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mrsriddlenott · 14 hours ago

Text

~ BET ~

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader(kinda implied kook)

Warnings: Smut, Dry Humping, Thigh Riding, Edging, lil bit of Daddy Kink, d/s Dynamics, Creampie, Papa Jay. Kinda Proofread.

Please point out any mistakes

{masterlist}

————

JJ hadn’t even considered how difficult NNN would be, when the idea came up between him, John B, and Pope he thought it would be the easiest 40 bucks he had ever made. He didn’t need to finish to have fun, he could make you come undone with two fingers, easy. However, he gravely underestimated how much you needed him to be inside you, no matter how many times he had you cumming on his fingers and tongue in a day, he would still have to hold back through all of your begging that night.

JJ hadn’t noticed how much he spoiled you until now, he would have you underneath him or between him and a wall every day, sometimes twice if he could. And you had gotten used to that treatment. “But what about me Jay?” You pouted, looking up to him with those big, sad eyes when you came to the Chateau that night, and he knew he messed up. There was no way he was gonna make it because he didn’t realize he had you addicted to his cock until you were already fiending for it. All on account of his stupid bet.

And it just got harder from there.

Your lips grazed against the back of his neck, your hands feeling the tense muscles in his lower back as they danced across his skin, “Please Jay, I can’t wait, I want you now,” JJ held back a groan, his eyes fluttering shut when your hands made there way around to his front, hidden under his shirt where your fingers traced down his happy trail, testing him and pushing him further. He felt himself twitch in his cargo shorts, hardening almost immediately as your scent surrounded him, the feeling of your soft fingers almost sending him over the edge.

“It’s only day one Gorgeous, don’t test me.” He stated, his hands stopping yours when your fingers began playing with the button on his shorts as if they had a mind of their own. You groan behind him, retracting your arms and the warmth that came with them from around him, crossing them over your chest teasingly.

“You know I won’t tell them if you crack Jay, they would never know.” He sighed, head falling back before turning to watch you walk away from him, the sassy little swing in your hips almost making him jump at the offer. Almost.

But, his rejection sure as hell didn’t stop you from trying, if anything it egged you on further.

————

“What if I just sit on it Jay, I’ll warm you and when you’re about to cum I’ll get off Baby, I promise.” JJ chuckled at the desperate tone in your voice from below you, his head leant against the back of the couch displaying his Adam’s apple that bounced up and down every time your hips moved against him again. “Please Jay, I wanna feel you.”

“Nuh uh Princess, I know you can’t control yourself,” He laughed through a groan, the desperation of his voice making you speed up, proving him right. The friction building between you two becoming too much for him, your hips speeding up even more to chase the high he can’t have. He watches your chest rise and fall quicker as you drop your head into his shoulder, whining in his ear the closer you get to your release. You can feel him twitching against your clothed cunt every time you clench against nothing.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you through my underwear Jay?” His teeth dig into his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood, he’s testing himself now seeing how close he can get to the edge before he stops himself. Part of him just wants to let it happened, but he can’t lose in the first week, he would never hear the end of it, “Fuck Baby I am so sorry.” He groaned into your neck, tugging you up by your hips, moving to the side and aggressively pushing you down to reconnect with his thigh.

His large hands keep your rhythm when you falter, pushing you and tugging you against his thigh, pulling whines from your throat and making you twitch in his lap. Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging on it uncontrollably while the band in your abdomen tightens. Your slick coats his leg forcing him to bite into your shoulder to control himself, whining into your flesh every time your knee brushes his tip, edging himself even further. You stutter and gasp, twitching against his thigh and soaking his shorts, his hands slow with your hips speed. Your watery eyes looked to him and his dick strained against his zipper further.

“You’re taking this so seriously, if I wasn’t so pissed at you I’d actually be kind of proud,” Your voice was breathy and came out strained, your glossy eyes held onto his, the little pout you had making him twitch and groan.

“I’m pissed at myself too,” He sighed, letting his head fall back into the crook of your neck, “I’ll tell ya’ what, if JB breaks soon, I’ll let Pope win and then you can ride me all you want Mama.”

“Really?! For me?” You squeak, so excited you would be embarrassed if you weren’t with JJ, “Fuck you’re amazing you know that?” You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your fingers tangle into his hair again. Your soaked panties rubbing against his still hard cock, mixed with the sting your nails left at the base of skull forcing a whimper from his throat, and you know right then there is no way he is lasting the whole month.

————

“Cleo just texted me and Sarah, she broke Pope,” You giggled, typing away on your phone, his blue eyes watching you more intently than usual, just as they had been for the last ten days, “I kinda thought he would beat you both honestly.” You stated, tossing your phone beside you on the bed he made his before crawling over his thighs, his semi-hard cock already pressing against your entrance when you settle. He was so used to fucking you every night before you both slept in each other’s arms, that his body seemed to be prepared for it. Every time he looked at you recently he felt like he was about to bust, he was never doing this again. He decided he wouldn’t even be taking a trip without you ever again.

“Do you wanna fuck me now Jay?” Your breath fans across his ear and JJ bangs his head against the bed frame with a groan, your lips trail down the warm, salty skin on his neck stopping at the spot he loved the most and licking a stripe back up to his ear. You were desperate he could tell, and he absolutely loved it, and hated not being able to take care of it.

“Baby, you know I said if JB breaks….” He sighs into your skin, “Now I gotta win Princess, especially now that I know you thought I would lose.”

“Nooo, Jay, you can not imagine how horny I have been without you inside me,” you whined against the shell of his ear, exaggerating your neediness only a bit to try and get him to crack, “I won’t tell, not even Sarah.”

“Oh but Baby, that’s not winnin’,” He tsked, grabbing your cheeks, tugging your pouting face away and forcing eye contact, “If you wait I’ll use the bet money on anything you want.”

“I jus’ want you Daddy please.” You gripped his shoulders, thinking you knew exactly what the nickname would get you. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you began to rock your hips slightly, wanting him to finally give you what you want.

“Oh so that’s what you’re gon’ do huh?” His head tilted, slipping into his more dominant personality on instinct, his jaw twitching, his large hand gripping your hair in a flash, tugging it back and exposing your neck to him, “You can’t play that card and win Princess you know I’m in charge here.” He whispered into the flesh of your neck before his lips began their assault, sending a shiver down your spine and heating your abdomen even more than it had been.

“Do you want me to make it even worse for you Gorgeous,” he teased, “You can join me in this bet if that’s what you really want? I’ll bring you right up to the edge,” he whispered, his free hand slowly falling into your shorts to tease the hem of your underwear, “And then pull you right back with me.” He finished with a chuckle, snapping his hand out of your shorts, leaving you whining and wiggling against him.

“That’s no fair, you always make me cum, even when you’re mad.” You lean away from him and he lets you, resting you on his thighs before crossing your arms across your chest in the teasing way you know he likes. Shoving your breasts together right in his face, playing up the bratty attitude to get what you want.

“I make you cum when you’re good, and since you chose to pull out the Daddy card when you know damn well I can’t slip out of control until I finish,” He sighed between his words, eyes bouncing between your eyes and cleavage, controlling himself before he just fucks you right now, “Now you need to deal with his consequences.”

Your smile grows on your face, giggling at his words before you speak, “Okay, okay, I did do it on purpose but only because I need you so much.”

“Ah ah ah,” The teasing tone of his voice knocks your smile right off your face and you know you messed up, “I am dead serious, you’re stuck now Sweetness, you fucked up and now Papa Jay is gonna get what he wants. If you don’t act right I am gonna watch you beg for release every singe time I wanna fuckin’ cum until I can, do you understand me?”

Your eyebrows squeeze together, watching his face for a sign of hesitation, but the dominance stays. You whine as you wiggle your way off his legs to lat beside him, scowling at him before turning your back to him and laying down for bed. “If you change your mind in the middle of the night don’t hesitate to….wake me up, but only if you wanna fuck me awake.” You tease, wiggling your hips to poke out your pantie clad ass cheeks his direction.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that in the morning Gorgeous,” He laughed, slotting himself behind you in the dark, his arm pulling you into him and moaning in your ear at the feeling of your ass against his tightening boxers. You wiggled against him, pushing into him as he pushes back, his large hand splayed out on your lower abdomen tugging you impossibly closer. In one quick motion his leg locks against yours and his arms tighten around you, halting your movements as he speaks into your ear.

“Goodnight Baby, I love you so fucking much,” He growls into your ear, halting for a second to nip at your flesh before continuing, “and when I win this bet I am gonna give you the best dick of your life I promise you.” You whine again, desperately trying to run your thighs together for some type of friction.

“I love you too Jay, but I still want it now.” You huff, stopping your feeble attempts at movement at his soft, sleepy laugh behind you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” He says with a yawn before you’re both slipping into a restless, sweaty sleep tangled together.

————

Your phone lights up beside you on your bedside table, prompting you to grab it and read Sarah’s message in the group chat made for your fellow victims of NNN. “Fuck yes.” You whispered under your breath as you typed out your response, letting them both know your man was the winner. The smile grew bigger on your face when your eyes met JJ’s as he entered your bedroom, his shirt was discarded, allowing your eyes to trace the drops of water left behind after he brushed his teeth as they make a pathway through his chiseled abs.

"See somethin' ya like?" He asks with a teasing smirk that widens into a grin when you toss your phone aside for him, sticking your arms out silently begging him to join you on the bed, wanting to finally feel his skin against yours again. He stalks towards your bed, eyes on you intently as you wiggle in excitement at his proximity,

"Who were you texting?" He asks, his voice deep and demanding, as though he would throw the bet away if you answered wrong.

You smile even wider at his question, "Sarah and Cleo." You state matter of factly, crawling towards JJ where he stands at the foot of the bed. His eyes follow your movements closely, taking notice of the fact that you had already shed your pants for bed. Your hips rocked teasingly the closer you got to him, your cleavage free of if it's usually confines was visible entirely from his angle above you. You stood on your knees proudly when you finally reacher him, drifting your hand across his chest, letting it slowly fall lower while he groans at the contact.

"If you stop right now I promise I will fuck you tomorrow whether John B breaks or not." He growls, dropping his head as though he was ashamed, gripping your hand to stop it's decent. He knew if he let it fall any further he would lose control. You only giggled in response, leaning your head up to reach his ear, leaving a trail of kisses and bites behind as you did so.

"You know JB already broke right?" You whisper even though you knew he didn't, giggling when JJ’s head shoots back into place immediately. His ears excitedly perked up at your words like a golden retriever, eyebrows furrowed as if to ask if you were lying to him.

"Really?" His voice comes out forced, loosening his grip on your hand and letting it continue it's pursuit past the hem of his boxers. Sighing at the contact of your cold fingers against the steaming temperature of his skin when he lets you wrap your fingers around his base.

"Yup, Sarah just texted me and Cleo, she got him, you won Baby," Your sultry voice in his ear sends tingles all over his body, "Do you want your prize Daddy?"

“Oh, fuck yes I do.” JJ was on you in seconds, shoving you hard down against your soft bed, maneuvering your body around so he could slot himself between your thighs where he belongs. His hand fell between your bodies, carelessly tugging the hem of his boxers down just enough to let himself spring free, not caring to grab a condom in his haste. He quickly uses two fingers to tug your underwear aside before sinking into fully in one thrust, a broken, strangled sigh escaping his lips as he immediately sets a slow pace. His gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut above you causing a wide, triumphant smile to to grow across your face.

“Yeah I am not gon’ last long, fuck.” He whines, dropping his head to groan against the flesh of your neck. Your hands find hold on his shoulders as you dig your nails into his back, marking him and holding on to your release as it builds for the first time in days. His lips latch onto your skin forcing you to moan his name, his pace picks up while he pushes himself up on one hand beside your head wanting to watch your face when you come undone for him. His free hand runs it’s way down your side to grip your hip and hold you steady while he thrusts into you. You can feel him against you as you clench around him, earning a strangled mix between a moan and a groan from JJ’s throat, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains his composure. You can feel how close he is, his tip hitting just the right spot every time but becoming frantic while his mumbled words become slightly incoherent.

“If you let me cum inside I’ll buy you Plan B.” JJ huffed out above you, his eyebrows crinkling in concentration, trying to hold himself back, his blue eyes getting lost in yours again. He didn’t want to pull out, he had edged himself too much and he didn’t want to risk doing it again. His eyes fell to where you connected, watching the way his dick thrusted in and out of you making a mess on the sheets below. You sucked him in so perfectly that he wanted to stay inside forever.

“No shit, I know you will.” Your fingers melt into his hair, tugging his eyes back up to yours while you speak, “You can cum in me whenever you want Jay.” Your moan mingles with your words, accentuated by his final, hardest thrust before he stutters and twitches inside of you, collapsing on top pf you while his warm cum fills you and leaks past him onto the bed.

Your nails tickle against his back, your other hand playing with his hair, content while you stay connected as your breathing comes back to normal. JJ’s face rests in your neck, his breath fanning your skin as he wraps his arms around you fully. “I may have only lasted 12 days Mama, but I won us 40 bucks.”

“Okayyy but 12 days is still impressive for us,” You respond with a chuckle, tugging his hair to force eye contact with you, “It could have been day one Jay ya’ know.” He groans, his eyes fluttering shut again as his hands begin to run their way up his shirt you so often wear to bed, pinching at your hardening nipples and watching your eyebrows furrow in response.

“Round two?” JJ asks, biting at his lip and staring up at you with desperate eyes. You can feel his cock beginning to harden inside of you, your walls tightening around him at the feeling.

“Well you did say I could ride you Daddy.” Your voice comes out in a beg and you watch JJ’s face as it changes into a dominant scowl despite your growing smile. His jaw ticks and his tongue pushes his cheek out slightly at your words. JJ shoves himself off of you leaving you feeling empty while he settles on his knees. His dick bounces proudly in front of him as he tugs your panties down your legs before ridding himself of his own. You waste no time in removing your shirt and watching his mouth water at the sight of your bare chest as you tug yourself impatiently onto his lap.

You sink onto him, filling yourself up again with a sigh as his cock hits every spot perfectly. You bounce on him, setting a steady pace that your thighs can handle. JJ however, knows how much of a pillow princess you are, preemptively dragging his hands down your sides and to your hips, squeezing them lightly to let you know he can take over whenever you want. Your lips crash into JJ’s in a messy kiss, your tongues battle as your breath mixes. Moaning in each other’s mouths while your hands find perch on his shoulders.

JJ’s lips fall to your jaw, groaning into his kisses, nipping at your neck every time you speed up or slow down. You whine in his ear, your fingers finding his hair and tugging at it as you slow, telling him to take control of you completely. JJ’s wicked smirk widens, his hands tightening on your hips, his lips falling to suck your nipple into his mouth and swirl his tongue against it. His finger nails dig into your flesh as he starts to bounce you against his thighs, making you whine and grind into him further. “Faster Jay please.”

“You like that Princess?” JJ teases, his hands on your hips guiding you up and down his cock at a faster pace, “Do you like ridin’ Papa Jay Sweetheart?” He coos, tilting his head to watch you bounce on him, matching the pace he set as he thrusts up into you.

————

I think JJ is definitely the typa guy who talks ab himself in the 3rd person during sex😂

Idk how yall feel about Papa Jay but😮‍💨😮‍💨

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justwinginglife · 3 days ago

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No One But You

Food for the @pixelcafe-network

Sylus lay in a pool of his own blood, clutching the gunshot wound you had carved into his heart, muttering about betrayal and deceit in his final moments.

You rolled your eyes.

“Yesterday’s death was a hell of a lot more creative, Sylus.”

He sat up straight, scoffing. “Can’t help if the source material is unoriginal to start with. The best you could do was a gunshot wound today? Really?”

“That’s because I wasn’t trying to kill you, stupid.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what do you call plowing a bullet through my chest?”

You crossed your arms. “I call that trying to shut you up. Although, I suppose that didn’t work so well either, because then you prattled on about what a traitor I was and how you never saw this coming. Which, in my humble opinion, was laying it on too thick. You always see everything coming, don’t act like a victim.”

He chuckled and with a snap of his fingers, any trace of his blood or his wound had vanished. “What can I say, I like theatrics.”

“And I like my bosses to be less dramatic and less alive.”

He stood to meet your gaze, tsking at you as he tucked a finger under your chin. “Now, now, kitten. We’ve been having such a grand time together the last few months.”

You waved his hand away but he caught your wrist. You knew once he had you in his grasp, you weren’t getting out until he chose to let you go so you stopped resisting. He smirked, pleased at your submission.

Sighing, you grumbled, “Sy- you’ve got a 1 o clock meeting and I’ve yet to thoroughly vet them, so eventually you’ll have to let me go.”

He yanked you closer to him. “I highly doubt my favorite assassin would forget to vet anybody. I’m sure you already had him in your sights long before I made the meeting, am I correct?”

You met his brazen gaze with a fierce look of your own. “I suppose now that you know all my secrets, I really will have to kill you.”

He chuckled and kissed your knuckles. “Looking forward to it.”

Asshole.

He knew that you knew you couldn’t kill him if you tried, because you’d already tried. Many, many times.

You’d met him months back when you’d attempted to snipe him from a rooftop. You were the best in the assassination business, but something about this cheeky bastard who had the nerve to grin into your oculars right as you pulled the trigger had you feeling like an amateur again. And when he materialized beside you right after you’d supposedly shot him, offering employment rather than retaliation, you knew he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. How could the head of Onychinus allow an assassin to walk right into his headquarters, to eat and drink beside him, to sleep in the room next door, knowing he had a hefty bounty on his head that she intended to collect, and not bat an eye? He was some other beast entirely and you weren’t sure how to react.

Of course it made you feel valued to know that he only entrusted his most important missions to you -he’d say something along the lines of “there’s no one else who can do the job but you” and you’d roll your eyes but oblige him- but he must’ve still thought you were somewhat incompetent if he willingly allowed you to take a shot at trying to kill him everyday. And then there was the matter of his obvious flirting.

The way he always had your favorite wine laid out for you after a mission -you weren’t sure who he’d tortured for this information- or the way he always made sure to take you on missions with him that involved dressing up so he could admire your figure -not like he wasn’t already admiring it on a daily basis in your usual getup- or even the way he purred his little pet names in your ear, pet names that he didn’t seem to give to anyone else but you.

Some small part of you even wondered if maybe he loved you. But the rest of you knew that he probably didn’t even know what love was. The rest of you knew that he was probably toying with you. But what was he waiting for? For you to no longer be useful? For you to fall for him? For you to give up on killing him? What did he want?

The man had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen but you would never know what was going on behind them.

And it killed you to admit that he was beautiful. Rule number one of assassination was to not get attached to your target, but here you were, toasting him over dinner every night, admiring the curve of his lips, admiring the broadness of his shoulders, admiring the way his fingers held a wine glass, like you hadn’t spent decades training to be the monster you were known to be, like you were just some school girl hanging onto some jock’s every word.

He probably knew it too.

He liked to tease you; it was like his own personal form of entertainment.

He liked to intertwine his fingers in between yours like you hadn’t just used those very same fingers to try and strangle him only moments before. He liked to tuck your hair behind your ear, pinch your sides, pin down your wrists, tilt up your chin, anything so he could touch you. He liked to murmur your name, your real name, the name you hadn’t been called in years, the name you weren’t sure how he’d uncovered, over and over like a prayer, until you had to excuse yourself from dinner because you weren’t used to the gentleness in his voice. And then he liked to repeat the cycle over and over again, until you weren’t sure how you felt anymore, until you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

“Bastard.” You muttered under your breath.

“Trying to hurt my feelings?” Sylus snaked his arms around your waist.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, dear Sylus, only kill you.” You responded innocently.

He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. “That’s my girl.”

God, he couldn’t keep saying this shit to you.

“Not your girl, Sy.” You retorted, shaking him off of you.

“And why not? You could be.” His eyes gleamed mischievously.

In an instant you had a knife pinned to his throat. “Because of this. Because you’re nothing more to me than a target and I’m nothing more to you than a toy.”

He leaned in closer to you, allowing the metal to pierce his skin, drawing blood. “Well if it makes you feel better, there’s no one I’d rather have kill me but you.”

You laughed at that, withdrawing your knife. “Should I feel honored? And how does one even respond to that- there’s no one I’d rather have toy with me but you? God, work on your lines Sylus, you’re so cliche. You have a 2 o clock meeting, so get to it.” You shoved him off of you.

Grinning, he sauntered off to his next meeting with you guarding his back like you always did. And when his 2 o clock tried to kill him, he kept that same stupid grin on his face as he watched you pin the man underneath you in a matter of seconds, cuffing his hands together so tightly they bruised.

“Is it appropriate to say I’m feeling jealous right now, kitten?” He chuckled.

You scoffed. “No, Sylus, it is not.”

“And what if I said there’s no one I’d rather have pin me down than you?”

“Still not appropriate.”

The man underneath you groaned. “If you two are going to keep flirting or bickering or whatever this is, could you kill me already?”

You smacked his head with the butt of your gun. “Shut up, we’re trying to talk here.”

“Feisty. I love it when you talk like that, kitten.” Sylus ran his hand through your hair, the way he always did, admiring the way the strands felt in between his fingers.

“Funny, I love when you stop talking, Sy.”

The man squirmed beneath you again. “I’m serious, please just kill me already.”

“I said shut up, my god.” You tightened his cuffs.

But this time the man was annoyed. “He’s toying with you, you’re toying with him, we get it already. A man like Sylus is never gonna truly love you so can you please quit flirting an ki-”

You shot him in the head. “Did I not say to shut up?”

You had intended to keep him alive for information, but you had to admit his comment hit a little too close to home. You already knew Sylus was never going to love you, but was it that obvious to a random bystander? The thought pissed you off.

Sylus sighed. “And now I’m going to have to get the carpet cleaners in here.”

“You really should keep the company of quieter people.”

“And you should know when a man is baiting you.”

You scoffed, standing to leave. “And what’s that supposed to mean? I know when I’m being played, you do it all the time.”

“You’re so gullible sometimes, kitten. You’d really believe what a random hitman says?” He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you closer, and tucked one hand underneath your chin, drawing your gaze to him.

“I don’t believe what anyone says.”

“Yet you’d kill him for saying I could never love you? Interesting way of showing you don’t believe him.”

You glared at him, anger flaring in your gut. You attempted to wrench yourself away from him but he only pulled you tighter against him. “Sylus, let go already. Enough of this. I’m tired.” You snapped.

“Haven’t I already told you? There’s no one else for me but you.”

“Sylus, quit saying shit like that.”

“Right, you don’t like when I talk. Well then, how about this?” In a matter of seconds, his lips had found their way to yours, molding his passion and persistence into you.

You bit his lip in annoyance but it only fueled him more.

He chuckled against your mouth and claimed your tongue with his. His hands rested on the small of your back, possessively holding you in place against him. After properly swallowing down your moans and devouring all your desire, he finally pulled away to allow you some breath.

“Fine.” You whispered, still dizzy from his kiss.

He smirked, nuzzling up against your ear, as he murmured, “Fine what?”

“Fine. There’s no one else for me but you. Happy?”

“Immensely.”

He kissed you again and didn’t stop kissing you all night.

Taglist: @tbaluver

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus lads #sylus love and deepspace #lads

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theemeraldwings · 3 hours ago

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Reblogging because my response has become too long to put in the replies:

I don't think many people view the traitor primarchs as irredeemable, and I think the number among people who are well-versed in Horus Heresy lore is even smaller. They are, from the beginning, tragic characters. They certainly have their damning characteristics (namely hypocrisy), but they aren't really presented as irredeemable--we even have explicit statements regarding redemption for two of them (Big E says Mortarion can be redeemed in Godblight, and he outright forgives Horus in The End and the Death Vol III). I don't entirely agree with your interpretations, however. I don't think any of them are irredeemable (at least, not due to their own actions), but I think they miss some key details.

For all Angron claimed to be standing against oppression, he spent over a century expanding the Emperor's (extremely oppressive) regime. There's no moral purity shit here, either--Angron is pretty open about how he hates serving the Emperor even as he reduces worlds to ash in his name. What you said about Mortarion also applies to Angron, because of the Butcher's Nails. He was denied the chance to die with his family on Nuceria, and for the remainder of his life before daemonhood, the one thing he wants to do is die. And then Lorgar takes that away from him.

Mortarion's fall is because, first and foremost, he cared about his sons. Typhus brought the legion to Nurgle's garden, and infected them with the Destroyer Plague. Mortarion fell to Nurgle because he wanted to end their pain. Mortion is also a hypocrite. Like Angron, for all his claims of hating tyranny, he still expanded a tyrant's domain for a century and a half. (Corvus Corax is also on this list, but this is about traitor primarchs, not loyalist)

Magnus' guilt is very hotly debated among the community, and both sides have a point. On the one hand, he did the best thing he could with the information he had available. On the other hand, he was incredibly cocky, and did not have a concept of restraint. He believed he was in control, and he was too confident in that belief. (Side note: I despise the troupe of super powers being a stand-in for being queer (or any minority of any kind, for that matter)).

Fulgrim never said "fuck it, I'll have fun". His fall to Slaanesh was driven by his belief that, after killing Ferrus Manus, he was irredeemable. He's an addict; he isn't trying to have fun, he's trying to forget reality.

Everybody agrees that Big E mishandled Lorgar, and that's the most favorable interpretation for him. His argument on why he isn't a god is literal abuser language ("If I was a god, I'd use my psychic powers to force you all to kneel before me, like this" before using his psychic powers to force all of the Word Bearers to kneel before him). And all this ignores the shit Kor Phaeron did to him.

Horus is the spoiled rich white boy of the primarchs. He didn't fall because he was lost because dad was doing everything for him beforehand, he fell because he saw a vision of the future where he wasn't given the credit he thought he deserved. And then, like anybody else who grew up being told the world would be at their feet, he lost it. There's other issues as well, such as taxes (Terra wanted to impose heavy tithes on newly conquered worlds, which Horus opposed because it would cause them to rebel), but "gee, maybe I'm not ready" was never an issue.

Alpharius and Omegon believed that they knew the Emperor's plans better than he did, and threw in their lot with the traitors because they thought that if the traitors won, it would mean the end for Chaos.

Perturabo is someone who chose to suffer in silence and hope things would magically change. He never complains, and then is shocked when things don't go his way. I'm fairly sure he's also the primarch that people find the most relatable.

Konrad Curze was certainly mentally ill, and he was certainly denied the help and support that he needed, but I don't think he was abused because of it. He's also the kind of person who thought that if you publicly lynched enough jaywalkers, crime would go down, and that the Emperor sending an assassin to kill him because he committed treason and genocide was vindication for his belief that any crime warrants being skinned alive as a punishment.

They may not be irredeemable, but their hands are fare from clean.

I love how much of warhammer 40k is clearly a bunch of white dudes sitting around, thinking up the worst shit imaginable and going "thank god that could never happen to me, the cishet white guy"

angron is a one for one depiction of slavery, yet is painted as the bad guy for wanting to stand against oppression

mortarion is disabled and constantly has his decisions taken away from him by able bodied people only to be seen as moody and uncooperative

magnus is gay or trans or both. literally a guy blamed for something he was born with that he cannot control and told you're bad if you explore this part of yourself. also you're illegal now

fulgrim was actively encouraged to pursue perfection, despite never being good enough for others. he pushed any personal pleasure aside for an uncaring crusade and then is demonized for saying "fuck it, I'll have fun"

lorgar. also known as "this is why you don't abuse your kids"

horus is the golden child who's sent out into the world by himself only to find out Gee, Maybe I'm Not Ready because good ol dad did everything for him then told him "figure it out lol"

alpharius omegon are the autistic kids who don't understand why pops is doing this, maybe we should do things a little different than "blood soaked crusade"

perturabo is the burnout middle kid who did everything to impress his father only to be told "that's what's expected of you" who then got mad since acting out was the only way he got attention

konrad curze has a mental disorder. and is abused because of it

all of these characters were so close to being some of the best representation for minorities we could get in media only for gw to eat shit right at the finish line because they can't commit to an actual story. and it's amazing just how little these writers understand that the things they depict are all real things that people suffer through every day, and are demonized for every single day, especially when we are told these characters are irredeemable and should be destroyed, no questions asked

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #primarch #angron #mortarion #magnus the red #fulgrim #lorgar aurelian #horus lupercal #alpharius #alpharius omegon #perturabo #konrad curze

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brujamala-aka-gigi · 3 days ago

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tarot tea spill session ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

. ݁ hot girl mindset ⨾ 𓍢ִ໋

beauty as a reflection of self instead of the self trying to reflect “beauty”

Okay, so beauty is in the eye of the beholder and etc. And that's right, but many beholders of eyes have pretty unrealistic ideas of beauty. Beauty is subjective, yes, but this subjectivity is also heavily influenced by social discourses which are manufactured to remain unsatisfied and are meant to keep us engaging in a constant struggle to find our perfect aesthetic peak, and maintain it. Although visual communication by engaging in aesthetic expressions of self is useful, from time to time it's hard to find out what exactly is the self we want to express. In no way I think wanting to be attractive is vain or superficial, I don't think looking for beauty is some sort of vapid journey. But I do think that in the same way paintings are beautiful not only for what's perceived by the eyes but also because of the feelings, thoughts, history and overall the aura they possess, human beauty can be approached in that way too. Some art pieces and some humans are not meant to appeal to everyone, but the ones who they appeal to are profoundly captivated by the depths of their meaning and their unique ways of communicating it. These readings hopefully will give you some inspiration on where you can find the uniqueness and the true essence of what's attractive about you, but not by reducing aesthetics as just something pretty to look at, instead we are approaching this as a search for the meaning behind what could be communicated visually.

dividers by: @the-aesthetics-shop , @dollywons, @cafekitsune

pile one pile two pile three

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ��ִ ‧͙⁺˚

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ ko-fi page

⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

໒꒰ྀི 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ꒱ྀི১

The Fool & The Nine Of Disks

Both of these cards show stages of your journey. The fool is usually considered a beginning but I prefer to understand him as the constant creative potential that nothingness gives us; for it to be a beginning there has to be a starting point, and for many of us the starting point is a void we'd like to fill, or something that needs further exploration and understanding by providing meaning to it. This is something that could happen at any point in your journey. Yet as existential and subjective as this card is, usually leading to a more mind focussed approach to reality, the materiality of your spiritual or mental exploration manifests in a grounded sense of ambition. The nine of disks represents how the fruits of your well developed thoughts can manifest in or enhance material prosperity, but in combination with the fool it hints at a constant search for experiences that allow you to feel childlike wonder, and this seems almost like completion feels too close but never close enough. You are willing to evolve through experimentation and furthering the limits of your views and possibilities, but you are also capable of being grounded enough to be aware of what's in your best interest and what can actually be an opportunity for growth. The beauty in you shows when you are embracing these journeys of self exploration and putting value in all the stages of your own personal development. How you feel while doing stuff isn't all that relevant, you could be ingenious, creative, naive, secure, anxious, angry or ambitious about what you do, but what really matters is that you are able to remain confident in your ability to navigate the feelings and the adversities from it; there are consequences implied (positive and negative) to the actions you take in order to become more comfortable and aligned with your ideals. Therefore, the best way to communicate this experiential based establishment of identity, it’s to explore and experiment with aesthetics until you establish a way in which you can visually communicate all the complexities of your identity, without limiting yourself to aiming for a perfectly curated presence. Allow yourself to make aesthetic choices that align with what you are going through as a person, but also don’t hesitate to choose elements of high value that could function as a reward you give yourself.

໒꒰ྀི 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ꒱ྀི১

The Lovers & Seven of Disks

Honestly, these are lovely cards to get on this reading, pretty wholesome. Not because the lovers mean love and romance and so on, they do sometimes, but in this case I think it would be necessary to focus on the union and alignment that comes with the energy of this card. What I get from it is that you are naturally inclined to find connections between things that other people usually look to balance out, things that are usually thought as opposite to each other. Instead of that, you are capable of working with polarity in your life because you understand that putting in the work to ensure these apparent opposites are actually mutually nurturing each other or cooperating to further evolve, is what brings you a sense of natural harmony. Your instinctive need to find order and structures that embrace innate essential expressions of being, is something quite aligned with values such as perseverance, faith, gratitude, honest labor and most importantly, solidarity. For these reasons,the seven of disks indicates to me that you are someone who is willing to put in a lot of time, effort and work to create bonds with people, places, communities and activities, where everyone is having a positive impact on each other's aspirations and achievements. Taking this into consideration, first and foremost it is clear that no matter how you choose to express your aesthetic taste, it’s likely your virtues overshine any beauty that’s easily perceived by the eye. That being said, I would also point at the fact this also means there’s no need to feel insecure or overthink too much about if everyone else likes the way you look. Your actions and your warm presence speak louder than any kind of aesthetic choice that could be liked or disliked. Take your time to think about what are the elements you enjoy wearing or the beauty habits that could be positive. Choose beauty when it feels genuinely convenient and positive to you, only to you. I don’t think being conventionally attractive or deemed as beautiful by everyone is the best way to compensate or balance out anything you considered negative, but I do think that approaching aesthetics or any kind of beauty related activities as a little tool to take time for yourself, could be quite useful. Remember, appeal to yourself, to your eyes first. "Vanity" can be relaxing and/or empowering as long as it doesn't get in the way of your genuine desires and objectives. Embrace and enhance what feels true to you, be intuitive when dealing with your personal aesthetics.

໒꒰ྀི 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ꒱ྀི১

Ace of Wands & The Hanged Man

Okay definitely you are someone who is not afraid to go outside of people's standards or even your own when you are empowered by creativity. This combination of cards brings an outstanding and innovative approach to constructing ideas and taking action by being able to see all perspectives before crafting your own; there’s a heavy sense of complex integrity and depth to everything you do. You know when to be an observer and when to be a protagonist, you are comfortable in both and let’s be real, it's most likely that you don’t need others to give you the spotlight, as you are providing it by yourself for yourself. Attention naturally goes to you due to your passionate energy and your individuality. For better or for worse somehow it's pretty common for you to stand out, even if you don’t mean to. Many people try or have tried to single you out, or to force you out of places where your perspectives might generate discomfort. I doubt it is your intention to cause friction by existing according to ideals that many people don’t quite get or are unwilling to understand or tolerate. But I’m also pretty sure that you have the confidence and the knowledge to stand for what makes you distinct from others. These cards are conjunct in a way that shows me that you are aware of how to put a little bit of yourself and your creativity even when there’s restrictions to self expression. If you are interested in also taking an intricate, unique and maybe antithetical approach to aesthetics, make sure you find the right places and the right people to share this journey with. Sometimes eccentricity allows others to impose limits and judgments against us that are not worth the struggle, other times it is quite worth it to visually go against norms. I believe you are capable of understanding how and when to use all the tools and methods from people who inspire your creative processes, therefore I'm sure that you will truly bring necessary and valuable approaches to dissidence and defiance communicated by aesthetics, but also you will get closer to people who are drawn to you because you can look just as interesting and insightful as your thoughts are. It seems to me that aesthetics can serve you as a way to further develop your creative visions but also to find more like minded people who are not going to make you feel like an outsider.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ personal readings

✶ ko-fi page ✶

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ available for personal readings ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

btw after finishing this p.a.c i realized this would be a cool reading to provide as a personal service. so, here's the essence of beauty reading and a 40% off discount to it.

much love, gigi.

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kamisatomay018 · 1 day ago

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Confessions of the Heart

Sylus x MCreader (female)

Warnings: angst to fluff, angry sylus and reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

Wrote this after being inspired by what @bookfreakk posted. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sylus was the most infuriating man you had ever met. Since the day you landed in the N109 Zone, you couldn’t stand his haughty, arrogant and smug nature. You two would always argue, especially after the man made you shoot his heart. It made you panic, though back then you never understood why. You always believed he had killed your grandma and Caleb, and your hatred for the man ran deep. But something about his battered, bloody self tugged at your heart, conflicting you.

As time went by, you grew to hate his teasing, his games, his schemes. In your mind, Sylus was everything you never wanted in a man- arrogant, cold, prideful and most importantly- a goddamn Criminal.

Then why was it that your heart skipped a beat every time you looked into those dangerous ruby eyes? Why was it that you found your heart searching for the silver haired man even after you returned to Linkon? It bothered you so much, after all you hated him, hated his guts…right?

Or so you thought. As you lay in bed alone at night, your mind kept recalling the memories of the time your evol linked the two of you together- the closeness of being in the closet, his deep, teasing voice calling you Kitten, his tall, buff body and his stupidly handsome face. Fuck, it was too much. That was when you realised, to your absolute horror, that you loved him. You loved Sylus, and as much as he infuriated you, as much as you wanted to claw his eyes out, you also wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

Fuck.

No, this was so wrong. You couldn’t love him, he was a criminal, wanted by the Hunters Association. Being with him meant bringing disaster upon your life. And that man could love no one. The Sylus you knew kept people around depending on how useful they were to him. He wasn’t one to get attached, no. He was the leader of Onychinus, he was a bloody murderer. There was no way you both could ever work out.

And as much as it made your heart hurt excruciatingly, you buried these ridiculous feelings for him deep down. Perhaps it was just a convenience crush, maybe it was because he was physically attractive. But no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had fallen for his teasing, his boasting, his pride. You had fallen for Sylus.

Perhaps that is what led to your current situation. You glared at the silver haired man sitting in front of you, breathing heavily as you seethed in rage. There he was, sitting ever so casually as he bled, having suffered multiple wounds all over him after a ridiculously dangerous mission you had no idea about. Luke and Kieran had called you over in a panic, never having seen their boss this way. Sylus was basically untouchable in the N109 zone, which is why seeing him battered and bruised like this did unspeakable things to your heart.

“Are you out of your fucking mind Sylus!? Why would you go face so many people ALONE!?” You spat in anger, watching as he simply rolled his eyes, his evol surrounding him to heal his wounds. “Seems like a certain kitten has her claws out tonight” He all but spoke teasingly, only fuelling your anger.

“Is everything just a fucking joke for you!? Why would you ever think that this was a wise choice!?” You raised your voice, agitated by his nonchalant behaviour. Sylus frowned at this, standing up to look you in the eyes. “Enough now kitten. I will tell Luke and Kieran to not bother you with such trivial matters in the future.”

Trivial? You looked at Sylus as if he had lost his mind, your eyes burning with rage. Did he not care about his own life? Did he seriously not understand why you were so angry? Oh of course he wouldn’t, he wasn’t capable of loving someone at all. “Shut up Sylus! Why are you always so arrogant and prideful!? You may be strong but you are not invincible! Walking into a room full of armed men and trying to kill them is a stupid choice!”

Sylus felt himself get agitated at that. You had no idea just why he had chosen to kill those men, just why he had put his life on the line. His ruby eyes glared down dangerously at you now, his tone sharp. “I said, enough. Do not speak on matters you know nothing about. I can handle myself.”

You scoffed angrily, hating that you really did not know anything about his mission. Sylus had been strangely distant with you over the last month, making your heart clench in pain every day. You hated how you still loved him, despite his recklessness. “Oh yeah? You can handle yourself? If you truly were able to then you wouldn’t be here nearly dead!”

Something in Sylus snapped as you yelled out those words. He hated being doubted, he hated being considered weak even after he had conquered the entirety of the N109 zone. And he hated being doubted especially by you. By the one woman that he loved more than his own life, the one woman for whom he was ready to risk everything he had. He clenched his fists in anger, glaring down at you as his own voice raised now “Don’t you even try to doubt my abilities. And frankly Kitten; why are you so bothered by me dying? A few months ago you were glad to put a bullet in my heart. So why the concern now huh?”

Hearing those words was your final straw. You could no longer contain your anger, nor your feelings. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! AND I HATE IT!”

Silence, pin drop silence was all you were met with after your outburst. Sylus stood there, motionless, not being able to believe what you had just said. A huge part of him felt relief, so much relief because only heaven knows how much time he had spent being hopelessly in love with you. But the other part? Heartbroken it was, because you admitted that you hated loving him.

For the first time since you’d known him, you saw a rare emotion in Sylus’ eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Was it..hurt? Your own hands trembled as you realised the weight of what you had done. Confessing your love for him was a dangerous move, one that could be potentially disastrous. But your heart could no longer help it. The sight of him bloody and injured, staggering onto the couch was too painful for you to bear.

“Why do you hate loving me kitten..?” You heard his deep voice say, much softer than before. Still as agitated as you were, you glared at him, responding. “Because I know you would never love me back. You..you don’t even know the meaning of love, do you? You only keep me around because I’m useful-“

You weren’t even able to finish your sentence before you found yourself pinned to the wall, Sylus’ face inches apart from your own. He was seething in anger once again, as if your words had hurt him more than the stab wounds he had a while ago. “How dare you assume that I do not know what love is, when I have spent Every.Single.Lifetime loving you, waiting for you..How dare you assume that I kept you around just to use you? After everything I do for YOU?”

You felt your lips part in shock as the weight of his words sunk in. Your anger slowly melted away as it was replaced by raw emotion. You looked into those hypnotising red eyes, searching for some form of mischief, some form of deception or teasing. But there was none. He looked at you with anger, but also with something so much more intense, something that made your heart race.

“You..you love me..? And..what do you mean by everything you do for me?” You asked him, voice soft as confusion swirled in your eyes. Sylus let out a shaky breath, his big warm hand cupping your cheek. “Sweetie..you have no idea how long I waited to meet you. I have always protected you from the shadows, keeping a watch to ensure your safety. Why do you think I went alone on such a dangerous mission? To wipe off The Nest, to wipe off the people who have hurt you, who have made you cry. I know you deemed me as someone incapable of love, but I have spent every second of my life loving you.”

Overwhelming guilt was all you felt at his confession. You had judged him so harshly, when he was out there seeking revenge on your behalf. Eradicating people who meant you harm. Putting his life on the line for you.

Tears filled your eyes as you cupped his cheeks, watching the way he immediately closed his beautiful eyes, nuzzling in your gentle touch. Your heart ached as you finally realised that the intense emotion he always looked at you with was Love. You were just too oblivious to realise it. “Sylus I..I’m so sorry..”

He looked at you again, chuckling softly as he shook his head, this time hugging you as he placed his hand on your head. “No need for any of that sweetie. I wasn’t exactly the best at showing my care for you. I may not show it but I do love you kitten. There is no love purer than mine.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you felt relief and happiness wash over you all at once. You hugged him back so tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you like that? I..I thought I’d lose you..” Hearing your shaky voice tugged at Sylus’ heartstring, leading him to hug you closer.

“Ah so that’s why my kitten was bearing her claws.” He teased you again, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing you cry was the last thing he wanted. But to his amusement, all he was met with was a gentle punch to his chest and a tearful “shut up” from you. That only made him chuckle more, leading him to pat your head.

“Don’t worry sweetie, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides..” he gently raised your chin, making you look into his eyes. “I will always find my way back to you, you have my word.”

You knew Sylus always kept a promise once he made it. You smiled tearfully, nodding as you got on your tippy toes to rest your forehead against his, making him smile affectionately. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you like he always had. “Don’t scare me like that again. You mean more to me than any revenge Sylus. I need you by my side..”

Oh you were gonna be the death of him. Your sweet words only increased his love for you even more, something he thought wasn’t possible. “I will always get rid of anyone who dares to even think of harming you. But, I will be more careful. Can’t have my kitten crying like this again, I prefer it more when you give me that exasperated expression of yours.”

You laughed at his words now, shaking your head. “God you’re so infuriating.” He chuckled at your words, looking at you with the same teasing glint in his eyes, only this time, they were also full of tender love. “And yet you love me sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his smug voice, but you weren’t able to fight the loving smile that made its way on your face. “Alas, I do” Sylus smiled wider at that, leaning closer until your lips were a mere inch apart as he whispered “And I love you more than anything else.”

The next thing you felt were his soft lips engulfing your own in a kiss that was filled with longing and passion. You kissed him back immediately, heart fluttering with love as you realised just how hopelessly you had fallen for this man. The big, bad leader of Onychinus; the criminal wanted by the hunter’s association, the prideful infuriating man. But now you realised that in this moment, with you, he was just Sylus. Your Sylus. World be damned, he was all you wanted.

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus x mc #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lds sylus #onychinus #n109 zone

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trippinsorrows · 11 hours ago

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in your hands + two

authors note: well, friends. we've done it again. this is going to be a short series. if you're unaware, it's yet another au based off "looking through your eyes."

need to catch up? read part one HERE.

warnings: fluff, angst and smut

words: 8k (don't ask)

“Remind me again what you know about this guy?”

It’s a valid question. One Solana has no answer to despite the understanding of and behind it.

She shakes her head, once again throwing aside another failed option for a dress, earning another look of disagreement from her best friend and older sister, Yolanda.

Six years apart, while they weren’t the closest when they were younger, with Solana now being a mother and no longer just an aunt to her niece and nephew, she's found herself growing closer to her older sister.

Something about motherhood being a thing for both of them creating a bond.

Not to mention, while they haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, in her hardest moments, Solana has been able to lean on her big sister. Hence why she’s packed up her daughter and a couple of different options for her date tonight with Roman and ventured over to her sister’s place.

It would have probably been easier for her to just invite Yolanda over to her apartment, but given that Trick, Solana’s brother-in-law, offered to swing by her place and pick her, along with Soraya staying with them for the evening, it just worked out better that way.

Plus, Yolanda has always been much better with makeup, fashion and things of the sort.

“His name is Roman, and he’s nice.”

Yolanda rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s so much.”

“He’s older.”

Yolanda’s gaze becomes a bit more suspicious. “How old?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. 30s.” The gray in Roman’s beard would indicate he may even be in his forties, but looks wise, he just doesn’t appear that old. He must work a stressful job. Has to be given how wealthy he appears. Rich people seem to always be stressed about one thing or another. Even if it’s a trivial matter that’s very much first world problems.

Yolanda nods, clearly pleased by the answer, finding the age gap agreeable. “And how did you meet him?”

Solana shrugs. “I told you. At work.”

“At that uppity ass restaurant?”

Solana rolls her eyes, grabbing another dress off the bed. “The one that helps me pay my bills.” Barely. “Yes.”

Yolanda is dedicated to staying on this topic. “So, he just walked up to you and asked you on a date while you had Raya on your hip?”

Solana fiddles with the dress in her hand. “Not exactly…..”

She had to be pacing across her room for a good half hour, cell phone in one hand, folded piece of paper in the other. The little piece of paper that she found wrapped up with the stack of money given to her by Roman exactly three days prior.

A piece of paper with a seven digit number written on it. Dashes and all. A phone number.

His phone number.

She’s thought about it on and off for the past three days, too. Considered throwing it away, considered calling it, texting it even. So many options, and none seemed like the right one.

Why would a man like him give someone like her his number? While on a date, nonetheless? Granted, given from what she saw of their interactions on said date, Solana wouldn’t be surprised if it was the first and last.

And it’s not like there was a wedding ring on either of their fingers.

So……

It’s why she acts based on that fleeting moment of courage, deciding to bite the bullet and dial the number while Raya sleeps peacefully in her crib.

It takes another five minutes between the time she dials the number and when she hits send. Her heart is practically beating out of her chest at each daunting ringing on the other end.

“Hello.” And right away, Solana is regretting her decision. He sounds irritated.

“Hi.” She clears her throat. “Umm, I—”

“Solana?” And just like that, his tone has shifted into something entirely different. Kinder, almost.

“Yeah, ummm, is this a bad time?”

A deep chuckle on the other end of the phone. “No. Not at all.” It certainly doesn’t sound that way, but she’s not about to call him out on the incongruence. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Not if?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

She swallows. He’s so confident. “I—I just didn’t—I wasn’t sure if it was—it was an accident.” And as soon as it comes out, she’s slapping her face as she continues to wear a hole into the floor. What a stupid thing to say.

Another deep chuckle. His voice is so damn sexy. “You think I accidentally gave you my number?”

“I just…..” A glance at the photo on her nightstand, one of the first photos taken of her and Soraya when she was born, triggers the elephant in the room. “I have a baby.”

“I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. “Look, I’m not a phone person. I prefer to discuss things face to face.” Solana’s stomach twists.“What are you doing Friday night?”

And the twisting intensifies, because there’s no way he’s asking her out?

He can’t be…..right?

She clears her throat, offering an answer that’s not entirely true but not entirely false either. “I—I have to work.” She technically hasn’t picked up the shift yet, but it’s bound to happen. Among other things. Catch up on schoolwork. Be a mom. Stress over bills. Nightly scheduled mental breakdown. The usual.

“Not anymore,” he says it so easily, like it’s a simple thing that shouldn’t even need to be discussed. “I’ll give you whatever you make in a night.”

Solana laughs, waiting for him to also join in. He doesn't. “Shit, are you—are you serious?”

“Send me your address. I’ll have a car come pick you up.”

And that was all she wrote, hence how Solana ended up in the position she’s in now, readying for her date with a Mr. Roman Reigns.

A knock on the door interrupts her, Heaven, Solana's ten year-old niece walking in, her eyes lighting up when she sees the dress. "It's so pretty!"

Solana smiles, "thank you, baby."

Heaven's eyes crinkle with a sense of playful mischief as she walks over by her mom, sitting on her lap and asks, "are you going on a date?"

Solana and Yolanda share a laugh, the elder sister answering, "she sure is, Heav."

Solana readies to ask her niece a question when Heaven beats her to it. "Is he gonna be Raya's new dad?"

It's unexpected, as are a lot of questions for kids. But, it's still something that gives her pause, makes Solana sad for a second. Cruz doesn't need to be anyone's father. Raya isn't missing out on anything with him, but the innocent question does stir up some deeply rooted fears.

If Raya will suffer from growing up without a father at all?

Granted, it's hard for Solana to justify the alternative. Her father was in her life, and look how that turned out.

Yolanda is wise and helpful, redirecting her daughter, "baby, did you need something??"

Heaven is young enough to not see the innocent subterfuge, instead asking her initial question. “What time is grandpa coming over?”

Solana’s head snaps up as she looks at her sister through the mirror. Yolanda’s pretty face is painted in guilt as she clears her throat, quietly asking Heaven to complete some made up task, resulting in them being alone.

“Sola…..”

“Is he coming over tonight?”

“Sola—”

“Answer the question, Yolanda.”

Yolanda swallows, defeat overcoming her. “Yes.”

Solana scoffs, partially in disbelief, mostly pissed the fuck off. Shaking her head, she throws the dress down on the bed and grabs her bag, angrily stuffing them in said bag. “Forget it. I’ll see if Kayden can keep Raya.”

Yolanda’s shoulder drops as she shakes her head. “Solana, you’re being ridiculous. He’s our da—”

“Do not call him that,” Solana snaps. “He’s your dad. He’s nothing to me.” She continues to pack away the clothes, the sting of betrayal fueling her actions. “I can’t believe you would try this shit. You know I don’t want him meeting Soraya.”

She sighs, trying to explain herself. “I wouldn’t have let him—”

“Bullshit,” Solana cuts her off, swinging the bag over her shoulder. “When are you going to learn to respect my wishes? I don’t want anything to do with him! The same way he didn’t want anything to do with me!”

“You’re so dramatic. Acting like he was never there.”

“And you’re acting like he was father of the freaking year,” Solana snaps before scoffing bitterly. “Oh wait, he was. For you. It was just when I rolled around he decided he was done with fatherhood.”

Yolanda’s pretty eyes flash with a slice of guilt, but not enough to cause her to confess her wrongdoing. “Solana, he wants to make things right with yo—”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I don’t want anything to do with him,” Solana vows, gathering her bag of clothing that holds her wallet, her phone stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans as she walks out of the room, down the hall, and in TJ’s bedroom where the crib is.

“Hi, baby…..” Solana apologizes as she lifts a sleeping Soraya out of the crib, grateful when her sweet daughter remains asleep. Solana kisses the side of her head and bypasses her sister who stands in the hall, following her out and into the living room.

Solana finds her brother-in-law sitting on the sofa, watching ESPN.

“Trick, can you drop me off at Kayden’s place?”

Yolanda is behind her, frustration in her voice. “Solana, you’re being childish.”

Solana ignores her, focusing on her request. “Please?”

She sees the way Trick’s confused expression lifts from her to behind her, Yolanda most likely nodding to give him the sign off. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shuts off the television and stands up. “Of course, sis.”

Solana mumbles a thank you and ops to stand outside and wait on the porch. She’s too livid with Yolanda to be around her right now.

She just hopes and prays that this isn’t a bad sign for the evening to come.

—-------

Le Bernardin

A fancy, rich, upscale restaurant. The type where people pay thousands of dollars just for a reservation. Solana had actually applied for a job there, overhearing the pay was a fraction above minimum wage. Only for them to take one look at her and send her on her merry way, less than ten minutes into the interview.

So, it’s a bit of a full circle moment when the SUV pulls up in front of said restaurant, and she realizes the same place that turned her away as a waitress is exactly where she’ll be dining this evening.

God really does have a sense of humor.

Solana is taken back yet again as she is escorted into the restaurant only to see it completely vacant. There’s a couple of workers, and….and him.

Roman Reigns.

Somehow, someway, he looks different. Better than before. Bigger. If that’s even possible.

The closer she gets to him, the more she takes in his appearance. Dress pants, nice shoes, short sleeved, dark blue shirt that hugs his bulging muscles. That beautiful hair pulled back into a bun. Expensive watch on his wrist. And eyes glued directly onto her.

Solana suddenly feels severely underdressed, regretting letting Kayden talk her into wearing the short orange dress and gold heels she eventually settled on after a good half an hour of going back and forth on options.

But, it’s when she’s directly in front of him, his lips curling into a smug smile that the second guessing wanes ever so slightly.

He looks far from disinterested.

“You look even more beautiful when you’re all done up.”

It’s hard not to smile at such a compliment coming from such a man.

“Thank you…..” She looks around, nervously gripping her clutch. “Are we the only—”

“I rented it out for us for the night.” Her eyes widening make him chuckle as he moves to pull out her chair for her. “You could say I’m a bit of a private person.”

Solana swallows, still confused but moving to sit down. “How…..how did you?”

“Money talks,” is his simple answer as he sits across from her, motioning for the men who escorted her in the restaurant to leave. “I’m glad you came.”

In a weird sort of way, she is too. Even if she’s not entirely sure why. “I—I wasn’t sure at first.”

He looks curious. “Why?”

Shrugging, she pushes a string of hair that’s escaped her updo behind her ear. “That woman you were with…..”

Roman rolls his eyes. “She’s irrelevant.”

“Not irrelevant enough for you to not take on a date.” It comes out before she even realizes it. Solana slaps her hand over her face. “I’m so sor—”

“I’ve known her since I was a teenager. We…..mess around from time to time.”

Solana grows quiet. She gets it. He’s handsome. That woman was stunning. It makes sense that attractive people like to fuck other attractive people.

“But, she’s not….she’s not your girlfriend?” Because as handsome and nice as Roman seems, that’s one thing she could never do or get behind. Being the other woman.

“Not at all.” His answer is a lot more relieving than she’d like to admit. “So, can I ask about your daughter’s father?” He skips to the real question. “He still in the picture?”

Solana shakes her head, waiting for the waiter who just walked up to finish pouring the champagne before she answers. “No.” Solana takes a sip, eyes closing, missing the relief that flashes in his eyes. “He—he abandoned her and me.”

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t necessarily sound it, but regardless, it doesn’t make a difference.

“I’m not,” she shrugs, being more honest than what’s characteristic for her. “He’s a piece of shit who left me when he found out I was pregnant, showed back up a month after she was born because he assumed I put her up for adoption and left again when he realized I was keeping her.” Solana ends on the bitter but honest note. “I’m glad he’s not in her life. He’d only end up hurting her.”

Flashbacks of her own daddy issues flood in, forcing her to confront the fact that she’s probably just overshared. A lot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not wrong. Kids need stability.” He says it so easily, Solana wondering if there’s a story there. “How old is she?”

The question brings the smile back to her face. “11 months. She’ll be a year next month.” Solana can’t believe how time has gone by. It feels like only yesterday she was welcoming her sweet daughter into the world, and now she’s about to be one. Time truly does fly. “I’m sorry, I keep talking.”

“I think I could listen to you talk all night and never get tired.” Their eyes lock, Solana shifts in her seat. His gaze is intense and burning and has her cheeks reddening. “Tell me more.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

She looks away, briefly distracted, wondering just how much the chandelier above their table costs. Probably more than she’s even made in her working life. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m—I’m 26. I—I have a child. An older sister. She’s married with two kids. I—I’m really close with my mom and my sister…..usually.” She chuckles, adding, “I work two jobs, and I go to school full time.”

He seems intrigued by that last part. “What are you studying?”

“I’m getting my masters in nursing, specifically for FNP. I wanna be a family nurse practitioner.”

“Will be,” he corrects, complementing, “that’s impressive.”

“Maybe.” If only she felt as sure as he sounds. Still, she's appreciative of the kind words and says as much. “Thank you. My—my mom is a nurse. My sister is an RN. Mami wanted to be an NP, but she got pregnant with me right when she started grad school and just couldn’t handle both, so she dropped out.” Solana swallows. “I want to do it for her. For me, too, of course. But her and Raya.” His slight confusion makes her smile as she clarifies, “Soraya’s nickname is Raya.”

Roman makes a sound, acknowledging, “your face lights up when you talk about her.”

The smile is unavoidable. “She’s my heart.” Emotion builds up as she finds herself sharing, “I had just moved back here from Cali when I found out I was pregnant with her, and it….it’s weird, but I—I needed her at that time. I needed her to help me heal.” Solana finds herself subconsciously rubbing at the horizontal scar on the palm of her right hand.

A battle scar.

Most of what she's shared with this man would probably rank pretty high up there on anyone’s list of shit not to say on a first date, probably cementing this being a one and done thing. And, it’s not intentional. At all. She just finds herself opening up to Roman in a way she hasn’t opened up to any man.

Ever.

And, it confuses the mess out of her.

If he's curious about the unspoken story, he doesn’t express as such, just offers her a path to deflection. “Well, I’m sure you have questions for me.”

She does. “What do you do?”

He smiles at her, and she feels her insides melting away. He’s such a beautiful man. “Business exec. I do buyout leveraging. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m also into real estate.”

She nods, assessing the still vacant room, like she’s just waiting for other guests to arrive, even though he’s made it clear that won’t be happening. “I guess…..I guess you do well for yourself.”

He makes a face. “You could say that.”

She’s most definitely saying that.

“What about your family? Do you have any kids?”

“No kids. I have a twin sister. Parents are still alive, but that’s…..complicated.”

Solana picks up on the almost tension that rises in him at the ending part, the way his eyes briefly dart away.

“I get that…..” Because she does. Oh, she does. “Are you close with your sister?”

Solana is relieved to see that pearly white smile return. “Depends on the day.”

She giggles. “I agree. My sister is my best friend, but she’s also a thorn in my side sometimes.”

“Is that who’s watching your daughter?”

“She was supposed to,” Solana chuckles, elbows on the table. “But, it ended up being a thorn day, so she’s with her godmother.”

He nods, asking, “what time do you need to be back?”

Solana starts to answer while pulling out her phone, “I put her down for bed a little early, so…..” Glancing at the time on the phone, seeing that it’s quarter to 7pm, she shrugs and shares, “I just need to be home by midnight.”

He makes a sound. “That’s a decent amount of time.”

Curious, she finds herself asking, “For what?”

“Whatever you want.” And it’s the way he’s looking at her, how his eyes briefly drop to her chest, the small smirk on his face that there’s definitely something he wants, too. “Or whoever.”

—-----

Straddling Roman Reign’s lap in the back of the SUV that’s currently driving them to his penthouse isn’t exactly how Solana pictured this evening playing out. Even if it was predicted by her annoyingly accurate best friend.

“Ten bucks says you get fucked tonight.”

It was laughable at the time. Solana has never been one to sleep around. Cruz was her first everything. First kiss. First boyfriend. First time. Hell, the father of her first child. She’s never been with another man except for him, never really saw it for or in her to try out different men.

It’s why Roman currently sucking on her neck as his big hand palms her ass through her dress has her thrown for a loop. This isn’t her. At all. And yet, there’s not a single part of her that wants to stop, wants to push him away, to tell him no.

She just finds herself smashing her lips back onto his, the two continuing to tongue each other down until they reach their destination.

His hand closed around her, Solana is trying to gather herself as he leads them into the building to the private elevator. The distraction of his lips on her pulling her from taking in the fact that this man seems to be surrounded by security. Men guarding the SUV as they walked in the building. Men in the lobby of said penthouse. Men in the restauraunt.

Just guards everyone.

Solana chalks it up to a rich people thing.

Especially when she steps foot into his penthouse.

“Holy shit…..” The interior is dark and sleek. Some shades of red and blue strewn about. It all feels so expensive. “I can’t believe this is where you liv—”

“I’m not gon’ lie, I’m not listening to a damn thing you’re saying right now.” It’s a combination of brutal honesty and a strain of frustration, Solana turning around to see he’s inching towards her. “All I can think about is getting you naked and face down, ass up on my bed.”

She closes her eyes the minute he’s right before her, swinging his arm around her waist, yanking her to him. Solana has to crane her head up to look at him. He’s so damn tall.

The hungry look in his eyes is no doubt too different from the exact way she’s looking at him. He may want her, but she definitely wants him.

Even if she doesn’t understand it.

Even if a part of her feels slightly guilty for what’s about to commence.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that she wants this.

It’s what has her licking her lips and saying so calmly. “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile is wicked, and she only has seconds to think about what she just welcomed into her. Figuratively and literally before he smashes his lips onto her.

Solana has only been kissed by a few men in her life, the majority of them coming from her daughter’s father. And it’s always been…..okay. Decent. Nice, even.

Kissing Roman, however, is none of those things. That hunger in his eyes is matched only by the passion in the way he kisses her, the way his full, pink lips move against hers, his tongue entering her mouth, toying around with her own.

It’s all so powerful and ravenous, and she finds her hands locking behind his neck at the same moment he hikes her up on his waist.

A gasp leaves her mouth, forcing her to break said kiss as he walks her to the back of his place, toward his bedroom.

“How…..” Never a small woman by any stretch of the imagination, especially since having Soraya, it’s a complete surprise the way he lifts and holds her like she weighs no more than a gallon of milk.

Roman, however, is clearly still not interested in talking, because the moment they arrive in his bedroom, he has her up against the back of his door. His mouth is back on her with those hungry kisses that has her nails raking up the back of his neck, her thighs tightening around his waist.

His breathing is uneven, his voice strained, and that hardening pressing in between her legs tells her just how badly he wants this too.

“If you want to stop, you need to say something now.”

It’s the do or die moment. The epic moment of meeting at the crossroads. A part of her is screaming at her to get the hell out of this man’s place and back home where she belongs. With Soraya. Her daughter. Being the best mother that she can be.

But, another part of her, a stronger part of her, wants this, wants him. Because she always does the right thing. Or, tried to, at least. She’s certainly never allowed herself to indulge like this, so where’s the harm?

It’s like Kayden said.

Even woman should have at least one one night stand story. And who better to do it with than the man before her?

Solana’s answer is to press a teasing kiss against the base of his neck. “I’m not saying anything.....”

It feels like she’s barely able to get the words out when he’s carrying her over to the bed, sitting down with her still on top of him. He pulls back and motions for her to climb off. Standing in front of him, Solana watches how his gaze travels over her body before he demands, “take your clothes off. Slowly.”

It’s a strange, almost unfamiliar thing how easy it is for her to follow his instruction without a second thought. One minute her fingers are hooking on the thin straps of her dress, the next she’s squeezing herself out of it, all the while of his eyes never once leaving her.

Heavy breast freed, the only piece of clothing remaining on her is the soaked, black, lacy thong that keeps her cunt covered.

Roman licks his lips and beckons her over, Solana wordlessly stepping close enough for him to tug her to him, his face buried in her chest. Her head falls back at the same time her mouth drops open as he starts a dangerous combination of kneading one breast while tonguing the other.

“Oh, fuck…..” Her hand is once again on the back of his head. “Roman…..”

“You better get used to saying my name.” He hikes her back on his waist only to flip them, so she’s laid back on the bed with his big, strong body covering her. “Cause it’s the only thing I want to hear for the next few hours.”

Her eyes widen at that, the word escaping her, “hours?”

Roman smiles, and it’s the best and worst thing in the world. So much mischief hidden behind those pearly whites. Carnal, salacious plans. “I like to fuck.” His gaze drops down in between her legs. “And eat.”

There’s a bit of anxiety that spurs the minute he starts dragging those luscious lips from her breast down her chest, his teeth pressing against her skin when he bites down on the band of her underwear. Solana’s hands grasp at the sheets as he uses his mouth to rid her of her final piece of clothing.

Eyes darting open, she nearly loses it seeing him bring her panties to his face, his own eyes shutting as he deeply inhales and smirks. “I’m keeping these.”

She doesn’t have time to process how he tosses them to the side redirecting his focus to the dripping mess that is her cunt.

He makes a sound, going to pull his shirt over his head, moving to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Look at this pretty ass pussy. Already nice and wet for me.” His words do something to lessen her anxiety but not as much as she’d like. Getting head has always been a mid experience for her. Cruz was…..okay, nothing to be overjoyed about, and he always acted like it was an inconvenience whenever she asked him to return the favor. Not to mention the fact that he rarely, if ever, made her come from it.

Penetration was also hit or miss.

So, her expectations are pretty low up until that first lick of Roman’s thick tongue that has her nearly jumping off the bed.

“Shit!” Her reaction is a bit embarrassing, most likely more than what’s necessary, but if he’s annoyed by it, he does a damn good job hiding it.

He looks more turned on than anything. Roman’s long, thick fingers are suddenly playing with the mess she’s certain has already dripped on the soft sheets of his bed. “Lay back, and keep these legs open for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

More embarrassment with how quickly and fervently she nods her head, again falling back onto his big bed. Solana moans quietly when she feels his face completely submerged in her drenched cunt.

“Roman…..”

He makes a sound followed by his fingers spreading her folds, revealing her swollen clit to him. “Sweet ass pusssy….”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue how she’s supposed to last these hours he’s referred to at least twice now based upon the fact that his mouth alone has her about to climax and tap out. It’s so unfamiliar and borderline inhuman how he works his tongue on and against her, exploring, licking and sucking every part of her that Cruz has somehow seemed to neglect her.

She has her hand on the back of his head, fisting and undoing his bun, curls cascading around her fist as she presses his face deeper into her.

It’s when he lifts his head, however, beard, chin and mouth soaked with her essence that she truly has to hold it together. “I changed my mind. I want you to watch me.” She’s not sure how and if she can do anything but, Roman’s dark eyes dropping back to her vagina. “Want you to see how good I eat this pussy…..”

Good isn’t the word for it, because the methodical way he alternates between flicking, swirling, sucking, all the while playing with her, one finger, two fingers, moving in and out of her, needs to be studied by all men.

This is how you make a woman come, and she does. All over his face. Solana practically convulses as he laps up every bit of her essence, not once letting up, even as her orgasm rips through her. He’s still sucking on her clit, forcing her to push him away due to the overwhelming sensation of it all.

She’s partially discombobulated as his mouth finds her, letting her sample the remnants of her cum mixed in with their saliva as he taunts, “see how good you taste?” Solana is incapable of answering, among many other things. “Gonna eat you out all fucking night…..”

It’s a promise that has her clit throbbing.

Not as much as it does watching Roman stand up at the edge of the bed and start to undo his pants. She’s unable to look away as he also rids himself of the remaining articles of clothing, her eyes basking in every rippling band of muscle that seems to make up his entire body.

This man is beautiful and strong and ungodly perfect. It feels too good to be true.

But, it’s when he slides his boxers down, his member springing out with hunger and need that her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.

“Oh….”

To be fair, Solana has only had sex with one man, so comparing dicks is a hard thing for her.

No pun intended.

It’s a hard thing, because it’s quite unfair and borderline cruel to even have Roman and Cruz in the same category.

Cruz barely scratches 5’7.

Roman is well over 6ft tall.

Cruz is lean and lithe with some muscle and fat that he’s acquired over the years.

Roman’s muscles have muscles.

Cruz dick is….average, probably a little under average.

Roman’s dick is massive.

The mushroom tip alone, pre-cum oozing through the slit, is enough to have her rethinking this whole thing. She’s not sure even that can get in.

“I don’t…..” And Solana is suddenly forced to endure the most awkward conversation of her life. “How is it supposed to fit?”

A probably silly question if not for the fact she’s genuinely concerned for the state of her vagina right now.

“It’ll fit.” Roman, however, seems unbothered, stroking himself for a minute before he instructs her. “Get on your hands and knees. Hold onto the headboard if you want.” Despite her newfound anxiety, she follows suit, Solana moaning as he glides his tip along her slippery folds. It’s baffling to her how wet she’s been and stayed for him, even with him already making her come once. This man’s presence alone is orgasm inducing. “You just gotta let me stretch this little cunt for you.”

Stretching is one thing. Ripping is an entirely different thing.

“Trust me.” He seems so sure of himself, and she’s not sure why she seems so sure of him too, nodding as she goes back to focusing on holding onto the headboard. A much needed source of support, clearly.

Eyes closed, she hears the ripping of the condom package. Can imagine him sliding that thing over the massive, heated, turgid muscle weighing in his big hand.

She feels one hand gently gliding down her back, settling on her ass cheek where he gives her a little slap. “Just try to relax.”

Much easier said than done.

Still, she says nothing, eyes closing and head nodding.

Now or never.

But, the minute his thick dickhead intrudes her tight opening, they’re both moaning in synchronization. It’s a burning, tight sensation on her part, maybe his as well, but there’s also something pleasurable about it? Something satisfying about the way he carefully works inch by inch of his girthy member inside of her, all the while praising her, goading her, talking her through.

“That’s it. Take this dick like the good girl you are.”

“Come on, baby. Open up for me.”

“Look at how this pussy yielding for me.”

It’s still a tight ass fit, and Solana is partially nervous about what the aftermath will look and feel like. Ice packs, crutches, and Tylenol seem to be in her near future. But, none of that matters once he’s fully seated in her, Solana trying to get used to the feel. So full and filing.

That time of adjustment seems short lived, almost non-existent, because Solana’s body seems to have a mind of its own when she starts moving her ass back on him, prompting him to grab her hips as he starts to thrust into her.

“Shit, girl, knew this pussy would feel amazing, but I didn’t know it would feel this damn good.” His words are accurate and relatable, the discomfort gradually easing into something of pleasure. “Look how good you taking this dick.”

Eyes shut, Solana rocks her big ass back against him, whimpering when he brings hand down and slaps it. “Roman…..”

“That’s right. My name. It’s the only thing I wanna hear leave that pretty mouth of yours.” He intensifies the force of his thrusts, clearly encouraged by how she eagerly throws her ass back on his big dick.

“Fuck, it’s so big…..” The biggest she’s ever had. The best she’s ever had. “But, it feels so good….”

“You like that shit, don’t you, baby?” He’s such a tease, taunting her, throwing in her face how good he’s beating her shit up. Solana hasn’t had sex in almost two years, not since before she found out she was pregnant, and this being her return to such a, now, wonderful thing is one hell of an experience. “Like how I’m stretching this pussy?"

“Fuck, I love it.” Because she does. Her knuckles are practically white from how hard she’s gripping the headboard, because it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming to the heavens. This man is a demond. “So good….”

Roman continues to fuck her from behind, backshots at different angles. Her head forced into the pillow. Hands on the headboard. Hands held behind her back. And each time causes her to reach a new level of heaven.

But, it’s when Roman switches gears, repositioning them so she’s on top, Solana feels emboldened. Being on top with Cruz was always an uncomfortable thing, mostly because he would make comments about her being “too heavy” to ride him.

With Roman, all the man he is, it’s not a concern in the slightest.

She bounces on top of his god-tier dick without a fucking care in the world.

And he seems to feel the same.

“That’s it……” She can feel his eyes burning into her as she rocks down on him, her big breast bouncing back and forth. “Ride my dick just like that, baby. Take what you need.”

And taking is exactly what she’s doing, because if this is a once in a lifetime chance to be fucked, thoroughly fucked by a man like Roman Reigns, she’s going to ride it until the wheels fall off.

Some pun intended.

Roman growls, big hands pressing into her meaty hips. “He can’t never fuck you like this, fill you up like I can.” His lips are hot and pressured against the neck. “He can’t do shit for you that I can.”

She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and not a single lie is being told. “Little ass pussy squeezing the hell out of my big dick.” She moans, pulling his hair as he sucks on her tits, stopping only to again tease her, “you like that shit don’t you?”

She doesn’t stop, just professes all of the wonderful things he and his equally wonderful member are doing for her. “I love it. Fuck, I love it.”

“That’s all you needed. Someone to fuck you nice and right.” Again, it seems this man is incapable of lying, Solana hissing as he squeezes her ass cheeks while his tongue plays with her areola. “Take that stress all out on me, baby. Let me relax you.”

There’s something inherently stressful and relaxing with the way she can’t seem to find the space between reality and fantasy, with how he’s giving her a form of escape she never thought possible. Guiding and talking her to that beautiful point of release. A place she’s never been able to reach before.

Not like this.

Never like this.

And Roman is perceptive, he can see it. Big hands moving up her back, holding her against him, guiding her on top of him. “Come for me, baby.” It’s less a command and more a plea, his voice almost desperate. “Wanna feel you come undone all over me.”

“Mio Dios!”

Solana is squeezing him, her nails pressing into his skin, her head in the crook of his neck as she comes, hard, heavy, overwhelmingly beautiful and chaotic. And his release comes shortly after, Solana enjoying the sensation of his strong, hulking body against hers, the way his face shifts into something so sensual and perfect as he jerks up into her, emptying into the condom.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just long enough for her to start feeling him go soft inside her. That’s when he eventually and carefully lifts her off and lays her down on the mattress, Solana panting and staring at the ceiling. She feels the dip in the bed as he gets up, obviously to dispose of the condom.

It’s only then she realizes that the absence of him inside of her is….noticeable.

A tiny bit of her eager to have it again. To have just one more taste of that deliciousness.

Even if she probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Or ever.

Roman returns to the room, completely unbothered by his nakedness. She readies for him to climb back in the bed with her, maybe even ask her to leave.

But, he doesn’t.

No, he instead moves back to his previous spot at the edge of the bed. Grabbing her by her calves, he starts sliding her down.

“I told you.” Her pussy flutters as he spreads her thighs, face to face with her swollen, puffy pussy. “I’m gonna make the most of the time we have.” And Solana is already moaning, already anticipating another round of insurmountable pleasure. “Starting with you coming in my mouth at least three more times…..”

—-------

It’s a strange, unexpected experience for a lot of different reasons. One, Roman has never really been one to let women ‘stay’ the night. He gets his nut, she gets her, and he sends her on her merry way.

And while Solana isn’t staying the night, she remains in his bed. And not just for sex. He gets her to come again in his mouth twice more before she pushes him away, citing that she needs a break.

He gives her that, but what happens next is….unexpected, to say the least.

Pillow talk.

It’s fucking pillow talk that’s started by her simply running her fingers along his tattoos, asking what they mean and represent. That’s followed up with him asking her about her tattoos, which leads into literally hours of them just laying in bed….talking.

No sex.

Just…..conversation, and normally, Roman would shy away from such a thing like the plague. It’s just never been his thing.

But…..with her…..it’s different.

He enjoys hearing her talk, the things she shares with him, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, how her eyes light up when she discusses her daughter with so much adoration and love. He enjoys her presence, the fact that she treats him like…..like he’s normal.

Like he’s not who he actually is, a large part of that being because she doesn’t know who he is, and that probably needs to change. Will change. Just not right now.

He just wants to enjoy having someone to talk to, and it’s easy with Solana. He doesn’t have to second guess motives or intentions or wonder about what kind of hint she’ll drop about wanting something materialistically from him like Sam.

It’s just easy.

So much so that he ends up having a bit of a hard time with letting her out of bed as 11:20pm rolls around, with her once again reminding him that she needs to be home by midnight. He understands it though, respects her dedication to putting her daughter first.

It’s still a bit of a drag for him, a sense of almost disappointment that she can’t spend the night.

Again, wholly out of his norm.

When they pull up in front of the apartment complex, he finds himself asking, “this is your friend’s place, right?”

The driver has just opened the door for her, but she looks back over her shoulder before climbing out. “Yes, why?”

Roman waits until they’re both standing outside, as he pulls her close to him, enjoying the sight of her wearing his jacket around her body. “Do you need me to take ya’ll home?”

With a soft smile that has him thinking once again about how soft her lips feel pressed against his, she answers, “no, we’ll just stay the night here. It’s late. I don’t want to disturb Raya.”

It’s also way too late for her to be on the road, let alone on public transportation with a baby, hence why he offered.

Pleased with at least that, Roman shares without much thought, “I want to see you again.” And again. And again. And again. Her presence is…..calming in a way he’s not used to.

But, he could certainly get used to.

Mischief sparkles in her pretty eyes. “See me again or see me again?”

“Both.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana knows that. Can see that while he probably desires her sexually as much as she does him, it’s also something different. Something deeper.

It has to be for her to lay in bed with him for hours just talking.

But, she also knows something else, something that she can’t and won’t negate. “Roman, I—I have a child. I can’t—I can’t just sleep around with you like that. I can’t do friends with benefits.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And the honesty continues as he pushes back some of her hair. “I’m just asking you to give this a chance.”

The word this has her stomach tightening as well as the way he’s looking at her. With such authenticity. The same way she’s probably looking at him.

Solana’s volume dips as she shares with just as much honesty. “Soraya is my number one priority.”

He nods. “I respect that.”

“She comes first.”

“She should.”

Solana grows quiet. It’s hard to find a reason to disagree with someone who’s being so amenable, and really, what would be her basis for disagreeing? She’s grown. He’s grown. He’s acknowledging that he recognizes her daughter will always come first. What more does she really need?

What reason does she have to not give this a chance?

“If we do this….” She takes a deep breath, fingers grasping at the soft material of his shirt. “You can’t be with anyone else. You can’t be sleeping with random woman while you’re fucking me.”

Because she went through that once. Ignored the signs because she wanted to be happy.

Never again.

Especially not when it comes to her health.

There’s a bit of hesitation on Roman’s end that she partially understands. She highly doubts this was his first one night stand. “That’s fair,” he finally agrees.

Solana can’t hide her surprise at him not throwing the same stipulation back at her. “You don’t want me agreeing to the same thing?”

Roman chuckles and pulls her into him,“ nobody else could fuck you like I can. You know where it’s at. This the only dick you're gonna ever want now.”

Her cheeks are flushed. “You’re arrogant.”

But not wrong.

And he voices as such. “It’s not arrogance if I can back it up.” She can’t find it in her to disagree or to call him out, because again, there is no disagreement. “I wanna see you this Friday.”

She can’t deny the small spark of excitement at his offer before the weight of reality sets back in. “I was gonna pick up a shift, Roman…..”

He shakes his head, offering, “I’ll give you whatever you’d make on average.” Solana’s eyes widen a bit. It’s one thing that he already snuck a stack of money in her purse when she was redressing to leave. It’s another for him to continue to offer to financially supplement what she would miss out on by being with him.

“Roman, you can’t…..” That’s trailed off by another realization, even if there is still a small smile on her pretty face. “I don’t think I can get a sitter again.”

Another shrug as he says so plainly. “Bring her.” The horrified expression on her face makes him chuckle as he explains, “we won’t fuck. We can go out to eat again and then back to my place. Now, if she happens to fall asleep and we have some time…..”

Solana’s smile remains as he drops his hand to her ass, palming it, reminding her that this man really did keep her underwear. “You’d be okay with that?”

He explains so calmly. “You have a daughter. I’m not going to pretend she doesn’t exist. If we’re going to see where this goes, she has to be included, too.”

It takes her by surprise. The way he’s so easily going along with this. For some reason, Solana always imagined re-entering the dating world would be stressful given her dedication to always putting her child first. Most men these days don’t get that or aren't trying to “deal” with that. And then there’s Roman.

So…..easy.

It’s nice. Very nice.

“How about this?” She moves her hands up his chest, feeling how he tugs her even closer. “We can go grocery shopping, and I’ll cook dinner for us.”

Roman smirks, looking down at her. “I got you cooking for me already?”

She giggles, reminding him. “I like to cook. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything for you.”

“Hmm. That’s fine. There’s a lot of different things I wouldn’t mind doing for you.” She sighs against him as he squeezes her ass again. “Especially to you.”

Solana can’t say she would be opposed to that.

Either of them.

Finally breaking away, she acknowledges, “I need to get inside.”

“Mmmm.”

Her smile is stapled at this point. “Goodnight, Roman.”

His eyes flicker with something. "Goodnight, Solana." She's walking up the steps when she remembers his jacket. Shuffling back over, she attempts to take it off, only for him to reach out and stop her. "Keep it. It's yours." Finger to her chin, Roman rubs his thumb along her still swollen bottom lip. "Just like you're mine now....."

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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ladyloveandjustice · 2 days ago

Text

I finally got around to posting the rest of the fic here! It's finished! I've included an a03 link of the whole thing at the end. @schrodingersauthorii gave me an idea for this part in the comments to this very post!

Part 2

The atmosphere of the meet was a lot nicer than he expected. The other students were kind to him, many complementing them on his sports day performance. The team members and Coach Sakuragi were less, well, mean to each other than the team he’d briefly been part of, cheering each on rather than acting sullen when anyone outperformed them. The coach at his old school had always responded to any mistake with a torrent of frustrated criticism that made Natsume tremble in shame. But Sakuragi never acted disappointed or angry. She came off like she was giving friendly suggestions, and she pointed out what they were doing well at lot too. The team responded to her advice eagerly, rather than fearing her.

It was nice, and Natsume almost wished he was the kind of person who could be a part of this. But he knew himself too well. He’d feel terrible each time he missed out due to being sick or waylaid by yokai. And that would happen a lot. The nicer these people were, the worse he’d feel about letting them down. It didn’t matter if they were fine with it, he wouldn’t be. And to be honest, even if he liked his teammates, he didn’t like thinking about huge crowds watching him, he didn’t like the idea of watching other people cry in frustration when he beat them, any of it.

So when Sakuragi asked him if he wanted to do a practice run with the others, he agreed, all while planning to run much slower than usual. He’d explain to her after that the performance on sports day was a fluke, and he usually wasn’t that fast, and there was no way he’d be able to pull it off consistently. Sakuragi would hopefully stop wanting him to join the team, and even if she still asked him, she and the others wouldn’t feel bad when he turned her down.

He took a deep breath, as he stood at the starting line, closing his eyes and blocking the gaze of Sakuragi and the other students out. If he didn’t imagine a yokai was chasing him, running slower was pretty manageable, and he was experienced enough with doing it in Phys Ed that he knew he could pull it off without looking like he was holding back. It would be fine. He’d be fine.

He got himself into position, taking off when Coach blasted the whistle. He lagged way behind the others, while doing his best to look like he was really giving his all. It was going pretty well, he thought, until he looped around on the track and saw a yokai directly in his path.

It wasn’t a big one, not even coming up to Natsume’s knee. It was black, so it had blended in well with the track. It was sort of blobby and shapeless in form, like an inkstain, with beady eyes and a wiggly head.

Natsume’s heart raced and his mouth went dry. It might look small, but he knew better than anyone not to trust a yokai’s appearance. It could be dangerous. Was it here to get the Book of Friends, or was it trying to do something to the people here? It didn’t matter. He had to do something. He couldn’t just slow down, that would give it time to attack.

Instead, he vaulted over the creature. His ankle twisted under him when he landed. He fell, knees and hands scraping the ground. He immediately sprang to his feet and ran as fast he could. He had to lead it away from everyone else.

His sneakers pounded on the rubber and intense vibrations raced through him with each step. It felt like his bones were shuddering. Somone was calling his name, but it was muffled and distant, everything was. He has no room in his brain for anything but his goal. I have to protect the people here. I have to protect the Book of Friends. He crossed the finish line and veered into the grass, ready to grab his bag and sprint out of school grounds. But he looked over his shoulder, he saw the blobby yokai hadn’t moved after him at all. It had simply flattened and spread out on the ground. It’s eyes were closed.

Was it…taking a nap?

Relief filled Natsume as he skidded to a stop. Yes, it was sleeping. Its breathing was even, and as sounds came back to him, he could hear some faint snoring. But he also heard something else, which was Coach Sakuragi screaming at him.

“NATSUME! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? WHY WOULD YOU RUN ON A SPRAINED ANKLE?” She shouted while running toward him.

Sprained…? Natsume looked down and saw his ankle was swelling. Suddenly, intense pain shot through his leg, his ankle folded under him, and he crumpled. Sakuragi caught him under his arms before he could hit the ground. She lifted him up easily.

Wow, she’s strong, Natsume thought dazedly. Bet I look pretty pathetic right now. He could see students had gathered around to stare at him, expressions worried or shocked. One girl called “Are you okay??”

“Y-yeah,” he said as his mind screamed in humiliation.

Sakuragi could have probably carried him, but thankfully she chose to simply pull his arm over shoulder. “Don’t stand on that ankle, keep it raised.” She commanded. She turned to the cluster of team members. “We need the chairs, the ice bag from the cooler, and the first aid kit. Go get them.”

The student’s responded quickly, three of them running off.

Soon they all came back with all the supplies, including two folding chairs. Sakuragi eased him into a chair. Natsume couldn’t help groaning in pain when a student propped up his leg on the chair in front of him, resting his ankle on a folded towel. Sakuragi quickly cleaned out the minor scrapes on his hands and knees with some medicine.

Natsume hated that he was disrupting the entire track meet and making so many people fuss over him, but he knew protesting would be ungrateful, so he softly thanked the other students instead. They smiled back at him.

Sakuragi placed the ice bag on his ankle. Natsume sighed in relief as the numbing cold broke through the pain.

Sakuragi bent down to examine his foot. “It don’t think it’s broken, but you’re going to need to check it with a hospital. It’s badly sprained because of all the weight you put on it. Hopefully you didn’t tear the ligament completely.”

“A-a hospital?” Natsume’s stomach dropped. That was really going to worry Touko and Shigeru. He felt so stupid, putting them through all this because a harmless yokai was taking a nap.

Sakuragi straightened up and clapped her hands. “Okay, this isn’t a show, people. Give us some space and get back to practice.”

The team dispersed, and Sakuragi crossed her arms, frowning down at him. Natsume winced, thinking she was going to yell again. Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Natsume.” she said calmly. “I don’t understand what you were thinking. This was just a practice run. Your first one, too. I’ve seen students try to run on injuries before, but this wasn’t even an actual race!”

Natsume’s looked at his ankle, which was rapidly turning purple, burning with shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to apologize. I just want to know what’s going on. Why did you run on that ankle?”

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just kind of…instinct?” Natsume said. He instantly realized that how weird that sounded, and so, apparently, did Sakuragi.

“Instinct?” Her frown deepened and her eyebrows drew together. “Your instinct is to keep running even when you’re hurt?”

“No, no, it’s not like that, I’m just used to—!” He snapped his mouth shut.

What was wrong with him? He was usually better at covering things up. He’d almost said he was used to having to run while injured. He’d twisted his ankle running from yokai plenty of times, and at some point he’d learned to just block out the pain until he got to safety. But obviously he couldn’t tell the coach that. He desperately searched for another way to end the sentence, but before he could, the coach bent over, looking him directly in the eye.

“Natsume, you looked very frightened when that “instinct” kicked in. Like you were being chased down. Are you used to being chased? Is it something that happens a lot?”

Natsume’s blood froze. Did she know? Why? How? What was going on? His ankle was throbbing so badly now, it was hard to think the haze of pain. His breathing got faster, his ears buzzed… He had to say something, anything to throw her off…

Sakuragi put her hand gently on his shoulder, “Natsume, you can tell me anything. Is it someone who goes to this school? Or even more than one person? Have they been hurting you? I know it’s scary to talk about it, but I promise I can help–”

Natsume’s shoulders slumped as relief flooded him. She’d was asking if people were chasing him. Obviously she’d meant people. What was wrong with him? Sure, his ankle felt like it was being hit repeatedly with a giant hammer, but that was no excuse to lose his head.

Doing his best to come off as relaxed, he said “Oh, It’s not like that, Sensei, you don’t need to worry. People don’t chase me at all anymore.”

Sakuragi narrowed her eyes. “Anymore?”

He clearly should just stop talking forever. Maybe he’d sprained his brain along with his ankle.

Yes, he’d been chased by people, of course he had. And not just enthusiastic track coaches. He’d had to run away from plenty of classmates looking to teach the liar a lesson. Running from bullies was usually a lot easier than running from most yokai though, since people eventually tired out. He’d only been caught a few times.

At least this slip up didn’t put his secret in danger, it just made every inch of him cringe. He didn’t want to talk about any of this with her. But he had to make her understand everything was okay. Even if it meant embarrassing himself.

“Sensei, ever since I moved here, things have been so much better. People are so kind to me, my friends are amazing, the Fujiwaras are so warm and giving…” He ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. “I feel like I belong here. Actually belong. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be….”

Sakuragi was listening to him intently, and when he trailed off, she smiled at him. “I’m glad to hear that. Sorry for the interrogation.”

She took some bandages out of the first aid kit and started wrapping his ankle with a steady practiced hand. “It sounds running is really connected to some… difficult experiences for you. I’m a teacher who’s supposed to look out for you. I shouldn’t have pressured you to run. I should have listened and understood your feelings. I apologize.”

“No no, it’s not your fault Sensei, you’re honestly the nicest track coach I’ve ever—"

But his reassurance was cut off by a shout, “Natsume! What happened?!”

Natsume looked over his shoulder, and saw Nishimura, Tanuma, Taki, Kitamoto and Sasada all coming around the corner of school building

What the heck are they doing here? His stomach dropped at the expressions of worry on their faces. Nishimura led the pack as they rushed toward him.

“How did you get hurt already?!” Nishimura exploded the second he was within talking range. “It’s been fifteen minutes since school let out! Fifteen! I bet you were doing some kind of crazy thing again, don’t you realize-?”

“Nishimura, calm down,” Kitamoto said, smacking his arm. “But seriously, Natsume, what happened?”

“I—"

“Did somebody trip you?” Sasada asked, fixing the scattered team members with a hawklike glare while they looked baffled in response. “Are there bullies here?”

“No—”

“It’s not broken, is it?” Nishimura was wincing as he looked at the ankle. “It looks so swollen—”

“Guys!” Taki cut him off. “Why don’t we stop freaking out and let Natsume get a word in edgewise?”

“Well said. I know you’re worried, give him the chance to explain,” Sakuragi said in a slightly amused tone.

Nishimura, Sasada, and Kitamoro jolted, like they hadn’t noticed the teacher before.

“Sorry, Sensei,” Sasada said immediately, bowing her head,

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to yell at you, Natsume,” Nishimura mumbled.

Tanuma, who’d been quietly watching, stepped up and put his hand on Natsume’s shoulder. It was a timid, gentle touch, but Natsume could feel the weight of Tanuma’s concern through it. He smiled reassuringly at him, and then looked at the others.

“I just tripped, guys, that’s really all. I was doing a practice run and I stumbled and twisted my ankle. Though I, uh, also…” He was going to freak them out if he told them he’d kept running on it, and he wasn’t sure how he’d explain it, but—

“He also bumped it a bit while I was guiding him to his chair,” Sakuragi cut him off, giving him a small smile. “That one was my fault.”

Natsume blinked at her, shocked she’d covered for him. She shook her head at him slightly as if to say ‘Just this once’.

“See, Nishimura?” Kitamoto elbowed him. “You of all people can’t be mad at him for tripping!”

“Yeah…” Nishimura said sheepishly.

“No, I’m really sorry for worrying you all,” Natsume said, guilt racing through him. “But, uh, what are you guys even doing here?

“We wanted to support you. The plan was just to meet you when you were done and walk home together,” Taki said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before,” Tanuma squeezed Natsume’s shoulder slightly, looking bashful. “You just seemed kind of stressed about it, and I was a little… It was a last minute decision. I was thinking if you wanted to, we could even hang out at my place. I probably overstepped.”

‘It was one of those times his friends’ kindness and care filled him up so much he thought he would burst. Those times where he wondered how he’d found people like them after all these years. When he ached to give them even a fragment of what they’re given him.

“No…” Natsume said, hoping he didn’t sound choked up, “No, I would have liked that, thanks.”

“That’s really sweet,” Sakuragi said with a grin, resuming with wrapping Natsume’s ankle. But then her grin dropped, and she looked at Nishimura questioningly. “Does he get hurt a lot?”

“Kind of. It’s all because he’s reckless, Sensei. He doesn’t think things through!”

“A lot of time he’s trying to help someone, though,” Tanuma said hastily. “It’s not his fault, really.”

“You always go way too easy on him, Tanuma. But yeah, he’ll do things like shove a girl out of the way when a bunch of heavy boxes are falling on her and get conked in the head. He’s too good a guy—"

“Come on, you’re embarrassing him,” Taki admonished, which immediately silenced Nishimura.

Sakuragi seemed to relax at this, and she finished up wrapping Natsume’s ankle. “Okay! Now, can one of you go fetch crutches from the nurse’s office?” Sakuragi took a key out of the first aid box and tossed at Nishimura, who caught it with a startled expression. Kitamoto went with him. Sasada looked around awkwardly, and then did a double take.

“Chiyo, what are you doing here?” Sasada’s hand immediately jumped to her hair, and she started twirling a lock around her finger.

The short-haired girl walked up, wiping her neck with a towel and flashing Sasada a crooked grin. “The track team lets me practice with them sometimes. Gotta train to beat you next time. What this I hear about you threatening everyone and calling them bullies?”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, now I remember, Natsume, that’s your friend, no wonder you were all aggro!” Chiyo waved at Natsume, who waved awkwardly back. “Sorry she’s so overprotective, man. She means well.”

“You—come on!” Sasada grabbed the other girl’s hand and dragged her away. Chiyo looked unreasonably happy about this.

Sakuragi had stepped away to chat with some other students too. Taki squatted next to Natsume and Tanuma leaned closer to him.

“Was there yokai trouble?” Tanuma whispered.

Natsume shook his head. “Not really. I basically overreacted. I saw a little yokai on the track, freaked out because I thought it was dangerous, and tripped. It’s harmless, though. It was just napping. I feel pretty stupid.”

“Did anyone notice anything?”

“Yeah, they noticed I was acting really weird. Especially Coach Sakuragi. She’s…intense.”

“Oh, I should have warned you about that,” Taki sighed. “It’s really hard to keep a secret from her, especially if she thinks you’re struggling. Her heart’s in the right place, though.”

Natsume nodded. “I can tell. I feel bad that I worried her. I ended up saying some bizarre things while I was trying to throw her off. I think she thinks I’m traumatized from my childhood or something now.”

Tanuma cleared his throat and looked away. Taki studied her shoes carefully.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Natsume asked, trying to figure out if he’s said anything strange.

“Nothing,” Taki said quickly. “Hey, what does the little yokai look like?” She looked off in the wrong direction.

“Oh, uh…kind of blob-like…” he squinted at the sleeping yokai, examining it more closely. “Oh wow, I couldn’t pick it out before but it has ears actually, Oh, they’re kind of shaped like cat ears…”

Takis gasped excitedly “Is it cute?”

“Uh…maybe ugly cute?”

“Then it’s cute,” Taki said firmly. “I wish I could see it.”

Natsume suddenly realized that it was probably for the best Taki couldn’t see yokai, otherwise she’d be terrorizing every weird looking little monster non-stop.

Tanuma looked around at the team members looping the track, as others chatted and laughed on the sidelines. “Were you having a good time with everyone? You know, before everything happened?”

“Yeah…it was nice. Everyone was really great. I feel bad I ruined things.”

“You didn’t—"

“We’re back!” Kitamoto and Nishimura arrived carrying the crutches.

A shock of pain went up Natsume’s leg like lightning when Tanuma and Sakuragi eased him onto his crutches, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. He couldn’t worry everyone even more.

“Okay, you’re good to go now,“ Sakuragi said to him. "But make sure your parents to get you checked at the hospital right away. I will be asking Ms. Fujiwara about that our weekly grocery store chats.”

Natsume nodded meekly, filled with dread at the thought of Touko’s panic and distress. At the same time, he noticed she’d called the Fujiwaras his parents…not foster parents or guardians…just parents. It kind of felt nice. Really nice.

Sasada was still talking with Chiyo, laughing and swatting at her playfully. She noticed that Natsume was up, and reluctantly pulled away, giving Chiyo’s hand a quick squeeze before she left.

Sakuragi smiled as Sasada rejoined the group, observing all of Natsume’s friends clustered around him. “Take care of him, all right?”

“Don’t worry, Sensei, we won’t let anything happen to him,” Nishimura said confidently.

“We’ve got his back!” Kitamoto assured her.

“He helps us a lot. It’s the least we can do.” Tanuma chimed in unexpectedly.

“Of course!” Sasada and Taki finished things off.

Natsume stared at the ground, hoping nobody could see the expression on his face. Taki patted him on the back.

“You’re right, you do have good friends.” Sakuragi ruffled Natsume’s hair. “Do you need me to get you a ride home? Or can your parents come get you?”

“Oh, it’s fine, I can just walk.”

“You’re seriously going to try to hobble all the way to the Fujiwaras?” Taki asked severely.

“Okay, maybe to the bus stop…”

“That’s not coming for another hour.” Sasada tapped her watch. “You can’t wait that long.”

“The Fujiwaras don’t have a car, right?” Nishimura said. “My parents have a car, and Mom should be home. I’ll call her to pick us up.” He pulled out his cellphone, glaring at it. “If I can ever get service in this stupid town…can’t believe I begged for a phone and it’s useless…”

“Nishimura, no, I don’t want to drag your Mom into this…” Natsume said in a panic. “I really can just—”

“Natsume.” Tanuma said quietly but firmly, holding out his arm in front of him before he could hobble away. Natsume’s voice died in his throat.

“My Mom would be mad at me if I didn’t call her about this” Nishimura held his phone high in the air, face screwed up in concentration.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you get your nosiness from her,” Kitamoto said lightly.

“Man, shut up. Aha! I got some bars!” And just like that, Nishimura was on the phone with his Mom, and Natsume could do nothing to protest it.

Sakuragi laughed and started to turn away. “Great, I’ll see you—”

“Sensei, wait,” Natsume called quickly.

She stopped, looking at him questioningly.

“I just wanted I wanted to say, I did have fun here. And, well, I don’t think I can join the team but…would it be all right if I came here once in a while? Just to practice, or I could help with whatever… unless that’s…"

Sakuragi’s face split into a huge grin. “Of course, Natsume! Just having someone like you to race against is a huge help! But are you sure you–?”

Natsume nodded. “I want to.”

“Well then, do your best to heal up and we’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Nishimura got off the phone. “Mom said to wait out front. We’ll head to the bench just outside the entrance.”

Waving goodbye to Sakuragi, Natsume’s friends flanked him as he slowly made his way around the school building.

“I’m happy for you, Natsume,” Taki said.

“Yeah, that’s cool that you’ll have a place to practice!” Kitamoto agreed.

Thanks,” Natsume said. “I’m sorry I ruined the plans to get snacks and hang out…but maybe we could do it another time? Touko would probably be okay with you all coming over.”

“Of course!”

They all busied themselves planning the get-together until they reached the bench out front, though Nishimura was oddly quiet.

After Natsume sat down, his friends gave their well wishes and reminded him to check in with them after the hospital, before dispersing to walk home. Taki caught up with Sasada and as they walked away, Natsume heard her say “So you and that Chiyo girl, huh? Do I detect some romance?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sasada said primly.

“Come on, it’s me. Come over to my place and tell me all about it.

“Fiiiine, if I must.”

Natsume laughed slightly. He looked over at Nishimura to see his reaction, but for once in his life, he didn’t seem interested in what Taki was doing. He was staring stonily into the distance.

“Nishimura, is something wrong–?”

“I’m sorry, Natsume,” he said abruptly, still not really looking at him.

“Huh? What are you sorry about?” He wondered if Nishimura was still feeling guilty about yelling earlier, and was prepared to reassure him, but—

“You’re hurt because of me.”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Natsume couldn’t help but laugh but stopped when Nishimura glared at him.

“It’s because of me. You don’t like running in front of people, I know that, but then you had to because I screwed up. And when you were talking to the coach, I could tell you were nervous, I could tell you didn’t want to go. And instead of returning the favor and helping you, I pushed you to do it anyway.” He put his head in his hands. “It was such shitty thing to do.”

“Nishimura, come on, you didn’t–

“I did. You were trying to say no, you can’t pretend you weren’t.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I just…got carried away because you were so cool when you won the race! And you’re kind of down on yourself sometimes,…so I thought maybe if you joined the track team, you’d see how amazing what you can do is and people would see you’re…ugh, it was stupid.”

Natsume’s cheeks burned. “That’s.. it sounds like you were really thinking of me, Nishimura, thank you—"

“No, don’t thank me!” Nishimura said fiercely. “I wasn’t looking out for you or your feelings at all, I just decided what I wanted for you without asking you. And God, I didn’t even think about injuries!”

Natsume stared at him in bafflement. “Why would you need to think about injuries? It’s not like I need special protection. I knew what I was getting into. People get hurt in sports all the time. It’s normal.”

“No, it’s different with you.” Nishimura slammed his hands down on knees, red blotches spreading on his face. “Because when you get hurt, you downplay it or try to hide it, and if you do that in track, it can mess you up for life!” Nishimura was talking faster and faster, the words just pouring out of his mouth. “It’s dangerous because you act like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t matter, and that you don’t get why we all care so much, and I know it’s because you’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to pry, but it makes me so—“

He stopped short, blanching. “Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say all that. U-uh, sorry, just forget it, It’s none of my business…”

A lump formed in Natsume’s throat as shame welled up, hot and bitter on his tongue. “No, I’m sorry, Nishimura,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t realize you were thinking all that, that you were worried. I never wanted to—”

“Natsume, no, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I know it’s not on purpose, I know it’s not your fault.” Nishimura pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is about me saying sorry, not you. I really am sorry. And I know you told Sakuragi you wanted to come back once in a while because you didn’t want to disappoint her, but you don’t have to go back there, I’ll talk to her—”

“You don’t have to talk to her.” Natsume swallowed his shame for now, determined to set things straight. “I liked the team. I really do want to come back.”

“You don’t have to pretend, I told you, don’t lie if you don’t have to—”

“Nishimura,” Natsume interjected gently, putting his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Nishimura finally looked over at him, eyes downcast. “It made me really happy. When we won, and everyone was cheering, and I saw how excited you were…I don’t know. Running is just something I do sometimes, and I don’t think it’s special or particularly like it. But being able to help you was the first time I felt like it was something…more.” More than survival. More than something I’m forced to do.

“Really…?” Nishimura hesitated, looking disbelieving.

“Really. And I really am glad I came here. I enjoyed it, you know, until I tripped. But even then, everyone was nice and helped me. It made me want to come back.”

Nishimura stared at him for a while, expression unreadable. Then he sighed and leaned back. “Okay, well, good.” Natsume could see Nishimura’s shoulders slump as the tension drained out of him. “But I still pushed you. You don’t have to make excuses for me. I’m just sorry I did it and I won’t do it again.”

“Okay, apology accepted.”

Nishimura looked startled, like he’d expected Natsume to keep fighting him on this, then his face broke into a grin. “Thanks, man.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for me either. I’m sorry I’ve been stressing you guys out when I get hurt. I’ll stop hiding it or trying to downplay it. I mean, I do want all of you to understand I…” Natsume knew better than to say he was “used to it” now, so he searched around for a less alarming but still honest way to phrase it. “I have a high pain tolerance, so sometimes it really doesn’t seem like a big deal.

“Dude, that doesn’t make me feel better.” He could tell from how Nishimura looked at him he’d heard the “I’m used to it” even though Natsume hadn’t said it out loud.

“No, I know. Look, from now on, I’ll admit when something hurts.” He looked down at his ankle, wincing. “Like my ankle really hurts right now. I don’t want to go to the hospital but I’m kind of looking forward to getting painkillers.” He looked over at Nishimura. “Did that work? Or did it just sound whiney?”

“Nah, you need to whine a little more, man.” Nishimura punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m telling you, it feels good. When I sprained my ankle a couple years ago, I whined to everyone I knew. That whine was weak. Try harder.”

“It’s…uh, agony. I…might die? Was that good.”

“You need to work on your delivery, but it’s a start.”

They both laughed. Just laughing soothed something in Natsume, his stomach unknotted, and his racing heartbeat slowed. His ankle even hurt a little less.

When the laughter settled, Natsume looked down, twisting his fingers in his lap. “Look, I know I… kind of lie and hide things as reflex a lot. But I’ve been trying to be more open with the people I care about.”

Nishimura shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, Kitamoto and I aren’t that stupid, we know there’s something going on with you, but you can take as much time as you need. I know you must have your reasons.”

“Thanks.”

Nishimura chuckled suddenly, looking past Natsume.

“Uh oh, here comes your cat. He looks mad! It’s almost like he knows something happened.”

Nyanko-sensei was indeed stomping towards them, his eyes narrowed.

“Agh, I’m really in trouble this time,” Natsume said. Nyanko-sensei jumped into his lap, making sure to throw his heavy weight around as he landed. “Oof.”

“Oh, your troubles have just begun. Don’t forget Touko!” Nishimura said cheerfully.

“Like I could.”

“I wouldn’t use the “I could die” line on her, she might believe you.”

“Amazing advice, thank you.”

Nishimura smirked. “I’d tell you to run, but, you know.”

Mmm…” Natsume said, stroking Nyanko-sensei, who was making faint, irritated noises. “That’s okay. There are some things I don’t want to run away from.

---

I hope you enjoyed this! It was way longer than I thought it would be. And I wish I could have made it funnier. But I had a fun time with my first Natsume fic!

I often think about how incredibly fit Natsume must be, yokai-induced sickliness aside. He spends 75% of his life running from yokai, through forests and mountains and all kinds of shit. Every day is a marathon for him, he arguably gets too much exercise (which might contribute to collapsing from exhaustion a lot. over exercising isn't good for you).

But imagine what a fast runner he must be. He's able to sometimes lose yokai despite their supernatural speed etc. And he's been doing this since he's a child? I just want an episode where it's time for track in gym class and everyone's expecting the kid who's constantly sick and exhausted to be the slowest one, but instead he just passes them all at warp speed. WHEN did he have time to get this in shape, isn't he always inches away from keeling over, his class in chaos. Nishimura and Kitamoto are the least surprised since they've seen him running before, but even they didn't think he was THIS fast., wow, what natural talent.

Actually, there should be a running gag where one of the many stressors Natsume faced over the years is track team coaches trying to constantly recruit him in most of the schools he goes to, so he's constantly trying to hide how fast he is because he can't be a burden and have the people he's living with PAY SPORTS EXPENSES omg :(( and also he wouldn't be able to show up for most of the meetings, so. And also he doesn't like most team sports (the real reason).

He's managed to keep it mostly under wraps in Yatsuhara, but then one day it's the sports day episode and Nishimura trips while carrying the baton as they always do and starts crying so Natsume's like "siiiiiiiigh fine don't worry Nishimura I've got this" and suddenly he's at the finish line. Thus his hellish lot of being hounded by the track coach begins anew, thanks a lot Nishimura.

#natsume's book of friends #fanfic #my fanfic

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hunter470 · 2 days ago

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My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply.

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen.

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want.

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said.

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending.

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last.

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong.

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time.

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job.

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess.

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

#911 discourse #911 show #911 spoilers #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 general audience

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argentimybeloved · 3 days ago

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I have winter exams starting tomorrow so time to have random thoughts of some of my fav hsr characters helping me get through it :3

Can be seen as romantic or platonic

Good luck to anyone with exams coming up!!

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Argenti would totally check in on you. Giving you water and snacks every hour or so and making sure you aren't over working yourself. If you happen to fall asleep at your desk he'll carry you to bed.

If studying happens to become very stressful to you he's quick to pull you away and urge you to relax. These exams may be important to you, but your more important to him. He can't stand to see you upset about these exams and ignoring your needs. So he'll take care of you.

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Boothill I feel would defo try to get you to relax. Of course not make you completely forget about your studies but he knows that if you spend too much time studying w/o a break. That in itself could be a problem

He knows you should study, especially if these exams are important to you, but there should always be time for yourself to relax your mind. So if he thinks you've been overworking yourself too much or have spent to many hours with no break studying? You bet he's dragging your ass out for a nice walk

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Dr Ratio helps you. I mean he is a teacher. He's able to help. He'll slow down, he'll write, he'll do whatever it takes for you to understand the topic and be confident in your exams. Of course I feel he'll still be strict but if he sees you're struggling he wants to help.

He may be strict but he genuinely wants to help, in any way possible. If it means taking it slow or using visual references so be it. He wants to make sure you go into that exam with as little stress as possible. And whatever grade you get he'll be proud of you because he knows you tried. And that's all that matters to me, that you tried.

He'll still be proud of you

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Imagine sleeping on Jing Yuans chest or lap after a long day of studying and/or exams. He'd let you. He's probably sleeping as well honestly. You deserve the sleep anyways, to relax your body after a stressful day

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Dan Heng defo also helps you study. He sees what you're struggling on the most and spends time teaching you so you can grasp it, even just a little. He'll give you small tests. Nothing too long, maybe 10-20 minutes. On different chapters you're going to be tested on. He checks them and goes through the ones you got wrong. Slowly you'll seen an improvement as the cycle of him teaching you the topics you didn't know, getting a small test and seeing where you went wrong repeats.

I'd love to hug him after a long day exams and just be held by his tail ngl, he might let that happen

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mermaidgirl30 · 19 hours ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕

Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin.

You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that.

Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight.

Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving.

Live.

Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason.

Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…

That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel.

You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.

You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush.

Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.

Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity.

Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore.

You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope.

And that something is Joel.

You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words.

Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try.

The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad.

They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop.

But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…

You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent.

You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been.

You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you.

It’s too fucking much.

Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before.

Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle.

Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight.

Holy shit.

Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace.

This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind.

You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything.

You could get lost in here.

Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”

When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm.

He’s warm.

“These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book.

“All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now.

“This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days.

He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost.

“You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into.

“I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable.

A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”

“Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.

“Really,” he nods with a smile.

“Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

“Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.”

You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.

Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window.

“Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.

“Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.

“You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room.

“I used to. A long time ago.”

You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.

He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.

“Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind.

“‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind.

He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories.

“Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up.

His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest.

He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”

When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar.

There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what.

Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop.

This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask.

Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.

When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.

Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day.

Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.”

You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”

He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets.

Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”

“Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you.

You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”

You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you.

Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”

“Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.”

“Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.

“Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips.

And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store.

You can do this. Fight the fear.

Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”

Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself.

You can do this.

Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second.

The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine.

“Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.

“Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.

“That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public.

“You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song.

“Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.

The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater.

“Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.

You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”

The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

“I’ll take you back.”

Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

“What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face.

He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

“Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.

He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.

“Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.

He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”

“Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.

“What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”

You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”

“‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”

And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”

He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”

You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters?

“There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met.

He thinks you’re important.

“Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart.

He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.

It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.

You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.”

“What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose?

“They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”

His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”

You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it.

You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”

“Is he still…”

“He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”

The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave.

He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.

“That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”

You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this…

Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”

It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.

His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”

You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day.

You don’t have to be alone anymore.

The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you.

He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…

After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot.

The parking lot…

It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…

“Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone.

You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.

“N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death.

You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go.

Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot.

Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”

“Joel… I…”

“Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing.

“That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you.

“I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish.

You’re pathetic.

“S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are.

But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…

You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat.

Warm. He’s so warm.

After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”

He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”

He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”

He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.

You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.

As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”

“Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”

Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind.

As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”

You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace.

Warm. He’s so warm.

You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom.

So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.

“Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.

He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”

“Mhm,” you hum back.

A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now.

“Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel.

“Joel…” you reply back leery.

“You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.

You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”

He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.

When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”

You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.

You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.

“Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time.

You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home.

“There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears.

Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”

It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.

“You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

“Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down.

“See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return.

When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember.

“I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”

You’re so brave. He called you brave.

The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems.

You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him.

“Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.

Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”

“Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”

“You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.

“Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.

“Okay,” you whisper.

You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.

When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.

Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”

You can do this.

Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.

“Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.

“Always.”

You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist.

Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still.

“You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him.

“Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes.

“Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

“Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again.

He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

“No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.

“Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.

“Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.

“Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”

Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”

You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue.

I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know.

Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds.

He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.

The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are.

At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries.

He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first.

He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.

You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one.

Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.

Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.

With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth.

Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving.

Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”

You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you.

Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get.

What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay.

Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want.

When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind.

A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that.

Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh.

“Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”

You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”

“No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”

Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?”

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”

He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”

He’s proud of you.

“I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”

He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”

“Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body.

It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”

Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows.

“Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.

“Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.

“Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment.

It looks better on you.

You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body.

He gave you his flannel.

Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?”

“Ice cream?”

“Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.

“Whatever for?” you giggle.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.

“Well, yes. But…”

“I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”

You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”

“The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is.

You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man?

“What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does.

No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.

“You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”

“And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”

He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”

Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.

He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.

“I’d love some ice cream.”

“Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window.

“Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“I think you’d like it,” you chirp.

He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”

As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.

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@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #healing fic

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crimson-and-clover-1717 · 3 days ago

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Ed’s Initial Intentions regarding Stede

Thank you so much for your attention to the poll. The consensus is it’s complicated - and I sort of agree - although I’m swayed towards Fascination alone.

This is my interpretation…

Stede causes Ed to access hidden or denied parts of himself before they’ve even met. And it causes a change in Ed’s behaviour. Ed’s come across many rich or aristocratic folks to rob whom he would see killed without issue; but not someone who’s also a pirate, doing their own original thing, and who seems ambivalent towards Blackbeard’s existence. It’s dopamine to Ed’s novelty-starved brain. It’s not as if Ed carries out a usual raid on the Revenge intending to kill Stede, only to find himself unexpectedly charmed. Ed’s bewitched even before he meets Stede, which means Ed’s entire approach and thought-processes are altered.

Killing Stede and the crew isn’t necessarily off the table should the need arise, but I don’t think it’s actively on in any capacity. There’s no plan, and there’s no ‘uszh’ for once either. Because none of this is uszh. Ed’s engagement with the Revenge is not his normal MO. History’s most brilliant tactician is free-styling. Possibly free-falling.

At the end of 102, Izzy states, ‘Captain says follow that ship.’ And Fang answers ‘Oh really? Why?’ To which Izzy replies, ‘How should I know? The man’s half-insane.’ This conversation shows this isn’t usual strategy. Even Fang asks why - he thought they’d seen the last of those ‘fancyboys’. And Ivan’s sad he didn’t get the chance to murder them, which seems the usual way of things. Plus they’d already had the chance to take or plunder the ship when it ran aground, so this stalking manoeuvre is out of the ordinary. It feels like wasted time and energy.

By the start of episode three, Blackbeard’s ship is a few hundred yards out from the Revenge, and Izzy’s trying to manipulate Ed into usual strategy again by suggesting opening fire, or boarding and throwing the Revenge crew to the sharks. Instead, Ed wants to wait until they make landfall and invite them aboard his ship. Ed’s doing something very different again because he’s unwittingly engaging with an unfamiliar part of himself. And interestingly ‘Go suck eggs in Hell’ appears not to insult, but to somewhat seduce him further. Before meeting Stede, he’s already out of his depth emotionally, and acting out of character, literally.

Despite what Ed would do normally, I just cannot see him landing on the Revenge with the active intent of plundering the ship and / or killing Stede and the crew. His words and actions suggest he’s already through the looking-glass.

So, to The Plan. We have three interesting moments which lead up to its revelation: the clothes swap, ‘careful of your face’ and ‘show me the ways of an aristocrat’.

For me, the three strands, which have no previous connection (other than Ed and Stede playing together), come together in Ed’s mind somewhere between Ed leaving Stede on the lookout, and Ed speaking with Izzy below: a matter of seconds. It reminds me of Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects, pulling together disparate ideas into a cohesive story spontaneously. It’s the mind of a quick-thinker. And it’s in-keeping with Ed’s ability of reacting in the moment to the moment when necessary.

I think Ed also feels forced to perform Blackbeard for Izzy because Izzy’s threatening to leave pushes on that white father-figure emotional bruise. At this stage, Ed doesn’t have enough emotional loyalty to Stede to not voice such a plan; whilst his identity is still too caught in Izzy’s web to let him go - ‘you’re needed here’. For me, the plan to kill Stede is brought about in the moment via an act of psychological coercive control.

But Ed’s also kicking the can down the road. It’s a sort of Faustian bargain. Why not promise Izzy both their souls if it means Ed and Stede can hang out a little longer? Yet on another level Ed’s possibly hoping the debt won’t be called in, such is the complexity of the push and pull here. He’s putting it on the tab, the never-never. He’ll out-manoeuvre it if he decides that’s what he wants. Of course there’s doublethink going on because Ed’s in the middle of an identity crisis.

Ed daren’t admit his real reason for wanting to stay on the Revenge. He can’t comprehend himself even how deep this goes. His look as he turns is one of exhaustion and confusion. Stede Bonnet has him rattled. What started as a trickle of unease and ennui before they’d even met is now a whirlpool of unidentifiable feelings around both Stede, and Ed’s own perception of self.

Ed’s free-falling in liminal space.

#ed teach #stede bonnet #104 #the plan #faustian bargains #doublethink #identity crisis #liminal space #ofmd meta #ofmd

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fatcatlittlebox · 2 days ago

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I find the recent comments from showrunners Payne and McKay interesting particularly when they state that Sauron did not want to kill Galadriel in the finale duel but for her to acknowledge him and "give him credit." Now why would that matter so much to him if not for the possibility that what he had done was done so with her in mind? Meaning, Sauron was thinking of Galadriel this whole time. His return to Mordor, the rings, his conquest. They are the broad strokes to the greater masterpiece he is shaping for her. She is his inspiration. She is his audience. Which brings me back to the theme of eyes. His eyes and hers. Eyes that see and look. The Eye is the mark of Sauron. But more than anything he wants Galadriel to see him. I made this last gifset to illustrate how this is the focus of Sauron's obsession and motivation.

Throughout his existence so far, he has been gifted and plagued by his ability to shapeshift and change form at will. He "has had many names." You see how this weighs upon his soul. He has had too many names. He has worn so many faces to too many people. He’s weary and the burden of not being seen for so many years, thousands - he almost comes apart.

This is why he desperately longs for Galadriel to see him. Not as the “abhorred” but as himself. Because to be seen is to be whole. To have one, true name even if it isn't uttered aloud. This is what Adar asked of Galadriel and I think it's meant to reflect Sauron as well. The difference is that Adar embraced the name he had earned while Sauron rejects his. Sauron hates his earned name because it is a constant reminder of how alone and misunderstood he feels in his purpose. That is until he meets Galadriel. She doesn’t abhor “Halbrand.” She loves him. She sees him. To her he is “friend" and "king."

"Galadriel. Look at me.” I believe that she did fall in love with the real him and he knows it. It's why he will always keep “Halbrand.” He will linger in the memories of when Galadriel knew him this way. That's why he continues to look like some variation of Halbrand. Because that's how Galadriel saw him. This the illusion he created for himself and one he is reluctant to leave. As long as she can see him. Just the possibility and the hope.

And while Galadriel can claim fondness for the part of him that was soft, vulnerable and human, that is not all she fell for. And Sauron won't let her get away with excusing herself or denying that she loved the parts that were truly him. This gesture, when he has her impaled with the crown and she averts her eyes away from his gaze.

He jerks her eyes upward as if to say, "Look." She fell in love with this person too. Sauron is Halbrand. The rage-filled, domineering and ambitious, violent spirit. He won't let her deny it. He won't let her look away. This is what they shared. She did not shrink before him when he pushed her away, when he told her of his darkness, when he told her, and showed her of how cruel and manipulative he could be. Remember, he saw her rage and vengeful side too. "Galadriel. Look at me." He says it aloud and presses these words upon her mind like a phantom prayer. His words probably haunt her soul. She feels it. It's what she hints at when she admits to Elrond that Gil Galad doesn't trust her alone with Sauron: You know why. The constant question that gropes her thoughts. It's the open invitation that still keeps the door open to his mind. She says she perceives "all of his mind as it concerns elves." I don't think that's because that is all that Sauron allows her to see. I think it's because that is what most occupies his thoughts. Her.

That's why, as I have previously wrote, I think the events of season 2 were setting the groundwork for manifesting the plan Sauron has for shaping the world as he saw it with Galadriel. He is going to enact their shared vision and, he believes, Galadriel will see its beauty and worth and return to him. Which leads me to her parting words to Sauron in episode 8. She tells him to heal himself. I think by now Sauron has enough insight to see that he is indeed a broken spirit. It comes up in his confessions with Celebrimbor and the showrunners have already hinted that Sauron is becoming increasingly aware that there is something about his very essence that poisons every meaningful relationship he has and dooms him to failure and despair. He also says to Galadriel at the start of their swordfight that he want to "heal..." and before he finishes with "Middle Earth", he pauses. He was going to say that he wants to heal himself. So by the time the viewer sees Galadriel tell him to basically fuck off and heal himself, those seeds are actually already planted. He has to cure himself of this blight. He has to purge himself of it. And now he has explicit instructions from Galadriel. He sees and remembers everything, right? He's going to do it. He's going to try to repair what he may see as his defect. It will be interesting to see how he interprets his marching orders from his queen. I think that is where the One Ring comes in.

The showrunners have already hinted that the forging of the One Ring will be an upcoming storyline soon. They also hinted that he's going to fuck something up. Furthermore, the audience has already been shown that the more of himself Sauron puts into a ring of power, the more corrupted and less potent of a creative, benevolent force it imparts. They've also shown that when Sauron tries to make rings on his own, he fails in the final product. He even went through a whole batch of mithril on his own without success. So if the writers have hinted that Sauron errs in the making of the ring, what could they possibly mean? Where did he go wrong? Is it that Sauron had different intentions for the Ring's purpose than what it ended up becoming? Or that he fulfilled its malicious purpose but with unintended side effects? If the former, I wonder if his true intention with the One Ring is to create another healing ring of power, his own ring as a mate of Galadriel's. Maybe he forges it, believing that this would meet Galadriel's demand to heal himself. The shownrunners have already shown that they like to put unexpected layers to the most well-known parts of Tolkien: “One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” Maybe those words have additional meaning.

#haladriel #saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #halbrand x galadriel #trop meta #haladriel meta #saurondriel meta #my gifs

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tessieee · 2 days ago

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“Out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?” MC x Main 7

Pairings: Obey me! Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC, Satan x MC, Asmodeus x MC, Beelzebub x MC, Belphegor x MC

༺═────────────═༻

It had been a particularly long day at R.A.D. Your professors droned on about subject matter you had been too drained to read about the night before, results for a test you were not confident about came in and you did way worse than you were expecting, and your nights grew shorter as you tried to keep up with the particularly hard material you were given that week.

Once you finally arrived at the House of Lamentation, you kept your interactions with the brothers curt– no one failed to notice your slumped shoulders and distant answers. Your door shuts behind you, your body sliding slowly down the door. Dark thoughts raced through your mind a mile a minute as you buried your head into your hands. Why am I even here?

The weight in your chest became heavier as the days went by and it wasn’t unusual for you to have days where you'd feel like you were incompetent. That there would be so many better choices for a human exchange student other than yourself. There are smarter, prettier, more athletic people. Why you?

Not much time passes before you hear a knock at your door, and you promptly let the demon in.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · Lucifer ~

The first thing he notices about you is your teary eyes, usually filled with the same wonder for life he lost so long ago. It broke his heart to see you this way. Still, he remained stoic; someone had to be levelheaded.

“I brought your dinner.” His eyes trail up and down your vulnerable figure, taking in your emotional state. “If there is anything I can do to alleviate your distress, please tell me.”

And there he was, sitting on the floor by your bed right by your side. He’d insisted that you accompany him to his room but you refused to move. Curled up into a fetal position, you were basically cemented onto the ground. At first, he’d been taken aback by your sudden outburst– the sobs that racked your chest while you spilled your whole day onto him. All he did was sit there and listen, which was just as much as you could’ve asked for. Lucifer trailed his hand to your upper back, caressing it softly until you leaned into him. When you finally took your face away from your knees, he was greeted by your puffy eyes and snotty nose. You felt embarrassed but the day had taken its toll on you and you were too tired to care.

Lucifer gazes at you sympathetically, he knows better than anyone what it’s like to have days that wear you down. He also knows that outbursts with the intensity yours had aren’t just from momentary things, this was something you’ve kept over time. He curses himself for not noticing sooner, perhaps he could’ve had this conversation with you sooner.

“This might be stupid but,” The demon perks up at your shaky voice, raspy from the lament. “I just felt so pathetic. I started to question… Why me? Y’know?”

“I don’t. Do you mind elaborating on the subject?” His expression shifts from sympathy to confusion.

You sniffle, finally regaining consciousness after the crying spell. Wiping your tears from your red, swollen eyes and taking a deep breath, you finally answer his question.

“I mean- I just feel so… Insignificant.” You start, looking off to the side, almost ashamed to admit this out loud. “Out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me? What’s so special about me?”

You continue, once again allowing the words to spill from your lips.

“There’s nothing about me other humans have if not more! What if you all visit the human realm one day and you meet other humans and you realize that I’m not..”

“Not what?”

“I’m not anything special. Nor important.” His expression became more tender as you admitted the main thing that had been bugging you all this time. He could see the way a weight lifted off your shoulders and your teary eyes seemed to relax. At last, your body relaxes the muscles you never recalled tensing up in the first place. A comfortable silence ensued in your words, followed by Lucifer pulling you closer to him so your curled-up body rests more on him. You take a moment to notice he’d been sitting criss-cross the whole time. This distracted you enough to let out a sigh of relief. The eldest demon brother rests his head on yours, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head and taking in your scent. “You’re missing the bigger picture, here.” He murmured.

“Huh?” Your thoughts were so loud, you almost missed it.

“It’s offensive to yourself to take away so much credit from a remarkable human.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again.

“My brothers and I have been around much longer than you. We’ve all known humans; what they're like, and what they’re capable of. You may not be worthy in your impossible standards, but to us– to me– you are more than enough.” Fat tears roll down your puffy cheeks once again, yet these are silent. You smile at your lap as his words sink in, allowing yourself to relax more into Lucifer’s frame. He welcomes you in, allowing the both of you to share a moment. He believes in you, he always has. “Thank you, Lucifer.” You sniffle, sincerity laced in your words. “Thank you so much.”

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Mammon ~

No words are exchanged between the two of you; simply relying on facial expressions to end up in your favorite spot to gossip in the room. However, at this point, it was unfair to reduce your bed to simply gossiping. Over time, Mammon had practically moved in at this point. He kept a spare charger and toothbrush there– you never complained.

He cradles you gently in his arms and lets you cry, similarly to how you had comforted him countless nights after arguments with his brothers that got out of hand. You two were a team, the terrible twos, two peas in a pod. He was your first, and you, his human. The sight of you broken down in his arms, distraught to no extent, truly unsettled something in him. Moments you had spent with him fly through his head as he searches for a sign as to when you started to feel this way. Was it something he said? Or did? To be fair he did only sell one thing, but if that’s what had you in this state then he’d go to the ends of all three realms to get it back.

The secondborn ran his fingers through your hair, being careful to not tug too hard on the tangles. Cooing quietly, attempting to soothe your obvious pain in any way possible. To his relief, you eventually calmed down enough to tell him what exactly was going on. You don’t think much as you tell him about your day, running by every incident in every class. Mammon takes note of the way your body shivers and grows colder as you speak of the anxiety-inducing day and doesn't miss a beat before messily throwing your comforter over the both of you. The cool cloth smelled like a pool of the both of you, taking you back to a multitude of memories of the both of you staying up far longer than you needed to simply talk.

“And with all of this, I just couldn’t help but think that I’m just not good enough.” You cry out weakly, exhausted from your outpour. “That if you met literally any other human you’d realize I could never live up to them. You’d all forget me!”

Hearing you say this tore his heart apart.

“Oi, whaddya’ even talking about?” He was dumbfounded by your feelings. How could his human feel this way? His human! The thought of you being anything along the lines of what you claimed to be confused him. You could just look off to the side, heat rising to your face in slight embarrassment. He was acting like you'd just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Don't go sayin' stuff like that about ya'self. I'll sock you in the face if you do."

You scrunch your nose in amusement before returning to the same sad pout. Doubts continued to cloud your mind just as quickly as they left.

“Out of everyone in the Human Realm, like, ever. Why me?” You hiccup quietly, wiping a tear with the side of his shirt leaving behind a small, damp, glossy spot. Mammon flashes you a look, usually, this would earn you a playful shove but this wasn't something he'd fix with jokes or banter. He supposes he’ll let it slide. For now.

“Well… cuz’ yer’ uhh..” The avatar of greed struggles to find the words to properly express the utter adoration he has for the human in his arms at this very moment. At the same time, he dealt with the shock of hearing such a thing come from you. The thought alone of him giving someone else the same time or feeling the same way for someone else just made him uncomfortable. He swore he'd end the person who inspired this insecurity in you. So many feelings seem to cancel out the moment he attempts to say them out loud.

“Listen, I dunno’ why or how Diavolo picked you, but I’m damn glad he did.”

You don’t hide your disappointment at the short response he gives you. Luckily you read his expression as deep in thought, so you give him a moment.

“All this time we’ve spent together, Human, is the most fun I’ve ever had running get-rich-quick schemes or even getting my ass whooped by Lucifer or– or in class–” He stops himself before he can continue rambling to you.

“Point is, yer’ irreplaceable! There's like a trillion humans, right?” “Well..!” You start with a gentle correction before he continues. “An’ there's only one you. I’m lucky to be the one to enjoy you, so don’t go round’ letting others enjoy you too, kay?” His words tug at your heartstrings resulting in a big goofy grin spread upon your pink and puffy lips. You nod your head at your first man, being more than happy to comply with his request. No one gave you such validating reassurance quite like he did. Who could blame him? You were his human after all and when you struggled he promised himself he'd be there just as much as you were there for him.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Leviathan ~

“I-I know you’re upset! So I brought some snacks and games– or we can just watch something and not talk! Your choice! Or– or we can talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?” The rambling demon stands at the foot of your door, your red eyes and tear-streaked face look up at him sourly. You almost felt bad since he was being so nice and his attempt at comforting you was so cute.

“Hey! Don’t zone out on me like that!” He pouts, brows furrowed with worry. “Do you want to be alone?” “Not really, please come in.” He nods and complies, blushing furiously at the position he found himself in. What would others think if they saw him going into your room alone?! With presents! And a desperate expression!

“Set that stuff down anywhere,” You sniffle quietly, looking up at Levi whose arms were full of comfort items he’d brought for you. He awkwardly dumps some of the things on your bed and the floor in no particular order. The air between you two is tense, he wonders if he’s the right person for this job. Then again, he wanted to be the one to comfort his player 2.

“Can we just play Devilkart™ for a little bit?

“Please.”

And so, the two of you played Devilkart™ until you could finally breathe without sniffling every five seconds. The quiet time allowed for you to relax, usually Devilkart™ nights are full of yelling curses at each other and bets as to who’d win, but tonight you both just sat there in comfortable silence. The sounds from the TV comforted you, the soft lighting of it in your dark room and warmth from Levi’s body shifted your mind from its corner in your brain.

After a couple rounds, you scooted closer to Levi who failed to react nonchalantly as you felt his body tense when your head rested on his shoulder.

“Wh–oa. You okay?

“It’s not fair, I could never be as great as some of the humans out there. I’m not worthy of being here.”

“What?” He blinks, shocked by the sudden confession. Your words process in his head and hit too close to home. You sounded like him.

“That’s… that’s not true and you know it” Levi shifts the position you two are in, this time allowing his arms enough space to hold your shoulders. As to make sure you hear what you’re about to say— as if he could yank you out of the slump you were in, dust you off, and the balance would be restored.

Was it bad he wanted to kiss you?

“What if Diavolo picked a celebrity, or a model, or an idol!?” Your hands trail to his wrists, holding tightly but not pushing away. More tears race down your face, shameless and loud.

“You’d all have no idea who I am— out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?”

“Because you’re— you— you’re special! How do you not see it?” His voice raised slightly, getting heated as you did. Leviathan takes a moment to lower his tone again; it was beyond him why you felt this way, he couldn’t fathom someone so perfect ever feeling anything but. If he had your charisma, your good looks, your wit— he doesn’t know what he’d do but he just knows it wouldn’t be feeling this way and it certainly wouldn’t be seeking out the comfort of an otaku.

“You’re like… my— my confidant! Thanks to you my stats are— they’re stronger than ever!” You could cook an egg on his face, burning to the touch.

“Really?” His reference momentarily allowed you to sniffle your emotions down. Knowing him, he was anxious out of his mind to confess how he felt.

“D’aw!” You coo teasingly, sniffling once again and rubbing your cheek against the hand still gripping onto your shoulder. The atmosphere alone felt hot, he was flustered.

“Levi, that was sooo sweet!”

“Huh?! What’s with that shift?!”

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Satan~

He had noticed that you were struggling in class, confirmed by when you went to his room one night to ask for help with an assignment. Since then he’d been trying to help you, you seemed okay. That didn’t prevent him from being disappointed in himself when you came home and locked yourself in your room.

Satan had been in your room way less than you’d been in his. His hand gripped your favorite book tightly as he stood awkwardly in your room. You let him in, now what. It was unusual for him to go into situations unprepared like this, he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug, dejected by the day’s events. Exhaustion took over your body and the last thing you wanted was to expel your burden onto him. Satan’s expression softened from seeing your mood shift. At least you weren’t crying anymore?

“Lets lay down. How’s that sound, hm?” He nods towards your bed, you lead the way.

The avatar of wrath displays impossible softness around you, stroking your hair with one hand and skillfully holding onto your favorite book in the other. You feel the vibrations from his chest where your face lies, his rich voice bringing your favorite characters to life. He’d introduced you too the book not long after you first made a pact with him. Since then, you’d read the copy of it he and you shared. The book was loved, usually Satan wouldnt be able to stand the tattering of a book but the little notes and scribbled annotations peppered on the margins stood out. It was more than just a story now; a display of your blossoming friendship, the small fingertip touches whenever you’d exchange the book between you two to read the week’s notes from the other, and the way you began to look forward every time you planned an exchange of the book.

“There are few people whom I really love,” He reads, leaning his head on top of yours. “and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I–”

Satan stops himself; he took note of the way your breathing steadied and your eyes drifted shut. Your form lay against him peacefully as he slowly put the book away and readjusted your position so that you could both drift off to sleep.

When you woke up, there was a cup of tea by your nightstand. Steam was still emanating from the top of it– you take it in your hands and blow gently. Too tired to process the absence of warmth that Satan’s body provided before he left, you take a small sip of the herbal liquid.

“Ready to talk about it?” He appeared from the front of your door, shutting it gently behind him. His brothers were worried sick and flooded the fourth eldest with questions about how you were doing and if an intervention was required. He simply reassured them that everything was under control.

“In hindsight, it’s kinda’ silly. I don’t want to trouble you with it”

“If it’s about you, it's never silly. Talk to me, please?”

You sigh, eyes dashing to the side as he approaches the side of your bed taking a seat for himself. The sip of tea you took sits warmly in your mouth, any attempt to stall admitting to him how you felt. You swallow hard.

“I just feel like… In comparison to other humans, I fall short.” You tangle a hand through your hair tugging at the strands gently. The demon on your bed shifts his body more towards you. You had his attention now– intrigued by your insecurity he stays silent hoping you tell him more.

“Makes me think, out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?” A short pause fills the air with tension. “I wish I was special.”

“But you are the most remarkable human I’ve ever had the privilege of spending time with.” His words seem to heal something in you. You wondered when you began to care so much about what he thought of you. “Truly, I have never caught myself admiring a human with the same intensity.”

Your heart skips a beat while he’s speaking. The grip on your mug tightens and the look on your face reads disbelief. How long has he felt this way?

“Ad–admiring? Satan..”

“Believe me when I say you are anything but unremarkable. You’ve worked your way into all of our hearts… Mine especially.” A soft blush crept onto his face, you noticed.

Satan held much more passion for you than you originally thought. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to bury your nose in the crook of his neck and he wastes no time before returning your affection. You couldn't quite put your finger on his scent, but you knew it smelt like home.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Asmodeus~

Asmodeus followed you to your room the moment he saw your teary eyes. The two of you had been inseparable since you arrived at the Devildom. Whenever your attention wasn’t being demanded by all of the other responsibilities you bore simply by being a human and existing in the Devildom, you were in his room. No one had ever made him laugh the way you did, regardless of what you two were talking about. Lady Luck worked her magic when he met you.

“Oh, darling…” A sympathetic look laced his porcelain features at seeing your trembling shoulders. Choking on your sobs, you shove your hands towards your face being embarrassed to be seen this way. You felt like a mess, you probably looked like one too. Overhearing your classmates during lunch enlightened you to what they considered you to be. Sometimes you forget that outside your circle of love provided by the exchange program, a lot of demons still had to shift their mindsets when it came to humans.

Little time passes before the avatar of lust takes your body and pulls it close to his. Seeing you this way made him anxious, though he’d never admit it out loud, he liked how it felt. Asmo wanted to care for you almost as much as he cared for himself and it showed. He never missed a chance to offer you some sort of joint self-care sessions that you grew fond of over time.

“That's it, love.” He cooed, peppering kisses on the top of your skull as you spilled muffled wails into his designer sweater. “Cry it out.”

Panic struck his face for a moment, maybe putting more thought into drabbing down before comforting you would have been the smart choice. What a silly thought! It was impossible for someone like him to drab down.

The texture of the cashmere comforts your nose that you’d rubbed raw. was broken by the demon’s quiet humming. An unfamiliar melody lulled you to a less troubled state, gentle and kind. Asmodeus’ flirty behavior turned you off when you first arrived in the Devildom. Back then everything was so new and overwhelming and a part of you couldn’t stand all of the demons around you. Being received with such affection was a foreign feeling to you which you just excused as ingenuine. That didn’t stop your mind from wandering every once in a while– with all the touches on the shoulder when he’d run into you after class, the back rubs when you’d spend the night gossiping in his room, the charged eye contact when he would do your makeup– you couldn’t help but look forward to the next time he would be around.

“Darling, why don’t you tell me what’s going on now?” His cold hand soothes your red-hot face, your sobs had eased into quiet huffs. “Keeping this to yourself won’t relieve the pain in your chest.”

A sigh follows Asmo’s words. You never had to deal with anything alone now that Asmodeus was by your side. His presence felt so bright in comparison to yours– how he always knew how you felt and what you needed was what confused you. To have someone be so attentive to your needs and the push and pull of your emotions was new to you. When you drowned in your feelings he was always there to save you. For a while you were suspicious of his intentions– unsure if the interest he took in you was anything genuine. But now you realize that you had never felt so seen by another entity before and by having someone to help you recognize your worth, you began to appreciate life.

“I can’t shake the feeling that if you guys ever meet another human… I don’t know Asmo, this is pointless, I feel better now!” This earns you a deadpan from the demon.

“What about me interests you so much?” You raise your voice, eyebrows arched with annoyance. Emotions clouded your judgment making it easy for you to fall back into your old thinking habits. You found it unfathomable for someone to care for you without hidden intentions and not knowing if Asmo had any frustrated you.

“I don't deserve this!” Your hands motioned between the two of you pointing out his affection.

“Asmo, I feel awful.” You frown. “I had an awful day and heard awful things from the people in my class and–” Silence.

“Out of everyone in the human realm, why me?” Asmodeus furrows his brows, exhaling sharply. Your words didn’t go without hurting. He figured that he had nothing to hide from you so that that would earn him some trust. This didn’t stop him from brushing it off; your insecurities already haunted one person and he couldn’t make it become two for your sake.

“Because a human quite like you is hard to come across. Your soul is like a diamond, love. The toughest, shiniest, most eye-catching diamond.”

“You don’t mean that.” Bitterness is laced through your words. You didn't understand why he felt this way about you. The unknown regarding why he felt that way flustered you, everything about your borderline erotic friendship with the avatar of lust flustered you.

Your heart skips a beat and a quiet sniffle breaks the silence. Asmodeus made you nervous. Sure, he was never shy with letting you know how he felt about you, but you were at your lowest and here he was; with you. Then it dawned on you. Anyone else could’ve come to check on you but it was Asmodeus who followed you straight to your room, as if he could feel what you felt. You wanted someone to chase after you and somehow he knew that. It irritated you and made you swoon at the same time. Realization dawned on you. The demon cradling you in his arms wasn’t the root of your frustration but the fear of being known the way he knew you.

You learned a lot from your time with Asmo. Thanks to him you knew you deserve the love he gave you.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Beelzebub~

After hearing your door slam shut the brothers could only shrug at each other. They shared confused looks until they all landed on Beelzebub, who had been shoving some of your favorite snacks into his pockets and grabbing some for himself on the way to your room.

“Should we come too?” Belphegor chimes in. The sound of your door had stirred him awake. His groggy expression provoked a softness in his brother’s face.

“I think that would overwhelm them.” He says, barely swallowing the food in his mouth before speaking. “Be right back.”

Hastily he makes his way up the stairs to your room to not be tempted to eat the snacks he saved for you. Luckily, the ones he brought for the road had been devoured after you let him into your room.

Beelzebub was faced with your red nose and teary eyes. With a sharp inhale, he pats his bulging pockets which he packed full of snacks for the both of you.

“Hey. Can I come in?” You nod and sniffle. A weak smile graces your sad features at seeing the avatar of gluttony at your door. Over time he’d become less aloof around you and since you’d started to spend more time together you had a firsthand experience of how loyal and caring he really was. Having him there in your room checking on you made you flustered, you liked it— you like him— a lot.

His large hands dug into his pockets, emptying out the contents before taking a seat on your bed. Beel pats the seat next to him which you trudge over to and take a seat.

“Beel?” You rest your head on his shoulder. The bag of your favorite chips crinkles loudly as you tear it open. “D’you ever feel like you’re nothing special?”

This confused the demon by your side. What did you mean, nothing special? He couldn’t imagine you and those words being in the same sentence, much less spoken by you. Spending time with you and knowing of your equal fondness and understanding towards Belphie made you practically perfect in his eyes. To him, you oozed kindness. Yet he understood where you were coming from. To be reduced to one word to summarize your entire being was an experience he was far too familiar with, even with loved ones. Seeing your hurt-ridden face felt like a punch to the stomach.

“All the time.” The words come out quietly from his mouth as if he’d also been admitting something. His strong hand reaches over your body and into the open chip bag you had yet to eat out of. The sounds of his crunching serves as white noise while you think. You couldn’t possibly fathom someone like Beel feeling the way you do. If you looked like that you’d probably be an asshole, you were hot so you figured you’d never have to be nice to anyone. You chastise yourself for your thought process.

“People will have their idea of you,” Beelzebub rubs your back gently and an empathetic look in his eyes glistens in your direction. “If that's all you are to them it says more about them than you.”

Your smile becomes genuine as he cheers you up. Perhaps he’s the type to pay attention during the pep-talk before a big game of Fangol. The thought made you laugh sadly. Beel catches a glimpse of your expression. He smiles too.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You say a thoughtful frown etched onto your features. Reaching into your bag of chips you grab a couple to hold in your mouth while you and Beel sat there. The plush mattress dips under your weight as you take a seat right behind where the sixthborn was sitting. He turns to look at you with confusion but you take his face in your hands and gently turn it the other way. Beelzebub doesn’t question you when you start to run your fingers through his ginger locks and he knows better than to comment as you start to braid strands of his hair together.

“That tickles.” He says through a mouth full of the chips you made the mistake of abandoning on the floor near him. You give him a tired giggle which is all you can muster up. The demon gives himself a couple of seconds to finish up the bag before continuing with his point. He felt like it wouldn’t be fair to you to just leave it like that. A part of you still looked upset.

“There’s no one like you out there.” Assuredness drips from his words. As if he’d practiced this in the mirror a million times over before heading to your room. “Not in all the three realms.”

“You’re special to us all and I..” He hesitates for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought. Why did he feel shy all of a sudden? A light blush dusted his cheeks as thoughts about you ran through his mind. “Really think you’re special.”

“Very detailed, thank you, Beel.” You say with feigned satisfaction. The hair you were braiding slipped from your fingers as the demon turned to give you an incredulous look. Laughter bubbles in your chest at seeing the way his head tilted, you were fond of the demon and not fond of the way it felt like you’d just kicked a puppy in front of him with the expression he was shooting in your direction.

“I’m kidding.” You slid your arms around his neck, resting your weight on his built shoulders. That’s a feeling you’d never get tired of. “Thank you, Beelz”

A large hand trails toward your forearm, which grounds you in the moment. Suddenly you both become aware of how close you are to each other. You can feel his breath on your arms; he’d pull you closer if he could.

“Yeah.” The simple response from the demon certainly didn’t speak for his complex feelings for you. He knew he’d do anything to keep that pretty smile on your face.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Belphegor~

“Hey, you’re kinda’ being really loud. Do you mind– uhm…”

Belphegor was faced with the unexpected. He assumed that when he’d go complain to the human you’d apologize, laugh it off, and invite him in– which he would’ve reluctantly accepted whilst already falling asleep in your bed– but there you were, sobbing and glaring furiously at him. Did he even do anything?

“Whoa, alright what’s with the face? Let me in.” You grumble something under your breath that you’re glad he doesn’t hear. The door creaks as he pushes through it and scans your room, eyes locked onto your soft, unmade bed. Not that he cared.

“I dunno Belphie…” You stare helplessly as he walks by you. “I don’t feel good right now.”

He shrugs you off. There’s nothing he couldn’t help you get over. Someone like you shouldn’t have to be worried about anything. You have one of the most comfortable beds in the Devildom and seven doting demons who care about you— if that isn’t the makings of a stress-free life he didn’t know what was.

“Kay’ then.” The demon makes himself comfortable on your bed. You helplessly watch as he curls up in your crying spot.

“What I meant was that I wanna’ be alone?”

“Belphie?”

He was fast asleep. Of course, he was! Why would you expect him to respect your wishes? Frustration displayed itself proudly on your face as you watched the seventh-born sleep. You were jealous of how peacefully he slept.

“Whatever. Why would you care?” You mumble, taking advantage of the fact he was knocked out cold. “You of all people would agree I’m not shit.”

The floorboards creak quietly as you pace around your room, rubbing up and down your arms for comfort. If you stopped moving you’d likely start crying again and you’d rather not wake Belphegor just for him to see you cry.

“Of course I’m not special.”

“This is so stupid. Now I can’t even have a pity party in peace.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes again. Just when you managed to stop them your tear ducts were betraying you. The steady flow of tears began once again, your chest heaving with sorrow. No sounds escape from your mouth until you have to inhale again. Trying to keep yourself quiet, you slap a hand over your mouth. Heading to the bathroom to cry seemed like the only valid solution at this point.

“Why do you want to be special so bad anyway?” The avatar of sloth’s drowsy voice snaps you out of your ramble. His eyes shift lazily across you, taking in your distressed appearance. You whip your head around towards him making a pathetic attempt to clean your face from the tears and snot that expressed your dread.

“What?” You stutter out. A quiet yawn is emitted from the demon before he sits up to face you.

“What’s so good about being special that it deserves to have you pining for it like this?” This earns a scoff from you.

“You were listening the whole–” You cut yourself off before setting off on the demon. To alleviate the pressure of an oncoming headache you pinch your nosebridge, hoping the tension won’t get worse. “Belphie, I feel like I’m gonna break down. If you don’t care to help then leave.”

Mentally you cursed yourself for allowing Belphie to see such a side of you. Even when you were trying to be stern your voice shook with uncertainty and hurt. He seems to visibly soften with your words, understanding that now wasn't the time to banter or push your buttons. It wouldn't be fun to see your reaction if he did. Belphegor stifles a yawn which turns into a long sigh.

“You’re pacing y’know” You shoot him a furious look before he speaks again. “Look, it's just lame you think this way cuz’ you don’t even have to try to be unique.”

You let him talk this time.

“It’s what draws people to you. I mean, who else can deal with our problems the way you do and then still have energy to give after.” A soft grin graces his lips. “I’d be exhausted.”

Damn it. How emotional were you exactly? Tears slipped out of your eyes as he spoke, your heart holding on to every word and the knowledge that Belphie did understand. Part of you was afraid you’d just be brushed off by the demon but after everything you had been through with them made it silly for you to think so. Belphie cared for you too, in his own way. He nods to the side you usually sleep on and makes room for you to lie by him. Not much time passes before your head is resting on the nook of his shoulder and his fingers trail shapes lazily on your side. You always forgot how tired breakdowns made you. You always forgot how safe sleeping by Belphegor’s side made you feel, ironically enough. Whether you were special or not to everyone else stopped concerning you so much now that you knew how special you truly were to someone who never would’ve given humans a chance in the first place. With your mind finally at rest, you could drift off to sleep.

༺═────────────═༻

Oh mty glob finally its done T_T I'm so sorry for taking a billion years on these I tried my best to not make any part longer than the other or anyone OOC. Im super anal when I see a character I really like is OOC so if anyone sees that and has tips for how to write them I'm all ears!!

Thank u for reading <3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

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tench · 2 days ago

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Veilguard is such a weird game.

It's not a Dragon age game, it's bately a role playing game. It's an ok action. Even though it is the most stable AAA release it is still just a bunch of barely tied together stuff in a trench coat.

The writing (insultingly dumbed down and absolutely incapable of taking itself seriously untill the last 1/6 of the game) is all over the place, the direction is nonexistent judging by the tonal shift from one quest to another. We can have very heart felt monologue about the fear of death sit right next to a conversation where a lot of things are told using one specific phrase (I really hope in a clumsy attempt at emphasis) repeated till these words lose any meaning to you.

There's also a problem of role-playing in this "rpg" and the Rook. None of your dialogue choices matter in terms of defining your character, no matter the option you choose, the general conversation will carry the upbeat silly tone. "Your backstory and class matter more than your race" works untill it doesn't, like when you are a dwarf but you are denied your own journey and realizations tied to the titans, and maybe it is not your journey to take yet you can't even try to be a part of it, even when Harding is actively reaching out to other dwarves to share this connection. It's also weirdly more interested in writing romance between npcs than for the main character (Lucanis comes to mind, it feels like the game is actively punishing you for pursuing him, you have to lose the whole shadow dragon faction, you won't get to hang out with Dorian and still you have bare minimum and he more interested in Neve anyway), that's extremely funny that this game is player-sexual yet completely player-aromantic. (And I miss the dai option where you can come up and kiss your LI whenever you feel like it).

I won't even touch on the weird and unnecessary sanitation of everything, like we can't allow people or factions to have negative traits whatsoever. And it's not "southern propaganda", it's "we are not engaging with complex topics for the sake of clear dichotomy between good us and evil overlords". Speaking of which

The whole plot.. The general idea of it is ok. You come to stop Solas, you make the situation go sideways, you have to work together to fix your mistakes and maybe learn to sympathize with the antagonist haunted by his own transgressions with the main theme being legacy and your relationship with your culture and the baggage it brings. But the journey is a complete disaster. Part of it works solely because the characters absolutely Refuse to make a plan and the other - because the main character has a blunt head trauma. Maybe it's related. Maybe it's all a mass hallucination. I may try to elaborate on how it's absolutely ridiculous how little the inquisition and the politics have any impact in this game yet somehow 8 people squatting in the Fade with no political affiliations are held responsible for providing for every faction they come across. I won't even try to make sense of it. It's the usual case of "the main character does everything".

The direction is not only absent in the writing. Some lines that are ok in text delivered in such a way you may think they were allowed only to use the very first take.

The music is absolutely forgettable. Also the odd riff during the dramatic reveal absolutely took me out because I thought I heard kazoo (but I bet Varric would love it).

The visuals are.. Ok. It's pretty on the first glance but the more you travel the more you realize that the general design of the locations are kinda lacking. They have this weird gradient that makes everything a little bit more unfocused and a bit washed out. There are also too many cases of the horisont just drowning in the fog. Air perspective is great and it suits locations like Necropolis, but I would argue that these establishing shots should be used for environmental storytelling in other places, with some focal points in the background, like during the final mission where you see the world absolutely drowning in the blight, devouring local statue of liberty. Or the dead Titan. Or the first shot of the Veil jumper forest (I forgot how it's called) where you see the ruins going into he sky. But because of the fog (or sometimes darkness) it feels like the game is more interested in cheating the optimisation than to hint on the bigger picture (like the chantry and the gallows buildings that you can see almost from all locations in DA2 or the andrastian/dread wolf imagery of inquisition)

So, in conclusion. Not the worst game I played, yet disappointing, even if we pretend it's not an installment of a beloved franchise that people were waiting for 10 years.

Ps. Also making such a game with nerfing all the lore only to nuke all the legacy locations is a choice I won't ever understand. It's like it is not for the fans and it's not for the new people but a secret third thing.

#dav spoilers

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eu-nicola · 2 days ago

Text

secret island part 2

summary: while searching for the treasure, JJ and you are separated from the group and must survive together on an isolated island. In the midst of danger, both give in to the attraction, but when returning to the others, JJ is already involved Kie and you and him have to face guilt

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 5032

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @immyowndefender @overthinkersofia @sturnxluvv

The dim moonlight filtered through the window, softly illuminating the room. You were lying next to JJ, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. His fingers were tracing soft patterns on your arm, a gesture that seemed as natural as breathing. The room was silent, except for the sound of your calm breathing.

Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a rhythm that, for some reason, made you feel safe, as if in this small space, at least for a moment, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

JJ spoke first, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded soft but laden with emotion.

“I don’t know how I’m going to walk away from you after this,” he admitted, his tone honest and vulnerable.

His words made your heart skip a beat. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“I don’t know how to do it either,” you replied in a whisper. I don’t want to.

JJ sighed, and his arm tightened slightly around you, as if he was afraid you would fade away.

“It’s like… I need you,” he said after a moment, his voice barely a murmur.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you sat up enough to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes was almost overwhelming. You felt the same way, though it was hard to admit it out loud. Everything that had happened between the two of you these past few days seemed so inevitable, so intense, that fighting it would be pointless.

But there was one shadow you couldn’t ignore. The image of Kie loomed in your mind, and with it, guilt.

“And Kie?” you finally asked, your voice shaking a little. “What’s going to happen to her, JJ?”

JJ looked away, his expression darkening. You could see the internal struggle on his face, the way his thoughts seemed like chaos. Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s all so complicated. Kie is important to me, but what I feel when I’m with you…” He paused, searching for words. “It’s different. You make everything clearer and more confusing at the same time.”

His words resonated deeply with you, because they were an exact reflection of how you felt. You were caught between what you knew was right and what your heart was screaming for.

“JJ… this isn’t going to be easy,” you said, though a part of you wished things were different.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I know. But right now, I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen. I don’t want to think about anything.”

Before you could respond, JJ leaned into you, his lips finding yours. The kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly became deeper, more urgent. There was a desperate need in his touch, like he was trying to hold on to this moment and to you.

You let yourself go, your hands finding his hair as he pulled you closer. Every kiss, every touch, was a reminder of how inevitable this connection between the two of you was. No matter how many times you tried to rationalize it, the attraction and intimacy was too powerful to ignore.

JJ gently laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you shiver. Everything you felt for him was spilling out in that moment, in every whisper, in every caress.

“I need you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and heavy with emotion.

Your fingers slid down his back, and his words caused a heat to spread throughout your body.

“Me too,” your voice replied, broken by the intensity of the moment.

The outside world disappeared once again, leaving only the two of you tangled in a tangle of emotions and desire. The weight of guilt and uncertainty was still there, but for now, you both decided to put it aside. In this space, there was no judgment or regret, just the truth of what you felt for each other.

The night continued with that mix of passion and vulnerability. The next morning when the sun was already high, was when you decided to leave the room and leave JJ behind. You had talked about being discreet, to avoid raising suspicions. So, with your heart still beating fast from what had happened between you, you quickly got ready and left first.

The cool air outside hit your skin, you walked towards the meeting point, where everyone had agreed to meet up later. As you got closer, you heard the familiar laughter and voices of your friends. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep a neutral expression.

Upon arriving, John B and Sarah were discussing something, while Pope and Kiara were laughing at an inside joke. You waved with a tight smile and took a seat on a log near Pope.

“There you are!” Pope said, giving you a friendly punch on the shoulder. “We thought JJ had left you somewhere on the island.”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head.

“Nah, I got ahead of myself. JJ’s probably still sleeping.”

Pope looked at you with a smile that seemed a little longer than usual, but you didn’t comment on anything. At that moment, JJ appeared, walking with his hands in his pockets, looking carefree as always. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, but he quickly looked away at the others.

“Wow, and the party already started without me?” he joked, sitting right next to Kiara.

She laughed, pushing him slightly.

“You’re late as usual.”

JJ smiled, leaning into her with a familiarity that made you tense. You tried to focus on the conversation Sarah was having with John B, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift to JJ and Kiara.

They were too close together.

Kiara leaned into him as they talked, her laughter echoing easily. JJ, for his part, seemed to enjoy her attention, resting an arm casually on the back of his seat, near his shoulders. You felt a pang in your chest that you tried to ignore.

Meanwhile, Pope sat closer to you, taking advantage of the general distraction to strike up a conversation.

“How are you?” he asked you, his tone softer than usual.

“Fine,” you replied with an automatic smile, though your attention was still divided between him and JJ.

Pope seemed to take your answer as an invitation to continue.

“You know, I’ve been thinking… you and I haven’t spent much time together lately. We should go out exploring a bit later, how about that?”

His words surprised you, and before you could respond, you felt a gaze fixed on you. You turned your head just in time to see JJ watching you, his eyes slightly narrowed. There was an obvious tension in his jaw, as if every word Pope said was irritating him more than he wanted to show.

“Sure, Pope. That sounds good,” you said, not so much because you wanted to, but because you wanted to see how JJ would react.

And he did. His relaxed smile disappeared for a moment, and in its place, a flash of awkwardness appeared. However, he quickly returned his focus to Kiara, leaning in to whisper something to her that made her laugh again.

The atmosphere became unbearable. You felt like you were both throwing silent hints at each other through each other. Pope was trying to keep your attention, while JJ seemed more and more determined to focus on Kiara. The closeness between them was like a dagger, and you hated yourself for how much it affected you.

Eventually, Sarah noticed the tension in the air and tried to lighten the mood.

“Okay, guys, how about we stop flirting with each other and get back to business?” she teased, looking between you and Pope, then between JJ and Kiara.

“Flirting?” Pope said, laughing nervously. “Come on, Sarah, don’t start with that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kiara replied, waving a hand. “It’s just pure friendship here. Right, JJ?”

JJ smirked, but didn’t say anything. His gaze, however, strayed to you for a second, just enough to make your heart race. There was something in that look, a mix of defiance and regret, as if she were saying: I know what you’re thinking, but this is what we have to do.

You decided to keep your composure, even though inside everything was chaos.

“Exactly. Pure friendship,” you interjected, trying to sound casual.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued, but she didn’t press any further.

The afternoon passed slowly, each moment charged with a tension that only you and JJ seemed to notice. The fleeting glances, the awkward silences, the forced smiles.

When the group finally dispersed, you found yourself alone, walking towards the edge of the beach. You needed a moment to breathe, to gather your thoughts. It wasn’t long before JJ caught up to you, his expression serious.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low but laden with frustration.

You turned to him, surprised by his tone.

“Me? What are you doing, JJ?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “You couldn’t get any closer to Kiara if you tried.”

JJ took a step towards you, his gaze intense.

“What about Pope?” he said, his tone bitter. “He seems more than happy to fill the void when I’m not around.”

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to find the right words.

“This is crazy,” you finally muttered, running a hand through your hair. “We can’t keep going like this, JJ.”

JJ sighed, his gaze softening. He took a step closer, until he was just inches away from you.

“I know. But I can’t get away from you either.”

The tension between you and JJ didn’t lessen after that confrontation on the beach; if anything, it only intensified what already seemed inevitable. In the days that followed, the moments alone became more frequent, more desperate. You both seemed to look for any excuse to break away from the group, any opportunity to let your feelings for each other get carried away, even if only for a little while.

With each encounter, the connection between you two grew stronger, deeper. It wasn’t just desire that brought you together, though that was always there; it was something else, something you were both afraid to name out loud. Every time JJ looked at you with those intense, emotion-filled eyes, you felt like your world was crumbling and rebuilding at the same time.

One afternoon, while the others were busy with the boat, JJ took you into the woods, to a secluded clearing where you knew no one would find you. There was something almost ritualistic about these encounters: the urgency with which he grabbed your hand, the way his lips sought yours before either of you could speak. But this time it was different.

After a long moment together, you both lay on the ground, the grass serving as a makeshift bed. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the calm rhythm of his breathing.

“This is going too far,” you finally whispered, breaking the silence. Your eyes were fixed on the treetops, where the sunlight filtered in soft rays.

JJ didn’t respond right away. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin.

“I can’t help it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and heavy with emotion. “Every time I try to get away, I find myself reaching for you again.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt a lump form in your throat. You were on the verge of tears, and you hated how vulnerable you felt.

“JJ, this is killing me,” you confessed, your voice shaky. “What we’re doing… I don’t know how to deal with all of this.” I don’t know how to move on knowing that everything could explode at any moment.

He sat up a little, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were filled with worry and something deeper, something you acknowledged but had both avoided mentioning until now.

“Hey…” he whispered, bringing a hand to your face to caress your cheek. “I don’t want you to cry about this, about me.”

His words only made a single tear slide down your cheek.

“I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I feel like I’m trapped. I love you, JJ, but all of this… it’s too much.”

Silence fell between you for a moment, broken only by the distant chirping of birds. JJ let out a long sigh, as if he was trying to process what you had just said.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “More than I should.”

His words made your heart stop for an instant. It had been the first time either of you had said it out loud, the first time you had put a name to what you were feeling. The gravity of his words hit you hard, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to flow even more intensely.

JJ held you tightly, his lips pressed against your hair.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” he promised, though his voice was tinged with uncertainty. “We’ll find a way to make this work.”

You clung to him, letting his words comfort you, though a part of you doubted it was possible.

As the days passed, the nights were the hardest; you knew JJ was somewhere nearby, and the longing to be with him was almost unbearable.

There were times, though, when guilt would creep in, especially when you saw Kiara smile at JJ or when Pope spoke to you in that gentle tone that made you feel even guiltier. There was a constant weight on your chest, a mix of happiness and remorse that you didn’t know how to handle.

Some nights, after one of their encounters, you found yourself crying silently in your bed. It hurt to be caught between what you wanted and what you knew was right. But despite everything, you couldn’t imagine not seeing JJ anymore, not feeling his touch, not losing that connection that seemed as essential as breathing.

The weight of their clandestine relationship had become unbearable. Every shared glance, every furtive touch, only added more tension to the burden they both carried. No matter how much they loved each other.

That night, after days of awkward silence, you decided it was time to talk to JJ. You asked him to meet you at the beach, out of sight of everyone else. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, offering a fitting soundtrack to what you knew was going to be a painful conversation.

JJ arrived a few minutes later, hands in his pockets and a serious expression on his face. Without needing words, you both knew this meeting wasn’t like the others.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, though his tone betrayed that he already knew the answer.

You took a deep breath, feeling the lump in your throat grow.

“JJ… this can’t go on.” Your voice trembled slightly, but you forced yourself to continue. “We can’t go on like this, hiding, lying to everyone. It’s not fair to Kiara, or to us.”

JJ pressed his lips together, looking away toward the horizon. He remained silent for a moment, and you could see the internal struggle reflected in his eyes.

“I know,” he finally replied, his tone resigned. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. “But if we keep going, we’re just going to hurt each other more, hurt everyone.”

JJ nodded slowly, letting out a heavy sigh.

“So, this is it, right?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t trust your voice to answer, so you simply nodded. JJ took a step closer, raising a hand to caress your face one last time. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, as if he wanted to memorize the feeling.

“I’m going to miss you,” he murmured.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

You both stared at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity before JJ lowered his hand and pulled away. You both knew this was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

In the days that followed, the distance between you became palpable. Although you were still part of the same group, interactions were limited to what was strictly necessary. JJ took refuge in his usual carefree facade, joking around with Kiara and the others as if nothing had changed. But you could see the sadness behind his smile, the way his eyes sought you out when he thought no one was looking.

For your part, you tried hard to keep your composure, but the reality was that you were broken. The nights were the worst. In the solitude of your room, you allowed the tears to flow freely, silently drowning out the pain you couldn’t share with anyone.

You tried to distract yourself by spending more time with Pope, Sarah, and John B, but nothing filled the void JJ had left. Every time you saw Kiara and JJ together, a mix of jealousy and sadness would ripple through your chest. Not because you doubted JJ’s feelings for you, but because you saw how well he knew how to hide them.

There were times when you almost reached out to him, you wanted to ask him if he felt as miserable as you did. But you didn’t.

One night, while everyone was gathered around a campfire, JJ got up to get more wood. His eyes met yours for a brief moment before he disappeared into the darkness. The gesture was enough to make your heart beat faster.

Pope, sitting next to you, tried to start a conversation, but his voice faded into the background as your thoughts focused on JJ.

A couple of hours later, while everyone else was asleep, you heard footsteps outside your room. You slowly opened the door, meeting JJ, who stopped dead when he saw you. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something, but he eventually shook his head and walked away.

You closed the door. Despite the separation, despite the decision to break up, there was still an invisible bond that kept you connected. And although neither of you dared to break the silence, you both knew the kind of love you had wasn't going to go away easily.

You were both stuck, unable to move forward, but too scared to look back.

The feeling of emptiness was still a constant weight on your chest. There were days when Kiara would talk to you about him, about the jokes they shared, about the little things that seemed to keep their friendship intact, and you would just nod, unable to say anything because the words would get stuck in your throat. You didn't know what to do with those feelings that kept burning, and even though you tried to hide them, it was impossible. There were nights when you felt so lost that you wished everything that had happened with JJ had never happened, so you could keep things the way they were. But there were also nights when you regretted having made that decision, wishing everything would go back to the way it was on the island.

One night, the group had decided to spend time together. The fresh sea air and the night breeze were the only things that accompanied the bustle of laughter and conversation. But in the end, as always, the couples dispersed. John B. and Sarah left early, followed by Pope and Kiara, who, as always, claimed to have “family matters” to attend to.

So, it was just the two of you left. The silence between you was awkward at first, heavy with unspoken words. You both stared out at the sea, each lost in your own thoughts. You knew you shouldn’t be there, but you couldn’t help it. The need to be close to him was stronger than any attempt at rationality.

Finally, it was JJ who broke the silence.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice soft but full of sincerity. He looked out at the horizon, as if finding the right words was a challenge. “I’ve been thinking all the time about what happened between us, about how… everything changed.”

A lump formed in your throat. You knew it was true, that there was no way back. But hearing those words made you feel the weight of everything you’d lost.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, struggling to stay calm. You felt vulnerable, exposed, but you needed to be honest. “Sometimes I wish the island thing hadn’t happened. I don’t want to feel that way, JJ. I feel so bad about what we did, about how it all ended.”

JJ looked at you then, with that intense gaze that always disarmed you, and for a moment you thought he could read your mind, that he knew what you were really thinking. His expression was a mix of sadness and determination, as if he too was fighting what he felt, but could no longer hide it.

“I would repeat it a thousand times, without hesitation,” he said, slowly approaching, his tone low but firm, full of a contained passion that made you feel the warmth of his presence despite the distance that separated you. “I would do it over and over again if it means being with you, even though I know it’s not right. But I can’t help it.”

His words floated between you, and for an instant, the world seemed to stop. It was as if everything you had lived, everything you had wanted to keep hidden, exploded at that moment. You felt trapped between the desire to be close to him and the pain of knowing that you couldn’t.

He came even closer. The sound of the waves and the gentle breeze couldn’t drown out the accelerated pace of your thoughts.

“I don’t know if this is right, but I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, so close you could almost feel his breath on your skin.

Unable to resist any longer, you made the decision to give in, to surrender to what you felt. The distance between you disappeared in a matter of seconds. His hands sought out your face, gently brushing your skin, as if he feared that, by touching you, everything might fade away. He caressed your cheek and then moved down to your neck, where his fingers lingered for a moment, firm and warm.

When his lips finally found yours, it was as if the world made sense again, if only for an instant. The kiss was soft at first, cautious, as if you both knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but you couldn’t help it. The pain of separation, the guilt of what had happened before, momentarily faded away. There was only the feeling of him, of his body close to yours, of his lips moving with yours, searching for answers that neither of you had.

You clung to him, your hands on his shirt, pulling him towards you, deepening the kiss. It was like everything else had disappeared, like the sea, the night, and the pain didn’t exist. There was only him, JJ, and the desire that bound them together with an inexplicable force. When they finally separated, they were both breathing raggedly, as if they had run an emotional marathon.

“Why are we doing this?” you asked, your voice raspy, unable to stop the tear that slid down your cheek.

“Because I can’t walk away from you,” he said, his voice shaking, his gaze more vulnerable than ever. “No matter what happens… I would do it again, without thinking about it.”

At that moment, you understood that words no longer mattered. You both knew what you felt, even if you couldn’t face it. The reality of what you had decided to do hit you hard, but it was too late to regret it.

The night breeze caressed your skin as you stood there, sitting next to JJ on the beach, not wanting the moment to end. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, as if you both knew that what had happened between you couldn’t be undone, and for some reason, neither of you wanted it to end.

After a while, JJ stood up, stretching, and then looked at you, his expression more serious than usual.

“Would you like to go to my house?” he asked, a mix of doubt and hope in his voice. He knew that things between you weren’t clear, but it seemed that, at that moment, all he wanted was to be alone with you, without the pressures of others, without the whispers or the stares.

You couldn’t help it. You felt a mix of fear and desire, but deep down you knew that you needed to be with him. You needed more of him, even if it was just for one night, to feel that everything you had lived together didn’t vanish into the air like a lie.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice soft but firm, without thinking too much about it.

When you arrived at JJ’s house, the darkness of the night almost completely surrounded it. The lights off and the relaxed atmosphere of the house seemed to be a refuge from everything that had happened in the last few weeks. JJ led you to the door, and as you entered, he closed it behind you with a soft “click.” The silence was overwhelming, but at the same time liberating. You were alone with him.

You both looked at each other in silence for a couple of seconds, as if the space between you was too big to fill with words. Finally, JJ was the first to break the ice.

“I can put on some music if you want, or…” he started to say, but you stopped as you walked towards him.

“No need,” you said, and without thinking, you took his face in your hands, looking him straight in the eyes. Words were unnecessary, the desire was in plain sight, palpable.

The atmosphere immediately tensed. JJ couldn't help but smile slightly, that smile that melted you from the inside. Then, without saying anything else, he leaned his head towards you and, in a gentle movement, began to kiss your neck. His warm breath was the only company in that instant, and the tension you both felt grew as his lips slid to your jaw, and then to your lips.

The kiss you shared was immediate, loaded with all the repressed passion you both had kept during this time. JJ didn't stop. He put his arms around you, shortening the distance between you, gently pushing you towards the nearest wall. You felt his body against yours, the heat and the shared need. Each movement was like a sigh of relief, of surrender to the inevitable.

He pushed you away for a moment, his breathing agitated. His eyes scanned you, and for a second, you could see the mixture of desire and concern in his gaze. You didn't know if he was also fighting what he felt, if he felt the same as you: the fear that this was nothing more than a mistake.

"Are you sure?" he asked, although his hands were already on your waist, as if he couldn't wait any longer.

"Yes, I'm sure," I answered, before kissing him again, leaving no room for doubt.

The rest of the night was a mix of kisses, caresses and whispers. Every time one of the two separated a little, the other pulled him back, as if they couldn't stop touching each other, being together. He led you to the couch, where they continued exploring each other, without hurry, but with an urgent need to feel closer.

Finally, he carefully lifted you up, taking you to his room. The dim light of the table lamp was the only thing that illuminated the place. JJ didn't let you speak, he didn't want you to say anything else. He gently laid you down on the bed, his hands running over your body with familiarity, but at the same time with a gentleness you had never experienced.

The touch of his skin against yours, the way his fingers explored your forms, made you feel more alive than ever. There were no doubts or regrets in that moment. There was only that deep connection, that feeling that went beyond physical need.

You both knew that, at the end of the night, the consequences would be difficult to face. You knew that what had happened between you would complicate everything even more, but at that moment, you couldn't think of anything other than the intensity of what you shared.

As the night progressed, the caresses became more intense, and the kisses deeper. When you finally succumbed to the desire to be with each other, everything else disappeared. The physical and emotional connection you shared was something that neither you nor anyone else could undo.

Dawn came, but neither of them was in a hurry to face the outside world.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x kiara carrera

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