#i just have to pretend none of it ever happened and its okay that hes still such a big part of my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

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looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

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

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.”

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it.

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly.

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely.

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read.

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted.

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.”

Roman….

He confuses her.

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly.

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears.

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space.

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different.

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?”

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly.

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate.

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.”

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical. “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer.

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me.

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me.

I’ve never had a man be nice to me.

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them.

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins.

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began.

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins.

This is one of those moments.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night.

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman.

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing.

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins.

She has no idea where Solo is.

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.”

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains.

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot.

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi.

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word.

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment.

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable.

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected.

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman.

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line.

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she’s not going to like this advice.

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body.

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name.

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia.

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on.

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions.

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks.

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.”

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat.

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now.

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information.

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman.

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her.

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is.

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister.

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul.

Roman simply states, “talk.”

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome. Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health.

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her.

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage.

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her.

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can.

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.”

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand.

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two.

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him.

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised.

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him.

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination.

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering.

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard.

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room.

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop.

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood.

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage.

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from.

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed.

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, ��we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough.

“Make it 20.”

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.”

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way.

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck!

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack.

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head.

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands, “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate.

That only pisses him off even more.

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt.

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves.

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red.

He knew something happened to her.

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped.

Beaten.

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom.

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall.

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana.

He’s fucking breathing rage.

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better.

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault.

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket.

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get.

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps.

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before.

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety.

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost.

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic.

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is.

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did.

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?”

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable.

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x poc!oc #roman reigns x reader #arisnotebook

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januaryrabbit · 5 months ago

Note

Request: how svt would deal with their crush being in a relationship already (their crush is their bff)

hello! thank you for requesting, im sorry its so late!! :) this scenario is kinda angsty so i hope you dont mind!!

seventeen when their crush (who happens to be their best friend) is in a relationship!!!

pairing: svt x gn!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst, Simping, Yearning

other disclaimers/notes: lowercase intended; barely proofread because it's 4am!!!, i’ve been watching wayyyyy too many coming of age films lately lmao!!!

✩‧₊˚Cope (trying to be normal)

vernon: vernon rolls with the punches in most any circumstance, and this is no exception. like Yeah….this shit sucks….but you guys are best friends, so he has to deal with it. i don’t think this would affect him too much tbh,,,like i think the fact that he’s in love with you is something he rarely even admits to himself. i feel like he always has it in the back of his mind, but nothing more than that. i think he’d be able to ignore his feelings the most successfully out of all the members because vernon’s realistic with himself and he knows there’s no point in being hurt over something that’s out of his control. none of this stops him from loving you, but that’s something for him to know and you to never find out lol. seungkwan knows about vernon’s feelings btw. he (vernon) figures that if he had to tell anyone…it would be him, and for whatever reason, he felt compelled to tell at least one person about all of this. vernon doesn’t know why, but it feels better knowing that someone knows his true feelings, even if that someone isn’t, and probably can never be, you.

s.coups: you know that face he makes after the girl rejects him in mansae??? Yeah. Yeah that’s him at all times lmao. he cant say hes mad at anyone in this situation, except maybe the universe lmao. i think he just regards this whole situation has his life’s hugest bruh moment LOL. he’s gotten okay at pretending like everything’s fine when he’s around you, because in his mind, there’s nothing else he can do. there was no way he was going to end his friendship with you, but there was also no way he could confess his feelings to you. in private, he’s talked to some of the boys about it in private - mostly jeonghan and joshua, but sometimes when he’s feeling particularly frustrated with the situation, he goes to woozi, who is able to ground him every time he feels like he can’t take it anymore. seungcheol knows that to others, being friends with you while still being in love with you doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense; but if it meant you were still in his life to some capacity, that was all that mattered to him.

joshua: the definition of smiling thru the pain…like he’s literally katy perry They ask you how you sre and you just have to say that youre fine even though youre not fine like. i think more than anything, he’s not too torn up over this situation than he is irritated. the mention of your partner makes his eye twitch LMFAO. like when you come back from going on a trip with them, you start telling joshua about everything you did together and he’s like THAT’S SO COOL Y/N . I’M SO GLAD YOU GUYS HAD FUN. *eye twitch* LOL. tries his best not to go overboard with it or make it obvious that he’s being sarcastic - he’s aware enough to know that your happiness is important and that unless there’s a legit reason one day, he doesnt have any grounds for disliking your s/o too LOL. i think he’s probably overly cautious if you ever tell him that you and your s/o were having problems as well. like he would be try really hard to be neutral if you ever asked him for his opinion on a situation that happened between you and your partner. i think he would feel guilty about being your confidant while having these feelings for you,,as much as he wants to tell you to break up with them and be with him instead, he knows how terribly selfish of him it would be to put you in that situation. so, he endures it everyday.

dk: dude……HE IS ALSO SMILING THROUGH THE PAIN…..but like HES ALSO CRYING….SO BAD….like. he tries REALLY hard to keep everything lighthearted around you - any time the conversation gets even close to being serious, he always pivots to a different topic. some of the other boys can tell something’s the matter when he’s around you, but they can’t quite place what’s different about him. when he’s around you, he just seems ever-so-slightly…off. his smile is less bright, his jokes are a little less frequent, and he’s actually kind of quiet when people are around you two. it’s a weird sight to see, and dk knows this; he knows that others have noticed, but he’s trying as hard as he can to behave as naturally as he can around you. i think he’s one of the members that would be pretty broken up about the situation, similar to mingyu. i don;t see him being able to deal with something like this well. i think he definitely goes to the other boys for comfort about this, to the point where his feelings for you are kind of an open secret amongst them lmao. (except dino because seungkwan begged everyone not to tell him because he thinks dino would make it obvious that dk likes you so they leave him in the dark!!!)

seungkwan: bruh seungkwan tries so hard to be normal around you but then he’ll text vernon “im third wheeling y/n again please kill me” in the same breath. sometimes when he’s falling asleep at night he’s just like god how did i end UP in this situation!!!!! he’s more of the kind of person who’s pouty about it instead of sad about it. he just finds the situation annoying more than anything, and he wishes that you would just REALIZE HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU ALREADY!! but he’s alright with waiting it out. i think he’s one of the members who would be not very fond of your partner LMAO. every time they greet seungkwan he’s just like “oh hey -___- how are you -___-” and your partner is like babe how do i get seungkwan to like me and you’re like HAHA he’s just like that, he needs to warm up to you!! (seungkwan knows this is not the case with this specific person.) but yeah, i think seungkwan also holds out hope that one day the two of you will end up together. i don’t think he would go as far as to ruin your relationship or influence you to break up with your partner, but i think he would definitely confess if you ever became single again LOL. i think it would be a teary confession too, because he’s been bottling up all these feelings for a while.

✩‧₊˚depression.

chan: oh my lee chan…i think he would fucking die in this situation!!! it would just, Destroy him. and you could tell there was something seriously wrong…he just wasn’t his usual excited self anymore, and he was suddenly beginning to avoid you out of nowhere. dino doesn’t want to do this; he doesn't want to be anywhere but by your side, but that place isn’t for him anymore and he knows that all too well. i think he would be one of the only people who would actually confess his feelings at some point, regardless if you were in a relationship or not. i think one day he would reach his breaking point and ust blurt it out because he just can’t take it anymore. i think part of him, although he feels guilty for it, knows that telling you about it is the first step he needs to take for him personally to move on. the only thing that hurts him more than not being able to be your person is keeping a secret this huge from you.

jun: dude this is the cat version of a kicked puppy. like. jun is NOT ok…..and he’s not very good at hiding it i think. i think you’d be able to tell that something was wrong, but jun is terrified about talking about this with you, so you never really find out what’s bothering him. i dont think he’s one who would ever end up telling you about his feelings. in fact, he might be one of the only ones who lets your friendship naturally drift apart because of his feelings for you. it’s not that he doesnt want to be in your life, but he also wants to get over you more than anything. but i think it would be incredibly difficult for him to see you as just a friend tbh, so for as long as you’re dating your partner, i think he’d keep his distance sadly.

hoshi: the light in this man’s eyes have unironically left. like. the thought of hoshi being sad over you……..I CAN’T BEAR IT!!! yeah i think he would take this all pretty hard. though unlike jun, i don;t think hoshi would be able to stay away from you and keep his distance. you’re too precious of a person in his life, and not to say that you aren’t in other scenarios with other members, but i just see hoshi being firm about still being in your life. in fact, he’s one of the few guys that i think is secretly hopeful that one day down the road you’ll end up together. he doesn’t ever voice these feelings to anyone; he knows it’s ridiculous to feel this way about someone who’s already taken, and he feels that if he voices it to someone that he’s going to get bad karma, LMAO. should you ever become single again though is a different story though….

mingyu: for some reason have this vibe that being in this situation would literally destroy him and eat him alive…i just feel like he’s someone who truly loves really, really hard, and adding in the fact that you’re his best friend magnifies the pain by hundreds. what do you fucking do when the person you love most in this world doesn’t return your feelings? he would be really torn up about this because on one hand, he’s never felt this way about someone before, and he wants nothing more than to be with you; but what he wants more than that is for you to be happy, and if that isn’t with him, he has to accept that. sadly, i feel like at some point this would be too much for him,,,like to the point where he keeps his distance from you a bit. he feels awful, but it’s just too hard for him to hear about you and your partner and act like nothing’s wrong when you’re around :(

✩‧₊˚avoidant

woozi: i feel like he might be a little hot and cold about it. he is Not happy in this situation, and it frustrates him that he cant really do anything about it except deal. he doesn't really like talking about your s/o and he tries his best to hide it, but you can kinda tell that there's something wrong. but when you ask him about it, he says he's totally fine! i don't think woozi would dare to ever let his feelings for you come to light, and as unhappy as it makes him to not be honest with you, he just doesn't feel comfortable with telling someone he has feelings for them when said person is in a relationship. as little of a fan he is of your s/o, woozi knows that if he was in their shoes, he wouldn't be happy if someone confessed to you while the two of you were dating. i think he would need some distance to get over you, and i think the only way that it would happen is by throwing himself into his work and begrudgingly spending a LOT of his time with hoshi LMAO!!

minghao: would distance himself by making a bunch of life changes to keep him busy so he can eventually get over you. minghao values you too much, so he figures the best solution is to take time to himself so he can get over you in a healthy way with space from you. he isn’t happy about seeing you less, but he knows that it’s what needs to be done in order for him to heal from this situation. would definitely have a vague excuse ready if you ever asked him why he was distant from you; i cannot see any universe where minghao would ever admit he used to have feelings for you, even if it had been years past. he’s keeping this one in the vault LMAO, not even jun knows!!

wonwoo: bruh…..he’s. he’s in pain. but he’s keeping it all inside. i think he’d feel really selfish for harboring these feelings toward you while you’re dating someone else. your partner was perfectly friendly to wonwoo,,,like it makes him feel WORSE that he’s in love with you. he tries to forget his feelings, even getting into relationships once in a while, but everything always comes back to you. i feel like this is a secret he’s told absolutely NO ONE at all because of how much it weighs on his heart. the only soul who does know to some extent is mingyu, because he caught wonwoo crying one day when he came home early from work. wonwoo didn’t really get into the details, but he did admit that it he had unrequited feelings for someone. mingyu didn’t pry, and he still never has.

jeonghan: there is Pain behind his eyes lol but he is keeping this secret in the Vault fr. Maybe, M a y b e s.coups MIGHT know, but that’s about it. jeonghan is one of the only people i can imagine is completely normal around you and no one can tell that there’s anything wrong. the only reason that seungcheol knows anything is because he knows jeonghan the best, and he could tell by the way that he hung onto your every word that he had feelings for you. but yeah, i think jeonghan would have the easiest time living with this secret from you. sometimes he does feel a little guilty, and honestly sometimes he does flirt with you lightly, but nothing to arouse any serious suspicion. mostly he’ll just say he likes your outfit or something when you’re hanging out, which is harmless in his mind. it does bother him that the person he’s in love with is dating someone else, but i think jeonghan would just be like “what else can i do at this point??” and continue with his life. not much changes between the two of you, besides jeonghan being a little more quiet when the topic of your relationship or partner comes up, but it’s not something you notice anyway. and such is life, whether jeonghan is truly okay with it or not.

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ohnopeh · 5 months ago

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i love the idea that ian finally understands he had been making mickey believe he wasn't loved enough for not singing the paper.

he goes to mickey showing a ring and mickey is hopeful but also wary of what is happening, then ian says it

i love ian, but darling, you can be a bit dumb (its okay you are learning)

what could have mickey possibly thought? that ian will marry him cause gallagher keep their promises? that's all to it? is it not because he supposedly loves him and genuinely wants that?

the look on mickey's face as he realises what ian said makes me think that it was the moment mickey fears were ''confirmed''. ian didn't love him enough, of course he wouldn't, why would he? ian bought the promise ring, yes, but he still wouldn't wear it but hang it on his neck where he can hide it, is mickey not it? and then mickey says it

he realises mickey had been thinking ian didn’t love him and that’s it, he tried many times. by coming out, being there during the whole diagnosis, being broken up with but still thinking of him and hoping to be together, thinking he will be with him in mexico and then getting himself back to prison so that he can be with him, support him through all that. but that was it. he didn't have it in him to fight for them anymore, he had the rights to finally put himself first and say ''that's enough''. ‘you don’t love me enough now, and that’s fine, it’s cool.’

but ian fucked up. he now knows that mickey believed he wasn't enough, he wasn't the right one for ian.

it didn't even cross his mind that it could have been a possibility, cause since the diagnosis, ian had been so sure that he wasn't worth of mickey and the pain that comes by being around him, loving him.

so ian thinks : how can you ever be so sure you love me? how can you even possibly be in love with me when i have such disorder that won't make it easy for you? what do you even see in me to think i'm worth all of that?

the only explaination ian can think of for someone like mickey to fight so hard for their relationship to work is that : he's either crazy or he never experienced any other type of relationship before.

cause ian has, ian has dated other people after mickey and none of them loved him. one cheated on him, gaslighting him that it was okay cause it was a chick and not a guy. the other made it a challange for ian to be attracted to him, didn't respect ian when it came to his trauma regarding monica, didn't really care about ian being off his meds, being more concerned that his mania was making him the star of the news and not what trevor really wanted. mickey had never done that, mickey had always been there for ian and he knows that— he knows that mickey is the one he loves and the one that will do anything for him. he broke up with him because he loved mickey too much and wanted him to be free.

being with those people made it impossible for ian to even pretend that mickey wasn't the one he loved and that loved him back.

but mickey? he never had a relationship other than the one with ian, so how could he know that ian is the one if he never dated anyone else? someone ‘normal’, someone that wouldn’t make him worry and watch for his mood swings?

ian is telling mickey that he has a choice to do better— he’s telling him that out there, there’s someone that won’t hurt him, that won’t make mickey think they’re not in love enough to take the big step with him. cause ian knows mickey is everything— but how could mickey know that ian is that for him too?

i love how mickey’s expression changes as ian speaks. it's the moment it hits him that ian loves mickey enough, he loves him too much so that he questions himself just as much, deciding for both of them (once again) what mickey needs and who he shouldn't be with.

and i love that mickey finally understands everything, he understands why ian broke up with him in s5 and tried to move on and pretend mickey wasn’t what he wanted. mickey's first reaction is just to shake his head and say ''jesus christ, ian.''

and ian looks so confused, he might be thinking : what did i say wrong? i know i am right, you know that this is true. i'm a problem, i'm not worth it, can't you see? but that's mickey’s limit, it was ian’s moment to work on his not worthy of your love shit and realise that it’s all bullshit cause mickey is all in for them. he always has been no matter what.

and mickey knows so well that he can't do anything else to prove it to ian. he straight up tells him the answer to lip's ''figure out why you don't wanna marry him.'' 'cause he doesn't believe he's worth it. but mickey has proved him enough, mickey has told him what's ian true fear is and its not mickey's love for him that will fix it. it was ian's job to work through with it (and he did!! of course he did) back when this episode came out, i was so angry and frustrated about it, i guess growing up makes you see things differently uh?

#i legit can't shut up about shit #all i do is rewatch their scenes #draw them #read fanfics that make me think of their canon interactions #so that i end up thinking about those #and just brainstorm things #also tumblr why can i only share 10 pics thats not fair #i want to share every screenshots ever of their scenes #also noel fisher you act with your eyes i love you #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #shameless us

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

Text

undercover peña

javier peña x f!reader

as promised, here's a snippet (50 or so lines) from this writer wip poll game and undercover peña won! so, here we have it. it currently doesn't have a working title, but the premise is:

Javier, who has left the bureau and is now back in Texas wants a simple life. But, when Steve offers him a job to go undercover with a fellow DEA agent, posing as a married couple to gather information on a potential new player, he finds it difficult to refuse.

warnings: none, except my unedited writing.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

Wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“Try not to fuck her, Jav.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—nor that he’s happy, content. A glow to his skin, he suspects, isn’t just from the sun, but knowing his wife is able to sleep and getting the chance to watch his daughter grow older.

Javier couldn’t relate—not that he’d admit that.

Picking up a ring, he rotates it between his thumb and finger as he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side makes him grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot. Because none look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Handed a file—everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javier knows better. Suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation.

Needing too.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, the tension had been too much. Already beginning to fray him at the edges, as sleep began to be a distant friend. That had just been following the initial phone call.

It hadn't mattered that he thought he'd be okay, his body said otherwise. Remembering—it all coming back to him. The aches, the knot in his stomach. Then there was the way a space had begun to be carved inside of him, a place where a piece of his soul he suspects is meant to be, but was long lost when hunting Escobar.

All of it was made worse by the worried look on his Pop’s face.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain. That this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few weeks, at most.

It didn’t shift the expression—didn’t stop the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness in the air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy home.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand—beginning to gesture, somewhat wildly—likely about to tell him he wasn’t sure.

Javier had been told (on numerous occasions) that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, red blouse and black tailored trousers clicking their heels towards him.

It wasn't anything cliché. Time doesn't stop—the room doesn't silence. But something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters.

Because usually, a woman's figure is what he will admire first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he meets first.

And fuck do they cut into him. Practically reach towards him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, ceasefire, a chance to strengthen his facade as you turn to greet Murphy. But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say commandingly. Body turning to him, hand sticking out towards him—adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air. “Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you.”

an: dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who is lovely and wonderful, and seemed as excited about this as me.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x reader #javi pena x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #narcos x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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this is my first (1st!!) ever request so im sorry if im not clear or if anything is too vague.. </3 just had a thought about virgin!svt member (any one of your choice) x experienced but shy reader?? like they usually tease each other like crazy and reader is kind of cocky and all bratty (basically all talk) but when it comes to actual sex they're unexpectedly crazy shy and the member just 😞😞 cant get enough... im just curious about how you'd write the dynamic :) it can be vice versa as well! feel free to write about whoever comes to mind when you read this!

- anon 🐱❤️

oh my gooood im so honored to be ur first request hihi <3 i hope u like it!!

Show me how

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader

genre: smut, first time, fluffish

warnings: unprotected sex, handjob, mentions of oral, kissing, mentions of making out, veryyyy slight degredation, mentions of restraint, mentions of masturbation

beefboy quotes: "kitten wants seungkwans cock🤧" (im sorry for including this but it made me laugh) "IM WET".

wordcount: 1k

a/n: phew this was a difficult one. im practising writing more detailed smut and do a little less plot lmao. beefboy says its working so im going to trust i did okay haha.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why this is happening right now.”

What you had told Seungkwan was true. You were fairly experienced when it came to sex. However, experienced didn’t exactly equate to confident, even though you might have given him that idea. And it wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t like you had tried to fool him, or pretend you were something you weren’t. All the dirty secrets whispered to make him blush, the not-so-accidental brushes of your ass over his crotch or fingers over his chest, were done out of pure love and adoration. You liked to tease him, and he absolutely loved when you teased him.

You just wanted his first time to be special, and now you were afraid it was all ruined.

“No, why are you apologizing? You’re doing great.”

He was laid out beneath you, already all sweaty and glowy from the heavy makeout session that had prompted the current situation. A large hand gently came in touch with one of the thighs straddling his torso, silently saying it’s okay, we’re okay. And his pupils were all blown out, and the room was dimly lit and humid. It was beautiful and perfect. He was perfect, and you were ruining it.

It all felt completely upside down to you. That he was giving the reassuring words and the calming touches when he was supposed to be the nervous one. He didn’t look nervous at all. He sported that confident smile, the inquiring tilt of his head and he was shirtless underneath your bare thighs.

“I just feel like I've let you down. Like I made you expect all these things for tonight, that I was supposed to be all dominating, and sexy and what not-”

“Babe, you’re literally so fucking sexy.”

“Oh yeah, suddenly having a mental breakdown in the middle of your boyfriend's first time. So sexy of me.”

Without replying he grabbed you by the hips, giving them a gentle squeeze and locking eyes with you for permission. Your ‘yes’ was barely a whisper. Slowly, he shuffled you further down his body, so you were positioned over his cock. His hard cock. Really hard and also, really big. Not that you were surprised.

“You feel that?”

None of you were even moving, not even the slightest, and yet sparks of pleasure were rushing through you. He could probably feel the wetness soaking through your panties and onto the fabric covering his hard dick, but for the first time that night, you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you were nervous, you didn’t feel like you had a single expectation to live up to or promise to fulfill. He was hard, and you had barely done anything, which made you both incredibly relieved and wet.

“M-mhm…”

When he noticed how your shoulders suddenly dropped and your jaw unclenched, he too felt all his muscles loosen up and a held back sigh escaped him.

“You did that baby, made me so hard. Because you’re so sexy, and beautiful and hot-”

“Okay okay, I get it.” Your attempt at shutting him up was to lean down for a kiss, but he just continued to ramble and mumble onto your lips, and you realized you shouldn’t keep him waiting much longer.

“Can I take these off?” You asked, your voice quiet as it spilled onto his lips while your fingers hooked onto the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes, f-fuck, please.”

Before you could even have the chance though, he was ripping them off himself, so you instead took the opportunity to take your panties off, leaving you both fully naked.

“How- How do you want me?”

His question barely registered with you as his dick entered your line of sight. You had seen each other naked a few times, sure, but only for short moments while changing clothes or walking in on the other showering. Now his dick was so up close you could see every vein, every drop of precum leaking down his shaft, and you hadn’t even noticed you were practically laying on your stomach, crosseyed and nearly drooling at the sight.

“Don’t look at it like that.”

His voice snapped you out of your cockdrunk trance and you somehow managed to tear your eyes away from his cock.

“I’m just admiring it.”

“Yeah, I can tell, but please don’t look at it like that for much longer, or I’ll actually cum untouched.”

You giggled lowly before crawling further up his body again. Your noses were touching and his heavy breaths tickled your lips as your hand dragged over his nipples, down his abs until it reached his cock.

“That’d be so hot”, you whispered. Your boyfriend let out a breathy whimper in return, one you so badly wanted to hear again, so you wrapped your fingers tightly around his cock, squeezing until he was throbbing so hard you could have been convinced it was his heartbeat going straight into his dick.

“You like the sound of that? I could touch myself in front of you, have you tied to the bed so you can’t touch me yourself, see how long you’ll last…”

He was already close. Embarrassingly close, but what was he supposed to do? For weeks before you asked him out he would simply think of something gross, like Vernons three week old laundry or the floor in the subway, whenever he accidentally popped a boner around you. But now, that was actually impossible. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but you everywhere, in every corner of his mind.

“Please, I’m so close…” The way your hand alternated between squeezing him at the base and going up and down in a fast motion, was making him dizzy.

“I know, I know. You’ll get what you want”, your hand let go of his cock, as you resumed your position from a few moments ago, straddling him, but now with no layers of fabric between you. Your pussy radiated actual heat, and occasionally a drop of your wetness would fall onto his abs and trickle down towards his v-line, and if he didn’t get your pussy around him now he would probably faint.

“Remind me what it is you want again?”

This wasn’t your usual teasing. Even though your words were bratty as always, they were now laced with something different, something loving. You were smiling adoringly and your eyes were sparkling, and even though you were being so cruel, you were still so doting.

“I Want…Want your pussy. Need it.”

You rewarded his answer with a quick kiss, before lining your entrance up with his cock and sinking down slowly. Seungkwans facial expression twisted into one of pleasure and he was muttering profanities into the air.

“Feel okay?”

He felt more than okay. He had never felt better, but if you began to move even a single inch, he would cum, and he didn’t wanna be that guy.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m fine just, fuck, give me a second…”

“Hm? But I thought this was what you wanted?”

Seungkwan knew you weren’t actually denying his request. You weren’t moving, and you wouldn’t unless he wanted you to. You were testing him. You had a goal, and once you went for something, there was no way Seungkwan could convince you otherwise.

“I do! I do, I just don’t wanna-”

“But I do.”

Your hips began to swivel back and forth on top of him. The subtle movement would have been barely noticeable had he not been so sensitive.

“You can cum Seungkwan, it’s okay. I want it.”

When he didn’t argue further, when he looked at you with pleading eyes, you kept going, escalating the speed of your hips more and more, until your boyfriend was a wonderful mess underneath you, writhing and moaning desperately.

“Cum for me, Seungkwan.”

Your words were the last tug pulling at the knot in his stomach. He was releasing inside of you, coating your walls in white and tensing every muscle in his body. It was only after the fact he got to see it, his eyes struggling to open from how tight they were shut, and once they landed on his cum dripping down your plush thighs onto his stomach it was as if the high just kept running through him.

“Should I- Can I try to eat you out? Can you show me how?”

You hadn’t had expectations of cumming tonight. This was about him. That being said, you were hardly surprised that he wanted to return the favor, selfless as always.

Your mind wandered to just a few moments ago, when you were so worried about ruining this moment. About making him uncomfortable, or doing something wrong, or not living up to his expectations. Now you were realizing that this hadn’t been about expectations at all. It had been about trust. Seungkwan trusted you enough to be his first. To show him how.

And there was nothing more sexy than being trusted.

#seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen oneshot #seventeen request #seungkwan oneshot #bbygirl🦌#svt smut #svt x reader

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mxssingmemories · 1 year ago

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Go Fish, Bitch

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, a little bit of Jared Padalecki x teen!reader as well

Summary: When Jensen gets bored, he tends to cause chaos. Today, he brings Y/N into the chaos, and she loves it. In which a card game commences, and Jensen loses by a long shot.

Warnings: None. Pure, tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: 870 ish.

A/N: Hello lovelies! I'm going to try to start writing for the SPN cast, I honestly really love their dynamic. As always, requests are open :) Feel free to send in any asks/requests/random thoughts!

Standing at the door to Y/N's trailer, Jensen knocked twice. Another boring day on the set of Supernatural meant he had nothing to do. He'd already teased Jared and Misha and filmed his scenes, so for once he could say he had nothing to do.

A minute later, you opened the door.

"The hell do you want, Jense? You know I love you and all, but I'm really trying to do my homework." you grumbled, despite the goofy smile on your face. Truth be told, Jensen was one of your favorite people. Seeing as you were 16 and still in school, Jensen and you loved playing pranks on the rest of the cast. If you asked Jensen, you were the only one who had his sense of humor.

"I'm bored out of my mind, kiddo. I've filmed my scenes and Jare and Misha kicked me out, I literally have nothing to do."

"Fine," you sighed, "come on in." Opening the door, Jensen walked in, plopping down on the couch while you shut and locked the door.

"So, how're you doing today?" he asked, turning on the T.V.

"Please don't make me think about my life." you groaned, laying back on the couch. "what do you wanna do, anyways?"

"Well, I kind of brought cards..?" he said sheepishly, and a smile found its way onto your face.

"Fuck yeah! Ever played Go Fish?" you asked excitedly.

"Okay, first of all, language. Second of all, obviously, I'm not that old." he rolled his eyes, taking the pack of cards out of his jean pocket.

"You shuffle and I'll deal?" you asked, grabbing the hoodie in the corner of the room and doing your best to clean off the kitchen table. He nodded, and you set out a bag of chips. You both sat down, you dealing the cards and Jensen grabbing the bag of chips like it was a lifeline.

"Okay, I'll go first since you so rudely took my focus away from my homework. Any fives?" Jensen groaned and handed you his five, already prepared to lose the game.

"Any twos?" you asked with a smug grin on your face. At Jensen's shit-eating grin, you begrudgingly drew a card from the pile.

"Do you, my fair lady, happen to have any nines?" You sighed as you handed him your card. You both had 5 cards left-the game could go either way.

"Okay. Any threes?" You handed him another card, and he laid down the match with a proud expression on his face. "Aces?"

"Nope. Go fish, bitch." Jensen gasped, pretending to be offended. He drew a card.

"How dare thine disrespect me like that!" he exclaimed in a posh accent.

"Well, British guy, do you have any Kings?" Jensen threw his King across the table.

"Queens?" He once again threw a card at you. You decided to test your luck.

"Any twos?" He muttered some version of a curse word as he threw the card at your face. You had two cards left, and he knew he was screwed.

"Any fours?" He shook his head, and you drew a card with a sad expression on your face.

"Do you have any Aces?" he asked, hopeful. "Nice try, Jens. Nope! Go fishin'."

"Do you have any sevens?" you asked, and he once again handed you his card. "I'm really good at this," you mumbled, once again left with only two cards.

"Do you have any jacks, Jay?" you asked, your grin only getting wider when he handed you his card.

"Do you...Jensen Ackles... have an eight?" "Fuuuuck!" he exclaimed, hurling his card at you.

"I WIN!" you yelled, getting up and doing a victory dance that could only be described as terrifying.

"Y/N, you probably just alerted the whole crew of your little victory," Jensen sighed, throwing his head in his hands dramatically.

"Well excuse me if I'm a little excited about my win. I've been having a rough day, you can't rain on my fishy parade."

Jensen accepted the loss, and gathered the cards, putting them back in the box. He smiled as you practically dragged him to the couch, throwing yourself on top of him to get in your self-proclaimed "spot".

"Watch yourself, squirrel, or I'll throw you right off the couch!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatcha wanna watch?" you questioned, grabbing the remote off the floor where it fell during your scuffle.

"Brooklyn Nine-Nine?" he asked hopefully, and did a happy dance as well as he could from his position. You put on his favorite episode, the one where Jake tries to join a bike group to find out evidence.

You both end up falling asleep curled up on the couch, and when Jared comes to get you because you missed a scene, he audibly 'awws' when he sees the scene. Quickly taking a photo and posting it on his Instagram to make the father-daughter fans happy, he wakes you two up gently.

"Y/N, honey, you missed your cue. The directors are calling for you, c'mon."

At his call, you rush out of the trailer, homework long forgotten.

Jensen may or may not finish it for you, but if asked, he will definitely deny it. It's a dad's duty, right?

#spn rpf #jensen ackles x teen!reader #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles x daughter!reader #my writing #in love with this #supernatural

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butgilinsky · 1 year ago

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i should’ve fought harder | tj

warning; language, mentions of drinking, mentions of violence (its hockey babe)

summary; What happens when you both find out that your messy breakup was the biggest mistake of all?

word count; 5k+

this is for @typical-simplelove as a part of @wyattjohnston summer fic exchange💓i hope you enjoy it bb

You’d be lying if you said you cut him off entirely after that night. It was nearly impossible to cut him out of your life after all you’d gone through together. Sure, it only spanned over a year in all actuality, but it felt like you had spent an entire lifetime by his side. Now you were expected to do a complete 180 and pretend like none of that ever happened? It didn’t feel possible.

You’d also be lying if you said you wanted to cut him out of your life. You weren’t the one that wanted to end things in the first place. You tried to work through all of your differences, tried to work through the different lives the two of you led. You tried everything you could possibly think of, but none of it was enough to save the life you’d built with Tyson.

It also didn’t help that you had heavily intertwined your lives before breaking things off. You were one of the first things that grounded him in New York. Too many nights were spent with him expressing gratitude for your presence helping him adjust. Despite your many reminders that he had friends on the island and in the city, his appreciation was always given to you.

You still got questions about him, despite all of your friends knowing that you weren’t together anymore. It didn’t matter that the break up was messy, nothing was enough to get people to stop asking. It probably didn’t help that you still hung out with mutual friends.

He experienced the same thing to a certain degree. It was a weak spot for him. His teammates only used it as fuel when he was having an off day. He'd never admit it, but it was the one thing that really set him off when he was on the ice.

He was always able to step away from his personal life when he was on the ice. He used to be the best at it, but with the newfound ammo, there was something that would set off Tyson Jost every single time.

It's not like he advertised it, telling every other team in the league that the only thing they had to do to rile him up was mention your name. Once one person caught on, it felt like every hockey player in North America knew about the boy’s soft spot.

He'd gotten into two fights this week alone, which wasn’t like him. It might have been more than two if Jeff hadn’t been there to talk him down from the ledge on more than one occasion.

He didn’t know you still watched his games. In fact, he thought you’d rather drop dead than show up to another hockey game. He didn’t know that you’d asked Jeff to get you into the first few games after the breakup, since you’d sworn the winger to secrecy each time he helped you.

Eventually you resorted to watching their games in your living room, wrapped in the last sweatshirt he left at your apartment, a bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table at the ready. You didn’t even bother to pull out a glass.

The first fight, although confusing, was written off by you initially. He played hockey, fighting was practically inevitable. It wasn’t a part of his game usually, he wasn’t the most violent player, especially in New York. The second fight of the week, however, raised some concern in your chest.

Jeff had texted you after both games, assuring you he was okay and that the game just got the better of him. You weren’t sure it was true but appreciated the sentiment anyways. Tyson had been on edge for weeks, but Jeff wasn’t going to tell you that. He didn’t think it would do either of you any good.

Then there was the night that he was on the end of a nasty hit, one that had him hunched over on the ice for longer than anyone wished he’d been, gripping onto both sides of his head after violently ripping off his helmet.

You were at work, hand over your mouth as you stood at the bar, frozen in place. There was a tray of drinks sitting in front of you, getting warmer with every passing second, but you couldn’t move.

“Y/n.” Reyna, your best friend at work, gripped your elbow gently to tear your focus away from the screen. “I'll take these. You go check your phone.”

You mumbled the table number to her quickly before flying to the back room, fishing your phone out of your bag quickly and trying to think about how to go about this.

You couldn’t call him. He'd be confused at best. He probably wouldn’t answer. You couldn’t call Jeff, he was still on the ice. In fact, every other person you thought of calling was out on the ice. Even Mat was in the middle of a game. You’d have to wait for intermission.

So you texted Jeff, knowing you wouldn’t get a response quick enough, but figuring it was better than any other option you had.

i’m at work, but i saw the hit. just please tell me he’s okay.

You had to go back out and clear the rest of your tables. It weighed heavily on your chest for the rest of your shift. Two more grueling hours had passed by, and when Tyson never came back out onto the ice, you knew something was wrong.

You lunged for your phone after clocking out, ripping it out of your bag and fumbling to punch in your passcode.

minor concussion, massive migraine. he’ll be alright, but he’s out for a few weeks.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily both out of relief and in slight distress.

You remembered a time where you’d spend nights running your fingers through his hair gently, massaging and softly scratching at his scalp to soothe his migraines. You’d sit in the dark for hours, barely even speaking while soft music filled the room.

His head would sit in your lap or on your chest, your nails running up and down the span of his back. Then there were the days where he was so sore he could barely move. You’d spend hours rubbing out knots from his muscles and doing anything you could think of to help him relax.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore. It wasn’t your job anymore.

You thought it would get easier. You thought that it would get worse before it got better, but as weeks turned into months, you began to realize that things may never get better. You couldn’t let go of him.

His words would replay over and over again in your mind, a loop that had no ending, it seemed.

“I’m tired of fighting, Tys.” you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you watched him lean back into the couch.

“Maybe if you didn’t stick your nose in my business all the time, we wouldn’t have to fight.” He lifted the hat off of his head and ran his fingers through his hair, not missing the way your eyes followed his hand before he placed the hat back onto his head.

“I'm sticking my nose in your business? You haven’t spoken to me in almost three weeks!” your voice raised again, earning a guttural groan for the boy as he rose to his feet, standing just above you.

“Talking to you is exhausting sometimes.” His voice was calmer than yours, and he didn’t have the same wall of tears built up in his eyes that you did. He was angry at you for whatever reason and your heart was breaking. This might be the final nail in the coffin of your relationship.

Your bottom lip wobbled as you looked down at your feet, feeling him brush past you as he headed towards his bedroom. There wasn’t a single touch or glance as he hurried by.

“I don't think this is working out.” you shook your head, sniffling in an attempt to suppress the tears that threatened to spill over.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. What don’t you understand, Y/n? I don't want to be with you anymore. I don't want to deal with this shit anymore.” The venom dripping from his voice was hard to shake off. He never sounded like that with you. Disbelief flooded your senses as you stared at a boy you weren’t even sure you recognized anymore. “Just go, y/n.”

“Tyson, please-”

“Just get the fuck out, y/n!”

It seemed like a bad dream every time it replayed in your mind. The way he slammed the door shut behind you. The way he waited two weeks to call you, only in search of a sense of comfort that he knew you’d be willing to give him.

You ended up in Tyson’s bed three times after that, each one breaking your heart even further as you neared the realization that he wasn’t going to change his mind. It was a hard pill to swallow, and the void was still a large hole in your chest, but you had come to the understanding that you and Tyson needed to be separated in order to get through this.

He returned back to the ice as soon as he was cleared to play, throwing himself into it more than he ever had before. He barely talked to anyone outside of the team, and people were running out of ways to reach out to him.

The first time the two of you ended up in the same room together was completely accidental. Tyson had made sure he didn’t end up at your restaurant on nights out, always too scared that you’d be working the same night. even on days he knew you never worked, he didn't risk it.

You let your friends pick the bar that night, which seemed to be a mistake now. You should’ve just picked one. You would’ve picked one you knew he never went to. But as your luck ran out, you found yourself pressed against the bar, flagging down the bartender when a hand landed on your back.

You turned over your shoulder, not being able to stop the wide grin that spread across your lips. You threw your arms around Mat’s neck, hugging him tightly and listening to him chuckle beside your ear.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Though you hadn’t seen him in a few months, you had heard from him just last week.

“I know.” You stopped yourself from scanning the bar over his shoulder and settled on letting your eyes settle on the boy in front of you.

Mat and Jeff were two of the only mutual friends you shared that still reached out. The rest of the sabres had taken obvious sides to “keep the peace”. Jeff knew you better than they had so it was difficult for him to cut you out. Especially when he knew how your brain worked when you were alone. He knew you needed some line of connection to Tys.

Mat’s situation was a little easier. Though New York wasn’t all that large, being on a different team made it easier for Mat to separate you from Tyson in his mind. It wasn’t often that he saw Tyson between their schedules, and he’d never stop pointing out the obvious.

Mat introduced the two of you when Tyson moved to Buffalo. He knew he needed good people around him after his hectic years since Colorado. You l didn’t live far from Tyson, and Mat’s raving review of your restaurant put the final stamp of approval on it all.

“You can ask, you know?” you shook your head, chewing on your bottom lip nervously.

“I don't need to ask, Jeff. I know he’s here, and I know that he probably knows that I'm here. It’s not like I can ban him from stepping foot into the same building as me.” Even if you wished you could. Your head snapping back to the bartender as he sets four cups on the counter in front of you.

You reached for your wallet just as your wrist was caught in Jeff’s grip. He told the bartender to put it on his tab that he had started not too long ago. You thanked him and he waved you off quickly.

“How is he?” Your curiosity got the best of you, seeing as you hadn’t spoken to Tyson in so long that you weren’t sure how he was truly doing off the ice.

“Awful.” Jeff offered you a sad smile, letting a heavy sigh pass his lips. “He fucked up, y/n. Maybe beyond repair, but he hasn’t been the same since the two of you split.”

You took a sip of your drink, hoping that the alcohol would wash away the nerves growing in your chest. You knew Tyson had at least some regret from the way things ended. You had drunk voicemails to prove it. That didn’t mean you were ready to jump back into something that ended the way it did. Part of you never believed it was entirely genuine.

“I have to go back to my table, but it was nice to see you, sunshine” he nodded, letting you wander off with one last smile.

You flung yourself into the empty seat at your table once you returned, throwing your head back against the wall as you let out a heavy sigh. It caught the attention of your friends, who were quick to ask what was wrong before you heard a gasp from beside you.

“Out of all the bars in the fucking city?” you nodded, following her line of sight only to be filled with instant regret.

He was laughing, a wide grin on his lips as his head tilted back ever so slightly. You felt your stomach twist, nausea mixing with nostalgia as you longed to hear the sound he was creating.

“Drink this.” you turned to your friends, head slightly foggy as you pulled yourself out of your current headspace.

You don’t know when they got shots, but you were quick to throw one back, and one more before Selena was gripping onto your hand and pulling you out of your chair.

You could barely hear the song, just feeling the bass in your hips that moved sensually. You laughed loudly at your friends around you, pressing themselves against you in an attempt to distract you. It had been slightly successful and you almost forgot about the boy’s presence at the bar.

You hadn’t thought much of it as you told your friends you’d be back after a bathroom break. They stayed in the middle of the crowd, though they did keep their eyes on you as you slipped into the hallway with the bathrooms.

When you walked out, wiping the excess water off onto your jeans, you almost ran right into someone, eye level with their chest as you almost sputtered out an apology.

Almost.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, right in front of you for the first time in months. He clearly didn’t know what to say anymore than you did, because it took a minute for you to spit out a coherent thought.

“Hi.” you spoke softly, wanting nothing more than to kick yourself for being such an idiot.

“Hi.” his voice was just as soft, barely reaching your ears over the loud music.

You froze then, your mind void of all thoughts you previously had. You didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t know if you should say anything. You hadn’t spoken to him in months, what were you supposed to say now?

“Y/n, listen-”

“Y/n!” you turned to the sound of your name being called, eyes landing on selena who stood at the other end of the hallway with hands on her hips. “We ordered shots!”

Selena knew what she was doing, and you and Tyson both knew that. She wasn’t trying to be all that discrete, her eyes burning holes into the side of Tyson’s head as she silently tested him. She expected Tyson to try to fight back against her, fight to keep you in front of him for just a moment longer, but he didn’t.

You nodded, glancing at Tyson one last time before walking towards your friends and grabbing your savior’s outstretched hand. You squeezed it softly, thanking her for helping you once you were out of earshot.

You probably had three more shots before the boys saw you again. You were level headed enough to walk, but your filter had completely left you as you let your muscles finally relax.

Your night had taken a turn for the better until you felt an unfamiliar set of hands land on your hips, gripping you tighter than you wanted to be held. You turned over your shoulder, moving out of the grip of the man you were unfamiliar with.

“What's wrong, gorgeous?” you rolled your eyes, annoyed with the fact that he felt entitled to a reason why you didn’t want his hands on you.

“Don’t touch me.” you shouted over the music, turning back around towards your friends when you felt his hand back on you.

This time his hands were off of you before you had even moved, confusion flooding your system as you turned around. You were drained of any intoxication you currently felt as you jumped to pull Tyson back, not wanting him to get caught in a bar fight just after he returned to the league.

“Tys, stop.” you moved in front of him, your hands flat on his chest to keep him away from the other guy. His nostrils flared in anger, his eyes not even looking down at you as he looked over you to glare harshly at the guy behind you.

“You can’t get into a fight right now. You just made it back to the league.” his eyes snapped down to you then, his face draining of any anger he previously felt as a soft smirk inched up his lips.

“You’re keeping tabs on me?” you rolled your eyes then, huffing in newfound annoyance as you dropped your hands from their place on his chest.

You took a step towards your table, only to be pulled into a familiar pair of arms. you avoided his eyes until he brought a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head back far enough to look up at him.

“Come home with me.” you sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut when his hand moved from your chin to your cheek.

He smiled when you leaned into his palm, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of his hand before looking back at him. The phrase of denial sat on the tip of your tongue, threatening to fall past your lips despite you wanting to give in more than anything.

You looked over his shoulder, catching sight of your friends who had different expressions adorning their faces. Selena clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head gently at you and watching your shoulders slump in defeat.

“I can't.” you pulled his hand away from your face slowly before walking past him, towards your friends but not stopping to address them.

You gathered your things from your table and grabbed your card from the bar before walking out of the bar, leaving your friends and Tyson back in the bar behind you.

You shouldn’t have been all that surprised when he ended up in your restaurant just a week after that, letting profanities slip underneath your breath when Reyna gave you the heads up that they were in your section.

She offered to take their table, but you told her you had it under control. Besides, it’s not like he came alone.

You couldn’t help but smile when they clapped at the sight of you. The loud interruption wasn’t all that surprising for the tables around them, given that it was a sports bar in New York. There were always people screaming and clapping from tables.

Tyson sat in the aisle seat, which you noticed within seconds of seeing their table. Jeff sat beside him, offering a warm smile when you finally reached the table. Mat and Anthony sat across from them, and you noticed another table of hockey players just beside them, another table in your section.

“What did I do to land all of you guys in my section?” Your smile was refreshing for Tyson to see.

He hadn’t been able to get you off his mind for the past however many months, but the last week was brutal. After having you right in front of him, leaning into him like you used to do, he knew there was no going back. Any progress he made, which wasn’t much, was lost the second you pressed a feather soft kiss against his hand.

“We asked for you.” Owen beamed at you from the next booth over, hissing out in pain when Jeff reached over the back of his booth and hit the back of his head.

“You weren’t supposed to tell her that, idiot.” you laughed at the interaction between the boys before your head fell to the side.

“Can I get you drinks?” they all fired numerous drink orders at you, but you took mental note of them before smiling warmly and telling them you’d be back in a minute.

You tended to your other tables as well as theirs, bringing everyone drinks quickly before you stood in front of their table with a pen and a notepad, writing down their orders with ease.

When your eyes landed on Tyson, a corner of your mouth curled up gently.

“Same thing?” he nodded, smiling when you scribbled his order down from memory.

You didn’t notice that every time you’d check on them, you’d set a hand on Tyson's shoulder, the other resting on your hip as you looked over the eight of them. It was usually quick, but Tyson felt a fire underneath his skin every single time.

You had expected him to ask something similar to what he asked you the week before. It shocked you to find two empty tables, multiple checks left on the table with various different messages written across them.

The only thing he left you with was an uneven heart at the bottom and a tip that had your eyes practically popping out of your skull. It was something he jokingly did when you were dating, but that was then, and this was now.

In theory, you should’ve probably called him. You should’ve reached out, even if it was just to scold him about the tip that he left you. He was hoping you’d call, checking his phone every five minutes for the rest of the night while his leg bounced in anticipation, but you never did.

He was disappointed, but he thought that was selfish of him. You didn’t owe him a phone call. He'd broken up with you, after all, and you were the one that made this entire process easier than it should’ve been.

You should’ve screamed, should’ve pushed him away after all he’d put you through. The two of you had ups and downs, riding an emotional roller coaster all the way to the end. but you couldn’t push Tyson away. You couldn’t cut him out even if that had been what you wanted.

You couldn’t get rid of him, and you didn’t want to.

Jeff had practically choked on his drink when you told him you planned on coming to their next home game. He had to drop his phone into his lap in order to finish coughing up a lung, assuring his teammates he was fine and the liquid had just gone down the wrong pipe.

Tyson gave him a hesitant look, not exactly believing that nothing had triggered Jeff’s coughing fit, but didn’t push the subject. If Jeff wanted to keep things from him, he would. There was no breaking that boy once he told himself he’d keep a secret.

Tyson had no idea you were sitting in the crowd. You were a few rows away from the glass, the jersey you’d usually wear still stuffed in the back of your closet. The hoodie you wore, however, did have the familiar logo on the front of it, with the same name and number that you used to wear every other night draped across your back.

It wasn't until he had scored a goal with two minutes left in third period, screaming at the top of his lungs and skating around the back of the net that he saw you. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes locked on you even while his teammates tackled him with massive hugs.

Jeff turned to follow his line of sight, smiling widely and waving at you. you waved back, watching Tyson turn towards Jeff and mumble something before the shorter boy shrugged, laughing when Tyson shoved him playfully.

He turned back to you, eyes filled with a slew of emotions you weren’t able to unpack in the short moment. His lips moved, mouthing a desperate ‘please don’t leave’. You nodded, assuring him you’d stay put after the last buzzer filled the arena.

You kept good on your promise, staying in your seat even as the people around you filed out of the arena. you expected to wait for a while, given that he’d no doubt have to do a media run before he’d be given the chance to shower and change, so you were surprised when he came barreling down the stairs not even twenty minutes later.

You laughed gently when he almost flew right past you, his momentum making it difficult for him to stop on the right row of seats. He watched you stand up and make the short distance over to him, his jaw dropped and mind reeling too fast to form a coherent thought.

“Hi.” you spoke first, seeing the mental roadblock he was currently facing.

He didn’t know why talking to you right now was so difficult. He has just spoken to you two weeks ago, sitting in your restaurant for hours, and that didn’t seem as daunting as this did. maybe it was because you were wearing his name across your back. maybe it was because this is the first game he’d seen you in months.

Maybe it was because he was still head over heels in love with you.

“Hi.” it came out in a breath, almost like he couldn’t believe that he finally got a single syllable past his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Skinner.” you shrugged your shoulders, waiting for a second before a wide grin spread across your lips, a similar one finding a home on Tyson’s.

“I thought I’d never see you in here again.” it shouldn’t have knocked the wind out of you, shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

“Well, here I am.” he nodded, unsure of where to go from here. He didn’t know what this meant, but he was desperate to find out. “Tys-”

“I’m so fucking sorry. About everything I ever said or did that crossed the line. I'm sorry I wasn't the boyfriend you needed me to be, and that I didn't love you hard enough when things went to shit. I’m sorry I fucked it all up, because I swore U wasn’t going to. I told you I was going to be there for you even when it seemed impossible, and I didn't follow through with that and i’m sorry.

“Not a single day passes by that I don't think about you, that I don't miss you. I love you with everything I have and I should've shown you that when we were together, but I didn't. I don’t know how to make up for all of that time, but I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He barely even realized he was rambling, shooting off at the mouth too fast to think about what he was saying. He missed the smile inching up your lips as you listened, letting him get everything off of his chest.

“I should’ve fought harder. I shouldn't have let hockey get in the way of it all. We both had our own shit we were dealing with and instead of trying to help each other through it, I thought isolating myself and shutting you out would make it easier. I was an idiot, y/n, and I know that’s no excuse, but-”

Your hands reached for his head, holding it between your palms and bringing him down to meet you halfway. His lips felt familiar, a sliver of home that you had been missing for months. The rhythm came naturally, moving against each other like you had never been apart to begin with.

You were both slightly out of breath by the time you pulled back, foreheads resting against one another as you both smiled like idiots.

“I love you. I always have, and I always will.” you whispered softly, leaning up to place one more kiss to his lips. This one was softer and shorter, but it was enough to have Tyson’s heart beating at a mile a minute.

“I don’t think I'll ever be able to love another person the way I love you.”

You tilted your head back, just enough to disconnect your foreheads so you could look up at him properly. Your thumb ran across the skin of his cheek, and he leaned into your hand just like you had done at the bar. His lips were soft as they pressed to the pad of your thumb, sending a jolt of electricity down your hand and through your arm.

“Take me home.” you whispered softly, watching his lips turn up in a smile wider than one he’d ever worn before.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want me to.”

#tyson jost #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine #buffalo sabres #tyson jost x reader #summer fic exchange 2k23

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wooimbouttamakeanameformyself · 3 months ago

Text

Okay listen hoes.

I’ve been surfing these anti Danneel, anti Jenneel, anti this and anti that tags for like… over a year. I’ve always been watching from the sidelines with my lil bag of popcorn, given an anon ask every now and again to other blogs, but never bothered to make a post about it. Because I didn’t think it was relevant, correction, I didn’t think Elta was relevant enough to make a venting post about — which is why I’m baffled as to why she even has stans — but also I just figured in the long run, none of our speculations, opinions or posts about this lady mean anything to anyone.

Actually, I may be incorrect there, as the AA’s may butcher me, or worse… Danneel may get Cliff to make another post… sheesh!

But anyway, seeing this latest Wales con, I got a real bad case of FOMO and decided I wanna bitch on tumblr as well (no hate to the bitches, I love scrolling through everyone bitching about the ‘perfect’ couple)

Here’s my take on everything, even tho no one asked:

Yes, it is painfully, horribly, excruciatingly obvious that those two don’t even like each other let alone love each other.

But I’ve seen some people and blogs talk about Danneel physically abuse Jensen, which I just don’t personally believe — each to their own opinion, though — but I just personally haven’t seen any evidence or receipts of that being true. Emotional abuse, yes, verbal abuse, definitely. But physical is something I ain’t gonna say I think is happening.

Danneel’s a bitch, as we all know, as the stans like to pretend isn’t true. But I really don’t think Jensen’s a saint or a victim — and I say he isn’t a victim only because in the end, looking over the financial consequences and the custody of the kids thing that would come with a divorce, she has little hold over him. He has the fame, the money, and what do you wanna bet that all of the Elta followers would do a 180 on their ‘Kween’ if Jensen ever spoke up about anything? And by no means am I suggesting that men can’t be victims before anyone jumps down my throat, I’m just saying that Jensen has the capability to fight back to her or leave her if he wanted to.

But he won’t, because — and I’m bracing myself for the hate I’ll get for this — he’s also kind of a narcissist and a liar!!! 😱😱😱 surprised I’m still writing and wasn’t just assassinated on the spot for saying that lols! Dare I say… he’s just as bad as Danneel in some aspects? That he has pretty privilege? Though not so much anymore since he and Danneel have clearly started doing couples Botox sessions. Wooof I’m really pushing my luck.

Trailed off a lil there, but what I was supposed to say is that he won’t because he’s embedded some kind of belief into his mind that his career will crash and burn if he doesn’t have his perfect ‘family man’ image. Even though let’s be honest about two things, your marriage is probably doing more harm than good to your image, and buddy, you’re a c-list actor who’s acting range is zero to none — I mean, he couldn’t stand playing anyone other than Dean Winchester that he tried, and failed, to make a spin off of Supernatural just so he got to play a brooding, macho hunter again. Though look how that turned out — your career isn’t some sacred artefact that can’t dare even be scratched, all he does these days is make money from cons, and a very occasional cameo playing as Dean in a different font. I’m worried the dude has Foreign Accent Syndrome but with Dean Winchester — as in he’s done it for that long that its irreversibly in his consciousness, to the point Danneel has to tell him to stop being Dean at home (sure she got a dig out of him mentioning that in the panel)

But I’m trying to focus talking about this con so far — even though I’ve trailed off multiple times already — first of all, ignoring the fact it’s insane that Danneel’s even at a Suoernatural con when her character (which was a nepotism role) wasn’t even in a full season, served no purpose, wasn’t even a likeable character — unless you like vapid, vain, and poorly portrayed characters — and added nothing to the storyline. And yet she gets treated like she’s a main cast member? Half of Dean’s flings who were in half an episode served more to the plot that Anael did in the whole five episodes she was on the show! And it pissed me off that Danneel’s getting the sort of treatment of main cast when Gen’s character was actually important to the plot, yet she wasn’t at the con. Not that I think Gen’s that bothered, which shows the difference between her and Danneel.

And apparently she auditioned for every single female role??? HUH?? Are we talking about the same Ms Gurl who made fun of Supernatural in the earlier seasons, claimed to not wanting to interfere as it was Jensen’s thing, demeaned and made fun of fans on twitter, criticised her own husband’s role and showed doubt of the series duration??? Make it make sense.

I’m kind of relieved Jensen hasn’t shared any of his made up domestic stories of them, to try and make it seem like they can even stand each other, although it would’ve been interesting to see him talk about it with Danneel there — just to see her reaction, cause I’m certain Jensen just makes up these stories as he goes along. But I guess my guy couldn’t even manage that, probably not after how much Elta knocked him down in front of everyone — she barely did anything else other than make jabs at him the whole time. Surprised my girl didn’t go blue from all the snarky remarks she was making.

Oh wait, it’s ‘sarcasm’, right? Silly me, I forgot that ‘that’s how they are with each other’ 😐😐😐 even AA’s have spoke up about her behaviour in this con — shows how much effort those two are bothering putting in to keep up the image. But hey, I’m proud that some of the delusional Jenneel shippers have developed a frontal lobe, probably because their self-insert isn’t doing what they want her to be doing!

Anyway that’s all from me, my thumbs hurt, can’t believe I wrote so much. Free will is a crazy thing. Excited to see what kind of hate I get from this ✌️😝

This ain’t grammar checked before anyone bullies me.

#anti danneel #anti jensen #anti aas #anti jenneel #jensen critical #loldontkillmeforthisitsmyopnion

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fangirlwriting-stories · 5 months ago

Text

Strange Reactions

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 23, Danny's family arrives at the hospital.

...

The first person to show up after Tucker leaves is Jazz, and Danny feels the tension in the room morph and twist into another variant.

“How’s the leg?” Jazz asks as she approaches the bed, though she stops before she reaches it.

“Almost good as new,” Danny says, lifting it off its sling. “It’s gonna be so annoying pretending to be hurt for a month and a half.”

Jazz smiles a little, and then fades off into silence. Danny doesn’t want to just leave it that way.

“Thanks for coming,” he says hesitantly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Danny shakes his head. “No.”

Jazz nods a little bit, but Danny can tell she’s not going to say anything else. He’s gonna have to take the leap.

He takes a deep breath. “Jazz, I need to talk to you.”

“Mom and Dad are right outside talking to the doctors,” Jazz says, lowering her voice. “Can they hear?”

Danny winces, and shakes his head.

“I’ll stay after them, then,” Jazz says. “I drove myself up here anyway.”

“Thank you,” Danny says quietly.

Jazz glances back at the door. “Hey, I have an idea,” she says. “But it’s a limited-time offer kind of thing. I think it’ll really help you long term, though.”

Danny narrows his eyes slightly. “What?”

“I don’t think I have time to explain. Let me do the talking with Mom and Dad, okay?”

Danny bites his lip. “What are you going to say?”

“None of the obvious,” Jazz says. “I promise. Trust me?”

The door opens over on the other side of the room. “Danno!” comes his Dad’s voice.

Danny catches Jazz’s gaze before they make it over to the bed and nods.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom says as she reaches the bed and sees Danny’s elevated leg. “Does it hurt too badly?”

“I’m alright, Mom,” Danny says, hoping it comes across as at least somewhat believable, because it’s true.

“I told her nothing can keep a Fenton down,” Dad says with a bright grin. “You’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”

“You have no idea,” Danny mutters, giving Dad a small smile back.

“The nurse says she doesn’t know much about what happened,” Mom says. “Just that Tucker says he found you. Is he still here?”

Danny shakes his head. “He uh, had to go check on Sam.”

“Goodness, Sam’s hurt too?” Mom asks. “What on earth happened?”

Danny looks at Jazz, who takes a deep breath and nods at him.

“Mom,” she says, turning to face her. “Remember when you listened to me talk about ghost psychology last week and you really actually listened?”

Danny turns and stares at Jazz. This is news to him.

“Yes,” Mom says hesitantly, giving Jazz a suspicious look.

“I kinda need you to be those parents right now, okay?” Jazz says.

Mom and Dad both exchange a glance, and then they both nod at each other.

“Okay, Princess,” Dad says, in a surprisingly somber tone for him. “What happened?”

And then Jazz says, “Phantom rescued Danny and his friends from a ghost,” and all of Danny’s muscles immediately tense.

Okay, so clearly he should never trust Jazz ever again, that was a horrible idea. He hadn’t realized that’s what she was going to say!

Except… neither Mom or Dad immediately starts laughing, or telling Jazz how silly that idea is, and how clearly she must have just misunderstood something. Instead, they both just… look at each other again.

Finally, they turn to face him.

“Danny,” Mom says, “is that what happened?”

Danny, feeling thoroughly weirded out, nods.

Dad sighs. “I don’t like the idea of owing that menace anything,” he says, and Danny looks down to fidget with his hands. “But I believe you.”

Danny looks up in shock. “Really?”

Mom sighs, but nods. “If you kids say it, we believe you,” she says.

Danny turns to Jazz. “You’re sure they’re not just overshadowed?”

“Oh, very funny young man,” Mom says, crossing her arms. “Jazz showed us that she’s clearly put a lot of thought into this, and it’s not just something she feels based on instinct. Ignoring scientific research sounds like a pretty silly thing for scientists to do.”

Danny stares at her for another second. Then he looks at Dad, but doesn’t find any disagreement on his face.

“That’s not the most important thing right now, though,” Mom says, stepping closer and sitting on the bed. “First thing’s first. How are you feeling sweetie?”

Like I’m hallucinating, Danny doesn’t say.

“Better,” he says instead. “The nurse said I should heal pretty quickly, which sounds nice.”

“That’s good,” Mom says with a smile. “But you’re still gonna need to use crutches for a little while, just to make sure your leg heals the right way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny sighs. He doesn’t have to fake the annoyance in his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry Danno, it’ll pass before you know it,” Dad says. “And until then, we’ll be there to help you out around the house!”

“Thanks Dad,” Danny says with a smile. Sure, he’s not going to need any of that help, and he’ll have to figure out how best to pretend he does, but the sentiment is nice, at least.

He looks over at Jazz for a second, who’s smiling knowingly at him, and yeah, okay, Danny needs to figure out what the hell is going on here yesterday.

“Hey, uh, Mom, Dad, on that note, can I ask you a favor?” he says.

“Sure sweetie, what is it?” Mom asks.

“They said I’m getting out of here tomorrow, and I don’t really want to have hospital food for dinner. Is there any chance I could have Nasty Burger? You know, since I’m hurt and all that.”

“Sure bud, we can do that,” Dad says. “Jazz, do you want to come too?”

“No, I’ll stay here,” Jazz says. “But thanks.”

Dad nods at her, and he and Mom both head out to get the food. As soon as the door shuts, Danny turns to face her.

“Okay seriously, what did you do?”

“You know that day I missed school because I was ghost hunting with Mom and Dad?” Jazz says, moving to the other side of the bed to sit on the couch underneath the window. “Well, I managed to actually get them to listen somewhere in there. It didn’t hurt that they were already trying to talk to me about our fight, so they were trying to figure out what was going on. I just figured saying Phantom rescued you was a good way to get them to start thinking about that aspect, you know, make things a little easier on you.”

“Well, thanks,” Danny says, not sure what else to say.

Jazz nods. “You said you wanted to talk to me before that, though,” she says. “What’s going on?”

Danny sighs. “Yeah,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize,” he says, making sure to meet Jazz’s gaze as he says it. “I… well, I was kind of being a little like Mom and Dad, I guess. I should have listened when you said you were just trying to help me. You haven’t ever done anything else. Not from the moment you found out about my secret, really. I was just… I don’t know. Stuck in my own problems.”

Jazz nods. “Thanks, Danny,” she says quietly. “That means a lot. And you know, I’m sorry too. It’s your choice whether you want to be friends with Sam and Tucker, or date Valerie. Even if I think you’re making a really dumb decision by it.”

Danny laughs a little. “Well uh, actually,” he says. “A lot has kind of… happened, recently?”

“What do you mean?” Jazz asks, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“I uh, I told Valerie I’m Phantom,” Danny says, and Jazz’s eyes shoot wide open. “And she took it pretty well, considering, but I kind of broke up with her anyway. I think we both just need a little time. And uh, right before you and Mom and Dad got here, Tucker and I talked. And I, you know, asked for some space. From him and Sam both. So you kind of ended up being right on all accounts there.”

Jazz looks at him for a minute, and Danny can’t tell what she’s thinking. Then, after a second, she stands up and walks over to him, and pulls him in for a hug.

“I’m so sorry everyone in your life is being a jerk,” she whispers.

“Well, you know,” Danny mutters, but he hugs her back anyway. “I kind of was too, for a bit there.”

Jazz pulls back and smiles sadly at him. “I’m really proud of you.”

Danny smiles back at her. “Thanks, Jazz.”

Jazz smiles at him for one more second before it drops into a smirk. “And hey, you know, since now you’re a total loser whose only friend is your sibling,” she says, moving to sit back down on the couch. “There’s a spot open in the library for lunchtime, if you want it.”

“Gee, thanks, Jazz,” Danny deadpans. “Just watch, I’ll take you up on that. You’ll lose any peace you once had.”

“Implying I can’t be just as annoying as you?” Jazz asks, grinning at him. “Oh, bring it on.”

“You’re gonna lose.”

“I said bring it!”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #no one knows au #my fic

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alastors-airwaves · 25 days ago

Note

YOU OWE ALASTOR AND HUSK AN APOLOGY!!!! * runs away again*

Lucifer stood at the center of the grand lounge in the hotel, a place that had witnessed its fair share of chaos and revelations, but none quite like this. He glanced around at the gathered crowd, his usual confidence replaced by something resembling discomfort. His gaze briefly met Charlie's before drifting away, and he took a deep breath, preparing to reveal a truth he'd kept buried for eons.

Lucifer: Everyone, I’ve called this meeting to address something... personal. I haven’t been honest with any of you, and it’s time you knew the truth.

Charlie frowned in concern, sensing the weight of her father’s words, while Vaggie stood beside her, arms crossed but open to hearing what was coming.

Lucifer: For centuries, I’ve presented myself as the all-powerful Alpha. But the truth is, I’ve been lying. I am, and always have been, an Omega.

The room erupted into confused murmurs and surprised gasps. Charlie's eyes widened, her hand instinctively covering her mouth, while Angel Dust blinked in sheer bafflement.

Angel: Wait... what? You mean to tell me the King of Hell's been... an Omega this whole time? Hah, you can’t make this shit up!

Alastor, standing off to the side, chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned on his cane.

Alastor: Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I knew there was something off about you, but I didn’t think it’d be this deliciously ironic!

Vaggie, ever the practical one, stepped forward, her eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and curiosity.

Vaggie: So, all this time, you’ve been pretending? I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, but... why?

Lucifer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lucifer: I thought I had to. I thought showing weakness—being seen as an Omega—would undermine my position. But after what happened... after the attack... I couldn’t hide it anymore.

He placed a hand on his stomach, the slight curve now visible beneath his suit.

Lucifer: I’m pregnant. I had to take in the essence of the child Adam was carrying to save them. I... couldn’t let them die.

The room fell silent as everyone absorbed the gravity of his words. Charlie, who had been staring at her father, finally stepped forward.

Charlie: Dad... I don’t care if you’re an Omega or an Alpha. I’m just... I’m just sad that you felt like you had to hide that from me. From everyone.

Her voice wavered with emotion, and for a moment, Lucifer’s stoic mask cracked. He looked at her with something like regret.

Lucifer: I’m sorry, Charlotte. I thought it was necessary... but I realize now, I should’ve trusted you.

Vaggie reached out and gently placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder in support, her eyes now more understanding.

Vaggie: Being an Omega doesn’t make you weak. You didn’t have to hide. It’s okay.

The mood shifted again as the reality of Lucifer’s words settled in, but one person stood out from the crowd, clearly struggling the most—Husk. His fur bristled, ears pinned back, and a mix of anger and disbelief washed over his face. He had been through the wringer because of Lucifer, carrying his child without consent, all while the so-called King had hidden behind a false identity.

Without a word, Husk quietly walked over to Lucifer. The room fell dead silent as all eyes followed him. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his emotions was palpable. When he finally stood in front of Lucifer, his hand shot up with surprising speed.

SMACK!

The sound of Husk’s slap echoed through the room, leaving everyone stunned. Lucifer flinched, his face snapping to the side, eyes wide in surprise. No one had expected Husk to be the one to act so boldly, but the frustration and betrayal he had bottled up came pouring out in that one decisive action.

Husk: That... is for everything. For lying to me. For using my daughter as leverage. For everything you put me through.

Lucifer didn’t immediately respond, his cheek still stinging from the slap. He turned slowly to face Husk, a mixture of guilt and respect flashing in his eyes.

Lucifer: I... deserved that. Husk, I’m sorry. I truly am.

Husk’s chest heaved with emotion, but he didn’t say another word. He simply turned and walked away, back to his place at the bar, the weight of the last few months heavier than ever.

#alastor’s airwaves #Lucifer’s confession #Omega Lucifer #lucifer morningstar #husk #ask husk #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #Charlie #charlie morningstar #Vaggie

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underforeversgrace · 1 year ago

Text

shattered saviors

DannyMay2023 Day 21: Shatter

title: shattered saviors

words: 2475

Complete

Summary: Danny gets a horrifying glimpse into the intense negative reaction of Amity Park, and especially his parents, when Dani is accidentally revealed to be half ghost and is taken into GIW custody. (Courtesy of @danphanwritingprompts post here.)

AU: None/pre season 3

Warnings: Minor Character Death

Beta: @probably-dead

~~~~~~

“In other news today, the Guys in White have released a statement on the hybrid they recently discovered, dubbed Danielle Phantom for her striking similarity to our own Danny Phantom.” The image of the reporter faded, instead showing a picture of a document against a blue screen, various sentences digitally highlighted in yellow as she read them. “Today, the experiment known as Danielle Phantom was successfully Faded. We were able to confirm the hybridism found in ‘Danielle’ was unique and unable to be replicated, there is no fear of other hybrids at this time. We thank the people of Amity Park who have supported us despite the small group of teenage protestors. We hope peace can return to the city, now that the creature has been disposed of. Its connection to Danny Phantom is still unclear, but we will continue to study the remains in hopes of discovering it.”

The image of the reporter reappeared, easily sliding into the next topic - something about the upcoming holidays - but ice began to creep up the screen.

“Danny?” Tucker asked at his side, shivering at the chill coming from his best friend.

The halfa turned to Tucker and he tried to rein in his ice. Tucker was only human, after all. Before Danny could say anything his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, not even checking the caller ID before answering it. He knew who it was.

“I didn’t get her in time.” Vlad said, regret and guilt in his voice.

“She’s gone? She’s really gone?” Danny asked, too numb to even cry.

“I was able to confirm that via my connections, yes. They got me in to see her too late.”

“Okay.” Danny said, ending the call.

His entire being felt disconnected from reality. Danielle was dead. Caught in a trap meant for him. They’d been holding protests for two weeks, trying to insist she was human enough to be released, to not be tortured. Almost all of the youth of Amity had stood behind her, even Wes, who had stopped trying to expose Danny as soon as he heard what happened to Ellie.

But the adults were louder, more able. And they insisted that Ellie was dangerous and needed to be contained. A ghost who could pretend to be human? What havoc could they cause and then fly completely under the radar? The negative influence on the youth of Amity, who were already too pro-ghost to begin with?

Even Vlad had tried to save her - though Danny still was unsure if it was because he genuinely was afraid for her or just that the GIW had a halfa in their custody.

Danny couldn't remember the rest of the night. He just existed, too numb to hurt or think or do anything.

Days passed in that fog. He went to school. He pretended to learn. He stopped ghost attacks. He tried to sleep. Every night, he just faced the same nightmares. Danielle, experimentally tortured until she died screaming, alone and in pain, wondering where her brother/cousin was, maybe even wondering where her father was.

It should have been him. The trap was meant for him. He should be the one dead.

Vlad somehow got Ellie’s body. She had left behind a human corpse, not a pile of destabilized goo. Vlad had tried to check her, to see if maybe she had somehow survived, maybe this was some sort of protective hibernation state. But Vlad looked and he found her still heart, found her shattered core. He and Danny buried her body in the back of Vlad’s mayoral mansion. They didn’t know what else to do. She wasn’t human. She couldn’t get a headstone or a human grave. So instead of being mourned properly, she was placed into a shallow grave, only the other halfas present. No one else had ever met her.

Well, no one else had ever met her who loved her.

No one who had ever met her who hadn’t hurt her, a sin even Vlad and Danny were guilty of.

Still, Danny went to school. Pretended to learn. Fought ghosts. Slept only for nightmares to haunt him.

The other students had looked bad for the first few days. It was hard not to, everyone had seen Danielle’s human side, seen a terrified twelve year old girl who’d fallen two stories after being shot by a power nullification weapon only to be held at gunpoint by government agents while she cried. Eventually, though, even the high schoolers returned to normal.

It should’ve been Danny. Danny should be the one rotting in the ground. Not Danielle.

Not Danielle.

Danny didn’t listen to his parents in the month following Danielle’s death. They wished they had gotten the chance to study her themselves, see how hybridism was even possible. Run their own battery of tests, torture her themselves. The parents didn’t understand why he and Jazz were pulling away from them.

The numbness didn’t let up until six weeks later. A weekend patrol and he’d stumbled across an animal ghost attacking a human on the edge of town, the person hiding under a personal ghost shield of Fenton creation on their wrist.

Danny didn’t even have to fight the animal, it was low level enough he could just trap it immediately in the Thermos. He was about to fly away when the human stopped him.

“Oh thank God, Phantom!” He said, turning off the shield.

Hmph. They didn’t even feel the need for a shield around him, a full ghost for all they knew, yet had damned Ellie to hell under a scalpel. Danny wasn’t going to even respond, just leave, until he recognized the man’s face.

“I know you.” Danny said, the numb mask he’d hidden behind starting to fracture.

“You’ve saved me a few times!” The man said, a relaxed grin on his face.

“You were an organizer for the pro-GIW protests.” Danny responded, ice beginning to form on the ground far beneath his feet, his words cold and devoid of any happy emotion.

The man paled slightly, taking a step back. “Uh… she was dangerous!” He tried to excuse pitifully.

“And I’m not?” Danny asked, drifting closer to the man, less than six inches from his face as Danny’s mask of numbness shattered under the force of his anger, not even blinking. “I’m not?”

“You’re not…” the man gulped anxiously. “Your obsession is protecting us. You wouldn’t hurt us.”

“Obsessions. Aren’t. Real.” He hissed, grabbing the man’s wrist and squeezing until the man screamed. Danny didn’t even know the man’s name, just that he’d been a very public organizer in the campaign to keep Danielle in the government’s hands.

“Stop! Please!”

“Do you think my sister begged?” Danny growled. “For them to please stop as they tortured her, murdered her?”

“Sister?” The man repeated weakly.

“Sister.” Danny confirmed, danger in his voice. Danny had been numb for over a month and a half at this point and now his anger had cracked through the numbness and he found himself understanding Dan a little bit better.

“You’re a hybrid too?” The man realized, visibly shaking in panic, desperately trying to pull his wrist from Danny’s ironclad grip.

Danny felt the grin creep onto his face. He felt like he should probably care that he was delighting in this terror, in what he was about to do. “I am. But I can’t risk the Guys in White learning that, can I?” He finally answered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he squeezed harder on the man’s wrist, shattering both his bone and the personal shield he wore.

The man screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees as soon as Danny released him. Danny had never enjoyed hurting anything and had never hurt a human before, but this was downright elating. “I’m sorry!” The man yelled, looking up at Danny’s angry, unblinking, glowing green eyes.

“I’m not.” Danny answered, uncapping the Thermos and releasing the ghostly animal. The man tried to scramble backwards but Danny summoned a shield, trapping the three of them within it. The animal looked to Danny, submitting to the more powerful ghost, before glancing at the trembling human, whose hand was rapidly turning purple, though the animal did sit, deferring to Danny once more.

Danny hadn’t really looked at the creature before trapping it so he took a moment to study it, the man beginning to sob. Maybe a coyote or wolf? It looked too big to be a dog - not that it really mattered, he supposed, considering Cujo. It didn’t help that the animal hadn’t held its form very well, its edges too wispy and curvy for any real animal. Wolf, he decided.

His study of the wolf done, he returned to the man, staring directly into his eyes. The man flinched at the anger, the rage he saw. “Please…” the man tried to beg, crying. “I have a family.”

“So did she.” Danny said, turning to the animal. “Sic ‘em.” He ordered.

The wolf, despite being unable to truly understand Danny’s words, understood his intent and read his aura. It stood, growling as it slowly approached the human.

Danny had always thought the screams of someone being hurt would rip into his very being, a failure for his self-appointed job of protecting Amity.

But he didn’t feel bad. Human blood had already been spilt here and it hadn’t been by a ghost.

If the humans didn’t even care… why should he? Why should he give a damn about human life?

For the first time in two years, a human had died to a ghost. And Danny didn’t care. They were lucky he bothered to catch the wolf at the end of it, petting its cold head as it licked blood from its muzzle.

The next day was when Danny learned the man’s name. Edward Canton, leaving behind a widow and two young children. Still, Danny didn’t care, even as he heard snippets of conversation at school.

“I can’t believe someone actually died.” An underclassman whispered.

“I didn’t think any of the ghosts would ever actually hurt us.” Another said in hushed tones.

“Are we in danger?” Someone else wondered.

The thing he heard the most, the repeated question.

“Where was Phantom?”

“How could Phantom let this happen?”

“Doesn’t Phantom always protect us?”

The questions were echoed in the news, by the adults, even by his parents, wondering if this death would finally destroy Phantom from his ‘failure’ to save the human, ‘failure’ to sustain his Obsession.

For a city who had let a child be tortured to death for being only part ghost, they were awfully reliant on a suspected full-ghost.

“Are you… the death, are you alright?” Sam asked.

“I can’t always save everyone.” Danny said, feigning sadness.

“How are you holding up?” Tucker asked later.

“I’ll be fine. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He’d answered, still pretending to be sad.

He couldn’t tell Sam or Tucker. They’d never understand his decision to let the man - the man who didn’t even deserve a name, as far as Danny was concerned - be killed. To watch and do nothing. To take pleasure in the screams. They’d worry he was becoming Dan. He wasn’t, though.

Danny tried to put his mask back on after, to be engulfed in the comfort of numbness, but the mask was gone and left only anger behind. He could no longer access the fog that allowed him to drift through life.

More weeks passed, now nearly three months since the announcement of Danielle’s death. Danny had at least found a routine… though it wasn’t his old one. He still went to school and pretended to learn. Still struggled to sleep and battled nightmares of Ellie’s screams. But the ghost fights?

Well… the ones who deserved to be saved, he still saved. Children and teens, people who’d joined the protests, who were too young to protest. But no adult had joined to try to save her. No adult was innocent. Whether through action or inaction, all were guilty of her death.

So he would watch the joy and relief on their faces when they saw Phantom come to save them, only to turn to terror and panic when he trapped them, when he simply stared at them and watched them die. When he grinned at their screams, when he asked them if they thought Ellie begged for her life the way they were begging for theirs.

When they realized their savior was not bound to protecting them and they had pushed him too far.

“Aren’t you going to save them?” Vlad Masters asked, watching people run from the opposite direction, a commotion they couldn’t yet see from the restaurant the two sat at. They’d begun to bond after Danielle’s death, Vlad’s guilt finally soothing out some of his more evil edges and Danny growing more tolerant of what was still there.

“I save innocents.” Danny answered, shrugging, poking at the food in front of him. His appetite still had not returned.

“So the rumors from the Realms are true. You’ve stopped saving people.” Vlad stated, taking a sip of his nearly boiling tea. Heat didn’t hurt him like ice didn’t hurt Danny.

“If they aren’t innocent, yes.”

“Who’s innocent?”

“The ones who tried to save Danielle and anyone who was too young to help.”

“So, what? All the adults of Amity are guilty?” Vlad asked, a smirk sliding onto his face.

“Of either encouraging the GIW outright or of the same thing I am.” Danny confirmed.

“Which is?”

“Watching and doing nothing because it isn’t my problem.”

Vlad chuckled. “You’re becoming more and more like me, little badger.”

Danny paused as he realized Vlad was right. He was making decisions based on who he felt had slighted him or Danielle, decisions with potentially fatal consequences. Again, he sought a feeling of guilt.

Again, he found none. “If they wanted a ghostly hero, they shouldn’t have been so obvious in their ghost hatred.”

“How are your friends and sister taking that?”

“They think I’m ashamed. That I care about and mourn everyone I don’t save. Maybe the town will earn their hero back. Until then?” Danny paused, pointing across the street where an adult woman was cornered, cowering under the glare of two humanoid ghosts Danny couldn’t place a name to. She screamed as their claws dug into her. “Until then, it isn’t my problem.”

“How would they earn you back?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s their problem to figure out. An apology to begin with would be nice. But they’ll never do that, will they?”

And the topic moved to more bland conversations even as the woman’s dying screams echoed around them.

But it was fine. Danny wasn’t actively killing anyone, so he wasn’t becoming Dan, and that was all he’d promised.

#danny phantom #grace writes #dannymay2023 #Day 21 #Shatter #danny fenton

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pastanest · 2 years ago

Text

A/N: if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post.

Negan x she/her!reader

Secret

There isnt a smile on your face, you cant allow yourself to let it show, not to everybody else. But as your hands grip the green fabric of your bag, you can feel the excitement of the smile within you, even when it’s so forbidden. Perhaps that makes it better, as much as you hate to admit it.

Shaking your head, you focus your attention on keeping your footsteps at the pace of a steady walk rather than the joyous skips you wish you could make in time with your ever-increasing heartbeat. Gaze fixed downwards, you do well to avoid any eyes that could be on you, despite being all too aware of just how normal the sight of you on this particular journey has become to practically everybody in Alexandria. None of them know exactly why, though.

“You can head home now, I’ve got it from here!” You greet Michonne, admittedly a little too excitedly, but you’re too close to put it off any longer.

The swordswoman gives you nothing more than a small smile and a nod before she takes her leave, dropping the keys into your hand as she passes you. And then, you’re free.

Fingers trembling, you fumble with the keys to unlock the first door, your heart skipping a beat as you step inside and close it behind you. Giddy nervousness takes ahold of you, and you cant bring yourself to turn around, your view strictly locked on the door.

“Hello again, sweetcheeks.”

Your smile erupts free at last, and you spin on your heel, grinning at him as you pull the wooden stool over to his cell door and sit yourself down in front of it. Chuckling at you, Negan strolls his way over to you and sits on the floor with his arms casually holding his knees.

“Have you got somethin’ for me today, or am I lucky enough to just get your company?” How dare someone with a history as sadistic as his, have a smile as insanely charming as that.

“My company is a guarantee, but I do have something else for you, as it happens.” You hint playfully, gesturing to your bag as you place it on the floor beside you.

On the other side of the bars, Negan raises his eyebrows up at you, pretending to be surprised. “Oh, dollface, you shouldnt have!”

Feeling more like a teenager with a crush with every second that passes, you giggle bashfully and start digging through your bag. In no time at all, your hands grasp either side of the sealed rectangular cake tin and pull it out to show him. As you lift the lid, Negan gasps.

“Okay, you really shouldnt have gone to all this effort for me, you know Im more than happy with just your company.” He says, his guilt evident in his voice.

Sighing, you lift a couple of plates from your bag and a large knife. “I know, but you’re stuck in the dark all the time living on leftovers, it isnt healthy. The least I can do is sneak some sugar into your system and breathe some life back into you.” And with a shrug, you begin cutting into the lemon sponge cake you’d deliberately been saving up weekly lemon rations for. Everyone gets their share, but you needed more, and for that, you had to wait.

To match the gesture, a pair of equally lovesick eyes watch your gentle movements.

Placing one slice of cake onto a plate, you leave the knife on the other plate, and turn Negan’s portion on its side, holding the cake to the plate as you carefully pass it between the bars. When he reaches for it, his fingertips happen to brush your hand, securing the cake to the plate so that you can let go, but you dont, not right away. For one precious moment that you know you’ll daydream about until you see him again, your eyes stare into Negan’s with a longing like you’ve never known. You are under strict orders not to ever unlock Negan’s cell, and you know that if you did, you could never bring yourself to lock it again, so this barrier has parted you since the day you met.

“Why is it this guy’s locked up here?” You had asked innocently, particularly wary as you glanced around at the street that was populated with otherwise normal looking people.

How was it that within these walls, these people had built a society like the world before, with a neighbourhood and even a prisoner? It was a little too unsettling, the thought of what a person would have to do in the world today to be deemed by others unsafe to roam around, but not bad enough to simply slaughter.

“He killed good people, and holds no regret or guilt about it.” The leader of the community, Rick, had explained to you all those years ago.

He was a good man, you knew it even on that first day. It was him that had found you outside while on a run and brought you in, to the first safety you’d known since the world changed.

Your eyes had lingered on the staircase that led to the cell of the mysterious criminal, but Rick led you on. After all, the prisoner was not a destination on your tour. It wasnt until a few weeks later, when the ones in charge had begun to trust you, that you had been properly introduced. Some part of you was desperate just to see him, having heard so many different things about him from everyone in Alexandria. You were so curious that you had even volunteered to take some shifts on watch over him, and that was how it started.

“He doesnt usually care who else goes in when Im already there, so it’s safest if I go in first.” Rick had explained as he led you there, but you’d already passed that place with curious eyes enough times to know exactly where you were going.

What Rick said made sense, you’d heard plenty about his personal rivalry with Negan, and knew that Rick didnt often go to him for fear of trying to kill him if Negan didnt shut up, which he infamously didnt. It seemed logical that with Rick there, Negan’s attention would be fixed on taunting him, and therefore made it safe for you to observe him, get used to the type of things you may hear him say when you were to be alone with him.

“Give me a minute, then come on in. I wont give any kind of signal, makes it too obvious to him, so just come in as quietly as you can, when you’re ready.” Rick gave you an encouraging smile as he held your shoulder, and then both his hand and smile were gone, abruptly turning from you and unlocking the door.

Taking a deep breath, you waited, tapping your shoes against the ground impatiently. Maybe 30 seconds passed before you couldnt take anymore, and you followed Rick inside as quietly as possible.

“-such a lovely surprise to have you visit-“

Your eyes met Negan’s, and whatever he was in the middle of saying to Rick was immediately forgotten. Swallowing nervously, you felt frozen to the spot, and as the stranger smiled at you, something strange erupted in your stomach. If you werent desperate to believe it was anything else, you could have sworn it was butterflies.

“Now, this is a lovely surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, m’lady?” Negan tucked his arm under his stomach and bowed, that dazzling smile charming you even when locked behind bars.

Experiencing things you never thought you’d feel again, like you’d been transported back to the world before, or your memories of it at the very least; you couldnt form a single word to reply to him, and that only seemed to make him grin wider.

Unfortunately for you, Rick took the conversation back after that, and they began their back and forth verbal jabs at each other, while Negan cast flirtatious glances at you. Whenever he said something particularly funny, you found yourself using all your strength to hold back a laugh, while Negan would watch your reactions intently and wink when he saw you really struggling to resist him.

Years have passed since that first day, and so much has changed. Rick sadly passed away, or disappeared, as Daryl likes to say. By now, naturally you know the gruesome details of Negan’s sentence, but you have asked him about every single thing you’ve heard about him, and he has been honest with you. As horrific as his past actions are, you can understand his logic behind them, the rules he had to uphold. Not to mention, you werent part of the group when he was in control of them, so you didnt grieve any of their losses or experience any of their pain. It’s all in the past to you, and you know for a fact that you are the only person here that sees Negan as more than an ancient enemy.

“This is almost as gorgeous as you, how do you do it?!” He asks in humoured disbelief, utterly besotted by you as he picks up some more of his slice of cake and throws it back in his mouth.

Chuckling, you smile at Negan endearingly. “What can I say? Miracles happen when inspired by such a charming muse!”

Negan shakes his head. “Now, dont get me wrong, this cake is fuckin’ good, but make no mistake, the only miracle here is you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you place your own plate down on the floor beside you.

“If I was some miracle, I would’ve gotten you out of here by now.” Your voice cracks with emotion at the end of your sentence and you’re quick to look away from him, always hating when you get upset in front of Negan because he cant reach out and hold you, and you know that kills him.

“Hey, hey, you stop that right now, you’re far too pretty to cry over some guy!” He teases playfully, hoping to bring a smile back to your face, and of course, he does.

You let out a mix between a chuckle and a scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Some guy?! Right!”

Negan grins. “That’s my girl, smile for me.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I just wish-“

Negan cuts you off. “I know, but your life here would be ruined if you helped me, and I wont let you do that, not for me.”

You nod, accepting defeat because you know he’s right. If you got him out, it would so easily be found to be you that had done it, because you would have been on watch when he suddenly disappeared. And if that happened, it would most definitely be you in that cell. Still, that doesnt mean you dont wish for his freedom far more often than you do almost anything else.

Over the past few weeks, though, the thought has been playing on your mind even more. To the point where you truly struggle to get to sleep nearly every night because you’re busy trying to formulate potential plans of breaking Negan out. Each one seems as unlikely as the next, and you continually fall asleep with a sinking feeling as you realise your own failure each and every time. But as the days progress, the threat of the Whisperers grows, taking up the space in conversations around Alexandria that were usually reserved for gossiping about Negan, the same thing happening in official meetings, and you sit back and watch in complete disbelief as Negan becomes an afterthought.

And quite suddenly, you find yourself packing a bag in anticipation of your next night watch shift over your forbidden love, but this time, it isnt a cake tin that’s concealed. It’s cans of food, bottles of water, flashlights, a pair of handguns, ammo, and spare clothes, both for you and a man. The keys to Negan’s cell are already attached to a loop in your jeans, having been to see Michonne when she was on watch before you and pretending to arrive at your post, only to sprint back to your house the second you knew she was gone. You know Negan is going to be worried sick, he knows you were due on watch tonight, and he knows you’re late, but once he realises why, it’ll all be worth it.

The streets of Alexandria are dark as you take your memorised, most discrete route to his cell, avoiding all the points where you know others are posted on watch. When you reach the stairs, you all but jump down them, and this time when you fumble with the keys, you’re so excited you almost drop them.

Stepping inside, you’re greeted by Negan already standing at the very front of his cell, his hands holding the bars of his cell door, his eyes wild with confusion and worry as he stares at you.

“Where-“

But there’s no time for his question, you’ve dropped your bag on the floor, and Negan stops dead in his tracks. That isnt your usual cloth bag, it’s a waterproof rucksack, and it’s packed full.

“What’s this?” He asks, even more confused.

“We’re getting out of here, that’s what this is.” You tell him, speeding over to his cell door and fumbling with the keys all over again, your trembling fingers retrieving a key you’ve only ever stared at longingly.

Shaking his head frantically, Negan walks backwards until he hits the wall at the far end of his cell. “No, not happening.”

You lock eyes with him so that he can see the fires of determination blazing in yours. “This isnt for you, it’s for me, for us. We are getting out of here.”

The cell door swings open, creaking loudly in the silence left behind in the wake of your clarification, your words sinking into Negan like the raindrops he’s only been able to see from the window for so many years.

He takes a single step forward, then another, then another, each as hesitant as the one before. And soon enough, Negan is standing in the doorway of his cell. You step back, breathless as he walks free, but he doesnt so much as glance at the door to freedom, his gaze stays on you, even as tears fill it. Your vision of Negan is blurred by your own, and when you feel his fingertips graze yours, you gasp, tears flowing freely down your cheeks and undeniable butterflies escaping the confines of your body, enveloping the two of you in a moment neither of you will ever forget. The world itself slows to a stop. Not wanting your own tears to blind you for a second longer, you blink them away, and Nega’s other hand lifts to hold one side of your face, his thumb brushing away your tears as he smiles down at you with the love you’ve felt in his gaze for so long, but can now feel resonating within you.

“Where are we headed?” Negan whispers into the silence, and you close your eyes, nuzzling into his palm with a smile on your face that is of complete and utter peace.

“So long as it’s with you, I’ll be the happiest person in the world absolutely anywhere.” You answer, opening your eyes to stare up at him.

Negan smiles down at you, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You and me both, dollface.”

#negan #negan imagine #negan x reader #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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