths of the obscene noises happening in this room, I could hear a gentle rumble, almost like a purr.

“I’m coming-“ I could feel my eyes crossing behind my eyelids and my vision turning white as I feel myself rhytmically grasping his fingers, his movements never ceasing as he continues to plow through my own orgasm and I could feel myself start to lose my own breath in the process.

“You taste delicious.” So’lek comments as his fingering comes to a standstill, I lift my head and open my eyes even when they felt too heavy to keep open and looked at him with a lopsided grin. He only stares right back at me, taking his fingers out of my cunt, and sensually licking the juices off them. I could only stare at him as my own grin fell, the heat returning to my core as I watched him and heard him continue to purr with approval, I lunged toward him and brought his face onto mine and kissed the ever living fuck out of him, breaking the kiss as I started breathing heavily to catch my breath and placed my hands on the fingers of his loincloth.

“You are eager.” He mutters.

I look up at him and see he’s smiling down at me, I blindly undo the knot keeping his loincloth on as I stare into his eyes as well, the look of surprise crossing his features as he looks down at himself to see his loincloth falling off. His cock coming up to slap him in the stomach.

“I’m efficient.” I corrected him and watch the amusement dance around his eyes.

“How’s about you take a turn on the bed while I play with you?” I ask with my hand on his chest running it down his abs sensually, looking back up at him through my lashes.

“You couldn’t handle me.” He threatens and I take that as a challenge.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with a brow lifted as if I was taking him up on his challenge.

_________

I bounced on his cock again as I could feel the fire in my belly growing larger, one of his hands had been settled on my hips, guiding me up and down his length, his purring had returned tenfold from the moment he’d slipped the tip in, and here I was taming him and taking his cock like I promised.

“How is it you can take so much of me in your tiny body?” He strains through his teeth as I continue bouncing off his cock not bothering to quiet down.

“P-pu-pure w-will,” I rasp out while continuing my task, leaning my body over to rest slightly as I move my hips up and down his giant cock, close to the edge already.

“So’lek, I’m- fuck- I can’t!” I wail as I feel my clit being brushed against his pelvis every time I slam myself down.

“Let go, I’m right there too-“ He squeezes my hips tight and I look up to him eith my own eyes struggling to stay open, his own eyes closed as he basks in the pleasure I’m providing him, deciding to fight to keep my eyes open to see his orgasm face when a sudden thought occurs to me.

“I w-wanna s-see you,” I rasp out desperately as I slow down in my pace but continue going rough. I feel his other hand carefully caress my cheek up toward his face, his eyes already opened and looking at mine, and with that I come, it took everything in me to not close my eyes but the euphoria I felt dancing around my body.

“Fuck!” He groans out loudly as his hands go straight to my hips, holding me down on his cock as I feel the tip of him kissing my cervix and explode all over my womb, spurt after spurt of come hitting my womb in a way that sent tingles through my toes.

“Holy shit-“ I mutter as I feel my body ramped up into yet another orgasm, feeling entirely spent as my body limply falls onto So’lek’s my breathing heavy as I attempt to catch my breath, the orgasm still coursing through me as my pussy contracts around him, his own purring dying down as his hips slowly push up against mine.

“No no no, wait-“ I begin before feeling his knot forming and pushing into my body, locking us into place for the time being, but I was too spent to fight it anymore.

“I’m sorry yawne, I didn’t plan for this to happen.“ So’lek begins apologizing but I shake my head as I struggle to lift myself for him to see me.

“It’s okay, we’ll just have to stay here for a bit.”

“You do not mind being tied to me?”

“Think of it as our version of Tsaheylu.”

[shalfeis]

I really like your hsr character as a cat can you do the other way around?

Like reader as their cat 👀?

cat!reader x astral express

possible ooc

The Astral Express often travels to a variety of places and planets, and it's no secret that the crew finds interesting curiosities, things, and so on from time to time. Or the residents themselves bring unusual items as a thank you.

Actually, this time you and the other crew members helped one merchant, and he showered you with thanks and gave you a whole box of various cool things.

Some were very ordinary and nondescript, others were a little more interesting. But what caught your attention the most was an amulet with a blue gemstone. Surprisingly, it perfectly matched your image, as if it was originally made especially for you.

You calmly walked with him all day and at some point began to feel strange. The last thing you remember is going to your room. You woke up on the floor, fumbling with your paws and meowing, instead of talking normally.

What happened next?

March 7 was the first to discover that you were missing. Although, like, she was just walking towards you, as you had agreed to spend the night, and found you. At first she didn't understand where the cat was coming from on board the train, but from your desperate attempts to explain and reactions, she guessed what was what.

She thinks you're charming. She didn't stop chirping about how cute you were and took a whole bunch of photos non-stop. You're afraid that the camera might run out of memory. And when she heard you meowing and purring softly from her caresses, that's it, March grabbed the blow. It's too charming.

Caelus didn't help either. He flew into March's room, saying something about trash and a recently released game along the way, and fell silent when he saw you. After a moment of hesitation, he joined March. Caelus wouldn't be Caelus if he didn't tease you and act like you're really a cat instead of a human in a cat's body.

Of course, it was fun with these two, but this situation started to bother you. I would like to get my original body back. But you couldn't not take advantage of your situation. So while March and Caelus were distracted by an argument about some nonsense, you slipped through the door and headed for the only sane person on the express.

To whom? That's right, to Dan Heng. Since Himeko and Welt were away because they were away on business, you could only count on him.

You prayed to find him in the archive, and fortunately, the eons heard you. He was sorting through the data when you snuck into his room. You gently touched his hand, and he was surprised to find a cat in his room.

- Hmm? Hmm, I don't remember that we took animals on an express train - Dany picked you up and began to examine you.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together and realize that you were in front of him.

Before he could come up with a plan of action, Caelus and March 7 came to him with a very guilty look, crying that they had lost you. However, they quickly calmed down when they saw you in Dan Heng's arms.

- Y/n, that's not fair! We almost had a heart attack! - Caelus looked offended and relieved at the same time.

- Exactly! You need to warn us before you go anywhere in this state! - March was indignant, although she gradually calmed down that you were okay.

You, as is typical of a cat, turned away from them, wagging your tail. I also made myself more comfortable at Dan Heng's. The three of you started a playful altercation, which caused the archivist to smile slightly. He was definitely enjoying this situation.

After calming down, they began to discuss what to do. Having made the most reasonable decision, Dan Heng contacted that merchant and began to ask about this amulet. As it turned out, he did not think that there was still energy in the amulet, so he gave it as a gift. Fortunately, the amulet's effect doesn't last longer than a day, so all you have to do is wait.

Although, sitting back and doing nothing is too boring, isn't it? That's what you thought, and you decided to have a pajama party in Dan Heng's room (not that he was against it). After a few hours, you were completely exhausted and fell asleep.

Upon returning to the train, Himeko and Welt found the four of you sleeping with your arms around each other. They giggled and decided not to wake you up, quietly going to another place to discuss a recent trip.

a/n: I thought it would be a bit boring to write as reader is a cat of the characters, as I did before, only the other way around, so this came out.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Hey Anon, I saw your message this morning! 💜

You pointed out "Yall need to be careful of bi erasure" and linked to a post someone made about me. I appreciate the heads up! To be honest, I’m not concerned about people suggesting that I’m doing bi erasure. Whether it’s regarding Pedro characters in canon, head canons, or bisexuality in any other way. But hey, everybody can have their opinion about things, including what they think about me.

I dont talk much about myself here, but my tumblr bio has said from day 1 that I’m a bi woman. My master list mentions most of my fic “is queer (m/m, bi4bi, m/m/f, non-binary and trans characters)”. Folks who have read my fic know I've written pairings where every character is explicitly bi ( Frankie x f!reader x Santi; Peña x Rockford x OFC; Ezra x f!reader x Benny Miller, and WIPs with Joel and Marcus M, Frankie x f!reader x OFC and Maximus x Acacius x Lucilla).

Can bisexual people still do bi erasure? Sure!

Do I worry whether straight folks or other random folks online think I'm involved in bi erasure? Nahhh.

Anyway, I did make some posts the other day based on anons submitted to me about issues re: queer representation in this fandom. Let me just direct you to the several posts I made on that day, which started in response to a question about Renaldo:

"Was Renaldo Gay in the SNL sketch?? I've seen a lot of blogs saying he wasn't?". TL;DR version of my response: the ending of the song states "word to the wise, if you've got wives, hide them from the three bros!" suggesting that Renaldo, Domingo, and Santiago all hook up with women/wives. Considering Renaldo hooked up with Matthew, that probably makes him bisexual (and not the fact that he had Sophie, aka Sabrina's character, dancing up on him) - or queer, or someone who doesn't like to label himself. However, while 'hide your wives' works linguistically as a great punch line to wrap up the song, it does not refer to Renaldo's affair with Matthew (now that is bi erasure, if you wanna be exact), so I did point out that 'hide your spouses' would've been more accurate - but understandably, that's not as catchy. I'm currently writing a Renaldo x Matthew one shot, and I said my headcanon has Renaldo as gay - but that's my interpretation/hc/fic.

Someone wrote to me: Some blogs in the fandom is hellbent on taking away any attention away from anything mlm based with his characters anyway so it wouldn't matter in Renaldo was gay - someone would find a loophole to make him like women. TL;DR I agreed, because there are people who definitely do that. It became part of a longer thread of reblogs with some other folks in which we talked about how Pedro's mlm (men loving men) characters, such as Oberyn, Dieter and Silva in particular, either tend to be canonized primarily as bisexual by people but in fic are almost always paired with women (f!reader or OFCs). Which is fine, but people are definitely interested in seeing more m/m representation for those characters. Someone also brought up that when Pedro characters are paired with non-binary reader inserts or OC, it tends to be mostly afab!nb (or afab!trans characters), and that they were surprised that there weren't more amab!nb characters - that's a great point too.

I made a post with an anon message that pointed out "MLM includes bi, pan and queer men. They might like women. (And/or other genders, but they still like men)". Very correct!

Finally, there was an excellent long message from an anon saying "We need more representation of bi people in same-gender relationships represented" and that even in threesomes or throuples (fic) that include two men, there should ideally be more mlm representation. Once again, I fully agree. Everybody should write whatever they want, but I do often see threesomes that are listed as Pedro Character 1 x reader x Pedro Character 2, but in the fic it's more like reader having sex with two straight men at the same time while they're trying to not cross swords, rather than mlm being represented. THIS IS DEFINITELY CHANGING THOUGH: it's wonderful to see a big increase of mlm characters in threesomes/throuple fics over the past year!

So here is my main issue with a lot of people who are raging about 'bi erasure', and why I've made several posts about queerness within this fandom (not just recently, but from the start). Of course bisexual people exist (hello, it me, for one). Pull up some statistics if you want: there are a lot more folks who identify as bisexual than there are folks who identify as gay or lesbian. I'm an older millenial, so if you wanna talk about bi erasure: the measure in which it happens today is nothing compared to the bi erasure and deeply engrained homophobia we experienced in our teens and twenties from society at large. However:

🏳‍🌈 In your rush to point out bisexuals exist, you're shutting down a much broader dialogue with people within the LGBTQIA+ community. 🏳‍🌈

Because have you noticed how gay men, nonbinary/genderqueer fans, amab!trans or amab!nonbinary FANS (not fic characters; I'm talking actual people) are extremely underrepresented in this fandom? In addition to in fic? And that these fans won't have their fiction or actual posts shared all that much? Or that when they carefully speak up, e.g. about being happy to see Pedro portray Silva as a gay character, they're immediately rebuffed and called biphobic or that they're trying to erasure bisexuality?

Yeah. That part.

It's messed up.

Nobody is even making demands. Nobody is even saying "what writers are doing is wrong". They're just saying, "This is a bummer". And some of us are pointing out that mlm Pedro characters in m/m pairings are hard to come by, which is too bad because it's not only us queers who read m/m Pedro character pairings - there are lots of straight fans out there who have indicated they like reading that, too.

Are you gonna call that bi erasure? Or marginalization of women? Or anything really except for what it actually is? Fans are just saying "yknow, I wish there were more fans/fic characters/bodies in fic represented in this fandom that look and feel more like me". People seem to have finally understood that in varying degrees when this applies to body type or racial/cultural background (which took many white people a lot longer to fully grasp; BIPOC folks have been saying this for such a long time already) - it's about diversity and wanting to feel included. But when gay or transfolks say this about mlm, a whole bunch of y'all are crying bi erasure?

In short (and I can't believe I need to even fuckin' say this):

The Pedro fandom or its fic does NOT belong exclusively to women.

It does not belong to cis folks, to straight people, or any other particular group of people.

Aren't we all just trying to be a community? Then stop acting like people reading Silva or Renaldo (or any other character) as gay are erasing bisexuality - that's not the case or the damn point.

And anon-- my critique truly isn't directed at you, I'm not dragging you in any way. You took the effort to bring something to my attention, plus you clearly care about people, and I appreciate that a lot. But there are tons of people who don't dare to speak up about this in public settings, so I can't help but take this opportunity to not only clarify what I said earlier -- but also to address the bigger problem at large. Read or write all the gossip blogs you want, by all means, but maybe also consider using that time to actually connect with people.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons

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A/n: I wanna emphasize further headcanons for Sylus cause he got me in a chokehold, NSFW isn’t a lot cause I couldn’t think of much. I hope you like this one! Also, when I was writing this, Rafayel was on my screen saying “Babe don’t move, I wanna see if I can see myself in the reflection of your eyes” I am so sorry baby boy. Also, I apologize for the separated posts, I, once again, reached the Tumblr limit. <( •̀ᴖ•́)>

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader

Not beta read!

Warning: Toxic! Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Forced Drug Usage, Exhibitionism, BDSM, Sadistic! Sylus, Cussing, Blood, SYLUS! (He gets his own warning) If there are warnings that I didn’t notice, please let me know, thank you!

Masterlist Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons (Part One)

Sylus NSFW Headcanons

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SFW:

✄ He wouldn’t forget about the men you keep in your life; they’re so obsessed with you that they all got impacted by your disappearance, especially Rafayel, who was the one that got you into the situation, he knows that the guy was the reason why you almost died, twice? Was it thrice? Anyways that’s too much for someone who says that they loved you for 800 years, (He’s a full-time stalker, do you think his raven wouldn’t hear your conversation when that man got hospitalized?)

✄ For his amusement... he usually tends to give them little trinkets of your possessions where they live or lets you send a message to them once in a while. Just to mess with them, after all, they're the ones who got to have plenty of time with you, and yet here you are, in his home. He considers himself the winner right now.

✄ Out of all the male leads, the one he considers to be a big threat was Lumiere, the number of times he almost got caught with you, that man is crazy. (as if he isn’t) so whenever he lets you out, he makes sure you’re not identifiable, it’s simple really, he uses a device that changes your appearance to look vastly different from your looks.

✄ In terms of Physical affection, he would do it when you still despise him, he’d force you to kiss him, planting his lips on yours while you squirm from your chains, try to bite his lips, he’ll slap your thighs with a baton, specifically your inner thighs mind you, since it hurts so much more there. Yeah, keep trying to hurt him, he’ll make sure to give it back tenfold.

✄ Does he hug you? He does, though the type of hugs he gives aren’t comfortable, it’s where you can’t move, can’t leave or squirm your way out of his hold, he’s strong enough to hold you down.

✄ Cry for him! He likes seeing your tears, angry tears, or pained tears, he doesn’t care, he just wants to see you sob. While he loves that you’re bratty, he also prefers obedient mutts as stated in the first headcanons. If he needs to punish you for that he’s very much willing.

✄ He does drug you often. He likes watching you turn into a mush, a pliant pet for him, he doesn’t take advantage of you in this state though, he just gets tired of your constant squirming when he wants your cuddle after a long day of work, he’d come back to his home, his bodyguards and servants greeting him enthusiastically (they’re forced to) while you on the other hand, just spat insult after insult to him. He would appreciate the feisty personality you have if he has the energy for it.

✄ He’d grab your cheeks in a bruising grip before he grabs a pill box, finding the right drug to put you in a state where you reciprocate his love for you, he forces your jaw open before pouring 3 pills into your mouth.

✄ “Drink” he’d ordered, you gasped, trying to push the pills out of your throat, “spit it out, you’ll regret it” his voice harsh, while he forces cold water down your throat, making sure that you drank it, the moment he lets your cheeks go, you’d be coughing and gasping for air, he drenched your shirt too cause of what he did, but he doesn’t care, you’re acting like a feral dog, be ready to be treated like one.

✄ The moment the drugs start to circulate in your system, making you tired and obedient, he’ll carry you to the bed, where you were supposed to be, but didn’t like being on since that bed reminded you that you were trapped.

✄ In times like this, he turns vulnerable, asking you to tell him how much you love him, he likes hearing it, you never told him those words, and he could only hear it when you’re drugged out.

✄ You cuddle him, breathing ragged while he traces his fingers on your back, causing you to shiver, it was cold and hot at the same time, and the only comfort you feel is when you’re pressed against his body, he is the only solace you feel when you’re in this state, and you hated it.

✄ When he tells you he loves you, you respond so eagerly, like a proper mutt.

✄ He'd plant kisses on your face, his hand gently holding your back to adjust your position on his lap. Your skin, warm from the effects of the drugs, pressed against his. Seizing the moment, he continued kissing you, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he left bites, he’d savor your whimpers.

✄ Oh, but if you mention any of the male lead’s name except for him while you’re in a dreamlike state,  he’d be fuming with jealousy, but it’s not obvious, his subtle hints would be on his body language, the way his kisses became rougher, he bites your bottom lip, breaking skin and making you bleed, if you wince in pain, he’d have a sneer on his face.  His grip on your back would go to your waist, chubby or not, he’d have you under his mercy, his hands tugging your cuffs and placing your wrists on top of your head.

“Even if your brain’s a mush you never fail to hit a nerve pretty”

✄ After you fall asleep under his “care”, he’ll take care of you, changing your outfit before he tucks you to bed, you’ll often wake up alone, but with a letter that says that he’ll be expecting proper etiquette from you next time.

✄ Does he say “I love you” to you? If you’re still mad at him, he would out of spite, He would infuse it with such sweetness that it’s guaranteed to make you angrier. Honestly, he loves seeing you try to piss him off. Keep going, love; you're at least one step closer.

✄ On the other hand, once you develop Stockholm syndrome, he won’t say it much, you didn’t become boring, he just likes seeing you desperate to please him, to get his love so he stops his affections just for you to beg for it.

✄ Is it hard to withhold loving you? Nope, it’s easy for him, he lived without your constant affection, even during the months he kept you in his home, you didn’t give him the privilege of your love, so he doesn’t mind not touching you at all, not giving you the attention you want, or the verbal affirmation if he still loved you.

✄ Once you start crying and begging, that’s where he’d hush you, petting your head before he kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry pretty, I’m here now, don’t cry” He’d coo before you hug him as if your life depended on it.

[toychest321]

Ugh, I've been meaning to post about this doll for what feels like ages! Allergies have been pretty bad this week, but I've finally been able to pull myself together enough to post about Fulla's prayer dolls!

According to the Islamic blog Alhannah.com, "The purpose of a prayer outfit is twofold – to respect the sanctity of prayer by covering one’s ‘Awrah’ (parts of the body that should be covered in public) and to uphold the principles of modesty".

"A prayer outfit typically encompasses a long, loose-fitting skirt paired with a top that has a head covering (Hijab), collectively ensuring that the body remains concealed during prayer". The website also states that there are one-piece and two-piece versions of the outfit, the choice between the two often coming down to preference of the wearer (in this case, it seems Fulla prefers the latter)

Muslims pray five times per day: once in the morning before dawn (Fajr), once at midday (Dhuhr), once in the afternoon (Asr), once after sunset (Maghrib), and once in the evening (Isha).

As far as I can find, there have been three prayer dolls of Fulla released. Two are for the Fajr and Isha prayers respectively, and one is for a process connected to all five!

Fulla's first prayer doll was released in 2004 with a doll-sized prayer mat and prayer beads for yourself!

Prayer mats are used to ensure the ground is clean while praying. Prayer beads, meanwhile, are used for dhikr, a process of prayer recitation after each of the five daily prayers. The beads are typically counted for each of the 99 names of Allah recited, however with certain prayer beads consisting of 33 beads instead (such as the one included here) they are counted 3 times over. The first 33 recitations are "Subhan Allah" (Glory be to Allah), the second 33 are "Al-Ahamdulilah" (Praise be to God), and the final 33 are "Allahu Akbar" (God is greatest). After these you must pray "Laa ilaha illallah wahdahu la sharika lah lahul mulku wa lahul hamdu wa huwa ala kulli shay in qadir" (There is no god worthy of worship except Allah alone, with no partner or associate) once.

Her next prayer doll was released in 2006 for the Morning Prayer (Fajr)! While I can't definitively say the same for the prior Prayer Dress Fulla, this doll wears indoor clothes underneath her prayer outfit to start the day! She comes with a prayer mat and bag, and (it says on the box but its hard to read) a prayer booklet of the Morning Prayers! And I hadn't even known this until now for this doll or the next, but apparently there's a button on her back that makes her recite them (batteries included)!

I like how much the pink pops against the white! Although the outfit is decent, it looks a bit plain compared to her other indoor looks (although that could have been intentional). I don't have any particularly strong feelings on her fashion, but it's decent!

The same year a doll for the Night Prayers (Isha) was released as well! Underneath her prayer clothes she wears a pair of pink pajamas with gingham detailing, with matching pink slippers! It seems she also came with a prayer mat, bag, and booklet (this time for the Night Prayers) as the Morning Prayers Fulla did! And yes, she also has a button to make her pray them with you!

I love these pajamas so much, they're so cute!!! And the way they match her prayer outfit too??? Indoor-fashion-wise, I probably prefer this one over the Morning Prayer's indoor outfit.

Overall, I love how all of these dolls not only represent a significant Islamic religious practice, but encourage children to do it with her! Between the prayer beads and voice button, I can easily see this doll joining in prayer with her owner :)

And not too difficult to imagine either, since Fulla has also made officially branded prayer clothes in 2005, 2007, and as recent as 2024!

Anyway, I'm glad I was finally able to dive deep into this topic like I'd been meaning to look into for a while (now to get some sleep as it is currently 4am)

Ramadan Kareem!

[writingdevil]

hi!! :3 ouh for the writing request, if you dont mind, how about smitten and opportunist? i like them as a ship but you can do them platonically too if you prefer 👍👍

(I think they'd be such a good ship! The one who manipulates and lies meets the world's most unabashedly passionate and loving person in the world! I think Opportunist wouldn't be able to help but fall for Smitten's words of love, and that Smitten would find Opportunist's attempts to charm and suck up to him adorable! Anyway, enjoy!)

"How do I look?"

"Absolutely beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Opportunist smiled at the way Smitten's feathers puffed up under his praise. Smitten had been complaining about the state of his feathers, and Opportunist had so graciously offered to preen him, and Smitten had been nothing but grateful.

They were currently sitting on Smitten's bed, and Opportunist's eyes were taking in every inch of the room-not that it was very shocking or useful.

Smitten kept his room at a really weird halfway point between messy and clean. He had handwritten poems and emotional letters strewn all around his desk and windowsill, but the entire area around his bed was spotless, not a stray feather to be seen. It was as if Smitten was trying to look as put together and as perfect as he felt was needed, but his passions and intense bursts of love spilled out into his room. It looked like he was trying to impress someone, but that someone was also making Smitten express himself in the most chaotic way possible.

Opportunist didn't mind it, really. It was nice to be allowed to peer inside the private rooms of his flockmates-most of the others didn't trust him inside their bedrooms, but Opportunist thought they were being overly cautious. He wasn't going to back stab them or anything-just look at him and Smitten! He's been preening his wings for half an hour, and Smitten didn't have a hole in his back yet. He'd say that was all the evidence the others needed.

Smitten hummed lowly as Opportunist straightened a feather that was awkwardly poking out, and the sound made a low heat form in his chest. He wondered if Smitten would keep making sounds like that if he showed him how good at preening Opportunist was.

Opportunist wasn't sure why he even offered to preen Smitten, besides the fact that Smitten was incredibly kind and was never mean or distrusting to Opportunist once. It was just-nice to not have to work so hard to please others. Smitten was so easy to convince that Opportunist was genuinely sweet and innocent, so he never had to perform that much for him. In a weird way, this was the closest thing Opportunist could call a break for himself, to not use one of his many masks so much, even if he was still wearing one.

Smitten just made everything feel lighter-not as important, and Opportunist really liked that.

Opportunist smiled, leaning back to inspect his handiwork. "All done!" he announced, and Smitten straightened up, glancing over his shoulder to try and look down at his wings. "Really? Oh, thank you Oppy, you are a darling. You took such good care of my precious wings-what a sweetheart you are."

Those words went straight to Opportunist's head, covering his mind with a blanket of warmth he doesn't usually feel. He ducked his head and smiled softly, hoping Smitten didn't notice how his words were affecting him. It wasn't often that Opportunist got complimented, much less for something that he was doing honestly.

Smitten looked over his shoulder, and Opportunist was quick to replace his soft smile for a confident one. "May I repay you for your kindness by preening your wings?"

Instinctively, Opportunist's wings tensed up and pressed up against his back. He tried to keep the panic and anxiety out of his voice as he chuckled and said, "Oh, you don't have to do that for me, Smitten."

But Smitten's voice was firm and determined as he responded with, "Yes, but you were kind enough to take some time out of your day to care for me. I'd like to return the favour."

Opportunist shook his head, going, "No need! It's what flockmates are for. Besides, my wings don't need to be preened." Opportunist spread out one wing for Smitten to see, showing the perfect condition they were in.

Opportunist would never let anybody preen his wings. It required too much trust and vulnerability on his part, to turn away from someone and show his back to them. Opportunist wasn't about to put himself in a position where all his feathers could be ripped out in a matter of moments. That's why he made sure to preen them every night by himself in the comfort and safety of his own room.

He felt Smitten slump in defeat as he looked at Opportunist's wings, and said, "They do look lovely right now. You clearly have a talent for taking care of things."

Despite how incorrect Smitten was, Opportunist still flushed at the compliment, quickly folding his wings behind his back so that Smitten didn't see how much his words affected him.

He knew that he needed to leave and compose himself, but Smitten unexpectedly sighed dramatically and leaned back against Opportunist's chest, putting all his weight against him and trapping him to the spot.

Opportunist froze, hands awkwardly hovering in the air, the feeling of Smitten pressed against him making his head spin. Had anyone ever casually leaned against him before? He knows Contrarian does it to anyone near him, but Opportunist wasn't sure if he's ever been a victim of it.

"U-Um-Smitten? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine,"he replied calmly, lifting a hand in the air to gracefully wave Opportunist's concerns away, "I just wanted to rest with you. Is that alright?"

Was it? "I-I-I guess so." Opportunist was mentally kicking himself for stuttering like that. This was Smitten-there wasn't any way that this fanciful bird was a threat to him. He needed to calm down.

Smitten tilted his head back to meet his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he studied him for a few seconds, and Opportunist tried extremely hard to look as composed and as confident as he usually does. After a few seconds, Smitten hummed in that way he liked and said, "You are very handsome. Did you know that?"

Out went his composure.

"Excuse me?" he squeaked out, feeling his entire face heating up in a way that he knew he couldn't hide-and don't even get him started on his feathers!

He gulped, and laughed lightly, hoping to distract himself from the thumping of his heart. He looked away as he casually said, "What are you talking about? Smitten, you're the prettiest bird in this land. In fact, if you ask me, I think you're the real attraction of this flock by a long shot." He laughed again, hoping to get rid of these damn butterflies in his stomach.

Smitten just continued to silently gaze up at him for a few seconds, before Opportunist saw the moment that Smitten's eyes darkened.

He couldn't explain it-other than it looked like Smitten's face went from soft to sharp in an instant. The usual light twinkle in his eyes were replaced with a hungry and predatory glint that honestly scared Opportunist.

Smitten's voice was low and husky as he said, "You think I don't know the truth about you?"

"What?" Opportunist whispered, all confidence and bravado being ripped away at that voice, and all he could do was helplessly stare as Smitten straightened up to his full height, taller than Opportunist by a few inches. He still stared down at him over his shoulder as he said, "You think I can't feel your heart pounding against my back?"

Before Opportunist had even a chance to try and think about how to take control of this situation, Smitten suddenly twisted around and pushed Opportunist down on the bed, pinning his wrist above his head.

"Hey! Smitten, what's gotten into you?"he fearfully asked, the intensity of Smitten's gaze sending a shiver up his spine, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Smitten's smile was somehow still as charming as ever, as he leaned down closer to Opportunist to lowly say, "You can't hide your feelings from me. I know love when I see it, and I know exactly how people react to the things they love."

He leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly as he studied Opportunist, and said in a curious manner, "You, for example, simply love it when people give you attention. When we compliment you or touch you or even look at you for a certain amount of time, I can see the desire for more in your eyes. That's something you can never hide from me."

Opportunist had no idea who he was talking to anymore. This couldn't be Smitten, could it? No, Smitten was the one who loudly declared how he was feeling no matter how early it was. Smitten was the one who insisted on speaking and spending time with everyone almost every day. Smitten was soft and non-threatening, which was why he was always Opportunist's go to bird to speak to.

But was it actually because he liked it when Smitten touched him and complimented him? It was nice to be around Smitten, but he thought that it was because it was easy to be around him.

Smitten chuckled in amusement, moving to be inches away from Opportunist's lips. "What a cute little devil you are," he whispered, before crashing his lips against his.

Opportunist gasped at the intensity of Smitten as they kissed, his mind spinning with nothing but pleasure and a need to keep chasing it-and when Smitten invaded his mouth with his tongue, Opportunist moaned.

It was only made worse when Smitten kept sprinkling in sweet words in-between the kissing. Words such as-'So pretty', 'Gorgeous', and 'Good Oppy.' It erased any mask and performance from Opportunist's mind and left him falling apart, letting a sliver of truth come out-that Opportunist longed to feel like this, to feel wanted and adored for who he was.

They broke apart, panting while still pressing their bodies impossibly closer to each other. Smitten's eyes flicked off to the side for a split second, before he moved his hands up to intertwine them with Opportunist's, and his smile looked dashing and wicked at the same time as he said,"It looks like your wings need to be preened after all."

Opportunist gulped.

[acescorazon]

Changes

Title: The art of...flirting?

Chapter: 23

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, Dialogue Heavy.

Word Count: 6541

Chapter Excerpt:

“You try too damn hard,” Buggy mutters under his breath. He’s not actually complaining or anything, though. If anything, he’s just stating the truth. He doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone try this hard to get on his good side before. Hell, even his own men don’t try this hard to win him over.

“Am I bothering you or making you feel uncomfortable?” Mihawk asks, “If so, I apologize. I just haven’t had feelings for someone in a long, long time.” He admits, “I’m nervous and I just…” he chuckles quietly. He's nervous? No, that can't be true. Mihawk doesn’t get nervous. “I just really want you to return my feelings, but I’m worried that our disastrous past will prevent you from ever liking me back,” He squeezes Buggy’s hand softly, “I’m completely lost here, Buggy. I don’t know how to redeem myself and make myself more likable. If i’m bothering you in anyway, though, just tell me and i’ll back off. I swear.”

…

…

It takes Buggy a moment to respond, but he eventually squeezes Mihawk’s hand back, ��...You’re not bothering me.” he whispers quietly. Part of him hopes Mihawk won’t hear him, but the moment he sees Mihawk smile softly and look down at their hands, he knows he got his hopes up for nothing. God, what am I doing? He finds himself wondering yet again. 

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Buggy passes the hell out not long after he returns to his room. When he wakes up, it's almost dinner time, and he's surprised that he’s slept all day. He sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes, before he glances over at the clock at his bedside. It’s 5:45 PM, and Buggy can’t help but wonder why his crew or even Mihawk and Crocodile let him sleep for so long. When was the last time he got the chance to sleep the day away like this? It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And in theory, he should feel refreshed after what? 10 or 11 hours of sleep? Instead, there's a dull ache in his skull, and he has the urge to lie back down. He doesn't allow himself to rest any longer, though, he has a ship to run.

As Buggy dresses himself, thoughts of Mihawk briefly enter his mind. Why can’t he get that man out of his damn head? He’s always thinking about Mihawk for one reason or another and he hates himself for it. Before Mihawk and Crocodile came into his life, most of Buggy’s thoughts were related to the mundane aspects of his daily life – He often wondered how he would run his island, how he would get more recruits and make more money, or how he would make the most of his power as a warlord. Of course, Buggy’s past would also come back to haunt his thoughts more often than not and he would think about his old crew a lot and his good for nothing best friend, but he doesn’t think there was ever a time when he couldn’t pull himself out of his own thoughts. That all changed after the formation of Cross Guild, though. 

Buggy thinks back to earlier in the morning when he and Mihawk held each other so… tenderly. He hates to admit it, but that’s exactly what they did. They didn’t have a simple, fleeting hug, they held each other in a tight embrace that meant a lot more than either of them let on. It was too warm, too secure, and way too intimate for them, or it should have been. Buggy should have hated that hug, he should have been repulsed by the mere idea of hugging someone who has caused him so much pain and suffering, he shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place, really, but… 

Something major has changed whether Buggy admits it or not.  

Buggy can still remember how Mihawk's body felt pressed against his. In fact, it’s almost like his stupid brain has the shape and feel of Mihawk’s body memorized after that one dumb hug. Mihawk is almost all muscle. His shoulders and back in particular are firm and broad, but Buggy would be a liar if he said he wasn’t secretly a sucker for broad shoulders. That god awful, red-headed best friend of his has some of the broadest shoulders that Buggy’s ever seen on a man, and he would also be lying if he said that there wasn't a point in his life when he was obsessed with Shanks' body and more meaty, well built body types in general. 

Mihawk is slightly smaller than Shanks, and he’s not as meaty, but he’s… Nevermind it doesn’t matter. Buggy shouldn’t be thinking about Shanks and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Mihawk, not like that, at least. He will admit, though, that Mihawk’s chest is comfortable. It’s kind of like a brand new pillow - firm yet still comfortable enough to lie his head on. His grip is also insanely tight and secure, too. 

Buggy truly thinks he’s gone too long without being touched because he practically melted in Mihawk’s arms the moment he grabbed his waist. Good lord that hug was snug, but it felt so good. Buggy…Buggy has this thing… He thinks it’s because he’s spent his life living dangerously, but he’s not sure. Anyways, a good, secure hug always does numbers on him. Maybe he just wants to feel safe and protected for once. Being the captain or even the leader of Cross Guild means he’s supposed to be the strong one who protects everyone and gives them the support and encouragement they need, but sometimes he just wants to be the one who's being taken care of. He wants to be the one who feels loved and protected.

But Buggy doesn’t want to think about all that. He doesn't want to think about how long their embrace lasted, or how he felt during it, or even how he let Mihawk pull him in for a second deep embrace. If he thinks too much about it, he might go nuts.

The fact that Mihawk and Buggy were able to hug so tenderly without anything feeling awkward or forced is surreal. It shouldn’t have happened, not in this lifetime at least. Buggy supposedly hates Mihawk, and Mihawk isn’t the affectionate type, so why were they hugging like that? Why did it seem like Mihawk’s been waiting for the day that Buggy would let him hug him? He grabbed him as soon as he was close enough, like he’s been dying to finally get his hands on him and then he hugged him and didn’t want to let go. God, Buggy needs to move on, it was just a hug. 

It was just a stupid, unnecessarily long hug, that’s all. He’s putting way too much thought into this. 

Why am I still thinking about it? Buggy wonders as he puts a shirt over his head. Just get over it already... He tells himself, despite knowing that he's never been the type to 'just get over' things. He has to get over this, though, he can't allow thoughts like these to constantly enter his mind. He can’t allow himself to constantly think about Mihawk, it’s…weird. 

With a sigh, Buggy finally leaves his room and heads out to check on his men and their ship. Much to his surprise, everything seems to be peaceful. It's almost as if the attack from the sea king last night never happened. The blood and tentacles are no longer on the front deck, and if there were any minor damages from the attack, his men made sure to fix them before Buggy woke up. That lingering sense of dread is long gone too, and Buggy's men happily make their way around the ship, either tending to their duties or chatting to each other happily. Buggy almost wonders if he dreamt the entire sea king attack until one of his men informs him that the ship has already made a slight change in its route and that they're now heading to a nearby island, just like Crocodile and Mihawk said they would.

At some point, after he's checked on his men and been brought up to date, Buggy spots his fellow leading members of Cross Guild. They seem to be in the middle of a casual conversation, one without any bickering or snide remarks. So even these two know how to enjoy a peaceful evening, huh? As Buggy has that thought, the ever perceptive Mihawk seems to notice he's watching them and glances over in his direction before silently beckoning him over to him and Crocodile.

Buggy hesitates for a moment before he makes his way over to the other two men. The art of having a casual conversation with Mihawk and Crocodile is still something he struggles with, but they seem to have the same issue. They greet each other and then there's a long, dreadful pause before Mihawk speaks up, "I take it that you're well rested now?" He asks. More or less, Buggy thinks as he gives Mihawk a quick nod in response. "Good. And I suspect that your men have already informed you that we will be going through with our plans and will be stopping at a nearby island." Buggy nods again.

"I still don't think we need to make any stops. The ship's fine, and so is the crew..." Crocodile mutters under his breath, "It's a pointless excursion if you ask me."

"Good thing nobody asked you." Mihawk replies. He seems to ignore the nasty look Crocodile gives him and continues telling Buggy about their plans: "We'll head to the nearest island and stay a couple of days. It'll be good for the mens' psyche after such a major attack took place. There we can restock, even though I doubt we'll need to do that, and we can also assess the ship for further damage." Mihawk makes a lot of sense and Buggy agrees with him completely, but Crocodile… Well, Crocodile never agrees with anyone but himself: 

"For fuck’s sake, the attack from the sea king wasn't that bad. You're just being dramatic, Hawkeye."

"No, I'm being the logical one, as always."

There they go again, Buggy thinks as he stands there, listening to Mihawk and Crocodile start to bicker again. The peaceful atmosphere on the ship was nice while it lasted, even though Buggy only got to experience it for about ten minutes at most. He looks out at the vast and open sea, taking in the breathtaking view of the sun setting over the horizon. Watching the sunset was always one of his favorite things to do as a child on the Oro Jackson. He doesn't do it much as an adult, but whenever he does, a sense of nostalgia always washes over him. Sometimes said nostalgia makes him sad, sometimes it comforts him like a warm embrace, today the latter seems to be the case, though. He allows himself to enjoy the scenery and stares up at the overcast skies that are painted in various shades of red and orange, but only for a moment, before he turns his attention back to Mihawk and Crocodile.

"Personally…I don't mind stopping at a nearby island," Buggy says slowly, with the goal of remaining a neutral party to avoid any arguments (mainly with Crocodile.) "It'll give us a chance to reevaluate our plans for this trip and finalize them. We can sit down and factor in things we might not have thought of before... like another sea king attack or unstable weather conditions, that way we're better prepared and won't have to stop again." He adds, hoping to pacify Crocodile so he'll finally shut up about their detour. "It won't be a pointless excursion, it'll be...a regrouping session."

"Whatever," Crocodile huffs, "This little detour better not set us back, or I'll be pissed."

"It won't." Mihawk assures him, "But if we do happen to face any setbacks, I'll take full responsibility for them."

“Yeah, you fuckin' better."

Buggy fights off the urge to roll his eyes at Crocodile's snarky reply. Well, at least one of their problems has finally been solved. They manage to put their little argument to rest right before they're told dinner is ready, and Buggy couldn’t be more grateful. As soon as he hears what's on the menu -- Some steak (and roasted vegetables that he couldn't care less about) -- he suddenly remembers that he hasn't eaten all day and takes off. Buggy has been dreaming about eating steak for weeks, and it looks like they’re finally having something other than seafood for once. He’s guessing it’s because they went through such a stressful night last night and this is supposed to be a treat, but even if that’s not the case, Buggy won’t complain.

Buggy ditches Mihawk and Crocodile the moment he hears the food is ready. He's the captain of the ship, and if anyone's guaranteed a plate of food, it's him, but there's always been a voice in the back of his head that tells him that if he isn't one of the first people in line to get food, then he just won't eat. Maybe that's just part of his trauma from being at sea his entire life talking again, though. In any case, Buggy gets his steak (and his vegetables) and has a seat in the dining room, where a few of his men are already sitting and enjoying their own meals.

He makes some casual chit-chat with his crew and listens to various members ramble about their day and tell some stories before he shares a few short stories of his own with them. Dinner time was always a big deal on the Oro Jackson, so naturally it’s the same when it comes to any ship Buggy’s the captain of. He loves feeling like a real family and having dinner with his children, if that wasn’t obvious already. Is it partially because it gives him the chance to brag and to tell a bunch of (fake) stories about himself and his past?! Maybe, but it’s really nobody’s business. 

“Say, did I ever tell you kids about the time I took on all seven of the orginal seven war lords?!” Buggy asks the small group of pirates surrounding him. “It was an intense seven versus one battle, and I didn’t even have Cabaji or Mohji to back me up!” 

The men surrounding him all give him a look of disbelief, as they rightfully should. There’s a brief pause in their chatter before things quickly become lively again. “No, you never told us that story, Captain!” One of the men replies. 

“Tell us about it, Captain!” Exclaims another. 

“Woah, you fought them without any backup at all? Chairmen, you’re too cool!” Praises a third member of the crew. 

Buggy grins at their responses, “You kids know me. Your captain Buggy is nothing but an honest man, So I won’t lie and say the battle was over quickly. In reality, it was a little difficult, even for someone of my caliber.” he pretends to think about this supposed battle he had with the seven original warlords. “Hm, out of all of them, I think Doflamingo was the toughest. No, it was Kuma. No, no it was…”

Just as Buggy’s about to finish his sentence, the door to the dining room swings open. First Crocodile comes in and then Mihawk follows closely behind him. The sight of them causes Buggy’s words to dry up in his mouth. “On second thought, I’ll tell you guys the rest of the story later. It really is a long one and I don’t think I could tell you it over dinner.”

Naturally his children look disappointed and begin to complain: “Aw, but we want to hear the story!” 

“Yeah, tell us about your fight against the seven warlords anyways, Captain! We’ll sit here all night if we have to!”

Buggy chuckles nervously, mainly because Crocodile’s staring him down now, “No, I'd rather tell you about the time I… I had a friendly dispute with Red-Haired Shanks and fought him for twelve days and twelve nights!”

One of the crew members gasps, “Twelve days and twelve nights?!” That’s what he said, isn’t it? Of course, it’s all bullshit regardless of what story he tells, though. Buggy does have some real harrowing tales of his own that he could tell, but he doesn’t like the emotions associated with some of said tales. He doesn’t like to admit that his past is filled with tragedy, defeat, and endless hardships. In fact, everything that’s ever happened to Buggy in his life was either dumb luck or bad luck, and there’s been no in between.

As Buggy tells this new fictional story, he somehow winds up sitting in the middle of Mihawk and Crocodile. He doesn’t understand why they have to sit right beside him when there are plenty of other free seats at the dining table. He tries not to think about it, though. After all, they are shipmates... or something like that, and Mihawk and Crocodile are the closest with Buggy, so their choice of seats makes sense in a way. The other two don't really socialize like the rest of the crew do, they only offer curt replies and grunts in response to most things said to them or asked. Nobody seems to really mind it, though, and the atmosphere somehow continues to be light-hearted and fun despite their presence.  

Buggy's not like Crocodile and Mihawk (obviously), he rambles endlessly to his crew as he eats because they never get tired of listening to him. Even if he sometimes retells the same story or gets caught telling a small white lie, his crew never bothers to correct him, so he never shuts up. “And that’s when Red-Haired Shanks threw his sword down on the ground and finally surrendered!” Buggy tells his men. They seem amazed, but Mihawk obviously doesn’t feel the same way. He snorts and mutters something under his breath, but thankfully Buggy can’t hear him, so it doesn’t matter anyways.

Funnily enough, Buggy doesn’t seem to mind that Crocodile and Mihawk are around. In fact, he forgets they’re even in the same room as him from time to time until one of them scoffs quietly after he says something unbelievable. Every now and again, though, he does catch one of them looking at him. Mihawk in particular, often stares at him with a blank expression on his face, whilst Crocodile looks just plain agitated with him whenever he looks at him. Buggy would assume that they’re angry or annoyed with him, but they never say anything. They don’t tell him to shut up, or really react, they just give him the same unreadable reactions over and over again. Surely if they were actually bothered by anything he’s saying or doing, they’d say something. So, after a while, Buggy realizes they’re not angry, just mean looking. (Well, he knew that before, but still.)

Much to Buggy’s dismay, his steak is gone within no time. He didn't even get to savor it really, he just inhaled his food without thinking, and now he’s poking at some potatoes that look rather unappetizing, well, less appetizing than a steak does. He glances over to his side and takes note of how Mihawk has barely touched his own entrée. Perhaps Buggy should have saved the best for last, like Mihawk did, but he was dying to sink his teeth into something that wasn’t fish, sea king, or crab for once. All of a sudden, Mihawk looks over at him again and locks eyes with him, "Here." He simply says before he cuts his steak and gives Buggy half of it without waiting for him to give a proper response.

“You don’t have t-...” Buggy tries to stop Mihawk from sharing his steak with him, but it’s too late. Less than a second later, it’s sitting in the middle of Buggy’s plate, and he stares at it. “Thank you.” He mutters, feeling slightly defeated yet grateful. So, the world’s strongest swordsman is good at sharing, who would have known?

“Mhm,” Mihawk replies in a quiet voice, “There’s no need to thank me…”

A sharp click of the tongue comes from Buggy’s right all of a sudden. “You starving or something?” Crocodile asks, glancing over at Buggy as well. 

“What? N–” Buggy tries to reply again, but before he can, there’s already a second piece of steak on his plate courtesy of Crocodile. Why are they like this…? “... Thank you.” he says yet again, and he receives a grunt from Crocodile in response:

“Tasted cheap anyways.” 

Of course, he would say something like that. Buggy thinks as he heaves a small sigh and continues his meal. This time he eats a little slower, and actually enjoys the juicy steak and all its rich flavors. It most definitely does not taste cheap in Buggy’s opinion, but what does he know? He’s not loaded like Crocodile is.

Dinner is fantastic and for dessert they have some chocolate cake. It’s nothing special, but when you’ve been eating the same crap for a while, anything slightly different from the norm tastes like heaven. Buggy was starting to feel full by the time dessert rolled around, but how could he ever pass up a piece of cake, especially when he doesn’t really get the chance to eat sweet things? 

Buggy groans softly when that first bite of chocolate cake enters his mouth. It tastes so rich and chocolatey, and– Mihawk glances over at Buggy, and watches him eat for a moment before he proceeds to slide his entire plate of cake over to him. “Eat it. I don’t like sweets.” He tells Buggy. Then why’d you take it in the first place? Buggy thinks, confused as hell. Why the hell would Buggy want his cake? He has his own, and Mihawk literally just saw him eat a huge meal. 

Buggy’s just about to tell Mihawk that he doesn’t want his food when Crocodile clicks his tongue, “Take mine too. Chocolate gives me heartburn, and I don’t like that shit.” Are they serious right now? What’s Buggy going to do with three pieces of fucking cake?! 

Buggy sighs, “Look, guys, I–...”

“Eat it.” Mihawk and Crocodile order at the same time, and Buggy… Well, Buggy listens to them obediently, just like he usually does. His original slice of cake is delicious and goes down smoothly, but halfway through the second slice of cake, he starts to wonder if he’s involved in some sort of cruel and unusual punishment. In the end, he doesn’t finish all of the cake given to him but Mihawk and Crocodile don’t seem to mind, and it makes Buggy wonder what this was all for.

… 

After dinner, the crew gathers around on the front deck and tries to figure out who will watch over the ship while everyone else sleeps tonight. Since Buggy is the most rested member of the crew, he volunteers for night patrol. He expects a few of his men to volunteer to join him or even take his place, but Mihawk beats them to the punch: “I’ll join you.” He simply states, “I don’t sleep well during the night anyways.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Buggy mutters quietly. Why is it that every time Buggy volunteers for something, Mihawk immediately follows suit? “It shouldn’t be too much trouble to keep guard on my own.” He gives a generic excuse, but truth be told, he’s not sure if he’s ready to be all alone with Mihawk again, especially for an entire night. He can’t tell him that, though. 

Mihawk puts up his hand, “It’s fine, I don’t mind helping out. Besides, there’s no such thing as being too cautious, especially after last night. It’s better to have an extra set of eyes around just in case something goes amiss like last night.” His argument makes sense, but Buggy can’t help but think Mihawk’s not being completely honest. Does he really want to just help Buggy look after the ship, or does he just want to be alone with him for around 8 or 9 hours? Actually, he doesn’t think he wants the answer to that. 

Buggy’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he hears Crocodile snort loudly, “You know, I was going to volunteer to keep watch with you, but Hawkeye beat me to the punch,” he complains with a scoff.

Mihawk heaves a sigh, “If you want to join us, I won’t stop you.”

“Oh, please. We both know you want him all to yourself.”

Buggy blinks once, twice, thrice. There was a lot to unpack from that small conversation alone, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to figure out the meanings behind their words. Nope. Instead he turns around and leaves while Crocodile and Mihawk start bickering with each other.  He starts saying goodnight to the rest of the crew, turns off any lights that the others accidentally left on, and makes sure they’re still on the right course before settling down for the night. 

Earlier in the day, one of his men had informed him that the island they’re heading to is about two days away. Mihawk picked their destination, and It’s supposed to be an island with a tropical climate that’s west of where they are right now. Buggy forgets the name of it, though, but thinks it’s something related to plants or nature. They’ll go there and then rest for a couple of days before following their original plans and going to Prickly Pear. Maybe Buggy will finally get the chance to relax and clear his mind during their little detour. God knows he would love to get Mihawk off his mind finally. 

Buggy’s sitting on a large wooden crate not too far from the ship’s helm when he suddenly hears soft footsteps approaching him. Speak of the devil, he thinks as Mihawk comes into view. He’s all alone, though, and Buggy can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What happened with Crocodile?” He asks when his curiosity gets the best of him. 

“I ended up asking him to go to bed,” Mihawk casually replies as he has a seat on a crate that’s next to the one Buggy’s on. That reply makes Buggy even more curious. He knows he shouldn’t ask for Mihawk to elaborate but he ends up doing it anyways. 

“Why’d you do that?” Buggy asks - like he doesn’t already know. 

Mihawk is silent for a moment before he shrugs, “I didn’t feel like arguing with him all night.” He replies, which isn’t quite the response Buggy was expecting to hear. “Plus, he was right, I did want you all to myself.” 

Buggy almost chokes on his spit after the second part of Mihawk’s reply. “I didn’t think that the world’s strongest swordsman would be such a shameless flirt.” he mutters, looking away. Words can’t describe how irritating he finds it every time Mihawk’s words catch him off guard and make him feel all flustered. 

“A shameless flirt?” Mihawk repeats, sounding slightly amused. “I wouldn’t say I’m a shameless flirt by any means. I just don’t hold back when it comes to my feelings for you.” He can say that again. “Should I try and tone things down, though?”

“Oh, why are you even asking me something as stupid as that?” Buggy grumbles under his breath, “I don’t care what you do, okay? You could flirt with me until the end of time, and it wouldn’t make any difference!” 

“What a shame.” Mihawk sighs, “And here I thought maybe I was finally making some progress with you.” Ha, yeah, right! Buggy still feels the same way he felt about Mihawk as before. That hug earlier was a fluke and nothing more… Mihawk leans back, stretching his long legs out and getting more comfortable on the crate he’s sitting on, “Well, in any case, I’m just glad that we’re on speaking terms. I won’t ask for too much.” 

Buggy doesn’t have a reply for that. He doesn’t have a reply for, like, half of the things Mihawk says, actually. He’s come to realize that Mihawk’s ridiculously sweet and selfless at times, and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. He’s used to the aloof Mihawk that doesn’t try to talk to him and often insults him, not the sweet, regretful Mihawk who finds little excuses to be around him and converses with him at every opportunity. 

“Dinner was nice tonight.” Mihawk suddenly says, pulling Buggy out of his thoughts. It was nice, minus the part where Mihawk and Crocodile kept insisting he take their food. Ugh, Buggy still feels a little bloated and it’s been a whole two hours since dinner. “But what was that story you were about to tell the crew? The one about you facing the seven warlords all by yourself?” 

Buggy’s eyes widen to a comical degree. “What? What are you talking about? Me? Fighting the seven warlords on my own?! That didn't happen.” he says quickly, waving his hand dismissively. “I was one of you guys, remember? Why would I fight the other warlords?” 

“No, you definitely told the rest of the crew that you fought the other warlords on your own,” Mihawk insists, “I don’t remember this happening, though. Perhaps you knocked me senseless during battle?” 

Buggy covers his face with one of his hands. God, why did they have to walk into the dining room at that exact moment? He goes quiet for a long moment, unsure how to explain himself. “Did you beat me too?” Mihawk asks, and his soft voice takes on a playful edge to it. Well, at least he isn’t mad about Buggy’s story time.

“Yeah, yeah. I beat you.” Buggy mutters, still feeling painfully embarrassed by his own white lie. 

“Oh, Congratulations,” Mihawk tells Buggy, sounding a little impressed. “And here I thought I’ve gone undefeated in battle for over two decades now, If only I knew the truth.”

Buggy whines softly, “Please, don’t be mad. I just say shit sometimes, okay?” He says, trying to explain himself a little. He… He’s a chronic liar, a show-off, and a big mouth!  

“Oh, I know.” 

Oh, thank G– Wait, what does he mean ‘I know’? Buggy side eyes Mihawk for that little comment, but he doesn’t try to start an argument with him or anything (not that he would win anyways.) “If I really wanted to, I could probably defeat all of you, though.” 

Mihawk stares at Buggy wordlessly, “...” he turns his head away a moment later, and Buggy feels his eye twitching. What was that look supposed to mean?! Huh, is he saying Buggy couldn’t beat him? (he couldn’t). Is he saying Buggy is weak? Buggy is so tired of people looking down on him, an— 

“I’’m glad you’re finally acting normal again.” Mihawk suddenly says, and the words catch Buggy completely off guard. “You were awfully pitiful for a while there.” Yeah? Well, whose fault was that?! “I don’t like seeing you look down, but… I don’t know how to comfort people.” 

They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment before Buggy replies in a soft voice, “I wasn’t feeling down. But, if I were, why would I want you to comfort me?” he asks, scoffing.

Mihawk shrugs, “You have a point. I haven’t been good to you in the past. You probably still see me in a negative light, right?” He exhales a quiet breath, “In the future, though…If you’re sad and need someone to comfort you, I hope you’ll come to me first.” he reaches over, and before Buggy can even process what’s happening or being said to him, Mihawk puts his hand on top of his. “I’m not good at comforting people, but I’ll try my best to ease your worries.”

Buggy shuts down completely. He can’t speak, he can’t think, all he can do is stare at Mihawk. He spends an unreasonable amount of time searching those golden eyes of Mihawk’s for any signs of deception. Mihawk’s face and expression looks so soft underneath the warm glow of the ship's lights, though, and he looks like he's being honest. Does he really mean it…? Buggy wonders one last time before he finally accepts Mihawk's words as the truth.

God, he means it. 

Buggy swallows down a thick wad of spit, “Ha! Nothing can bring me down,” He says at long last, lying through his teeth yet again, “But… I’ll keep what you said in mind,” He adds quietly before he looks up at the dark, starless sky. He searches for something to keep his mind off of Mihawk as well as the weight of his hand on top of his. There are no stars, no moon, hell, there’s not even a single cloud in the sky to look at.

With nothing else to focus on, Buggy’s thoughts bounce around chaotically. He suddenly realizes that Mihawk’s moved a little closer and that he smells incredible. Whatever cologne Mihawk is wearing smells warm and earthy, and kind of expensive too. Has he always smelled this good? Buggy shakes the question out of his head, and his attention soon turns to the fact that his heart is thrumming in his chest. He doesn’t want to think about how his body is reacting to Mihawk right now, though, so he forces himself to try to listen to Mihawk as he begins chatting to him again, but then he realizes that Mihawk’s talking to him more and more these days. Not only is he talking to Buggy more and more these days, but his voice is always so soft when he speaks to him, and the words he says are often thoughtful and earnest. 

Several words are exchanged, and conversations flow easier than ever before between the two. It’s then that Buggy realizes just how much effort Mihawk is putting into trying to talk to him, so… so he returns that energy. The two discuss their future plans some more, talk about Buggy’s men, and even exchange some stories with each other. Normally, Buggy would tell a story that makes him look good, that story could be real or fake, but it would most definitely make him seem like a great and mighty pirate. He decides to just tell small little tales from his time on the Oro Jackson instead, stuff that he’s always found funny. He doesn’t expect Mihawk to find his stories humorous or even interesting, but on more than one occasion, Buggy catches Mihawk leaning in closer, listening to him intently and even chuckling at some of the things Buggy says.

As they speak, Buggy also notes how every once in a while Mihawk will look down at his painted lips for about three or four seconds before he quickly looks back up at Buggy’s eyes. Buggy tries to ignore it, but it’s hard when Mihawk stares so shamelessly at him. Whenever he notices him doing it, he always short circuits, unsure what to do. In fact the next time it happens, he loses his whole train of thought. 

He’s in the middle of telling Mihawk another story when Mihawk’s gaze suddenly drops down to his lips again. It’s like the third time he's done that, but who’s counting? Once again, Buggy’s mind goes blank, and he can’t help but look down at Mihawk’s mouth in return. It was for, like, less than a second, though! He quickly looks away, horrified at his own reaction. 

God, what is wrong with Buggy?

There's another tense moment of silence before Mihawk finally speaks up again, “I have a random question to ask you,” Mihawk announces softly as he reaches out slowly and brushes a couple of pieces of silky blue hair out of Buggy’s face. “Do you have feelings for anyone right now? It doesn’t have to be for me, it can be for anyone.” God, it must be getting late in the night. The type of late where anyone talking to you wants to have deep and meaningful conversations. 

Buggy scoffs, “Hell no.” He replies, not wanting to think about the question or take too long to answer it, either. “I haven’t had feelings for anyone in over a decade.” He admits - that’s the truth. 

“Was it Shanks?” Mihawk asks, “I mean… Was he the last person who you had feelings for?” Oh, good grief, is it that obvious? Does Buggy seem like a bitter ex lover or something or is Mihawk just really perceptive?

Buggy groans, what a mood killer, he thinks as he looks away. “Yes, it was Shanks, but who gives a shit?” he retorts. 

“Was he your first love?”

“Oh, who cares?!”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.” 

Buggy feels a headache coming on, “Yes. He was my first love.  He was my first…everything, okay?” He replies with a groan, “But I’m telling you, none of that matters. We’re not together or anything, and we haven’t been together for a while now.” 

Mihawk is silent for a moment before he asks Buggy yet another annoying question, “Do you still love him?” He loves Shanks as much as he loves a hangnail. There couldn’t be a more annoying man on the surface of this planet than Red-Haired Shanks. “You can be honest, Buggy. I won't get upset or anything.” 

God, does he really think Buggy has feelings for Shanks? Is this what this is all about? Oh, that’s stupid. “Look,” Buggy replies, clasping his hands together, “I will always love him, he’s my best friend, okay?” 

“But are you currently in love with him, Buggy?” 

No, you idiot. Buggy pauses. For some reason, he wants to put Mihawk's mind at ease even though he knows he doesn’t have to. It’s not like he and Mihawk are together or anything, but still… Buggy sighs and continues, “I’m in love with a couple of memories from twenty years ago, but nothing more.” He admits, “I’m old enough to finally understand that we just want different things in life, and that’s okay. I’m over him, okay? He’s a fucking idiot.”

Mihawk nods in response, “So I’m guessing you’re into men who are more like Shanks then?” 

Buggy snorts, “Oh, god. No.” He groans, “I couldn’t be with someone like him again. He pissed me off too much. I would rather be in a more stable relationship with someone who is kind, loyal, and reliable, you know?”

“Mhm,” Mihawk hums, “That sounds like me.” You must be sleep deprived, Buggy thinks. Reliable, maybe, but Mihawk being kind and loyal? Buggy’s not too sure about that, even if Mihawk has been on his best behavior as of lately. “I’m reliable, loyal to a fault, and… I know I haven’t been the kindest in the past, but…give me a chance to prove myself, will you? I can be warm and gentle.” He threads their fingers together, holding Buggy’s hand for real this time. Buggy doesn’t pull away from his touch either, even when his stomach practically does flips, he still doesn’t pull his hand away from Mihawk’s. 

“You try too damn hard,” Buggy mutters under his breath. He’s not actually complaining or anything, though. If anything, he’s just stating the truth. He doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone try this hard to get on his good side before. Hell, even his own men don’t try this hard to win him over.

“Am I bothering you or making you feel uncomfortable?” Mihawk asks, “If so, I apologize. I just haven’t had feelings for someone in a long, long time.” He admits, “I’m nervous and I just…” he chuckles quietly. He's nervous? No, that can't be true. Mihawk doesn’t get nervous. “I just really want you to return my feelings, but I’m worried that our disastrous past will prevent you from ever liking me back,” He squeezes Buggy’s hand softly, “I’m completely lost here, Buggy. I don’t know how to redeem myself and make myself more likable. If i’m bothering you in anyway, though, just tell me and i’ll back off. I swear.”

…

…

It takes Buggy a moment to respond, but he eventually squeezes Mihawk’s hand back, “...You’re not bothering me.” he whispers quietly. Part of him hopes Mihawk won’t hear him, but the moment he sees Mihawk smile softly and look down at their hands, he knows he got his hopes up for nothing. God, what am I doing? He finds himself wondering yet again. 

[nmakii]

TILL I RUN DRY!

— alastor x hypersexual ace!reader

— warning: gn!reader (i wrote with fem in mind) sex, hyper-sexuality, intrusive thoughts, abuse, sexualization, body dysmorphia, implied ed (anorexia), self-harm

unapologetically me x alastor bc were married! and um we like to hold hands sooo like deal w it 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ kinda messy hc list too. sfter writing the tw list im worried for myself sheeshhh

he honestly at first did not quite like you. his only experience with hypersexuality has been with angel dust. and, that has been uncomfortable to say the least.

though he starts seeing that behind that mask, you’re hiding something. as a man who hides his intentions most of the time, he can tell you’re covering some part of yourself up. and when you finally let down that mask of yours, whether by accident or on purpose, alastor finds it confusing.

alastor’s original understanding of hypersexuality had been that they were nymphomaniacs who always desired sex. he was confused with your identity, “hypersexual asexual”. it was an oxymoron!

but, now that he’s developed a bond with you, he’s starting understand that there was… some difference between drive and attraction. the line is still a bit faint to him.

now that alastor has gotten to know you better, he starts to see that both of you are fairly similar, at least when it comes to the lack of sexual attraction. and now that he knows you act this way for a reason, he doesn’t shame you like he does with angel dust. (not that angel isn’t valid, alastor just doesn’t wish to talk to him) and after learning that these sexual remarks of your’s are compulsive, he tries to tolerate them to the best of his abilities.

whenever you have these hypersexual episodes and start to cope, alastor doesn’t prefer to ‘help’ you. he’ll leave you to your own devices until it’s over. but, he’s perfectly fine cleaning you up. whether it be setting up a bath, or bandaging a scar. he doesn’t intend on stopping you since… he doesn’t exactly know how to. all that he does know is how to comfort you after they happen.

he’d feel sympathetic if you started feeling disgusted with yourself after an episode. he generally also feels sympathetic for you if the trauma that had wired your mind like this had been inflicted by older men, or someone you thought was your friend.

sometimes, when it’s late into the day, alastor’ll catch you bedrotting because you feel disgusted with yourself. he doesn’t say anything though, because if he did, it’d be a lie. if you noticed it and got upset, alastor would probably say something along the lines of “yes, i won’t deny that you’re a bit… twisted in the head, dear. but, i’ll still be here for you. you’re quite dear to me, i wouldn’t just leave you!”

he’s often confused when you wear revealing clothing and try to sexualize yourself whilst not even wanting to have sex. and, when you say that you’re trying to prove to yourself that you’re pretty enough to sexualize, he’s speechless to say the least. he’s never met someone like you before, nor does he tend to even try to help.

there are times alastor finds you staring in the mirror and observing your body. he can tell in your eyes that you’re judging your figure on how appealing it is, and that you’re thinking of how to make yourself look ‘better’. and to distract your thoughts, he hugs you from behind, and puts all the attention on him. he’d say something like “what ever are you doing, sweetheart? i can’t deny how gorgeous you are, but you’ll go crosseyed if you keep staring like that!”

and knowing you, judging your figure would probably lead to something like starving yourself. so, he observes how much you eat, and tries to encourage you to eat more.

alastor would still get incredibly uncomfortable if you started forcing yourself onto him and trying to seduce him. he doesn’t want to do that, but he wouldn’t want to hurt your fragile state either. when he denies you, he can see that you get upset. so, he explains that he wouldn’t want to take advantage of you like other unruly men have before, and that it doesn’t have anything to do with how attractive you are.

he’d also get a bit irritated during these dramatic moments of yours where you push everyone away. you start to get much more depressed during these moments, and he can’t help wondering about your well-being. it doesn’t matter if you’re pushing him away, he’s still lurking somewhere in the shadows to make sure you’re safe.

if you ever got close enough to alastor to confess the darker parts of your hypersexuality, like a need to be abused to feel loved, he’d feel sick to his stomach. why on earth would you want such a thing? to feel as if you’re attractive? he’d let you confess these thoughts to him, you’re trusting him with a dark part of yourself after all. but, if you were to seek it out in real life, he’d absolutely stop you. he’d never realistically allow you to get hurt while he’s still with you.

he finds it you to be a very unfortunate individual. he still tries to be there for you when he can, even if it made him mildly uncomfortable.

[natsgrave]

YOU'RE LOSING ME | wanda maximoff

how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? do i throw out everything we built or keep it? and you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

Y/N's POV

What are you really willing to do for love? For someone so important to you?

Well, for me, I'll do everything and anything for that person. Even though it hurts. So much.

I rolled to my side and smile instantly crept into my face. There she is, my girlfriend looking so peaceful. I admire her sleeping state and curved her figures inside my mind.

"You know, it's rude to stare." She suddenly spoke making me laugh.

"What? Can't I admire my gorgeous girl?" I teasingly asked.

She slowly opened her eyes revealing my favorite green eyes, "Good morning, Y/N." she whispered with a smile.

"Good morning, witchy." I softly said with a little laugh that I tried to hide causing her to throw a pillow at me.

I love morning like this. Just us not caring about the world.

Just like the clock works before we know it, we already have to leave the bed to face reality.

"It's nice to finally see you awake, love birds." Tony said as he took a sipped of his coffee.

"We're not love birds, Stark." Wanda replied with the roll of her eyes.

Ah, yes, we're secret because she said and I quote she's not yet ready to come out. I'd be lying if I said it doesn't hurt me one bit because it does. All I want is to love her, out in the open and not like this.

I felt a hand touches my shoulder causing me to go back to reality, I look infront of me and met Wanda's soft gazes, "Are you okay? I've called you so many times."

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry, I'm good." I breathed out and walked away not giving her any second glance.

I walked towards the kitchen and make myself coffee when Natasha spoke.

"Still keeping it a secret?" I didn't even notice she's here. And yes, she's the only one who knows about our relationship. We didn't tell her for the record, she just walked in on us… making out.

Anyway, I look up at her and gave her a defeated smile, "Isn't it obvious?"

"How long are you going to ignore that pain inside your chest?" she asked and I didn't answer because honestly… I don't know either.

"Y/N, when are you going to choose yourself? When are you going to see what your worth really is?" She continues holding my shoulder forcing me to face her.

"I love her." I whispered.

"And I know that, I can see that. Hell, you wouldn't even ignore and bare all this pain if you don't." Nat said and lift my chin, "You're like a sister to me and I don't say this often but I do love you, Y/N. I care for you and it's really hard seeing my little sister getting hurt whether she does it unintentionally." She softly added.

"Nat, I-" The words I was about to say instantly cut off when I heard Wanda's laugh ringing loud. I look behind us and see her laughing with Vision. The fucking red walking toaster.

"Are you sure the reason why she's keeping you both a secret is because she is not yet ready or…?" She asked trailing her last word knowing that I'll know it instantly.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." I reassured her but deep down, it was for me.

Days turns into weeks which also turn into months. Months and nothing changed, not even a single thing. Every time I try opening the subject to Wanda, she always find a way to divert it into different subject but today, I wouldn't let it happen. Not anymore.

"Wanda, we need to talk." I sternly said as I enter her room.

"Hi to you too, baby." she replied still sitting on her bed.

"We can't go on like this." I directly said starting the topic.

"Y/N, can we–"

"No, we can't. We're going to talk about this right now. God, we've been together for almost three years, Wanda. Three long fucking years and not even single effort you made to change our status."

"Y/N, you know damn well I'm not yet ready to make us public." She said nearly shouting.

"Three years is not enough for you? I didn't say that you make us public, all I want is for the team to know. Just them. I'm tired being your little secret, I'm tired of you being mine just around this goddamn four walls. I respect what you want and need, Wanda. For three years, I prioritized what you want, this, but you have to understand that I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this anymore. I kept pushing my needs aside because I love you, but I can't do it anymore. I want to love you, freely. I kept choosing you, I kept giving you all my best me's until there's nothing left for me. I can't choose you anymore." I ramble, on the verge of crying but I kept all my emotions under control.

"Y/N, I… I'm sorry." Wanda softly said standing infront of me.

"Are you apologizing because you're now realizing all of this or are you apologizing because you still can't give the only thing I want?" I asked quietly.

"I'm sorry because I hurt you and I keep on hurting you."

"THEN TAKE IT AWAY! MAKE THIS GO AWAY BECAUSE I DON'T WANT THIS! DO SOMETHING!" I shouted as my tears finally left my eyes.

"Y/N…"

"Wanda, I don't know anymore. Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? I'm getting tired. I tried, I keep telling myself to wait until you're ready but every time, this voices inside my head kept telling and asking me, are you even going to get there?" I cried out.

"Are you… Are you tired now, Y/N?" she shakily asked.

I nod and wiped my tears, "I'm so tired, Wanda. I feel so lost, this between us made me doubt myself so much. Am I not worth the risk for you? I'm tired of wondering how can you just pretend everyday like we're nothing." I sobbed and sat on the bed as I rest my face on my hands, "I'm tired of saying that I'm okay, that it doesn't hurt. I'm tired of pretending everyday. I'm tired of waiting for you to fulfill your promises. I'm tired of defending you against Nat especially myself. I believed in you, Wanda. I kept waiting but it seems like in this relationship, it's not us against the world. It's me against you." I said between cries looking at her to see her crying as well.

"Y/N, I know whatever I say right now wouldn't change anything. It won't take the pain that I've caused you but trust me, I love you. I really do. I can understand how hurtful it must have been for you. I know that I failed to treat you with the love and respect that you deserve. I am truly sorry for any pain or suffering that I have caused you. It was never my intention to hurt you, and I can only imagine the amount of pain that I have caused you. I want you to know that I am willing to do whatever it takes to make things right between us. I am willing to work on myself and our relationship to ensure that this does not happen again. I know that sorry is not enough to fix the mess I have made. I promise to do everything I can to show you how much I love and value you as my girlfriend." Wanda sobbingly said as she held my hand.

"There, you're making promises once again. How many time did you promise me that you'll make it up to me? at first you'll make such effort but eventually, you'll stop and forget about it. I don't even know if I can trust anything that's coming out of your mouth right now." I said and walked away from her, "It hurts me to think that we can't share this part of our lives together with those who are important to us. Am I not important to you? Do you not trust me? Or is it just too scary to go against the norm? I can't keep pretending not to be in love with you when we're around others. I want to hold your hand, introduce you to my friends and family, and just be able to love you openly without any fear or shame." I added. "I don't understand." Wanda said. I chuckled, "I know you don't."

"Do you want to end this? Us?" She asked with fears in her eyes.

I stayed quiet for few seconds thinking what I really want before looking back at her meeting her eyes, "Yes." I husked out causing more tears to fall out of her eyes.

"I'm just so tired, Wanda. I'm tired of the stress and the pressure that surrounds us every day. I'm tired of asking 'how long?' I'm tired of feeling like there's never enough time to do everything we want to do. I'm tired of constantly feeling like we're not doing enough, or that we're falling short somehow. Most of all, I'm tired of feeling disconnected from you. It feels like you've been so busy, so caught up in your own life, that you don't take the time to connect with me. I miss those intimate moments where we could just talk about anything and everything, and I feel like we don't have those as often as we should. It has to be done and I don't want to place blame on anyone— not myself, not you, not anyone else." I walked towards her and wiped her tears before pressing our foreheads together, "I'm sorry, I never thought that this day will come. I'm sorry I got tired and couldn't wait anymore. I love you but I can't be with you anymore. My heart won't start anymore." I finished before lingering a long kiss on her head.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm sorry for not showing it enough. I'm sorry I failed us." She sniffles before looking at me and caressed my cheeks, "I love you… in every universe."

I finally understood that true love isn't always about being together; Sometimes, it's about letting go. Because love alone, wasn't enough.

Both ends of rope were held, but they were held by me, and only me.

I love her too much and that's my biggest mistake I'll never regret, and if I'd ever meet her again in another lifetime, I'll beg the god to let me have you this time.