#essentially being her bodyguards | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cameronsbabydoll · 1 month ago

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— GET TO KNOW MY !READERS ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

SPOILED!KOOK!READER

(the brat in kitten heels.)

she was raised by billionaire parents who bought her everything the second she so much as glanced at it. she’s never heard the word "no" unless it was followed by "—but we can find something better."

she still keeps all her old barbie and bratz dolls lined up perfectly on glass shelves in her pink childhood bedroom. sometimes she talks to them like they’re real friends.

her whole wardrobe is pink, glittery, sparkly — it’s literally an explosion of color. she has hot pink satin dresses, light pink fluffy coats, and bright pink purses with rhinestones.

her nails are always long, acrylic, and decked out in sparkles or little charms. she changes them every two weeks and throws a fit if her nail tech cancels.

very much “paris hilton meets summer roberts meets elle woods.”

she speaks in a very high-pitched, sweet voice — she’s super animated when she talks, always playing with her hair or clicking her acrylics together.

she loves tiny little purses that can’t actually hold anything useful. her bag essentials are lip gloss, mini perfume, emergency $100 bills, and her pink bedazzled phone.

she’s obsessed with luxury brands — new chanel bags, vintage juicy couture sets, louboutins, cartier bracelets stacked on her wrists like candy.

owns a tiny baby pink convertible with rhinestone-studded seat covers.

wears little kitten heels everywhere — brunch, shopping, even walking through the sand at a bonfire (and gets mad if anyone tells her it’s impractical.)

she’s extremely ditzy — she’ll ask the dumbest questions with 100% sincerity (“wait... is alaska a country?”) but she's also sneaky-smart when it comes to getting what she wants.

constantly says things like “i’m literally a princess” and “that’s hot” without a hint of irony.

thinks starbucks orders are a form of personality ("i’m a venti pink drink with extra vanilla sweet cream and extra ice!")

drinks fruity cocktails with names like "strawberry kiss" or "barbie breeze" — anything pink and filled with sugar.

always smells like a mix of bubblegum, vanilla, and expensive designer perfume (think baccarat rouge layered over body spray).

cries when she breaks a nail. screams when she sees a cute puppy. throws tantrums when things don't go her way but somehow makes it look cute.

rafe has to literally carry her sometimes because she’ll refuse to walk if her heels hurt. ("i’m not walking another step. carry me.")

she loves photo ops and making rafe take 500 pictures of her in front of a sunset, a yacht, a boutique, whatever. (he complains but always does it.)

lowkey is a daddy’s girl and drops "my daddy’s lawyer will sue you" at least once a week even though she’s never actually sued anyone.

dreams of marrying rich and being a stay-at-home wife with a teacup poodle in a designer bag.

if she ever argues with rafe, it’s always followed by her sulking dramatically on a satin bedspread in her tiny matching pj set until he buys her something to apologize.

calls rafe things like "my big scary bodyguard" and "my mean mean man" whenever he tries to put her in check (but she loves it.)

BABYDOLL!READER

(the crybaby in a pastel bow.)

she's soft. like really soft — her heart is big, her emotions even bigger. she cries when she sees puppies, when she hears an old love song, when rafe brushes her hair without being asked.

she’s very baby pink, powder blue, butter yellow — all her clothes look like easter eggs in the best way. her entire wardrobe is pastel vintage pieces, old babydoll dresses with tiny embroidered flowers, peter pan collars, ruffles, little gloves she finds at estate sales.

she collects trinkets like a magpie — porcelain figurines, pressed flowers, postcards from the 1950s, ticket stubs, little heart-shaped lockets she’ll never wear but keeps anyway. every shelf, every drawer in her room has something sentimental tucked inside.

when she talks about her favorite things, her whole face lights up — she glows when she tells rafe about finding a new 60s vinyl at the thrift store or a dress that reminds her of audrey hepburn.

she plays her vinyls constantly. her room is always filled with the crackly sound of lana del rey, nancy sinatra, or elvis. (if she's sad, it's exclusively sad lana songs while she cries into a satin pillow.)

she absolutely forces rafe to take her to this 50s-themed diner at least once a week. she’ll dress up in a pastel swing dress and saddle shoes just for the aesthetic, dragging him inside while he grumbles but secretly thinks she’s adorable.

she’s obsessed with old hollywood — posters of marilyn monroe and audrey hepburn cover her walls. framed black and white photos of james dean, frank sinatra, and john f kennedy are proudly displayed in her closet. (rafe gets a little jealous when she gushes over how "handsome" james dean was.)

her closet smells like vintage perfume — powdery, floral, a little bit like old lace and sweet soap. she still has her grandmother’s pearl necklace tucked inside a little velvet box.

she’s so sensitive it’s almost comical — rafe so much as raises his voice and she’s sniffling and looking at him with glassy eyes like he kicked her puppy.

she's a hopeless romantic. she dreams about slow dancing in the rain, kissing in a convertible at a drive-in movie, getting love letters sealed with a kiss.

she’s ditzy sometimes — she’ll burn cookies because she got distracted dancing around the kitchen, or she’ll forget where she put her purse because she set it down to pick flowers.

rafe ends up carrying her home from the diner more often than not because she insists on wearing tiny vintage heels that always give her blisters. she clutches his neck and cries about her "poor poor toes" while he rolls his eyes but kisses her forehead anyway.

she loves baking sweets — cupcakes, sugar cookies shaped like hearts, strawberry shortcake. she wears a little frilly apron and gets flour all over herself every single time.

she’s very clingy — she loves curling up against rafe’s side while they watch old movies, always playing with the buttons on his shirt or tracing patterns on his skin.

she says “i love you” way too much and way too easily. ("i love you," she says while holding up a pretty leaf she found. "i love you," she says when rafe opens a soda for her. "i love you," she says when he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world.)

favorite outfit? a powder pink vintage babydoll dress with white lace socks and mary janes. a big pastel bow in her hair. always lip gloss.

favorite drink? a strawberry milkshake or a root beer float at the diner.

if she’s ever upset, the only cure is laying in bed wrapped in a dozen fluffy blankets, a black and white movie playing softly, and rafe feeding her bites of ice cream while she sniffles dramatically.

BUNNY!READER

(the soft, sweet crybaby who thinks the world is still made of fairy tales.)

bunny!reader is pure sugar and softness — like the inside of a strawberry cream candy. everything about her is gentle and soft-hearted, from the way she speaks to the way she hugs people (she clings for dear life like she thinks you might disappear).

she’s the kind of girl who gasps when she sees a butterfly and cries over commercials if they’re even remotely emotional.

she’s hopelessly gullible — if you told her the moon was made of marshmallows she would believe you and ask if she could try some. rafe constantly has to pull her away from scams ("no, bunny, you can't really buy a star and name it after me.")

she’s extremely clingy without realizing it — always grabbing onto rafe’s arm, slipping her hand into his back pocket, or snuggling up to his chest when they’re standing in line somewhere. if he moves an inch away, she's immediately following like a lost little bunny.

scent? always something sweet and light — strawberries, whipped cream, vanilla sugar.

she’s a candle hoarder — every corner of her room has some girly, pastel candle that smells like cupcakes or fresh laundry. (she lights them all at once and the room smells like a candy shop.)

she loves strawberry shortcake — the doll, the cartoon, the dessert. she has little stickers of strawberry shortcake characters on her phone case and folders.

she’s super sheltered — grew up under tight rules, very religious and innocent upbringing. she still wears a little cross necklace every day and goes to church every sunday without fail, carrying her tiny pastel bible with her name engraved in cursive on the cover.

fashion? lots of frilly white socks, pastel cardigans, soft baby pink skirts, lace-trimmed camisoles, mary janes, hair ribbons, little pearl earrings. she always looks like she stepped out of a 90s barbie dreamhouse ad.

she can't lie to save her life. if she even tries she turns red immediately, her voice goes all squeaky, and her eyes start watering because she feels guilty.

when she's upset she straight up sobs — giant watery eyes, trembling bottom lip, sniffles and hiccups, crying so hard she can't even get the words out. (rafe usually just scoops her up and shushes her, rubbing her back and letting her bury her face in his chest.)

she's obsessed with rom-coms — she thinks love should be exactly like the movies, complete with running through airports and standing outside windows with boomboxes. she genuinely believes every fight should end with dramatic declarations of love.

favorite things? baking cupcakes (and always licking the batter off the spoon), picking wildflowers, writing in her glittery pink diary, making little collages with stickers and magazine clippings, swinging on playground swings like a little kid.

bedroom aesthetic? stuffed animals everywhere (most with names), floral bedsheets, walls covered in polaroids, a basket full of bath bombs and lip glosses, a pink bible sitting neatly on her nightstand next to a strawberry-scented candle.

texting style? way too many exclamation marks, hearts everywhere, sends pictures of cute animals she finds on pinterest and captions them "us!!!!"

she genuinely thinks the best of everyone. like, painfully trusting. (rafe lowkey gets mad sometimes because she’s too nice to random people.)

she can be clueless in the cutest way — like not realizing when someone’s flirting with her or not understanding dirty jokes right away. ("wait... why is everyone laughing??")

she’s the type to ask rafe shyly if he thinks she’s “pretty enough” or “good enough” and when he teases her, she’ll get all teary-eyed thinking he means it seriously. (and then he feels terrible and kisses all over her face while she hiccups.)

she smells like strawberries, sugar cookies, and pink frosting.

BAMBI!READER

(the bookish sweetheart who smells like pumpkin candles and rain.)

she's the definition of cozy — her whole life is like an eternal fall afternoon. she drinks tea out of chipped mugs, wears oversized cardigans that swallow her whole, and leaves a trail of leaves wherever she goes.

gilmore girls is basically her personality. she quotes it without realizing, she always insists jess was the best option (she will give you an hour-long lecture about why rory messed up), and her dream is to live in a little house in a tiny town like stars hollow.

she loves her books more than most people. her bookshelf is overflowing — the bell jar (with notes scribbled all inside), crime and punishment, little women, wuthering heights, pride and prejudice.

she’s a total margin writer — hearts, underlines, little doodles and quotes she loves written in tiny handwriting. sometimes she writes "this made me think of you" next to passages and gives the book to rafe, blushing furiously the whole time. (he tries to read them... but usually falls asleep halfway and just listens to her explain them instead.)

she's obsessed with old bookstores. the smell of old paper and dust makes her giddy. she swears used books have more "soul." she’ll drag rafe along and spend hours picking through shelves, coming out with a stack of battered paperbacks and a starry-eyed smile.

she’s outdoorsy but not like sporty — more like picnic baskets, laying in fields, collecting wildflowers, saving earthworms off the sidewalk after it rains.

she has an entire tote bag dedicated to "book picnics" where she brings a blanket, her latest read, a notebook, and like three types of tea.

if she sees a stray cat or dog, it's over — she's crying and trying to coax it into her car with snacks. (rafe had to ban her from bringing home "every critter you find, bambi.")

she wears mary janes, loafers, pleated skirts, cozy sweaters layered over collared shirts. always with a messy bun, or her hair pinned back with little clips she picked up from thrift stores.

favorite activities? walking through trails when the leaves change color, baking pumpkin bread, annotating books late at night while a record spins in the background, yelling about fictional characters to rafe who pretends to listen but is really just admiring how cute she looks when she’s mad.

she’s a history nerd — if you get her started on ancient rome, world war ii, or victorian england, you’ll be there for hours. she thinks museums are romantic dates.

her dream gift is a rare edition of her favorite book. she would absolutely cry if rafe ever found her a first edition of anything.

she smells like cinnamon, vanilla, and fresh paper.

when she’s sad, she’ll wrap herself in three blankets, put on you've got mail or little women, and cry quietly while rereading her favorite comfort books.

her flirting is so accidental — she'll get all passionate about some character in a book and then realize she's been playing with rafe's sleeve or leaning too close into his space. (and rafe eats it up, pretending he doesn't notice but secretly loving it.)

she always thinks about little poetic things — like "this breeze feels like something from an emily dickinson poem" or "this sunset looks like the color of my favorite chapter in little women."

PUPPY!READER

(the bubbly, hyper little thing who just wants to be loved and played with all day.)

puppy!reader is all energy and excitement — always bouncing on the balls of her feet, twirling her hair around her finger, or playing with the sleeve of rafe’s hoodie because she just can’t sit still.

she’s so giggly — like, everything is funny to her. she’s the kind of girl who laughs so hard at her own jokes that she can’t even finish telling them.

she’s extremely affectionate — literal touch-starved puppy behavior. she clings to rafe's arm, wraps herself around him like a koala, nuzzles into his chest and makes tiny happy noises like she's purring when he plays with her hair.

she talks a lot, fast and breathless, sometimes changing subjects mid-sentence because her brain is moving a mile a minute. rafe just listens with a little smirk, letting her ramble about everything under the sun.

cat valentine coded — super sweet voice, a little high-pitched, always saying things that don't totally make sense ("rafe, do you think clouds get sad when it rains??")

she gets overwhelmed easily — too many people or too much noise makes her cling tighter to rafe’s shirt and go all wide-eyed, like a scared puppy at a firework show.

scent? cotton candy, lemon sugar, and those fruity body sprays you can only get from a tween store at the mall.

she loves snacks — always carrying gummy bears, lollipops, or little bags of chips in her purse like a kid at a sleepover.

she needs praise constantly — if rafe tells her she did a good job or that she looks pretty, she literally beams so hard it could light up the whole room.

crying style? full-on sniffles, watery eyes, little whimpering noises — and she hates when rafe sees her cry because she thinks it’ll make him mad. (he never is, he just scoops her up and rocks her gently until she calms down.)

she’s incredibly loyal — once she loves someone, that's it, forever and ever. she’ll defend rafe like a rabid little chihuahua if anyone dares talk bad about him.

texting style? voice memos (because she’s too excited to type), a million emojis (especially hearts and stars), dramatic “RAFFFFE BABY LOOK!!!” texts with random screenshots or memes she thinks are funny.

she pouts when she doesn’t get her way — big watery puppy eyes, bottom lip sticking out, tugging at the sleeve of rafe’s jacket until he caves in.

she’s a human golden retriever — ridiculously trusting, eager to please, always wagging her metaphorical tail.

she loves anything cozy — fuzzy socks, giant sweatshirts (especially stealing rafe’s), snuggling under huge piles of blankets and peeking out like a little creature.

she names everything — her plants, her car, her favorite lip gloss. she even named the stray cat she feeds every afternoon (even though it's technically not hers).

she’s the type to squeal and jump into rafe's arms the second she sees him, even if they were just apart for like, ten minutes.

naivety level? she genuinely believes rafe when he jokingly tells her she needs a license to eat cotton candy because it's “too powerful for civilians.”

she always smells like fresh laundry, cotton candy, and sunshine.

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nemisuki · 17 days ago

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𐔌✧.* ᑕᕼᗩᗰᑭIOᑎ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || Who could’ve guessed that your childhood crush would become your knight… literally ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

. ♬ ݁˖ || listen along : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★

ᝰ.ᐟ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, acts of service, 1.2k word count •°. *࿐

There was no doubt that these games were intense.

It was always a fierce brawl and clashing of swords, the colosseum being overflowed with the cheers of spectators, all eager to see who would make it to the finale.

The overall victor having the guaranteed prize of a title — becoming a noble knight or prize money — the honor sought for in basically every participant, making the games a celebration throughout the whole kingdom.

As the years went on, Katsuki never saw the hype around such bothersome events, plus he already held the title of a soldier.

Why waste time beating obvious weaklings when he could be doing other things?

He just didn't get it, at least, not until you told him something that essentially shattered his entire world.

"Oi... repeat what you said just now."

The grip on his sword tightened as you smiled, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, the raging storm making his senses sharp, carefully listening to every word that exits your pretty little mouth.

"Hm? That my father is picking a new bodyguard for me at the tournament?"

His gaze hardens. The blonde couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw clenches, brows furrowed with contemplation, teeth grinding together at the mere thought.... the idea of some extra being at your side 247.

Someone that wasn't him.

"The hell is wrong with yur' current one? You don't need another damn guard!"

His voice comes out a little more rougher than intended, but you seem too distracted with picking flowers to notice.

This was ridiculous.

I mean, he expected it eventually, given your title and all, but just not so soon...

"Ah that—! Father said he's being promoted to captain, so I'll need a new one before he changes his post!"

Just great. The only reason he even tolerated your previous guard was because the man was older then you two combined!

But now with him gone and the upcoming tournament, there was bound to be a fresh batch of young males competing in the challenges.

Especially for the main prize — the possibility of being your personal guard — and it irked him to no end, no doubt they'll be competitors who fight not only to protect you, but to sneak their way into that gentle heart of yours.

With that realization alone, his mind was already made up before you could even blink.

"I'm gonna compete."

Your eyes widened, forgetting the makeshift bouquet in your hands as you spin around, the flowers landing on the grass with a small *thump!*

It was as if time went slow in that very moment, when your gazes locked with one another's, the wind blowing against your face, flowy hair swaying in the soft breeze.

"Kacchan, what—"

"I'm gonna compete for you," he repeats again. His gaze unyielding, firm and confident.

Like he didn't just go against his previous morals, like he didn't just backtrack on his past words, like he didn't just make your heart flutter at the steady eye contact.

You were beyond speechless.

He takes a step closer, kneeling down to pick up the forgotten bouquet of flowers at your feet, tightening the sloppy work of a ribbon you tried tying earlier.

The blonde looks up at you, crimson gaze boring into your own as he takes your hand, still on one knee, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaning down, kissing your bare knuckles.

You can already feel the increasing heat on your face, your breath hitching at the action, heartbeat reaching your ears as you look down.

"Just watch princess, I'll win."

You wanted to ask him why.

Why would he go against everything he stood for, for something he used to consider "a waste of time," avoiding all words of encouragement from his friends, family and even yourself.

But the way he looks at you, maneuvering the bouquet back into your hands, like an oath to both you and himself that he'll come out victorious... was more than enough.

Secretly you had always hoped he'd stick around, a subtle fear growing in the back of your mind that he'd disappear from your side one day, grow tired of kingdom life itself — tired of you.

It was a miracle you had even met him, long ago when you two were mere children, stumbling across him in the training grounds when you snuck out of the castle.

You were a crying mess, not sure where to go, lost and in need of a savior; that's where he came into the picture.

A kid your age, temporarily residing at the castle for training, an early opportunity for gifted children who had potential to be great protectors of the kingdom.

"Who's there?!"

Katsuki swiftly spins around, holding up his little dagger towards the tree, narrowing his eyes at the sound of crunching leaves, already on high alert for a potential threat.

He expects some sort of animal, perhaps one of those wild boars his mentor had warned him about, but much to his surprise, a young girl poked her head out, you, tears dripping down your cheeks as you hesitantly meet his gaze.

He freezes.

"are… are you a knight?!"

The blonde tenses as you hastily approach, not even giving him time to speak as you suddenly cling to his side, basically crying a river as you hold onto him, seeking comfort from the first person you stumbled across.

Guess you didn’t take stranger danger into consideration.

"O-Oi— let go of me! Hey!"

He flushes bright red, his dagger falling onto the ground with a clink as he tries prying you off, but much to no avail, not with the way you're sobbing into his chest.

At the time, he didn't know what he got himself into, left stunned as royal guards eventually rushed over, feeling pure relief at the sight of you, the princess, safe and sound in the arms of a grouchy blonde boy — who was in complete disbelief at the realization of your status.

It was then where you always followed him around, finding excuses to visit him whenever necessary, calling him your hero every time you saw him, awe filled eyes studying him, much to his annoyance.

You suppose that's when the fear started growing, as the years went on, you could only find yourself craving more of his presence, and now, maybe he does too.

You break out of the nostalgia as he stands up, a determined gleam in his eyes, grown up from the boy you once knew, but only now, seems he's the one chasing you.

You shyly smile, "just don't kill anyone while you're at it... my knight."

He scoffs, a hint of amusement in his gaze, a smug smile threatening to arise from his stoic expression.

"No damn promises, your majesty."

Perhaps proving his loyalty would come with a price, but he didn't care, not when the day came, with you expectantly looking at him from the podium, sitting in your freshly polished throne and decked out in the finest jewelry and silk.

A bright encouraging smile on your face as you lock eyes.

Nearby participants grew a bit envious at the visible familiarity between you and the blonde, but he wallowed in it, ego intensely growing more by the second.

He smugly grins as the trumpet blows, signaling the start of the battle, already noticing everyone rushing him with purpose — trying to take out the biggest threat — yet he remains unfazed, lifting up his sword with sheer confidence.

"COME AT ME EXTRAS! LET’S MAKE THIS QUICK!”

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| hi my beautiful flowers! hope u like this one, i’m obsessed with she falls first but he falls harder tropes! also huge warm welcome to skyler for joining the taglist omg ty so much for liking my work enough to join the flower garden! sending all my love to you hehe... now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty @skylermiller1 (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

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blythedolly · 1 month ago

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greenlight.

—♡ leon kennedy has been assigned as the personal bodyguard of a prominent popstar. as they spend time together, a strong connection develops and they both become eager to evolve beyond his protective roll.

—♡ warnings: bodyguard!leon, popstar!reader, slowburn romance, smut, rough sex, teasing, nipple play, oral sex (r!receiving), dom!leon, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink?, pet names, fluff, leon is a few years older than reader

—♡ a/n: i’ve been writing this for a while now, it’s quite long (5k words) so grab a snack! thank u for all of ur support <3

“please refrain from protesting this decision, it is essential and entirely non-negotiable at this point. we cannot afford to take any risks,” your manager stated, her tone both stern and maternal. you suppressed an eye roll and responded, crossing your arms against your butternut-colored corset top,

“i wasn’t going to protest, please have a little faith in me, sylv. a bodyguard will enhance my sense of safety. so, why not go ahead with it?”

“absolutely, i’m glad you’re on board,” she expressed, relief evident in her voice. you smiled at her. she consistently looked out for your best interests. you had been discussing the matter of hiring a bodyguard for several months now. since your recent surge in fame had arisen unexpectedly, the overwhelming nature of this transition had been significant. being a woman in the public eye added additional complexities, with every move being scrutinized and recorded. this was undeniably dangerous when alone. in hindsight, it seemed somewhat absurd that your ‘safety’ required a person to follow you at all times, yet the current world can be awful and unsettling. you absently twirled a strand of your soft hair around your fingers adorned with silver rings.

“you mentioned that you are already familiar with him..? what is he like?” your gaze met hers, curiosity arose.

“he’s.. quiet and tends to be reserved. it is challenging to draw much from him in conversation. at least in my experience. however, what matters most is that he is strong and has been in the federal service since he was 19,” she replied. “he’s more than capable of protecting you.”

“does he even know who i am?” you inquired, your naiveté eliciting laughter from sylv, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“everyone is aware of your identity at this point, my dear. that is precisely why we’re having this conversation,” she smirked. “now that you have agreed to my recommendation, i will arrange a meeting time for the two of you to become acquainted, so to speak, since he will be accompanying you consistently from now on. do you have a particular preference for the location?”

“uh… here, i guess? i assume he will be residing here with me?”

“that is correct. the house is quite empty with just you in it, so i’m sure you will manage. regardless, i believe you will appreciate his company,” she stated.

“oh, is that so?” you raised an eyebrow, curious about her implication. “are you suggesting that he is attractive?”

“i shall leave that for you to determine, it’s far more entertaining that way. but let's just say i know your type” she winked. “he will respect your space, so there is no need for concern.” leaning back against the plush cushions of your sofa, which were exquisitely suited to your taste, you gazed at your faint reflection in the window beside you. “i didn’t think it’d be like this,” you whispered, though your voice was audible enough for her to hear.

“i understand,” she sighed. “but, we cannot afford to take further risks. this is for your own safety and well-being. i would not have recommended it if i did not believe it to be absolutely necessary,” she reasoned, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

“yeah, i understand. thank you for looking out for me,” you replied with a smile, which she mirrored.

“i will always look out for you, and so will he.”

once sylv left, you realized that this was likely your last night spent alone. while it was an emotional awareness, there was a sense of relief that you would soon have someone with you. even if this meant sacrificing your solitude, safety remained the main concern.

sylv returned the following morning, as punctual as ever. you approached the door to let her in, a hairbrush in hand, busily arranging your soft, bouncy locks. your eyes met hers, quickly revealing your confusion regarding his whereabouts. “do not give me that look, he will arrive shortly,” she replied, as you rolled your eyes while she closed the door and sauntered into the living room, dramatically sinking onto the couch.

“are you feeling nervous?”

“duh! i am about to meet the man who will essentially become my shadow for an indeterminate period,” you responded, your tone firm yet tinged with anxiety. sylv chuckled, finding your apprehension endearing. “

you will be fine, trust me.” a sudden chime from the doorbell startled you, eliciting a gasp. you glanced towards sylv, seeking reassurance. placing your brush down, you sat forward, observing closely as sylv walked to open the door for the man who would now be your protector.

“leon, it is a pleasure to see you again,” sylv welcomed him as she opened the door, allowing him to enter.

“likewise,” he replied. you felt a lump in your throat as you processed his deep and gravelly voice, an unexpected reaction that caused your heart to race—how embarrassing. you took a moment, mentally gathering yourself. standing up, you shifted your gaze toward him, awaiting his entrance.

and there he was.

at an impressive height of around six feet, he towered over you. his light blonde hair was unexpected, yet it added a unique flair. however, your primary focus rested on his muscular physique. they were the most formidable you had ever encountered. the sight was intimidating yet prompted your imagination to wander. his biceps alone were prodigious, indicating that protecting you would not pose a challenge for him. “uh, hi i’m—” you began to introduce yourself, feeling flustered. he offered a reassuring smile, sensing your nervousness.

“i know,” he stated. “i’m leon, leon kennedy.” he extended his hand toward you, positioned just above your waist, awaiting the contact of your hands for a cordial greeting. you met his hand with your own, offering a soft smile as warmth crept into your cheeks. his hand enveloped yours, emphasizing the size difference.

“it is a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you,” you said, glancing at sylv. “this is my house. i’ll show you around, and you can pick whichever bedroom you prefer. with the exception of mine, of course,” you added, flustered by the unintentional implication. “wait, that sounded rude. i didn’t mean it that way—” a deep chuckle arose from him, which was suddenly interrupted by sylv, who recognized your discomfort.

“relax, it’s okay,” sylv interjected with a teasing grin. “you’ve got this. just breathe.” you shot her a grateful smile, feeling your anxiety start to disappear. leon’s demeanor was surprisingly calm, and his warm smile put you at ease. “lead the way,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

you turned to gesture towards the hallway, trying to avoid overthinking everything. as you walked, you pointed out rooms, describing each one with a hint of nervous excitement. “this is the living room where i spend most of my time watching stuff,” you began, a hint of pride creeping into your tone. “and that’s the kitchen, but i’m no chef, so don't expect any gourmet meals.” leon chuckled softly, nodding as he took in the cozy atmosphere of your home. “i’m sure we’ll figure something out if you ever need help in the kitchen.”

“sure, if you can handle my disastrous cooking,” you laughed lightly, trying to keep the mood light. you showed him the spare room, which was sparsely decorated but held the essentials. “this will be your room,” you explained. “feel free to make it your own, if that helps. i want you to feel comfortable.”

“thanks, i appreciate that,” he replied, appearing genuinely grateful. “i’ll make sure it doesn’t feel too much like a jail cell.” you both shared a smile, and for a moment, the nervousness dissolved into a pleasant camaraderie. as you moved back to the living area, your mind was racing with questions.

“do you... um, do you have any experience doing this kind of work?” you hesitated but felt the need to know more about the person who would be by your side.

“yeah,” he answered, his voice steady. “i’ve been in protective services for a few years now, mostly with high-profile clients and political families. i take it seriously, and i want you to feel safe.” the gravity of his words sunk in, and you nodded, gratitude washing over you.

“woah, that gives me some peace of mind.”

“good,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours. there was an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race. “my priority will be your safety, always.” you had no doubt about it now. leon was not just someone playing a role, he took his job seriously. and despite the awkwardness of the situation, a part of you felt grateful to have him there. as the day progressed, you found yourself easing into the strange dynamic between you both. he was quiet, respectful, but clearly observant. it was comforting, having someone who seemed to genuinely care about your safety without invading your personal space.

“you know,” sylv chimed in later, while the three of you caught a late lunch together, “having someone watching out for you might not be so bad after all.”

“yeah, i guess not,” you agreed, stealing a glance at leon. “it’s just… different.”

“change is always hard,” he said softly. “but i promise you, i’ll make this as easy as possible.” the afternoon turned into evening, and as you settled into a routine of light conversation and casual jokes, you found yourself surprised by how quickly you adapted to leon’s presence. maybe the arrangement wouldn’t be as difficult to adapt to as you thought.

“thanks for being here,” you said genuinely, as the hour grew late. leon looked up to meet your gaze, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a soft smile.

“thanks for giving me a chance,” he replied, and in that moment, something shifted—you realized that maybe this could be the start of something outside of his job.

as the days turned into weeks, you grew more accustomed to having leon around. his calm presence became a comforting backdrop to your new reality. the initial awkwardness of your arrangement slowly faded, replaced by an ease that surprised you both. you would often catch him stealing glances at you during meals, a curious spark in his blue eyes that made your heart flutter. his quiet strength was reassuring, but as time went on, you found yourself increasingly drawn to him in a way that felt new and exciting.

one afternoon, after a particularly long day of interviews and fan interactions, you returned home feeling drained. you shuffled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. leon followed, “how are you feeling, doll?” you smiled, “i’m good,” you replied, smile growing as he sat down in the empty space next to you.

the lightness of the moment felt like a shield against the pressures of your life. as you settled in, you couldn’t help but notice how the late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the room, highlighting the sharp angles of leon’s jaw and the slight shadow of stubble that added a rugged edge to his appearance. you shifted your gaze, your heart racing as a new awareness began to settle. “hey, what do you do when you’re not protecting me?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light, even though your pulse quickened at his proximity.

“well,” he paused, contemplating. “i enjoy hiking, reading, and… cooking. i’m a decent cook, if i do say so myself.”

“really?” you arched your eyebrow.

“i’d like to see you prove that. maybe we could make something tonight?” he regarded you with a hint of surprise, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features.

“are you sure? i wouldn’t want to ruin your dinner plans.”

“i’m already planning on a microwaved pizza,” you replied with a grin. “so you’d be an upgrade.”

“alright, it’s a deal.” his smile widened, and in that moment, you felt a soft flutter of excitement at the idea of being closer to him, sharing that time in a more personal way. you attempted to teach him how to make a few of your favorite comfort dishes, despite your own limited skills. he'd laugh at your fails and encourage you to keep going, and you enjoyed watching him take the lead, his focus and precision in the kitchen impressive. through flour-covered countertops and bursts of laughter, the line between bodyguard and friend blurred, and you found yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking—capturing moments that sent butterflies tumbling in your stomach. one evening, as you bustled around the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stir-fry, leon slid a bowl of marinated chicken over to you.

“let me take over,” he offered, stepping closer. his hands brushed against yours as he reached for the knife. the electricity in the air was palpable, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze.

“okay, go ahead,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. he worked with a deftness that was mesmerizing, you found yourself drawn to how his hands moved, strong and capable. as he cooked, he glanced over at you occasionally, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he turned back to the stove, a hint of something unspoken hanging in the air between you both. after dinner, you decided to settle on the couch for a movie night, the remnants of your meal still lingering in the air. you picked a lighthearted romance film, something to keep the mood easygoing. as the movie played, you nestled into the corner of the couch, and leon took the seat beside you, a welcome presence that was both comforting and thrilling.

halfway through the film, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body. he didn’t flinch or stiffen; instead, he gently adjusted his position, allowing you more room. with every shared laugh, every stolen glance, the electricity between you crackled like lightning in the warm summer air. as the movie continued, your eyes grew heavy. it certainly didn't help that the warmth of his bicep was pressed up against you. before you could even process, you switched off like a light. leon took it upon him to carry you to bed, your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck as he moved you towards your bedroom.

as he gently laid you down on your bed, the softness of the sheets enveloped you, pulling you deeper into comfort. you felt a rush of warmth at the thought of him being there, watching over you as you drifted off to sleep. the last thing you registered before surrendering to slumber was the slight tension in the air easing, replaced by a sense of security that only leon’s presence could provide. he looked down at you, smiling as he admired how cute you looked. part of him just wished he could stay, but it wasn't right. this was a job, he didn't want to risk crossing any boundaries, potentially making you uncomfortable in any way. he took it upon himself to leave your room eventually, making his way to his own room for the night.

he wasn't aware of the time, but he was suddenly stirred awake when he heard a soft knock at his door. obviously knowing it was you, he quickly got up to open the door. he saw you there, looking like an angel. your eyes and cheeks puffy from exhaustion. you stood there awkwardly in your nightgown, not being able to really read what he was thinking.

“is everything okay?” leon asks, his tone as soft as butter.

“i.. uh… i just don't wanna be alone right now, is that okay?” he smiled softly, his heart picking up the pace as he thought of the fact that you want to be with him right now, while you were clearly feeling quite vulnerable.

leon stepped aside, allowing you to enter his room. the dim light cast a warm glow across the space, and he could tell you were hesitating, unsure of whether to enter or retreat.

“you’re always welcome here,” he reassured you, his voice low and steady. you stepped in, wrapping your arms around yourself as if seeking comfort. the vulnerability hanging in the air was palpable, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, simply stealing glances at each other. “would you like to sit?” leon gestured toward the edge of his bed. you nodded, feeling slightly shy about the uncharted territory, but the comfort of his presence was undeniable. as you settled onto the bed, he perched himself beside you, maintaining a respectful distance, yet the energy between you buzzed like static electricity. He was shirtless, adorned in nothing but a pair of grey sweats. you were mesmerized by his body… his muscles… his abs.

“i didn’t mean to disturb you,” you whispered, breaking the silence as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your gown. “i just—i don’t know. i don’t like being alone when i’m feeling this way.” “it’s okay,” he replied softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. placing his large hand on the small of your back

“i get it. i’d rather you feel safe than be alone.” he paused, turning a bit more toward you. “do you want to talk about it?” you shook your head, letting out a small laugh that held more than a hint of nerves.

“not really. i think i just need some company.”

“then that’s what we’ll do. i’m here for you,” he said, his sincerity washing over you like a warm blanket. as the minutes passed, you shifted slightly closer, drawn in by the tranquility he offered. his hand instinctively found its way to rest just beside yours, and you felt an almost magnetic pull to bridge the gap.

“i feel like we’ve been dancing around this,” you said softly, a tinge of boldness creeping into your voice. “this is…different. us, i mean.” leon’s brow furrowed slightly in thought, and when he met your gaze, the intensity in his blue eyes made your heart race.

“yeah, it is different. it shouldn’t be, but it is.” your breath hitched, as you took another leap of faith, allowing your fingers to brush against his. “i never expected to feel…like this. you know?”

“i did,” he responded, his voice husky. the space between your bodies felt charged, with unspoken words hanging in the air like a spell waiting to be cast. you shifted even closer, emboldened by the undeniable chemistry that had been building since day one. “since the day we met, i felt this feeling,” he spoke honestly.

“what if we stopped pretending?” you murmured, partially afraid of where this could lead but needing to express the feelings that had blossomed in your chest. leon’s breath hitched as he processed your words, his gaze flickering between your eyes and lips.

“are you sure about that?” you nodded, your heart pounding as you leaned into him, emboldened by a mix of trust and yearning.

“i really am.” in an instant, the space between you vanished as he reached out, cupping your cheek with his large hand. the warmth of his palm ignited your senses, and your breath caught in your throat as he leaned closer. his lips brushed against yours softly at first, hesitant, searching for any sign of discomfort. when you responded with a gentle move forward, deepening the kiss, a wave of relief and desire swept over both of you. leon’s kiss was tentative at first, filled with an intoxicating mixture of tenderness and passion. he pulled you on top of him, wrapping an arm around your waist as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a delicious urgency. every worry, every moment of doubt dissipated as electricity coursed between you. when he finally pulled away, breathless, you were left in a daze, still feeling the warmth of his mouth against yours. his forehead rested against yours, and you could see the flicker of emotion in his eyes—a mix of surprise, excitement, and relief.

“i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he admitted, his voice low and intimate. you smiled, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

“you could never make me uncomfortable. only safe.” his eyes softened further, and without losing that connection, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb. “i don’t want to rush anything, but i also don’t want to hold back from this.”

“neither do i,” you whispered, feeling a sense of clarity wash over you. in that moment, you realized you were not just two people trying to navigate an unusual arrangement anymore. you were two souls intertwined, bound by circumstances yet drawn together by something so much greater—an undeniable connection that felt both thrilling and tender. leon leaned in again, capturing your lips in a deeper kiss, exploring the rhythm of this new dance together. the world outside faded away, and all that existed was the sweetness of your connection—the laughter, the whispers, the warmth of shared laughter and the fragility of those soft moments. as time faded, you discovered an uncharted territory filled with romantic possibilities, trusting in him completely to navigate the vulnerability and excitement that lay ahead. and you knew, in your heart, you were no longer alone.

“i need you, leon. i want you,” you whined against his lips, feeling moisture seeping through your soft cotton underwear. he nodded his head, groaning subtly. internally thankful that you had given him the greenlight to do what he desperately desired.

“i need you. every sweet inch of you” he emits a low groan, the resonance of his voice producing a tangible effect that traverses through your body.

the tips of his fingers caress the skin underneath the straps of your nightgown, slowly peeling them down to reveal your soft, plump breasts. he swore his heart stopped beating at the sight. your nipples hardened at the exposure of the air, before you could process anything else, leons soft lips had latched themself onto your left nipple. your fingertips created crescent shapes on his chiseled biceps as his lips made contact with your sensitive, hardened bud. your heart raced as you finally experienced the touch that you had long desired.

it wasn't long before his soft lips detached, quickly moving towards the other and latching on as if it was his life source. his desperation was so sensual, and you couldn't help but grind your hips against his, creating desired friction as pleasure shockwaves entranced your body. his hand slowly crept its way between your plushy thighs, his rough fingertips feeling like heaven against your delicate skin.

“need to feel you inside, leon. i'm aching for you,” you whine, finally pushing his slow moving hand to the place you desired his touch the most. your aching, dripping cunt.

“fuck,” he muttered deeply under his breath, his puffy lips still hovering against your nipple. however, it wasn’t long before his lips reconnected with yours again, delivering a kiss that felt intensely passionate and fervent, surpassing anything you had previously imagined. in that moment, you were fully present with the man who would go to great lengths for you, ready to fulfill any request you made. even if it killed him. his fingers trace small shapes against your lower slit, before raising them directly onto your clit. you moaned against his mouth, and that was all it took for something to awaken inside of leon. he flipped you onto your back, propping you up against the pillows to make sure you were comfortable. he peeled your soft nightgown down your legs and discarded it somewhere behind it, then followed the removal of your panties. he removed them quicker than he would've liked, but he needed you so bad, he didn't care anymore. he lowered his frame to rest in between your open thighs, his action causing you to spread them wider. you looked into his eyes as his admired your cunt.

“fuck, look at you. is this all because of me, baby? did i do this to you?” you nodded your head, your fingers moving between your legs to nest in his soft hair. with that simple action, his face dove between your soft thighs, his tongue painting a thousand poems on your most delicate crevices. “oh, leon,” you moaned, feeling his firm tongue swirling around your slit, before licking around your bud and sucking with all of the power he seemed to have. “fuck!” you screamed, pulling his hair which caused a deep growl to vibrate against your aching parts. his entire mouth was on your pussy, collecting every single drop your body had to offer for him. you tasted heavenly, he wouldn't forgive himself if he wasted as much as a single drop. it only took a moment for you to begin unraveling on his tongue, your desperate hole clenching around his relentless tongue. “leon… m’gonna cum,”

“good girl, cum for me. you’re all mine now, baby. always gonna be all mine,” his words sent you right over the edge, your frame vibrating against the mattress that smelt of his delicious cologne. leon didn't stop abusing your cunt with his tongue until he was sure there was nothing left. “how was that, baby?

you were so blissfully fucked out and satisfied, but you craved more. you craved him. the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his hot seed filling you. drool began to pool in your mouth at the thought. your eyes travelled down to his sweatpants, a huge, prominent bulge poking out of the soft grey fabric. you reached out, finger tracing over the tip.

“need you inside me, leon. s’all i need, to feel you cum inside me,” you whine, leon smiles.

“oh yeah?” he clarifies, you shook your head in a yes motion. leon slipped his sweatpants down his legs, letting them fall to the floor. you moaned as his cock bounced up, hitting the patch of blonde hairs that adorned his navel. you didnt know what you wanted more, for him to fuck your pussy or for him to fuck your mouth. he gave himself a couple of token strokes, before placing his tip at your swollen slit. before you could process anything more, leon grabbed ahold of your trembling legs and threw them over his shoulders, before slamming his cock into you as deep as he possibly could. you were sure people 10 miles away would have heard your earth shattering scream. leon leaned down and kissed you passionately, wasting no time to set an unforgivable, brutal pace.

your fingers scratched down his back, undeniably leaving marks that would require some tender love and care once you’d finished up. his thrusts were ravenous, animalistic even. the sweet leon you knew had become something else in this moment, and you weren't complaining whatsoever. he was tearing your delicate pussy apart, but that didn't matter. it was his pussy now. only his. he uses one hand to grip your face as he holds himself up with the other. “keep your eyes on me. don’t look away and don’t close your eyes,” he says. you immediately obey.

“yes, leon,” you reply, and with that, he began thrusting even faster. hard and with no remorse. you never would have expected him to be rough like this, but you loved it. you were struggling to keep your eyes on him as he tore into you, moving his hand from your face to rest on your delicate neck as he kept his brutal pace. the headboard of the bed bashing against the plastered wall.

“leon.. leon!” you whimper as his divine cock abuses your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable, fucking your cunt within an inch of your little life as tears of pleasure falling down your soft, red cheeks. “so deep… feels so good… oh my god, leon,” your nails dug into his bare shoulders as you felt the familiar orgasmic sensation impending, walls clenching around his cock as your body prepares to let go. leon couldn't believe he'd managed to last this long, feeling his orgasm threaten to occur at any given moment with every little whine that spilled from your pretty lips. the delicious sounds only fueling him to fuck your perfect pussy more brutally.

“cum for me, baby. god, you’re so goddamn fucking tight,” he says, moving his hand that squeezed your throat between your warm bodies. as his fingers made contact with your clit, you were unable to hold off the pleasure. so you came around him, hard.

leon watches you closely in awe, the way you convulse under him, the way your eyes rolled back despite your desperate attempt to keep them on him like he’d asked, the way your pretty mouth flew open. that was more than enough to make him cum with a deep grunt, spilling his hot load directly into your cervix. his desperate grunts only seemed to prolong your heavenly orgasm.

both of your bodies were glazed with sweat, hot breaths meshing together as your faces remain only half an inch from each other. his breath smelling like the toothpaste he’d used to brush his teeth with moments before you came to see him, and the essence of your pussy. he moves his hand up to your face once you’d come down, his brutal demeanour completely vanishing as he cups your face, thumb sliding across your cheek to comfort you.

“you’re so perfect, holy fuck i’ve wanted you since the moment we met,” he broke the short lived silence, a smile gracing his face as he watched one form onto your own.

“you and me both,” you admit, heavy eyes locking with his once again. he leans down to kiss you, his hair tickling your glistened forehead. he chuckled and shook, causing you to smile. “what’s so funny, hm?” his eyes meet yours, holding you impossibly close to his body.

“i wanted to fuck you like a princess for our first time together, but you truly awakened something in me. i'm impressed,” he smiles, kissing the side of your neck.

“why not indulge in both, leon? time is our playground,” you say with a playful smile, gently running your fingers through his tousled hair as the warmth of the moment envelops you. “i’m completely yours, leon—every beat of my heart.”

“and i’m yours in every way that counts, angel. always,” he replies, his gaze locking onto yours, hinting at all the adventures yet to come. “just imagine what mischief we could get into together…” the possibilities linger in the air, leaving you both with a shared thrill for what lies ahead.

“i don’t think that’s something we have to imagine anymore, hm?” you tease, arching an eyebrow. “with us, reality is clearly bound to be far more entertaining than any daydream.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil 4 #bodyguard!leon kennedy #bodyguard!au

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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

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in your hands + four

authors note: i know. it's been forever and a day. i apologize and hope this massive ass chapter helps to make up for things. definitely a couple (or more) things sprinkled throughout.

you must read/view THIS and THIS set of text visuals, as they include information referred to in this chapter. also, the story kicked off in september. it's now mid-october. so, roman and solana have been dating essentially six weeks.

warnings: fluff, smut, and some angst

words: 14k (she is long)

masterlist

She doesn’t belong here.

Solana knows it the minute she walks into the club, immediately hit with the uncomfortable aroma of alcohol, weed, and potentially untreated yeast infections.

An understandable combination, however, for just where she stands.

Secrets.

The biggest and most popular strip club in the city. Attended and frequently occupied by everyone from truckers making a stop in town to suits who spend their nights throwing bills at naked women instead of at home with their wives and kids.

A man’s playpen where any and all desires can be granted.

Solana’s nightmare, but one she must brave.

Swallowing and immediately dropping her gaze when she catches the eye of a patron, she nervously clears her throat and tightens her grip on the backpack she has slung over her shoulder.

Focused, she reminds herself. Stay focused.

Pushing past the discomfort, she tries her best to focus not on the scantily clad women who walk past her, some holding trays of food and alcohol, others seeking out potential clients.

It feels like significantly longer than what is the actual time she took to reach the counter, but when she does, she finds herself coughing, overwhelmed with the smoke from a man smoking a cigar a few chairs down.

So much for being smoke-free establishment.

“H–Hi,” she attempts to speak, a difficult task given the loud music. “H–Hello.” Ignored, lost among the loud crowd. Solana once again has to power through her anxiety. “Excuse me!”

An effective alert that earns her a glare from the woman with a Bombshell bra, way too much foundation, and a botched nose job. “What?”

“I–” Solana clears her throat. “I’m here to see about the open position for a bartender?”

The woman rolls her eyes, turning away to finish mixing a drink. “Go to the back. First room on the left.”

Confused, Solana manages a quiet thank you and maneuvers her way through the crowd. For it to only be 3 in the afternoon, this place sure is busy.

The directions prove effective, it seems, as Solana lands in front of one of the biggest men she’s ever seen. A bodyguard of some sort standing in front of a door that has MVP on it written in chromatic lettering.

MVP?

“What do you want?”

The bodyguard barks, his voice just as rude, if not ruder, than the bartender.

Solana repeats herself, adjusting the backpack on her shoulder. “I’m–I’m here to see about the bartender position.”

He scoffs, looking her over, stepping back enough to knock on the door. “Boss.”

“What?” A male voice carries from the other side. Solana swallows. He sounds irritated.

“Some bitch is here about that bartender opening.”

Being called out of her name by a literal stranger most definitely makes her wince, but she says or does nothing else, recognizing how out of her element she is.

“She pretty?”

Solana frowns at the unexpected question from the man still concealed on the other side of the door.

The bodyguard looks her over once more, his gaze unsettling, pushing her to look away. “Yeah. Lil’ redbone.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not walk away and call this a bust. That colorism shit has never settled well with her at all, but the depressing reminder that this is literally her last hope, nothing else having panned out in the past few weeks, forces her to bite her tongue. To have to bypass her morals and values.

She has to.

“Let her in.”

Solana jumps when the man opens the door and motions for her to enter. “Go on.”

Nervously squeezing the strap of her backpack, she walks past him, hating the feel of his gaze on her ass as she does so. He makes a sound followed by the door being slammed shut, causing her to jump.

“Well, you certainly are pretty.”

Solana looks over to the middle of the dark room with blood red drapings over the closed windows, an expensive looking rug sitting under an even more expensive looking desk. Sexual, graphic artwork hanging behind said desk, serving as a backdrop for the man in question.

This MVP person, she would guess. Most likely the club owner.

He stands and rounds the desk, Solana taking in his tall, chubby frame. He’s about her complexion, hair cut short, hairline evened off perfectly. His suit is designer, along with the shoes on his feet and probably the watch on his wrist. His eyes are light, but everything about him is just dark.

It’s hard for her to maintain eye contact.

Still, she has to do this.

“H–hi.” She clears her throat. “My name is Solana Miller, and I–I’m here to see about the bartender pos—”

“Did I say you could speak?” His harsh question and vicious glare catches her off-guard. Very much not the reaction she was expecting. “Clearly, you don’t know how the fuck this shit goes—”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” She truly is. “I didn’t mean—”

He scoffs, waving her off dismissively. “Just get outta here, man.”

Solana’s stomach drops. “Wait.” This can’t be happening. “Please. I’m sorry,” she both begs and apologizes. She’ll keep doing so for just a chance. Will get on her hands and knees if she has to. “I really—I really need a new job. I–I need the money.”

He eyes her, disgust marring his face. “You using?”

“No,” she scoffs, shaking her head. Her eyes start to water. “I just—I’m desperate.”

Extremely so. She has to be to be standing in a place she could never even ride or drive by with a blush lifting to her cheeks. A place, never in a million years, could she see herself seeking employment.

But, with literally every other interview or inquiry ending with her being ghosted or a flat out no, and all the other open positions paying even less than what she’s making now, she’s 100% out of options.

Again, desperate.

He says nothing, continuing to look at her, his gaze shifting from irritated to….something else. Something she can’t name. She just knows that unsettling feeling is returning. “Take off your sweatshirt.”

She freezes. “What?”

He continues talking like he didn’t just make the most outlandish request. “It’s chilly out. You’re bound to have some type of shirt on underneath. Or, a bra. Or, maybe nothing. Don’t really matter.” He shrugs. “Take it off.”

Solana is completely lost at this moment and doesn’t hesitate to express as such. “I don’t—”

“Bartender position was filled this morning.” Her stomach literally fucking drops at his casual announcement of her crushed hopes and dreams. “But, I am down a dancer.”

Her frown deepens. “A dancer?”

The first word Solana has always used to describe herself. A dancer since she could walk, according to her mother. The biggest thing that’s always brought her the most joy in life, but in this instance, has never made her feel such disgust.

This is not the kind of dancer she’s ever considered or envisioned herself being. And, it comes not from a place of judgment but from the innocent, naive perspective of the 18 year-old she is who still hasn't even had sex yet but is now being considered, potentially, for the position of an exotic dancer. A position she’s not even legally old enough to hold, regardless of what her fake ID says.

It’s like MVP is reading her mind, suddenly asking, “how old are you, kid?”

She hates how she hesitates. “21.”

“Bullshit.” Understandable detection. She’s always been a terrible liar. “But, it’s what your card says, and that’s all I can go off of, right?” He smirks, gaze darkening once more. “I said, take off your sweatshirt.”

Solana heard him the first time. It was just the shock of it all that had her frozen. She wants to run out. Wants to leave and wipe this horrible memory from her recollection forever, but once again, the realty of her situation weighs on her.

The reminder of the $18.00 in her bank account that has to somehow hold her over until the end of the week when she gets a paycheck that barely covers some of her mother’s prescriptions.

Desperate.

It’s why Solana has to bypass the light trembling of her body as she drops her backpack onto the floor and pulls her mom’s old college hoodie over her head, dropping it atop her backpack.

Naturally, her arms attempt to cover her body. He was right in that she’s wearing a thin undershirt, but it does nothing to hide her big breast and cleavage.

One nervous look at him, and the wolfish grin on his face turns her stomach. “Well, damn. You a fine lil’ thing, ain’t you?” She says nothing. Has nothing to say. “A lil on the fat side, but that seems to be in these days.”

The jab at her weight doesn’t bother her. She’s heard as such before. Countless times.

MVP approaches and rounds her, Solana shutting her eyes when he makes a sound while standing behind her. “Shit, you got it in the front and the back.” Standing back in front of her, Solana has to blink away the tears when he gently moves her arms down, forcing her breast to fall, leaving her exposed in front of him. “Hmm.” She could throw up. “Nice.” Solana jumps when he gropes her chest, squeezing her breast. “They real, too, huh?”

She can’t bring herself to say anything.

Solana gasps and grabs for her sweatshirt, holding it in front of her body the minute he steps back. She’s never felt so disgusted.

“All the new girls get two weeks to shadow and learn how to work the pole. You ain’t got it after then? You out,” he starts, back toward her as he walks to sit down at his desk. “You’d work nights. At least 4 days out of the week. You get 70% of what you make, I keep the rest.” That slimy gaze travels up and down her body once more. “As I said, big girls are in right now, so, assuming you got what it takes, you’d easily make 10k a night. Take home would be 7k.”

At that, Solana’s eyes widen.

$7,000 a night?

“You do what the fuck I say, when I say it, how I say it, and everything will be alright. I get the first and final say. No matter fucking what. Pissing me off won’t end well for you.” She swallows as his tone shifts yet again to something almost menacing before that sly smile returns. “What you say, Red? You in?”

It’s an overwhelmingly heavy, difficult question. Solana came in, ready and willing to learn how to bartend, the advertised base pay plus tips putting her well over what she’s making now. Pennies. She’s making pennies now, and pennies don’t pay the bills.

Though this….the idea of coming in here, performing and dancing for men, for anyone, in this capacity….it has her fighting back nausea. Again, she would never and has never judged anyone for stripping. She understands everyone has to do what they have to do. She’s just never seen it for herself.

Never wanted it for herself.

Too much. It just feels like too much. She’s 18. She doesn’t want to be having to make these kinds of decisions. She wants to be preparing to head off to school in the fall. To spend her last summer before college with friends, having fun, indulging in all of the normal adolescent things. But, then she’s reminded of why she’s having to make this type of decision.

She thinks about the building stack of bills she’s done her best to keep hidden from her mom, the countless calls she has to dodge from bill collectors. Recalls the emergency account as well her as college fund, both now completely emptied due to insurmountable medical bills. Is hit with the horrific memory of all those nights she’s had to watch her mom coughing up blood, herself and Yolanda stressed and fighting back tears as they try to ration medicine, unable to afford the copay to get her prescription refilled.

Desperate.

It’s why Solana has to shove aside her morals, values, and everything else that makes her….her and sign her name on the dotted line.

A deal with the devil himself.

“I’m in.”

—------------

“Ready to go see Roman?”

The small pout on Raya’s face as Solana changes her out of her Doc McStuffins pajamas into her cute little outfit, courtesy of the man in question, is easily shifted into the biggest smile. There’s a bend in her knees followed by his limbs moving happily, as she exclaims with all the excitement, “Roman!”

Solana giggles, watching her baby girl reach for the shirt she seems to have made her new favorite item.

Roman’s shirt.

Something she snagged from his place weeks ago and hasn’t let go since. Sleeping with it. Holding it as Solana rocks and holds her. Nearby while she plays. It’s like….like a source of comfort to her.

Thankful when her baby girl lays on her back, continuing to play with the shirt as Solana pulls on her tights, she finds herself thinking about the man who has her daughter smiling and clapping more than she’s ever seen before with anyone outside of her mom and sister.

Roman

Just thinking of him has Solana struggling with her own smile.

Unreal.

Something about the man feels unreal. Like, he’s too good to be true. Because, he is. Because Solana can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she’s stumbled into what has to be one of the most perfect men to ever walk this earth. Kind, considerate, rich, sexy as fuck with a big ass dick and wicked tongue that he most definitely knows how to use.

She can talk to him, often texting him when she takes her lunch break at work. Calls that often result in her yawning, stubbornly denying her tiredness because she enjoys conversing with him way too much. She can spend time with him. No amount of in-person interaction ever seems enough. He always leaves her wanting more.

She can fuck him in a way she’s never been intimate with anyone. There’s something exciting, exhilarating, and enthralling about every time he bends her over and makes his way in between her thighs. It’s also the most pleasurable experience that leaves her legs shaking and speech borderline incoherent.

And, maybe the most important thing. Definitely the most important thing.

Soraya.

Once. Not once has Roman given even the slightest indication that Raya presents any sort of problem for this dynamic, this relationship they have going. And, Solana would know because she’s been watching and waiting like a hawk. Almost for the other shoe to drop. Because as amazing as Roman is, perfect or not, when it comes to her daughter, Soraya gets picked every single time.

There’s not a person on this earth that comes before her child.

And certainly not a man.

But, none of that has been an issue whatsoever. In fact, it sometimes feels like Roman expects Raya to accompany them anytime they’re together. Like the times where she gets her sister or mom to keep her baby girl so they can have one-on-one time, that there’s a brief hint of disappointment. Like, he was hoping to see her, too.

Not to mention his financial contributions.

It seems like Roman is incapable of going into any store that carries baby items and not picking up something for Raya. Whether it be a toy, several toys, really, or an outfit—like the one Solana has her wearing right now—his generosity seems to know no ends.

Even his expensive ass Range Rover he’s been letting her use while her broken down car remains just as it’s been the last few months—broken down.

Solana hasn’t been able to drop not even a single penny on anything when Roman is around. The car always seems to have a full tank, even when she makes a mental note to stop at the gas station when clocking out. There’s no need. It’s already filled.

Not that he would admit to handling as such.

Or, when they go out to dinner, not very often as they both prefer her and Raya coming over so she can cook dinner for everyone, and the bill is already paid before the food even arrives.

Not to mention….the other things.

The white Birkin that was waiting at her door when she got in late one night, a sleeping Raya in one hand, her baby bag and Solana’s TJ Maxx purchased bag on the other shoulder. The Tiffany necklace and bracelet set he had waiting for her when she came over one day, Raya at home with her mom, so they could fuck.

He’s even dropped a comment or two about her moving into his place. Jokingly, of course.

Right?

“Roman.”

Soraya repeating the name of the man that seems to have them both enchanted makes all the sense in the world.

“I know, baby,” Solana murmurs, buckling her shoes before standing her up, holding her while kissing her cheek. Raya hugs Solana, burying her little head against her mama’s chest. Solana sighs, gently rubbing her back. “I wanna see him, too…”

Always. Solana feels like she always wants to see the man, which is a bit of an issue when she also has a shit ton of responsibilities that seem like they only keep piling up.

Financial responsibilities.

Shaking those stressful thoughts from her head, Solana gathers up her baby girl, grabbing her already packed diaper bag as well as her purse. She makes sure all the lights are off before heading out the door, locking it.

The car ride to Roman’s place is pleasant, Solana playing a Disney playlist on low to soothe Raya who looks around the car, like she's looking for the man she repeats at least twice during said car ride.

Roman

It keeps a smile on Solana’s face as well.

In less than twenty minutes, Solana has pulled up to Roman’s penthouse, something that Raya has clearly learned and memorized, given the wiggling of her little body and increased babbling.

Raya’s excitement bubbles and topples over the minute Roman opens the door, revealing his big frame dressed in a plain white shirt, khaki shorts and matching Nike’s. His hair is pulled back into that immaculate bun, but it’s that pearly white smile on his face that captures Solana’s attention.

“Hey, babe,” he greets, pulling her in for a brief kiss. It’s brief because his attention is instantly shifted to a smiling, elated Raya who’s already reaching for him. “There she is…”

Solana easily allows Roman to take both Raya and her diaper bag, leaving her to close the door as he walks further into his penthouse. Solana is right behind him, the three of them landing in Roman’s spacious kitchen.

Solana can only watch them.

Something warm and comforting fills her heart in seeing the way Raya looks up at Roman, reaching for his face with all the curiosity. Her smile is large and happy, complimented by his own smile that's slightly smaller but still….heartfelt almost. "I think it's safe to say she likes you."

Solana could argue that Raya more than likes Roman, but that….that feels too much. Too soon.

Way too soon.

He chuckles, seemingly uncaring as Raya tries to pull on his beard. “She’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Solana scoffs, laying her purse next to Raya’s baby bag on the island in his kitchen where Roman had deposited it. “You’ve seen how she is when she’s sleepy but too stubborn to actually go to sleep.”

Roman makes a sound, continuing to hold Raya as she pulls at his beard. “She’s stubborn. Nothing wrong with that.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “Of course, you would say that. You’re stubborn, too.” Solana goes to reach for Raya’s little jacket out of her diaper bag only to realize it is absolutely not in the diaper bag but laying on the sofa back at her apartment. “Damnit.”

Roman looks over at her, Raya continuing to babble and “talk” to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I left her jacket back at my place,” she shares, blowing out a breath when remembering something. “Wait, I think I have one here with her change of clothes.”

Roman sighs, adjusting Raya from the left to the right. “Should just let me buy her—”

“Not happening, big guy,” Solana shuts that shit down as she moves to head to the back of his place. “I’ll be right back.” He says nothing, continuing to entertain Raya as they walk into the living room where he has a damn near mini play area set up for her.

Solana hums to herself, walking into the extra bedroom where Roman has talked her into keeping a few extra items for Raya. As well as a couple of things he’s picked up for her. Except, the minute she hits the light switch, Solana is met with more than just a couple of things.

“What the….” She steps into said room seeing medium to large boxes leaning against the walls. A closer inspection reveals that it’s furniture yet to be put together.

Baby furniture.

A quiet scoff tumbles out of her mouth as she ghosts her hand over the expensive brand he’d purchased. Top of the line. Easily has to be close to a thousand dollars for everything.

If not more.

Solana can’t grab Raya’s little jean jacket and hit the light switch quick enough.

Walking back into the living room, she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of Roman on his knees, carefully watching Raya who starts crawling in his direction, only to tire of the slowness as she moves to stand, little legs rushing over to him.

“Roman!” She shouts happily, eventually reaching and tumbling into him. That small smile stays on his face as he chuckles, holding her, and saying something to her in what Solana would guess is Samoan. Or, maybe Italian. She’s not entirely sure, but it’s definitely not in English.

Shaking her head, Solana steps into their space, gathering the attention of both.

“Mama!” Raya shouts, wobbling over to Solana who also moves to her knees, welcoming her baby girl into her arms.

She kisses the top of Soraya’s head and looks over at Roman. “You mind telling me what all that stuff is that’s in your guest bedroom?”

He shrugs, crossing his big arms over his equally big body. He’s just huge. “I picked up a couple of things for her. I told you that.”

“Roman, buying her darn near a whole furniture set is not a “couple” of things.” Not in the slightest. Clothes, toys definitely, maybe even some dishes but certainly not furniture.

He continues to remain unbothered, not seeing the issue. “I told you it makes sense for her to have all the stuff she needs here.”

“I get that, Roman, but that….you keep spending all your money—”

“Solana, I could live to be 100, and I’d never spend all my money.”

Given the ease he has with pulling out his card, not needing to use his phone to pull up the banking app and check his balance, Solana wouldn’t deny that. She wouldn’t deny that one bit.

“But—”

“You’re not gonna win this with me. I hope you know that.” She rolls her eyes, her traitorous little daughter crawling back over to Roman who welcomes her back with open arms as she fists his shirt. “We’re stubborn, remember?”

There’s something about the way he groups himself together with Raya that has Solana’s chest swelling again with that unnamed emotion. Heavy but….nice. In the best sort of way.

It doesn’t take long for once again traveling to commence, except this time, it’s Roman driving both herself and Raya to his cousin Jimmy’s house. The host of this get-together they're attending. Conversation during the not even twenty minute drive mostly focused on Roman reassuring her that everything’s going to be fine, they’re going to love her and Raya, as well as indiscreet planning for how the night’s going to end.

Preferably with him deep inside her guts, his face buried between her legs, or her mouth stuffed with his unforgivable dick.

Any or all of those things would be great. It’s been a bit of a rough week, and nothing helps her more to decompress than by getting her back blown out by the rich, handsome, older man next to her.

It’s 10/10 every single time.

“Damn,” Solana breathes as Roman parks his car in the cobblestone driveway of what has to be one of the nicest houses she’s ever seen. The type one sees and fawns over on HGTV. The type of luxury most can only dream about having one day.

And, she’s sitting right in front of it.

It’s a bit embarrassing for her when she realizes she's gawking at the house. She feels severely underdressed with her Shein purchased outfit, suddenly wishing she'd wore something maybe a bit....nicer.

Overthinking distracts her from getting Raya out of the car, something Roman has already as he stands holding her diaper bag over one arm, Raya in the other.

Solana climbs out the car, her discomfort clearly plain and visible as Roman reassures her for the eighteenth time. “It’s gonna be fine, Sol.”

Sol.

A nickname used by others. Never feeling as special when it comes from him.

She can only nod, reaching to take Soraya from him. Partially for her own comfort and ease.

Focusing on her baby girl will help keep her from focusing on her growing anxiety.

Roman simply sighs and kisses her temple, hand on the small of her back as he guides her. “Come on.”

Solana adjusts her purse on her left shoulder while continuing to hold Raya who can only look around with all the amazement, her gaze every so often falling and landing on Roman.

Meanwhile, Solana tries her best not to faceplant and focus on keeping one foot in front of the other as Roman bypasses the front door, leading them to the side of the house through the partially cracked gate.

Immediately, she’s slammed with the scent of grilled, fried, and fresh food. Delicious, it smells delicious. Mouth watering, Solana’s stomach grumbling, she takes in the spacious backyard. A large pool with an attached slide and separate hot tub is smack dab in the middle, a patio hosting two grills, furniture, and coolers filled to the brim with soda, alcohol, and water bottles.

The rest of the yard is beautiful, perfect green grass, kids play things set up in several areas with a host of folding chairs to match the host of attendees that are spread across the party space. Music plays from a booth that indicates a DJ was hired.

Damn.

Solana has attended her fair share of get-togethers, but nothing like this.

“Naw……cause growth is realizing Ebony ain’t even did nothing wrong?”

“Ain’t did nothing wrong? Man, she fucked her cousin’s man while living in her house! Diamond should have shot her ass in the ass for that shit!”

“Hey!” Solana jumps ever so slightly, thankful for Raya’s simple giggle at the bark from Roman that effectively cuts through the sea of people, snagging countless sets of eyes. “Language.”

Out the corner of her eye, she sees him gesture to Raya who’s suddenly less smiley and has her face buried into Solana’s shoulder, shyness taking over.

Loud gasps and the almost squeal of a woman. “Finally!”

Solana stills a bit when the woman appears in front of her. Several. They all wear friendly expressions while moving in her direction, but that does little to settle the nerves bubbling in the base of her stomach.

It’s Roman’s hand on the small of her back, his fingers gently raking across that calms her just the slightest.

“You must be Solana.” The woman who spoke first greets. Solana has to take a second to catch herself. This lady is stunning. Deep complexion complimented by her colorful makeup and box braids with neon colors strung throughout. Her features seem almost too perfect. “I’m Naomi.”

Solana opens her mouth to respond when Roman takes the lead for her.

“Solana.” She looks up at him, gently bouncing Raya who continues to keep her face buried, stranger danger on full-on display. “Naomi is my cousin Jimmy’s wife,” he shares, moving to point to the other women. “This is her best friend, Bayley.” A small wave from Bayley as he transitions to the last woman. “And, this is my cousin, Ava.”

“Alleged,” Ava snorts, faux whispering to Solana, using her hand to hide her mouth. “I’m way too good to be related to someone like him.”

Bayley makes a ‘ha’ sound. “Dude, I been saying the same thing since we were kids.”

Roman scowls, lowly growing, “fuck ya’ll.” It puts a small smile on Solana’s face, as she bites back her laughter. She also makes note and appreciates the way he works hard to keep profanity from hitting Raya’s ears, something Solana had previously shared with him. Explained how she tried not to cuss around Soraya, a boundary and rule he's continuously respected.

He’s been great with it, actually, now that Solana thinks about it. Especially since whenever Raya isn’t around, Roman curses like a sailor.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Solana greets, looking at her daughter. “This is—”

“Oh, we know exactly who this is,” Naomi interrupts with that same friendly smile, focusing on the little girl in Solana’s arms. “This must be the fabulous Soraya.”

A thought crosses Solana’s mind. Has Roman spoken with his friends and family about Raya?

About her?

“This is,” Solana giggles, talking to her baby girl. “Can you say hi, Raya?” Glancing at the women, she explains, “we mostly call her Raya.”

“She’s so cute,” Bayley makes a face and pouts, leaning down, hands on her knees, trying to capture Raya’s attention. “Hi, Raya.”

Ava and Naomi make similar attempts to interact with Soraya, Solana attempting to help by continuing to ask Raya to say hi.

And, finally, she does.

“Hi.” The softest, cutest thing accompanied by Raya offering a quick wave before burying her face back into Solana’s shoulder, all the while looking over at Roman who winks, making her giggle.

Gasps around, as Ava shares, “wait, because why are you so adorable?” Raya, as if understanding the compliment, wiggles against Solana who can’t stop smiling at the wholesome interaction. Ava then looks up, eyes pleading, “can we hold her?”

Solana can barely open her mouth when Roman steps forward. “Not without washing your hands.” Solana looks up at him, withholding her giggle. She was going to ask about as such, just not as….blunt. “And naw, hand sanitizer don’t count. Ya’ll not about to get her sick.”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Okay, Dr. Reigns.”

He ignores her smart comment, instead pointing towards the house. “Go on.” Bayley glares, subtly flipping him off. “Use your feet.”

“Roman,” Solana lightly scolds, switching Soraya from one side to the other, her baby girl continuing to look between the people who’ve always seemingly become enraptured by her.

But, right when the women leave, rushing to cleanse their hands so they can hold Raya, a new group arrives. This time, a group of men, and judging by the nearly identical look of two of them, Solana has a good guess about the identification of ⅔ of them.

“Jimmy and Jey?” She asks, hoping to God she’s not wrong. Roman has definitely mentioned them once or twice.

One of them throws his hands up. “You got it, Lil’ Bit!” She cracks a smile, relieved to not have embarrassed herself in front of Roman’s family.

Not yet, anyway.

The one with more of a pronounced, salt and pepper beard and freshly done braids slaps himself on his chest. “I’m Big Jim, and this is lil brother, Jey.” He points with one finger to the man slightly shorter than him with an…..interesting hairstyle. Much like the man on the end with a complexion similar to Naomi, different hairstyle, and piercings she’s not used to seeing in men around his age range.

“And this Truth,” Jey introduces. “My brother-in-law.”

“Don’t worry,” Truth speaks with a little more volume than necessary considering the close proximity of everyone. “My sister ain’t here.”

“That’s cause she ain’t allowed at my house,” Jimmy says with a slight eye roll, offering. “Her ass crazy.”

Solana’s jaw drops once more as Roman chides his cousin for the profanity. “I–umm—”

“Awww,” Truth starts, jaw dropping, hand over his mouth. “Well, look at what we got here.” He leans over ever so slightly, trying to be at eye level with Raya. His voice is sugary sweet and coaxing, perfectly appropriate for a child. Much unlike what comes out of his mouth.

“Hi there, lil’ light skin baby.”

“Truth!”

“Why would you even say that?”

“I don’t know we even keep trying with your slow ass.”

The chorus of protests and slaps from the twins are ended with Roman correcting him with all the baritone of his deep voice. “Her name is Soraya, Truth.”

“We call her Raya,” Solana offers, somehow knowing he means well. His delivery is….something, but he really does have a….gentle aura about him.

They all do.

“What?” Truth appears genuinely offended and confused as to why everyone else around him is offended. He shakes his head, looking at a still smiling, seemingly amused Raya. “Why don’t you go on and tell Uncle Truth what you wanna eat?”

As Solana’s brows furrow with confusion from the ‘uncle’ comment, another round of aggravated sighs emanate around her.

Roman closes his eyes. He looks like his patience is truly being tested in this moment. “Truth, don’t start with that.”

Solana frowns, looking between the men for some insight. “Wh–what?”

“Man.” Jey shakes his head, gesturing to his brother-in-law. “Truth think he can talk to and understand babies.”

As Solana does her best to hide her confusion, this Truth person protests, “I can!”

“No, you can’t, Truth.” Roman objects, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You can barely understand your damn self,” Jimmy scoffs, earning an elbow in his side from Jey. “Oh! What was that for?”

Jey points to Raya. “Don’t be cussing in front of the baby.”

Solana can only laugh at the….interesting bunch.

“Okay!” Naomi’s voice sounds as the ladies return rushing over, Ava not hesitating to shove her way between the twins. However, Naomi is first, standing at the front of the line with a hopeful expression. “Hands are all washed.”

“For at least a minute?”

“What are you, the CDC?” Ava scoffs, fully ignoring Roman, as she looks and directs her statement to Solana. “Is it alright?”

Solana nods. “Sure.” Her lips linger for a second against Raya’s temple as she reaches her baby girl to Naomi who perfectly accepts the handover, awwing with her mouth open as Raya continues to look at them with all the intrigue.

“Hi, Raya,” Ava speaks, giving a little wave. “I’m Ava.”

“I’m Bayley,” she greets, the group laughing when Raya starts babbling.

“She’s saying it’s very nice to meet everyone.”

“Truth!”

Solana can’t hold in her laughter as she watches how naturally everyone takes to Raya and vice versa. Fiercely protective of her daughter, it’s a new experience being around people she just met less than half an hour ago only for them to naturally connect to not only herself but her little girl.

Far from what she was expecting but oh so appreciated.

“She’s such an adorable little girl.” Ava compliments as she’s now holding Raya who pulls at her necklace, clearly trying to snatch it off.

“She looks just like you,” Jey points out, both him and Jimmy also trying to interact.

Pride swells in Solana’s chest. “Thank you.” Given the non-existent relationship Raya has with Cruz and just how awful of a person he’s been since Solana disclosed her pregnancy, anything that her little girl can take from her and only her is so appreciated.

“Babe.” Solana looks up at Roman, feeling him take her hand as he gestures over to the tables with food. “Come on.”

Her smile dims, that protectiveness rising to the surface as she looks back at Ava and Soraya. “It’s okay. We can watch her.”

Naomi shakes her head, sharing as she accepts Raya from Ava. “Can we keep her for a bit? It’s been so long since I’ve had a baby girl to love on.” She takes Raya’s hand, gently wiggling it, one again evoking laughter from Solana’s pride and joy. “My daughter is 8 going on 18 most days.”

There’s a bit of apprehension. Understandable, in Solana’s eyes. She literally just met these people. But, the open layout won’t allow Soraya to be anywhere Solana can’t see. She’ll have eyes on her the whole time.

“Okay,” she relents, Bayley accepting the baby bag from her. “Just let me know if you need anything—”

“We’ll be fine!” Ava dismisses, the women all clearly in seven heaven with Raya who seems just as happy to be the center of attention.

“Told you.” Roman moves to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

Solana playfully rolls her eyes, as he leads her over to the food so they can fix their plates.

But, near the tables where the delicious smelling food is laid out are two other individuals. Caucasian men who chat quietly among themselves, one on the thinner sider, the other a bit more stocky.

The thin man with two-toned hair pulled back into a bun, similar to Roman’s, starts with a small grin, seeing the two of them head over.

“Big Dog,” he greets, him and Roman exchanging that man hug before Roman does the same with the other one.

“Solana.” Roman looks down, moving to stand back beside her, hand resting on her back. “This is Seth and Dean. Two of my oldest friends.”

“We go way back,” Seth chuckles, offering his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Solana. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” For some reason, that’s surprising to her. It’s obvious Roman has talked about her. His family confirmed as such, but just how much has he talked about her? “Good things, I hope?”

“Totally,” Dean chimes, right before abruptly opening up a bag of chips, stuffing his mouth and offering a muffled, “Dean.”

Solana smiles. She can already tell he’s an….interesting soul. In the same way Truth is, but still….innocent.

“Well, it’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“Same,” Seth agrees. He motions behind her. “And, I take it the star of the show over there is Soraya.”

Solana’s smile naturally grows. “You’d be correct.” She turns around, seeing that Raya is still very much enjoying all of the attention and interaction. “I’d introduce you, but….”

“I get it,” Seth chuckles. “I have a daughter, too. The gang here see a cute kid and lose their shit.”

“Word,” Dean says, Solana trying to hold back her laughter. A character for sure.

But, as Roman and Solana prepare their food and chat with the other two men, another conversation transpires revolving primarily around a certain Soraya Miller.

“I’m not even being dramatic, dude.” Bayley starts, sitting Raya on her lap as the little girl plays with her necklace, clearly intrigued by the locket. “This has to be the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Isn’t she?” Ava is in awe, trying to capture Raya’s attention with peek-a-boo.

“She is a cute—”

“Psst.”

The way the group collectively cuts or rolls their eyes at what they all know is about to be some shit.

Jey, however, is the brave soul. “What, Truth?”

He looks around, as if expecting someone to eavesdrop before pointing to Raya. “Ya’ll know this Roman baby, right?”

“Oh my God.”

“I knew it was gon’ be something with him.”

“Why do ya’ll even still hang out with him?”

“Truth.” Jimmy closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is not Roman’s baby. This is Solana’s baby.”

“Man,” Truth dismisses, clearly grounded and cemented in his baseless theory. “Look at her.” The group does, Raya clapping and giggling, completely oblivious to the conversation at hand. “She look just like him!”

Jey opens his mouth to protest when he takes another look at Soraya. “Hey….” Several sets of eyes land on him. “I’m not saying Truth right, but….she do kinda favor big Uce.”

“Lord, not you, too,” Naomi groans.

“I’m just saying,” Jey defends, his hands up in an almost surrender motion. “I can kinda see it.” He then takes it a step further, asking his twin brother something that’s been on his mind since the two arrived. “Does Solana look familiar to you?”

For the life of him, he can’t figure out why, but there is definitely something familiar about his cousin’s new girlfriend. Like, he’s seen her somewhere before.

He just can’t figure out where.

But, as Jimmy goes to reply, offering a small level of agreement, Truth does what Truth does best.

“It’s cause they all light-skinneded’!”

“Truth, shut up!

—--------

Natural.

It all feels so natural. The way Solana and Soraya seem to blend in with Roman’s inner circle. Everyone is so nice and friendly. Hilarious as well. Jimmy and Truth are most definitely the comedians of the group. Dean is too, in a weird sort of way. He’s not necessarily trying. Just being himself.

The story she’s told about their meeting with Roman way back in middle school makes all the sense in the world. Three stubborn kids who couldn’t get along and landed a detention one day that made them realize they had more in common than they initially realized.

Classic.

“She’s so beautiful!” Solana compliments, handing Naomi back her phone that shows a picture of her and Jimmy’s daughter, Aniyah. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Chile, she with Jimmy parents getting even more spoiled.” Naomi answers, placing her phone back in the pocket of her jean shorts. “Plus, this is an adults only get-together.”

At that, Solana stills. “It is?” Naturally, her gaze falls over to where Roman is talking with the rest of the men, holding Raya who hits at him, clearly wanting his attention and not liking having to share it. Roman takes her hand, letting her shake and play with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—Roman didn't—”

Because, he most definitely did not tell her Raya wasn’t technically allowed. And just like that, she feels bad.

“No,” Ava cuts in. “Raya is absolutely fine. We wanted you to bring her. Wanted to meet her and you.”

It’s helpful reassurance, for sure. Moving, too. They wanted to meet her.

Meet Raya.

Solana hasn’t forgotten Roman’s not so great description of his twin sister, but so far, everyone else in his family more than makes up for it. Bayley then adds, “Absolutely. It’s really just Jey’s bad ass children no one wanted to deal with.”

That being the second or third time someone has alluded to Jey’s children, Solana has to ask, “are….are Jey’s children really that bad?”

Naomi blows out a breath, asking, “you know the show Beyond Scared Straight?”

Solana nods. “Yeah.”

“They got rejected for being too horrible.” Solana’s eyes widen. What the hell? “That should tell you everything you need to know.”

“Doesn’t one of them have a court date coming up soon?”

“Hell, probably.” Naomi shakes her head at Bayley’s question as Solana continues to sit partially floored. Jey seems so nice and friendly. It’s hard to imagine him with such…..difficult offspring. “Man, they keep hogging her.”

Solana refocuses to see Naomi scowling, watching Raya, still being held by Roman, interact with Jey who makes some sort of up and down hand motion. Like, he’s trying to show her how to do something.

“She really is such a sweet baby. You can tell she takes after you.”

Ava’s complement makes Solana’s stomach flutter in the best way. “Thank you so much.”

“How old is she again?”

Solana smiles with all the pride of a mother. “She’ll be one in two weeks.”

Naomi gasps. “Her birthday is coming up?” Solana nods, watching Naomi pull her phone back out as she unlocks, does some tapping and hands it to Solana. “Give me your number, and text me what size she wears so I can get her something.”

Solana barely has time to protest when Ava and Bayley express the same, also asking for Solana’s number so they too can buy Raya something.

“No, you really don’t have to—”

She’s cut off by Bayley sucking her teeth. “Way too late for that, dude.” Biting down on her bottom lip, Solana programs her number, as Bayley asks, “are you throwing her a birthday party?”

A bit of embarrassment fills the young mother as she gives Naomi her phone. “No. Umm….just a little get-together with my mom, big sister, and her family.”

Her explanation isn’t met with any looks of judgment or confusion, which is partially what Solana was expecting. What mother doesn’t throw a birthday party for her daughter’s first birthday?

A broke one.

That’s who.

It’s a depressing thought. Solana would love to celebrate Soraya the way she deserves, but financially, she just can’t cut it.

And, it sucks. It sucks a lot.

“Well, you can bet baby girl will be getting a bunch of gifts from her new aunties,” Naomi announces, smiling with excitement. “I love shopping. Especially for babies.”

“Thank you, but you—you really don’t have to.” You don’t even know me, is what Solana really wants to say.

“Too late,” Bayley cuts her off, however, clearly uninterested in anything that doesn’t revolve around trying to land on what gifts to get for Raya. “Okay, they’ve had her long enough.”

“Agreed,” Naomi sounds as she and Bayley make their way across the yard, fed up with having to wait their turn to play with and hold Soraya.

Solana can only chuckle.

One thing for certain, her baby is sure to sleep good tonight.

“He’s good with her,” Ava’s voice pulls Solana from her thoughts, as she one again looks over to the group. Roman stands arguing with Naomi and Bayley, clearly not wanting to hand over Raya who seems more than content being held by the man.

“He is.” Solana agrees. The way Roman has been so patient, understanding, and kind to her daughter is one of the biggest reasons she adores him as much as he does. The sex is amazing, but him being good to her daughter?

Priceless.

“Gotta admit, it’s a little surprising. Never really took Roman for the family man, but now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

Solana frowns, angling her body towards his cousin. “What—what do you mean?”

Ava sighs. “Roman’s parents…..they’re not the best. Actually, if I’m being honest, they're pieces of shit. Always have been. It’s why he has a poor relationship with them to this day.” Solana recalls Roman hinting as such but has never really pushed as to why. She wanted to respect his boundaries and privacy. “His twin sister, Rosalia? Total fucking bitch, but it’s not exactly unwarranted. Their parents only ever wanted a son, and they never tried to hide that from her. Shipping her off to fancy private all-girls schools every chance they got.”

Solana also recalls him describing his sister as not being the easiest, but if what Ava says is true, and Solana has no reason to believe otherwise, it definitely does make sense.

And, in a weird way, Solana can relate.

Can relate to Rosalia.

She, too, knows what it’s like to feel unwanted and unloved by a parent.

To be abandoned.

Needing to pull from her own unresolved issues, Solana inquires, “and Roman?”

Ava scoffs. “It’s hard to say if he had it worse. He was mostly kept here, and while his parents never hesitated to dump him on nannies, they made it clear when they were around that nothing less than perfection would be accepted. His dad traveled a lot, his mom doing anything she could to never be home. He spent most of his childhood by himself. Would go over to uncle Kish’ house a lot, the twins' dad, because his parents would literally leave him home alone all the time with just the help and security.” Solana’s heart practically breaks at that. Imagining Roman as a child, even a teen, in what was probably a big ass house. An empty house. “Majority of the time they spent with him was largely focused on his tra—” Ava stops herself, and Solana finds herself wondering why. Wanting to know more, even if it is all just heartbreaking to hear. “He just really got the short end of the stick the first 18 years of his life.”

Solana doesn’t deny that. Just listening to it is….heartbreaking almost. “That’s….that’s terrible.”

Ava nods, tucking a piece of her hair behind her pierced ears. “Anytime he could be at the twins house or even mine, he would. I think he just didn’t want to be alone. He was just a kid.” She stops, a small frown appearing on her pretty face. “Just wanted a family who wanted and loved him.”

As does any kid. Roman didn’t want or desire anything that any other child wouldn't want. Should have.

Deserves.

“Obviously, he’s a man now, so things have changed, but…” As she trails off, her sight sets on the other side of the yard, as does Solana. The two of them watching how Roman, even while not holding Raya anymore, seems to be instructing Naomi, who does hold her baby girl. Most likely trying to tell her the do’s and don’ts, all the while Raya continues to beam up happily at him. Content. “Maybe not everything.”

—-------

A little while later, the group is more mixed up, primarily because of Candy by Cameo that plays as the bulk of them dance.

A determined Jimmy and Truth trying to show a rhythmless Dean the unofficial/official choreography. However, Roman’s focus is more on Solana who holds Raya while laughing and dancing along with everyone.

There’s something that fills him seeing how natural she blends in with his close friends and family.

Like….like she belongs.

They both do.

“I like her.” Roman looks to his left where Ava comes to stand beside him. She, too, like himself, is not the biggest on dancing. “She’s a sweet girl. They both are.”

Roman looks back over to the mother-daughter duo. “I know.”

Silence befalls them for a good minute, but it doesn’t last long. And, Roman is unsurprised. He knows her well. Knows she has something she wants to say to him.

And, she does.

Ava turns towards her cousin, more like a brother than anything. “Roman, what the hell are you doing?” He sighs. “You’ve been seeing this girl for what, almost two months now and you still haven’t told her the truth about who you really are?”

Roman says nothing at first, because there’s nothing to say. He knows it’s wrong and won’t try to deny it. “I know.”

“Do you?” She challenges, crossing her arms. “Because you yourself have said you see her at least twice a week, and in all those interactions, you haven’t found the time to tell her the truth?”

His jaw clenches as he angles his body away from the group, not wanting Solana to detect the tense exchange occurring. “It’s not that easy.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. Not with how long you’re stringing this out.” She scoffs. “I’d understand if it was still only a week in. Hell, maybe two, but it’s going on six weeks, Roman.” She shakes her head. “You should have told her by now. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.”

“I know that, Ava. I’m not fucking stupid.” He isn’t. Roman knows the longer he goes without telling Solana the truth, the harder it will be. But, it’s also pretty fucking difficult to find the right time to tell her that he’s a fucking mafia boss and heads two of the biggest crime syndicates in this hemisphere.

“I don’t know, cause right about now, I’d say that’s debatable.” Ava’s expression and voice soften just a bit. “It’s not even just that, Roman. Not even just who you are. It’s about what you’re supposed to be doing right now.”

His eyes narrow, defensiveness and a sense of protectiveness building. “That’s not what this—”

She cuts him off, motioning between the two of them. “I know that, and you know that, but what about Solana? What about when she finds out?” An important, valid question he probably hasn’t thought about a ton, if he’s being totally honest. “Cause I can tell you from a woman’s perspective what it’s gonna look and feel like.” She moves right into sharing. “It’s gonna look and feel like you found a younger, naive woman to give you exactly what you need. And you know she can do it, because she already has one child.” More softening, her voice also lowering. “And what about Raya? Have you thought about her in all of this?”

That defensiveness jumps to level fucking ten. “Of course, I have.”

Ava’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. “She’s just a baby, Roman. And, it’s obvious she already has an attachment to you.” And you to her. But, Ava opts to keep that assessment to herself. “If this goes south, it’s gonna be hard on her—”

“It won’t,” Roman’s voice cuts like steel. “I won’t let it.”

Ava just looks at him, fully recognizing the switch. The clench of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders, the hardening of his gaze. It’s less her cousin, the one she grew up with and knows like the back of her hand, and more the ruthless, stoic, mafia kingpin that many are wise to fear.

His determination is unshakable.

“I know what I’m doing, Ava.” And that tone, one of finality, tells her without telling her that this conversation is over. He’s done talking.

She sighs, watching him walk back over to the group, as the song has ended and most are just conversing.

“I certainly hope so….”

Roman is close enough proximity to reach for Solana who kisses Raya’s temple as she holds onto and hugs her mother. Something tells him baby girl is getting closer and closer to nap or bedtime. Her energy noticeably lessening as the hours past.

Naomi is looking down at her phone, smiling. “Oh, that was good.” She’s most likely looking at some clip of the group of them dancing. “I should post—”

“What?” Solana’s voice cuts through the low chatter, Roman looking at her. He sees it the moment it happens. The moment her smile drops, replaced with something indistinguishable.

Fear.

“Post?” She asks, fidgeting a bit, her grip on Soraya lightly tightening. “Like…like on social media?” Naomi can’t even open her mouth to answer. “Please don’t.” Roman watches the interaction with a mixture of confusion and slight intrigue. Same as everyone else. “I—I just don’t….I don’t like her face being online.”

Naomi once again goes to respond, this time successful in her response. “Oh. Of course. I get it.” She points to Jimmy. “We’re the same way with Aniya.” She offers a small smile. “I’ll just share the clips that don’t have you and Raya in them.”

And just like that, relief appears, Solana’s entire body relaxing. Relieved. She’s relieved. “Thank you.”

Naomi says nothing, and neither does anyone else, but Roman is certain they’re all wondering the same thing he is.

What was that about?

—-----------

Roman’s assessment proved accurate.

Less than an hour after the social media thing, Raya started to get fussy, giggles turning into crying, wanting only to be held by her mama.

Tired.

She was tired and reached her max for the day, hence Solana and Roman having to head out. Solana doesn’t leave without damn near everyone’s numbers and a mandatory promise to come visit sooner rather than later.

Naomi mentioned something about a girls spa day.

Solana didn’t have it in her to explain she can’t afford anything like that right now, deciding to tackle it when that conversation arises.

Overall, Solana would 100% consider the evening a win. Roman holds her hand almost the entire drive back to his place, the other expertly handling the steering wheel, talking and conversing about the kickback. His eyes, as well as Solana’s, frequently use the rearview mirror to check on Soraya who sits mostly quiet and exhausted in her car seat.

By the time they arrive to his place, Roman is partially expecting Solana to come up, at least for a couple minutes. But, that doesn’t happen.

She instead walks over to her (his) car, unlocking and opening the passenger door, strapping Raya in before turning to look up at him. “Give me like two hours.”

He looks at her, curious. “Why?”

Solana offers a small smile, gesturing to Raya who’s gradually succumbing to the sleep that calls to her. “Gives me time to get her settled and put down for bed.” A gentle kiss to Raya’s forehead prevents Solana from seeing the fleeting look of disappointment that appears in his warm eyes.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “You sure….you sure you don’t need….like help or something?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good.” Her smile remains the same, slipping into something teasing. “I’m sure another two hours won’t kill you, big dog.”

The scowl on his face makes her giggle. “Don’t ever call me that crap again.”

“Noted,” she chuckles. Unsurprisingly, Roman helps Solana get loaded up in the car, placing her purse and Raya's baby bag in the passenger seat. There’s an intentional slowness and caution he uses to close the door, not wanting to startle an exhausted Soraya.

Soraya, whose little mouth and face scrunches up as she yawns, grasping at her mother while murmuring, “Roman…”

Solana’s chuckle is soft. “Roman has to stay here, mija. It’s time for you to go night night.” Raya’s response is to pout, indecipherable sounds indicating a potential tantrum is on the horizon.

“Wait.” Solana looks back to see Roman turning to head back the elevator that leads up to his penthouse. Confused, Solana does as he asks, entertaining Raya, rubbing her lil tummy with one finger, trying to hold off that pending fussy fit.

The sound of rushed footsteps prompts her to turn around to see Roman, something black folded over his shoulder.

She continues to look confused as he moves his hand to the small of her back, gently pushing, indicating he needs her to move. She does as such, watching his big body move to where she previously stood.

Roman says something in Samoan, or Italian, reaching the black item to Raya. The way she continues to pout, fisting and playing with Solana now realizes is a shirt, easily morphs into a smile as she happily kicks her legs, giggling.

A shirt.

It’s his shirt.

“There you go….” He says, index finger moving in an almost circle on her stomach as she happily babbles, holding and hugging the shirt.

Solana scoffs, that damn familiar feeling returning. “Wow….” Roman steps back and glances at her. “Keep this up, and you’re gonna need to subscribe and save.”

He shakes his head, moving closer and kissing her forehead. “Two hours?”

She nods, biting down on her bottom lip. “Don’t be late.”

“Oh, trust me….” His eyes rake over her with undeniable lust. It has Solana pressing her thighs together. “I won’t be.”

“Good,” she murmurs, as he backs away, hand on the back passenger door. She sees the way his expression softens as he looks back over at Raya. “Night, Soraya.”

Her response is a happy shout of his name. “Roman!”

He smiles, gently closing the door before looking back over at Solana. “I’ll see you in a lil’ bit.”

Solana nods in response, silently walking over to the driver's side, climbing in and starting the SUV.

The car ride is mostly silent, sans Raya babbling occasionally, calling for Solana, never once letting go of the shirt she continues to play with and hold close to her.

It keeps a small smile on Solana’s face for certain.

True to her guesstimate, it takes about a total of two hours for Solana to get Soraya bathed, changed, and fast asleep in bed followed up with Solana hopping in the shower and preparing for Roman’s arrival.

A quick little shave, the spray of that body spray he seems to always compliment her on when she wears it, grabbing that beach towel that’s sure to earn its keep before morning hits.

She bypasses anything lacy or sexy, simply settling for an oversized shirt that covers her nude body. It truly makes no sense to her to get all done up in anything when he’s going to rip it off her in a matter of minutes.

Besides, too many items separating him from her. It’s been a long ass day. Good, but long, and she wants to end it in the best way she knows how. How to decompress, that is.

By riding the shit out of his big ass dick.

Solana feels a bit embarrassed by how quickly she hops off her sofa at the sound of three light knocks. A quick glance through her peep hole is probably unnecessary, but she’s always leaned on the side of safe than sorry.

Tried to, at least.

Smiling all giddy and elated, she unlocks and swings open that door with way too much enthusiasm that only grows when she sees him. He’s also clearly showered and changed, bun not as neat, slightly messy. She loves it.

Dark gray sweats hang low accompanied by a plain black shirt as well as Jordans. His gaze sweeps her over, settling on her breast that press against her tee, offering a nice outline of her nipples.

Roman welcomes himself inside, grabbing her by her ass and pulling her into him. Solana inhales deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne. Masculine and woodsy. It’s so him. “What took you so damn long?”

She smiles as he leans down to kiss her. Solana’s hands move up his shirt, grasping onto his shoulders as she smiles into said kiss. “Patience.”

He scowls, kicking the door closed behind them. One hand stays palming her ass cheek while the other moves to lock the door without even needing to look. “For you? That shit’s impossible.”

He kisses her once more before his eyes lift above and behind her. “She sleep?”

Solana nods. “Didn’t take very long. She was tired.” She drops her hands, scrunching the bottom of his shirt. “Though the two shirts she’s now sleeping with in her crib could also be factors.”

His eyes seem to light up at that. “Yeah?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t get them away from her.” At some point, Solana might have to talk to Roman about the non-existent sustainability of this shirt thing. Keep it up, and her baby girl’s crib will be filled with nothing but men’s shirts. It’s fine now, especially since, for whatever reason, Soraya seems to find comfort with them.

But, eventually, they’ll have to figure something out.

“Hey.” Her voice lowers, Roman’s hands shifting to her hips, continuing to hold her close to him. “I really enjoyed myself today.”

His lips lift into a small grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods, unable to not mimic his grin. “Your family and friends are amazing. You were right. I….I really didn’t have anything to worry about.” It feels like night and day. The anxiety that filled her when he first mentioned/invited her to meet them all. Now, she finds herself wondering about when the next get-together will be. “And more importantly, they….they took to Raya so well.”

“Of course, they did.” He sounds like he can’t understand why she would think or anticipate anything different. “Like mother, like daughter.” The back of his hand brushes against her cheek. “What’s not to love?” Fluttering in her stomach is accompanied by the blush on her face when he leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I did,” she reassures, holding onto him. “Learned a lot about you as well.”

His brow lifts. “Oh?” She nods, giggling when he starts to scowl. “What the fuck did Ava tell you?”

Her giggling deepens. They have such an adorable relationship to her. “Nothing bad.” Nothing serious anyway. “I just….why didn’t you tell me you’re a fighter?”

There’s a shift in Roman’s disposition. It’s felt in the way he almost tenses against her. “What?”

“At the Warehouse?” He relaxes just a bit, though the initial reaction slightly confuses her. “I mean, it makes sense….” Solana drinks him in, imagining the clothes were non-existent, leaving him in the buff. Nothing but thick, strong muscles accentuating his big body. God, she needs him, and she needs him now. “But, I don’t know….maybe I could come see you fight sometime.” Her daughter too young to be exposed to that sort of thing, so Solana would definitely have to have either her mom, sister, or Kayden keep Raya, but with enough time given in advance, that could be arranged.

Except, that doesn’t seem to be anything on Roman’s radar. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Solana scoffs quietly. “Why?” Wiggling her brows, she dances her finger down his solid chest. “Might be kinda sexy to see you kicking ass.”

Far from a violent person, there’s something appealing and alluring about imagining Roman in the ring fighting. Dominant. Leading.

Sexy.

His scowl remains as he shakes his head. “That’s….that’s a different part of my life.” At that, her smile dims. “I want to keep that separate from you. Separate from Raya.”

By the end, she’s frowning. Everyone is allowed to have their thing, but she’s not fully understanding just what about this would make him want to keep it away from her and Raya.

“Roman—”

“Baby.” It’s disgusting how her thighs clamp together just from a single word. “You know I could talk to you all night, but that’s not what I came over here to do.”

It’s redirection, or maybe just avoidance. Regardless, it’s effective, nonetheless.

Solana lowers her gaze and eyes, licking her lips. “So….” Slipping her hand past the waistband of his sweats and boxers. Solana gasps at the same time his jaw clenches when she attempts to wrap her hand around him, fingers unable to touch from his girth. “What did you come to do?”

—---------

“Oh, shit.”

The minute it leaves her mouth, she knows she’s fucked up.

And, it’s less what was said and more how loud it was.

He’d already warned her twice before about her volume, something she already knows needs to be monitored given her daughter who sleeps peacefully in the room over. The last thing anyone wants is for Raya's sleep to be disturbed, but none more than Solana and the man both behind and under her.

“Hmm,” he hums. Solana pants, doing her best to prepare for whatever awaits but never once stopping the gyrating of her hips. It’s addictive and sinfully delicious the stretch of his massive dick inside of her. How overwhelmingly good it feels to have him so deep, touching and hitting against her G-spot. His lap is nothing but a resting place for her juices that have to have that beach towel soaked. Understandable given this has to be the third round. Maybe fourth.

Truth be told, she always loses count after the first. Its strength always too discombobulating for her to be tracking anything.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” He asks in a dangerously calm voice as she transitions to bouncing on top of that God-tier dick. Roman trails his lips against her temple, one hand going to and squeezing her left breast. “Answer the question, Solana.”

Her “answer” is a moan and a ‘fuck’ she has to bite back and keep within as he presses the rose even closer to her clit. How she’s not screaming is a mystery to her, because he must have adjusted the setting.

It’s never felt like this.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, trying to push the rose away, the overstimulation becoming too much. “Please, Ro—”

“But, you weren’t a good girl, were you?” His deep voice is both irritating and alluring and has her juices continuing to leak out of her stuffed pussy. "You didn't listen." His dick is suffocating and unforgiving, completely consuming and squeezing every inch out of her tight hole. “So, why should I help you?”

“You’re—fuck you.”

His chuckle reverberates against her as he moves to play with her nipple. “But, that’s what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

A truth she can’t deny unlike the burning of her thighs from having been in this position far too long.

He’s sitting and propped up against her headboard. She’s straddling him, her back into his front, her legs spread on either side of him as she leans back, continuing to ride him. But, that’s not enough for Roman. The basics are never enough for him. He has to take it a step further, and this time, it comes in the form of using her rose on her clit while she bounces atop his lap.

Again, too much.

He starts kissing along her shoulder, praising her endurance that comes from fuck knows where. She should be completely immobilized at this point. “And, you do such a good job for me.” Her eyes flutter shut, Solana suppressing another scream as he once again moves that damn rose even closer into her clit, deepening its impact, all while he continues to play with her titties. “Perfect lil’ thing….”

“Roman, I can’t—” She stops, her movements slowing, the sensations too immense. “I’m gonna–ahh!” She reaches for his wrist, trying to pull that damn rose away from her. Solana feels like she’s seconds away from borderline sobbing. “Roman, stop.”

“Is that really what you want?” No. It’s not what she wants, and he knows it. He knows her, knows her body, her limitations, when she’s at her breaking point. Has learned her all too well. “Naw….that’s not what you want.” She can practically see the smug ass grin on his handsome face as he continues to use that evil ass toy to torture her. “You love when I do this shit. Stretch this pussy until you can’t take it anymore. Make you all dumb, fucked out, and crying over my dick.”

The strangest, most non-existent sex sound leaves her mouth when he uses one of those big ass hands of his to cup both her breasts together in a way that has her head craned back, laid on his shoulder.

Mouth ajar from the erotic of it all, he steals a kiss, dropping her heavy breast to angle her head so he can claim her mouth the same way he’s claimed her body. It’s uncomfortable in a sense, the contortionist approved position he’s finessed her into, but it’s a position that has her feeling pleasure in every inch and orifice of her body.

It’s a nasty, spit swapping, tongue dancing kiss that has her body on fire, her orgasm pushing closer and closer to the surface. And, he knows it. It’s why he, in what feels like mere seconds, has ditched the rose and their current position for something else.

His favorite.

“Shit, Roman.” It takes a godly amount of self-control for her to be mindful of her volume as he rocks into her with his massive dick. “Yes, baby, fuck me. Just like that. Oh.” On all fours, her ass tooted up and back arched perfectly—just how he likes—she struggles to keep from screaming, alerting the whole damn building just how good he’s fucking her.

Roman’s hands dig into her hips, likely to leave some sort of marking or bruise come morning. Not that she cares. It won’t be the first time.

She bites down hard on her bottom lip when his hand comes down on her ass. “Like that, sweetheart?”

All she can do is nod furiously, tears spilling over from how he drives into her, heavy balls slapping against her ass, her wetness smeared and leaking all over him and her. It’s almost concerning how wet he makes her pussy. Sometimes without even having to touch her.

The man is dangerous.

She gasps when he fists her hair, yanking her head back to smash his lips onto her while his hips grind that equally dangerous dick into her tight ass cunt.

“Could play in this pussy all day,” he murmurs, Solana’s mouth dropping open against him, her will crumbling and body failing on her. It’s all too much.

“Please,” she sobs.

His scoff is cruel. So cruel. “Please what?”

Fuck him. “I–I need to—fuck—please let me come.” Solana is seeing white, blue, red, and every fucking color of the rainbow at this point. Any attempts to pry his hand off her hip, to slow down the almost animalistic way he’s fucking her is null and void.

His hips continue to snap into her, furthering her descent into insanity. “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” she cries, feeling it coming, feeling that overwhelming, inescapable sensation he wants to prolong. Wants to play God with, and in this moment, he might as well be God. Playing with her livelihood like the deity he looks like.

Roman makes a tsk tsk tsk sound, pulling her up so her back is pressed against his front as he continues to fuck up and into her. “You think you deserve it?” Yes. No. Maybe. Shit, she doesn’t know. She just knows she needs it. “You didn’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Begs. She begs, because at this point, she’ll do whatever it takes to end this. It’s perfect and wonderful and every other great adjective, but she needs this release. “I’m sorry—”

Solana groans quietly when he moves one hand to her breast, squeezing. “Sorry, what?”

He slams into her with a brutally delicious thrust, perfectly hitting her G-spot. “Shit,” she pants, desperately grasping at his muscled forearm. “I’m sorry, papi.”

Roman’s hum of approval is the best thing she’s heard in some time. If ever. “Good girl.” Her cunt flutters around his impossible girth. “Now come for papi.”

Solana groans, hating and loving the way he controls her. Controls her body. Controls her orgasm as she comes, almost on command. It arrives, smashing and crashing into her, her entire body is shaking, trembling, damn near convulsing.

Roman kisses her, tongue and all, only breaking said kiss to continue to talk his shit, continuing to taunt and mock her as his dick drives her to sexual delirium.

All the while he just praises her.

It’s enough to make her come all over again.

He comes shortly after, shooting and emptying every drop of his load into her puffy, swollen pussy.

It doesn’t bother her. Not the first time, and it most likely won’t be the last.

Solana is studious and borderline anal with tracking her cycle and ovulation dates. She’s all but mastered the art of having this fine ass man come inside of during “safe” periods and pulling out during those “risky” periods.

Shortly after both of them find orgasmic relief, she lays on top of him, completely spent, unable to move. The feel of him softening inside of her conjoined with lingering tremors from the aftermath of her unholy experience soothing almost.

Eventually, Roman does all the work, carefully untangling her body from his while expertly removing the soaked towel so she’s laying on the sheets that are only partially damp from their…..activities.

I need to just subscribe and save sheets at this point.

Still trying to reel her senses back in after all five being fucked out of her, she’s somewhat paying attention when he gets up from the bed and walks into her bathroom. Solana partially blocks out the next few minutes, already knowing what to expect. Roman, ever the gentleman after spewing absolute filth and flipping her every which way, returns with a towel to clean her up after cleaning himself first. He tosses said towels into the hamper in her bathroom before climbing back into her bed that’s much too small for the monolithic man that he is. But, they make it work.

And, then there comes one of her favorite parts. The way he pulls her body into his, kissing her forehead, his finger trailing down her bare arm.

Solana snuggles close to him. For a man made of nothing but hard, rippling muscles, he’s so comfortable.

“If I’m late for work tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

It wouldn’t be the first time late night, bomb ass, life-changing sex/dick would have her pushing for time. To be fair, she’s never actually been late for work, just right around the corner from it. Still, much too close for her liking.

Roman chuckles. “I’ll compensate you.”

Solana snorts, her hand to his chest, tracing his tattoos. “That’s the problem. You compensate me too much.”

Honestly. For someone who’s never been a very sexual person, this man and his girthy nine inches have changed all that in a matter of a little over a month.

Magic.

He’s fucking magic.

He’s also raw. Roman’s hand behind her back slips to her ass, giving a light squeeze. “Can’t help it. That pussy is fucking addictive.”

Slapping his arm, Solana hides her smile and blush in the safe confines of his strong chest. “Shut up.” His quiet laughter fills the room, dark, only illuminated by the dim lamp she has sitting on her nightstand.

Her eyes shut, exhaustion from all that fucking catching up to her.

“You almost woke her up again.”

Solana peers up at him. That’s certainly the last thing she expected to hear him say, though it’s fair given the ‘again.’

“I’m not trying to,” she murmurs. “It’s….hard.”

Very much so. Hence why he’s right for using the word again to end his sentence. Soraya has already woken up once during her mother’s…..adult time, though a part of Solana wonders just how much it was the noise that disturbed her baby girl and more Raya just being a baby who randomly woke up in the middle of the night.

But, then there’s also the noise complaint she got from one of her neighbors, and that…..that Solana can’t justify.

“I’ll try to be more quiet,” she agrees. A difficult task, for sure, but an important one, nonetheless.

He’s quiet at first. “Her room is so close to yours here,” he says, Solana partially unsure how to respond to that. It’s not like she can change the size of her apartment. “The guest room at my place is down the hall from my room….”

She looks up, still unsure just where he’s going. “Okay….”

He shrugs, continuing to trail his finger down her arm. “I already have the furniture….”

Solana stills.

Oh.

A nervous bundle settles in her stomach. “Roman—”

“I’m not asking you to move in.” This time. He’s not asking this time. “I’m just saying it’d probably be easier for us to have sex at my place, because it’s bigger, and we don’t have to worry about the noise disturbing her or your annoying ass neighbors.”

She starts to protest the description of her neighbors as annoying but ultimately decides against it. Not relevant. Not relevant at all.

“Roman, we mostly have sex at night….”

“Exactly,” he agrees, moving his hand to her face, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “And, if you let me set up the room for her, then you can just spend the night.”

“Roman—”

“Just think about it,” he interrupts, already knowing her initial answer is no.

Maybe.

Because Solana can acknowledge that there’s most definitely a difference between moving in together and the occasional sleepover. One is commitment. One is ease.

Still, thinking about it feels like the best option in this moment. “Okay,” she agrees, laying back down against his chest. “I will.”

“Good,” he sounds, hand over hers. Solana closes her eyes once more, ready and willing to come succumb to any sleep she can get in the few hours before she has to be up and ready to tackle yet another long ass day. “Can I ask you something?”

Solana sighs. She’s so tired. Normally, pillow talk is great, but given she works both jobs and has school tomorrow, she’d much prefer to try to get some sleep. Still, talking with Roman is never something she regrets, so….small sacrifices.

“Sure,” she finally answers.

More hesitation as he grabs her hand, thumb tracing the scar on her palm. “At the get-together earlier, the whole social media thing….what was that about?”

Solana stills, and she hates that her body is pressed against his, because he has to feel it. Has to know what it means. Regardless, she does her best to play it off.

“I just….I’m very protective of Raya. I don’t want my or her face online. Too many weirdos out there.”

One in particular.

“I get that,” he responds, his voice on the edge of something else. Suspicion. “But, your reaction was…..you seemed nervous.”

“I mean, I was nervous. I was meeting your friends and family—”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“I want you to come to Raya’s birthday party.”

It’s not exactly how she planned to ask, well, tell him now, nor can she deny it’s an intentional detour for avoidance. But, a truthful thing nonetheless.

They’re both looking at each other, so she can see the surprise shift into his pretty brown eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replies. Solana moves her hand up his chest. “I mean, I’ve met your close friends and family. Feels like it’s only right and time you meet mine.” A truthful thing. Only a little over a month into meeting and knowing, dating, Solana feels ready to take that next step of having him at least meet the people closest to her.

Adding with a small smile, she points out, “plus, I feel like Raya would want you there anyway.”

That’s a given. If there’s one thing Solana knows for certain and can’t deny, it’s that Raya adores her some Roman.

And, if she allows herself to be really honest…..it sometimes feels like Roman feels the same way about Raya.

“If you can, of course.” Because Solana knows despite how flexible he can be with their meet-ups and dates, he’s still a businessman. A busy businessman. “If you can’t, that’s fi—”

“I’ll be there,” he interrupts, his voice firm. Something tells her come hell or high water, he’ll make it.

“Good,” she murmurs. Solana leans up to kiss him, smiling into said kiss, their lips lingering on each other before she lays her head back down on top of him. “Goodnight, Roman.”

There’s no hesitation this time as he kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight, Solana.”

Solana releases a sigh of content, pleased to allow sleep to capture her, but while she rests peacefully on top of the man who comes to mean more and more to her as the days past, Roman is restless.

He’s not stupid.

He knows damn well Solana was trying to change the subject.

Just like he knows she’s hiding something. Roman takes her hand, gently brushing over the scar that mars her palm. He thinks back to the background check he had Paul run on her. Nothing came out of it. Girl’s record was as clean as could be.

The only thing, however, he now wonders about was her brief move to California a few years back. She was only there for a couple of months before moving back to Florida. He’d always figured it was because she was homesick or just found it to not be what she was hoping or expecting.

Now….

Now, he’s wondering if it was more.

If there’s a story there. A story she seems determined to keep to herself.

It has him torn. Roman is a man who likes to know things. All the things. He hates being out of the loop with shit, but even more, he hates being lied to.

Period.

Granted, it’s hard for him to be upset with her, and he’s not, but he does wish she would feel comfortable enough to tell him whatever it is she’s hiding.

And, then he’s reminded that if he wants her to be honest with him, then he needs to be honest with her, and truth be told, Roman isn’t ready for that.

He’s not ready for that fallout.

Not ready to lose her.

Or Raya.

He’ll tell her. He knows he has to, but in due time. When he can explain the why to her in a way that won’t feel as jarring.

As unforgiveable.

Until then, he’ll enjoy the now.

--------

welp. this is bound to end well, right?

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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zoe-oneesama · 1 year ago

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Why does the fandom think Nathalie cares about Adrien? She's always all monotone indifference and "this is what your father says/wants". Yet the fandom likes leaving Adrien in her care post-hawkmoth sometimes? If you're really gonna read into things like that let's praise the one adult who DOES care about him- his bodyguard! Remember how the mere sight of him was enough to calm him down enough to thwart Hawkmoth's intentions in the gigantitan episode?

But no seriously I'm so bad at noticing these things- why do people think she cares about more than Gabriel?

Welp, she is the reason Gabriel let Adrien go to school according to Origins Part 2, and then we got the Great Hiatus to let that one tiny moment of feelings sit and fester in the fandom brain.

And Season 5 definitely did it's hardest to frame Nathalie as Here For Adrien, so it's like the whole series is bookended by That version of Nathalie.

But I get the confusion, Nathalie's been all over the damn place. Different Seasons characterize her almost like adjacent sister versions of herself? Like not a TOTALLY different person, but different enough that I'm worried about body snatchers lol. I pretty much compartmentalize Nathalie according to the season:

Season 1 - Belligerent Assistant who's job description does not and should not include taking care of her boss's son yet here she freaking is.

Season 2 - Reveal that she's totally In-The-Know, her indifference has reached knew levels of being just outright negligent, she is officially culpable.

Season 3 - Team Rocket era where she is fully into the evil dramatics. Also the gross fun addition of her officially being In Love™️with her boss and being angsty about it despite her bringing it upon herself. Also girl he's so crusty get some standards.

Season 4 - Bedridden bionic woman. Was it worth it? WAS IT WORTH IT?!

Season 5 - Pissed off divorcee era. She is actively picking fights and weaponizing the children at her not-ex, and while I'm side eyeing the last 4 seasons, I am here for this level of sass while she scoffs at Gabriel being his Worst Self™️. Too bad about the whole Dying thing but hey. You gotta make up for...all of that other stuff, right?

She's just kinda doomed to not be a cohesive character. I do like her heel turn in Season 5, especially because she was RIGHT, Gabriel had THE OPPORTUNITY to save not only Emilie but also Nathalie and threw it away because he wants to throw hands with teenagers. I too would walk away after that spectacular display of failure. I kinda wish she had someone to talk to, like even Duusu, just to explain that the only reason she hasn't exposed Gabriel altogether is because he'd definitely expose her as well and then Adrien'd be left alone. Like it's easy to infer that, but in a kids show, stuff like motivations kinda need to be laid out neatly.

Cuz otherwise it leaves it open ended - is she covering to spare Adrien from being essentially orphaned, or is she covering to save her own ass? After the 5ish versions of her, either interpretation is fair.

#nathalie salt #writing salt #ml salt

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ladythornofrivia · 1 month ago

Text

SWEET DARKNESS (part one)

Bucky Barnes x Sweet Neighbor!Reader

summary: moving at the townhouse, bucky barnes decided to start a new life, meeting you, an innocent, sweet neighbor—friendly and kind, but kept a dark secret, unknowingly Bucky is watching her also, swears to protect her at all costs.

cws: smut, stalking, p in v sex, spying, sneaking, 18+ MDNI, grumpy x sunshine, lust at first sight, strangers to lovers, toxic ex-boyfriend, sex during sickness, abuse, near suicide, bucky being feral, obsessive, eating disorder, auditory hallucinations from reader’s dark past, violence and blood. 18+ MDNI

a/n: hi! i’m writing something a little bit different this time. it figures that i love writing modern romance, especially with modern!aemond x reader. this will only be a one-shot, but who knows, i’ll make more one-shots in the future.

Boxes has increased as the truck parked onto the side of the road, trunk unlocked as Bucky stood by, anticipating.

Heavy boxes.

And hefty ceramic materials in the kitchen and for living room.

He should’ve carried light. The lighter he packs, the travel won’t be as a hassle. Steve Rogers, his one and only best friend moved away, moved to God knows where. As for the rest, they stayed in touch. Bucky as well, but not as close as he is to Steve. Two months of moving on, and seven months to complete and redecorate his new room at the high rise apartment.

Thank god he’s not a decorator or designer. He didn’t have time for those when he was working as a bodyguard. More like a body shield for the team he worked at. From the sounds of shots and explosions, he lived for it his whole life, dealing with noises, was something he’s quite used to. No different whether there’s a gunshot or canon, it doesn’t matter.

He has lived that life and finally puts an end to it. Almost everything.

Though one thing he forgot was the groceries. Bucky never wanted to go, but he gone to a supermarket nevertheless.

At the supermarket, almost as big as Walmart, everything’s more affordable.

Mentally taking a note on what to purchase, Bucky entered the market, grabbing a green grocery basket and roamed around the sections and aisles to gather the ingredients for tonight’s dinner—and snack. Loads of twinkies and chips—something he craved for a while he’s on important, life-risk missions.

Bucky wondered if Steve ever tried to eat foods that hadn’t existed back then. He’s probably occupying himself on boxing and going to a gym—keeping himself in shape, slacking wasn’t an option for Steve. Or any of the Avengers.

Wherever they are now, Bucky’s sure they’re doing fine and dandy. But he knows that they’ll meet again, if there’s a greater threat than Thanos and his infinity stones. With Tony Stark gone, everything has set back into place. No more sadness, no more grief, but it continued.

Bucky hated these things were set in motion. Hence why he moved to a semi-desolated side of the town.

He needed something quiet to recollect and look back on his days. Surviving from hell to hell, and trapped—mind-controlled abyss after abyss.

He want none of it.

Entering the grocery store, he grabbed the grocery stroller and grabbed the first essentials to his strict diet. Vegetables and yogurt. And potent eggs in a carton box. Next was the almond milk, pancakes, and cheese.

By the time he went to the fruit section, he bought apples and nectarines, only a single pair of nectarine dropped and rolled over across the room.

A feminine hand hovered and seized the fruit, his eyes trailed onto you, clad in a butter-yellow sundress and a simple jewelry on your sleeved wrist, watched as you handed over the fruit to him.

“You dropped this,” you said in a quiet manner, almost glancing away with your shy eyes and bright smile.

“Oh!” Bucky snapped himself to reality, reaching the fruit. “Thanks.”

You shook your head. “Don’t mention it. Nectarines tasted really nice this season.”

Given him a bright smile again.

Bucky scoffed. “Guess I’ll have to try.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” a man’s voice hissed beside you.

“I was getting fruits,” you explained, cowered in fear.

“Hurry the fuck up,” he hissed sharper. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Your eyes darted to Bucky’s, who was standing, unfazed by your boyfriend’s words, but gave a slight apologetic, sympathetic eyes on your way, before you answered with, “I’m coming.”

“Go,” your boyfriend demanded.

Hence, you went ahead first, without giving a proper introduction.

But Bucky’s eyes never left, pierced at the back of your head, while your boyfriend gave a good scolding.

+++

Cooking wasn’t his strongest suit. He burnt another piece of bacon and eggs for the third time that he wasn’t surprised about the alarm didn’t go off. Making breakfast was the easiest but making lunch and dinner was hard, and he’s making lunch. He’d rather eat a takeout food than cook. After all he just moved in.

The noise ruptured, his hands slipped from holding the pan and it banged on the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered and cleaned up his mess.

The noise erupted once again. And he heard from the right side of the wall. He pressed his ear in, and caught it all. He heard whips, lashes, and slaps and whimpering cries on the other side of the thinnest wall.

“Please, stop,” you begged.

He could recognize your voice—vastly different from the supermarket. Bucky heard another voice.

“Shut the fuck up, and do as you’re told,” your boyfriend, Andrew said, choking you. “Why you are being such a fucking idiot?”

“I’ll be good,” you promised. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”

“You better mean it, you stupid bitch,” your boyfriend growled and tossed you at the wall where Sebastian was leaning to eavesdrop at. Sebastian backed away when a booming sound pounded.

Almost as if he had forgotten the mess to clean up from his kitchen.

+++

As Bucky had gotten out to do his laundry, he stumbled upon you, with a laundry basket in hands, given him a brief smile and walked away to put the dirty laundry inside the washing machine, putting 2 cents in, and a powdered detergent and a liquid softener, watching the washing machine whirred in motion.

Sebastian did the same.

Not long after, the silence was deafening. Sebastian wasn’t good at connections with new people, ever since the incident with him being mind-controlled, he couldn’t recognize himself anymore. He used to be friendly and approachable, like he was with Steve. But that was then, this is now. The new version of Sebastian was struggling to make new adjustments in a mundane life.

After moments of silence, he approached you.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

You stuttered. “What makes you say that, sir?”

He scratched his head. “I heard a noise yesterday. I was wondering if anything’s okay with you.”

“Oh, um, it was the television. Sorry, I should’ve lower the volume down. We have these speakers that are booming.”

He nodded along, but he wasn’t buying it. He heard your voice and your boyfriend’s. Bucky doubted about the booming speakers for the television.

“Ah, I see,” is all he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Silence prolonged.

“Are you sure everything’s okay? Nothing going on?”

You inspected to see if your boyfriend was there.

“Everything’s fine,” you said, standing up for a stretch, but you winced each time your limbs extended up in the air.

Bucky studied you. And spotted a purple bruise on your abdomen.

Yup, you’ve gotten beaten, alright.

“I made some lunch. We can hang out,” he said. Then he veered behind him, wondering when the boyfriend will show up.

“If that’s alright, with you,” he added, scratching his stubble on the side of his face.

You said no confirmation.

Bucky tried again.

“When will he be back?”

Your head shaken. “At night. Yesterday was his day off.”

“Then, would you like to join me for lunch while we wait for our laundry?”

At last, you gave in.

+++

The background noise was set from his television as you ate lunch with him, but you weren’t feeling hungry.

Bucky shoved a sliced piece in his mouth, quieting his empty stomach as he watched you. You weren’t eating lunch with him? Is his cooking skills suck?

“What’s wrong?” he began, drinking his carbonated soda.

You shook your head. “Nothing. Sorry, I was just…”

He shook his head, anticipating for you to continue. “Just?”

“I was wondering if this is…all…real.”

His brow quirked. “Real? Of course my cooking is real.”

You shook your head. “No, I meant…if anyone’s kindness is real. Aside the food offer.”

He finally understood what you meant. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at his word.

Sweetheart.

“Thank you, for giving me your other half of your cooking,” you said before eating, cutting the meat into smaller bits before tasting it into your mouth, and your heart melted. The meat was perfectly cooked, juicy and tender.

“I take it that you enjoy my cooking, huh?”

Shyly, you nodded, before munching it with the smaller bits.

As you were struggling to make the larger pieces cut, Bucky wondered why you won’t eat in a proper fashion.

Probably have something to do with that “boy toy” of hers.

“When did you move here?” you asked.

“Yesterday,” he said. “I still got some stuff to do to decorate the place, and it might take a while for me to adjust.”

“How come?”

“I….moved around a lot,” he said. “But I’ll be finding a job soon.”

Bucky was not great at lying, but he had to. After all, being a superhuman wasn’t the best thing to say to someone innocent like you. You might not understand and be frightened of him. Somewhere inside him hoped you knew the Avengers. But then again, that was then. This is now. The world might forget, but he won’t.

He hadn’t been able to contact others, not even The Falcon, since he was busying adjusting in his new life. The Falcon reminded him that a hero never rests, once joined at the superhero squad. The rested hero always finds its way to its original roots. As much as Bucky hated the idea of his space getting squished in the car or inside the hovercraft with The Falcon during the missions, somehow the falcon is right. The superheroes can’t stay in the dark and dimmed its power forever.

He has to tell you at some point.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice snapped his thoughts out.

He spotted your concerned face, waiting for him to speak.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, sipping his drink. “Sorry, I’m not making at good conversations like this.”

“You were trying your best,” you reminded him.

He chuckled. “Same goes to you.”

Smiles a bit. “Trust me, it’s been that long since I’ve had a friend.”

“A friend?”

“My boyfriend, he….he’s been part of my life ever since. And since then, everyone has gotten so busy I almost forgot what’s like to have one friend,” you said. “And this might be the longest sentence I’ve ever said for the first time in…forever.”

Bucky set his silverware down. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there.”

“I will?” your wondrous eyes darted to his.

“You will,” he said, before taken both plates and silverware to wash. But with his metal arm, he can hide it from you. He doesn’t want you to his metal hand, either.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“No, it’s okay. I got this. Just sit…there.”

After moments were busied in silence, he finished washing the plates and cooking utensils, only to see the furniture placed and the picture frames adjusted. Even if it wasn’t what he had in mind, he liked the aesthetic structure you laid out, not before long, you pushed his other sofa against the wall on right. When he approached you in a closer position, he stopped midway and take a deep breath in.

Underneath your flowing skirt, he spotted your pink thongs poking out as you bent your body forward.

Frilly and lace.

Being respectful as he was trying to be, he came up behind you, saying, “I got this, sweetheart,” and shoved the sofa himself with ease.

You looked at him in shocked, impressed, more like. As expected from a burly man like him.

“That was quick,” you said.

“Yeah, I went to the gym a lot,” he said, lying again. “No big deal.”

“That was pretty impressive.”

He smirked at your innocence.

“Guess the gym paid off well. I could see you decorated my walls, too.”

“Yeah, the picture frames in a box sort of bothered me, so I put them up. I hope you don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. So, you wanna stay here and we can watch a movie?”

Checking her watch, she said, “Yeah, we’ll watch a movie.”

As they watched a movie they installed, a scene came up, between a groom and a wife’s argument, leading up to a disaster. Bucky looked at you, and you were squirming in your seat, soothing her arms, not eyeing the screen. He switched the movie into another channel for a comedy film. And your eyes perked up at the screen, watching and giggling.

You had a lovely giggle. Maybe something your “loving” boyfriend doesn’t appreciate.

Bucky thoughtful your lovely giggles turned into a lovely screams in bed—

No, stop. She has a boyfriend. If I catch feelings for her, I might stir up trouble. But then again, she’s already here with me; I invited her in. And she was having a good time since God knows when. Best not to ruin it now.

+++

Not before long, they’ve set the laundry into the dryer, another hour countdown as they gotten back in and watched another movie.

And Bucky’s been thinking about your lacy thongs, stirring up in his cock. He settled it before you notice his hardened cock in his pants.

As for your situation, you don’t know what to do. You needed someone, a friend to rely on for a joyous company. But you haven’t had anyone in years. Your boyfriend made you severe ties to anyone who isn’t him. Now that the your neighbor is being friendly with you, you haven’t felt good in a long time.

+++

The night has set in, and you said your goodbyes to him.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you said. “And thank you for the meal. It’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, gathering his fresh laundry out from the dryer. “I should get going.”

“I didn’t get your name…”

He faced at you. “Name’s Bucky.”

Then you said your name.

He nodded. “We’ll meet again soon.” And he left.

As he closed his own door, his heart pounded. Knowing that her boyfriend will return at night, Bucky wouldn’t stop thinking about you. That sweet, innocent smile of yours has sent him to a spiral.

And he has doomed himself.

Not that he minded.

Despite your boyfriend’s presence will be around, Bucky might be the hero, a companion you needed. You were isolated, and how you spoke in cryptic during a lunch meal sets a melancholy motion inside him.

When you walked out from a laundry room, he spotted a dark bruises on your neck, front and back from your veiling hair.

He has to protect you, even if it means it’ll cost everything.

War or not, this is no different from his enemies.

His will is now destined, and is destined to be as your protector.

Taglist: @emeraldrhee-grimes @galactict3a @lionneee @lcolumbia1988 @viktoriaashleyyx @sweetstrawberrianne @onyxblackwinchester @f1girlieee @screaming-potato @bellaisasleep @dixie-elocin @starzz-l0ver @jmliebert

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red-garden · 4 months ago

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Dad jiu AU where Shen jiu molds/trains Binghe into being Shen Yuans bodyguard/protector.

But SJ and LBHs relationship is similar to the one pearl had when she first began training Connie.

If you haven't watch Steven universe basically when Pearl first began training Connie to sword fight she made Connie believe that she was only built to live for steven. To risk her life for steven no matter what. Essentially made Connie believe her life didn't matter unless she devoted herself fully to protecting steven. Which was the relationship pearl had with Rose quartz. Even when Pearl's relationship was unhealthy with rose because Rose kept on leaving Pearl for other people, Pearl stayed because what was she made for if not protecting Rose?

Every time he talks about Binghe living for Shen Yuan, he references his own devotion for Yue Qingyuan.

Anyways instead of making a perfect body guard for Shen Yuan, instead Shen Jiu just promotes all the unhealthy things that make Bingyuan. Making Binghe believe that he is a failure if SY disapproves of him/he can't protect SY.

And it's not like SJs training was purposely abusive. Infact he had good intentions he wanted someone to protect his son. But it just ended up being abusive because of SJs own traumas accidentally projecting onto Binghe.

Now listen to the song "Do it for her" since it's about this.

Beloved mutual I have binged Steven Universe at least three times and let me tell you: I have been waiting for this.

EXTRA LAYER:

Let’s have SY be a magic baby that was conceived with a bit of YQY’s dna SJ pilfered. Because I can’t bear to make them too sad, YQY is still alive and everything, but SJ is 100% sure he can’t have him and his son is the only way to hold on to a little piece of YQY.(extra Pearl flavor)

EXTRA EXTRA LAYER:

Bc of SY being conceived with magic, he’s technically a kind of demon. Yada yada Bingles and Yuan can fuse Stevoni style. And SJ, who can’t help but see SY as a little bit YQY 2, freaks the fuck out because THAT BEAST HAS THE NERVE. (He wants so bad to be able to fuse w YQY and be so close they couldn’t be cleanly separated into 2 people)

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA LAYER:

The sword SJ trains LBH to wield is Xuan Su. Idk how it would work but the parallel to Rose’s sword is simply too good

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motthe · 7 months ago

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OKAY- idk if requesting twice is okay or not- but if you have the time! Can we see more Mel and reader (lumen au or otherwise)? Where reader has what is essentially Amara’s job but more so a bodyguard type? Mel helped them out at one point and now they protect her and help her with whatever she needs! (Like finding a gift for Jayce or Passive aggressively spitting her mother) and she does the same for them with viktor and egotistical higher ups? Basically just them being each others solace, confidant that knows of the others past while helping them get to the future they deserve with Jayce x Mel & Viktor x reader sprinkled in, (first meetings, first signs of affection, etc) for all parties!

(can be ignored if your busy or otherwise dw ;3)

I hope you enjoyed this!!! I took some creative liberties and placed this in S1 arc 1 :)

warnings: gn!reader, mention of scars and sleep problems, non-sexual nakedness (you’ll get it when you read lol)

Mel rose from her desk, the wide reaching window behind her dark. There were always a few days out of the week she would stay late. She never left anything half-finished and if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t finished.

“Fancy a stroll through the Academy?”

You repositioned yourself from leaning against the wall, raising an eyebrow. The woman approaching you was an esteemed council member and a child of Noxus. Above all that, she held a dangerously sharp mind.

With you, a trained guard from birth and accepted by her bitch of a mother, you two made quite the confidants.

“Why?” you asked, knowing you were going whether you fancied the idea or not. Where she went, you went.

“Why not?” Her grin was infectious, but you saw the mischief swimming in her eyes.

“It’s far past lockup, for one,” you began, grabbing the door for her. Your belt clicked with the movement, the weight of your gun and knives shifting. “We also have no business with the Academy.”

“We may not, but I have a feeling someone does.”

You hummed, your steps shadowing hers for every beat. Every turn down a hall, your eyes were skating for anything amiss. “This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain expelled scientist, would it?”

She hummed, smiling and confident from where you walked adjacent.

That poor man, you couldn’t help but think. Catch Mel’s eye and you’re stuck under a microscope until she loses interest.

“Maybe Heimerdinger has stayed late with that assistant of his,” she said, gaze cutting to you. Your eyes narrowed in warning.

You changed the subject. “What makes you think that Talis fellow would sneak into the Academy the night of his expulsion?”

“His things are to be destroyed tomorrow morning.”

“If we get all the way to the Academy and you’re wrong—” you complained.

“A trip to your favorite spa, paid.” She stopped, tilting her head towards you. “And if I’m right?”

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll pose for that painting.”

She pursed her lips, flexing her fingers.

You crossed your arms and bit out, “No.”

“It’s nude or nothing, darling,” she teased. “I need the practice.”

“You need nothing,” you scoffed, continuing in front of her to check the entrance to the council’s building. The usual enforcer’s we’re making their rounds, tipping their hats to you.

Mel stepped out next to you, shoulder nudging yours. Your sigh trailed into the night air.

“Fine.”

Her golden freckles crinkled with the grin that pulled at her lips.

“Did you bring a flashlight?” Mel asked quietly. You gave her the flattest expression known to man in response. “May I borrow it, please?”

“No, you may not,” you answered. Even in the dark you sensed her scowl as you passed, taking up the front. “If I need to shoot someone, I need to see.”

“So violent,” she murmured. “Honestly, he doesn’t seem the type.”

“Then he’d make the perfect assassin,” you chuckled, lowering your voice as you opened the door to the staircase. “Besides, we want to go undetected, don’t we?”

“If no trouble is afoot, then I wouldn’t mind a second look at this research,” she revealed, only adding to a long night ahead.

“What are you expecting to find?”

She chuckled. “I do love a good surprise.”

You scoffed quietly as you climbed the steps ahead of her. “You would, miss know-it-all.”

Reaching the floor that held Heimerdinger’s office, you glanced through the window on the door before slipping it open. Mel kept her steps light as you both moved through the darkness. As you crept on, you noticed a faint glow reaching around the corner and glanced at Mel, scowling.

She wore the look of a winner in the blue-tinted of the moonlight shining through the distant window. Slowly, she mouthed the word ‘nude’.

You shook your head, pulling your flashlight out as you motioned her to follow you. The tinkling of keys and the gears of a lock turning left you with one hand on your gun and the other pointing the flashlight forward. You held off on spotlighting the infiltrator when you noticed two figures sneaking around Heimerdinger’s door.

“So far so good,” came a familiar ethnolect. You clicked the flashlight on to confirm your suspicions.

Oh, shit.

Jayce Talis and Viktor, of all people, were caught red handed, hands guarding their eyes as they were overwhelmed by the brilliance.

“Willing to risk exile for your endeavor,” Mel spoke, taking up the space on your right as she stared the two men down. “That’s quite the conviction.”

“A counselor,” Talis breathed.

Viktor chose another path, turning towards the door in a dramatized show of confusion. “Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom…”

“Guess those aren’t your keys either?” you hummed, moving your hand off your weapon as he looked up at you.

“Actually, they are permitted to be in my possession,” he corrected as he stood from his crouch.

“Just like you’re permitted to be here, past lockup,” your eyes fled towards Talis before focusing his pinched gaze “with a freshly expelled student.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “that one, not so much.”

“Please,” Mr. Talis begged, stepping in front of Viktor, eyes locked on Mel. You positioned yourself between them, hand back on your gun as you pointed the flashlight towards the man. He winced, only passing you a slight flare in retaliation. “We can prove that it works.”

“You couldn’t do so earlier today,” Mel pointed out, expression deadened and feigning disinterest. Seen you had two actors in your midst. “How is tonight any different?”

“We figured out how to stabilize it,” Viktor explained.

“I’m surprised to find the professor's assistant mixed up in this,” she murmured to you.

“No, he’s my new partner,” Talis argued, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. Your stomach tightened.

“Even if you managed to prove your theory the council would destroy it.” Mel burst their bubble with brutal honesty.

“Heimerdinger will recognize the potential,” Viktor stated.

“He already does,” she told him, “it scares him. It scares them all.”

“What about you?” Talis asked, determined.

“I recognize that any worthwhile venture involves risk…”

Your head turned a second before theirs, picking up on the whistling and footsteps. The night guard was heading this way. Harold. He was always the noisiest, sweetest thing. The old man refused to retire so they put him up here at the Academy.

“There’s your risk,” you muttered.

“Counselor,” hissed Talis, “this technology, it’s real and no matter what happens here it’s going to change our world. We should be the ones to lead it—Piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. I know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us. Please, just give us a chance!”

You stepped back beside Mel, meeting her eyes. She let the two men sweat a bit as the footsteps grew closer.

“One night. Gentleman,” she said slowly, turning to leave. “Impress me or I’d suggest you pack your bags.”

As she walked away, you noticed the awed look in Talis’ eyes and nearly groaned. She always had to draw in the big dreamers.

You threw Viktor a sly smile, handing him the flashlight seeing as that poor pen light wasn’t going to be much help. “Good luck, Goggles.”

You switched it off as he accepted it, fingers brushing as you left them to hide in the darkness. You caught up with your principal just as she was moving around the corner.

“Harold!” she sang, nearly sending the sweet old man into a heart attack. You held back a laugh as Me” moved him back down the hall and away from the chaotic scientists behind you.

Left to their own devices, Viktor clicked on your flashlight and got back to opening the five-bolt door. As he crouched back down, Jayce took over holding the light for him.

“So,” he murmured, back to the silence of an empty school, “you and the bodyguard are a thing?”

Viktor nearly dropped the keys. “Excuse me?”

“Goggles?”

“It is a long story,” he whispered, pushing the door open as the last lock unlatched, “and we are not the ‘thing.’ Now get in.”

“We’re to return before dawn.”

You turned from toweling your hair to stare down Mel in her bubble bath. She hasn’t bothered to wait until you were done in your own bathroom to fetch you. She wasn’t usually so clingy, but you knew under that cool facade she was nervous of what was to come with the scientists.

“Why do we have to lose precious sleep over this?” you grumbled, grabbing your toothbrush.

“You?” she laughed, splashing her water over her knees. “You barely sleep as is.”

“Yeah, well,” you spit the mess of toothpaste and spit from your mouth, “blame your mother for that.”

“I blame her for many things.”

The scars over your body burned, but not from sticky, humid air. You both were quiet for a time.

“I didn’t expect him to be there.” You turned around, pulling yourself up on the marble counter to look at her. “Viktor, I mean.”

“Guess he saw whatever you did in Talis.”

She puckered her lips at you, arms dropping over the rim of the bathtub as she laid her head on them. “Is that jealousy I hear, darling?”

“Shove it,” you scoffed, moving to do one last check of the place before heading to your room. “Also, he was definitely staring at you as you left.”

“Then you have no reason to worry.”

“Goodnight,” you bit out, shutting the bathroom door on her echoing giggles.

When you knock on Mel’s door she’s back in the same clothes she wore hours earlier. It’s an hour to dawn and barely takes three minutes to reach the Academy. You hadn’t slept a wink.

Offering her a coffee, you both finished them before you were out the door. The guards at the gate gave you groggy second glances, but questioned nothing.

You sensed the alarm in the empty halls, banging thundering through the stairwell as you both took one glance at the other and sped up your pace.

You held an arm out as you glanced around the dark corner, eyes widening at the new blue-tinted glow that shined from Heimerdinger’s office.

“You’ve actually done it…” The professor's voice was beyond astonishment. “But just because it can be done, doesn’t mean—will you please stop hovering?!”

“I’m not sure how to do that sir!”

Your mask nearly slipped. It was the first time you’d ever heard Viktor so…gleeful.

Mel stalked down the hall, eyes bright with purpose. It reminded you of younger days before she slowed her steps, bringing out Counselor Medarda

“This is not what Piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys!”

The click of her heels alerted everyone as she pushed through the guards, the light of the room washing over her form.

“That’s for the council to decide,” she stated, head turning from side to side as she observed the room. Being right behind her, you allowed awe to slip at the twinkling bits wandering the room and high above were those troublesome scientists. “Perhaps it’s time for the era of magic.”

“Uh, Hextech,” came Jayce Talis, hair sprawling out with the anti-gravity field he was caught up in. “For the era of Hextech.”

Your eyes slid from his to hers, the slender grin on her lips speaking more than praise in his direction. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help as they caught on Viktor who looked far too happy to be completely suspended upside down. He kept throwing little objects nearby towards the glistening orb at the center of the room, watching it with interest as it blipped from one side to the other.

Some round object hovered a bit too close on the opposite side he was facing. You couldn’t help but laugh when it was transported to his side, knocking into his forehead with enough force to make him jump.

Your voice alerted him, eyes finding yours as you cleared your throat and fixed your metaphorical mask back into place.

“How long will this last?” asked Mel.

The young men looked at each other for an answer that neither seemed to have. You eyed the bright orb between them, noticing it was slowly but surely shrinking in size.

“I suggest you find your way down before you find out,” Heimerdinger called.

“Right,” Jayce said, waving his arms until he was able to float to the ceiling. He pushed off it, getting about halfway down before gravity seemed to take hold again. He just missed a smaller table in the corner, landing with a painful grunt.

Heimerdinger tested the space first, his hair seemed to react a bit, but he was able to make his way towards his previously expelled student with ease. You wandered in next, feeling your hair lift from your scalp as the guards were waved away by Mel. She ordered them to fetch the other council members for an emergency meeting in a few hours time.

“The power source is growing smaller,” you warned Viktor who was still playing around with it near the roof.

“Yes, without the cranking its energy is used up,” he muttered, more to himself than you as another object flashes through it. It shrunk by at least an inch. “Still such raw power…”

The bits of light hovering around the space were closing in. Your hair returned to its natural state.

“Uh, Viktor,” Jayce called.

“How big can the object be?” the man hummed, tossing a book to the orb. You stood below him, eyeing where he’d fall. The dots connected just as the book went through and the blue light went out like a candle flame in the wind. Jayce yelled.

Your back connected with Heimerdinger’s desk, sending it scraping back in a chorus of something else moving just as gravity claimed Viktor. He knocked the air out of you as he landed on top of you. The ground shook as something else hit the ground nearby.

You winced as the office lights burst above, taking in a slow, groaning breath.

“Good heavens,” came Heimerdinger. “Are you three all right?”

Turning your head from the mess of Viktor’s hair in your vision, you saw Jayce lying face down on a tipped over chair with his hand fist glowing.

“Yeah,” he said into the ground, “just thought I’d catch the crystal before it took out another building.”

“My apologies,” Viktor murmured, expression twisted in discomfort as he pushed himself off your chest.

“S’fine,” you choked out, still catching your breath. “We’re all victims of physics.”

That broke the tension, or perhaps the adrenaline was still running high amongst the men because they both busted out into hysterics. Well, Jayce did. Viktor just chuckled and focused on getting his entire weight off of you.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the back of your head where it had clipped the damn desk.

“Did you hit it?”

You glanced at Viktor, dropping your hand. “I’m good, Goggles. Better than you would’ve been crashing into straight wood.”

“It’s pure oak!” preened Heimerdinger as he scuffled over, tapping the surface. “Very durable.”

“I’ll say,” you grumbled, feeling a headache coming on.

“You should get that checked. You might have a concussion,” Viktor said, resting his back against the bookshelf behind him. Jayce had finally gotten to his knees, looking a bit bruised as far as his ego went when he glanced at Mel by the door.

“I’ve seen them take a hammer to the head,” your principal chuckled. “They’ll be fine, I assure you.”

“It’s not bleeding,” Heimerdinger hummed. You balked at him peering around the desk. “How’s your eyesight?”

“Clear,” you said, getting to your feet. “Thank you, professor.”

Viktor remained on the ground.

“Are you all right?” you asked. “I’m not the softest landing.”

“I’m unharmed,” he answered, nodding behind you. “My cane, however, will need to be replaced.”

You followed his line of sight and frowned at the white stick, cracked in two.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Jayce promised as he walked over, offering a hand.

“I'll see you at the meeting,” Mel announced, eyes piercing the founder of Hextech before moving to his partner’s as he got to his feet. “Both of you.”

You moved the desk back into place, nodding to the professor as he thanked you.

Hearing your name, you turned as Viktor offered your flashlight.

“You dropped this,” he murmured, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

“I’m sure it’s broken after that fall,” you said, checking it. The light sputtered before going out.

“Allow me to fix it, then.”

You blinked at him, smiling at the back and forth before clearing your expression and handing it back. Your fingers brushed.

“Sure,” you said, following after Mel. “I’ll grab it another time.”

Out in the hall, she smirked at you, unabashed.

“You couldn’t have had the meeting in the afternoon?” you complained, rubbing your head.

“I have an appointment at the spa with a friend of mine,” she replied.

You sighed and kept your mouth shut, leading her out of the building and back home to freshen up again.

“You know I might need a second opinion when I’m painting you,” she hummed as you both eased into the early light of dawn. “Viktor wouldn’t happen to be a student of the arts as well, would he?”

“You’re lucky I’m the one protecting you and not the one after you,” you growled.

Back in Heimerdinger’s office, the men were helping clean up the mess they left behind while Heimerdinger lectured them, observing all the while from his chair.

“Didn’t know you did repair jobs,” muttered Jayce as he shoved a book back into its shelf.

Below him where Viktor was attempting to put the ‘cranker’ as it were back together, the man rolled his eyes. “I felt I owed it to them seeing as I failed to take care of it.”

“Right, of course.”

Viktor didn’t enjoy the amused silence seeping from his newly acclaimed business partner and slowly tilted his head to glare up at him. “Do you have something else to say?”

“Nope,” answered Jayce, eyebrows bouncing up, “nothing at all, Goggles.”

Viktor sighed. All it took was one day of brain fog and a run-in with you to earn him such a distasteful nickname. At least it taught him to check his goggles were off before leaving the lab from now on.

“No slacking!” said the professor, swiveling in his chair to shuffle the papers scattered around his desk. “Honestly, I’m not sure how Counselor Medarda’s guard moved this desk. I thought it was bolted to the floor!”

Viktor swallowed as Jayce whistled.

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