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casualhedonists · 10 months ago

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter six)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, mild bondage, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 6/6

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: .......13.5k

a/n: WHEW what a wait. thank you, as always, for your patience this past month or so! as i’ve mentioned i’ve been busy as hell, but it is with many internal screams that i can say! welcome to the final chapter of this series!! what a ride we've all had these last few months! buckle up for like. essay length extensive smut and also plot. in varying order. as always, feedback makes my world spin round at rocket speed, and just. thank you guys for all the love ever since i posted chapter one last november (november me with a brand new sideblog had no clue this would become a Thing i finished let alone a Thing people liked!! that's all on you lovely humans. ily)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

Heaven was his head between your thighs.

His hands on you, everywhere. Hot mouth pressed to your skin, your neck, your thighs, your cunt. He was slow. Thorough. Pulling cries out of your mouth that got louder and louder until your back arched on the bed and you lay slumped and panting, twisted in his sheets. Taken apart and stitched right back together.

It hadn’t started like this. Not even close.

You woke to a soft light on your face, the curtains parted slightly. Your throat felt sore, and you were tired. Body heavy, slumped across a bed. His. It came back to you in fragments. The party. The photograph. His hand in your hair. His eyes after, apologetic and pleading. Falling asleep right here, next to him, but there was nobody beside you anymore. Your eyes adjusted to the room; you’d never seen it at this time of day, with sunbeams lighting up the walls. You could hear a soft tapping sound, like rain on the windowsill, but it was a bright and sunny spring day out.

Typing. That’s what it was.

Steady, satisfying clicks as the typewriter punched ink onto paper. You turned your head towards the desk across the room.

Coriolanus was sat there, focused, a breakfast tray pushed to one side. He didn’t notice you for a while, and you rolled over to take him in, a slight squint in his eye as he concentrated. You pulled your tired body up and leaned against the pillows, and he turned.

“Morning.” He said in surprise.

“Hi.”

This was strange. Like a warped sense of a morning after.

“Coffee?” He offered. “It’s still hot, I think.”

“Please.”

As he stood to pour from the French press, you took a look around you, eyes landing on the nightstand. A glass of water stood tall next to the silver chain he’d given you last night.

So innocent. If someone took a peek through a crack in the wall, they’d think you were a perfectly normal couple. Domestic bliss.

Not so much, you thought, as he walked over and handed you a cup.

He didn’t linger, but sat down at the foot of the bed, and that only made things stranger. He’d never been one to shy away from physical proximity, but here you both were, sipping just-hot coffee as he eyed you carefully. Like you were an animal in an enclosure, and he hadn’t quite figured out which approach to take with you yet.

“Are you working on something?” You nodded toward the cluttered desk.

“Just the usual. Work.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you worked in here.”

“I don’t, usually. Never have, in fact.” He sounded sheepish. This was entirely new. “But I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Oh.

You said just that.

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

“I can go if you’d like. Leave you to rest.”

“No, that’s okay. Stay.”

His eyes softened a little, shoulders sinking down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You considered. You hadn’t really thought much about it.

“Tired, I think. This is helping. Thank you.” You sipped at the cup of coffee, careful not to spill it on his sheets. An oddly comfortable silence hung in the air.

“I called Cordelia. She’s coming over this afternoon, we can figure it all out. Print a story you’re happy with.”

“Wait, what? We don’t have an appointment for three more weeks.”

He glanced awkwardly at the floor, and cleared his throat.

“I thought you’d want to make it as quick as possible. It will be, and it won’t shine badly on you. I’ll get Lucille to pack your things, and if you don’t want to go back to your parents, I’d be happy to put you up somewhere in the city for as long as you’d like. It’s the least I could do after everything that I-”

“Coriolanus, stop.” You shook your head, bewildered.

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

He paused.

“Of course.”

“How the hell are you meant to know what I want if you’ve never asked me?”

He frowned, eyes darting from the floor, to you, to the floor again.

“I… Well, I assumed that-”

“Don’t assume.” You interrupted. “God, when will you stop assuming you know what’s best for me? It’d be nice to feel like I have a say in this. Don’t you see that if we do this, we’ll just end up right back where we started? I don’t want that, do you?”

“Doll, I think this would be for the best.”

“Why, am I getting too difficult for you now? You got someone new lined up ready to take my place? Someone less complicated? More complacent?” You snapped.

“Of course not, it’s not that.”

“Then why? Why do you want me gone? Because it’s pretty damn clear that you do from where I’m sat.”

He sighed, turning to face you, but looking at your lap. You gripped the cup with a vice, like you were trying to snap off the handle. You placed it on the nightstand.

“I’ve just been wondering if this has become about something… else, to you. and I wanted to say that if that’s the case, this can’t continue. Because… well, I’ve grown fond of you, and it isn’t fair to keep you hoping.”

Your confusion softened your sharp edges.

“Hoping for what?”

For whatever reason, he didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Hoping that… I can give you something I don’t think I’m capable of. Or at least, not anymore. It’s not fair on you. I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly is it that I need?”

He shifted, looking awkwardly to the floor. At first, your frown only deepened, then it hit you. A knowing smile crept onto your face.

“Oh my god… you think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His frown only widened your grin. you were pretty sure you must’ve looked insane. Despite yourself, you let out a laugh, and his frown only deepened.

“When you… you’ve been upset lately. The other week at the luncheon, and then last night, I thought it was-”

“That I was, what, in love with you?”

A cocky, shit eating grin now took over your face.

He started a sentence, but stopped himself. You could see it on his face; he was completely thrown.

“So you’re not.” He checked.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, Snow. ‘Course not. That’s never what this was about, I mean, we have rules for a reason. Sure, we’ve been breaking them like it’s our day job, but not the golden one. Never the most important.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked a little sheepish.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” you repeated, “I’m not in love with you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His shoulders sank down, like he was relieved.

“I see. That’s good, that’s… for the best.”

“So will you cancel Cordelia?”

“Okay. If that’s what you want., it’s done.”

You nodded.

“See, this is better. It’s a lot easier when you ask me things. And I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t exactly been the most talkative either.”

“It’s not exactly our strong suit.” He agreed.

“Yeah. You know, while we’re on the topic, there’s something else you can do for me.”

“Anything.”

“You can run me a bath. A hot one. With bubbles.” You added.

It was slight, but you saw it. He perked up.

“Okay, doll.”

The bath was hot, and it smelt like the softer parts of him, like fresh linen and the spice of his cologne. Again, he didn’t linger, just ran the bath, saw you into the room and let you be. It was frustrating – while it was nice to soak in the hot water and feel your muscles relax, you wished he would just talk to you, instead of acting like you were something to avoid, something to walk on eggshells around. This change in his demeanour wasn’t a completely unwelcome one – you didn’t mind feeling as though you had the upper hand, and held all the cards for once – but you didn’t like being treated like you were broken, either.

You sank your head underneath the bubbles and stayed down there for a few seconds, the rush of water clouding your eardrums. It was a peaceful kind of noise, and when you came back up for air, you found yourself breathing a little easier.

You pondered. Processed, considering the steps to take next, rolling your neck out and stretching your feet to the edge of the tub. Anytime you thought you’d reached any sort of plateau with Coriolanus, something new would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t minded the danger at first, it drew you in and kept you hungry for more, but you’d grown tired, weary from the whiplash knotting your neck.

When the water cooled, you looked around, but couldn’t see a towel. You cleared your throat.

“Snow?” You called out.

Soft footsteps. Then, his voice from behind the door.

“Everything okay?”

“I just need a towel. I can’t see one near me.”

“They’re in the linen closet in the corner.”

You eyed the floor between the tub and the closet.

“I’d have to get out and drip bathwater all across the floor. Can you just come in here and hand me one?”

Silence.

“Please?” You added.

More silence. Then he quietly cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. I’m coming in, I won’t look.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

The door cracked open and he made a short beeline to the closet, unfolding a towel and holding it out. When he walked to the side of the tub, he looked off to the side like the colour of the walls was suddenly the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You pulled yourself out of the water, shivering as the cold air hit you. Then you backed into the towel and took it from him, wrapping it around yourself, sinking into the soft cotton. He stood behind you, paused, seemingly suspended in place and unable to move. You heard him draw in a breath, inches from the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. His breath caught on the droplets of water gathered on your skin, and it warmed you and gave you a chill at the same time.

“I know you are.”

Then in a flash, you spun around, lips on his, hungry. He kissed you back like he had something to prove, and hell, maybe he did. His hands tangled in your wet hair and yours made for his shirt. The towel slipped to the floor and fell in a pile at your feet. One button came open, you broke the second, which flew into the air and landed on the floor with a tap. He pulled you in closer, hands all over you, and you worked frantically at the third, not caring if it broke, not caring about anything.

“Doll.”

You looked up at him, at his blown-out eyes.

“Want you to fuck me.” You breathed.

“I can’t.”

You jolted to a stop, catching your breath. He took a step back.

“What?”

He pulled in slow breaths, like he was trying to cool himself off. His eyes pressed shut.

“Not like this. Not until I know you trust me again. I don’t… I can’t hurt you again. I won’t do that. I need you to forgive me first. Completely.”

You exhaled slowly, then cleared your throat, lowering to the ground to pick the damp towel off the tiles. When you came back up, half-covered, he was staring at a spot on the wall again, breath laboured.

You tied the towel around you, and looked right at him as he looked away, eyes averted.

“You sure about that, Snow?” you drawled. “You sure as hell don’t look it.”

He swallowed thickly.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll just be in the bedroom.”

You brought your hand to your lips, brushing over where he’d just kissed them once he’d turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. You eyed your pile of clothes with disdain.

He was back at his desk when you walked out, wrapped in a shirt he’d offered you, hair towel in hand. He didn’t look as focused on his work this time.

“I cancelled Cordelia. So don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you.” You made for the bed, and climbed back onto it. “Rather just talk to you anyway.”

His jaw tensed. It seemed he was still doing everything in his power not to look at you.

“You know, there’s this thing called eye contact. Remember that thing Cordelia waffles on about? It’s important when you’re having a conversation with somebody. I’m a big fan, myself.”

His eyes shot daggers at you. But at least he was looking.

“And what did you want to talk about, exactly?”

You shrugged, and he glanced back at the desk, and pretended to study one of the papers there.

“I don’t know. All of this, I guess.”

Much to your annoyance, he didn’t answer. Your eyes swept the room again, and you brought the towel to your hair. The sun was high enough now to light up the silver chain on the nightstand, and you took it in your palm, turning it over.

“Did you mean it when you said I could have this?” You wondered aloud.

He looked at you again.

“Wasn’t sure if you remembered that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Then I meant it.” His words shouldn’t have made you smile, but they did.

“Will you put this on me?” You asked.

“Uh. Sure.”

The chair creaked as he pushed it back from underneath him, and he walked over to you cautiously, perching on the bed, taking the dog tag, then ever so gently brushing your hair to one side.

“Can I just ask-”

“Anything.” He said quickly.

The cool metal slid onto your chest as he secured the chain, falling low.

“When you were out there, did you…” you swallowed.

Say it.

“…hurt people?” You praised your voice for not shaking. The silence in the room was deafening. But he finally answered.

“I did what was necessary.”

“It must’ve been awful.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was.”

“Do you think about it much?”

“More than I care to admit. But it was a long time ago.”

You turned to face him.

“Doesn’t make it less real. I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. What matters is that I’m here now.”

You smiled.

“You didn’t get too bad of a deal of it either, President Snow.”

He put your hair back into place, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“I certainly didn’t.”

You thumbed the cold steel, an odd feeling of satisfaction washing over you.

“Was it worth it?” Your voice sounded quiet, even to you. You were fully aware of the weight of the question, heavier still from the complete understanding that you barely knew what you were asking.

“Yes.”

It should’ve scared you, the surety in his voice. But it didn’t.

Warm breath caressed your shoulder blade, and it really shouldn’t comfort you, but it did. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you. For putting it on. I always get these things tangled.”

“My pleasure. I meant what I said though, sweetheart. No wearing it where anyone’ll see, okay? I need you to promise me.”

You turned your head, shifted so you faced him. You suddenly realised just how close your faces were, and your voice dropped low.

“I promise. It’s nothing new. We’re no strangers to secrets, you and I.”

Your noses were almost touching, and he was looking down at your lips. You drew in a breath, and inched in impossibly closer. You felt his breath on your lips, hot and shallow. Your nose bumped his.

And then his lips were on yours again. But just as quickly, he pulled away.

“Don’t.” You pleaded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t. Not until I’ve fixed this. Please, just… tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You sighed, pulling away.

“This is what I want, Snow. But…”

“Yeah?”

“I just… never knew it would get so complicated. I think for now, maybe I need a little time.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

“I might go home over this weekend. Spend some time with my parents. No tricks, okay? No messengers, no word from you, the entire time. I’ll come back here on Monday morning, and I’ll tell you what I’ve decided then.”

He nodded.

“That’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “So you’ll leave tomorrow morning?”

“If that’s okay.”

He seemed as satisfied as one would expect with that solution.

“Yes. Of course, anything you want.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked a little disappointed by the formality.

“And Snow?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Before I go, will you lie next to me for a little while?"

It was oddly intimate, the way the day stretched on. He lay next to you for a while, and you sank into the sheets and eventually dozed off. When you woke, he was still there, quietly tapping at the typewriter and poring over paperwork. You spent the rest of the day in his room, in bed mostly, with food being brought up to you which you shared in mutual silence or casual conversation. Lucille packed your bags, and you spent the night in his bed, a little distance between you. But when you woke up, you had to slowly pull away your woven limbs.

Leaving was a quiet affair. Snow gave you a chaste kiss goodbye, and Henry snuck you and your bags through the back exit and kept to backroads, so nobody would know who you were or where you were going. Your parents didn’t know why you were visiting either; they didn’t need to. As far as anyone was concerned, you were taking a short weekend trip to check in with your family.

The two days passed quickly. You spent the time reflecting, debating what your next move would be, and listening to your parents argue. You found yourself glancing at the clock by Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday night you were practically crawling out your skin ready to leave. You considered what he’d offered you; an apartment on your own, somewhere in the city. But the thing is, you’d grown used to his moods, to just having him around, if only to dig your fingers into and pry open, searching for secrets. Life would feel awfully dull without it. You’d never met someone who was a match for you, who challenged you. You wondered if he felt the same.

Monday morning rolled around and you let out a heavy sigh of relief as you climbed into the car. Henry glanced back at you, but didn’t comment.

The second the manor came into sight, your head clouded with doubt. Would he want you to stick around? You’d spent the last couple of days toying with all outcomes like some omniscient god, but until now you hadn’t considered the fact that Snow might’ve done some thinking through of his own.

But as you pulled up at the side door, there he was. Standing perfectly poised, waiting for you, and all your worries washed away as he looked at you. Henry opened the door, and Coriolanus offered his hand as you stepped out the car. He looked at you with the same intensity as he had that very first night in his room, when you’d finally dropped the charade, and you returned the stare. Even just feeling his hand on yours set your skin on fire.

When you finally got inside and it was just the two of you, he stopped you.

He looked regal before, proud and superior. Now, you could tell it was a façade, laced with a nervous discomfort.

“Well?” He prompted.

You looked at him. Took in the way his eyes couldn’t stay in one place for too long, the tightness in his jaw that only appeared when he was under pressure, and the slight urgency seeping through his otherwise controlled question, and realised then that you hadn’t been the only one going a little insane these past few days.

And now, you had the upper hand again.

“Upstairs,” you answered. “Your room.”

When the door closed behind you and he paced towards the desk, you almost smiled at the parallel. It felt like an age ago that you’d strutted in here, dressed in his suit jacket with something to prove. You knew the cards you were about to play now like you had then, but your thoughts still raced.

Snow cleared his throat.

“So? Have you made up your mind?”

You waited for him to turn and face you.

“I have.”

“And?” So quick to reply. You’d never heard him so on edge.

You wet your lips, taking a step towards him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying stretching this out a little, watching him squirm.

“I’ve decided that… I’m staying.” You said finally.

He let out an audible breath, almost like he didn’t care about you hearing his reaction anymore. Like he’d been strung out the entire weekend, just like you. Like he’d imagined this conversation in a million different ways. He stepped towards you. This was an old dance; one you knew well. You closed the gap between you, and his hand grazed your jaw.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He said. You held his gaze, he brushed your lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Can I…” His voice dropped.

“Not just yet.”

You relished the little frown that knitted his brows.

“I know you, Snow.” You continued. “You’re good at what you do. You’re better at this than anyone out there. You’re dedicated, and I think that… something tells me you’re going to be President for an awfully long time. I want to be by your side when that happens. I’m not going away when this arrangement suits me too. But I have terms.”

He watched you as if he was mesmerised, and you wondered if he even noticed the way you slowly walked him towards the bed. You hid your smile as the spell broke, and the back of his legs bumped the ottoman. He gazed down at your lips, just a little thrown off kilter.

“Tell me.”

You got closer, lifting your hands to the lapels of his shirt and giving them a tug, turning him so you were stood against the ottoman and he was facing you. He moved so easily, as if this was a dance, one you’d practiced a hundred times over.

“Let’s start with this. You said you’d do anything for my forgiveness, right?”

“I meant it.”

“Good.” You nodded, “Because there is something you can do for me.” Your hand traced his jaw, and he leaned into it.

“Name it.” He whispered, lips pressing against your palm. “It’s yours.”

You leaned towards him, faces close, noses touching, foreheads pressed together. You could feel the almost on your lips, could feel his breath. You relished in the feeling, that electric tension between the two of you. You held onto it, inhaled it like smoke, before cutting it loose.

“Kneel.” You breathed.

Feeling his brows twitch gave you a rush, and when you pulled back, he looked like art. You slowly moved down, sitting on the ottoman, holding his gaze. Then slowly, steadily, like he was walking a gossamer-thin tightrope, he shifted, nudging your legs open to stand between them, and lowered himself down to the floor, knees gently knocking against the hardwood one at a time. You give him a slow nod.

“Like that. Good. Stay there.”

Your legs parted a little further, and his eyes lined up with the way your dress lifted, bunching at your hips, exposing black lace with white trim, barely covering the space he seemed to lean towards.

He wet his lips, glancing up at you. Eyes bright but laden with want, so heavy he thought he might drown in it.

“Can I…” He whispered, and you felt it more than heard it, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

You smiled a little, and shook your head.

“Fuck. Please, doll.”

“Did I ask you to beg?”

“No. But… what can I do?”

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you considered.

“You can take these off. Slowly.”

You sighed when his palms brushed your hips, pushing your dress up then hooking soft fingers into the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them over your hips and down your thighs. He was gentle, pulling back but staying oh so close to you as he pulled the lace past your ankles, tossed it to the side, and moved in again expectantly.

“And now?”

You pushed your legs apart again, just enough. Drew in a breath.

“I want you to watch.”

A sound slipped from his mouth, and you weren’t sure if it was just a shaky breath or a quiet curse. His eyes darted between your face and the heat between your thighs. If you couldn’t already feel the mess you’d made, the way his lips parted and his eyes went heavy-lidded would give it away in an instant.

His gaze followed your hand, unwavering as you slowly brought it between your legs, and lazily trailed your fingers towards where you were aching to be touched. Then with a gasp, you brushed your finger against your clit and starting drawing slow circles, slipping further down to push against your opening, slipping through the mess you’d made just from seeing him knelt on the hardwood.

You kept your head tilted back and your eyes closed, touching yourself with Snow knelt between your legs incredibly brazen, even for you. He was mere inches away, laboured breath dusting the skin of your inner thighs.

But as you melted into the feeling, sinking deeper than you could imagine in just a few short seconds, you opened them again. And there he was, darkened eyes fixed on where your fingers ran messy circles on your cunt, and you let out a soft whine. It was enough to make him redirect his stare to your face, and you couldn’t help but stare back, pressing harder against your clit with a broken sigh. You planted your feet on the floor as you shifted your hips a little, getting slightly closer, making it easier for you to carefully swirl a finger around your entrance, then gently push inside.

“Fuck.” He breathed, rocking forward slightly, to which you shook your head, knee pressing against his shoulder, pushing him back. His pleading eyes drove you on, pushed you to fuck yourself faster, obscene wet noises filling the quiet space.

He looked wrecked; lips parted, eyes begging, glancing up at you. And it only made you all the more shameless, bucking your hips and crying out, gasps slipping from your mouth that you couldn’t deny were getting played up a little for effect. He stared on, looking so fucking small between your legs, so hard you could only imagine it hurt.

You weren’t sure if he noticed he was breathing in tandem with you, but as your breaths picked up, got a little strained, so did his. His eyes slitted, heavy with lust as he stared on.

You got a little cocky; let it go to your head. Nothing would ever beat the rush of adrenaline you felt from seeing the most powerful man you��d ever known giving into you, letting you set the rules. It was intoxicating.

“You okay down there, sweetheart?”

He sighed, slow and heavy.

“I…” He trailed off, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is there something you need?” Your voice was breathier than you would like, control slipping from your fingertips, but it was still there and the way he looked up at you. His mouth opened again, jaw agape, on his knees like it was a silent prayer. You fucked yourself faster, mean, dripping down your fingers. He finally spoke.

“Please.” He whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I said -” he swallowed “- I said please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me touch you. Put my mouth on you, I won’t even use my hands. Just let me… baby. Come on.” His voice was raspy and ruined.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet? I’m not so sure.”

His breath was shallow, eyes wide and blown out.

“I’ll prove it to you. Just let me touch you, and I’ll do anything you want. Please, doll.”

You hummed, pretending to weigh it up in your head.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely. Go ahead. But keep your hands to yourself.”

“Thank you. Fuck. Thank you, baby.”

He listened, inching in cautiously, like he was expecting you to change your mind, then he pressed his mouth to you and there it was.

Heaven.

“Oh fuck.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

You hummed as he dragged his tongue over your folds, setting your nerves alight, instinctively rocking into the pressure you’d been thinking about since you got him on the floor. His hands, you noted, sat dutifully on his thighs, gripping onto them like it took a physical reminder for him not to reach out and grab your hips, push his fingers into your soft skin and own you.

As welcome as that sounded to your foggy mind, this was about proving a point. You were the one calling the shots here. So you rocked gently against his face as he kissed your clit, lapping at the heat between your legs, only pulling away at intervals to catch his breath, the daylight making the mess on his chin glisten, only to dive back in again, movements slightly limited by the lack of his hands, which you could see was bothering him.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little between gasps.

“I have to say I missed this. Seeing you underneath me.”

He looked up at you. But there was little defiance in his eyes, just want. Want so depraved that it sent a flush through you, making you feel a little unmoored.

“If I didn’t know better, Coryo, I’d say you were enjoying this.”

Face buried between your thighs, a broken whine sent a little shock through your core. You moaned, getting a little strung-out, a little breathy.

“Is that a yes?”

You felt him nod.

“Good. Glad to see you’re putting up less of a fight this time. It wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Giving in?”

This time, his eyes contained a little more fire. He pushed his tongue firmer against your clit, cutting off your question with a gasp. A few moments passed, and you heard him hum.

“Is there something you want to say, baby? Go ahead.”

He pulled back, catching his breath again.

“Still don’t want me to use my hands?”

You shook your head.

“Then can you… if it’ll feel better.” He glanced at your hand, resting lazily on your thigh.

“What?” You knew what he was getting at, but he shot you back a look as if to say, don’t make me say it.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Then say it.”

“Put your hand in my hair. You can… be rough, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Your smile turned into a sly grin.

“You want me to pull your hair? You sure?”

“I’m sure. I don’t… I liked it, last time.” He confessed quietly.

“Liked what?” You pushed.

He took a steady breath, looking down at the velvet seat you were perched on. He gritted out the words steadily, pointedly.

“When you sat on my face. I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

“I know you did.”

He paused, looking down at the floor. Then he looked back up. You brought your hand to his hair, fingers running through the soft strands. He started peppering kisses along the insides of your thighs, something he’d been too desperate to consider when you’d first given him permission to taste you. Now, they sparked the fire even more, and as much as you liked the careful attention, you guided his head to where you needed it. Keeping his words in mind, you gave a slightly rough tug on his hair, and he responded with a pained hum that edged you closer.

At one point, you saw his hand shift to try towards his pants, but you yanked his hair in response.

“No touching yourself yet. Or I’ll only let you watch, okay?”

You built up a rhythm, growing careless with the tugs on his hair so that you felt pressure in all the right places. Your fingers pulled harder as you got close, and you could hear his shallow breath as you took what you wanted from him.

“Fuck. Coryo, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. You wanna make me cum?”

He nodded as best as he could with your hand gripping tight in his hair, and the motion only brought you closer, legs growing weak and tired, hooking over his shoulders now that you’d let him closer. You felt the ache build, almost painful with how long it had been, and you felt yourself snap, spinning out of control as your hand tensed, then fell from his hair. Then his hands were on you, gently this time, smoothing over your bucking hips with a level of control that you melted into as the feeling washed over you. He didn’t stop, pressing his tongue against you harder as you fell apart, shaking like a leaf as he worked your cunt until your cries bordered on screams.

“Fuck. Oh my god, that’s it, I’m…” You broke off into a shout, something so outlandish it sounded foreign to your own ringing ears, but you were too far gone to care. You could vaguely feel yourself grabbing at him as he pulled away, at his hair, his hands, anything, as you slumped back onto the bed. Slowly, he propped himself up, placing a knee between your legs and leaning over you. And his eyes, heavy and wanting, had you aching all over again.

He held back a little, clearly still in the space you’d pushed him into.

“Can I…” He whispered, those desperate eyes fixed on your parted lips as you caught your breath.

“Yeah.” You gasped, and he lowered his head towards you.

This time, he kissed you softer. Still hungry, still wanting, but slow, methodical, like he wanted to relish it. Almost like he wasn’t trying to own you, but in that moment, you could almost go so far as to believe the contrary. And your head swam with pride, feeling his lips on yours as he gently pressed you into the soft mattress.

But you didn’t sit in the feeling for too long.

“Was that okay?” He gasped.

“Yeah. More than okay. But you used your hands at the end there, baby. You know what that means?”

His eyes narrowed as his head cleared a little.

“Lie on your back for me.”

He obliged, dropping onto the mattress and shuffling up to lean against the pillows.

“I missed you, you know.” You murmured as you followed suit, hovering over him to get another kiss.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. Thought I was gonna go out of my fucking mind with how much.”

“Yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

“I hoped not. Glad I was right.”

You smiled again, and shifted closer towards him.

“I could always show you how much I missed you, if you wanted.” Your eyes darted down to the front of his pants, the outline of his hard cock pressing against the material. He went a little quiet again, nodding a little, and you grinned. Climbed onto your knees so you were just a little above him, then swung a leg over one of his to sit carefully on his thigh. You paused for a beat.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me to, baby.”

He sucked in a breath.

“You can touch me.”

You tutted.

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He added quickly.

Without a word, you leaned in, brushing a hand over his cock, starting gentle, but quickly adding pressure. You could tell he was holding back, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering as he tried to control his breath.

“Not getting shy on me again, are you?”

He didn’t answer, just met your eye and you took it as a challenge. Unbuttoned his slacks and with a glance and a nod, slid them down his legs. You licked your palm slow, making sure he was watching closely.

“Fuck.” He breathed.

“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me properly, I’m just gonna have to work harder then, aren’t I?” You drawled as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers. There was a soft thump as his head dropped back onto the headboard and he cursed as your fingers grabbed the base of his cock.

“Like that?” Your mouth pulled into a sly smile.

He hummed, breaking off into a sigh, lips parted and eyes towards the ceiling as you fisted his cock. I’ll take that as a yes.

You swirled your thumb around the head of his cock, gathering messy precum that had gathered at the tip from your teasing, and it hit you then that most of your interactions until now had been psychological, toying with words, with ideas and almosts. You knew by now what made him tick, which words you could use to push him to the edge, but you’d barely had the chance to touch each other. But you were a fast learner, and you knew what you wanted from this.

You wanted to make him fall apart.

So you picked up the pace, and it must’ve ached with how fast you were fucking his cock with your fist, but his determination not to lose his cool made it all the more exciting. It got wet, and that was one thing his composure couldn’t hide. It egged you on, shifting your own hips on his tensing thigh as your sore cunt pressed against the muscle.

“You can hold back all you like, but I can tell you’re fucking close.”

His eyes fell shut in a lust-clouded haze, breath picking up. His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned. You were tempted to take it down your throat, really see how he held up then, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction just yet, and you were on a high learning just how to make his body respond to your touch, how to make him weak. So you worked your wrist and felt his legs jolt a little, and you knew it was a matter of seconds.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to ask nicely. I don’t know how generous I’m feeling just yet. Convince me.”

“Jesus.” He gasped.

“No, just me. Go on, baby. Beg me. You wanted to earlier, right? Now’s your chance.”

An honest-to-god whine left his mouth, voice cracked and completely fucking ruined. You slowed your motions.

“No, baby, don’t stop. I’m so fucking close, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum. I fucking need it, I did everything you said, I got on my knees, I fucking… fuck, I did what you told me, didn’t I? Everything you asked? And I didn’t touch myself, I haven’t… fuck. All weekend, I haven’t-”

You pressed your lips together.

“Poor thing. You’ve gone this whole weekend without cumming?”

“I was a little fucking preoccupied.” He gritted out.

“Over little old me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he repeated, “I need to cum. I did what you wanted, doll, I- shit-”

Satisfied, you picked the pace up again, obscene wet sounds filling the room as his hips rocked a little into your hand as he got close again. Too far gone now to hold back, his face contorted in pleasure, eyes fixed on you. Then, in a seemingly small motion as you leaned into him a little, the dog tag that had been sitting tucked under your dress - and had stayed hidden against your skin all weekend - slipped out, the pendant swinging into the air beneath you, and as Coriolanus caught sight of it, you felt his hips tense, then his cock was twitching and spilling into your hand.

“Shit, that’s so… oh my fucking god, doll.”

You pulled your hand from his boxers and brought it to your mouth, cleaning it off a little.

“You really did need that, huh?” You smirked, and he sighed.

“Yeah. I really fucking did.”

You nodded at his boxers.

“Can I take these off now?”

He pressed his head into the headboard again and nodded, so you carefully pulled them down his legs. Panting and overheated, he unbuttoned his shirt as you threw the fabric to the floor. What he didn’t expect you to do, though, was put your hand back on his still-twitching cock that sat tired and used against his stomach. He flinched a little as you palmed it, and you looked at him mischievously. Started to move your hand again, slow and steady, but firm.

“That’s… baby. Stop, I already came, I… fuck.” He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled, voice turning a little dangerous.

“Oh, you thought we were done?”

“Doll, that’s not – shit – that’s not fucking funny. It’s sensitive, I…” It turned into an uncomfortable hum, but you felt him twitch under your palm, slowly getting hard again. His leg gave a little involuntary kick, much to your satisfaction.

“I… what the fuck.” His voice went quiet and strained, and yours got menacing.

“Oh, you can take it, can’t you? Thought you said you liked me taking the lead a little. You can handle it, can’t you, Snow? Or do you want me to stop?”

“Mm. That’s… was different. Please.” You kept going, a rush washing over you as you wondered if he even knew what he was begging for. You got more daring, rubbing your palm over the tip, and grinned when he cried out.

“You want me to stop? Just say the word. I will.”

He was half-hard again, more cum leaking from his tip as you sped up just a little.

Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head frantically as the rest of him trembled.

“Didn’t think so.”

His face was twisted like he was holding on desperately, trying to maintain control as you relished in his permission, and palmed him harder.

“Jesus fuck.” He said, voice getting louder now, legs twitching and hips bucking up in little jolts you were certain he couldn’t stop if he tried. You had him now, pliable like clay between your fingertips, shaking apart.

“Is that too much for you?” You taunted, getting cocky now.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snapped, but it fell flat when his voice broke halfway through the question. You laughed.

“I know exactly who I am, Snow. I’m the girl you’re gonna be stuck with for a long time, and I’ve got some demands to make. So listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You know what happened last week?” You were aware you were starting to sound almost as insane as him, but you didn’t care.

“You don’t ever,” you spat, “do that to me again. If you do, I swear on all of Panem, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

He whined, desperate, so far gone you weren’t sure he was fully listening.

“Say you fucking understand.”

“I… I understand. Fuck. Please. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance. From here on out, you only get to treat me like a whore when I tell you to. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, okay. I understand. I’m… shit.”

“This is a partnership, starting now. We help each other. We trust each other. We talk to each other. We don’t go behind each other’s backs, or fuck around with other people. Okay?”

“Okay. That’s… doll, can you slow down just a little? You’re… I’m…”

“You’re gonna cum again?”

He nodded, chasing his breath. You leaned towards him, lowering your head to his chest and dragging your tongue against his collarbone.

“Good. You can cum again, Coryo.”

“Thank you. Thank you - fuck. That feels… I’m-”

“You gonna cum all over my hand again, baby? Do it, I’ve got you. You can cum now.”

The second time he came was with a pained cry, painting your hand until it dripped down your wrist and onto his stomach. When you finally released your grip, he slumped down and sighed, aftershocks still jolting through him.

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I understand.”

“Good.” You murmured into his ear, and you felt goosebumps rise on his torso, “Then I think we can come to an agreement.”

The week went by in a blur of whispered words and tangled limbs. He rarely left you alone, and you barely felt the time pass, every waking moment spent together, flesh on flesh. When he worked, it was at the small desk in his room, and he took plenty of breaks to lounge in bed with you or run you baths.

You learned each other’s tells, growing comfortable touching each other, but Snow stuck to his word, much to your annoyance.

Not until you trust me again, he’d said. Wasn’t it clear enough by you staying?

You’d all but moved into his room, sending Lucille back and forth with hampers for your clothes, which now hang in one side of his closet, or sat folded in his previously empty drawers. You felt closer to him than you ever had before, and the two of you had skin littered with bruises which made you grateful you didn’t have any public functions to attend for quite a while. He’d stopped leaving you to go into the city and work, instead managing people from afar, and letting them get on with their jobs so he could weed out the weakest links.

For the first time, it felt a little like he was yours. Or as much yours as he possibly could be. And as you spent more time together, not just half-dressed and desperate, but talking, really talking, you slowly started to feel like you could be his, too.

“Tell me it feels better than he did. When you were together.” He whispered one morning, when you’d not long woken up and he’d immediately ducked under the covers to get between your thighs. He paused, fingers inside you, looking at you intently, and at first you were confused as to what he meant. You heard the tinge of vulnerability in his voice, and took the cue.

“You really think you deserve that? After everything?”

“No.” He whispered, eyes dropping down again.

“So what do we say?”

“Please.”

“One more time for me.”

He spoke up, voice gorgeously wrecked.

“Please. Tell me it’s better.”

“That’s good. And since you’re being good, I’ll tell you. He didn’t…” you swallowed, catching yourself, “He didn’t really like doing that. what you’re doing.” Your facade cracked a little and you glanced off to the side, not sure what reaction you were expecting.

“Really?” His voice was dumbfounded. It made you laugh.

“You know, Snow, a lot of guys don’t. They’re lazy about it. Want to get it over with, get to the real thing.”

A wide smile pulled at his lips, wolfish.

“Who wouldn’t want to do this?”

“Easy for you to say, handsome.”

He grinned wider.

“Can I try something?”

“I don’t know. will I like it?”

“I think we both will.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay, Coryo.”

His smile only deepened, pulling into an excited smirk as he gripped your hips once more, lightly kissing your thighs as he got closer to where you wanted him.

You gasped as his tongue worked you, and when you came, he kept going, easing up only after you’d fallen apart more times than you could keep count.

“Can’t believe you still won’t fuck me.” You pouted one day, as he sat at the desk with a pen in hand, scratching against paper.

He turned around to face you.

“I told you why. Not until-”

“I trust you again, I know. But how do you know that? I could trust you just fine and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“I’ll know.”

You hummed.

“Or,” you started, slipping off the bed and pacing towards him, “you could just fuck me now and call it square.”

He chuckled.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

You pulled a lip between your teeth as you stood next to him, and he moved his chair out towards you. You smoothed a hand over his dress shirt, and grabbed a hold of his tie. Then you hooked a leg over both of his and lowered yourself onto his lap, face right next to his. You’d grown comfortable with being close to him, and while it still felt electric, you could handle it better. You rocked your hips on his as you got comfortable.

“Feel familiar?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m getting flashbacks.”

You smirked.

“Can I take this off?” You tugged at his shirt.

“Only if you play nice. No acting up, okay?”

“If you say so.” You shrugged, making quick work of the tie and buttons. Once the shirt was off, your lips were all over him, trailing over his chest and neck, tongue tracing lines across his collarbones.

“You don’t have to be anywhere for the next week, do you?” You murmured into his ear.

“No.” His breath hitched a little.

“Good.”

With that, you closed your lips around his pulse, and sucked.

While you littered his whole torso with bruises, and your neck was given a few of its own, you started rocking your hips lazily against him, playing coy like you didn’t know what you were doing, like you couldn’t feel him rock hard between your legs.

“Now this really is taking me back.” His voice strained when he spoke.

You only hummed in response, lace panties bunching in an all-too-familiar way. But you didn’t work your hips like you had something to prove this time, you went slower, taking your time, but staying deliberate in your movements. Your lips met his, breaking away only to breathe, then again when you felt his hips roll a little and his breath get laboured.

You rocked your hips harder, nice and firm. You could feel his cock twitch through his pants, right up against the wet spot forming on your panties. The friction had you shaking.

“Feel good?” You breathed.

“Yeah. Feels real fucking good, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your head lolled back, gasping loud to make sure he really heard it.

“You know what would feel even better, though?”

He mumbled something back but you didn’t catch it, lost in the haze.

“Think it’d feel better if you were fucking me for real right now.”

You didn’t expect the broken moan that escaped him, hands gripping your hips hard. Like the thought of it was enough to make him shatter.

“Baby,” he warned, “don’t.”

“But it would be so easy.” You pressed, “pushing my panties to the side and fucking into me right now.”

“Doll-”

“I know you want to.” you whispered against his ear.

“Do you now?” His strained voice told you everything you needed to know.

You nodded. “Mhm. I know you do. I also know that it’s driving you crazy, having me this close, but not able to take what you want. You must be going out of your mind, you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am too. I’m tired of this rule, Snow. Let’s just forget about it, and fuck me already.”

“Get up.” He said firmly. You started.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said get up, sweetheart.”

You climbed off his lap and stood, cautiously, legs shaking from how close you’d gotten. He did the same, towering over you a little as you failed to hide the smile on your face.

“Get on the bed.”

You took in a breath, shaky with nerves.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat back on the bed, peering over the mattress as he ducked down to pick up something from the floor.

“What are you-”

“Eyes closed.”

“Okay.” You shut your eyes, then felt him get close to you, his lips meeting yours as he knelt in front you, mattress dipping as he shifted. His hands brushed your arms, slowly pushing them behind your back as you melted into him, and before you could open your eyes, you felt the smooth silk of his tie wrap around your wrists and pull.

“What-”

“You want to act up, doll? Fine. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum all over my fingers before you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing your lace panties to the side and pressing a finger into your wet cunt as you cried out. Your eyes pleaded at him, desperate.

“But why can’t you-”

“I said,” he repeated, pressing his finger into the spot that make you see stars, “not. Fucking. Yet.”

He spent hours fingering you open, making you cum until you cried. Then he cleaned up your tears and kissed like you were his whole world as you fell into an exhausted sleep, his words floating around in your head.

The black box was tied with a crisp white ribbon, and sat waiting for you on your bed. You approached it with caution, thumbing the piece of card on top of it. It was a note written in ink.

Wear this tonight. Think you’ll suit it well.

- C.S

You’d gone into your room to collect something of yours to take to Snow’s room. You rarely went into your room anymore, most of your things had found their place in his, much to your satisfaction.

It was the first day in about two weeks that Coriolanus had finally had to leave the house to go into the city, but he’d promised it would just be for the day. It was also the first gala you had to attend since you’d made your decision, which you were slightly nervous for, but mostly excited to get out of the house, because although the sacred oasis that his room had become, it would be nice to have a change of scenery.

And that brought you back to the beautifully wrapped box lay in front of you. You were buzzing. You turned the note over in your hands, pulling it to your face to breathe it in. It smelt like newly printed books, and something distinctly him.

You recognised the label on the box, it was one of your favorite designers. You pushed the lid away to reveal the most beautiful dress you’d ever laid your eyes on – and you’d seen some impressive pieces.

It was a dark crimson red with gold embroidery, soft as silk. You unfolded it gently, letting the fabric spill out towards the floor. It was a little more revealing than anything you currently owned, with a deep slit up the leg and a plunging neckline, waist cinched, but the rest of the dress was floor length. A smile crept onto your face.

After counting down the hours, it was finally time to make your way downstairs. Snow stood in a full suit, waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

“You look beautiful.” He remarked.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You smiled in response.

You met at the foot of the stairs, and he took your hand in his.

“Thank you for the dress. It’s gorgeous.” You added, not sure why you were lowering your voice in your own lobby.

“I knew it would suit you. Now you’re almost ready to go.”

“Almost?” You frowned, not sure what you could possibly be missing.

Coriolanus lifted his hand to pull the white rose from his breast pocket. He examined it, then lifted it to your hair and tucked it gently behind your ear. Your lips parted in surprise, and your hand reached up to meet his.

“But it’s your signature. I couldn’t-”

“I know. But people won’t be looking at me tonight. They’ll be looking at you. And this way, when they do, each and every one of them will know that you’re mine.”

That knowing smile crept back onto your face, and you leaned in to press your lips to his.

When you pulled away, you thumbed his tie, realising the color matched your dress exactly.

“I’m sensing a similar theme here.”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve been seen out in public. It’ll be good to show up like this, show a strong front, not leave any doubters.”

You hummed.

“And when we get home?”

His stare drew you in; you could get lost in it and never find your way out.

“That depends.”

Your gaze lowered to his lips, then back up again.

“Missed you today.” You said.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You promise?”

He smiled.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Snow?”

He hummed in response. Your hand felt like it could melt into his, thumb brushing your palm.

“What would you say if I told you that I trust you now?”

His hand stilled. His eyes bored into yours.

“I’d say… that I believe you.”

You held your breath in, letting the anticipation wash over you.

“Later?” You whispered, and he nodded.

“Later.”

The ball was one of the most extravagant you’d seen, large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and fountains of champagne dotted around. The health minister had outdone himself, and when you said so to Snow, he muttered a comment about him spending more time planning parties than doing his real job. But he smiled to all the right people, and his hand in yours calmed your nerves as a large procession saw you into the ballroom.

You danced until your feet turned numb, spinning on the ballroom floor, every time Coriolanus put his hands on your waist or wrapped his hand around yours drawing you in further, bringing you closer to forgetting everyone was watching you when his eyes were on yours, each stare becoming some secret language you were now terribly well-versed in. He didn’t let himself get distracted this time, quickly gravitating back to you any time he got pulled away into a conversation, and you basked in the attention, the two of you flirting to high heaven. When you’d spun until you were dizzy, he went to get you a drink, and you stepped off the floor of twirling couples.

It was then that you saw your mother, standing anxiously to one side, the stem of a champagne glass pressed between her fingers. Your parents rarely made it to these functions, but apparently, they had made time for this one. Suddenly aware of your frown and not wanting to arise suspicion, you plastered on a false smile and swanned through the crowd in her direction.

“Oh, darling. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I am, mother, I wouldn’t miss it. Is everything alright?”

She glanced around the two of you nervously, fiddling with her glass. You touched her shoulder and gently guided her further into the corner of the room. You rarely saw her this distressed, usually the picture of grace and poise.

“What’s wrong?” You pressed.

“Have you heard from Nathaniel?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Nathaniel Greene? Not in a long time.” You figured the little stunt of yours from the month before should go unmentioned.

“I heard from his parents the other day. They’re completely distraught.”

“Why? What on earth happened?”

For a second, echoes of threats that had long settled to the ground popped back into the forefront of your mind, and you swallowed thickly. You sat down in two small chairs at the side of the room.

“They can’t begin to understand why. Perhaps it was work, perhaps he was gambling, or in debt, but nothing could possibly explain such a cruel fate.”

“Mother, tell me what happened. Is he…”

Her hands shook, and you took the glass of champagne from her and placed it on a nearby tray.

“He’s not dead, my darling. It’s worse. A messenger came to his house late the other night. They asked him to pack a bag, and they took him away. To… I can barely say it.”

“Mother,” you gritted, “tell me.”

“A peacekeeper, of all things.” Horror filled her voice. “They sent him away to the districts, for the next twenty years. But what could he have done? I can barely understand it. Can you imagine? A young man of his standing, wasting away in that place? His family is ruined.”

Right then, the crowd around you parted in a way that could only announce the presence of one person.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

You lifted your head to meet cool blue eyes and a slightly suspicious stare. From where you sat, Snow towered over you both, drink in hand.

“Everything’s fine.” You replied, “my mother isn’t feeling too well. Do you think we could find my father and have him take her home?”

He nodded at an Avox nearby who stepped dutifully away without missing a beat, and a server offered your mother a tray with a glass of water on it. You stood and faced Coriolanus, conscious of the now very interested crowd, and nodded to the large double doors that stood to your right.

“A word?”

He followed you in cautiously.

“I just heard something interesting.” You started.

He stood up straight, setting his jaw when you finally turned to face him. Even though you were barely alone, just a closed door between you and hundreds of people, it felt electric to be standing so close to him again with nobody watching you.

“What’s that?”

Playing it safe. An interesting move.

“Oh, just some rumor about an old friend of ours.”

“Who would that be?”

You smiled.

“I thought it was funny you asked about him the other day. Were you worried if I left you I’d go back to him?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Coriolanus.” You drawled. “You sent Nathaniel off to be a peacekeeper so I couldn’t go back to him.”

His stony façade fell through a little.

“And if I did?”

The deep frown you’d plastered onto your face for your mother’s benefit fell away, and your lips curved into a smirk.

“I’d say... well played.”

He blinked.

“You’re not upset?”

“Over him? Barely.”

“You’re - ” Snow paused, “so you’re not angry that I sent him away? The districts are hell, you know.”

“I’m sure. I don’t care, Snow. If anything, I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“He had it coming. He slept with my closest friend a week after we ended things. He never knew I found out. I’ve just been waiting, really, for him to get what he deserves. I doubted you’d let him off without a warning. There I was thinking you’d lost your touch for a while.”

You wanted to bottle the feeling you got from his eyes burning into you, with something that tasted like admiration.

“I nearly did let him off, for your sake.” He confessed. “But... if that's the case, I'm glad I changed my mind."

“So am I. It was that weekend I left, wasn’t it?”

“Damage control." He said tightly, "You can’t blame me.”

“Thought so. Good work, Snow.” You stepped towards him and revelled in the apprehension on his face with a smirk. “It’s a shame for his family, but they were never particularly nice. Collateral, I suppose.”

“You really don’t care at all?”

“Does it look like I care?”

“No.”

“I think you can read me as well as the next person. So I don’t care. Is that so tragic?”

He shook his head, bewildered. A strange smile appeared on his face.

“No, that’s… that’s good.”

You smirked as a thought popped into your head.

“How long do you think he’ll last out there?”

“Who knows? I hope you’re not banking on him ever coming back.”

You fiddled with his tie, smoothing it down.

“Never. We can’t all be Coriolanus Snow, can we?”

“Certainly not.”

You stepped even closer, and his back bumped softly against the wall. His gaze fell to your lips. You'd painted them a red so deep it was almost black, matching the dress.

"You like the color?" You asked.

"Yeah. Reminds me of when you kissed me in front of everyone and I couldn't get it off."

You laughed.

"Well, it was one way of getting your attention."

"It drove me fucking crazy, you know. It's all I thought about when I jerked off for weeks."

Fuck. Your eyes went a little heavy, laden with want.

“I hope this hasn’t changed our plans tonight.” You murmured.

“Has it changed them for you?”

You shook your head quickly.

“No. You?”

“Of course not.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“Good. Because now he’s out of our way, I’m tired of this party. I want to go home."

His eyes darkened a little and he drew in a breath.

“I’ll go say my goodbyes.”

With one of his hands on the doorknob, you stopped him.

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“I don't want you to be nice. Later, I mean.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was just a few squeezes shy of breaking off the doorknob.

Your body slammed against his bedroom door with a force. His hands travelled under your clothes; wanting, needing to touch. You sighed and gasped at the feeling, his cold hands on your skin shooting chills through you, tugging off your clothes, kissing your neck, taking all that he wanted but still desperate for more. The rose had long fallen from your hair and lay, forgotten, on the hardwood. He kissed you with purpose, like he was once again trying to prove that he owned you, all the while understanding that he couldn’t. Maybe that’s what pushed him to touch you, to kiss you like it was the last time, like he was scared you’d float away somehow, even though you both know that wouldn’t really happen.

You understood it, because you felt the same way about him.

You revelled in it, in the way his hands wrapped around your back, lowered to your legs, and lifted you up to push you harder against the door. His lips travelled across every square inch of bare skin he could find, your dress pushed down to your waist, lace bra exposed.

“Take it off.” He whispered, and you arched your back, reaching for the clasp and unhooking it with lightning speed. The lights were dim in his room, casting shadows that danced as the two of you moved together. Your head fell back against the solid wood as Coriolanus licked a trail up your neck. It was depraved, more passionate than anything you’d felt before. You could hardly think, blood pumping through your veins faster than you could stand. The only thing louder than the rush of blood in your ears was the sound of your breath mixing, hot and heavy as you took, impatient and without apology.

You cried out as his hips pressed harder into yours, and you could feel his length pressing up against you for the hundredth time. Except this time, you could finally let yourself imagine him inside you and trust that he wouldn’t turn this into another round of the game you’d thought endless. You squeezed your legs around his hips.

“Bed.” You gasped, and he grinned, wolfish and thrilled. You were the luckiest girl in Panem, to get to see him look at you that way.

“Been waiting to get this dress off you since I had it made.”

“Don’t tear it. Be gentle.”

“With you, or the dress?”

You narrowed your eyes as he carried you to the bed and placed you down on the mattress.

“Thought I told you that already.”

He was careful with the dress, slipping it over your hips and draping it over the back of the desk chair. When he came back, you were propped up on your elbows, legs bent at the knee, stare unwavering, panties the only thing left to take off. He was still wearing too much, shirt messily undone, pants still fastened but barely concealing the tent beneath them.

“You sure about this?” He checked.

“That a trick question?”

“Doll.”

You laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt, handsome.”

He pulled off the white shirt methodically, and you shifted onto your knees to pull off his belt and toss it to the floor, eager to speed things along. You took in his toned chest and let your gaze sink down to his boxers, where his cock stood painfully hard beneath the material.

“Can I…” You prompted.

“Fuck. Yes. Please.” He sighed as your nails trailed up the bare skin of his thigh and brushed softly over his cock.

You smiled at the addition and took one last glance at his face, anticipation clear on his features that morphed a little in the near-darkness. Then, you pulled the material down his legs and his cock sprung free, and you forgot that you’d done this before, that you were used to this, to him, to being with him in almost every sense. It all slipped away, and as your hand reached to touch him with nothing between the two of you, it felt like the first time you’d ever done it. The breath he sucked in as you started to push the precum around his tip urged you on, making you brazen, and you readjusted your knees on the bed and got closer, then licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Oh my – fuck.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grateful for the darkness.

“That okay?”

He laughed, something dark and untethered.

“You fucking know it is. Such a fucking tease.”

“Wouldn’t be such a tease if we’d done this sooner.”

“Somehow I doubt that, sweetheart – ah.”

He was cut off by you taking the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucking hard as you gripped the base. You pumped your hand a few times and revelled in the sounds he made, choked out grunts and broken sighs, mixed with the occasional curse or a cry of your name.

You felt his hand gently brush against your hair, ever so cautious.

“Can I…”

“Mhm.” You hummed in the affirmative, and he sighed, all low and shaky as he pushed his fingers through your locks, not guiding, just careful pressure on your scalp as he let you take the lead.

“Baby,” he gritted out, “I don’t know how much longer I can… fuck, that’s-”

He sucked in a sharp breath as you stopped, pulling off, lips swollen. You looked up at him, stunned as he caught his breath.

“Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we turn a light on? I can’t… I want to see you.”

In the shadows, you could just make out the glint of his eyes and a dumbfounded smile.

“Of course.”

He stepped away, kicking off his boxers, and you watched him reach over the desk to switch on a small lamp. It lit up his face and you took him in, a thin cast of sweat shimmering across his face and chest. When he turned, you glanced away like you hadn’t been staring. He caught on with a grin.

“Like what you see?”

Such a dick.

“I’d like it better if you were over here.” You mumbled as he paced back towards you.

“You’re the one who wanted the light on, sweetheart. Now I know why.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Snow.”

“Coryo.” His breath danced against your lips as he closed in, lips sealing against yours as he pushed you back on the bed.

“Coryo.” You repeated with a smile when he pulled away kissing down your neck and chest, feeling the shape of the name in your mouth.

Then his hands were on you again as if they’d never left. More heat pooled between your legs as he trailed his hands down your thighs, and you let your head fall back as his fingers pressed through the seam of your panties.

His breath got shaky again as his fingers pushed the scrap of wet fabric to the side. You gasped as his thumb went straight to your clit, determined, rubbing tight circles against the hard nub.

“Oh my god, Coryo, I-”

“So fucking wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?”

It was too much all at once. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded. Beside yourself, your left hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans.

Then he fucking stopped. Your hand fell from your mouth, and you felt the lace get pulled down your legs.

“What are you…” You trailed off. The dim light let you make out his face and you could see his expression now, wanting, but careful, methodical.

“Open your mouth.”

When your lips parted, a little in response, but moreso in surprise, the two fingers he’d been using on your clit slipped into your mouth, pulling your jaw open as his other hand propped him up. You could taste yourself, hot and heavy, spilling onto your tongue.

“I want to hear you, baby. You can’t cover your mouth like that if I’m gonna hear you.”

You nodded, brain a little dead.

“Good girl. Now I don’t have a free hand, know what that means?”

You cried out a little, tongue trapped beneath his fingers.

“Touch yourself, doll. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you nice and fucking close, okay?”

A little self-aware with him hovering right above you, you snaked a hand between your legs, but when you saw the look on his face you stopped wasting time, pushing two fingers inside yourself, heel of your hand bumping your clit as a whine slipped past your lips.

He kept talking, whispering hot and heavy into your ear, dragging his lips over your neck, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, every touch burning your skin like it was molten. When you’d lost yourself enough, mouth still parted; his fingers gentler now he’d made his point, he ducked his head lower, trailing his lips over your tits, placed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. Your moans got louder, feeling like every inch of skin he covered was hardwired to your cunt, your fingers getting tired and sloppy as you got yourself closer, dripping down your thighs.

You made a sound and he glanced up at you, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“Just fuck me. Please, I can’t wait anymore, Coryo.” You whined, trying desperately to slow down your breathing.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t make yourself cum first?”

You shook your head, any more and you were sure your eyes would start to water.

“That’s okay, doll. I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.”

He lowered himself down towards you, arms either side of yours, crowding you in. Then his hands travelled down, lower, and your eyes rolled back, mouth agape as you felt his cock press against your entrance.

“Fuck.” You whispered, and he was strangely quiet. You blinked, and looked down at him, and you’d never seen such a pained look on his face. His lips parted, eyes heavy and slitted as he looked down at where his cock rubbed up and down like he was in a trance, slowly nudging your clit and getting himself wetter, tip glistening in the dim light.

Desperate for friction, you started rocking your hips, aching for him to push inside of you.

“Not just yet.” He breathed, voice strung-out and insane. “I won’t make you wait much longer, baby.”

“Please. I need you to fuck me. Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Usually, you’d see a sly smile appear on his face, but he just pressed his eyes closed as if the thought was going to send him over the edge. It was the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. Then, finally, you felt his cock catch at your entrance, and slowly press inside. You gasped at the pressure, at the size of him, and he was barely even moving.

“That’s it, baby.” He breathed. “I’m right here.”

He shifted his hips a little, and you clawed at his back, nails digging in until he hissed, rocking your hips to beg for more. You didn't want him holding back, not when you'd waited months for this. You strained your neck lifting it from the bed to whisper in his ear.

“I meant what I said, Coryo. Don’t be fucking nice.”

It was as if something in him snapped. Like he was holding on by a single thread, and you’d send him spiralling out of control. His hips jerked forward and you cried out as he filled you to the hilt, then rocked into you again, picking up a pace that was almost punishing. You tasted it, still wet on your lips, clung to your skin, and now, deep inside you.

Danger.

“So fucking pretty. Does my pretty girl need to get fucked, huh? Just like that?”

You could barely form words, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in further, feeling pinned open and beautifully used. Your cries melted together in your head until you could only understand bits and pieces, and as he fucked you, unrelenting, you felt your back slide up the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, and you were sure they must’ve drawn blood. His forehead pressed against yours,

For a second, he slowed, looking down at you.

“That okay?” He muttered.

You nodded, frantic, barely there.

“Yeah.”

He sped up again and your legs grew weak. He reached his free hand down to grab hold of your thigh and push it higher, the new angle making you see stars, clenching around him impossibly tight.

“Good fucking girl.”

At some point, as you exchanged fewer words and more heated glances, you felt your hand slip from his back and come to rest against over his on your thigh, to hold it in place. He took it in stride, taking it in his, fingers interlacing as his thumb brushed yours.

You didn’t think much of it. How could you? Not when he was stretching the walls of your cunt as you gripped him like a vice. Not when you could barely hear the words coming from either of your mouths. But oddly, it was the gentle contrast that pushed you to the edge as he fucked into you just like you’d asked, hard and unrelenting, mean.

Despite it all, it was the thumb that brushed yours that had moans spilling from your mouth as you both took exactly what you wanted from each other. It sparked something in you, something that let you know you were safe here, that there weren’t any walls between you anymore, no twisted games that wouldn’t benefit you both equally.

“I’m close.” You gasped as his cool blue eyes spilled into yours, and you knew he was all yours.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? I can feel it.”

You nodded silently, muscles in our thighs tensing around his back, the hand that was twisted into yours now falling onto the bed beside you. He gripped it tighter, and fucked you harder, with a point to prove. When your eyes slid shut in ecstasy, right on the edge of falling apart, he squeezed your hand, palms hot and clammy against each other just like the rest of you.

“Look at me, baby.” He urged, fighting for breath. “You’re so fucking close, I need – shit – need to see you when you cum for me.”

It wasn’t hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them on him when he looked like that, like he was carved by the fucking gods, brow scrunched and shining with sweat, eyes bluer than ever, lips parted in an o shape. It was the prettiest sight you’d seen, and your hand tensed around his when you came, trembling like a leaf, mouth parting in a shout you barely heard, eyes focused on him, only him as he fucked you through it.

"Fuck, that's it, doll. Like that? Right fucking there?"

You cried out in response, and as you spilled apart, you heard your name slip past his lips through your ringing ears , followed by a string of curses, each one filthier than the next, not letting up once as he followed you over the edge, hips stuttering as you felt warmth fill your walls and his head fall down onto the pillow beside yours.

A few moments passed as you let the feeling wash over you, feeling the wonderfully sore, sticky mess between your thighs after he pulled out. You heard him catch his breath, then tumble onto his back by your side. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, then at him, and with a smile realised he’d been looking at you.

“Like what you see?” You echoed. He smiled, coy.

“You know I do, beautiful.”

You sighed, satisifed.

“Keep calling me beautiful, Snow, and I might start thinking you want to fuck me.” You teased. “Wouldn’t want to give a girl the wrong idea.”

He laughed, bright and loud. A few more seconds passed, and you hummed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I’m just a little annoyed I didn’t get to ride you.”

He swallowed then smiled, almost awe-like, transfixed. It was a feeling that you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks, but it felt new this time. Different.

“You’re not done?”

“Are you?”

He glanced at your lips, then back up again, voice earnest.

“Not with you, sweetheart.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Good. Then lay back. Head on the pillow for me.”

He obliged, blonde curls spilling over the fabric. You liked it when he grew his hair out a little, you thought as you hooked a leg over his waist. His hands came up to touch you, but you pressed his wrists back into the mattress.

“No touching, Coryo. You hear me?”

He nodded, eyes darkening again, and you lowered your head to kiss him, deep and slow. Felt yourself meld into him with a smile as his cock hardened against your thigh.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the white rose he'd given you, discarded haphazardly on the wooden floor.

And something inside you just knew, you’d never get bored of this.

a/n: hope you liked it. thank you again for the love and for screaming along with me this whole time <33

taglist: (more in the comments) : @superchatnoir07 @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904@pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @ohstardew @ohmeadows

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sierrale8ne · 3 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOUR

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @patscorner @makethemhoesmad @wbbgetsmewetter @authentic-girl03 @ohbueckers

kalena speakss 🪽! i had no clue what to write for this chapter but i scrapped something together and here it is! pls know this was supposed to be out like two hours ago but most of it got deleted and i had to rewrite it, so ignore any typos for the moment, ill fix em eventually 😭

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

My leg bounces anxiously in the passenger seat of Julian’s car. The vehicle is silent, oddly enough, a complete 180 turn from the atmosphere of the last few days.

Things were really good. Julian and I were getting along better than ever, date nights and sleepovers. Up until we were arguing again. About schedules, staying out late, and of course the biggest disagreement in our relationship; the public.

We stayed up through all the hours of the night last night yelling at each other because I didn’t post about our date on my story; which I thought was childish but Julian evidently thought it was very serious.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was a big deal. Even when I thought about it from his perspective, I would probably be upset too. But the issue was we’ve talked about this before, countless times.

I sat looking out the window, an air-pod in my right ear that softly played music to keep my head clear. Briefly interrupted by my text tone going off.

Marayeeeee

Paige. Obviously. She’s been the most consistent number in my phone since the dinner party a while back.

don’t ask me for more banana pudding please

You trippin 😭😭

Wanted to see if you were busy, I miss you

“Who’s that?” Julian asks me.

“Just Paige.” I responded, my eyes only briefly looking up from my phone to look at him. It didn’t take a genius to notice how his demeanor changed. The slight roll of his eyes, and the shift in his seat.

“You guys have been talking a lot lately, no?”

He would be right. Aside from the texting throughout all hours of the day, we’ve gone out for lunch a few times over the last couple weeks. She was good company, and very easy to get comfortable around.

“Yeah, something like that.”

i’m actually heading to the airport rn…

Where to?

dallas! i have a few shows in texas and atl

but i’ll be back next weekend since you miss me so bad ;)

She doesn’t respond right away and I take that as the opportunity to shut my phone off and stick it into my pocket.

Julian lets out a long sigh as his hand runs over his face. “You know we still have to talk about last night, right?”

“What is there to talk about if we’re just gonna keep disagreeing?” I ask softly, trying to avoid raising my voice and starting yet another argument.

“You want me to stop bringing it up? Fine. But don’t get mad when I don’t put up with it anymore.”

The LAX drop off comes into my view and I turn my head to avoid looking at him once more. I don’t miss the lump that sits in my throat, or the tears that sting my eyes. I’ve never considered myself emotional, normally just keeping how I felt to myself or writing it in music, but that one stung.

“Okay Ju.” I shake my head, unbuckling my seatbelt when the car comes to a stop. “That’s fine.” I comment before stepping out of the car. Even after all that, he still hops out to help me get my bags, and I know he’s upset with me and I’m just as upset with him but the way he hugs me and kisses my forehead nearly makes me forget about it.

Nearly.

Because even then, I’m thinking about how his arms don’t feel like they used to. And after a few seconds the kiss that is lingering on my forehead just feels like slobber that I can’t wait to wipe off.

—

May 2025 — Las Vegas, Nevada

I sit comfortably on my hotel bed, a game playing as background noise in front of me and film on my iPad. We play the Aces tomorrow on prime time television and though I should probably be getting some rest, there’s only one person that could possibly be keeping me up at midnight before game day.

Maraye. Obviously.

I can see every bit of her from the phone screen. She’s laying on her bed quite literally giving me a show of her entire upper body. She has on a gray tank top, and I have to remind myself to look up at her face rather than the way her tits sit in that top.

“Paige?”

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I said shouldn’t you be watching film instead of me?” She joked. I turned my head before she could get a look of the flush of my face.

“Yes, actually, but you wanted to talk about um, what’s his name again?”

“Julian?”

“Yeah him, and I’m trying to be a good friend.” I shrugged. “What was the issue again?”

Maraye sulks on the other line, shaking her head before speaking. “It’s like we always argue about the same shit. I don’t have the energy to put up with it anymore.”

I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole for giving her relationship advice while wanting her in my bed right now, but oddly enough there isn’t a bone in my body that cares.

“Don’t y’think you should tell him that? That it’s tiring or something?” I suggest. My head leans to the side to get a better look at her and it’s so hard to stay focused on the topic at hand when she’s looking the way she does right now.

Maraye’s skin is glass. I swear if I were to look hard enough I would see my reflection in it. There’s a few freckles that sit on her skin that I can’t just barely see in the light. She has on her reading glasses, wide round frames that complement her brown skin and brown eyes beautifully.

“I tried! But then it makes me look like the bad guy, and I don’t wanna seem like an asshole.”

“How would you be the bad guy for saying how you feel? It’s not that hard, I mean you’re doing it with me right now.”

She laughs at this. “That’s not the same.”

“Yeah? How?”

There’s a silence on the other end, and I notice the way she breaks eye contact with me. Her head turning away from the phone screen and instead looking up somewhere else in the room.

She’s right, it’s not the same. I’m not the one she goes home too, or will introduce to her family, no matter how often I daydream that I am. Nevertheless, still I convince myself that it is.

“We’ve been friends as long as you guys been together, and you can tell me everything, right? Why not him?” I ask. My eyes trail away from the phone screen and over to my iPad to make the silence a bit more comfortable.

“You’re just easier to talk to, Paige. I don’t know.” Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence. “I’m just being dramatic, it’s fine.”

Now in the last two-ish weeks that I’ve been blessed with the pleasure to call Maraye my friend, I’ve picked up on quite a few habits of hers. One of which, being her ability to toss her feelings to the side as if they don’t matter. There’s probably nothing I hate more than that.

“No you’re not.” I sigh, looking back at her. “I’m sorry, but if he’s gonna be mad about how you react to how he’s made you feel instead of fixing it, then he ain’t the one for you, angel. You should find someone who is.”

—

June 2025 — Atlanta, Georgia

Paige’s words have hung over my head like a cloud over the last week.

I’ve made a great handful of friends since leaving Atlanta for LA, all of which I’d like to think have made huge impacts in my life, but none of which even compare to my friendship with Paige.

She’s amazing. Not a flaw in her Godsend personality. And not just in the building-a-grocery-store-in-her-hometown kinda way, but in literally every way imaginable. I laugh harder around her, she gives me amazing advice, and we just clicked almost instantly. It was so, different?

That’s probably the best word, different.

At first I thought it was admiration. I was a fan of hers and as such I felt a certain way about being friends with her. It felt good.

In reality, my idea couldn’t possibly be more far fetched.

I’ve never once questioned my sexuality. For me, my “normal” has just always been guys. There was never a girl friend of mine that made me feel a certain way, or a girl crush that was anything more than a brief fixation. So believe me when I say that how I feel about Paige— when she texts me, or calls to say she misses me, and especially when she calls me angel— that is far from my normal.

It all happened too fast, too much for me to process. I thought my connection with Julian was quick, I mean after a week I was all about him. But me and Paige? We clicked off of one conversation, maybe even the second she fell into my lap at the game. I have no idea how to feel about that.

So as a result, I haven’t spoken to her since that night in Dallas. It thought it would be simple, since it gave me the opportunity to focus on my shows and my career. Yet, all it has me doing is fucking missing her.

I’m seated on the couch in my dressing room backstage before my show in Atlanta. My thumb is hovering over the girl’s contact. Her contact photo stares back at me dangerously. It’s a photo of the two of us from Cameron’s dinner party, Paige’s nose is scrunched as she throws up a peace sign and I’m showing all 32 while throwing up one of my own.

I’m about to press the contact. I don’t know much but I assume she doesn’t have a game tonight, and all I want before going on stage is to hear her voice as she talks about literally anything.

I don’t care about how wrong it feels to be thinking about her in this way, or the fact that I should probably be on stage in less than 10 minutes. All I’m thinking about is Paige.

So yeah, I’m about to click on the dial button when the janky silver door knob twists open. I catch a peak at some royal blue flowers before all 6 feet and 3 inches of Julian steps through the door. My face doesn’t even try to mask its shock.

He looks handsome in his outfit. He always does. A white shirt with a black zip up hoodie along with jean shorts and a pair of Timbs. He’s gotten a haircut, I can tell from how clean his lineup is. His natural curls are pulled into cornrows down the back of his head.

It’s my first time seeing his face in a few days and in person since our awkward goodbye at LAX last week. Oh yeah, I haven’t spoken to him very much this past week either. Oddly enough, it was easier to do than with Paige.

When he steps closer, Julian hands me the flowers first before sitting next to me on the couch.

“What’re you doin’ here?” I ask incredulously. He pulls me into a hug from where we sit on the couch, cologne travels through the air and up into my nose. Dior Sauvage, I could point it out anywhere.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute.” Julian says. He leans into me and our lips connect softly, much different to the manner we’ve been treating one another with over the last couple weeks. Even then I don’t hesitate when I kiss him back. His lips feel so familiar, and they are because I haven’t felt them in quite some time. “Thought I should surprise you.” He mutters against my lips.

I pull away haphazardly, his eyes stare back into mine. Only this time it’s not as familiar, namely the fact that they aren’t big blue orbs that I swear dilate ever so slightly when they look at mine.

My feet lift me off the couch and over to the vanity. I place the flowers he gave me, roses, on the surface. “Sure did surprise me.” I joke. When I turn back around, with my hands pressed to the vanity chair behind me, Julian is manspreading slightly, the look on his face one that I call suggestive. “I have to be on stage in like… seven minutes.” I announce awkwardly with a glance to the gold watch on my wrist.

“So?”

“So, you have to get outta here and I have to finish up sound stuff.” I explain. My fingers fix the smeared lip gloss on my chin while I look down at him.

Julian stands up and approaches me, it’s times like this where I forget how tall he actually is. And the shoes on his feet give him another inch or two.

“What’s up wit’ you, babe? If you don’t want me here, I can go back to LA.” I don’t like the tone in his voice, mainly because it’s pointed as if he wants to say something to me but knows that it would upset me.

“What? No, I literally have to be on stage. You know how Kaylee gets.” I tell him. My hand reaches up for his tanned cheek and he doesn’t fight me off. I hear my phone ring in on the couch, but I can’t take it on stage with me so ignore it. It’s probably Kaylee cursing me out for being late.

Julian presses a kiss to my palm and I internally shudder. “You sure?” Just like that his tone is different. It’s the soft and deeper baritone that made me fall for him in the first place, not the aggressive accusatory voice I’ve become used to.

I nod. My mouth opens up to speak when I’m cut off by multiple bangs on the door before it swings open.

“Julian, I told you to wait until after the show. Raye we gotta go, now!” It’s Kaylee, as it always is. She reaches for my arm, which is bare due to my stylist's decision to fit me in a strapless top for tonight’s show. “You give me gray hairs, I swear.” She mumbles as she pulls me away from Julian.

In my head I’m silently thanking her for what I think was either Julian trying to have sex with me or him trying to start an argument about me not wanting to have sex with him. Either way I’m thankful.

As we leave, I hear my phone ring again from the couch. Julian reaches for it, and just before the door shuts I see him press a button and toss it back onto the couch.

It shouldn’t bother me because I have bigger priorities, namely the crowd of 10,000 people who paid money for this show. But still, it plays in the back of my mind while Kaylee scolds me and my sound manager fits the earpiece to my ear and puts the microphone in my hand.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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bekolxeram · 2 months ago

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Idea/prompt by @jackmichaela, from this post. This is maybe not exactly what you're asking for, but I'm not good at rewriting scenes. I'm only good at filling in blanks so... I hope you like it.

Tommy usually hates hospital visits. They’re either heart-wrenching or tedious, no in between.

This time, it’s different. Since Hen delivered good news about Denny on the group chat, everyone seems so much more at ease: Evan is not scratching his face anymore, Eddie paces down his mission to destroy the whole bowl of Halloween candies, and sergeant Grant is talking to some teenagers at the reception desk. Tommy picks up a magazine next to him, USA Today, and starts flipping through it. Though he fails to focus on the celebrity interviews or the healthy diet tips in front of him, he is simply basking in the warm familial atmosphere around him.

Then everyone’s phone dings all at once again.

He looks up to find Eddie, struggling to contain his giggle.

“What’s happening this time?” Tommy asks. He scans around and see the rest of the 118 holding in a laugh, just like Eddie. They seem to be watching something on their phone with earbuds in, a smart and considerable choice in a hospital lobby, but Tommy has no clue about the origin of their amusement.

“Oh… oh, it’s nothing. Just a funny cat video.” Evan interjects, face turning red.

“Evan?” Tommy suspects.

“You can take mine. I was there anyway, I’ve seen it all.” Eddie hands Tommy his phone, with a devilish smirk on his face. Evan shoots him a death glare in return.

On Eddie’s phone screen, Tommy sees two clips sent to the 118 group chat, both of them prominently feature Evan’s face in the thumbnail.

“Please don’t do this. I was high on medications.” Evan pleads.

“It’s okay. I swear I won’t hold your intoxicated speeches against you. I just want to be part of the gang this time.” Tommy smiles softly at his boyfriend, then kisses him on a relatively unaffected patch of skin on his cheek.

Tommy presses play.

The first clip is a shaky video of Evan in an ambulance.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Eddie asks in the background.

“Muu-- better.” Evan slurs. “Uh, let me tell you a secret… I have a crush on someone….”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Eddie says jovially.

“He uh… tall, and hot, and big…” Evan sighs dreamily. “He’s strong, he used to be in the Army.” He points a finger at the camera.

“Well, I’m flattered, but I don’t really swing that w…”

“No! Ewww! You’re like a brother to me.”

“Ew? That’s a little harsh. I mean, I’m not that bad looking, right?”

“Naaaaaaaa? You’re attractive too? You’re just not the man of my dream.”

“And… who’s that guy exactly?” Eddie asks with a guiding question?

“It’s Tah – Tah – ”

“Tah – ?”

“Tarzan!” Evan exclaims. “He’s got big hands, big biceps the size of my head, a big heart, and… those V-shaped lines leading from his super cut abs to his giant d…” Evan is almost drooling.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for me.” Eddie stops him before he can get too explicit with his ode.

“You’re homophobic!”

“Wait, what? You said it, I’m your brother. I just don’t want to know too much about my brother’s sex life.”

“I just spent too much time not living my life to its fullest, because of ignorant people.” Evan laments.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know how hard it was for y…”

“Meeeeeeeeee! I was the ignorant people… I didn’t realize how hot men were… I didn’t know how much I wanted to suck Tah...” Evan drags out his vowels, while trying to point at something in the air with his hands.

The video suddenly turns into a blur. “Alright, stop moving before you hurt yourself more.” Then it ends abruptly.

“Tarzan, huh?” Tommy turns to look at Evan. “Is that what you think of me?” Evan’s boils are as red as tomatoes by now.

“Fine! You’ve all had your fun. Now can you spare me from further embarrassment?” Evan requests, trying to hide his blushing cheeks under the collar of his jacket.

“You know very well that as a firefighter,” Chimney cuts in, “drugged up ramblings are required to be public knowledge by law. For transparency’s sake and as entertainment for other first responders,” He laughs, gesturing for Tommy to play the next clip.

The second clip starts with Evan in the hospital room.

“Tell me more about your crush, Tarzan.” Eddie demands, again, in the background.

“What? Who’s Tarzan? I said Tommy.” Evan replies, with much less slurring in his speech this time.

Eddie seems to have clocked the sedation weaning off, “Um… You’re back with us, Buck? How’s the pain? Do you need me to call the nurse…”

“What? Are you out of your mind? It’s Tommy! Did Chili Oils wipe your memories too?” Evan furrows his brows, with a deeply confused expression. “Tommy! My husband!”

“Umm… when did you get married?” Eddie asks, just as confused.

“At Maddie’s wedding. No! Wait! We weren’t married yet. I only thought about it back then! When he came to me still in his turnouts and soot all over his face I just…” Evan says with an enamored smile. “Wait, where am I? Am I in the hospital? Why am I here?”

“I’m just gonna call the nurse…”

“I’m getting married here! Like Chimney! Eddie, you got me into some bachelor party shenanigans and I end up having to marry the love of my life here!”

“I didn’t…”

“Do I look good? No, wait, I’m naked! I need a suit!” Evan pats all over his own body with both hands.

“Stop! Don’t move your bad arm!” Eddie tries stopping him. Then the clip starts getting blurry again.

“I’m marrying Tommy with my birthday suit! Like the ancient Greek! Do I look good, Eddie? Are my pecs popping under this cover?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, now stop flailing around.” Eddie says before the video ends.

Evan puts his face into his hands, flustered and embarrassed. “You’re happy now?”

“Of course I am. That’s payback for making me listen to your graphic description of your love life under sedation.” Eddie frowns.

“Well, I think that’s very cute.” Tommy interrupts. “We’re in no hurry to get married but… I appreciate you blurting out your attraction to me, unlike our first date…”

“Shut up!” Evan hides his head on Tommy’s shoulder to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Make me.” Tommy responds.

Evan simply looks his boyfriend deep in the eyes and kisses him, softly but deeply.

“Hi, thanks for being here. Denny’s awake, you can go see him now if you want to.” Hen comes out to update the 118 family. “Especially you, Tommy. The first thing Denny asked was for the cool pilot who’s good at painting to draw the most badass helicopter on his cast.” Hen asks Tommy, with the exhaustion and relief of a previously worrying mother in her eyes.

“Of course.” Tommy replies.

#Not a prolific writer myself #Only have one fic under my belt #Speedwriting is super new to me #Hope you don't mind the flaws #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #kinley #911 spoilers #911 abc #bucktommy fic

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 5 months ago

Text

Better Than Revenge

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: uhhhh in accidentally posting the wrong thing I think I wrote the wrong request at some point so you know what there’s gonna be a bonus story okay. OKAY now that I’m reading this I’m- I think- I did the request wrong and uhhh….. well here’s you know evidently another bonus fic I hate everything 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Eddie can literally hear Buck laughing all the way to the truck, okay maybe not all the way but a damn good ways down the hall that’s for sure

He has no fucking clue how he got locked in a closet, but he did. At least he wasn’t alone… he looks over at you, sitting with your ankles crossed on the floor. Your head hung so low he can’t bear to look at you anymore without asking

And he really shouldn’t.

He should just keep to himself, he should just-

“Are you okay?”

Dammit Eddie.

“Huh?” You look up at him, your face stained with tears and it breaks his heart, his Mexican, telenovela, hopeless romantic heart. Because you’re so pretty and you smell so good and is this stupid room getting smaller??

Okay, that was a bit much but you get it. He gets on one knee, pulls his glove off with his teeth, and reaches for you, tilting your head up

“Hey… hey what’s going on? Are you hurt? Did something happen??”

His inner hero is practically clawing at its enclosure to save help girl, this really really, pretty girl.

And your inner…. Uh, something is clawing at its enclosure to jump this man.

“No! No, it’s- not it’s nothing like that” you laugh awkwardly, wiping at your tears quickly. “I- I'm sorry” You shove those thoughts very very (not) very far away as you try to control your tears

“No please, don’t apologize… are you okay?” Eddie comes to sit next to you, plopping down on the cement floor. He takes his helmet off along with his other glove and gets comfy… they’re gonna be there for a while.

“I’m… yeah I’m fine” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders weakly. He nods slowly, looking down at his helmet in his hands

“You know…. If you tell me the truth-“ he picks it up, setting it down carefully on your head “I’ll let you wear the helmet”

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder and shaking your head slowly “I’m not five oh my god” you giggle as you hold the helmet on your head and look up at him

“Yeah, but it got you to smile didn’t it?” He shrugs off his jacket, the room may be small but it is entirely concrete and entirely underground, he can feel the chill in the air as he puts it over your shoulders, the frayed, distressed shorts and oversized crop top not really cutting it down here.

You hug the jacket to your body, sticking your arms through the holes. It smells good, kind of smokey, kind of earthy, definitely something that’s probably signature him.

“Alright, I’ve given you my coat, and my hat. Now you gotta tell me what’s wrong” he nudges you back and you smile a little more, rolling your eyes

“Okay fine. I came to visit my boyfriend? He’s got an office near almost the top floor. Well… uh- it was supposed to be a surprise! But you know… imagine my surprise… when this fucking asshole has his secretary bent over his desk!”

Eddie’s mouth drops open when you say that, he splutters, gesturing wildly and you nod vigorously

“Yeah!!! And she knew he had a girlfriend! She knows me!!!”

He gasps so loudly it echoes around the room

“Are- are you?!!! Are you shitting me?!” He grabs his radio from his jacket, clicking it

“Buck?… oh my god Buck I have tea”

You fall against him laughing as Buck answers back

“Oh my god, spill”

Eddie repeats back what you said, and Buck is gasping wildly, reacting absolutely ridiculously

“Oh you tell me what the fuck this asshole looks like”

“No no I-“

“I’m not gonna beat his ass yet. I just want to know if he even stuck around”

You roll your eyes, describing him and Buck scoffs “Oh. That guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was worried about his office. Said he’s got a nice set of golf clubs he’d gotten for his birthday in there, his prized possession”

Eddie looks at you as you blink back tears “T-that’s all he said? That’s all he’s worried about?” You ask, your voice cracking and Eddie has to look away for a second

“Uh yeah… I’m- I’m sorry kiddo, maybe he doesn’t know you’re in there. Let me find out okay?”

“Okay”

You set the radio down and stare at the wall, just waiting quietly. Eddie reaches out for you, catching a tear as it falls down your cheek

“He probably doesn’t know”

“He does” you sniff, wiping at your tears and sighing loudly “No. he uh- he fucking knows.” You laugh bitterly

“Y/N come on there’s no way he-“

“He fucking knew” Buck growls back into the radio and Eddie picks it up

“Are you shitting me?!”

“It’s okay!” Buck perks up “I punched him in his stupid fucking face!!”

Your head whips to the radio as Eddie laughs “You did what?!” You squeak your face lighting up

“Oh, Buck I could kiss you!!”

“Give it to Eddie for me, I’m sure he’d love that”

“Oh my god she’s not gonna-“

“Bet”

You pull him toward you, kissing him slowly, his hands come to your waist immediately, squeezing lightly as he kisses you back. He moans quietly into your mouth, his lips moving in sync with yours and you purr softly. You pull away a little and he follows you, making a little “nuh huh” noise, and you giggle, letting him cup the back of your head, kissing you deeper. Your hand comes up his chest, fingers pulling at the bottom of his hair when Buck clears his throat

“A-are you guys actually kissing?”

Eddie lets you pull away this time, letting his head rest against the wall behind him as he stares at you. You stare back, your cheeks pink as you wet your lips

“Uh- no?” Eddie answers back and you snort

“That was not very convincing,” You and Buck say in unison. You giggle and go to stand up to stretch your legs out when there’s a sudden loud rumbling noise

“Edd-“ the radio buzzes as the sound gets louder

“Y/N! Come over “ He yanks you down into his lap, pulling you tight into his body as he turns you both over, shielding you. A few panels fall loose from the ceiling around and you scream when something giant hits the door, putting a large dent in it

“Eddie?? Eddie, are you okay? Y/N?? Anyone??”

You sneeze as the dust settles, and Eddie pulls away from you

“That’s your sneeze?” He coughs a little and you punch him in the shoulder

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Oh nothing… little kitty” He coos and you pick up one of the ceiling panels and threaten to hit him with it

“Please, please anyone??” You hear Buck’s voice. Watery and worried

“Buck? Hey, it’s us we’re okay it’s us. What happened??”

“Oh thank god. Oh god Eddie the building settled, you guys are…. A bit more stuck. Is everything okay in there? Is Y/N okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. We’re both okay, just a little dusty… how much is “a bit”?”

“We’re gonna need a crane,” he says bluntly and Eddie groans

“And we’re not high enough on the list are we?”

“List?” You ask quietly

“As long as neither of you are hurt and everything is still structurally sound? No.”

Eddie sighs and looks at you “Other people need that crane more than you and I do”

“So now we’re really really stuck huh?”

“Yup”

It’s been two hours since the door had been blocked. You’ve got your head in Eddie’s lap as he strokes your hair slowly, listening to you talk. You’ve both gone back and forth, discussing a lot of different things, a lot of deep things that a stranger knowing wouldn’t really hurt anything…

“You think one day you’ll feel normal?” You ask quietly, picking at his pants and he shrugs, looking down at your hair around his lap

“I don’t know”

“For what it’s worth? I hope you find your peace Eddie… I really do” you mumble and he smiles softly

“I dunno… this has been pretty peaceful” He chuckles quietly “Thanks uh… thanks for listening”

“Hey? What are “locked in a closet” buddies for?”

You sit up, giving him a little kiss on the cheek, and push yourself up. He looks at you as you stretch above him, admiring your plush curves from his position on the floor.

It wasn’t the first time the conversation had turned a little steamy, a little flirty. But it was the first time he’d felt a little bit of a pull toward you. Especially after the things he’d just told you, for the first time, he felt heard… he felt seen. Not to mention that freaking kiss, he couldn’t take his mind off of it, the feel of your lips against his, the way your body felt against him.

“You know uh… you’re really beautiful. I can’t believe Jared fucking cheated on you.”

Your cheeks flush as you look down at him, he’s sat between your legs, his ankles crossed. There’s no harm in letting you know how pretty he thinks you are…

“You uh… you really think so?” You blush and he nods slowly

“He’s never seen you in a fireman’s uniform huh? Never seen the way it drowns you.”

“Well I mean- he’s not as big as you are”

You mean how tall he is, how… big his arms are, how broad his shoulders are-

“I didn’t think he was… leaving such a pretty little thing like you”

“Are you flirting with me?” You turn away, toward the blocked door, and you hear his legs uncross, widening his stance.

“Maybe? Would you mind if I was?” He twiddles his thumbs and you turn back, reaching down and grabbing his gloves, he watches you slide them on, drowning in his work outfit and it’s doing things to him if he’s being honest. Is this a kink? It feels like a new kink.

“It’s helpful… in- in a moment where I’m not feeling so hot you know?”

“Are you joking?? You’re gonna let that asshole make you feel like you’re not the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen? To ever exist??”

You laugh a little “Oh come on Eddie? The-“

“Hottest.” He interrupts you not even giving you room to fight him

“I still think you’re just saying that. But thank you” You give him a little bow and he pulls you down by the jacket and you stumble onto his lap

“Hey be careful! You might-“

He presses his lips to yours, his hands coming up and cupping your face. You shortcircuit for a second and he smirks against your lips. He takes your hands one by one sets them on his chest and nips at your bottom lip when you curl your fingers around his shirt

“Now you’re getting it” He whispers breathily before slipping his tongue past your lips, taking full advantage of your floundering and exploring your mouth. His hands start to roam, sliding beneath the oversized coat and gently across your bare middle. He hums appreciatively as they come up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing across the bottom of your bra

“You can tell me to stop” He kisses down your jaw, biting on the nape of your neck and you gasp softly, melting into his body

“N-no fucking chance. God, you’re kissing me better than he ever did”

Eddie looks up at you as he sucks and nibbles at your collarbone “Bet there’s a whole lot of things I can do better than he ever did…” His hands cup your breasts, squeezing gently and massaging them slowly

“We’re alone… and it seems like we’ve got time…” You trail off, your cheeks blushing and you feel him grin against your skin

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“That depends on what you think I’m suggesting”

Eddie takes the radio from his jacket again “Hey Buck, you there?”

“Always”

“Is Jared out there?”

The line is silent for a moment and you take that opportunity to surprise Eddie, rocking your hips forward on him and attacking his lips. You kiss him frantically, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him closer. He chuckles wickedly, pushing you back onto the floor and settling between your legs, you struggle out of the coat and he laughs, helping you get it off

“Eddie?” Buck's voice comes through the radio and he stretches to reach for it while unbuttoning your shorts at the same time

“Here” He answers, watching you desperately unbutton his shirt

“Why do you have so many!?” You hiss and he snorts, just ripping it open the rest of the way

“Better??”

You’re practically drooling over his chest, his skin smooth and tanned. You blink slowly as Buck comes back

“Yeah, he’s definitely still here. Trust me, I’ve been making him feel as guilty as possible. I gotchu Y/N”

You pull your shirt over your head, and Eddie bites his lip

“Damn…”

you grin wickedly as you pull your arms from your bra straps, pushing it further down your waist and out of the way, the cool air around you causing your nipples to pebble

“Jesus fuckin-“

“Eddie?? You there?”

You reach forward and click the button “He’s here. Thanks for making Jared feel guilty!”

Eddie takes your breasts in his hands, kneading them slowly, squeezing and teasing your nipples. He leans forward, kissing the valley between your breasts, pulling them together, and rubbing his face against them. He bites the sensitive skin gently, leaving teeth marks and little bruises behind. Your breath hitches, tugging at his hair and egging him on to do it again and again.

“Fuck you’re hot” His hips grind down into yours and your thighs shake

“I want you, Y/N”

“Hey guys if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, Revenge sex is the way to go. Trust me I’ve been telling Jared all about how amazing and cool and sexy Eddie is!” Buck squeals through the radio and Eddie rolls his eyes as you giggle

“Thanks, man. Thank you, uh we’re just- we’re-“ You shimmy out of your shorts, revealing the tiny thong you’d put on as a surprise and now it’s Eddie’s turn to short circuit. He stares at the sheer material covering your dripping sex. He drags his finger over the top of them, enjoying the way your slick coats his finger

“You’re???” Buck radios and you reach forward, taking the radio back

“Let that asshole know he’s been replaced”

You toss it aside, Buck is making some weird strangled screaming noise and screaming at Jared when the radio cuts off. Eddie’s pants are off as fast as he possibly can and he’s stroking his cock between your thighs

His eyes darken as he lines up his cock with your entrance, pushing inside you slowly. You’re tight, and he relishes the feeling of being inside you.

“O-oh my god- Fuck” You wriggle under him, adjusting to his size as best you can “H-holy sh-“

“Bigger?” His voice is so haughty and confident and you nod quickly, squirming

“Sooooo much bigger”

“You gonna be okay?” He puts his hand on your tummy, pushing you back down and you gasp loudly “Need more time?” He asks teasingly as his hips start to move slowly.

You shake your head, reaching for him and he grins, leaning into you as you rip off his gloves and claw at his back, your body arching into him eagerly

Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts. He kisses your neck, his other hand gripping your ass, guiding his cock in and out of your wet heat.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his pace picking up. He’s relentless, his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust. Your legs fall open wider, your body bouncing with each snap of his hips.

Eddie grins, feeling your legs spread wider, giving him better access. He picks up the pace, his thrusts now brutal, his cock slamming into you with every movement. “You like that, don’t you? You like it rough?” He growls, his hand gripping your throat, squeezing gently.

You’re so close, the building tension threatening to explode. Eddie can feel it too, his own release building with each thrust. He pounds into you, his grip on your throat tightening, the combination of pain and pleasure driving you both over the edge.

Eddie moans your name, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes. You cry out, your body convulsing as you reach your own climax. He holds you close, his breathing heavy as he rides out the aftershocks.

“Damn, that was hot,” he pants, his cock still buried inside you.

“S-so- so-“ You sound delirious as he releases your throat and pulls out, leaving a trail of cum between your legs.

“Fuck” He mumbles as he falls next to, pulling you into his arms. You curl into his body, nuzzling your nose against his chest and he buries his face in your hair

“Uh huh” you giggle, your voice muffled

“I- I realize” he clears his throat “We uh- we did this a bit backward… but Buck is having a cookout this weekend…you wanna be my date?”

“Will there be other sexy firefighters?” You look up at him and he rolls his eyes, chuckling and giving your butt a little spank

“Not as sexy as me… will you do me the honor? Y/N”

“I’ll be there… you want my number?” You grin sleepily

“Mhmmm” He turns over, covering you more with his body to keep you warm “Need your address too so I can pick you up”

“What a gentleman” You giggle and he kisses your nose

“Can I ask you somethin else?”

“Uh-huh”

“You uh…. Think you might be okay with just skipping to being my girlfriend?”

“That depends” You murmur, your voice becoming a lot softer as you start to fall asleep

“On?” He gives you a little nudge so you wake up

“If you don’t mind skipping straight to being my boyfriend?“

“Oh hell yes”

You’re not really sure how long you've been asleep, but Eddie is shaking you gently. Your clothes are back on properly and you’re wrapped up in his jacket still. He’s got his clothes back on and his shirt is as closed as he can get it. You can hear the sounds of the crane working to get you two out

“Time to leave?” You ask, rubbing your eyes and Eddie gives you a thumbs up

“Time to leave baby girl”

Your cheeks flush deeply, It had felt like a dream honestly, you weren’t even sure it had happened. But when Eddie grabs your hips and kisses you again desperately you know it wasn’t.

The door flies open and slams against the wall, you shriek as you pull away, covering your eyes from the sunlight on your face

“Y/N!!!, Eddie!!”

You recognize the voice from the radio as he comes over and scoops you up, hugging you as tightly as he can

“You’re okay!!”

Eddie gets up from the floor, groaning loudly and stretching his back “I am too damn old for this”

You snort as Buck picks Eddie’s helmet up off the floor and sets it on your head

“You ready to get out of here cutie?” Buck takes your hand and you look up at Eddie who shrugs his shoulders

“I’m ready”

Buck helps you out carefully, climbing over a few pieces of debris left in the way.

“Hey, you sure you didn’t get hurt?” He’s standing in front of you, his hands on your hips as he steadies you. Eddie lands on his feet easily, adjusting his shirt again to try and keep it closed

“What uh- what do you mean?” You ask as you shrug off Eddie’s coat and hand it to him

“You’re walking funny, honey. And you wince every time-“ He stops for a minute, his eyes widening

“Did- did you guys actually-“

He’s interrupted by a man calling your name, he’s got a black eye and you slap your hand over your mouth

“You seriously punched him?!” You laugh to Buck as Jared comes over

“And it’s so worth the amount of trouble I got in” He snickers as Jared stops in front of you

“Baby?? Baby, are you okay?” He holds your arms, looking you over and you blink slowly

“Are you kidding?? I thought when I ran out of your office screaming that we were over? That was enough to let you know Hey! We’re over!”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Jared chuckles awkwardly “That- that didn’t happen, honey”

Buck whirls on him and he flinches a little but keeps his eyes on you. Eddie is sitting quietly in the back of the ambulance being looked over

“Uhhh what??” You scoff in bewilderment

“Gosh Baby” he laughs, “I think you hit your head, sweetie”

Your mouth drops open and you shove Jared away

“I know- I fucking know” you shout “You are not trying to convince me I didn’t see you fucking Angela!!!!”

“Y/N honey you need to calm down. This is not the way my girlfriend should be-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Eddie is up and he’s on the ground. It happens so fast you’re not even sure you saw it, Eddie punched him right across the face, sending him spinning to the ground

“I think you mean my girlfriend. Come on gorgeous let’s go get something to eat I’m starving.”

Buck runs in circles screaming and pointing at Jared as Eddie puts his arm over your shoulders and you proudly lead him over to your car.

“Yo you just got yo ass WHOOPED”

#words by rhys #911 x reader #rhys writes #eddie diaz #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fanfic #911 fandom #I need to check my requests more often #WHY ME WHYYYYYYYYY NOW I GOTTA RE-WRITE #I guess yall are getting a bunch of fics

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limabean42 · 6 months ago

Note

I SAW your embarrassment nsfw hcs… can you make one for anxiety as well? With a afab partner (gn is fine if ur uncomfy with that) pls take ur time 😋

♡Anxiety first time smut and general NSFW headcanons♡

Woooo I love Anxiety so much she consumes my every thought not even lying, I want her so bad. Anxiety please marry me I love you more than anything. This one also reads like a oneshot/headcanon combo. Also two posts in one day :0

Thanks for requesting <3

Reader is afab/has female anatomy; this is straight up smut but it gets to be more mild near the end; dominant reader; oral sex

MDNI

Spice level 🌶️: hot and explicit, like way hotter than I was intending it to be. I hope that’s ok

• You both would have to be dating a while for the thought to even cross her mind

• When it does, I bet you can guess what happens

• She overthinks everything

• Not only is she worried about doing sexual activities for the first time but how it will happen

• She hasn’t the slightest clue on how to proceed with anything sexual

• She doesn’t know if you want her to be on top or bottom, or how to preform

• Once you bring up the idea to her she’s honestly relieved because she doesn’t have to burden this worry alone anymore

• “I’m so glad you brought this up. I’ve been thinking about it constantly.” she sighed in relief

• She then became hyperaware of what she just said and realized she sounded like she’s been constantly nonstop horny this entire time, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not a pervert I’ve just been worried about how we’ll have sex… if we do at all I mean. We don’t have to.”

• You’re used to her rambling awkward behavior so you just giggle and comfort her

• Before you two actually have sex for the first time you have a long chat

• The purpose of this chat was for Anxiety to relieve some anxiety about the situation that’s going to happen soon

• Of course she asked a ton of questions like what she should do to make you feel good, how it gets started, and if she should top or bottom for the first time

• You said whatever comes naturally for her and whenever you both are in the mood

• She felt a little better but realized the best way to not stress about the situation was to do it and learn from experience

• Surprisingly you two didn’t talk about it for the next few days. She was initially expecting to do it that day or the next, but she did still need some time to process

• One day while she was in her massage chair after almost having another panic attack her mind started to wander to dirty territories

• She thought of you kissing her and all the noises you’d make

• She thought of caressing your body and how soft you’d feel as she grasped you tightly in her hands

• She thought of your fingers caressing her chilled body and slipping inside her

• At this point she was in her own fantasy world, becoming increasingly in the mood to finally have you all to herself

• Anxiety’s eyes drifted to the control panel. All the emotions including you were there, too intrigued with what was going on to realize her daydreaming. Too busy to realize the growing wetness between her legs

• Her eyes drifted to you and lingered there. She began to think again. What would your cute face contort to once she made you cum? Would you be loud, quiet, or somewhere in between?

• Suddenly she wasn’t nervous anymore, just horny. That’s how she knew it was showtime

• Anxiety got up from her chair. It was time for something else to make her feel good

• She walked toward you and grabbed your hand suddenly, leading you to her bedroom

• You were surprised before you realized where you were going. You smirked

• Anxiety sat you down on her bed and stood between your legs as she went in for a kiss

• She mewled into it and you were pushed down onto the bed, laying on your back

• You reached up and grabbed her waist under her shirt

• She made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a squeal and a moan

• It sounded so hot. You had to have her now

• You flipped her over so that she was below you

• While you continued to kiss, you reached your hand under her sweater again and up to grab her petite tits

• “Oh fuck” she muttered impulsively and then covered her mouth with both hands after realizing what she said

• “It’s okay, let me take care of you. Let all your words out.” You respond as you put your head under her sweater and start kissing her torso up and down

• Anxiety let out a few breathy moans. This felt better than she anticipated

• You lifted her arms up and dragged her sweater over her head, revealing her bare chest

• Truth is, Anxiety is pretty insecure. Even about her appearance

• She didn’t think she was the most attractive emotion out there and sometimes found it hard to believe you thought she was beautiful the same way she thinks you are beautiful

• So when you lift off her sweater her arms cover her chest while her hands shield her embarrassed face from you

• “It’s okay Anxiety, you’re amazing.” you responded to her gesture, bringing your lips down to encompass her nipple

• “Thank you. You are too.” She stuttered out, gripping your hair

• Her breath is shaky as you continue sucking, switching from one breast to the other

• You trailed more kisses down her torso and stop at her pants. You unzip them and pull everything down to reveal her downstairs area

• Anxiety squirmed as you used your middle and pointer finger to spread her folds

• “Cute” you commented

• Even though it was a subtle remark it made her insides clench

• You put a finger inside her and started moving slowly

• She squirmed so you held her down with your other hand as you started moving your finger quicker in and out of her tight insides

• That’s when you discovered she’s pretty loud in bed

• After she was even more soaked from you fingering her, you decided to eat her out

• If you thought she was loud before then you’re in for a sweet treat

• There’s no possible way the others didn’t hear her from rooms away

• Both of you were enjoying yourselves though. Too caught up in passion to even care what was going on outside the bedroom walls

• You sucked on her delicate clit. She almost screamed

• “Oh my fuck y/n please it feels so good keep going ohmhyfuck I love you I love you so much fuck don’t stop!”

• You continued until she announced she was about to cum

• “Ah y/n I think something’s happening I feel like I’m going to pee it feels so good though don’t stop baby!”

• The pressure buildup finally released and she came with a high pitched squeal. Her whole body was shaking and she was pulsating

• “Let me take care of you now.” She managed to mutter, still recovering from her orgasm

• Before you could even move she was pulling you on top of her face. She practically ripped your bottoms off and moaned and she saw your wet pussy

• “Please use me however you want.” She looked up at you and began to gently lick and suck your clit

• You threw your head back and began using her face

• You were about to cum a couple minutes later

• You grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand and her hair with the other,1 riding her face

• She couldn’t breath well but she was too busy lapping your pussy to care

• When you came she let out her biggest moan yet, almost as if she had cum again just from pleasuring you

• You collapsed on the bed next to her, catching your breath

• You praised her for doing such a good job and she confessed that she did in fact cum again when you did

• “You just looked so euphoric how could I not?” she added

• You two cleaned each other up in the bathroom and went back to bed to cuddle and nap

• In general she’s a very willing partner in bed

• She’ll try almost anything with you as long as it isn’t too far out of her comfort zone

• Doesn’t usually use nicknames for you unless she’s really close

• She’s a switch but usually submissive in both roles. So she’s either a service top or a regular subby bottom. However, maybe something could trigger her to be more dominant on her own one day

• Prefers you to take the lead no matter if you’re topping or bottoming

• Lives for your pleasure and drives to entice praises out of you

• She loves being praised, it gives her the right amount of reinforcement

• The more she’s praised, the more freaky and bold she gets

• Not the type to initiate dirty talk but she’d try if you were saying naughty things to her first

• You know how she has those cute squealing moments in the movie?

• Well I think this goes without saying, but she squeals when she cums

• Also squeaks and squeals when you toss her around

• Likes leaving her socks on during sex

• Curls her toes when she cums

• Is a master with her fingers. Y’all have seen her at the control panel

• You guys invest in a strap on

• That’s a conversation for another day though 🫣

• Likes when you pet her head afterward as she lays on you

• Sometimes she gets an overwhelming euphoric feeling after you two are done and starts crying because she loves you so much

• You wipe her tears away and give her kisses

• Her favorite position would be missionary cause she likes the intimacy of it and being close to you

• She’s mostly vanilla. She wants to try all the basic sex stuff before she explores more kinky concepts

• She will get there eventually though

• Makes a checklist of every kink she’s willing to try and checks them off like immediately after you two are done trying them

• Overall, she’s very soft and servicing once she gets in the horny headspace. Just wants to pleasure you forever <3

Thanks for reading! Might have to mark this one as mature later cause sheesh I didn’t expect to make it this spicy. It seems like with each nsfw I write it gets more and more spicy. Anyway, hope you enjoyed :)

#inside out x reader #anxiety x reader #inside out fandom #anxiety smut

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bnhaobservation · 6 months ago

Text

My two cents about chap 426

Hum... maybe I should call this my SIX cents about chap 426 because I'm gonna look at that chapter from three different perspectives.

The first is the Doylist one, in which I'll try to discuss what I think Horikoshi meant with what he represented in the chapter. I'm not Japanese and I might be wrong so take everything with a grain of salt.

The second is the Watsonian one, in which I'll focus on the story itself.

The third... is watching the chapter not keeping into consideration the chapter as a story filled with Japanese culture aimed at Japanese readers but as if it were a story that follows my culture and is aimed at me. This third analysis is here because there's actually a huge cultural clash between how many scenes would look to a Japanese audience and how they look to a person of my culture.

It's food for thoughts about how different cultures can see the same things differently and, while I'm a western, this doesn't mean I expect allt he western to feel the same as there are plenty of countries in the west and while they've similar views... they still can be different among them so it's fine if other westerns would read the chapter in an even different way.

Also this is not meant to be a compaint at Horikoshi or a critic to Japanese culture, just an acknowledgement different cultures see things differently.

Of course you can choose to skip to read one of those three parts if it doesn't interest you.

It's up to you.

Said so let's start.

Doylist commentary: So I’ve already discussed in a previous post how normally, the general attitude of a family would be to dump Touya to his own devices… so, as to prove the Todoroki instead are there to see Touya because they care about him, we’ve the opening discussion in which it’s clearly said not only they are all there but also that they aren’t there merely for a sense of duty. It’s Horikoshi’s roundabout way to say the family CARES.

By the way Fuyumi, Rei and Natsuo got a haircut. While it's obviously due to the hair burning cutting off hair in ancient Asia (Japan, china, Korea & possibly some other Asian cultures) used to symbolize being banished or rejected from their home (which fits with how the family is kind of a social pariah) but currently, cutting long hair into a short cut means to forget the past, leaving the old and starting anew (which might fit with how the family is starting a new life).

So I think Horikoshi also kept this into consideration when he had them cut hair.

We aren’t told where they are but it’s probably either a Villain hospital (they got mentioned in the Overhaul arc)...

...or just a prison as the guy in the room is dressed in a way that’s similar to the guards that were in Tartarus.

Touya is in a medical contraption which looks like a coffin as the guard explain he’s slowly dying.

He looks terrible, Horikoshi even got rid of his hair, which Touya had instead kept through the whole battle. He looks so bad (there are even nails that, I guess, hold still his head and what seems to be mechanical contraptions around his jaw and neck, never mentioning the restrains that hold his body still… though we can’t see anymore the cables that were visible in the previous chapter… guess Horikoshi retconned his previous design…) some readers have compared him to a Cenobite. For who has no idea what a Cenobite is, they’re characters from the Horror movie “Hellraiser”, extra-dimensional beings who are mutilated and brainwashed into torturing humans for all eternity. Likely the visual look is to sweeten the pill that Touya is meant to die. In such a state it will seem cruel to keep him alive.

The announcement Touya is about to die is likely meant for the readers, not for the family, as they probably already know, hence not only there’s no reaction from them but this is also meant to be Horikoshi’s attempt to clue the readers in the fact we’ve to let Touya die.

His family has no hope he’ll survive and it’s doing nothing in this sense which is also a way to tell us we’re meant to deal with it... and Horikoshi likely chose this as this is the most ergonomic solution for Touya's ending.

Japan has death penalty, and fighting so that Touya would survive, only to sentence him to death for his crimes afterward, would be counterproductive for the story as it would only stretch it and make it sadder.

I’m pretty sure Horikoshi thinks letting Touya die on his own is a good compromise.

The following talk between Touya and Enji is a mean to conclude both Enji and Touya’s arcs.

The remark that Enji always meant to retire is here to tell us it’s not just because he can’t fight anymore, so he’s forced to. You might remember Enji himself said ‘Endeavor’ died back when he woke up in the hospital at the end of the first war.

The fact Horikoshi also had Enji’s body being basically destroyed (along with Fuyumi and Rei getting scarred) is part to show the consequences of their mistakes, part to symbolically have the family also share what Touya went through (when he burned himself over and over).

We’ve a lot of close up on eyes, to go back with the theme of looking, of how Touya only wanted for his father to look at him and how he’s been looking at him the entire time.

There’s another visual good reason why Enji is on a wheelchair.

When Enji says he’ll come to talk with Touya, Horikoshi represents Touya as standing, dressed as Dabi and with the scars Dabi had prior to his reveal but with Touya’s hairstyle. Visually it’s to tell us both identities have merged. Touya isn’t dead… but he’s no more just Touya, Dabi is part of who he is. His arm is missing but HE IS STANDING, he’s not trapped in that contraption. Enji is also represented without bandages or burns… but he’s still seated on a wheelchair. This forces him to look up at his son, while Touya looks down at him. Even though now Enji isn’t saying sorry, his words and the visual imply this is also an apology to Touya, even if Enji already said to him he was sorry after the end of the fight.

This is BIG in Japan so in this way Horikoshi makes the scene more emotional.

Now… previously Touya didn’t want to talk, he wanted to be seen by Enji. His catchphrase was ‘look’ not ‘hear’ (as this chap itself remind us).

He was desperate to show his father what he can do. In chap 390, moments before Shouto saved the day, Horikoshi introduced the idea he wanted to talk with his family.

It wasn’t a bad idea, first of all because now he’s not in the state to show much, so either Horikoshi were to kill him short after he almost blew up Japan, or they wouldn’t have much to watch now. Introducing the idea he wanted to talk as a way to ‘translate’ his ‘I want to be seen’ gives them something to do with the additional time they’ve with him and could be considered foreshadowed by the times Touya tried to talk with his family and they didn’t really listen to him. So the idea that seeing him could also be done by talking with him works.

It’s also an extra attempt to make clear to the readers Touya’s soul will be soothed/saved even if he’s going to die (I’ve discussed how this might be important for Japanese readers while it often falls flat to western readers in another post).

Horikoshi also kind of give closure to the Touya/Shouto narrative. By giving them the same favorite food he draws a connection between the two siblings.

The reminding of their fight isn’t just here to remind us of how the battle. What Touya said before that bit was they shared the same blood but were really different. Now instead he’s shown Shouto has something in common with him, something good and nice like a shared taste for a certain food. This denies Touya’s words that they run in parallel but forever apart and with Touya apologizing to Shouto, in a single blow Horikoshi ends the feud between the two siblings as well as giving Touya the chance to do what he wanted to do when he woke up in the orphanage, apologizing.

It can also be that this little exchange was something Horikoshi long planned, as for a long time he had kept Touya’s tastes hidden in his profile so that he could reveal it here.

I know there had been wondering if Touya’s tears are real (hence either his tear ducts regenerated or he lied previously) or bloody or something else. I think the whole point of it according to Horikoshi is that Touya, who used to cry a lot as a kid (and whose tears eventually almost killed him as the fire at Sekoto Peak started from them)...

...then became unable to cry.

Touya was (almost) killed by his own pain and desperation and once he was forced to not show it... well, this also lead him to become a Villain.

The message was not that he wasn’t suffering anymore, but that he couldn’t express it anymore (which is not a good thing)… with Horikoshi going for alternative ways to show him being in pain (his losing blood the hair die dripping from his eyes and so on) that you would notice only if you were paying attention, in short ‘looking at him’.

Now Touya is being looked at and can express his pain as well, though this time is a bittersweet one.

So I don’t think the idea is we should ask ourselves how he can cry, and if it was a lie he couldn’t, but just enjoy the message.

It’s bloody tears? Is he magically able to shed tears again? Or it’s just a symbolic scene? Repeat the MST3K Mantra and just enjoy the fact he’s finally capable to express his pain and WHY because it’s hugely unlikely we’ll get an answer on the why (though maybe the anime might show if they’re bloody tears or not).

Horikoshi gives less space to the closure of the Rei/Touya and Fuyumi/Touya narrative, just having them tell him they want to talk with him.

I think Horikoshi considered the Rei/Touya narrative closed when he had Rei apologize to Touya. Yes, Touya said he wanted to also apologize to his mom, but I think the idea is that Touya’s apology to Shouto is meant to work as a reminder Touya wanted to apologize so Horikoshi doesn’t feel the need to show us that scene.

As for the Touya/Fuyumi narrative… Horikoshi hardly paid it any attention. The only interaction we see between the two of them prior to disaster striking has a 3 years old Fuyumi telling him she doesn’t want him to get hurt, which lead Touya to claim she doesn’t understand. When Fuyumi shows up on the battle ground she fundamentally say something similar by claiming she can’t bear to lose anyone else.

However Horikoshi might have meant for the closure not be her words but her actions. Fuyumi accepts to get burned in order to try to save her family parallels how Touya got himself burned to try to get his father to see him, they both burned because they couldn't bear the pain of not doing anything.

Long story short the reason why Horikoshi hardly give space to Rei and Fuyumi might be that he thinks he had closed their narratives with Touya already.

If, Enji, Rei, Fuyumi and Shouto were all the Todoroki family members I’ll say that the story of the Todoroki family has definitely ended with this chapter. Don’t take me wrong, there’s plenty of things I would wish to see them do and say with Touya, but Horikoshi might feel he had them say all that truly mattered and leave the rest to the readers’ imagination.

However… there’s still the matter of Natsuo.

This chapter mostly seems to close the Enji/Natsuo narrative, but not the Touya/Natsuo one.

In fact it’s noteworthy how through the discussion the only one who said nothing to Touya and tried not to look at him is Natsuo...

and the only moment Natsuo is shown looking is the moment Touya close his eyes.

There’s basically zero interaction between the two of them.

Now… I don’t blame Natsuo for failing to help his brother when he was solely a child of 8… but the story did. The interaction we were shown had Natsuo dismiss an already crying Touya, causing him further grief. In two chapters (302 & 388) Horikoshi has Natsuo thinks if he has talked to Touya or heard him out it would have made a difference.

Now though, Horikoshi leaves him silent.

There’s more.

I know there’s plenty of people who is cheering on the idea Natsuo won’t meet Enji anymore, which seems also how Horikoshi closes the Enji/Natsuo narrative … but this however indirectly means Natsuo won’t meet Touya anymore. Touya can speak with people only few minutes per day and Enji will be there all the days. This means there’s no time for Natsuo to meet his brother outside of the time his father will also be there.

Either the closure to the Touya/Natsuo narrative is that the two will never meet again (so they won’t have a chance to talk again and reconcile) or we’ll get another interaction between Touya and Natsuo.

Since Horikoshi raised a point previously that implied the importance of Touya and Natsuo talking, to me it feels a bit weird he would decide to go this way.

Let me be clear again, this is not about denying Natsuo the possibility to decide he’s furious with his brother and doesn’t want to see him anymore. This is about Horikoshi tossing in previously the idea it would have been important for Natsuo to talk with Touya and him regretting not doing and… then having him not do it again. While it’s a legitimate choice for Natsuo to make, in terms of story writing is kind of an odd choice… especially because Natsuo’s words seem to imply he’s trying to leave the past behind (even the visual places him ahead, in front of his family which is behind him)…

...which again, fair choice, but there was a whole narrative in the story about how the past doesn’t die so I’m not sure why Horikoshi would want instead let Natsuo go this way.

So I think it’s possible we’ll get another Touya/Natsuo interaction… which might include a Todoroki family/Natsuo interaction as well. Maybe Natsuo will bring his girlfriend to meet Touya. It would make a good chance for her to be introduced to us readers as well before the end as so far we only caught a glimpse of her.

On another note Horikoshi apparently has this chapter ends the narrative of Enji’s atonement.

No, it doesn’t mean Enji has finished atoning, just that he has find his way to atone.

Enji is taking responsibility for how his actions caused what Touya did (taking responsibility was something he refused to do before) and now he’ll spend his life protecting his family. It’s a compromise of the narrative Heroes hurt their family to save others. Enji is trying to do both so this narrative is also in a way closed by having a Hero who tries to do both.

Natsuo says responsibility has been taken and punishment dished out…

‘........ Shōjiki sekinin wa hatashita to omou batsu mo uketa to omou… mō ī nja ne ̄ no?’

「........正直責任は果たしたと思う　罰も受けたと思う…もういいんじゃねーの？」

“...Honestly, I think responsibilities have been taken and punishment has been received... isn't it enough now?”

…Enji continues to say he’ll keep on taking responsibility and try to protect his family (and therefore their future). This was what he had assumed was the duty of the Number 1 when he had talked with All Might so that discussion comes to a full circle as well. He faced Touya (aka accepted to dance with him in hell) and will keep on protecting the future of the people and his children by trying to protect them by the scandal/sparks/fiery fallout.

What’s the scandal/sparks/fiery fallout?

Many wanted Enji to be legally punished for the abuse he forced his family to undergo… but that’s not something Japanese society really cares, that’s viewed more like a personal family matter between all the Todorokis… and none of the Todorokis is asking for legal compensation that’s why Horikoshi won’t have Enji be put under trial.

What society blames THE WHOLE TODOROKI FAMILY for (yes, even Shouto even though he hardly had a part in this) is being the family that gave birth to Dabi who was among the ones who went at war with the current society (again, I’ve talked about it in a past post). It’s legally not a crime to have a child who became a criminal… but Japanese society will give you hell for it, hence Enji wants to protect his children from this and take the whole blame on himself.

Horikoshi likely means for THIS to be punishment for Enji’s mistakes (along with the death of ‘Endeavor’ and the damage his body suffered). As Natsuo said THIS WILL BE HELL (at least in theory) so it’s not like Enji is supposedly getting off lightly.

However a foreign reader might miss it because we don’t really get to see the ‘hell’ part. Shouto is in class A who’ll protect him (normally they won’t, Shouto would be ostracized at best, bullied and forced to leave school at worst), Natsuo’s girlfriend is still willing to marry him (normally she would dump him), Fuyumi had to leave her job but she was immediately helped find another one (normally her chances to be hired by people who were to know who she is would be 0) while all of Enji’s sidekicks and Kurumada are there to support him (normally they wouldn’t want to support him) and Hawks is there to support him too (and the story forgot about how Hawks too was involved in a scandal as the fact Hawks is the son of a criminal is a big deal too, even if Hawks’ situation is better than the Todoroki’s). The hell part is a given for Japanese readers so Horikoshi doesn’t feel the need to show it but he shows only that it won’t be only misery.

There’s also something else here. By remarking how things will be fine for the Todorokis because they’ve people supporting them, Horikoshi clearly means to underline the importance of having people supporting others. In the story those who had support always managed to handle things in the end no matter how hard they were, so it’s likely this what Horikoshi is stressing.

Two words about Nagant and La Brava and Gentle.

As I’ve said in a past post, contributing to the fight against AFO was going to be the way for Villains to get forgiven for their crimes. It’s a recurring trope in manga and it works in real life too so I’m not surprised Horikoshi presents them as they’re all pardoned.

The only downside I see in this is that by representing Nagant as okay to stay in prison he forgets how he represented Tartarus as a place where violation of the human rights was an okay thing. Yeah, his idea is probably she was moved and placed in a better prison but still, the narrative has kind of washed away how Tartarus was terrible in more than one situation (prisoners like Stains were first shown to be kept tied all the time but when there’s the escape they’re all free and La Brava said being put in jail was beneficial for Gentle).

Horikoshi clearly let everyone cover up how the Commission jailed Nagant for the wrong crime and it’s not presented as something bad. Revealing it is avoided because it would create chaos and distrust again so the story now only place Hawks, a person who means well, in charge of the commission and this is all the insurance the Japanese audience need to know things from now on will go on well.

It’s possible the idea is also Hawks’ narrative has ended. He lost his Quirk which in a way saved him as it was due to it the Commission took him away from his mother but also it was due to it he became the Commission’s lapdog and now he sits at the top of the commission. He’s basically free and can use the Commission’s power to make a better world. As I said it seems Horikoshi cut short the whole scandal part which regarded Hawks to close his narrative in a positive light.

In a way it almost seems there’s a clash in how the Todoroki family narrative involves the scandal being still alive while the Hawks narrative just let it go. In real life society would probably still give Hawks hell because in Japan you’re just not supposed to have a relative who’s a criminal.

In the story though, while the Todoroki family was held accountable for what happened with Touya (Touya was stated to be the Todoroki’s family sin and hence Shouto had to deal with it), Hawks wasn’t hold accountable for what happened with his parents so Horikoshi gave him a free pass thinking his readers wouldn’t mind (just to make clear I DON’T HOLD HAWKS ACCOUNTABLE FOR THE FACT HIS FATHER WAS A CRIMINAL… but Japanese society often thinks differently).

Hawks is even missing the cut Himiko gave him on his cheek as it apparently left no scarring (or Horikoshi forgot it).

So this might be the last we see of him… unless Horikoshi is going to address him a little more due to the Hawks/Jin/Himiko narrative. Will he be involved in sparing a Villain’s life instead than urging Heroes to kill them or killing them himself? We’ll see. I’m not taking him wanting to get Nagant out of jail as an answer to this as he was supportive of Nagant previously as well. Long story short it’s possible we’ll see more of Hawks but it’s also possible that’s all we need to see.

Lastly, the scene with Shūichi at Central Hospital is clearly meant to imply the next chapter will address his narrative.

We know Midoriya was meant to bring to him Tomura’s last words. Shōji might drop a visit as well to talk about Heteromorphs and ways to cope about discrimination or he might want to talk about the future of Heteromorphs. On another note, Horikoshi might remember in his world building he has decided who carries more than one Quirk, unless it’s All for One, will have a shorter lifespan (remember Hikage?) so he might be planning to tell us Shūichi, who now has three, will soon die of old age. Killing him too like it was done for Tomura, like it will be done for Touya and, possibly, like it was done for Himiko (unless they saved her) is ergonomic as it spares Horikoshi from telling us Shūichi will be jailed and sentenced to death to give us a tamer ‘he accepted 2 Quirks from AFO and now he faces the unavoidable consequences’. Not that it makes me happy but we’ll see.

So here ends how I think Horikoshi wanted us to read this chapter. I’m not Japanese, I might be wrong as I might have missed some cultural clues but I like to hope I was, at least, close enough. I think for Japanese readers it will be an emotional and fulfilling chapters and they’re probably going to enjoy it a lot.

Watsonian commentary:

So as I expected the Todoroki family is gone to see Touya. This seems the first time they see him, but since he seems to be in some sort of Villain hospital it’s possible it took time for them before they were being allowed to see him. That or for a while Touya was in coma or something like that because yes, some of the Todorokis might not have been up to see him immediately after the fight but some others weren’t so bad.

Of course there’s the possibility they preferred to wait for everyone before going there but I prefer to think they either had to wait to be legally allowed or that it was Touya who previously couldn’t see anyone.

Touya is in some sort of contraption… but the most it’s doing is keeping him alive a little longer as we’re told he’s slowly dying. This tube in which he’s put in is more like a coffin than the one in which Tomura was put in and it can be conveniently placed horizontal and vertical. To allow Touya to talk with the others they put him in an horizontal position. It’s worth to mention the room Touya is in seems dark and, anyway, the others can’t be in the same room as him, they see him through a glass.

The family is composed and calm despite being told Touya is about to die, Touya, seeing them there is sarcastic, pointing out he’s not a tourist attraction. He’s keeping distance from them, even though they all came to see him during the war and now, his words point out how he doesn’t seem to believe they came there for him, that if they were to be there it would be because they thought to find some ‘amusement’ in seeing a tourist attraction.

It’s a jab meant to hurt, as they never looked at him before and the little they did previously came too late… but it’s also possibly a hidden plea to point him wrong. Touya wants to be seen.

Enji fundamentally tells him he succeeded in killing ‘Endeavor’ and in having flames that are way hotter than his own.

Touya insists it’s too late, that Enji is playing nice now when it’s all over and that he’s being a coward.

While Enji agrees with him, now he keeps on staring at him and takes responsibility again. Midoriya has said Touya wasn’t Endeavor so Enji couldn’t be blamed for his actions but Enji takes blame for them anyway.

He says something interesting here.

‘Dare ga nanto iou to........ Omae no honō (netsu) wa ore no HELLFLAME da’

「誰が何と言おうと........　おまえの炎（ねつ）は俺の『ヘルフレイム』だ」

“Whatever people try to say… Your flames (read: heat/rage/mania/madness/passion) are my Hellflame.”

This seems a nice way to also call back how Touya said that the fire inside him was lighted by Enji and wouldn’t go away… as well as a nice tie with how Touya thought he was in hell and invited Enji to join him. Enji’s rage/madness was passed down to Touya, burned inside him and became Touya’s rage/madness. Enji is no more telling him to just forget and move over, he’s accepting Touya couldn’t.

We see Touya’s eyes squeezing a little, even if he’ll hardly talk through this chat and we hardly can see clearly his emotions his eyes tell a story of their own.

Enji acknowledges it’s far too late but promises he’ll spend the rest of the time Touya has talking with him. In short this time he’ll be there for him, he’ll pay him attention. Touya says nothing but his heart speeding up shows he’s affected. Enji encourages the rest of the family to do the same and encourage Touya to tell him whatever he wants, even if he hates him, which is a repeat of what he told him once they managed to stop him. Fuyumi and Rei also say they want to talk with him but Touya closes his eyes.

For once he won’t be looking at his family, though more likely the reason isn’t he doesn’t want to see them but that he’s just keeping his emotions bottled inside.

Natsuo instead says nothing and this is the first time he looks at his brother… though he has an uncertain expression. It seems as if Natsuo hasn’t quite decided what to do with his brother. His last words to Touya were a scolding… but also moved by how Natsuo felt guilty because in the past he didn’t listen Touya.

In the past Natsuo used anger to hide his pain so back then Natsuo probably used it to hide his sense of guilt. In a way he’s similar to Touya and Enji. Now though… he seems uncertain, he probably hadn’t come to term yet with what had happened.

The family is told to leave and return tomorrow. I guess they’ll be allowed free access. Shouto though still wants to ask Touya about his favorite food but, at first, he gets no reply either, Touya’s eyes still close, while Natsuo turns away his face. It’s when the family is about to leave and Touya is lying down in that dark room he finally replies, telling Shouto his favorite food is Soba, which Shouto confirms also being his favorite food.

It’s meaningful Shouto is the only one who got his brother to reply to him in a somewhat normal tone… even though Touya needed to do it once he was kind of hidden by everyone’s sight… or that he did it when he thought everyone was leaving as if to say he didn’t really want that.

That tiny word is Touya accepting to talk with them peacefully, but, more importantly, with Shouto. His family has tried to reach out for him, and, of all of them, he reacted to Shouto’s question. It’s probably also Touya’s way to make peace with them. He had hated Shouto, he had said he wanted him dead but now… he’s starting from him to talk with his family. And the fact they have in common something, their own favorite food, makes everything even more tragic because those two siblings could have gotten along, they had things in common, if they had been given the chance they could have gotten along and loved each other just fine but… now it’s late and they’ve only a short time left.

Touya cries when he hears Shouto, like him, loves Soba, he’s finally able to see his brother not as someone way too different from him for him to connect to Shouto but as someone likes him and this allows him to apologize to Shouto, even if the visual seems to imply Shouto didn’t hear him as it was done when Shouto was already out of the building… or at least that’s the impression I get from the images.

As said before, apologizing is a BIG DEAL in Japan so this matters a lot more than it would in the west.

Once they’re outside what’s probably some sort of Villain hospital, Natsuo says he’s cutting bridges with Enji and won’t see him anymore. By default, this means he won’t see Touya anymore either, as Touya can get visits only for few minutes at day and Enji promised he’ll go there all the days.

Likely it’s not just for all he said in past chapters when he admitted being angry with Enji and feeling bad when he sees him.

Touya is a criminal and his whole family, but especially Endeavor as he’s a public figure and a Hero, is held accountable for this. Touya has made a video for the purpose to make sure society, who would have already normally blamed his family for Touya’s actions, had even more incentives to blame Enji. As Natsuo himself said, what expects them after what Touya has done is hell. Society will hold them accountable as if they had agreed to what Touya did.

Cutting bridges with Enji (and Touya) is a common way for many criminals’ family members to try to escape the social hell that await them.

You might notice Natsuo said:

‘Kanojo to seki iretai-shiki wa agenai shōkai mo shinai.’

「彼女と籍入れたい式は挙げない紹介もしない」

“I want to enter in the family register with my girlfriend, but we won't have a ceremony or introduce each other (families).”

In Japan all the family households (basically defined as married couples and their unmarried children) have a family register, also known as koseki (戸籍). The words Natsuo uses imply he’s registering himself in a Koseki that already exists, not that he and his girlfriend are starting a new Koseki.

Now, from what I could understand, generally you start a new Koseki when you marry or when you become independent… Natsuo isn’t married yet and, although he said he doesn’t want to see Enji again, he didn’t make clear if he wants to become economically independent. It would be difficult as people would be unwilling to hire him and he hadn’t finished university yet (Fuyumi had to leave her job and could find another only because someone supported her).

It’s still possible Natsuo wants to ask for his own Koseki but I think part of what Natsuo want to do is to register himself on his girlfriend’s Koseki so as to take her surname.

Changing Koseki and surname will help him distance himself from the Todoroki. Differently from his mother and sister Natsuo has no facial scars marking him. If he manages to sell himself for someone who’s not a Todoroki he might escape hell.

Natsuo then asks Fuyumi what she plans to do as she had to leave her job. I think he wants to know if she has a plan to escape hell too… but while Fuyumi confirms she has lost her job, she says she has found another thanks to a person who helped her and it’s clear Fuyumi doesn’t plan to cut bridges with her family or Touya. She said she wants to talk with him after all.

Natsuo claims he believes responsibilities have been taken and punishment has been received... asking if this isn't it enough. To Enji it’s not.

He states he’ll be making amends and apologize for his sins for the rest of his life.

‘Okashita tsumi no baishō to shazai o isshō o kakete tsudzukete iku. Mite inakute ī. Kodomo-tachi (read: omae-tachi) ni furikakaru hi no ko o dekiru kagiri ore ga uketomeru, ikinobita imi ga aru to sureba sore dake nanda.’

「犯した罪の賠償と謝罪を一生をかけて続けていく。見ていなくていい。子どもた（おまえたち）ちに降りかかる火の粉をできる限り俺が受け止める、生き延びた意味があるとすればそれだけなんだ。」

“I will continue to make amends and apologize for the sins I committed for the rest of my life. You don't have to watch/look after me. I will take upon me as much of the sparks/damage that will (try to) falls on the children (read: you) as I can, and that's the only meaning of my survival.”

As said before, apologizing is a big deal in Japan and what’s more Enji wants to keep on doing it and making amends and therefore taking responsibility when, previously he had always avoided doing so and pushed responsibility on others. Natsuo remarks again it will be hell but, although Enji agrees with him, he also says he accepted it because he accepted to dance in hell with Touya.

‘Ā DANCE no sasoi o uketande na.’

「ああダンスの誘いを受けたんでな。」

“Yeah, I was invited to the dance.”

He has changed a lot from where he started, to the point even Natsuo, who’s the one sibling who has the lowest opinion of him, acknowledges it.

‘… Hajimeteda yo otō-san no koto kakkoī tte omoeta no.’

「…初めてだよお父さんの事かっこいいって思えたの。」

"...It was the first time I thought my dad was cool."

This sentence from Natsuo means MUCH more than it might seems like as it’s the first time Natsuo refers to Enji as ‘otō-san’ as he previously only used ‘anta’ (“you” in a kind of rude/angry way) or ‘Endeavor’ to talk with him. Now he calls him ‘otō-san’ which you can translate as father/dad, but it’s much more respectful than the ‘oyaji’ Shouto uses.

Basically, even though Natsuo is cutting bridges with him, with this sentence he’s acknowledging Enji as his father for the first time. The first time Natsuo yelled at Enji, Shouto said he wanted to see which kind of father Enji could be. I’ll say the idea is that now he’s the sort of father they can appreciate.

Shouto assures everyone he’ll be fine too as he has the people in class A to support him so he can become the person he wants to be. The Todoroki children leave and we see that Endeavor’s sidekicks as well as Kurumada are there to wait for Enji and Rei. I take that means they’re back together. Enji receives also messages from Hawks, who’s worried for him.

Basically, even though the Todorokis are supposed to be in hell, each of them has people supporting them (Natsuo has his girlfriend, Fuyumi the mother of one of his students, Shouto has class A, Enji and Rei Endeavor’s sidekicks, Kurumada and Hawks) so things will be fine because they’ve people supporting them (in this story who didn’t have people supporting them broke down and ended up a Villain and prey of All for One).

We move to Hawks who’s likely the youngest president of the commission and would like to free Nagant but now, differently from when she escaped, Nagant is all for staying in jail so that she won’t be exploited again. Well, she worked for the Commission and by AFO but… well, the Commission exploited her because they caught her when she was really young… but AFO… he hired her and she said she agreed to work for him because she believed the resulting world would be better. So he used her but I wouldn’t say he exploited her unless the idea is he blackmailed her into agreeing… which it’s possible but wasn’t shown. I’ll be honest, I’m probably losing some sort of clue about Nagant’s narrative post her meeting Midoriya because her actions after meeting him never quite felt that smooth. It’s probably me but, due to this, I’ll leave this part of the story as it is and focus on Shūichi who’s not in a Villain hospital but in Central hospital even though he’s a Villain bedridden and in a poor shape. With three Quirks he might end up dying soon of old age but I don’t know if the story will refresh our mind with this detail.

Shūichi is likely about to meet Midoriya and, possibly, Shōji, maybe with Kōda. I don’t think the ones who followed Shūichi till Central Hospital then changed their mind will drop to say ‘hi’. I do not look forward to this part. Midoriya had to tell him Tomura’s final words, which, I guess, will be sad and emotional.

As I wasn’t a fan of the Central Hospital arc I do hope it’ll be only Midoriya who’ll visit him because I do not look forward to a retake of that arc. I think that arc is another thing that cause a huge cultural clash but, while this chapter still managed to have good point the Central Hospital arc felt even more distant from me and I’ve no wish to resume it. Still, we’ll see.

A not-Japanese person (aka me) commentary:

I’ll refresh everyone’s mind again. This is a commentary done as if I had not the slightest idea of how Japanese culture works and were reading the story SOLELY through the lenses of my culture… and I’ve to say this is one of the chapters in which the cultural clash is more evident and reading it merely through the lenses of my culture brings me really far from Horikoshi’s intended message.

It’s not here to criticize Horikoshi, it’s just food for thoughts that shows how the same scene can be interpreted very differently according to which lenses you use to look at it. If this is not your cup of tea, just don’t read it.

Now… I’ve said how, in Horikoshi’s intention, the first discussion is meant to show that the family LOVES Touya and that they aren’t there for a sense of duty. To Japanese readers I think it works wonderfully. Ironically, if this were a story placed in my country it would have a different effect. Opposite to Japan in my country is a given they would go to see Touya. All that talking about not having to go there (when it would be normal to) seem to drive home the family thinks NO ONE cares about Touya. Yes, Shouto would then set things straight but you’ll get a really different impression than the one the author intended.

The scene with Touya being held in that tube gets even more horrifying as we often would let inmates who’re about to die go back home so that they can die in their home, with their family, especially if they clearly aren’t in the shape to escape. What’s more the family wouldn’t just leave, as Touya is about to die they would want to remain with him even if he just were to sleep.

The Todoroki family is very composed, very calm, they don’t need to show their pain or their love because in a Japanese mind setting just the fact they’re there and want to talk with him proves it… but since here it would be a given we would need it to be more grief stricken or the family comes out as cold.

We don’t have death sentence. The fact that the family isn’t scrambling to try and find a way to keep Touya alive in such a Quirk world (with Garaki indeed saving him from a similar situation and him surviving for 10 years) again feels as if they don’t care about his survival, as if they thinks it’s more convenient if he dies.

So what for a Japanese audience is meant to work as a way to let Touya go, here gives out a very different vibe… we would have needed Touya to die on the battlefield, before medical aid could be carried to him to accept this.

Touya’s initial mockery, his refusal to talk afterward and his last moments with Shouto instead work here too and are emotional enough.

I wouldn’t expect Enji to face legal punishment for what he did to his family not because we consider it a private family affair but because… he should have faced it ages ago. When little Touya started burning himself at the tender age of 3, the family would be put under scrutiny. They couldn’t let him under vigilance. When Shouto was burned, this would worsen. When Touya would be assumed dead there would be for sure legal consequences. If Enji hadn’t faced it back then, my conclusion would be the BNHA world doesn’t care about all this and won’t lift a finger to protect children (never mentioning the time to make a complaint would be expired). If the idea is that Enji covered things up back then, then the characterization would break down when he would admit things, making it bad writing so yeah, I would just expect the BNHA world to be built to not care to punish such abuse… but the story to criticize it by punishing Enji with his physical disabilities.

Continuing on this… yes, I would be in the camp of ‘just an apology isn’t enough’ because in my country saying ‘sorry’ isn’t that big of a deal as in Japan and wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Combined with how Enji isn’t fighting to save Touya’s life nor improve his condition but he’s saying he’s just willing to talk… it feels he’s doing too little.

Natsuo’s narrative would feel concluded even with Touya. Deciding not to see him nor his father again would feel okay, and since we wouldn’t really hold Touya’s siblings accountable as much as in Japan, Enji’s idea he’ll protect them from the scandal wouldn’t feel like the big deal it is in Japan.

The sidekicks’ narrative would feel... weird. Horikoshi showed them as supportive of Enji in previous chapters because he was a great Hero despite his family situation. There was no real criticism for how he handled his family but in such a setting it could have worked because they were focused on the war. Now that the war has ended the fact they all brush away Enji’s past without having a chance to be critical to it (even if only to say ‘you did terrible but now you’re trying to fix it so okay’) would reinforce the idea of a messed up theme in which for people is okay to abuse people. Yeah, I guess we might fill the blanks assuming they confronted him in a scene we didn’t see because they aren’t really important but it still would feel weird.

The same goes for Hawks, who doesn’t plan to reconcile with his abusive parents but never felt discomfort at how it was Enji’s neglect what caused Touya to do what he did, nor showed sympathy for Touya.

I won’t really dig much into why Japan and my country handle this matter differently, because the difference was established long ago, it’s just that we would have kept on expecting that Hawks’ lack of reaction didn’t mean he was okay but merely that the whole thing was being postponed so it would be confusing when, even now, it wouldn’t be addressed at all, while for the Japanese narrative is clear there’s nothing to address.

Now… remember when I said in Horikoshi’s intentions showing us that the Todorokis will be fine because they’ve support is to remark the importance of support and that he doesn’t show the struggle of the Todoroki being in hell because it’s a given for Japanese readers?

Well, since for my culture it wouldn’t be a given, all that would be seen is the Todorokis not having troubles at all… and their life being made even easier because they got so lucky they accidentally met up with people who would support them. The importance of support gets dimmed by the fact the hardship isn’t really shown much but is supposed to be taken as a given (to be fair we see a little of it, but it’s easy to miss it), and them having support as well just make things seem even easier for them.

Something else worth mentioning about Hawks is that for us the scandal wouldn’t be so much that he was the son of a criminal and hid it, but that he killed Twice… and the press probably even recorded that he said to kill the Twices again. The problem is… here the police is not really allowed to use lethal force (I’ll go for Heroes paralleling the police) unless it’s a life or death situation.

In Japan it’s exceedingly rare the police will use lethal force but… they can do it in the event that a person who is actually in the act of committing, or is suspected on sufficient grounds of having committed, a violent and dangerous crime which is subject to the death penalty or life imprisonment does so much as TRY TO ESCAPE. Bubaigawara was escaping yes, but he was a dangerous criminal and Hawks said he had no choices and so it makes it fine. So basically for Horikoshi this narrative was likely kind of closed with Hawks’ press conference and him apologizing for not managing to find a better way to handle things. It makes it to the news because it’s supposed to be rare… but not because it’s wrong.

Yes, generally the police is investigated if they kill someone but since the police in BNHA was aware of which danger Twice represented it’s no surprise they shrugged it off. And Hawks apologized which, as said before, is a big deal in Japan so to Japanese fans this narrative is, by now, long closed. The same instead wouldn’t work for people of my country.

Nagant’s narrative feels weird to say the least as not only she can’t decide to remain in jail when she’s told she’s allowed to get out but I would expect the situation to be investigated as she ended up in jail for a crime she didn’t commit instead than the one she did. Of course this would means to put the commission under investigation as well instead it seems like all is being hushed which I would totally take for corrupt government. Hawks being a person who means well wouldn’t be reassuring because he’s covering previous crimes.

So that is. This would be my reaction if I were to analyze BNHA from the lenses of my country’s culture. As you can see it would give off a very different vibe because since we’re different for us things would need to go differently to get the same message.

THIS IS NOT A COMPLAINT TOWARD THE STORY HORIKOSHI WROTE.

It’s just accepting if Horikoshi makes a story that’s strongly tied to a specific culture (his own Japanese one) people from a different culture who might not be aware of how things work in Japan, will perceive what he says differently. Which is fair, many of us will be handed off the manga without additional cultural notes that help us to understand it the way the author wanted us to understand it. Some stories aren’t meant to work in the same way through all around the world and, as a result, this might cause them to feel ‘bad writing’ in some countries just because the message they want to deliver ends up not being understandable by everyone.

I still think it’s worth to read BNHA even though I just can’t get the same warm feelings Japanese readers get from this ending. I like to think I understand what Horikoshi is trying to deliver (I might be wrong) but it feels more like cold understanding after rationalizing things than an immediate emotional response. It’s very interesting for my curious mind so again I don’t regret in the slightest reading it but… it’s not equally emotionally satisfying. But well, that’s me, if you managed to find it working perfectly well than that’s great!

#boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Fuyumi #Todoroki Rei #bnha ramblings #BNHA Chapter Ramblings #bnha meta

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kaz-oooo · 11 months ago

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I’ve already done music recommendations so, you can check out these posts (playlists and list of artists) if you’re looking for that specifically. But Wilbur made a lot of content over the years and idk, i figured I’d make a a list of recommendations for similar content to fill that void as well :)

Minecraft SMP’s (specifically DSMP)

The same SMP’s but other POV’s — I’ll just start with this cos it’s the most iffy. There’s plenty of enjoyment to be had with these fandoms still, and I personally don’t think we need to let the actions of a couple shitty guys ruin the silly Minecraft roleplay we all enjoy. That said, if you aren’t comfy watching these anymore that’s perfectly valid as well, especially since Wilbur’s character will be lurking around in the background of plenty of these. But yeah, we can also uplift other creators by watching the fun stories they made, especially those who got buried by bigger creators at the time. So Dream SMP, QSMP, Origins SMP, SMP earth, SMPlive all have content you can enjoy.

Different, completely unrelated SMP’s — hermitcraft, the life series, empires SMP (shubble was involved in this one, I’m planning on watching her POV when I find some time) etc. I’ve had plenty of people recommend these to me before, from what I’ve seen they’re very enjoyable :)

Hamilton — not even joking, if you enjoyed the L’manberg era of DSMP and you didn’t watch Hamilton, I’d heartily recommend it. Great music, lots of politics but all in a fun and silly way, also tragic endings!

Editor Wilbur ARG (I’m a massive ARG fan so I have tonnes of recommendations here)

Generation Loss — Ranboo’s very awesome Horror project that they’ve been working very hard on!!! Ranboo’s been teasing new content lately as well so that’s exciting

Analog horror series — Local 58, Gemini Home Entertainment, Mandela Catalog, Kane Pixel’s Backrooms videos, etc. All very good and spooky videos, definetely an inspiration for Gen Loss, and I know Wilbur enjoyed this content as well (though the editor Wilbur arg predates a lot of this genre) those are some of the biggest on YouTube atm, and some of my personal favourites, but there’s plenty more to find (I recommend channels like Nightmind and Nexpo who do analysis videos for all this horror and ARG stuff if you wanna find more)

Marble Hornets — gets its own category! One of the original analog horror genres (predated the genre actually) it’s basically one of the biggest and most comprehensive Slenderman series out there. There’s a LOT of content here and lots of lore and mystery (though a lot of the game clues have been lost to time) (Jack Manifold also reacted to this on stream, it was very chill and good fun)

Horror podcasts — Magnus Archives and Magnus Protocol, Malevolent and Archive 81 are some of my favourites, but there’s plenty more out there to find and enjoy :). Also very spooky with lots of mystery to involved, the Magnus Protocol is very new as well so great time to get into that!

Just Chatting / Geoguessr / other chill content

Geoguessr streamers / YouTubers — honestly I genuinely didn’t watch much geoguessr content outside of Wilbur’s streams so, I don’t have many recommendations here. I know Eret has been doing geoguessr streams lately and their content is very good and chill. Jacksuckatlife plays as well and last I watched he was fairly good at it (like similar skill level to Wilbur), otherwise Rainbolt is a geoguessr legend, he terrifies me a little ngl.

Other streamers — I think the thing with the just chatting streams is that we watch for *that specific streamer’s* personality. It’s hard to really make recommendations other than just saying go watch more of the streamers you enjoy. Personally I enjoy Phil’s hardcore streams, and Sneegsnag’s Crime Time the most, but there’s plenty of other people both in this MCYT space and outside of it that you’ll probably enjoy :)

Sorry boys (unlike horror I don’t watch much comedy so, sorry, this’ll be lacking)

Just Roll With It — Charlie Slimecicle’s DND podcast. I’ve only listened to a little bit of this but it’s really good and REALLY silly (oh, and emotional sometimes, gotta have a bit of angst y’know) Wilbur was a guest on a couple of episodes, but you can always skip past those if you want.

Tommy’s videos — so Wilbur features in a lot of the early vlogs and *minecraft but* videos, but Tommy’s content has always been good fun, his recent stuff is excellent as well! He’s been doing a lot of comedy content lately, specifically a live show so definitely check that out if you want :)

Smosh pit — not something I’ve watched a lot of, but I’ve seen clips of their try not to laugh videos and they’re definitely on par with the bat shit improv you get from Sorry Boys.

Game changer — again, not something I’ve watched much, mostly consumed through osmosis, but the show is funny, the cast is always silly and it’s a lot of fun all round

Whatever else Sorry Boys make after this — judging by some of the responses to Wilbur’s “statement” I think it’s fair to assume if Sorry Boys do continue making content Wilbur will be cut from the group. Of course don’t feel obligated to stick around if you don’t want to, but Wilbur won’t be compensated if he’s kicked and the rest of the guys are still fun :)

YLYL and similar goofy stuff

Just… other streamers again — Jack Manifold does YLYL streams with his friends. James Marriott does a lot of reaction videos as well, sometimes YLYL, sometimes reacting to content his viewers send in (like TikTok’s and break up texts), those are my favourites atm.

YouTubers — that niche between video essay and reaction content, people like Danny Gonzales, Drew Gooden, Kurtis Conner, Pinely, all good fun YouTube channels that make good, silly, and easy to consume content.

Other gaming streamers and YouTubers — Slimecicle, Ranboo, Games Grumps, RT games, and SneegSnag all play a wide variety of games, they’re all relatively chill but none of them take the games all that seriously either so it’s fun and goofy as well :)

And of course Fanfiction!!!

I might be a little bias here cos I write myself but fic is created by and for fans and it exists to give you even *more* content about the stories you love, whether it be reimagining canon events or just dumping your favourite characters into a silly au.

I know a lot of authors (myself included) are feeling super conflicted and weird about writing Wilbur in the future. Plenty of authors have been moving onto new fandoms so if you find something you enjoy make sure you check out the author’s other work and who knows, maybe you’ll find some cool new fandoms that way!

And do the same for artists and other creators, or even go check out some of your mutuals fandoms, you guys might have more in common than you originally thought!

#wilbur soot #dsmp #the sorry boys #editor wilbur arg

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 4 months ago

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Between the Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 12: Loss

Warning: This chapter contains a description of graphic domestic violence, mentions of blood. Reader Discretion is extremely advised. This is the first time I have ever written something like this, I usually limit myself to only sex scenes and mild domestic violence in arguments but I was going back and forth with myself in posting this but I ultimately decided this was the direction I wanted to go with in this story.

The Terror Twin's locker room hummed with the faint sound of an air conditioner, but Rhea Ripley’s focus was on the mess of outfits scattered across the bench. Black leather, studs, and metal chains stared back at her, but no inspiration struck. She stood frozen, torn between choices that went beyond what she’d wear tonight. Across the room, Damian Priest was lacing up his boots, preparing in his usual laid-back manner.

"Any clue what you’re going with tonight?" Damian asked, his tone light but his eyes concerned as they flicked toward her.

Rhea gave a half-hearted shrug. "Not really," she muttered, her voice distant. "Does it even matter?"

Before Damian could answer, there was a knock at the door. His eyes met Rhea’s briefly, a silent question passing between them.

Damian stood and opened the door to reveal Hunter, his presence always carrying weight but his expression softer than usual. He nodded at Damian.

"Can I have a word with Rhea?"

Damian hesitated, glancing back at Rhea, but he gave a small nod, pulling on his jacket. "I’ll be back later." He shot her a final look, one filled with silent concern, before stepping out and leaving her alone with Hunter.

The door clicked shut, leaving the tension in the room thick as Hunter stepped inside, his hands on his hips as he leaned slightly against one of the lockers. "How are you holding up, Rhea?" His voice was low but direct.

Rhea let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the gear in front of her. "Depends," she said, glancing up at him with uncertainty. "What did you hear?"

Hunter sighed, running a hand over his beard as he studied her. "Honestly nothing, no one has said anything since I left you two Saturday."

She hesitated, her stomach twisting in knots. She had been compartmentalizing the chaos of her personal life to stay focused.

"It’s… a mess," she admitted, her voice trembling with the weight of the confession. "I’m leaving Matt. It’s over. And Jey—" She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. "Jey’s wife has already left him too."

Hunter’s brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained neutral. "You’re sure about this? That you want to leave Matt?"

Rhea’s heart raced, but she nodded. "I don’t have a choice anymore. We are in love." She paused, taking in the look on Hunter’s face.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in judgment but in deep thought. "It’s a big decision, Rhea. I just want to make sure you’re not rushing into this because of the pregnancy."

Rhea met his gaze, her voice firmer now. "I’m not. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit and Jey, well…" She trailed off, unsure how to explain the complexities of her relationship with Jey.

Hunter leaned forward slightly, softening his tone. "You know this lifestyle better than anyone. It’s hard. The road, the long hours, being in the public eye. It pushes people to their limits. I’m not going to tell you what’s right or wrong here, but you’ve got to be sure—because whatever happens with Jey, it’s going to get more complicated before it gets easier."

Rhea felt the truth of his words settle over her. "I know," she said quietly, the weight of the situation pressing on her chest. "But I can’t keep living two lives."

Hunter let that sit for a moment before shifting the conversation. "And the pregnancy? What are you thinking there?"

Rhea closed her eyes for a second, feeling the tightness in her throat return. "I don’t know," she admitted, the vulnerability in her voice evident. "One moment I think I’m ready, and the next, I can’t even imagine it. I’m just… scared."

Hunter cut her off gently. "Hey, listen. You don’t have to make a decision today. I thought more about it and 48 hours is not enough." His voice was calming, a steadying force amidst the chaos swirling in her mind. "Focus on the show tonight and we will talk more when you are ready."

Rhea nodded, trying to absorb his words. She had been so consumed by the personal drama that she had forgotten what used to give her stability—her work. The ring.

"Liv’s going to pull back tonight," Hunter continued, bringing her focus back. "I’ve already talked to her."

Fear spiked in Rhea’s chest. "Did you tell her? About the pregnancy?"

Hunter shook his head. "No. She doesn’t know anything except to take it easy on you. You’re good. No one else needs to know what’s going on unless you want them to."

Rhea let out a sigh of relief. For a second, she’d feared her secret might be out, that the walls of her life were crumbling faster than she could rebuild them. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I don’t know what I’d do if this got out."

Hunter looked at her with a seriousness that only he could carry. "You’ve got to keep it together, Rhea. I know it’s hard, but right now, you’ve got to act like nothing’s changed. Especially with Jey. You go public with that, and it’ll blow everything up—for you, for him. And I can’t let that happen. Not right now."

Rhea swallowed the lump in her throat. "I get it. But… is there any chance? Could we ever go public?"

Hunter’s expression softened, though his answer didn’t. "Not now. You and Jey need to focus on your careers. The minute this gets out, it’ll become a distraction—both for you in the ring and for the company. People will talk, and they’ll keep talking, and you’ll lose control of your own story. Trust me on this."

Rhea bit her lip, frustrated but knowing he was right. "So I just… pretend everything’s fine?"

Hunter nodded slowly. "For now, yeah. You’re strong, Rhea. You can handle this. But you’ve got to be smart. This is bigger than just you and Jey."

Silence fell between them for a moment, the gravity of it all sinking in. Rhea knew the truth of what he was saying, even if she hated it. She had no choice but to keep playing her part.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Rhea asked.

“Did Finn and them not go over it with you?” Hunter asked.

“They went over Dom’s match with Damian but I don’t know about me if you wanted promos.” Rhea replied

“Oh I forgot to tell them that I am so sorry. You’ll have a promo with Finn and Jey shows up to your defense. Do act mildly flirtatious. You’ll also have a small promo with Damian. Damian will have his match with Dom. Did they go over the tackle with Liv and you?” Rhea nodded.

“We were going to have Finn jump on both of you two but it is way risky so just take a bump from Liv and a few kicks and that’s it. We will have Jey to save you guys but Jey has his thing with Bron so no saving this time…” Rhea agreed.

Before Hunter turned to leave, Rhea spoke again, her voice softer now, more personal. "Hunter, before you go… I know this is random, but… what was Joanie like?"

The question hung in the air for a beat. Hunter’s face softened, a faraway look entering his eyes as he smiled slightly. "She was… incredible," he said quietly. "Tough as hell, but she had this way of making everyone around her feel seen, like they mattered. No one could light up a room like her." He paused, the memories clearly filling him. "She was loyal, fierce… and kind in a way you don’t see much in this business. I think you two would’ve gotten along."

Rhea felt a warmth at his words, the admiration clear in his voice. "I wish I could’ve met her."

Hunter offered her a small smile, filled with unspoken emotion. "She would’ve liked you, Rhea. A lot."

With that, he gave a final nod and left the room, leaving Rhea alone with her thoughts and the lingering weight of his words. As the door clicked shut behind him, she stood for a moment, staring at her gear, her mind swirling with everything left unsaid.

The show was in two hours. She had to put everything aside and be who the world expected her to be. But right now, that felt like the hardest thing in the world.

Jey stared at his reflection in the locker room mirror, half-dressed and restless. His pink, blue and white cropped YEET shirt clung loosely to his chest covered by a black hoodie, and his black Nike shorts hung comfortably from his hips. But none of it felt right. It wasn’t the gear—it was something else.

It had been four hours since he’d last seen her. Four long hours, and all he could think about was Rhea. They’d spent almost nearly the whole week together—him, her, and Damian, moving like a tight unit through the chaos of this thing called life. But even with all that time, it didn’t feel like enough. He couldn’t shake the need to be near her, to see her, to feel the pull between them.

It wasn’t just because she was carrying his child, though that bond was undeniable. There was something deeper growing inside him, something unspoken. She was the woman who had changed everything for him, and though he hadn’t said it out loud, the thought crossed his mind more and more lately: She’s going to be my wife someday.

That thought made him pause, his hands still on the zipper of his hoodie. He hadn’t meant to think it, but there it was, slipping into his head without permission. He shook it off, focusing on the moment. He knew he wasn’t supposed to see her right now, but the pull was too strong to ignore. He zipped his hoodie halfway up, threw the hood over his head, and headed out into the hallway.

His feet moved almost automatically, carrying him through the buzzing backstage area. He passed by Sami Zayn, Bronson (Bron Breakker), Drew McIntyre, and even Phil (CM Punk), exchanging quick greetings and fist bumps, but his mind wasn’t on any of it. He wasn’t here for them.

Finally, the noise of the arena faded into the background as he found himself on the quieter side of the building. His steps slowed when he reached the door to the Terror Twins’ locker room, his heart thudding a little faster. He knew they had to be careful, that it wasn’t smart for him to be here, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see her.

He knocked lightly, almost hesitantly, and after a moment, the door opened a crack. Rhea’s face appeared, her eyes wide with surprise before softening. Without a word, she grabbed his hoodie and pulled him inside, quickly shutting the door behind them.

The room was dimly lit, her clothes scattered across the floor from trying to pick an outfit for tonight, and it was just the two of them, alone in the quiet. The tension between them was thick, a magnetic pull that neither of them could ignore. Jey’s pulse raced, the space between them too small and too big all at once.

“Jey, what are you doing here?” Rhea whispered, but there was no anger in her voice—only curious?

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

She let out a soft sigh, her hand still gripping the front of his hoodie. “We were all just together, you know? Four hours ago.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice now, even as her eyes searched his, the same tension between them simmering just beneath the surface.

“I know,” Jey replied, stepping closer, his hand coming to rest gently on her waist. “But I couldn’t help it. You get it, right?”

Her expression softened even more, her hand slipping up to rest against his chest. “Yeah. I get it but we still have our jobs to do… I mean how else are we going to afford baby clothes?" She said jokingly and Jey smiled. He gave her a quick kiss as his hand rested on her stomach.

He thought about everything—about the baby, the future, how deeply tied he already felt to her. And for a brief second, the thought flashed through his mind again: Maybe one day, she’ll be my wife. But he didn’t say it. It wasn’t time for that yet, even if the feeling was there, growing quietly inside him.

“Hey what’s with the pink shirt?” Rhea said.

“Oh you like it?” Jey said as he unzipped his hoodie. “Couldn’t do purple?” Rhea asked. “Didn’t wanna associate myself with The Judgement Day… wanted to associate myself with the Terror Twins.” He grinned.

“Prove your alliance Mr. Uso..” She said giving him a seductive smirk.

Before he could say anything more, there was a knock at the door. Both of them froze, eyes widening as the sound cut through the moment.

Jey stepped back, instinctively moving toward the shadows of the room, ready to slip away. But before he could, the door opened a crack—and there stood Damian, his broad frame filling the doorway. He took one look at the dark shadows Jey tried to slip away but Damian laughed.

“Man, we were all just together four hours ago, and you can’t keep off her? Also try changing your shoes, white is too bright.” Damian chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. His tone was playful, but there was a warmth in his eyes—understanding, maybe. He wasn’t surprised. He’d seen the way things had changed between them.

Jey grinned sheepishly, his hand dropping from Rhea’s waist, but he didn’t move further away. “What can I say? I’m weak.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are ridiculous.”

Damian let out a laugh and shook his head. “You know we’ve got a show to get ready for, right? You’ve got, what, another two hours before we are suppose to be putting in work?”

Jey shrugged. “Plenty of time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Damian said, still smiling. “Just don’t get caught. I don’t wanna have to explain why you two were hiding out in here.”

As Damian turned to leave, he paused at the door and glanced back at them. “Oh, and Jey? If you’re this whipped already, I can’t wait to see what happens when the baby gets here.”

Jey laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, man. Me neither.”

Damian gave them one last smirk before stepping out and closing the door behind him, leaving Jey and Rhea alone once more.

Rhea sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You seriously have to go, Hunter already said we have to keep everything under wraps still.”

“I know,” he said softly, stepping closer again. “But it’s hard. You know that.”

Her hand rested on his chest again, and she nodded.

They stood there for a moment, the air between them still charged, but there was something else now. Something quieter, more certain. Jey knew they were in the thick of it right now, with everything that came with being who they were in this business. But in the back of his mind, the thought lingered—one day, she’ll be my wife.

They just had to get through this first…

RAW had finally come to an end, and the crowd had filtered out of the arena. In the now-quiet Terror Twins’ locker room, Jey sat on a bench, already packed and waiting, while Damian leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone. Rhea was still in the shower, and though they had been together all week, Jey couldn’t help but think about her. No matter how much time they spent together, it was never enough. She was the mother of his child, and more than that, the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

The door to the showers opened, and Rhea walked out, fresh from the shower, her hair still damp and hidden under a black beanie. She wore an oversized hoodie and leggings, her body language relaxed but tired from the night’s events. She looked over at Jey and Damian, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"You guys ready?" she asked, her tone casual but carrying that underlying connection she shared with Jey.

"Yeah, I got our bags," Jey replied, standing up and adjusting the strap of her duffel over his shoulder.

Damian chuckled as he moved to open the door. "Almost all week we were all together, and now you two are acting like you haven’t seen each other in days." His voice was teasing but warm, a bit of ribbing among friends.

Rhea shook her head, a playful smile on her face. "Can’t help it," she shot back lightly, her eyes flicking toward Jey for just a second longer than necessary.

Jey smirked but said nothing, Damian peeked his head out and saw the exit, one by one they made it out into the hall as they made their way toward the exit. The group moved quickly, avoiding any lingering crew or fans. Outside, the cold night air bit at their skin as they stepped toward the black SUV waiting at the curb. Kayden, already sitting inside, waved quickly at them through the window. Damian held the door open as Rhea climbed into the car first, sliding in next to Kayden.

Jey followed, taking a seat across from Rhea while Damian hopped in beside him. Once everyone was settled, the driver pulled away, heading toward the airport. The car was silent, not because there was nothing to say, but because they all knew better. In their line of work, privacy was paramount, especially for Jey and Rhea. Too many eyes, too many chances for a slip-up. Even in the back of the SUV, they knew not to speak too freely.

Kayden leaned back in her seat, scrolling through her phone, while Damian rested his head against the window, eyes half-closed. Rhea sat next to Kayden, her body turned slightly toward the window, while Jey sat quietly across from them, his gaze occasionally flicking toward Rhea. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken words, but they’d gotten used to this routine. It was what they had to do, at least in public.

The SUV pulled up to the airport after what felt like an unusually long ride, and the group began piling out of the car. Jey grabbed their bags, handing Rhea’s over as they stood at the curb, the cold air hitting them once again. Kayden and Damian moved ahead, leading the way inside the terminal.

They walked together through the airport, making their way past crowds of travelers and fans, all while keeping things casual and low-key. When they reached a quieter part of the terminal, near the security checkpoint, Damian stopped and turned to Jey and Rhea.

“This is where we split,” he said, giving Jey a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll text you guys the Airbnb address once we get there.”

Kayden, standing beside Damian, gave Rhea a quick hug. "Safe flight, okay?"

Rhea nodded, returning the hug. "You too. Let us know when you land."

With that, Damian and Kayden headed off toward their gate, leaving Jey and Rhea standing together in the bustling terminal. It was quieter here, but still too public for them to let their guard down. They stood a few feet apart, the distance feeling heavier now that they were alone.

“I’ll text you when I land,” Rhea said, her voice soft, almost drowned out by the sounds of the airport around them.

Jey nodded, his gaze steady on her. “Yeah, do that. I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

They couldn’t hug, couldn’t kiss, not here. It was too risky. But they both knew the routine by now, and though it was never easy, they had learned how to navigate it. The connection between them, unspoken but always present, made the distance harder. Still, they had to play their parts.

"I’ll see you soon, I love you Rhea." Jey said, his voice low but filled with meaning.

Rhea gave him a small smile, the kind only he understood. "I love you too Jey. See you soon."

Without another word, they turned and headed in separate directions, each moving toward their own gate. As they walked away from each other, the weight of their love hung between them, but they both knew it was only temporary.

Rhea’s plane touched down in Orlando just past five in the morning. The time zone change did little to mask the exhaustion that weighed on her. After collecting her bags from the carousel, she hailed an Uber, the early morning chill biting at her as she waited. She knew that Matt would be awake, despite the early hour; he’d sent her a “Good morning” message that she hadn’t yet responded to. She wrestled with her thoughts during the ride, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and resolve. The closer she got to home, the more she felt the weight of what she was about to do—telling Matt she no longer loved him, without revealing the affair or the pregnancy.

The Uber pulled up to her house, and Rhea paid the driver before stepping out into the quiet, pre-dawn air. As she approached her front door, the familiar, comforting sight of her dogs greeted her. They whined softly, tail-wagging, but they knew better than to bark. She quickly petted them, their warm bodies a brief comfort. Rhea let them out through the sliding glass door to the backyard, followed by her cat, who relished the chance to roam outside.

She closed the sliding door and walked through the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest. The house felt oddly still as she approached the kitchen, where Matt was sitting at the breakfast table. He looked up, a look of surprise flashing across his face as he saw her.

“Rhea!” he exclaimed, getting up to greet her. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss. Rhea forced herself to kiss him back, her heart sinking with each second.

“Matt, sit down,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. Matt looked puzzled but complied, taking a seat at the table. He glanced at her with a mix of curiosity and concern, still holding the remnants of his breakfast.

“Everything okay? You look tired,” he said, his tone gentle, though there was a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Rhea took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She sat down opposite him, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably. Her heart raced as she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Matt, I need to talk to you.”

Matt’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “What’s going on?”

Another long pause followed. Rhea struggled with her words, the weight of what she was about to say almost too much to bear. “I… I’ve fallen out of love with you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Matt sat there, stunned. Then, his face twisted into a look of disbelief and anger.

“What are you talking about? You can’t just drop that on me!” he shouted, his voice rising. “What the hell is this about?”

Matt’s outburst quickly escalated. He started accusing Rhea of having an affair with Damian, his voice laced with rage. “Is it Damian? Are you cheating on me with him?”

The room seemed to spin as Matt’s anger reached a boiling point. He began throwing glasses from the table, the shattering sound a violent punctuation to his fury. He punched the wall, leaving a dent and a visible crack.

Rhea, not accustomed to confrontations or yelling, felt herself shrinking under the intensity of the situation. Her voice wavered as she tried to make herself heard. “It isn’t Damian… it’s Joshua.”

The name only seemed to ignite Matt’s rage further. He grabbed Rhea by her arms, shaking her violently. His face was a mask of uncontrollable fury. “JEY FUCKING USO?” he roared. “You’re leaving me for Jey Uso?”

The situation spiraled into chaos. Matt’s anger turned increasingly violent. He shoved Rhea, causing her to stumble, and continued to hurl objects around the kitchen. Rhea’s pleas for calm were drowned out by his shouting and the crashing of broken dishes.

The confrontation became a blur of fear and pain for Rhea. She tried to stay out of Matt’s way, but his rage was all-consuming. His fists pummeled the walls, and every word from his mouth was an accusation or a threat.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Rhea finally managed to say, her voice breaking. “But I couldn’t keep living a lie.”

Matt’s anger showed no sign of subsiding. He continued to scream and destroy, the force of his emotions causing damage both physical and emotional. Rhea backed away, feeling utterly helpless as the violent scene unfolded before her.

Rhea’s attempt to regain her composure was cut short as Matt, consumed by rage, pushed her violently against the wall. She stumbled, her back slamming into the hard surface, the impact causing a sharp pain to shoot through her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at Matt, his face twisted in a mixture of hurt and fury.

“How could you do this to me?” Matt roared, his voice echoing through the now-chaotic kitchen. His anger was palpable, and every word was a jagged knife to Rhea’s already shattered emotions.

She tried to rise, her limbs shaky, but Matt’s anger knew no bounds. “Show me how tough you are, then! Show me Rhea Bloody Fucking Ripley!” he taunted, his eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity. Before Rhea could react, Matt’s fist flew toward her, connecting with her cheek. The force of the blow sent her crashing to the floor, pain exploding through her head and face.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lay on the ground, fear gripping her heart like a vice. She had never seen him like this—his rage was feral, uncontrollable. Matt’s next move was swift and brutal. He kicked her in the stomach, the pain a sharp, burning sensation that made her cry out. Her mind raced with the thought of her baby, the life growing inside her that was now at risk because of Matt’s violence. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of her unborn child made it worse.

“Please, stop!” Rhea begged, her voice breaking between sobs. “Matt, please stop!”

But Matt’s fury was unrelenting. He continued to kick her, each blow adding to the agony. Rhea could barely defend herself, her body trembling and her cries growing more desperate. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Matt’s rage showed no signs of abating.

Matt then grabbed her by her hair, yanking her roughly from the floor. Rhea felt her scalp sting as strands of hair were forcibly pulled out. She cried out in pain, but Matt’s anger was focused solely on his own sense of betrayal. He dragged her across the house, her feet scraping against the floor, the pain adding to her already overwhelmed senses.

When they reached the front door, Matt’s rage reached a new level. He threw Rhea out of the house with a final, brutal shove. She tumbled down the steps, the cold concrete biting into her already bruised and battered body. Her bags were thrown at her, landing with a thud beside her as she lay in a heap on the ground.

Matt’s face was a mask of pure rage as he slammed the door shut behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place was a final, definitive end to the confrontation. Rhea lay on the steps, her body aching and her spirit crushed. She reached for her bags, struggling to gather them as tears mixed with the grime of the front steps.

From inside, Matt’s angry shouts and the sound of furniture being thrown around were muffled by the door, but the intensity of his rage was still palpable. Rhea, now alone in the early morning cold, felt a deep, visceral fear and sadness. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of pain, regret, and concern for her unborn child.

She managed to pull herself together enough to stand, though every movement was a struggle. The weight of her situation pressed down on her as she took a shaky step away from the house. Her wedding ring, which Matt had grabbed and put in his pocket, was now a painful reminder of the life she was leaving behind. Rhea took a deep breath, forcing herself to move forward despite the overwhelming fear and hurt.

The night air was cold and unforgiving as Rhea made her way down the walkway and away from the house. Each step was a reminder of the pain she’d just endured and the uncertain road ahead. She was alone, battered and emotionally drained, but she had to keep moving. For her sake and for the sake of the baby she carried, she had to find a way to keep going.

Jonathan was in his usual morning routine, stretching in his hallway before heading out for his run. With his AirPods securely in place, he scrolled through his playlist, selecting a song to accompany his exercise. He closed his front door and began jogging down the street, the rhythmic beat of his music setting a steady pace.

As he approached the familiar stop sign at the end of his street, Jimmy noticed a "Road Closed" sign and a busted pipe blocking his usual right turn. Rolling his eyes, he realized he’d need to reroute through Stone Creek, a subdivision he knew well—Rhea lived there. The thought of possibly encountering her or Matt made him uneasy, especially given the recent family fallout. Even though Jey was estranged from the family due to the affair with Rhea, Jimmy still felt a deep sense of conflict.

Jimmy adjusted his route, his mind focusing solely on the run ahead. The rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement and the music in his ears created a temporary escape from his worries. However, his focus was abruptly shattered when he noticed a figure up ahead.

As he drew closer, he saw that the figure was a woman, and she seemed to be limping. She was carrying a duffel bag and what looked like a luggage bag and the sight was unusual, especially in such a well-to-do neighborhood. Suddenly, the woman dropped the two pieces of luggage and then the woman collapsed. Jimmy’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively shouted, “Hey, wait! Are you okay?!”

Though he wasn’t one to typically reach out to strangers, something about the scene felt urgent and alarming. He approached the woman cautiously, his concern growing as he noticed a growing pool of blood around her. His heart raced as he gently rolled her onto her back, his worst fears realized when he saw that it was Rhea.

Rhea’s face was bruised and swollen, and her joggers were stained with blood. Her eyes fluttered open weakly when she saw Jimmy, and she attempted to speak, but her words were choked off by labored breathing.

“Rhea! Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy said urgently, his voice trembling. He quickly pulled out his phone, dialing 911 with shaking hands. As he waited for the operator to answer, he held Rhea’s hand tightly, trying to offer some comfort amidst the chaos.

Rhea managed to utter a single word, “Baby,” her voice barely audible. Jimmy’s breath hitched as he processed her word. Panic set in—Rhea was pregnant, and her condition was deteriorating rapidly.

“Hang in there, Rhea, help is on the way!” Jimmy said, his voice cracking. Blood began to stain his shirt and shorts as he knelt beside her, trying to keep her as calm as possible. Her eyes started to roll back, and Jimmy’s breathing grew more erratic, his hyperventilation escalating with the urgency of the situation.

"Please I need an ambulance in the Stone Creek subdivison, I'm down from the two way! My friend she is bleeding! I need help!" Jimmy said urgently.

Soon, the sound of approaching sirens grew louder, and soon the EMS team arrived. They quickly assessed the situation, their professionalism a difference to Jimmy’s mounting panic. They began to load Rhea onto a stretcher, and Jimmy followed closely, his heart pounding in his chest.

As the paramedics worked, they began asking questions about Rhea’s condition. Jimmy struggled to provide answers, his mind racing as he tried to recall any details that might be helpful. “I don’t know much,” he said, his voice strained. “She’s pregnant, but I’m not sure how far along she is. I just found her like this.”

The EMS team continued their assessment, their expressions serious as they worked to stabilize Rhea. Jimmy felt helpless, watching as they administered care, trying to ignore the blood that continued to stain his clothes. He stayed close to Rhea, his presence a small comfort as they transported her to the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was a blur for Jimmy, filled with anxiety and fear. The only thing that mattered was Rhea’s well-being and the safety of the baby she carried. As they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled Rhea into the emergency room, and Jimmy was left standing in the hallway, waiting anxiously for any news.

The sight of Rhea’s battered and bloodied form, the realization of her pregnancy, and the violence that led to this moment weighed heavily on Jimmy. His mind was a whirlwind of concern for his brother’s estranged partner and the baby that would be deeply affected by this crisis. All he could do now was hope and wait for any updates on Rhea’s condition.

The waiting room was empty and impersonal, a normalcy difference to the chaos and urgency that had just unfolded. Jonathan, still in the ill-fitting blue scrubs provided by the hospital, paced back and forth. His mind was a whirlwind of worry and confusion, the events of the morning replaying over and over. The blood on his clothes, now taken by the police as evidence, left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Thankfully no one was in the waiting room.

In a moment of clarity amid the chaos, Jonathan reached for his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed Trinity’s number. The call connected, and her familiar voice was a small comfort.

“Hey, Jon, what’s going on?” Trinity asked, her tone concerned.

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “Trin', you need to come to the hospital. Rhea… Rhea’s here. She’s hurt badly. The police took my clothes for evidence because they were covered in blood.”

The gravity of the situation was evident in Trinity’s response. “Oh my God, Jon. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jonathan said, his voice strained. “Just shaken up. But I need you to bring me a change of clothes. These scrubs they gave me don’t fit, and I feel completely out of place. And… I think you should come here as soon as you can.”

“I’m on my way,” Trinity assured him, her voice filled with urgency. “Just hang in there. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

Jonathan thanked her, his relief palpable even through the strain in his voice. He ended the call and continued to pace, his thoughts racing. The hospital’s sterile environment did little to comfort him as he replayed the events in his mind.

Every detail of Rhea’s injuries, her bleeding and battered state, was etched into his memory. The image of her collapsing on the street and the desperation in her eyes was haunting. The reality of her situation and the violence she had endured made the waiting room feel like a prison, each minute stretching longer than the last.

As he waited for Trinity to arrive, Jonathan’s thoughts turned to Jey. He knew how difficult this must be for him, and the family dynamics were complicated. The affair with Rhea and the subsequent fallout had already strained their family ties. Now, with Rhea’s condition so dire, the complexity of their situation seemed almost unbearable.

When Trinity arrived, she brought with her a change of clothes and a look of deep concern. She approached Jonathan, embracing him briefly before handing him the fresh clothes. “I’m so sorry, Jon,” she said softly. “We’ll get through this. How’s Rhea?”

“Still waiting for updates,” Jonathan replied, accepting the clothes gratefully. He quickly changed into the new outfit, feeling slightly more comfortable. “I don’t know much, but I hope she’s stable. The doctors have been working on her for a while now.”

Trinity sat beside him, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the uncertainty. They both stared at the door to the emergency room, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on their shoulders. As they waited for any news, Jonathan found solace in Trinity’s support and the shared hope that Rhea’s condition would improve.

The moments dragged on, each tick of the clock a reminder of the ordeal they were enduring. Jonathan’s thoughts remained with Rhea, Jey, and the future of the baby they were all so deeply concerned about. All they could do now was wait and pray for the best.

Jonathan continued to pace, the weight of Rhea’s condition pressing down on him. The calm unfeeling environment of the waiting room only heightened his sense of despair. He knew he needed to reach out to Jey, despite the estrangement that had existed between them due to Jey's affair with Rhea. The situation was dire, and Jonathan’s frustration and concern outweighed his resentment.

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan dialed Jey’s number. The line rang a few times before Jey’s voice came through, sounding both tired and wary.

"Why you calling?" Jey’s tone was cautious.

Jonathan’s voice was taut with anxiety as he relayed the grim news. "Joshua, I need you to know what’s happened. Rhea’s here at the hospital—she’s in bad shape. I found her bloodied and battered. The police have taken my clothes for evidence."

There was a stunned silence on the other end before Jey’s voice cracked with panic. "Oh my God, Jon. What? Are you serious? How bad is it?"

"It’s really bad," Jonathan replied, his voice trembling. "I don’t know much yet. The doctors are still working on her, but I needed you to know. I know we’ve had our issues, but she needs all the support she can get right now."

Jey’s response was urgent and frantic. "I’m coming down to Orlando as fast as I can. I’ll book a flight right now. Just—hang in there. I need to be there."

Jonathan’s heart ached at the desperation in Jey’s voice. "Okay. Please hurry. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I know more."

"I will," Jey assured him, the determination clear in his tone. "I’ll be there soon."

Jonathan ended the call and sank into a nearby chair, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. Jey’s arrival would bring another layer of complexity to the situation, but right now, the focus needed to be on Rhea’s recovery. He glanced at Trinity, who was watching him with concerned eyes.

"Jey’s coming down," Jonathan said quietly. "He’s booking a flight now."

Trinity nodded, squeezing Jonathan’s hand for reassurance. "We’ll get through this. One step at a time."

As they resumed their anxious vigil, the anticipation of Jey’s arrival and the ongoing hope for Rhea’s recovery filled the air. Jonathan could only hope that, despite the tensions and past grievances, the presence of his brother might offer some solace in this harrowing time.

—

As Jonathan and Trinity waited in tense silence, the door to the waiting room finally opened. A doctor in scrubs entered, his face a mask of professional concern. Jonathan and Trinity both stood, their hearts pounding as the doctor approached.

"Are you both here for Mrs. Demi Adams?" the doctor asked, his gaze shifting between them.

Jonathan nodded. "Yes, that’s Rhea. What’s her condition?"

The doctor’s expression grew somber. "Mrs. Adams has suffered severe trauma. She’s lost the baby due to the impact to her stomach. Additionally, she has significant internal bruising to her ribs and has lost more than 35 percent of her blood. She will need a transfusion."

Jonathan felt his stomach drop at the news. "What can we do to help?"

The doctor turned to Jonathan. "Would you two be willing to donate?"

Jonathan quickly responded, "I’m O Negative."

Trinity added, "I’m AB Positive."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Jonathan, O Negative is the universal donor type and will be the best fit for her. I can arrange for you to donate blood immediately."

Jonathan glanced at Trinity. "Trin', call Jey and let him know what’s happening. He’s on his way here."

Trinity nodded and stepped aside to make the call. Meanwhile, the doctor guided Jonathan toward a nearby medical area for the blood donation.

Jonathan prepared to give blood, he felt a surge of mixed emotions—fear, determination, and a deep sense of responsibility. The gravity of the situation was overwhelming, but he knew that every bit of help could make a difference for Rhea.

As the needle was inserted and the blood began to flow, Jonathan’s mind remained focused on the hope that his donation would help stabilize Rhea. He glanced back toward Trinity, who was already busy on the phone, and silently wished for strength for everyone involved. He then realized something as he saw the blood flow… Rhea will now carry the blood of a Samoan.

—

Jey said his goodbyes to his kids, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He glanced back at Takecia, his ex-wife, who watched him from a distance with an unreadable expression. As he got into the Uber, the finality of the moment settled in. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Rhea and the unexpected, tragic turn her life had taken.

The Uber ride to the airport felt interminable. Jey's thoughts raced, grappling with the shocking news. Rhea’s plan had been to confront Matt, her husband, to tell him she was leaving. The violence she had suffered left Jey with a gnawing question—was Matt responsible for what had happened to her? The possibility gnawed at him, fueling his urgency.

While the Uber navigated through traffic, Jey pulled out his phone and began typing furiously. First, he sent a message to Damian Priest:

“Damian, Rhea’s been attacked. Jimmy called. She’s in critical condition at the hospital. I’m heading to Orlando now. I’ll keep you updated.”

He quickly followed up with a message to their boss, Paul Levesque, aka Triple H:

“Paul, Rhea’s been seriously hurt. Jimmy’s at the hospital with her, and I’m flying down to Orlando ASAP. I’ll keep you posted. I think this going to hit the press soon.”

As he finished sending the messages, Jey’s mind was already racing ahead, preparing for what awaited him in Orlando. The media frenzy was inevitable; Jimmy’s discovery of the wounded Rhea would likely draw significant attention. Jey hoped that his presence might offer some stability amidst the unfolding chaos.

The Uber pulled up to the airport, and Jey stepped out, taking a deep breath. His focus sharpened as he moved quickly through security, every step driven by the urgency to be by Rhea’s side. His phone buzzed with responses as he made his way to the gate, but his thoughts remained firmly on Rhea and the daunting challenge that lay ahead.

Jey rushed up to the airline counter, his urgency evident as he approached the clerk. “I need a first-class ticket to Orlando, non-stop,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s an emergency.”

The clerk’s eyes widened as she recognized him. “Oh, you’re Jey Uso, aren’t you? One half of the Usos! It’s such an honor to meet you.”

Jey, barely registering the fanfare, nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s me. I really need to get to Orlando as soon as possible. Is there any way you can expedite this?”

Understanding the gravity of the situation, the clerk quickly shifted gears. “Of course, let me check for you.”

She typed rapidly on her keyboard, then looked up with a sympathetic smile. “I’ve got a first-class seat available on a non-stop flight to Orlando that’s boarding in 10 minutes at Gate 62. The fare is $837.62.”

Jey barely hesitated handing his credit card. “Just charge it. I don’t care about the price. I just need to get there.”

The clerk processed the payment swiftly, handing Jey the ticket. “Here you go. Gate 62. You should head over there quickly; they’ll be boarding soon.”

Jey thanked her and sprinted toward the gate, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. As he approached Gate 62, he could hear the final boarding call for his flight.

He glanced at his ticket, then at the departure screen, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. The urgency of the situation pushed him forward as he made his way onto the plane, hoping that the flight would pass swiftly and that he would arrive in Orlando in time to offer Rhea the support she so desperately needed. Another five hours he is going to have to wait..

—

After four long hours, Rhea finally managed to open her eyes. The morphine was working its way through her system, making her feel drowsy and disoriented. As her vision cleared, she was surprised to see she was in a hospital room surrounded by unfamiliar faces—Jonathan, Trinity, and Solofa Fatu, known to WWE fans as Rikishi.

Jonathan was the first to notice her waking. He gently nudged Trinity, who had fallen asleep in a chair next to him. As Trinity stirred and looked over, Jonathan leaned closer to Rhea.

“Rhea, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Rhea blinked slowly, struggling to piece together her foggy memories. “I... I remember getting off the Uber and walking into my house. That’s it. I don’t remember anything else.”

Jonathan sighed, his expression filled with relief. “I found you with your luggage on my morning run. You just collapsed in front of me.”

Rhea’s face showed her frustration and confusion. “I can’t remember anything. Why... why am I here?”

Solofa, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer. His presence was commanding, and his voice carried a deep, cultural resonance. “Rhea, my son has done something very brave. I know this might be hard to understand right now.”

Rhea looked at Solofa, her eyes filled with question and concern. Trinity spoke up, her voice calm and reassuring. “He’s talking about Jon. He saved your life by donating a lot of blood.”

Solofa nodded, his gaze steady and serious. “Rhea, I need to tell you something important. There are deep connections in our Samoan culture, and while I am troubled by the circumstances that led us here—circumstances that have strained my son's marriage—I also understand that responsibility and honor are central to our ways. You are now linked to our Samoan Bloodline. We are bound by blood and duty.”

Rhea, still groggy and disoriented, could only absorb part of Solofa’s words. The cultural weight of his message was not lost on her, and she nodded slightly, acknowledging the gravity of the connection being made.

Solofa’s gaze softened, showing both the seriousness of his concern and the depth of his cultural values. “You must understand, Rhea, that in our tradition, family and honor are everything. Whatever has happened, we are bound together now in a way that cannot be easily severed.”

Jonathan and Trinity watched the exchange with a mixture of respect and concern. Rhea, despite her struggle to fully grasp the situation, could sense the profound significance of Solofa’s words and the deep cultural ties that now connected her to this family.

As Rhea nodded her head, the weight of the conversation settled over her, mingling with the pain and confusion of her recovery. Despite the challenges ahead, the support from Jonathan, Trinity, and the Fatu family provided a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil.

Solofa gave clear instructions to Jonathan before Jey was allowed to see Rhea. “I need to speak with both of you before Jey goes into her room. Please, follow me.”

Jonathan exchanged a puzzled glance with Trinity but followed Solofa out of the room. As they left, Rhea, still trying to piece together the fragments of her memory, turned to Trinity with a mix of confusion and concern.

“What are they doing?” Rhea asked, her voice weak and trembling.

Trinity offered a reassuring smile, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety. “It’s going to be very special what they do. It’s part of how we honor and support each other in our culture.”

Rhea didn’t fully grasp what Trinity meant but chose to let it go for now. “I still can’t remember anything clearly,” she admitted, frustration creeping into her voice.

Trinity took a deep breath and gently brought up the topic she had been dreading. “Rhea, the baby... you lost the baby due to the trauma.”

As soon as the words left Trinity’s mouth, Rhea’s composure broke. Her face crumpled with grief, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. She didn't utter a word, the weight of the loss too overwhelming for her to articulate.

Trinity immediately moved to her side, her own heart aching at Rhea’s anguish. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Rhea into a tight embrace. Despite the discomfort of the hospital bed, Trinity held her friend close, her grip firm and unwavering.

Rhea clung to Trinity, the raw pain of her loss pouring out in silent sobs. Trinity’s presence was a lifeline, her warmth and steadfast support providing some solace amidst the heartbreak.

For a long while, they remained like that, Trinity’s comforting embrace a small refuge from the storm of grief. The shared sadness and the strength of their bond were palpable, offering a brief respite from the crushing weight of Rhea’s sorrow.

After another two hours, Jey finally arrived at the hospital. Exhausted and anxious, he was met by his father, Solofa, and his brother, Jonathan. They led him to a private hospital room not currently in use, where Solofa took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

“Joshua,” Solofa began, using Jey’s real name, his voice steady but filled with the weight of the situation. “Jonathan has done something incredibly brave for Rhea. He donated a significant amount of blood to save her life.”

Jey's eyes were already brimming with tears, but Solofa’s next words hit him like a punch to the gut. Solofa took a step to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. He was not the man to bullshit. “The baby didn’t make it.”

The gravity of the news overwhelmed Jey. He sank to his knees, his body shaking with sobs. Jonathan rushed to his brother, wrapping him in a tight embrace. The sight of Jey’s anguish pierced Solofa’s heart, and he felt a deep, painful empathy for his sons.

As Jonathan held Jey, offering him whatever comfort he could, Solofa’s own heart ached for the family he was trying to hold together. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Jey’s muffled cries.

After a few moments, Solofa gathered his composure and addressed Jonathan. “Jonathan, I need you to join your cousins in a small ceremonial haka in Rhea’s room. This is an important part of her official induction into the family, and it’s a way to honor her acknowledging the new bonds formed through this ordeal.”

Jonathan nodded, understanding the significance of the ritual. Solofa turned back to Jey, his expression filled with a mix of sternness and compassion.

“Joshua, you need to be strong. This haka is for you and Rhea, a way to honor and welcome her into our family despite the pain. It’s a tradition that connects us all, and it’s a sign of respect for what has happened.”

Jey wiped his tears, trying to steady his breathing. He knew the importance of the haka and the role it played in their culture. With a heavy heart but a sense of resolve, he prepared himself for the ceremonial rite.

Jonathan, having received the instructions, headed towards Rhea’s room. He knew that this ceremony was more than just a formality—it was a profound expression of family, honor, and the strength of their cultural traditions.

As Jonathan and Solofa prepared for the haka, the air in the hospital room grew thick with the anticipation of a ritual that would bring some semblance of closure and unity amidst the chaos. The haka would serve as both a tribute to Rhea and a reaffirmation of the bonds that held the family together, even in the face of overwhelming sorrow.

Jey walked slowly to Rhea’s bedside, his heart heavy with grief. Seeing her so frail and vulnerable in the hospital bed was almost too much to bear. He knelt beside her, tears streaming down his face, and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. The sight of Rhea’s tear-filled eyes meeting his own was heartbreaking. They both began to sob, mourning the loss of their unborn child in each other’s arms. Jey clasped her hand tightly, their shared sorrow a poignant reminder of their connection.

As they clung to one another, the door to the room opened, and Solofa, Jonathan and Joseph better known to WWE as Solo Sikoa, and three of their cousins entered. The solemnity of their expressions underscored the gravity of the moment. Solofa took his place at the head of the group, his presence commanding and filled with a deep sense of cultural responsibility.

Without a word, Solofa began to lead the haka, his voice rising in a powerful chant that reverberated through the room. The haka, a traditional war dance, was performed with fierce intensity and solemnity, embodying the strength and resilience of their heritage. The rhythmic stamping of feet and the rhythmic, synchronized movements of the performers conveyed a profound sense of unity and respect.

The haka was more than just a performance; it was a sacred ritual that honored Rhea and the loss they were mourning. Each movement of the dance was infused with the deep cultural significance of their Samoan traditions, reflecting the pain, strength, and solidarity of the family. The chant, powerful and evocative, served as both a tribute to Rhea’s struggles and a reaffirmation of the bonds that held them all together.

As the haka reached its climax, the raw emotion of the ritual was palpable. The intense, rhythmic energy of the dance resonated with the room’s atmosphere, creating a sense of sacred connection. Jey and Rhea watched, their tears mingling with the shared grief of their family. The haka was a profound expression of their collective sorrow and strength, a cultural embrace that enveloped them all.

After the haka, the room fell into a reflective silence. The performers stood with a quiet dignity, their faces marked by the intensity of the ritual. Jey, still holding Rhea’s hand, felt a profound sense of cultural and familial solidarity. The haka had not only honored their loss but also reinforced their place within the Samoan Bloodline, binding them together through their shared heritage.

In the quiet that followed, the emotional weight of the moment lingered, a testament to the deep connections forged through tradition and family.

—

*Please note: The depiction of Samoan ritual dance in this story is intended solely for entertainment purposes and is not meant to offend or disrespect any cultural practices. The intention is to honor the cultural significance while crafting a fictional narrative. I deeply respect the Samoan culture and the traditions it represents.*

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