#if you ask me i think Louis would do this difference | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghouldump · 10 months ago

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more loustat x chill/unbothered/oblivious fem reader PLEASE!!

maybe she's like been a part of their relationship for a while, and she like the fledgling of some other vampire, her and her maker were like chill and totally platonic he dipped at some point before she met loustat, and she like the sane one between them and unfortunately gets ignored/left out unfortunately

something like the scene from season 1 where Louis swims across the Mississippi river to get to Lestat, and like reader is there too cause she went w Louis and loustat being there dramatic selves while she's just like trying to talk it out like adults, and then it spirals into argument about her wanting to visit her maker because Lestat, and tbh Louis too, is petty like that

Also your iwtv fics are my life line omg!!🎀

L'amour De Ma Vie | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ while you love your companions, it is no secret that they oftentimes exclude you, and it isn't until you leave that they go into panic mode.

I love this idea, I hope you don't mind me changing it a little bit 🩷

“Louis, Y/n, you’re both soaking wet,” Lestat sat up from the bed.

Glancing at Louis, you could tell he was seconds away from slapping the smirk from Lestat’s face. The woman, Antoinette, wrapped one of the many sheets around her body, awkwardly staring at the two of you.

“Leave,” he told her, and just like that, she was up, running out of the bedroom.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for you, and we…found you,” you answered. Louis remained silent, staring at Lestat, his mind all over the place from his companion's betrayal.

You understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, you didn't. Your maker, Lucius, lives a polyamorous lifestyle. From the moment he turned you, becoming his daughter, you saw the plethora of women and men come and go. Eternity was too long for him to stay with one person, he'd jokingly say, leaving a trail of broken hearts.

“You put your lover on the song, and expect us to come running back to you,” Louis screamed at him.

“I wanted a clear voice, to get the-

“I don’t give a fuck,” Louis interrupted.

“Louis, we agreed that we would just talk it out,” you told him, watching as he was fuming, but he ignored your words.

“You two swam to Mississippi to find me,” Lestat kept the same expression, eyeing the both of you lustfully.

“I swim faster than I drive,” Louis said, his fangs coming out.

“We don’t have to fight like this, we can find a middle ground-

“No, why are you acting unbothered by him stepping out on both of us?” Louis asked.

“I’m not, polyamory isn’t a deal breaker for me, so I feel like-

“He cheated Y/n, whatever bullshit you were exposed to by your maker, doesn’t apply in this relationship,” he told you, catching you off guard.

“That isn’t what I’m saying, we came here because of the song but also because we’ve agreed to make things work”

“So why are you acting like you’re on his side?”

“Louis, what are you talking about? Just because I’m not as angry as you, doesn’t mean I am against you, Lucius has always said anger is-

“Do you always have to bring him up?” Lestat asked a slight frown in place.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius, are you with us, or Lucius?” He raised his voice. Furrowing your eyebrows, you were extremely confused, about how the conversation went from Lestat’s infidelity to your relationship with your maker.

“I’m beginning to question the same thing,” you said, backing away.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” Louis shook his head, mentally criticizing himself for his choice of words.

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, before leaving, due to your small age difference in your makers, you were faster than Louis, going back home.

You hated this feeling, this emotion, how your mind made you think of things that never bothered you too much before, but now did. From the moment you joined their companionship, you were constantly unintentionally excluded. Even in public, you cringed at times you were assumed to be nothing more than a friend of the two.

Entering the home you had grown to love, you went upstairs, packing some clothing in a bag. You were thankful that Claudia was out hunting, knowing your departure wouldn’t be so smooth if she’d been home. Leaving the bedroom, the family portrait caught your eye, making you pout.

Claudia sat on the sofa, while you, stood next to Louis and Lestat, who leaned against the sofa. You had been hesitant to take the photos, but they all insisted. As the photographer went to snap the photo, Lestat glanced at you.

“Come closer,” he said, pulling you between him and Louis.

His hand on your waist, while Louis held your hand, you all looked like a happy family.

Wiping the tear from your eye, you thought of how despite the occasional exclusion, they did so much more that made you overlook the habit. Maybe you could just get away for a little while, before coming back home.

Glamouring your way from state to state, for well over 24 hours, before you arrived in Los Angeles. Lucius fit into the bright city where stars and beauty resided. As you drained the shipment driver, you felt your blood pumping, an adrenaline rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Lifting from the man, you looked around, sensing the familiar presence near.

“I knew it was you I was sensing,” you heard, smiling brightly, you climbed out of the truck, running into Lucius' arms. His expensive scent filled your nose, as you wiped your mouth.

“What are you wearing, my love, is this what they wear down in New Orleans?” he asked, staring at your outfit. Beige trousers, along with a light pink blouse, he shook his head in disapproval. He considered himself to have impeccable taste in clothing, but he also was old-fashioned in some ways.

“I couldn't have traveled practically in a dress,” you said.

“I am more than glad that you are here, but why so sudden? I mean, no letter or postcard”

“I just wanted to get away from home for a while”

“Those two aren't treating you right? They are easily replaceable, what have I always told you, an eternity is-

“too long to be stuck with the same person, and I should always explore my taste, I know, and Louis and Lestat are fine, I just wanted to get away, I was hoping I could stay with you, for some time, if that's alright”

“Of course, you are always welcome,” he said, walking you to his car.

He didn't live too far away, in an expensive neighborhood, his villa home, the most extravagant. Stepping out, you immediately noticed the woman, peaking from the window.

“You have company?”

“Yes, Sonya, she wants to be an actor”

“You said that weirdly, is she special, maybe a potential companion?” you asked him, grinning.

“She has very sweet blood and an equally cute face, so I keep her around”

“You were just talking about me being with the same people-

“My love, this is different, she has grown on me, yes, but I think we both know I’ll eventually crave something new,” he smirked, as he wrapped his arm around you, leading you into the house.

“Shameless,” you laughed.

“It's true, and the best part of all, when the sex is wonderful they always come running back, come on, I have an extra coffin, you can sleep in”

“I went all the way to Metairie, and nothing, what about you?” Louis announced, walking back into the house. Pacing the floor, while Lestat sat at the piano, staring off into space.

“Why is he back here, I thought we weren’t talking to him right now? And where’s Y/n?” Claudia asked.

“Not now Clau-

“She’s gone, she took some clothes and left,” Lestat finally spoke.

“She can’t be too far, we can still find her and-

“I’ve been all over Mississippi, searching, nothing, not a trace, I can’t think of where she could be and I’m not her m-” Stopping in his speech, he put his head down, clenching his jaw. His leg shook lightly, trying to contain his anger.

“What is it?” Louis asked as he and Claudia stared confusedly at him.

“She’s with her maker,” he managed to get out.

His eyes reddened as he grew angrier, Lestat couldn’t help that he was inherently jealous, unrighteously possessive, especially towards those he loved, and that was very few. You were the most relaxed, forgiving vampire he'd ever met. Extremely oblivious and doting, you'd brag to whoever would listen about how great he was.

While he and Louis held all of the attention, he could hear you bragging to some mortal how well-dressed Louis was, or how Lestat was the greatest musician to grace your ears. You would go on and on, stroking their egos, willingly accepting and loving their baggage Claudia, you were a precious gem, adored by them both.

Your personality was much calmer than theirs, while they regularly clashed, you'd be bringing up calming methods, or ignoring them, chatting with Claudia.

“You have the power over your anger, Lucius was once a cruel angry vampire until he realized it was pointless, if the situation can be fixed, then do it, but if not, leave it in the past,” you'd quote.

Lucius, Lestat hated the man greatly, despite never coming across him before. Suppose his hate began from the respect you held for the man. He was around the same age as Lestat, from Italy, and was very handsome, he'd heard you say before.

He wished he could undo time so that he could become your maker. His blood in your veins, your heart in sync with his own, his fully, bound by more than your vow of companionship. While Louis only hated the man for the weird lifestyle habits he passed along to you, Lestat loathed the idea of another being nearly as perfect as he was to you.

“Lucius speaks French too, although he's more fluent in Italian”

“Lucius is also into fashion, he used to dress me all the time”

“Lucius was once a part of an opera, but he ended up causing a bit of drama because he slept with nearly everyone who worked there”

“Lucius…”

Lestat sat frozen seething at the thought of the man. He wanted nothing more than to kill him for making his way into your heart, he couldn't care less about the kind of relationship you'd shared with him.

“Uncle Les,” Claudia called out, exchanging a look with Louis.

“We can still get her to come home, he has sent her mail before,” looking around, he sent to the pile of mail, looking through and seeing the ripped-open envelope.

“Los Angeles, she's in Los Angeles, we can find her,” Louis approached Lestat, showing him the mail.

“She's gone, she's gone back to him and left us,” Lestat mumbled to himself, already crying.

“Hey, we’re gonna find her and she'll hear out, she’ll come back home,” Louis told Lestat, also trying to convince himself, as tears dropped from his eyes.

“I’m going to bed,” Lestat sulked.

“So you can cry all night? Do you want Y/n to come back or not, I sure as hell got used to some peace around here, we have the address, we can easily find a way out there, stop being so dramatic,” Claudia screamed at him.

“I preferred her quiet,” he said, sniffling.

“We can get her back home, you know how she is, she'll want to talk it out before we're back on the road”

“The insufferable therapy sessions,” he chimed in, as he wiped his eyes.

“Exactly, we can start planning right now,” Louis said, his companion nodded in agreement.

“How much do I need to pack?” Claudia asked.

“What makes you think you could come?” Lestat asked her, crossing his legs.

“Because I care about Y/n too”

“We won't be gone for long Claudia, we're just trying to get her to come back home,” Louis said to her, watching as she stepped away.

“If Y/n was here, she would not be okay with you just leaving me here,” she said, stomping upstairs.

“Where should we start?”

“Why don’t you turn Sonya? It’s so obvious that you care about her?” You asked Lucius as you danced to the classical record, in the considerably large living room. Wearing the custom gown he'd gifted you, both of your mouths were covered in blood from the guest of the orgy he'd hosted.

It had been nearly a week of spending time with him, and you were enjoying every moment of the easygoing, carefree life.

“None of this music is as good as it once was, going to see Paganini, I had never heard an instrument played so beautifully,” he shook his head, ignoring your question.

“Lucius,” you called his name knowingly, forcing him to look at you.

“I can't turn her, I…I love her,” he admitted, dipping you.

“If you love her, you'd turn her, and you both can have eternity together,” you told him, but he smiled, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“If I love her, then I'll let her live, have children of her own, and pass on as a pretty little elderly woman,” he said.

“Very noble of you,” you joked.

“I guess, but I’ll hold on until that time comes, I have another two years, and she’ll be twenty-seven”

“Aw, Lucius, are you sure you don't want me to do it?” you asked, as he continued to dance.

“Love looks different for everyone, my love, you, of all people, understand that,” he chuckled.

“I guess you're right”

“I suppose that is why your lovers are about to burst into my home,” he said with a smile, as he held you close.

“Yeah, probably, wait, wh-

Just then, the front door burst open, Lestat and Louis storming it, although, they had different targets, rushing over. Louis stood in front of you, pulling you away, into his arms, already pleading that you forgive him for how he spoke and his recent habit of exclusion.

While Lestat instantly had Lucius against the wall, his hand to his throat. Your maker only laughed, you truly learned well, both of these men wrapped completely around your finger, and you didn't even realize it.

“Lestat, don't,” you told him, hearing his chaotic thoughts, he wanted Lucius dead.

“You leave without a word, in the middle of the night. Countless arguments, and the moment he comes up, you up and leave me, leave us,” he screamed.

“We can talk about it, but I need you to let him go, I don't want to see you two fighting, so please, just release him,” you said, exhaling a breath of air, as he let go, growling at Lucius, who nonchalantly walked to you.

“You've done so well, my love, they're like your two little dogs,” he laughed, turning off the music.

“Lucius,” you warned lightly, as he pulled you close to whisper into your ear.

“I’ll give you a bit of privacy, I presume you won't be here when am back, I want you to reach out more often, it has been fun since you've been back home”

“I will,” you nodded.

“Wonderful, I love you”

“I love you too,” you said, watching as he went outside, flying into the air in an instant.

“What are you two doing here?” you asked them, wiping your mouth.

“What are we doing here? Did you forget that you have companions, or did you not care?” Lestat asked angrily.

“You up and left, you didn't even leave a note,” Louis said.

“Did you not care when you were in Mississippi, did you care when you brought up upbringing as if it was an insult?” the words shut them up, the guilt evident, in their eyes.

“Do you love him more, you went back to your maker because you want him more, we haven't been enough for you,” Lestat spoke.

“I'm sorry for what I said to you, I was angry and I misdirected my anger and I didn't mean to do that, especially to you,” Louis apologized.

“Apologizing is pointless, you love him more than any of us, I just need to hear you say it, perhaps that will give me the closure I need, say Lestat, I never loved you-

Bursting out laughing, you covered your mouth, waving your hand apologetically at the two.

“I'm sorry, but you two are drama queens,” you laughed.

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn't even take all of my clothes, or my coffin if I was leaving, I would be taking that because it’s custom,” you told them.

“Why didn't you say that in a letter?” Louis asked you.

“Because I thought about leaving for good, but then I considered how much I love you both, yes, I am oftentimes left out, but when I'm not, I feel like I'm on top of the world, and as you said, we have gotten into countless of arguments, why would I just because you brought up Lucius?”

“You're always bringing him up, comparing-

“I’m not comparing the two of you, you have a few things in common, it has only been a handful of times, but you only like the attention on you, you get so jealous at the thought of me talking about another man,” you laughed.

“Don't be ridiculous, and he's not nearly as good-looking as me,” he said.

“See, I never compared your looks, I know who looks better, Lucius doesn't come close”

“You too, Louis, jealous, worried that I wouldn't think that our relationship is enough and I’d go back to Lucius to practice his lifestyle, it's cute really, you both came scrambling out here, to win me back, I am touched and a few other things,” you continued as they approached you.

Immediately, Lestat was kissing your lips, holding you close, scared to let you slip away. Pushing away from him, you pulled Louis near, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Lestat stood behind you, kissing your neck, and tearing the dress.

“Where’s Claudia?” you asked through your moans, as each article of clothing was peeled away. Stopping, the two slowly stared at each other, before looking at you.

“She’s in New Orleans”

“You left her in New Orleans, by herself? We need to leave now, why would you do that?” you yelled, going to pack your things.

“Wait, can we finish what we started?” Louis asked his hand over the painfully stiff sensation between his legs.

“No, we need to get back to her”

“I hate when the brat is right”

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac x reader #louis x reader #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv

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lizardkingeliot · 11 months ago

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Hoooo boy okay let's do this. 2x06 was a goddamn doozy, you guys. There was a very strong theme here throughout the episode of makers and fledglings being able to feel one another through their shared blood even when they can't read each other's minds. Louis says he can feel Madeleine is out of town because she is his fledgling. Likewise, Madeleine calls out the fact that she can feel Louis after acknowledging she can't read his mind. But there's something else happening here too....

She looks to Armand. Says she can feel Louis' love for him through their blood. Then calls out the fact that... Louis won't tell him? Only... Louis HAS told Armand "I love you". That was a pretty important element of 2x04. The casual way he said it with the vision of Lestat laughing at the bedside all the while. The one Louis actually couldn't say it to...

Was Lestat. We all remember, but just in case anyone forgot...

But what does Madeleine ascribe this feeling to? Why does she think she can FEEL Louis loving Armand? Because of the blood they share. The blood they share that comes from Lestat. The blood Claudia didn't want Madeleine to have BECAUSE it's Lestat's. The episode did a really great job of reminding us about the blood bonds and just what it means to have a connection to your maker. And when that maker is also your lover..... hoooooo boy.........

Anyway. The love. The blood. The bond with your maker. I can understand why Madeleine would be confused about the love Louis is feeling. She sees Louis with Armand. She assumes they're in love. She doesn't realize...

Her maker is sitting there thinking about his own maker the entire time. To the point he almost quotes him word for word before he stops himself...

And of course he's thinking about Lestat. He's just become a maker himself. Why WOULDN'T he be thinking about Lestat? Even after saying goodbye to Dreamstat, he can't get Lestat out of his mind. Even after becoming a shadow of who he used to be. Someone cold and distant. He's trying so hard, but it's never going to work. He's never going to be able to shove Lestat away completely. And he's certainly never going to be capable of loving Armand in the way Armand desperately wants Louis to love him. Because while Armand might say he belongs to Louis. If you ask Louis if he belongs to Armand, well...

And honestly... I feel so horrible for Armand here. Because there's nothing he could have done that would have made this particular outcome any different. He never stood a chance. Louis and Lestat are bonded not only in their blood but in their hearts and their souls. Lestat was not only Louis' maker but the love of his life. His first love. The first man he ever allowed himself true intimacy with. The one he shared a coffin with. The one he shares a heart with. Louis is trying so hard to be who he was before Lestat, someone closed off and cold. But he cannot sever the bond in their blood and in their hearts with all the coldness in the world...

Which leads me to wonder... did the love Madeleine detect in Louis not only have to do with his blood bond with Lestat/the fact that he was thinking about Lestat the whole time, but also the fact that Lestat was already in Paris? Could Louis feel it? Was he aware of feeling that innate connection but was so determined to make himself a hardened shell of who he once was that he just brushed it of? Thought it was residual grief? Is that why his visions of Lestat before he banished him in 2x04 were so vivid? Because Lestat was in Paris for years, and despite not really knowing that, Louis felt it all the same?

Anyway. Moving on. Circling back to Armand and Louis and the topic of love. When they're discussing Armand not being aware of what Santiago was truly up to, Armand blames being distracted on being in love and Louis just... outright scoffs at the idea?

We sure are a long way from "meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life" territory this deep into season 2, that's for sure. And sure, in Dubai Louis is feeling bitter and doesn't trust Armand for many reasons this particular post aren't about. But even looking back on it, on the time that should have been their honeymoon phase before it all went to shit, Louis just... doesn't see love there. Or at least not being In Love. Because the only one Louis was in love with in Paris was his maker. The one he was bonded to in blood.

And the one he's about to have to sit on a stage with next week and never once be permitted to touch. Never once be permitted a moment of truth with. But the bond is still going to be there. They'll still feel each other's hearts, beating as one with their shared blood. And we have to assume after that... they just never see each other again after Paris? And just thinking on that point alone... it truly is no wonder Louis is still so unwell in Dubai. Locked away in his tower that is his prison that is his forgetting. I wasn't sure I believed Armand when he said Louis asked him to take the memory of San Francisco away from him. But I think I actually do? It makes sense. That he would want to forget something like that. And it also makes me wonder...

What else did Louis want to forget? And how much of that forgetting is related to this agonizing, unbreakable blood bond he shares with Lestat? I truly have no clue how far they're going to take this, so I guess we'll just have to wait to find out...

#interview with the vampire spoilers #interview with the vampire #loustat #otp: all my love belongs to you #iwtv meta #iwtvedit #i'm doing totally fine thanks for asking

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tpwk-formula1 · 8 months ago

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I would love to place an order!! Thick crust with Red sauce and topped with jalepenos, artichokes, roasted mushrooms, prosciutto, pulled pork, and pancetta served by Lando and Oscar….

(Thinking maybe Zak’s daughter 🤪)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use" roasted mushrooms "Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” proscuitto "I love making this pretty pussy squirt" pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" pancetta "Your father always finds a way to piss me off" pink lemonade degrading kink vodka soda squirting dessert no served by Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri

Oscar x Lando x Brown! reader

AN - okay so my computer broke while writing this 😃 so I finished on my phone and will be getting my computer fixed sometime tomorrow and hopefully will be posting more tomorrow night!!

TW - fingering, squirting, double penetration, multiple orgasms, blow job, pussy eating, light M x M

Y/N POV

"Pick one, gorgeous," Lando tells me softly while pulling me into his arms as we look at the different Louis Vuitton sunglasses.

"Lando, I have to save to travel the rest of the season. Sure my dad is paying for my travel but I want to be able to splurge the last little bit of the year," I respond back while moving out of his arms and towards Oscar who was looking at luggage.

"How many do you think you'll need?" Oscar asks while looking at the few designs the store had in stock.

"Oscar, none. I will need none. I have suitcases already. What are you and Lando even on right now?" I ask softly while Lando approaches up.

"We'll take two of these," Oscar told the worker while pointing to a large LV rolling trunk in the classic print with fuchsia accents.

"Oscar, what the fuck are you on? What are both of you guys on?" I whisper shout to both of the boys who just stare back at me with a smile.

"The deal," Lando responds making me think back to a few weeks ago when Lando and Oscar had offered to take me to bed in exchange for a shopping spree. I had in fact gone back with them that night but I had no intentions of using the shopping spree. I was content with the thought of spending the night with them and maybe more than just one.

"I thought it was a joke. I was more than happy to spend a night with you two," I tell them as the worker comes back with the new luggage as well as 3 different pairs of sunglasses.

"What the hell Lando," I asked horrified that he went ahead and picked several different pairs.

"You didn't tell me which ones you liked so I grabbed the ones you had picked up and looked at," Lando responds with a bright smile.

We where currently in Milan shopping around, and I had bought a few things here and there but for the most part I was just happy to be with the boys and watching them purchase the things they wanted.

"You're insane, help me pick ONE pair," I respond back while looking through the three pairs and finding my favorite and showing the boys.

"They're yours!" Lando cheers with excitement clearly written all over his face.

"You're insane," I laugh while handing the other two pairs back to the worker and handing Lando the sunglasses I had picked.

When we leave the Louis Vuitton store I ask if we can head back to the hotel. The boys agreed and we made our way back to our hotel.

When we got into the hotel I rushed into the bathroom and changed into a new lingerie set I had picked out while the boys were grabbing us food so neither of them knew what I had gotten.

"Hey, would you guys be able to come in here for a second," I call out to the boys while sticking my head out the bathroom door?

When I see both of the boys come into the bedroom part of the hotel suite I see a confused look written all over Lando's face and Oscar is waiting for me to explain with a raised brow.

"So when you guys went and grabbed food I bought something and I really hope you like it and don't think I look silly," I admit softly before opening the door to reveal the lacy black lingerie set I had picked out and was now wearing.

I watch the boy's reactions intently hoping I didn't get the wrong idea with everything.

"Fuck," I hear Lando mutter with wide eyes while Oscar is just observing the way it looked on me with a slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

"Look so good baby," Oscar finally speaks up while taking a step towards me and pulling me into him while placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Okay, good! I was worried I was getting the wrong idea and it was only a one-off thing," I admit softly making Lando laugh as he steps behind me keeping me sandwiched between both of the boys.

As Lando is kissing my neck we are interrupted when I hear one of our phones go off making Lando groan and find the culprit.

"Your father always finds a way to piss me off," Lando says while handing my phone to show me that my dad, his boss was calling making me laugh while answering.

"Hey! How is your solo vacation going?" My dad asked through the phone making the boys smirk at me when they realize I had told my dad I was taking a solo trip.

"It's good! Just been enjoying the sun and a bit of shopping," I tell my dad as I watch Oscar get on his knees in front of me while Lando stands behind me.

Oscar pulls my lingerie to the side before taking a lick out of my soaked folds forcing me to hold back the moan I want to let out. I lean agaisnt Lando as Oscar picks up on my legs and lets it rest against his shoulder as he continues to eat me out as I talk to my dad about my trip. All being the truth of what I've been doing but keeping the fact that I'm with his two drivers a secret.

As the phone call is starting to wrap up I feel myself getting close to the edge making me try to push Oscar away not wanting to have an orgasm while on the phone with my dad.

"Alright, well I'll let you enjoy the rest of your week! Love you kid, I'll call tomorrow," I hear my dad tells me making me sign in relief.

"Love you too dad! Talk to you tomorrow," I rush out before ending the call and falling over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

"Fuck, Osc!" I cry out as I let my orgasm wash over me. I feel Oscar slip two of his fingers into my pussy not letting me come down from my orgasm fully before he is finger fucking my sensitive pussy almost instantly pulling a squirting orgasm out of me. I can feel my orgasm soaking everything near me, leaving me shaking in Lando's arms as Oscar continues to finger me through my orgasm.

"Fuck!" I scream out getting overwhelmed with the pleasure coursing through.

"I love making this pretty pussy squirt," Oscar groans while slipping his fingers out of me before standing up and pulling Lando in for a heated kiss making my knees grow weak at the two secret lovers express themselves truely.

"She tastes divine," Lando says when Oscar pulls away licking his lips for show. I can feel my face growing hot at the sight but can't deny the dull throb coursing through me.

I turn around allowing myself to face Lando before pulling Oscar to stand close to Lando before I sink onto my knees and start pulling off the boy's pants before taking both of their cocks into my hands.

"Fuck, she's such a well trained whore for us," Lando says while smirking at Oscar.

"Imagine her father saw her now. On her knees like a proper trained slut for us to use," Oscar says back to Lando making me whine at the teasing words.

I lean down and take Oscar into my mouth making him hiss at the feeling of my wet lips wrapping around his sensitive cock.

"Fuck," He groans when I start bobbing my head but quickly pull away and start giving Lando the same treatment while jerking Oscar off. I repeat this process a few times until Lando pulls me up by my hair and leads me to the bed where he pushes me onto it letting my back hit the matteress while he spreads my legs.

"Damn, be gentle! I'm not unbreakable," I tease with an eye roll making Oscar look at me with a cocked brow.

"Watch the attitude," Lando replies back.

"Make me," I reply back with a faint smirk on my face knowing it was just gonna rial him up. I feel Lando slipping the bottoms of my lingerie set off before roughly shoving his cock into my pussy leaving me no time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck, Lando so good," I moan loudly when I can feel Lando's large cock repetitively hit my sweet spots only he and Oscar had ever been able to find.

"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you," Lando teases while still fucking me at the brutal pace.

I can feel my next orgasm start approaching when lando slipped out of my cock and flipped us over so I was now riding his cock while Oscar slips behind us rubbing his fingers along my asshole leaving behind a cool gel I assume is lube.

"Fuck," I gasp when I feel Oscar's fingers slip into my ass stretching me out further.

"I'm gonna cum," I moan when Oscar and Lando start thrusting at the exact same time. I feel myself starting to cumm all over Lando's cock and Oscar's fingers.

I haven't even come down from the last orgasm when I feel the tip of Oscar's cock start pushing into my ass making me whimper. I had been so lost in my pleasure I didn't even notice him slipping his fingers out of my ass.

"Relax," Oscar whispers into my ear before he moves my hair to the side and starts kissing my neck. Lando has stopped his thrusting and started rubbing my clit softly trying to get me to relax enough to fully take both of their cocks at the same time.

"Fuck," I scream out when I feel Oscar bottom out in my ass fully stretching me to a whole new level.

"It's too mcuh," I cry trying to climb out of their laps but Lando gently holds me down.

"Relax sweet girl," Lando tells me while bringing his fingers back to my clit and rubbing circles. I could feel another orgasm starting to build almost instantly with how stimulated being compltetly full made me.

"Move slowly Osc," Lando grunts when he cn feel my pussy flutter around him with an approaching orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck fuck," I start moan chanting while Oscar is slowly rocking his hips in and out of me trying to allow me to get used to the stretch before fully fucking me.

When I feel Lando start thrusting up into me I can't help but start to cry at how overwhelming the pleasure has become.

"Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Lando grunts out making me look down to see the bulge every time he fucks up into me.

"Fuck, we stretched her so much we made room in her tummy," Oscar groans while looking over my shoulder to see the bulge Lando was creating.

"Oh fuck," I scream out when Lando brings his fingers back to my clit throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Fuck, soaking us again," Lando said with a smirk as I continue to squirt all over him and some of the back splashes hitting Oscar too.

With one final thrust into my ass I feel Oscar start to unlesh his hot cum in my ass making me whimper at the feeling. When he slips out of my ass I gasp at the feeling of his cum leaking from a hole I had never had cum leak out of.

"Fuck, she's so tight," Lando groans even without Oscar seated in my ass Lando was still being tightly hugged by my pussy walls.

I feel Lando start to pick up his pace clearly getting closer to the edge before he lifts and drops me down on his cock one final time before unleashing a massive load deep into my pussy making me moan.

When he's come down from his high he slowly slips out of me. Oscar comes bear us almost instantly with a warm rag where he cleans me off first before cleaning Lando off and climbing into bed on my other side.

Once we where all comfortable I start running my fingers through Lando’s hair as Oscar runs his fingers up my hips.

“That was perfect,” I announce softly making Lando give us a lazy smile a nod.

“Did so good for us! Took us so well,” Oscar says while kissing my cheek and leaning past me and giving Lando a quick soft kiss.

“We want you to be our,” Oscar announces softly making me turn my head towards him.

“Really? I would love that,” I reply back softly before pulling Oscar in for a proper kiss before turning back to Lando and kissing him.

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borkunlimited · 2 months ago

Text

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 8

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Angst, Predator/Prey

TW: Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Guns, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dissociation, Trauma, Blood, Cursing

Chapter Summary: The more fierce the action, a more extreme reaction. He had long abandoned his scales but he would gladly become a monster to ward off trespassers that would enter your forest. When dawn arrives, would you see your dragon in the horizon?

Author's Note: This went through so much revisions and I had to talk to my beta reader many times about how certain scenes should go. (I just have ridiculously high standards.) Many parts in this chapter had transformed from what I have in mind, mostly for cohesion but I am quite satisfied because I still managed to retain the canon events I set.

To everyone, thank you for reading. Your comments make me smile and while I do write for myself, I never regret the day I shared this to the world.

Tagging: @phisen @wrimaira

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

8: My Dearest, Enduring

A population of less than 50.

Louis knows the little community of prey hybrids residing here in this corner of the N109 zone basically know each other and everyone, to his surprise, is very cordial with the predator hybrids who come by to shop and buy artisan goods.

Good.

The residents here are good people.

He doesn’t really know there is a community here after becoming the head of this organization composed of lion hybrids and since then, he had made up his mind that protecting the residents here should be a top priority.

A hypocrite, Louis knows he is one having been raised in one of the more fortunate prey hybrids who taught him how to play with the rules the humans had set and it is only because he is rebelling against his father that he realized not all hybrids are as lucky as he is.

Perhaps he is even more of a hypocrite every time he reminds each resident here to be wary of the predator hybrids they welcome in their homes like friends because he had grown to respect the rowdy group of lion hybrids that followed his every command.

Even then, his worries are heard and the older prey hybrids understand his concerns except for the younger ones and one of them is you.

You were so polite.

Polite on telling him off and you weren’t even sarcastic, you are just so blatantly honest.

“Thank you, Mister Louis but Skye likes his food cooked so I am sure the rumor isn’t true.”

It was amusing, hilarious even how you brushed off his warning just like that but even then, Louis had already made up his mind to watch over you and this community no matter how stubborn some of you can be.

“The tailor shop owner is on the line.”

“The old deer?”

“Yeah, he is asking if we can drop by and check on his daughter,” the older lion hybrid holding the phone answered, covering the receiver to keep the conversation between them, his eyes flicking at the clock nearby.

It would be a miracle if your father can catch the last train back and any taxi drivers charge anyone who wants to go at the N109 zone with exorbitant prices.

“Can’t he just ask his son-in-law for that?”

“I don’t think they have any relatives- Wait, you mean Sylus ?”

“Who else? That dragon is coming there almost everyday that the miss and him might as well be married.”

The older lion hybrid laughed at the young deer’s remark but relented, answering your father that Sylus would be the better alternative but his smile turned into a frown as he continued to listen to the other line.

“What’s wrong?”, Louis asked, his brows furrowed and the lion hybrid put down the phone after telling your father they would come check.

“He said Sylus isn’t answering.”

“Must be out there smuggling god knows what.”

“Are you sure? Because he said he called the shop again just now and his daughter didn’t answer.”

The curtains of the open window billowed against the cold breeze, a silence settling inside the office.

“And then I thought that son of a bitch is down bad-”, Louis mumbled, grabbing his coat hanging on the nearby armchair and the older lion hybrid did the same, their footsteps thudding against the hardwood floor.

Did Sylus manage to deceive everyone here?

No.

No, Louis saw how that man held you before you two went out yesterday. Both of you were the talk of the community, no, the entire N109 zone. The little display of affection where Sylus spun you around like both of you were newly-weds had turned everyone’s heads and people are convinced that you were able to do the impossible.

The unthinkable.

In your hand, Sylus had willingly placed his leash for you to hold and Louis doubts that you even know it.

As Louis took his place in the passenger seat in front, he silently prayed that your father was simply an overprotective parent tonight.

But, when he gazed at his reflection in the side mirror, a quiet thought passed in his head-

-Something even more dangerous is lurking in a place already crawling with beasts and oddly enough, a small voice is telling him it isn’t Sylus.

────────────────────

The little baseball team always loves watching the evening cartoon reruns on the old television your father placed on the receiving area of your old shop.

They were such tall hybrid children for their age and oddly enough, they all managed to huddle together in front of the small screen, their attention towards the little pink dog hybrid and his adoptive human grandmother.

A small gasp, sometimes a burst of laughter, and then they will be quiet again as the show goes on.

It was one hour after your old shop closed when he came by and you found it odd that the people who follow him around are not here with him. He first greeted the children who just murmured a polite ‘Hello’ and ‘Good evening’ but their eyes had always remained guarded before going back to their show.

His attention never always linger longer at anyone else.

It was always at you.

Every little step you take away from him, he tries to close the distance even further and his distorted voice is becoming angrier by the second until his grip around your wrist was too much to handle, your eyes blurry because of the pain.

“I’ll watch over you until you die. Why can’t you understand that?”

Even to this day, you never understood why he was fascinated by you.

The reel of that old and distant memory ended with your cry for help, small, so small followed by your favorite little baseball players shouting in anger and then the tape ended abruptly, a film with no conclusive ending. You have left that tape with everything including the ashes and the scent of fire together with the concrete pillars of your old shop that remained standing.

In the old cinema hidden in the deep recesses of your mind, you have returned as the sole audience of the only film showing and the main actress is no other than-

The defenseless deer hybrid wearing your face with tear stained cheeks.

Why did she (you) scream? To try to warn her (your) dear crow friend to not try to go near the mass of black threads or else it will never fly again but it did not listen.

Why are there tears on her (your) face? Because his hold on her (your) wrist hurts, the gun she (you) hastily tried to hold is now lying on the floor.

Why is she (are you) praying? Because there must be a way out of this hell, for heaven to not punish him anymore if that is what it takes to just to let her (you) go.

“Did you think you are like them now just because you know how to shoot, branches?”

You always play hard to get.

At least, that’s what he thinks. The more you stay away, the more he gets annoyed.

Shy. Skittish. Wary.

You little deer hybrid.

Common.

So relatively common and there are so many of you but he just can’t help being attracted to you even when you always keep your damn eyes on your shoes.

He and his group kept you safe so why can’t you stay put? Why did you have to scream like he is the monster here?

He came prepared this time, making sure you are alone. Just outside your shop are other humans armed to the teeth, capable, and one ridiculously strong predator hybrid such as that brute you just kissed goodbye a few hours ago can only handle so much.

How is it you chose Sylus of all people, a hideous beast, over a human?

“Stop crying.”

His command echoed across the old theater together with your cries of trying to run towards the only exit but no matter how hard you push your legs, you stay on the same spot, the distance between you and the exit unchanging and you wonder if it is a crime to say no that the heavens decided to grant a cruel punishment on you, forever trapped in a loop.

“I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

A low warning and the human holding you down froze for a moment, the cold barrel of the gun on the back of his head but the hand holding the weapon trembled just slightly and he smirked as he slowly raised his hands, letting you go.

“I wouldn’t even count that as an option.”

“But I do.”

“What is it with you prey hybrids thinking you are all capable of holding a weapon?”

“I am surprised myself,” Louis replied, watching the man slowly turned around to face him, letting you go in the process and in the corner of his eyes, he can see you slowly walking away, reduced to a shambling fawn and cradling the crow with the broken wing, your only source of warmth and even then, wounded little beings can only offer each other comfort and nothing more.

When they arrived a block away from your shop, Louis was bracing himself for the inevitable, to see one of Sylus’ expensive cars parked right in front with the lights of your shop all out, the crack of bones and blood but they were all welcomed with an unexpected surprise.

The car plates.

Bullet proof vests and rifles.

Humans.

It was luck alone that Louis managed to sneak in through the back door of your shop with the rest of his companions making small talk with the friends the human brought along.

“You should be grateful we are the first one to come over,” Louis added, his eyes trained at the human’s hands, “Sylus does not bargain when it is her on the line.”

“Then he will learn.”

“He is already wanted for several crimes. Do you really think he would give a shit if a new line is added to the list?”

“He will if the crime wasn’t his.”

The male deer hybrid’s brows furrowed, confused and his eyes wandered briefly on where you were standing earlier.

The gun he gifted you on the floor.

The feathers of that crow who uses your antlers as a perch.

The cuts around the human’s eyes, bleeding.

“Do you see it now? I hope his pretty little deer knows what happens when abominations like you lays a finger on someone like me,” the human grinned and it only grew further while he watched the look of realization dawn on the deer hybrid’s face.

If he can’t have you, then no one can. Even fucking Sylus.

“Sylus will negotiate, or he would have to say goodbye to the little miss seamstress over here. Do you understand, brat?”, the human continued, stepping closer until the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead.

Everyone knows Sylus can pay every high ranking official in the government.

He can pay the police to turn a blind eye on this.

He can pay the judge to rule down this accusation.

He can pay the jury almost composed of all humans to vote for your favor.

But he can never pay the overzealous humans who just need one reason to burn down your homes, your businesses, to throw rocks at your windows-

To take every part that makes you a hybrid.

They would come here. Oh they would, and you will be the first one whose head will be in the silver platter.

But all of that will only be possible if the human manages to leave the N109 zone alive.

The paper the human slipped on his breast pocket is heavy, heavier than the gun he kept pointing at where the human was standing even when he already left, the chimes of your doors announcing his departure.

────────────────────

Luke and Kieran always set a portion of their allowance for candy and anything sweet much to Sylus’ disapproval.

Not that they have an addiction, it was mostly because the scent brings a sense of comfort, of a childhood lost then slowly regained, and they recently found out that the treats always taste sweeter when shared.

One of the benefits of having your noses tinkered by humans is that you don’t have to pull out your phone anymore to check where the nearest bakery or candy shop is.

They just have to take a deep breath, shift through the many scents that permeate where they are standing and follow the distinct smell of freshly baked pastries or caramelized sugar.

A yellow brick road and the two wolf cubs weave past the crowd of hybrids and humans who cast them odd looks, mistaking their excitement for manic obsession for something else.

Their favorite sheep hybrid once told them predator hybrids off their rockers wear the same expression when they caught the scent of a terrified prey hybrid’s papercut.

Those hybrids, the worst of the worst, are locked up far, far away from humans and hybrids always say the same thing.

They even taste better when they are scared.

Luke always played it off but it is a thought that lingers in Kieran’s mind, the memory of that stained handkerchief lives almost rent free and comes back during the early mornings while waiting for sleep.

“Let me in.”

It wasn’t a request, a command coming out of the boss’ mouth when the oldest lion hybrid stood between him and the door of your shop.

Kieran knows everyone can smell it.

Every predator hybrid outside your shop practically covered their noses at this point and he and his brother not only covered theirs but their mouths too because-

-They were drooling.

His brother holds onto the railings of your shop and if they weren’t in the company of other people and Sylus, he is sure Luke is going to vomit out his dinner.

“Do I need to repeat myself or do I have to move you out of my way?”

“You, of all people, should know what happens if a predator hybrid like yourself comes near a terrified hybrid such as her.”

“I am well-aware,” Sylus answered, his resolve firm and his eyes trained directly at the lion hybrid, “Now step aside and do not take my words as suggestions.”

There was a pause, the old hybrid blocking his way to you scrutinizing him for any telltale signs of a predator ready to hunt and even with the scent of fear settling in the cold night air, inviting anyone with sharp teeth to this forbidden supper, and he noticed one thing.

Sylus’ pupils were not even dilated like the rest right now.

A dragon hybrid’s senses are far more superior than a lion but here is Sylus, not even slightly bothered and it is only because of his age that he is able to pick up a subtle hint of worry on the dragon hybrid’s eyes.

The older lion hybrid took his word this time and opened the door for him which granted him a nod of approval from Sylus.

“Luke, Kieran.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Open the windows. That human stink is everywhere.”

The twins looked at each and then pulled the neck scarves you have sewn for them over their noses before wearing their masks back, following their boss inside.

The human is lucky he arrived a minute later because Sylus would not hesitate to show how serious he is when it comes to your well-being.

It was an affront, a clear disrespect to his precious deer and even until now, that human stink is trying to blend with the scent of cotton and wildflowers.

No, blend is a kinder term.

It is trying to force itself onto it.

It all concentrated at your front desk and he stood there, his mind reconstructing what took place as he bent down to pick up the gun he assumed you dropped, his eyes lingering on the droplets of blood.

It isn’t yours.

It’s from that insolent human.

“That crow of yours tried to pick out his eyes.”

It was a quiet voice but it resounded through the entire room and Sylus turned around to see that male deer hybrid standing next to the stairs leading to the second floor of your house.

“And did it manage to blind him?”

Sylus initially thought this upstart’s words are empty, flowery phrases to earn the trust of the other prey hybrids but he had proved him wrong.

“If your bird’s wing weren’t broken, the human would be carrying his own eyes on his way out.”

Louis watched Sylus took measured strides to approach him but this time, the subtle animosity between them from before is set aside in favor of you.

The stairs ahead of them looms, the path that used to be warm and inviting when Sylus made his way of your little game of hide and seek earlier is now an entrance to a dark forest even the sunlight refuses to penetrate, your home shielding you from the prying eyes and if it can, it will keep you forever, away from the hunters and their dogs.

“The human had already placed a price for his silence,” Louis began, pulling out the folded paper on his breast pocket and passing it to Sylus, “He is open to negotiate but we both know he wants full compliance.”

“I do not concede against the demands of a trespasser especially right now.”

“That trespasser may not see eye to eye with his fellow humans but they will hear him out if he points his finger at her.”

“What’s your proposal? Give everything he wants free of charge, pat him on the back and let him be on his way?”

“No, I am just passing his words to you,” Louis answered, then glanced at Sylus who briefly scanned the paper he had handed before passing it to one of the twins, “If you want my opinion-”

There was a pause.

“-I would say stories don’t hold much weight if there is no one to tell it.”

It would be an unfair trial if you stand against the court of law mostly run by humans.

How many friends did the human bring along? Too many based on their scent that still lingered. Too many people that would bend the truth until it is unrecognizable, reversing the roles of the actual victim and the criminal.

Even then, they don’t need to do that. People had already passed judgment without hearing you out.

It would be your words against an insolent human.

Your silence would be taken as acceptance for your crimes, your cries would be treated as crocodile tears.

“The abandoned warehouse will meet with an unfortunate accident later tonight,” Sylus answered, slowly making his way up to you and then he turned to look down at Louis, “Those who are inside were not able to call for help in time.”

Only humans negotiate. Monsters like him don’t.

A silent agreement passed between them, a plan, and Louis watched Sylus skipped the fifth step of your stairs.

Sylus would gladly wield the needle on your behalf, to sew together a tapestry of lies so carefully knitted that he will use it to cover you, to shield you from those who would take you from here, from your new home.

────────────────────

“You’ll always be alone.”

It was before the sun broke from the horizon when an older dragon spoke to Sylus before, watching their reflections against the gentle flow of the stream.

Sylus had snapped both of his horns, his tail was short back then, easy to hide behind the thick coat and he practiced his laughs and smiles enough for his lips not to reveal the unusually sharp canines.

All those efforts, just so he can play with those human and prey hybrid children he always sees beyond the treeline where their group is staying-

No, hiding.

He was angry at the older dragon back then.

What’s wrong with wanting friends? He wanted the same thing those humans and lucky hybrids have.

His room always became a theater during the evening, the memories are old films that persist despite the dust that settled, and he is the lone audience.

That memory always stood out before.

You’ll always be alone.

The older dragon wasn’t mocking him.

The older dragon wasn’t even talking to him.

The older dragon was talking to his own reflection.

What did his kind do to merit such treatment? Must there always be a price for everything he cherished with his heart? Why would his nightmares refuse to stay in the realm of the unconscious?

“Sweetie?”

His voice was soft through the wooden door of your room, his hand on the handle. The sweet scent of cotton and wildflowers was almost comforting if not for the undercurrent of terror, fear, and most of all-

-Sadness.

Your answer is only a quiet sob, so soft as if making sure no one would hear even the tears that touch the hardwood floor of your room.

Sylus was hesitant at first but he slowly turned the handle of your door and through the small gap, the trail of Mephisto’s feathers led inside your cabinet.

“I am sorry I am only good at sewing.”

Mephisto’s beeps were distorted, even with its damaged voice box, Sylus knows it is still trying to comfort you, telling you it suffered worse.

You have always found Daisy an odd little crow. Too smart, too observant and its exposed wirings finally revealed why but it is still your friend, badly hurt and your needle and thread won’t be able to fix it.

Your crow friend rested its head on your chest, cawing softly and it is only when your blurry eyes landed on the silhouette standing just outside the cabinet both you and Daisy were inside that you trembled violently.

“Daisy didn’t mean to,” you pleaded, “Daisy’s a good bird-”

No, begged.

You begged through the wooden panels of your cabinet thinking he is the human who welcomed himself in your own home.

Is Sylus angry?

No, there is a better word to describe the wrath that is simmering under the surface of his collected self, close to breaking loose and it was simply because he doesn’t want to terrify you with acts of aggression reserved only for those who are deserving that he held himself together.

“I know, sweetie.”

There was a pause, your sobs coming to a sudden halt and weakly, you called out his name, the sound so fragile but he would always recognize your voice even among the crowd.

It was enough of a reason for him to slowly open the door of your cabinet, crouching down and bracing himself for the inevitable heartbreak, suffering. Suddenly he is the most powerless man alive, the only comfort he can provide is to hold you close and even then, it will never be enough to lighten each drop of your tears, each single tear heavier than the weight of this wide and uncaring world.

Suffering is never a foreign concept in his life, bullets wounds and cuts were painful more so are insults, and when he thought something finally beautiful had taken root in his life, the storm looms on the horizon, threatening to pull it from the soil.

“Skye,” you repeated, your face buried against his chest until you slowly looked up to him.

“Daisy’s-”, you stuttered and you slowly revealed to him his companion that is worse for wear, “Daisy’s broken, Skye. I don’t know how-”

“I’ll put our friend back together, little doe.”

“I tried to warn Daisy, Skye, I tried to do what you taught me-”

“You were the bravest girl, sweetheart. The bravest I have ever known.”

“I am not-”, you shook your head sadly, looking down at his fingers grazing at the exposed wirings of your beloved crow and to your wrist still red, “Brave girls are strong. Brave girls don’t let other men touch them like that-”

You didn’t even land a scratch on that human.

“His hands were-” you continued, your next words incomprehensible as you clutched his shirt, “I didn’t like it but he said I was lying.”

Sylus didn’t say anything but he understood each word as he listened to you pour out all of your grievances, all the heartache and he rubbed one of his horns against one of your antlers, a gesture you found soothing as he waited for your heart to slowly return to its steady rhythm, the scent of fear slowly dissipating.

He wanted to kiss your tears away yet he knew he had lost that right when he came here a minute later.

But he will earn it back.

Each drop of tear he tallied, each apology that isn’t supposed to come from you he counted, and in the darkness of your room only lit by the distant moon, this little corner of paradise mourns with you.

It was when you quieted down that he carefully gathered you in his arms and every step he made while he made his way back to his car parked at the entrance of the shop together with the twins, his resolve only grew stronger.

Sylus eats his enemies alive.

Sylus doesn’t leave any survivors.

Sylus is a man that takes without remorse.

Each rumors echo in his mind and oh, they are baseless claims, false accusations he did not bother to deny. Insignificant but it served his reputation well.

It doesn’t matter, he would normally tell himself.

Until now.

Tonight, he wouldn’t be the man of many rumors.

Tonight, he would make those whispers grow into terrified screams.

Tonight, he would live up to each and every one of them.

The dawn will break tomorrow and Sylus will make sure only ashes would remain by then and it would end with his triumph.

Very soon, sorrows will plague you no more.

────────────────────

“We’re alone because we look hideous.”

Sylus is not the most well-mannered boy when he was young and he will never forget how the frown of the older dragon reflected in the surface of the running stream at his answer.

Pointed horns. Sharp canines. Tail.

All they are missing are hooves for feet to complete the look of a demon he sees in pictures of old fairytale books.

No matter how many stories the older dragon hybrids told over the small campfire of the days where they used to soar the sky without fearing of being shot down, those who lost the feud had already lost their right to say their side of the story.

The only benefit of being given the role of villain by default is you have no one to please but yourself.

He knows every choice he makes will culminate to a bad ending anyways, a sad note.

The last dragon, alone on top of his treasures, will draw his last breath and then finally, maybe he will understand why that older dragon is looking at the reflection of the sky in the stream.

It has been a self-fulfilling prophecy, one that he prayed fervently for it to change during the long nights and in the crossroads of his long journey, he had finally received a response and the answer is-

You leaned against him, holding on to the sleeve of the coat hanging on his shoulders, your gaze at his hands deftly repairing your crow friend in his lap.

The abandoned warehouse a few meters ahead from where the car is parked looms, lit by a few sodium lights with rotten shipping containers piled up on each other. The lightbulb of the small guardhouse flickered accompanied with the radio announcer’s voice, the night shift guard leaving in a haste after Sylus gestured him to leave through the open window of the car earlier.

“Sweetie, you and the twins will have to go somewhere for me.”

“Why can’t you come with us then?”

“I am going to have a talk with that human, miss seamstress, and I want you to be far away from here as soon as possible when I do.”

“That man?”

“Yes, that man,” Sylus answered and he watched Mephisto stand up, stretching its wings and flying out the window for a test flight. It was a quick fix but Sylus knows he had to a more extensive repair after this.

“Can I go with you?”

It was a silent question, and your ears drooped when he didn’t say anything, silently assessing your peculiar request.

“Sweetheart, I am afraid I won’t be able to indulge you on your request this time,” he answered, shaking his head and he removed the coat hanging from his shoulders, draping it over your petite frame.

“Just for tonight, little doe. Count this as me owing you a favor.”

“I don’t want you to owe me anything.”

“Then consider this as my duty as your protector. Something that I must do alone,” he replied, watching you lean against his hand when he traced the shape of your ear drooping. “Your dragon will fly back to you before the sun rises.”

Did those dragons in the paintings you saw with him also made the same promises to the people they love? Is that why they were called liars? That the word did not come from a place of disgust but anguish of a vow that met an abrupt end?

In this crossroad, is there why you have to say your goodbyes?

What can you do that this story will not end with a long, long, sigh? You can barely even use a firearm and if anything, you’re only good at sewing and cleaning.

Sylus smiled gently when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows, smoothing them out with his fingers and your eyes drifted on his sharp canines.

“My protector is too kind,” you finally answered and then you reached out to fix the good luck ribbon around his horn, “If he doesn’t mind, can I ask for another request?”

“Then what is it that my bravest little doe wants?”

His breath hitched when you undo the first two buttons of your blouse, pulling the cloth just enough to expose your skin, his eyes tracing the slope of your neck.

A vial of prey hybrid’s blood can sell for so much in the black market. An option you almost considered when you lost your shop in the fire back at Bloomshore District.

Every predator hybrid has one, at least that’s what the rumors said.

A small indulgence but mostly because it enhances their physical abilities, and even when you believe he doesn’t need one, this is the only solution you know that would greatly benefit him especially when ahead of him are humans you are sure would harm him just like how they culled his kind.

Just like how they hurt you.

“Don’t let a single drop go to waste, alright?”

“Are you sure about what you are offering-”

You silenced him with a gentle press of your fingers against his lips, a gentle smile on your face.

There is no room for doubt, that he is sure, and you are not going to take a no for an answer this time when you pull him closer to you, tilting your head up for him.

Of course, Sylus had always dreamt of sinking his teeth on your neck but certainly not hard enough that his sharp fangs would break the skin and certainly not in this situation.

Yet, you are always one who is clear with your wishes.

“I want to be with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Breathe. He inhaled sharply before holding you closer and the scent of cotton and wildflowers almost clouded his senses, his tongue darting out to lick the supple skin while looking for a suitable spot to nip.

(You wanted to bolt but you won’t allow your deer side to take precedence.)

Bite. His canines sank on your skin and his heart raced in a rapid staccato, a dizzying concerto as he groaned in satisfaction against your trembling body, your hands holding his shirt tightly and a quiet sob escaped your lips.

(He wanted to take a piece of your flesh but he won’t allow his dragon side to overcome him.)

Taste. He had always considered the prey hybrid black market barbaric but every predator hybrid who tried the blood of a prey hybrid says it tastes like vintage wine, the finest among the collection but yours is different, completely unique.

(An exchange, a mutual understanding, and blood of the sacred deer is the offering of this long-awaited union.)

If pure love has a flavor then it would be-

White rabbit milk candy.

You will be the first and last, the only hybrid he would partake in, and even then, the gods must be laughing at the sheer absurdity of a carnivore not pouncing on a prey’s throat but Sylus is going to make sure he will return to your side.

Not all meetings have beautiful endings but your story and his has always been one of a kind.

His tongue swiped over the bite mark and then he pulled away, making sure to button your blouse for you and even with his head slightly bowed down, you can see his pupils dilated and his attempts on making his breath steady.

“You’re a good dragon,” you said quietly and he smiled when you kissed his cheek.

“Good dragons don’t burn down cities for their sweethearts, darling deer,” he answered and he pushed the gun he picked up from your shop earlier to your hands.

Just a safety precaution as you and twins make your way to the safehouse he directed them to bring you to and he let out a quiet sigh when he heard the twins tap through the tinted windows of the car.

“It’s time for me to leave, Miss Deer.”

You reach out to fix the collar of his shirt, adjusting the silver accessory to stay in its proper place.

“Take care, Mister Dragon.”

The ribbon you have tied on his horn swayed against the night breeze after he stepped out of the car, the door closing behind him and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick the remaining blood on the corner of his lips.

With your blood running in his veins, the world will be yours and more.

────────────────────

“Did anyone tell you that you are too overconfident for someone who is the last of his kind?”

Sylus approached the human sitting at the center of the warehouse, not slightly bothered by his insult and his tail swishing lazily while his eyes roamed around his surroundings, mentally counting each human equipped with an assortment of firearms.

Perhaps negotiation is a more recent term to describe a trap.

As always, the two wolf cubs did not disappoint, the numbers they provided were always on the mark.

A small army.

“I do not see the need to bring anyone with me tonight.”

He answered, taking a seat across the human and then crossing his legs. His eyes narrowed slightly when he caught the remnants of your scent that clung to the human’s clothes.

The human studied him before speaking, taking note that the coat that always hangs on Sylus’ shoulders is missing. His hair is slightly disheveled and there is a little detail that made his smirk grow back.

Sylus came here unarmed.

“In a rush, Sylus? Did my gift catch you off-guard?”

“Gift? Is that what you call packages such as those these days?”

“I prefer to call it a reminder. Your precious seamstress wouldn’t be hiding in this dump you call your empire with her father if she didn’t play hard-to-get.”

“Or if you learned to take no at its face value,” Sylus answered, watching the human’s face soured and his eyes flickered at the human tapping his finger on the armchair.

The more he looks at this beast, the more he detests Sylus further.

He was supposed to be in the advantage here. Didn’t Sylus knows he holds your fate in his hands? How is it then that he walked here as if this is just one of his business meetings?

“I came here all the way as you requested,” Sylus continued, his voice betraying nothing, “So tell me your price yourself.”

Greed. This human stink of greed and desire out of everyone inside this room and it only grew when he asked his question.

“Oh, I am very easy to please,” the human grinned, and his finger tapped faster on the armchair, “A monthly deposit of a ten million in local currency, a monthly shipment of firearms and ammunition, and-”

The human let his words hang in the air and Sylus had to resist the urge of rolling his eyes, his tail twitching in annoyance.

This one has a flare of dramatics, doesn't he? It is almost hilarious as if he is watching one of those stage comedies held by those students at one of the universities he is a sponsor to.

“-Her antlers.”

And people call him a monster.

“Is that all of your demands?”

The human nodded, practically drooling just at the thought of those majestic branches that grow from your head that you shed every winter. You and your father kept them hidden at the back of your old shop, a tradition the deer hybrids uphold, and before they started the fire, he made sure to secure yours first.

Oh, they were just so pretty and they still smell like you if he puts his nose close enough even after all these years.

Sylus didn’t answer, smiling coldly and he scanned his surroundings for one last time, deciding he had heard enough.

This sick bastard.

Then, Sylus laughed.

He laughed carelessly, even when the human in front of him and his men were taken back and he continued to laugh until his voice filled the wide expanse of the warehouse

“You trespassed my empire even if I sent you and your people on your way last time and now you are demanding a share of my fortune and my firearms,” Sylus said, his laughter slowly coming into a halt, “And you thought I would willingly give my sweetheart’s antlers she loves so much to you? To you of all people?”

He slowly rose from his seat and all guns were immediately pointed towards him, his tail flicking in anticipation.

“Stay where you are-”

“You are not in the position of giving me orders.”

“You’re outnumbered, you’re unarmed-”

“You should have listened more to those little fairy tales you humans made yourselves.”

There was a roar, enough to shake the earth, and among the small army of mercenaries and loyal bodyguards that the human had brought with him, his face was the palest as their eyes slowly looked up from where Sylus is standing to what is now standing in his place.

Wings so wide, it will blacken the sun- An omen.

Claws so sharp, it can tear through the thickest metals- A catastrophe.

Maw so large, everything that will go inside of it will disappear- An apocalypse.

The pain did not register in the human’s head when the dragon bit almost half of his arm off his body and it was only through the adrenaline that the human managed to roll to the floor in time because the beast was aiming for his head next.

“Fuck!”, the human screamed in pain and pointed at the dark abomination before them, “Shoot him! Aim for his eyes.”

Sylus had long abandoned this form, even back then as a child. The few remaining older dragons who raised him had always looked up, their hands reaching for the heavens once again but never did.

Times have changed. When your kind is culled, you would do anything to survive.

Horns, tail, claws, teeth, wings, scales.

They have no place in this modern world.

These features were traded for firearms and his bare fists and they just became an accessory, a reminder to anyone his kind is still here but barely.

For you, he will wear this atrocious form.

His roars were earthquakes, bullets barely penetrating his scales and the closest wound they could ever inflict on him is when they managed to shoot one of his horns, shattering it.

When did the animosity between the humans and dragon hybrids started?

The embers of this feud still remained, flickering and even when Sylus had tried to search for answers, he never discovered what sin so unforgivable his kind did that everything in this world had conspired for his happiness to be fleeting and every word shouts and screams of horror made him greedy for more, the fire around him growing larger.

Here he is, the product of all desires and hate the dragons had harbored for all years of being hunted and your tears is what broke his self-imposed curse of hiding this form.

No nice and friendly dragon would do this.

He is a wicked dragon, corrupt by all means, but he is yours.

Your blood coursing through his veins is his fuel together with every memory of you and even if the blood from the wound of his shattered horn is making his vision blurry, he refuses to stop even if he is tasting iron from the limbs and heads he had torn off.

“We are losing people here!”

“Throw more grenades at him!”

“Fuck, we are going to die here!”

The distant glow of the roaring flare reached the N109 zone and even the outskirts of every district nearby together with the smell of burnt meat and the shaking of the earth.

Let this be a final warning to anyone who would dare trespass in your home.

Sylus does not bargain when it comes to you.

────────────────────

You were a crybaby back then.

Your antlers were shorter before and the thin, warm glow of the light downstairs was a yellow thread, your guide towards your father who used to stay up all night making clothes.

Unable to sleep, you were his little assistant back then, and he smiled when he saw your ears poking just above the table you could barely reach.

Your first task was to put a thread through the eye of the needle. It was difficult and you pouted when you kept failing several times.

“Now, twig, if you cry too much, you won’t be able to see the eye of the needle now.”

It was only after several tries after blinking out the tears of frustration that you were able to finally manage to get it right and you handed the needle to him that you realize that if there is a thread connecting you and your father, it would be a warm color and ever since then, you always try to imagine what color is the thread that connects you to another person.

Yellow. The color connecting between you and your father, the same color as the tulips he always brings to you for your birthday.

Pink. That is the color you see for Luke and Kieran. The same color as the strawberry macarons they always bring to you and the three of you share while they let you examine the latest plushies they made.

Green. You even put a color for Daisy’s and while it brought you various colorful gems and flowers, you will never forget the time it brought you a four-leaf clover.

Then, finally-

You gazed through the tinted windows of the car, watching Skye talk with the twins and in a few moments, the distance between you and him will grow as he makes his way inside the warehouse.

Red. The same color as his eyes, the first bouquet of roses Mr. Sylus sent over, and the red wildflowers painted in the fields of your music box.

The red thread you are afraid will be snipped off because you aren’t good enough to fight.

Why did you want to go with Skye when the sheer presence of that human alone is enough for you to cower in a corner?

Because you want another chance and this time, you will not be the deer caught in the headlights.

No, you have to come close.

The closest you can to that human.

And when you do, you will cut the black thread that ties you to him.

Your footsteps barely make a sound at the smooth pavement, your hand sweeping at the cold metal of the shipping containers while you make your way closer to the warehouse. Every now and then, an occasional light will flicker in this labyrinth of towering metal.

From a distance, you can hear the twins’ calling out your name, their tone becoming more worried and you shiver against the cold breeze, pulling the coat hanging on your shoulders tight against you.

It was almost similar to your dragon’s warm embrace.

Even when he isn’t here, the scent that clung on his coat seemed to say otherwise and a sense of security almost washed over you until you were reminded of your farewells earlier.

If you were born as a predator hybrid, would you be fighting alongside him right now?

If you were born a fighter, would your old shop still be standing today?

If you pulled the trigger just on time, would your tears stop spilling?

Your knees buckled down and you leaned against the shipping container, the gun in your hand is cold and heavy yet you wrap your fingers around the handle firmly, the muzzle touching your forehead.

Holding the gun like this is like praying.

Would a part of you that you let Skye take be enough? You prayed it would be but prayers will always be just dandelion seeds carried by the wind, wisps of fragile dreams.

A familiar weight pushed on your shoulder and you smiled, putting down the gun and glancing at your crow friend. The shadows are enough to cover the exposed metal and wiring on its wing and it gives you a soft beep.

We should leave.

It tried to pull the small braid on the side of your face gently and when it didn’t work, it went for your skirt this time, any parts of your clothes, gesturing you to go back from where you came but you only shook your head.

“I don’t want to run anymore, Daisy.”

Not running.

Mephisto’s caws are lost to you, trying to reason with you but your ears unable to understand its words and it is growing frustrated at every tug but you refuse to move, your eyes trained at the boarded up windows of the warehouse further up ahead. It is awfully quiet, the only sound you heard was the warehouse door closing a few minutes ago.

Seeing that it is taking so much to convince you, Mephisto gives you one last look before flying to where the twins are, a few shipping containers behind, both jumping from one container to another, looking for you from above.

“I can’t smell her.”

Luke complained and Kieran nodded, their eyes taking in the dark surroundings searching for your familiar form. One heart beating too fast was already nerve wracking but being able to sense his twin’s as well? Kieran doesn’t know how they are both alive with how much they are worried right now.

Hell froze over when they opened the car only to find you were not there after watching the boss go to the warehouse and they had suspicion you most likely ran off to follow the boss but the question is-

Why?

Is it innate for every prey hybrid to flee when they are backed against the corner? To blindly run until you believe you are no longer in danger?

“What, bird?”, Kieran asked, watching Mephisto perched on his shoulder and it let out a beep.

It found you.

There you are, a few meters ahead of them, the boss’ coat hanging on your shoulders and they finally understood why they can’t pick up your scent.

The boss’ scent interlaced with yours, a perfect harmony and a cover. Any predator hybrid who would want to look for you will be thrown off your tracks.

Even if the boss is not by your side, he took all the measures he could to protect you.

They both landed in front of you, their tails wagging slightly when you looked up to smile at them.

“Miss, you shouldn’t be running away like that.”

“Yeah, not a good time for pranking, you know?”

“I am sorry,” you answered, and your gaze moved to one of the doors of the warehouse. The only entrance and exit because the rest was also boarded up. “I just want to-”

What do you want to do?

See your dragon step out of the warehouse without any scratch?

Sever the thread connecting you and the human who had given himself the title of hero of this story?

End this nightmare?

“Hey, it’s okay, miss,” Kieran started, sensing you are about to cry again, reaching out to embrace you and his brother did the same, their tails wagging, “Didn’t we tell you? You already have us and the boss looking after you.”

There was a caw.

“And the bird too,” Luke added, looking up to see Mephisto perch on your antlers, “It says it cares for you so much.”

Even if you lost everything in the fire of long ago, life still continued its symphony and something beautiful has taken root in the ashes of despair, something you want to see grow until it covers the landscape.

“Can’t we wait for him?”

“The boss? No, we really need to leave, miss.”

“It’s cold, you know, he doesn’t want you to get sick especially after you have been through,” Luke added to Kieran’s statement but you shook your head and the two looked at each other.

The boss had specifically asked them to bring you far from here and that they will even when you are oddly adamant on staying on this place they are sure the boss would raze to the ground.

Kieran was about to carry you when a roar cut through the silent night, enough for the shipping containers to shake.

“What was that?”, you asked, alarmed.

“Shit, we need to move her away here,” Luke muttered, shielding you together with his brother as the surroundings continue to shake and you can hear gunfire and roars from inside the warehouse.

Roars so furious they broke all the windows of the warehouse.

Roars so loud they herald the inferno that followed after.

Roars so violent they overpowered the screams inside.

“Don’t look.”

Luke covered your eyes with his hand and Kieran covered your ears but even their attempts to shield and comfort you is not enough, your eyes widening through the gap and your ears twitching against their hold.

The roaring flare intensifies, it eats anything on its path of rampage and it will only stop once dawn arrives, once black snow falls.

“He’s still in there-”

“Boss’ fine,” Kieran replied quietly, his gaze at the flames that continue to pick up. “But the humans? Not really.”

Beneath the frenzied roars was a thin layer of anguish and despair. Whoever is making them, they are in pain.

“The boss,” Luke added slowly, “He’s still just like you and me.”

He has been called a monster many times but his true heartbreak would be if the word comes from your mouth.

“I want to wait a little longer,” you murmured softly and they slowly let go of you, listening, “He must be tired. He might take a while if he has to fly back to us.”

Underneath their masks, a sigh of relief and a smile.

You really have spent too much time with them that the fearsome faces of predator hybrids don’t bother you so much.

Kieran was about to answer when his ears perked up, his nose picking up a distinct scent over the smell of burnt meat and ash.

That human stink.

It is the same human who welcomed himself inside your home.

Their gazes immediately move to the human who staggered outside the warehouse, the flames trying to reach him but barely.

“He won’t be alive for much longer,” Kieran commented, watching the trail of blood behind the human who is trying to stop his wound.

“He left his people inside? That’s quite pathetic, don’t you think?”, Luke added and he had to stifle a chuckle when he noticed Mephisto puffing up while perched on your antlers, as if wanting to square up with the human again.

The twins kept hurling insults upon insults, observing the human in amusement who is trying to shout for help in an empty field, trying to open the nearby cars he and his men most likely brought to get here.

There is no hope for him.

You should stay put.

Yet, you are afraid that if you move your eyes away from him, he will arrive at your doorstep tomorrow morning, alive and well.

Ambush is a certain dance.

Rule number one.

Conceal.

Luke and Kieran thrived on the art of surprising their opponents but that only works if you blend yourself against the shadows.

“I want to make sure he doesn’t visit me again.”

They were taken aback when you told them your request but your conviction said otherwise and here begins your first lesson and likely the last.

You weave through the winding shipping containers, your eyes trained at that mess of black thread walking aimlessly, yelling at anyone to come to his aid. Your steps were almost quiet, the sounds you made muffled by the dark and heavy coat hanging on your shoulders.

Rule number two.

Know your enemy.

A predator can be anyone, a loose term for people who had an intent to kill but what do you call yourself now if you are now the hunter and the man who had pursued you through the winding path of your forest is now the hunted?

His dominant hand is missing, his other hand trembling as he tries to hold the gun while he makes his way to the telephone nearby, lit by a lone fluorescent light.

Rule number three.

Exploit your advantage.

“Oh, need a hand?”, Kieran asked and the human recoiled in fear, dropping the phone and immediately pulling out the gun he hastily tucked on his back.

“Y-you-”,

“Me?”, Luke and Kieran both answered and the human trembled, stepping back to put more distance between the twins who were leaning lazily at both sides of the telephone booth, the dial tone missing, tilting their heads in amusement.

He thought he had planned everything out, that Sylus would cower knowing the weight of a human’s words is heavier than the rest of the hybrids combined but they were right, that dragon hybrid is not afraid to commit atrocities.

A faint rustle and he almost blacked out when he saw a silhouette standing just outside the light of the lamp post.

That coat.

Two horns protruding from the head.

And that damn fucking bird-

He was aiming for the head but his hold was lousy and the bullet hit the other horn, shattering it immediately and instead of a deep groan of pain, he heard something else.

A soft whimper.

“What the hell-”, the human muttered and you stepped inside the light, blood pouring to the side of your face and this time, you aren’t looking down on your shoes.

Your eyes are gazing back at him.

“You really do think you are like the rest of them, huh?!”, he shouted, and he was about to take another shot when the crow flew too fast, knocking the gun out of his hand.

“I am like the rest of them,” you answered quietly and you raised the gun, aiming at him.

Breathe for me.

Your dragon’s words were louder than ever, and the weight of his coat almost close to having his presence nearby and you blinked your tears away, never removing your eyes at the mess of black threads that threatened to engulf you.

May this bullet forgive him for what your heart cannot.

God, please.

A merciless shooting star, speeding fast, and for once, the heaven had finally turned an eye and ear to your prayers, the surface of the tangled black threads erupted like the waves of a dark and deep lake.

The black thread connecting you and him had been finally severed.

────────────────────

Opening a door for Sylus meant bracing himself for impact.

Opening a door meant surprises, most of them bad ones and he was fortunate to be gifted a set of senses that can detect danger ahead.

Not all business meetings are actual talks, most are disguised as attempts to take his life and the merchandise he had brought alongside with him.

It is an irrational fear but in his line of work, it doesn’t hurt to be too vigilant.

Sylus only ceased his rampage when the fire had slowly died down, the sun slowly breaking out from the horizon and he knew he had to return soon.

Return to you.

Hearing your gentle voice through the other side of the door made him too eager to turn the handle and listen to your warm greetings.

“Welcome back, Skye.”

“Good afternoon, Skye. Have you eaten yet?”

“Hello, Skye. Slow day?”

He had always looked forward to hearing those phrases with his real name and there is a certain sentence he has yet to hear but has been praying for that day to come soon.

In this hideous form where everyone would certainly flee when they see him open the door, he was met with an unexpected surprise.

Through the gap of the warehouse doors barely held together by its hinges was no other than-

You.

Disagreement is not a foreign thing, even if you are twins who know each other’s thoughts and emotions.

They had debated over leaving after you took out the trash, after they left the body under the flickering light of the lamp post, and helping clean up your wound, their worries overriding their instincts.

Kieran had insisted to still follow the boss’ orders but Luke was the stubborn one this time, pointing out to might as well wait considering you aren’t budging ever since you put yourself near the warehouse doors, waiting patiently.

The screams had died down then, the gunshots gone, and all was left was the soft crackle of fire slowly dying down.

Here they are, standing near you as you sit on the ground with your beloved crow perched on your remaining antler, the good luck ribbon swaying against the wind.

“Didn’t I tell you I will fly back to you before the sun rises?”

A deep voice, familiar, coming out from inside the dark warehouse, black snow falling around you and your ears drooped.

“Then we still have time,” you smiled and with outstretched hands you continued, “Fly to me then.”

He should be angry.

He should be angry that you chose to be stubborn at this time.

He should be angry that the twins listened to you.

Yet, he can’t find the heart to do so, not right now, when the ash is slowly settling and all he wants is to indeed, return to your side.

He was about to step out and it will just take him five more strides to get to you but he hesitated when he get a glimpse of what he looked like right now through the metallic door.

He really does look hideous.

Will you still look at him the same if he wears this shape?

“The sun is rising,” you gently said, coaxing him.

His sweetheart, so naive.

“Close your eyes for me,” he answered and you did as you were told.

Earnest.

Sweet.

Precious.

He rested his snout on your hands and he watched your reaction, your fingers mapping out the scales, occasionally grazing the exposed teeth.

“When did you become so rough, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can defend myself, Miss Deer.”

You hummed, pulling him close with your face leaning against his snout.

“When did you become so warm, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can hold you closer, Miss Deer.”

He laughed softly, pushing his forehead against yours, and oddly enough, he found himself purring in delight that you have always managed to surprise him.

“When did you become so large, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can protect you, Miss Deer.”

You never opened your eyes once, and slowly the scales you were touching were replaced by warm skin, his forehead against yours and he leaned down to rub his remaining horn against your sole antler.

Both of you, a mirror image of each other but not quite.

“Of all the creatures I have held, you are the warmest.��

“And you are the kindest.”

This time, he leaned down and kissed both of your eyelids and he wanted to keep his eyes at you longer, to see the morning light on your face but his eyes are becoming heavier.

How long was it since he slept on a hard surface? To sleep unguarded?

Exhaustion never crept in so fast before but here he is, already making himself comfortable on your lap and you didn’t stop him, your hand trying to look for his hair and he gently held your wrist to guide you.

“You know, boss, you have a bed back at the base.”

“Never thought I would see you sleeping in a place like this.”

You chuckled softly and Sylus did too, barely audible, a small huff, as he leaned further against your touch and with sleep finally creeping in, the night slowly becoming day, the radio left on in the guardhouse played from a distance and a brief smile cross his face, recognizing the last lines of the song. It was, afterall, the famous aria played in the opera where he first laid eyes on you for the first time.

Who would have thought using that form would tire him out?

Maybe you did the right call staying within the edges of this already burnt warehouse because he might fall asleep on his way back and he knows you wouldn’t be too happy if he come in a little later.

You and your adorable pout and drooping deer ears.

He would really hate to disappoint you.

“Let sleeping dragons lie.”

It was a quiet answer, your fingers on your lips and the twins laughed with his mechanical crow letting out a small beep. His eyes are closing, watching the morning rays overwhelm the brilliant stars and the skies have never felt nearer with him on lying on your lap.

Night is coming to an end, the fateful day that you will finally say his real name, he hopes, has arrived and one by one, each of your voice faded in the background until the last thing he heard was the last line of the song, and he mumbled along with it, a faint smile on his lips.

"All'alba, vincerò!

Vincerò! Vincerò!"

Victory tastes like white rabbit milk candy.

────────────────────

Author's Note: I think I used a lot of symbolism and references in this part but my favorite is the white rabbit milk candy and (the last lines from the opera Turandot). I got that after listening to Mili's Iron Lotus (Yes, I had second hand suffering watching people's playthrough getting their asses burn by Xiao from Library of Ruina). I think I would have finished writing this earlier but I live in a place where public spaces like libraries is a foreign concept and walking around is like Subway Surfers here.

I might make a playlist of all songs I made references to in the future after I am done with this. This chapter mentally exhausted me tbh I think I need to rewatch Delicious in Dungeon for the nth time again this weekend.

Four more chapters (Already including the epilogue)! See you next update!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #hybrid au #lads hybrid au #lads #lads sylus

159 notes · View notes

boiohboii · 2 years ago

Text

The Royal Way 《Pt.2》

(Leclerc!reader x Prince of Monaco!oc)

After his older sister marries into the Monaco Royal family, Charles knew he would be treated differently, to his surprise (and his sister's disappointment) his F1 team, ferarri, treated him the same way.... and that did not sit well with the new princess of Monaco

in which YN Leclerc uses her new familial connections to fuck up ferarri just like how they fucked up her baby brother's hopes and dreams.

N.B: so, this was supposed to be longer and the last part, but it's currently 3 AM and I have classes at 8 AM thus me splitting this little fic into a trilogy. Hopefully, I will have time tomorrow to post the third and final part! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!! WARNINGS: NOT REALISTIC AT ALL!! if you are looking for a realistic revenge sort of plot, it is not here, I tried as best as I can to search up what the whole electronic system does and it's relation to the DRS, BUT I AM BY NO MEANS AN EXPERT NOR HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE, SO EXCUSE THE POOR RESEARCH. The car designs are from Pinterest... Some swear words (fuck, bitch, etc...) Let me know if I missed anything else please!

Faceclaims:

yn leclerc --> anya taylor joy

Prince Thierry --> louis partridge

Masterlist // part 1

Liked by ferrariisdone, charlesthefrench, leclercfam and 716,920 others

F1_updates_live: Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc heading into the Ferrari motor home in LA. Neither of the Royals look ecstatic to be in this position and it's no doubt to do with the statement released by Ferrari's Formula one media team, where they had essentially blamed the newly wedded Princess, YN Leclerc and their own driver, Charles Leclerc, for his DNF in the previous GP.

username: let them cook

username: the amount of bodyguards they have is insane

username: they do not look happy

username: yeah, no shit sherlock, ferrari basically said that it was yn's fault that Charles is distracted

username: ferrari blaming everyone but themselves

LEAKED AUDIO FROM LAS VEGAS GP, FERRARI'S MOTORHOME: tensions rise in the Ferrari garage as the young royals of Monaco, Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc, threaten Fred Vasseur of taking him to court after buying out the rest of Charles' contract with Ferrari.

(Princess YN Leclerc,Prince Thierry, Fred Vasseur)

"It has been proven time and time again that the team is so incompetent! Why won't you do any changes?"

"Do you think that it's easy? These are people's livelihoods we are talking about"

"You do realise you are talking to a princess, right? She is well aware of how to run a business and a team, unlike you."

"I am just saying that I can't just fire people because Charles can't manage the car!"

"CAN'T MANAGE THE CAR? Are you out of your fucking mind mr. Vasseur? There is evidence, very strong evidence for your information, that the problem was from the electronic system. Do you have any idea how fucked up your engineers and strategists have to be to send out a car with failed electronic system?"

"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but don't the electronic system control the DRS?"

"Mmhhmmm"

"And if the DRS opens in a corner it might result in a crash, am I correct mr. Vasseur?"

"The DRS was fine, there was-"

"My husband is asking a yes or no question Fred."

"Yes."

"So basically, Ferrari's Formula one team had, intentionally and with their knowledge, put a member of the monegasque royal family in direct danger."

"But Charles isn't a member of the royal family! He is only YN's half brother!"

"PRINCESS YN MR VASSEUR! YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT!"

"Charles is my brother, and you dare put him in harm's way. I am princess YN Leclerc of Monaco, I can and I will hold you accountable as the principal of this team."

"You can't do anything! Carlos had the same car-"

"Carlos did not have the same car and you know it!"

"We already know Fred, we have had professional inspections done on both cars, it's quite deceiving really, telling a driver that he's the priority and still disappointing him every single time."

🔊 a thud is heard 🔊

"This is the amount of money to buy Charles out of Ferrari, but don't spend it Fred, we will be getting it back in court."

"YN WHAT WE-"

"PRINCESS YN FRED! *sigh* it seems like no matter what you are still convinced that you and your workers did no wrong, we will see about that."

"There is only one race left, there will be no team to take in Charles now!"

"Oh, we are not looking for a team to take him in, we made a team for him."

{Taglist: @phillydilly @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @omgsuperstarg @formulas-bitch @brakingboundaries @kyuupidwrites}

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theweepingangelofcas · 6 months ago

Text

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukuko no moriarty #louis james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x reader #william moriarty #william james moriarty #louis moriarty #albert moriarty x you #albert moriarty x reader #albert moriarty #albert james moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x you #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori

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trippinsorrows · 9 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + fourteen

authors note: swear this was the chapter that never fucking ended. it's essentially part one because even with how long it is, i still have a lot to cover. 😩

anywayssss, some foreshadowing, a ton of fluff, and some long awaited moments below.

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, smut

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

masterlist

words: 15k (sorrows, sorrows, prayers)

“Did they hurt?” The question is asked while sitting on top of Roman’s lap, the default seat for her, it seems, whenever she’s in his presence. Her fingers ghost over his inked skin, slightly fascinated by the intricacies of the design. Tribal. A nod to his heritage and his story.

Like most, if not all things with Solana, he answers truthfully. “Not really, but I have a high pain tolerance, so it’s hard to say.” For some reason, that makes her frown a bit. Was that a natural inherited thing or some level of tolerance built up from years of said pain? “Do you want any?”

She nods, tracing one of the patterns with her finger. “In Mexican culture, Hummingbirds represent many things. Strength. Love. But, the thing my mom always focused on and stressed to me is they’re also messengers from the spirits in heaven. That…they remind us of lost loved ones.” Her shoulders lift a little. Small, sad smile on her face. “Sometimes, I think I’d like to get one tattooed on me. Like…like a tribute to her, but then I think about the needle and don’t know if that could trigger me somehow.”

It could trigger from a couple different angles, but namely her trauma with knives as well as her history of self-harming. But, Solana is certain Roman already recognizes this, thus her not going into specifics. “I don’t know. I’ll….I’ll think about it some more.”

Roman nods, offering, “if you decide to get it, I’ll go with you.”

It’s a thoughtful gesture, not entirely surprising. Solana is starting to recognize there’s very little the man underneath her wouldn’t do for her.

Appreciatively kissing his cheek, she murmurs, “thank you.” Biting on her lip, she foolishly tries to see if she can get something else out of him. “Speaking of going….”

Roman chuckles. “I’m not telling you.” He rolls his eyes as she pouts almost, his thumb going to her cheek, the cut almost entirely healed. “You’ll find out in a couple hours.”

It’s been almost a week since the gala, and the temperature has settled tremendously. Roman still doesn’t like thinking about it, thinking about how he lost his fucking shit but mostly at the fact that Solana was attacked.

He’s about to start having someone with her at all times. Even in the bathroom.

Roman has also noticed there seems to be some conflicted emotions on Solana’s end regarding what happened in the bathroom. Namely because she caught wind of Wes injuries, injuries that are truly tame compared to what Roman would have done and will do once he gets his hands on that son of a bitch.

But, he is him, and Solana is her. They are very different people. She is gentle where he is hard, so while there is still that adrenaline and proudness she was experiencing at defending herself as well as she did, he can see it’s something that’s bothering her.

He’s tried to bring it up, but she shuts down, so he’s left it alone out of respect.

But, with her birthday being tomorrow and them leaving in a couple hours for their trip, he’s hopeful getting away will be good for her. For them.

She then asks a bit of a silly question considering who she’s talking to. Roman plans for every little thing, from the most major detail to the thing that most likely won’t happen but still serves as something that needs to be accounted for. “Is….is it at least domestic? I don’t have a passport.”

“Yes, you do.” He opens the first drawer of his desk, pulling out a small Louis Vuitton passport cover and hands it to her.

Solana looks down with a gasp seeing that she, in fact, has a passport. A brand new, unstamped passport. “How did you—”

An easy answer. “I’m a billionaire, Solana. There’s nothing I can’t buy or make happen.”

It makes sense, but it doesn’t do much to chip away the tremendous amount of guilt and how bad she feels in learning that Roman’s birthday was back in May, and no one said or did a thing about it or acknowledged it.

She can still feel her stomach dropping when she asked a few days about when his is, and he calmly informed that it had already passed. That hurt. Truly. To know what should be a special occasion was essentially treated as any other day.

His explanation made sense. He expressed not liking to acknowledge his birthday because of what happened when he was 10. She can understand that. She does understand that, but it doesn’t make her feel any less sad at the fact that she didn’t even know it was her husband’s freaking birthday.

Solana expresses said concern. “But…it’s….it’s not fair we’re doing all this for my birthday, and I didn't even know yours—”

“Hey—” He interrupts her, his hands cupping her face. “Don’t do that.” He pushes back some of her hair. “My story is my story. Not yours.” She opens her mouth clearly to protest or counter when his eyes take on a mischievous glint. “Besides, seeing you half naked most of the day for a week? Might as well be my fucking birthday.”

Solana rolls her eyes. He has a way of making her feel better in the most interesting and often raunchy sort of way. Blushing and smiling at his suggestive comment, she shrugs, admitting, “there are more bathing suits in my suitcase than clothes.”

“Good. The less clothes you have on, the better.” Her cheeks must be a red mess. Roman taps on her hip, gesturing for her to stand up. He also stands and takes her hand in his. “Come here. There’s something I want to show you.”

Solana looks down at her outfit which is most definitely nothing appropriate enough to leave the house in. “Are we leaving the house or—”

“No.” His answer is simple and to the point that she doesn’t really press him for more information as he guides her through the house. A frown does fall on her face, however, when she sees he’s taken her down the hall where he’d said construction was previously taking place.

It’s only then she finally asks, “what—”

“Close your eyes.”

Solana makes a face. “Roman, what are you—”

He steps towards her, pushing back her hair. “You know I don’t like repeating myself.” If she was anyone else, Solana is certain his tone would be much different. A lot darker, harsher. But, it’s not. Just….strangely calm.

Blowing out a breath, she relents, realizing there’s not really an option for anything else. “Okay.” Shutting her eyes, she allows him to continue to guide her, stopping for a moment as she hears a door open. He directs her to walk through said opened door followed by a light switch, the presence of that light shining against her closed eyes.

Solana feels him shift behind her, his arms snaking around her, mouth dipping to her ear. “Open em’.”

Solana doesn't need to be told twice, and as soon as they’re open, a gasp leaves her mouth. Naturally, she walks away from him, deeper into the room that has an open floor plan, walls almost entirely lined with white, empty shelves. Bookshelves. Against the walls and the cutout part of the room. Not to be confused with the other nook that’s occupied by seating, pillows, and anything else someone would need if indulging in reading or writing.

Walking further into the space, she sees another area clearly curated for another purpose. Art. A table to create on, two easels, countless art supplies all perfectly situated near the bay window that allows for natural sunlight.

The perfect place to create.

Taken completely back by the surprise of it all, Solana turns to Roman, stammering to ask, “is–is this for me?”

“You know it’s damn sure not for me.” He steps toward her again, gently pulling her against him. “You were outgrowing that space. And your journals are personal. They shouldn’t be kept at work.” His thumb brushes across her bottom lip. “They should be here. This is your home now.”

“Roman….” She looks around again, tears growing in her eyes.

He continues to explain. “It would have been ready sooner, but when I found out you like art, I had them add that.” He gestures to the corner that has to be any artist's dream. “I’m not smart about a lot of that shit, so just let me know anything else you ne—”

He’s silenced by Solana practically jumping him, angling her body to face him as she wraps her arms around his neck. A hug, deep and sentimental. It takes him off guard for a second, Roman unused to such….affection.

But, the discomfort settles into something that almost feels natural. His hand on the small of her back as he chuckles. “I’m gonna take it that you like it then.” It’s not necessarily a question as much as an assessment.

She gives a watery chuckle, pulling back and nodding. “I love it.” Her voice breaks. “No…..no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” It goes without saying this doesn't include her mom, who Roman is almost certain did more for her than anyone ever could. Especially when she needed it the most.

Doesn’t mean he can’t do his part though.

She swallows, whispering as he wipes away her tears. “Thank you.”

“What I tell you about that, huh?” He ghosts his lips over hers, reminding yet again. “You never have to thank me for anything.” Roman kisses her forehead, seeing how her eyes shut from feeling content and partially overwhelmed. It brings a small smile to his face. “Happy birthday, Solana….”

________

“Oh my god….”

Roman doesn’t have to be looking up to know what’s caught Solana’s attention. It’s obvious by the way the SUV has come to a stop, shifting into park as they’ve clearly reached their destination.

And she’s clearly looking up at said destination. Well, the conduit to help them travel to said destination.

When he finishes sending out an email, one of the last before he goes into somewhat work blackout—because he never be fully disconnected—he looks up to see Solana still staring out the window.

“Is that….is that a private jet?”

Smirking, Roman slides his phone in his bag and removes his seatbelt. “You really think I fly commercial?”

It’s not intended to come across as rude, and it isn't judging by her small smile. “They’re bigger than I imagined….”

“Mine is.” Double entendre, if he really wanted to make her blush, but he keeps it PG. For now. “I’m tall. Need the leg room.”

Roman exits the SUV at the same time the driver opens the door for Solana to do the same. He easily circles back around to her just in time for her to sling her small backpack on her shoulder and adjust her ball cap. In sneakers without any sort of height boost, she looks even tinier than she already is, especially compared to his massive build.

Taking her hand, Roman asks, “you ready?”

She nods as he leads them over to the descended stairs where the pilot and two flight attendants stand outside, greeting them. The older man, Bob, he thinks, lifts his hat and nods respectfully in their direction.

“Mr. Reigns. Mrs. Reigns. Everything is just as you requested.”

Roman only gives a nod to acknowledge things being exactly as they should. His way.

He motions for Solana to walk up ahead of him, mainly so he can enjoy the view of her ass in the tight ass outfit she has on but also out of manners.

Manners he only seems to be able to find in her presence.

She loiters a bit near the entrance, moving aide for him to also fully enter but still stands almost frozen, clearly taken back by the interior.

“This is….”

“The best,” he finishes for her, tossing his bag on the closest beige sofa that lines both sides of the jet. Roman moves over to her, hand palming her ass as he dips his head to whisper in her ear. “I don’t accept anything less.”

She giggles against him, the sound hands down one of the best songs on the soundtrack when they’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Momentarily considering murder for probably the fifth time today, Roman turns to see Paul standing at the bottom of the steps. Roman literally forgot this man was in the SUV behind them, coming to see them off.

Paul lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, asking with all of the unease. “A word, please, my Tribal Chief?”

The automatic answer would be no if not for Solana turning around and placing her hand on his chest. A frequent gesture he never gets tired of. Any touch from her is always welcomed.

Her smile dips a bit as she asks with the same level of unease shared by Paul, “is—is it okay if I look around?”

Her question makes him scowl. Her asking him permission to do anything feels uncomfortable as fuck. “You don’t have to ask my permission for shit. Anything that’s mine is yours.”

His answer seems to ease her anxiety at least as she nods, kisses his cheek and starts to explore the rest of the jet. Roman’s eyes linger on her a bit before he switches his attention to his annoying ass head council.

Stomping down the steps with all of the agitation, he barks, “talk.”

Paul clears his throat, and Roman’s already regretting his decision to choose his Wise Man over his fine ass wife.

“Sir, I—I understand you wanting to take the girl—”

“Solana,” Roman corrects one time only. Because that was Paul’s one time referring to Solana as anything other than her name or his wife. “Her name is Solana.”

Paul swallows. “Of course.” He’s a quick learner, smartly running it back for a second, correct time. “I understand you wanting to take Solana away for her birthday, but is the timing really great? There’s so much work—”

“There’s always work to do, Wise Man. That’s why I delegated the appropriate tasks to cover the appropriate work while I’m gone.” It was a bit trickier than that as delegation has never been a preference for Roman. His ultimate preference is to always handle shit on his own. And truth be told, he made sure to sign off, approve, create, and orchestrate any major moves that needed to be done before leaving. The remaining tasks were split among Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi. And he has no doubt they’ll be on top of it. Because as always, when it comes to business, the twins never miss. It’s just any other time they’re bumbling idiots who give Roman migraines from time to time.

“Of course. Always so conscientious, my Tribal Chief.” Paul’s smile makes Roman want to turn and walk away yet again for the second time in two minutes. Granted, that’s his usual disposition when interacting with anyone other than his wife. “I just—for you to be out of the country for almost a week. Well, it’s just—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s eyes light up, and it has nothing to do with the sun that’s shining in his direction. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“How long have I been the Tribal Chief?”

The answer is almost instantaneous, a small smile falling on Paul’s pudgy face. “Since you were eighteen-years-old.”

“How old am I now?”

“My Tribal Chief turned 39 on May 25th of this year.”

“And in all that time, how many vacations have I taken?”

There’s brief hesitation, eyes traveling for a brief second, searching for the answer. “N–none, my Tribal Chief.”

“Exactly.” Roman lifts his shades and sets them atop his head. “So, if I want to take a couple fucking days off to help my wife celebrate her birthday, then that’s what I’m gonna fucking do, and I don’t have to answer to a damn person about it. Because I feel like you’re questioning me, Wise Man, and I don’t get questioned. Is that understood?”

Paul’s fat cheeks are painted an ugly shade of red as he stammers out, “y–yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Semi pleased with the acquiescence, Roman turns around and calls out coldly, “only contact me for emergencies.”

Roman is almost certain Paul will be too scared shitless to risk his wrath with an outreach that’s only subjectively considered an emergency vs Roman’s definition. He’ll probably task Rikishi or the twins with the task.

Roman would prefer their old man over them. Less antics and constant triggers for his anger.

The head of the table finds his wife still in the main section of the jet, sitting down on the sofa, legs pulled up under her, phone in hand. Hearing his return, she smiles, sharing, “I was just texting Naomi to make sure she grabbed Dulce’s favorite toy.”

Roman chuckles and walks over, joining her on the sofa. “The dog has a favorite toy?”

Smiling, she explains, “it’s the one she plays with the most. Her avocado.” Solana angles her body so she’s facing him more versus the other sofa that lines the other side of the plane. “Do—do you think she’ll be okay? We’ve never left her before.”

To be fair, Roman briefly thought about that. She’s so fucking little and still a puppy, so leaving her could be risky. But, he also knows that damn thing seems to always be hopping on Naomi and Bayley’s lap, so she should be fine.

“She’ll probably sleep the majority of the time we’re gone.”

Solana rolls her pretty eyes, her mouth curving into a small smile. “I’m serious, Roman.”

“So am I.” He sighs and brings his arm around her, pulling her into his side. “She’ll be fine, Solana. It’s not like we left her with Jey and psycho ass Nicki with their bad ass kids.”

Forever the saint, she pouts and lightly scolds him. “That’s not nice. I’m sure they’re not bad.”

“You ain’t met them yet,” Roman scoffs. “Why you think Jey always at our place?”

Smiling cheekily, she gently points out, “you said it’s because I keep feeding them.”

“That too.” Roman trails his finger up and down her upper forearm, her soft skin a contrast to his coarse fingertips. Her perfume, something sweet, vanilla, and gourmand doesn’t help him keep focus on the conversation nor the fact that she’s so close to him, their bodies touching him. His desire for physical contact, of any kind, with her has been heightened a bit in recent days. “That’s why you don’t feed fucking strays. Cause they keep coming back.”

Solana peers up at him, giggling, “you’re so mean to them sometimes.” Shifting her position so that her legs are laid out the opposite side of Roman, her back pressed against his side. His big arm is over her chest, her hands on his forearm. “I think….I think you like them more than you let on.”

“Really?”

She nods, further explaining. “I don’t….I don’t think you would let them be as close to you as they are if you didn’t.”

Perceptive. Roman pegged that about Solana a while ago, when they first started writing, her previous preferred form of communication. She’s not entirely wrong. As fucking crazy Jimmy and Jey drive Roman, they’ve also been the two best and really only examples of friendships he has. Not to mention they’re family.

“They’re….tolerable.”

She looks up at him, asking almost nervously, “and what am I?”

Such a good question that’s both simple and complicated. The easy answer is his wife. That’s just fact. Law. But the complex answer, the complex answer is that she’s so much more than that. That she’s become so much more than that. Where Roman finds himself craving her presence. A rarity for someone who typically avoids and shies away from social interactions like the plague.

Dipping his head to kiss her forehead, he answers in a low, steady voice, “my Lo’u Au.”

Her eyes flutter shut a bit as she murmurs, “it’s not fair you say things to me you know I can’t understand.” Roman watches her once again move around, this time sliding one leg over so that she’s sitting on his lap, straddling him. He doesn’t hesitate in moving his hands to the bottom of her ass, lifting her so she’s closer to him, her breast nearly touching his chest. Solana tilts her head to the side, whispering, “Yo siento muy bien contigo.”

Having her like this, so close against him, it doesn’t help that resolve, doesn’t do shit about the fact that his dick stiffens whenever she touches him. Like she is now. His eyes dip to her lips, so soft and full. “And what does that mean?”

Solana also seems to be on the same wavelength, her eyes also dropping to his mouth as she whispers with a small smile. “I’ll tell you when you tell me.”

Eyes shutting, Roman groans and tugs her even closer, her arms around his neck. “God, you drive me fuckin’ crazy.” Roman kisses her. Kisses her with all of the intensity and desire and borderline need he harbors for this woman.

And then she moans. She fucking moans in his mouth. His dick nearly fucking jerks as he stands up with her in his arms, Solana gasping and breaking the kiss to look around. “Roman….”

He needs to have his mouth on her, lips kissing the underline of her jaw as he brings them to the back of the jet, to the bed. He’s careful in how he lays her down, mindful of how she tugs on his shirt, pulling him on top of her and resuming their passionate kiss.

Roman’s hands roam her body, but he pays extra attention to her breast, so big and soft, pillow soft under his hand as he kneads them, mindful of the way her nipples continue to harden under his touch.

“Roman….” Solana is breathing heavily, once again breaking their kiss, something he would otherwise be objected to if not for the two tiny words that leave her mouth. “Touch me.”

His eyes widen a bit as he asks, almost unsure he heard her right. “What?”

Mouth parted, she licks her lips and again reiterates her previous request. “I—I want you to touch me.”

If not for not wanting to insult her intelligence, he’d remind her he is. He's touching her everywhere she’s previously admitted him access to. But, Roman would never do that nor is he stupid. He knows exactly what she’s referring to. And there’s suddenly a part of him that feels bad, wonders if she somehow thought that was the reason for him taking them to the bed. It wasn’t that. He just wanted privacy, wanted to give her that privacy.

“Solana, I wasn’t—”

“Roman,” she says his name again, firmer, more committed almost to her request. “I trust you.” Three words. Three little words that pack such a heavy, emotional punch. “You’re…you’re going to have to when we finally…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Pl—please.”

He shuts his eyes, jaw clenching. That one word alone coming from her is such a dangerous thing. Dangerous because it's incapable to say no to.

But, he doesn’t necessarily have to because her hand is on his, slowly moving it down from her breast, traveling down the span of her stomach and the top of her black pants. But instead of remaining there, Solana guides it under her waistband, her tour stopping when the palm of his hand presses softly on her mons pubis, still protected under the cotton of her underwear. Her eyes shut at this contact, but it’s when his fingers flitter near the space between her legs that she gasps.

His eyes snap to hers as he’s quick to ask, “do you want me to stop?”

And she’s immediately shaking her head ‘no,’ explain, “I’m just—not used to it.” She’s already so sensitive to his touch. Roman can’t even imagine what this level of sensitivity is going to look like when they go all the way. “It’s okay.” She’s again reassuring him, even spreading her thighs a bit, giving him better access.

Roman is hard as a fucking rock, but he taps into expert level self-control as he moves his other hand to her waistband, giving a slight tug. “Can I?”

She answers in a soft voice. “Yes.”

Solana lifts her hips as he slides her black pants down her shapely legs, his mouth practically watering to see and have so much of her soft skin exposed to him. He moves his hand to caress the skin of her inner thighs. She sighs, content, and this serves as more motivation to continue his efforts in following through on her task.

Again, he’s making sure to catch her gaze. “Do….”

And once again, she partially takes him by surprise as she closes her eyes and instead of giving him the approval to remove the only remaining article of clothing keeping her covered from him, Solana takes her fingers to her underwear and pushes down, lifting her hips slightly until they're hooked around her ankles and kicked onto the floor.

Mouth previously watering, Roman feels a sudden, intense amount of dehydration. She’s completely bare and exposed to him, her cunt so smooth and pretty, lips glistening already just from their makeout.

If not for her trauma, he’d have already had this woman more times than he could count.

But, he’d especially already had her in his mouth. Licking his lips, he does his best to keep composure, maintaining the maturity of a grown ass man vs a horny ass teenage boy whose balls haven’t even dropped.

Once more, he asks, “are you sure?”

It might be overkill to some, but one thing’s for certain, he would never go this far without gaining her consent every step of the way.

She answers, “yes.”

Roman nods, starting his hand at the top of her belly, gradually teasing it downward until he’s touching her, long fingers gently caressing her lips, the tips of his fingers gathering some of her essence. “How you already this wet for me?”

It’s more rhetorical than anything, but it’s partially fueled with how her stomach caves in a bit just at that initial touch. Her being so responsive to just his hands does wonders for his ego but also fuels his burning to just make her feel good.

Roman uses long, slow strokes along the areas of her vulva, never taking his eyes off her face, mouth dropping open, eyes slamming shut and head craning back. Pleasure. She feels pleasure. That’s what he wants to see. All he wants to see.

There’s not an ounce of discomfort in sight.

“Roman…” Her moaning his name might be his new favorite song. So needy and wanton. It’s got his erection fighting for its life in his boxers. “Shit….”

He smirks a bit. “Must be good if I got you cussing, baby.” It’s evident in the way she becomes swollen underneath his expert touch, eventually exposing her clit. And it’s then that he brings his thumb to her clit, pressing softly, satisfied when she arches against the bed. “That’s it….”

Such light touches, not a finger entered into her yet, and she’s already so wet. Largely due to sexual deprivation and being touch starved. Of that, he’s certain. To be almost thirty and have never been touched as such as a woman seems almost criminal. He wants to give it to her though. Give her that experience. Give her all of the experiences.

He works his thumb around her swollen clitoris, small circles, her growing wetness all the lube and slip he needs to work her good, in the way she deserves, in only how he can have her.

“Oh my god…” She’s starting to squirm against the bed, and he fucking loves it. Loves seeing how worked up he can get her. It makes the anticipation of actually being inside of her that much better. He plays around with different touches, different techniques, studying closely what seems to evoke the strongest physical reaction. A sort of a game, a way for him to learn her body, to learn what she likes. But also, for her to learn what she likes.

“You okay?” He checks in with her, seeing her nod ‘yes’ almost frantically. If not for the fact he can see speech is a bit difficult right now, he’d press her on actual words. But, he can extend some grace. “So fucking wet….” She’s a wet, soaking mess, pussy soaking his fingers, her thighs, and the bed under her. Not that he gives a flying fuck. Seeing her like this is better than he could have imagined, just a taste of what it’ll be like to be inside of her.

But, it’s when he teases a finger near her opening, so wet and sticky that he clenches his jaw. Just that slight probing, and he can already tell how tight she is, can imagine that tightness gripping the mess out of his dick.

Roman carefully enters one finger and observes the way she tenses, whimpers, the way her cunt clenches against him. “Relax….” He coaxes her, talks her through it, allows her to adjust to the unfamiliar stretch while his thumb continues to play with her clit, never once stopping her pleasure train.

And when she’s adjusted, he enters another finger, stopping there, not wanting to push her too far, recognizing how big this is for her. But when she shifts again, almost rocking against his fingers, Roman responds to her, moving in sync, staying along with her song and dance. He works with her, making the hitherto motion while his other fingers continue to rub and caress her into that higher room, that place of ecstasy.

Roman can see it coming, can see her coming, see the way she starts to grip the sheets, the biting of her bottom lip.

“I’m—I’m—”

“Ride it out, baby. Let me see how pretty you look when you come on my hand.” His words of affirmation seem to take her over the edge, damn near her entire upper half arching off the bed, her body writing as she gives into the bliss, staying on that train to euphoria.

Roman keeps his fingers inside of her just long enough to feel that fucking amazing sensation of making her come yet again, and he can’t help himself as he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, tasting and licking off every bit of her. His eyes shut at her taste, just as fucking sweet as he imagined.

God, he can’t wait to have this woman.

Coming to, Solana sits up on her elbows a bit, looking down, becoming aware of just how messy things got. And she seems a bit embarrassed, offering what’s surely the start of an unnecessary apology. “I–oh my—I didn’t.”

Roman says nothing, just gets up and moves to the bathroom, grabbing a towel off the rack and bringing it to her. He’d clean her up himself, but he doesn’t necessarily trust himself to not try for take two.

Letting her handle it is the safest route, but he can work to dissuade any thought or feeling she might have that makes her think she did anything wrong.

“I’ll buy a new fucking mattress every damn day if it means I get to make you come like that.”

Solana has cleaned herself and the bed as best she can as she reaches to slide her underwear back on. Roman has to push away his disappointment. She has such a pretty pussy.

Her cheeks are red, partially because of what just occurred but also her naturally shy personality. “You’re really good at that.”

“I’m good at a lot of things, Solana.” He has every intention on eventually showing her just what those remaining things are, but time and place.

He’ll be as patient with her as she needs.

After Solana is all cleaned up, returned to a semi state of being adequately dressed, they fall into a sense of normalcy where she lays in bed, reading and writing a bit while he finishes up some work tasks on his laptop right beside her before she drifts off into a sleep that lasts longer than he was expecting.

He’s tempted to wake her when they start to descend, partially wanting her to look out the window at the clear, blue waters that he can admit are impressive looking. But, he decides against it, waiting until they’ve landed and are ready to exit the jet.

Gently shaking her shoulder, he stirs her, “Solana, wake up.” She does so relatively easily, pretty brown eyes blinking a little in confusion as he explains. “We made it.”

Those three words help bring her to a full state of consciousness. He smiles a bit seeing how she moves quicker than what’s probably necessary to get out of the bed and slide her shoes on, looking back at him and reaching for his hand.

Roman closes his laptop and does the same, taking her hand, guiding her out the jet. They’re both instantly met with an intense heat and radiating sun shining in their direction. They’re also met with the staff and security he made sure to have lined up and ready to go upon their arrival. He walks out first, watching and taking her hand again as she follows him, face turned up in expected confusion.

But, before she can ask anything, one of the men offers what may be a genuine smile. Not that Roman cares about that.

He flicks his gaze between the two of them. “Welcome to Isla Mujeres, Mr. and Mrs. Reigns….”

A loud gasp next to him is unsurprising, Solana almost spinning to look around, trying to process that she’s really standing on Mexican soil.

She eventually turns to him, eyes wide and then softening into something so warm and appreciative. “Roman…”

“It’s the only way I could get you to myself and away from my annoying ass cousins—” Once again, Roman is cut off by Solana throwing her body against his for a hug that results in him easily picking her up, her legs around his waist.. Similar to the embrace at the home library one. Emotional. Grateful. Happy.

She’s laughing a bit, even with tears burning her vision. “Thank you.”

Roman doesn’t correct her this time, just murmurs a ‘you’re welcome’ and kisses her temple. He lets her back down, hand moving to her ass. “You’re gonna have to translate while we’re here though.”

Solana shakes her head. Such a small thing in exchange for such a major act of kindness. “That’s fine.” She holds onto his arm as the staff move to take their bags from the jet while security directs them to the SUV.

Solana is looking out the window almost the entire ride, captivated by the scenery, the landscape, the beauty of it all while he’s just focused on the beauty sitting right beside him.

She asks the driver something in Spanish, the answer putting an even bigger smile on her face. She turns to him, asking, “how long are we here for?”

“A week,” Roman answers, noticing the way her eyes light up even more. “Still think we shouldn’t have come?”

She rolls her eyes and playfully shoves her body against his, grabbing his arm and laying her head against his shoulder. “I just….I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You could never inconvenience me. I do what I want. You know this.” His lips linger near her hairline. “And I wanted to do this for you.”

“Well, I’m appreciative. So much. You….you don’t know how much this means to me.”

He thinks he has an idea.

The ride from the airport to the house is approximately twenty minutes, and just like the moment Solana stepped foot off the jet, she’s got that same look of marvel painted all over her pretty place at the property.

Roman, meanwhile, is just satisfied the pictures didn’t lie. If anything, they didn’t do it justice.

She’s almost like a child on Christmas as she asks with excitement, “is this where we’re staying?” Before he can answer, she’s indirectly apologizing. “Roman, you didn’t have to spend so much money on this place. We’re only going to be here a week. We could have just—”

“I’m rich, Solana. I only do ownership.”

Her jaw drops again. “You bought this?” He nods. She scoffs, looking around, trying to process the fact that she’s technically standing on her property. “So….so we could come back?”

“I don’t know how often I could come with you, but you’re welcome to come and go as you please.” It goes without saying she’d have hefty security detail as well as either Bayley or Naomi attending, but beyond that, Roman could never see himself denying her this. Denying her the opportunity to connect more with her maternal side since the paternal side has only ever caused her nothing but heartache.

Here, there’s a chance to rewrite the chapter.

She walks over to him, holding onto his forearm, asking almost tentatively. “Can I look around the house?”

“How about we do this instead?” She looks genuinely curious as he explains. “If it’s regarding your safety, you ask. If not, you just do it.” Roman’s unsurprised by her unsure expression. “I don’t get to decide how you live your life. That’s all you.”

“Unless it could present a safety risk?”

“Exactly. Cause in that case, the answer is probably no.” A part of him dislikes having a caveat, but in the world they live in, with him being who he is, he can’t take any risks. He won’t take any risks. Not when it comes to her.

Ever.

Solana nods as if she understands better now. She slides her hand down, taking his with hers as she lightly tugs on his arm. “Come with me.”

It’s an easy request. There’s not much she could ask he’d say no to. If anything.

Solana is just as amazed by the inside of the house as the outside, especially the kitchen, the first thing she gravitates to. Naturally.

“We have to go shopping,” she shares. “So I can cook.”

“Solana, you’re not cooking while we’re here.” She frowns, a pout almost on her pretty face. “We’re celebrating your birthday. The fuck I look like you making you cook on something that’s supposed to be for you? I hired a chef for us.”

Her frown softens a bit as she lays her hand on his chest. “You’re not making me do anything. I—I like cooking. You know this.”

“I know you do, but I want you to relax and enjoy yourself while we’re here.” His hands move down to her ass. “Starting with the pool in the back.”

A small smile grows on her face. “There’s a pool?”

He nods, imagining that sexy body of hers clad in one of those skimpy two pieces he told Bayley and Naomi to make sure she purchased plenty of. “I told you. Half naked, baby.” She giggles as he squeezes her ass and lightly pushes on his chest, separating them.

“Where’s our bedroom?”

He has to think about it for a minute. “Down the hall. Should be the first or second room on the right.” Again, she grabs his hand, guiding them based upon his directions. Directions that prove correct, Solana once again taken back by the luxury of it all. The room is damn near bigger than some apartments and provides direct access to the back of the house which houses the pool and hot tub.

“This is all so beautiful…..”

“Hmmm.”

Solana briefly turns from looking out the door when two of the guards bring her and Roman’s luggage into the room. She thanks them, while Roman just seems to glare at them to get them to leave immediately, which they do.

Once alone, she turns to Roman, “can we—” He doesn’t even have to correct her. She does it all on her own. “I—I want to go see the beach.”

He smirks. Assertiveness looks damn good on her. “Then let’s go to the beach.”

________

Roman is both surprised and unsurprised when Solana walks out the bathroom, a cover up partially preventing him from seeing whatever bathing suit she picked. And his disappointment must show as she murmurs, “I’ll take it off when we get there.”

Feeling like it’ll help her feel a bit better, less self-conscious, he informs, “it’ll just be us. I had the beach….cleared, if you will.”

Obviously confused, she wonders aloud, “how….how do you clear a beach?” Solana gasps, lowering her voice as she asks in an almost scared tone. “Did you….did you kill anyone?”

“Not today. Not yet, at least.” The way her eyes widen a bit makes him chuckle. “I’m Roman Reigns, Solana.” He walks past her, adding with all of the arrogance that he can without a doubt back up, “I always get what I want.”

Solana says nothing. Not that she needs to say anything. However, she notices then what Roman was messing with on the bed before she walked out the bathroom. “What is this?” She walks over, reaching for but not touching the camera. “You bought a camera?”

“I’ve had that for years.”

Curious, she less asks and more makes a simple statement, sharing, “I didn’t know you were into photography.”

He shrugs, almost indifferent. Dismissive. “It’s an interest. Haven’t really done much of it in a while.”

“You should,” she encourages. Solana would love to see and support him embrace a side of him that isn’t so deeply embedded in his work that seems never ending. “Especially while we’re here. It’s all so beautiful…”

“I could photograph you and get the same result.”

She smiles, looking away while admitting, “I—I don’t really like having my picture taken.”

“Too bad.” She looks back at him, Roman explaining. “That’s also an insecurity thing. I told you. I’m not letting you feed your insecurities.”

A part of her is grateful for that, grateful for him. Appreciative that he always seems to remind her of these things that she still struggles to notice or believe about herself from time to time. Like the fact that she is beautiful.

“Okay,” she relents, partially knowing it’s not like Roman will give in anyway. “But…but you can’t show them to anyone.”

“Solana, I don’t like sharing you with anyone as it is. You really think I’m trying to share some pictures?” It’s a fair, valid point. “No, I won’t show them to anyone.”

Pleased with the acknowledgement, the two finish getting ready and are out the door in less than 20 minutes. Given the fact that the property is more or less on the water, they opt, more Solana, asks to walk versus driving. Roman isn’t opposed. The beach is cleared, security is roaming the property, not to mention it’s a beautiful day.

Plus, he enjoys intentionally lagging a bit behind to enjoy the jiggle of her ass as she walks ahead of him.

Truly a win-win for all.

The minute she steps foot onto the sand, enters onto the actual beach, there’s a bit of a shift. Nothing negative. The complete opposite. Roman can sense her emotion growing, the reality of finally being in her mom’s home country truly settling in.

He’s partially surprised by just how quickly she moves to the actual water, standing in the space where sand and ocean meet.

“My mom was right….” His gaze falls on her. “It’s so beautiful.” She steps forward a bit more, wind pushing the water closer as it grazes her feet. “I want to go in.” Another slight surprise, but not entirely. A part of the reason he’s been having her get in the pool was for this very moment, to lessen and minimize her fear so she could truly embrace this experience for all it can offer.

He nods but gestures to the camera bag. “Pictures first.”

She scowls a bit, and he chuckles, pulling the camera out. “Roman…”

“Non-negotiable, baby.” And she knows this, knows he’s not letting up when it comes to building her self-esteem and demolishing her body insecurity.

“Okay….” It feels a bit strange at first, posing as Roman snaps photos of her. She’s more than certain the first set of photos look just as awkward as she feels. But as time passes and with his encouragement and slight guidance, the awkwardness melts into something similar to relaxation. Her smile is a natural thing vs the result of being told to smile.

And even when he tells her to remove the cover up, there’s some level of apprehension about being photographed in her bathing suit, but there’s also a level of confidence and reassurance that it’s literally just the two of them.

Roman has her damn near posing like it’s a real photoshoot, and when all is said and done, she’s tugging on his arm as he puts the camera away. “Come with me.”

Solana is both surprised and thankful when he doesn’t push back on her request, doesn’t deny it. There’s an obvious level of disinterest, but it’s nothing compared to his desire to make her happy.

And in the beautiful ocean water that brushes past in little ripples and slight waves against her shoulder, holding onto her strong, handsome husband who seems to look at her like she set all the stars in the sky, she feels just that:

Happy

________

Solana is unsure just how long they spend at the beach. Long enough that by the time they return to the house, the chef he hired for them, an older, kind woman named Maria, has dinner just about ready to serve. And it’s exactly when they finish showering and cleaning up, the plate of delicious food is laid on the table, ready to devour.

It’s a bit of a different yet pleasant experience being able to have dinner with her husband. More often than not, he has to take it in his office due to his volume of work. So having him across from her, being able to talk with him while they indulge in Pozole is a kind of happiness she could get used to.

But, it’s later that evening when they lay in the bed, Solana’s body sprawled on top of his much bigger one, Roman’s hand under her pajama shirt rubbing her skin, that something comes over her. A desire to unload something that’s been oscillating in the back of her head, no matter how many times she tries to push it away.

“I feel bad.”

He doesn’t look down, just asks her calmly, “about?”

Solana licks her lips. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that badly.”

Roman had a feeling that’s what she was referring to, but he didn’t want it to be true. “Solana—”

“I know. I know I defended myself, but….” She tries to word it as best she can, though she also knows there’s little to no way Roman will abandon his ardent belief that Wes got exactly what he deserved. “I keep thinking about my mom and how….she always reminded me that at the end of the day, Wes is my brother, and a lot of his behavior was because of my dad.”

Roman does his best to keep his voice leveled, to keep out the unsettled anger he holds and will always hold against her piece of shit sibling. He doesn’t want her to think any level of that anger is directed toward her. “You were kids then, Solana. Sure, Xavier probably said and influenced a lot of things, but your brother isn’t a child anymore. He’s a grown man. There’s no excuse for the things he’s said and done to you.”

None whatso–fucking—ever.

And Solana knows that, hence her expressing agreement. “I know you’re right.” Her voice drops a bit, paving way for more vulnerability. “I just….I was so angry that night, and…and I’m not an angry person. I—I don’t like that.” Before he can continue his work to take away her unrequited feelings, she asks almost over a whisper, “what does it feel like to kill someone?”

Her question takes him back a bit, but he knows why she’s asking, where it’s coming from.

“Solana—”

She sits up, looking down at him, eyes watering. “If he dies….”

He brings his hand to her cheek, comforting her, “he won’t. That bastard isn’t allowed to die. Not unless it’s by my hand.”

Roman has ensured Wes has the best medical care money can provide solely for the fact that while his beating was well-deserved, it’s paltry compared to all of the ways Roman wants to make that bastard suffer before he encounters the fiery gates of hell.

Xavier as well.

She shakes her head, sniffling, “I don’t—I can’t live with knowing I took someone’s life. I—” Her voice cracks. “I just can’t.”

“You won’t,” he vows. Anyone who would ever need to cease to exist because they’ve wronged her in some way, he would handle. He will handle. Because he agrees. Solana is a pure soul. Despite all of the evil surrounding and done to her, she’s retained her kind heart and gentle spirit. Killing someone, taking another life, destroys that, forever pollutes the soul in a way that’s irreversible.

Roman would die before he let that happen to her.

But the topic of this conversation, it brings something else up for Solana. Something that literally shatters her spirit to think about, let alone verbalize aloud. But, she has to tell him, can’t keep it to herself any longer. It’s not fair to him with how good he’s been to her.

She loves him too much to continue to lie to him.

“Roman…” Her throat suddenly feels so dry, stomach weighed down by a slate of concrete. “There’s something I—”

“Shhhh.” He sits up, bringing his other hand to her cheek, fully cupping her face. “Tomorrow is your birthday, Solana. You don’t need to be this upset.” He again brushes away her tears, gently adding, “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Her eyes shut. He has no idea the increased emotion is for an entirely different reason. “But—”

Roman seems keen on not allowing the conversation to continue, solely because he dislikes how troubled she’s getting. Sees it as unfair. “It’s gonna be fine.” He then asks, “you trust me, don’t you?” She nods softly. That’s given at this point. There’s no one she trusts more than Roman Reigns. “Then trust I’ve got this.”

Her eyes shut, as she tries to listen and marinate on his words. Her husband is adept at remaining calm and being prepared for any and everything. She…she has to trust that for right now. Trust him.

Has to table this conversation. For now.

Roman guides her to lay back down on his chest, Solana snuggling against him. “I’ve got you, Sol.” Her heart nearly bursts at that, at the nickname she hasn’t been called in years. The name her mother often referred to her as. Her eyes shut, stomach settling, emotions subsiding in the way only Roman seems capable of orchestrating. “Always.”

________

The first thing Solana notices when she wakes up the next morning is the noticeable empty space besides her. The space where Roman should be sleeping, his muscular arm around her body, holding her against him.

Instead, she awakes on her back, alone, with no Roman in sight.

She frowns for a few seconds, sitting up in the bed and rubbing her eyes. The sadness shifts away just as soon as it appeared. Solana knows he must either be in the gym or doing something for work. There’s very little concern that he’s ventured far.

It’s why she grabs her phone off the nightstand only to find a plethora of birthday texts and an attached photo of Dulce in the group chat with her, Naomi, Bayley, Jimmy, and Jey.

Bayley: Happy birthday, friend! Roman’s ass better be treating you like the queen you are! 💙 Love you so much and can’t wait until you get back so we can fuck up some more trucks together! 😜

Naomi: What Bayley said! Happy freaking birthday, Solana! Even if you wanted to, you ain’t getting rid of us. Sisters for life! 💚

Jey: Happy birthday, lil sis! Make sure you take lots of pics of Free Willy over there!

Jimmy: Man, you dumb asf. They supposed to look at dolphins! Not sharks! Free Willy was a shark!

Jimmy: Happy birthday, sis!

Naomi: Solana, you can feel absolutely feel free to mute this chat until you return. 😐

Bayley: Or forever.

There’s a myriad of emotions coursing through her. So much happiness. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey. A family. They’ve become her family.

It brings tears to her eyes and keeps her in bed a couple minutes longer as she basks in the kind words and love.

It also keys her into just what Roman has planned for her big day. That brings on an additional layer of emotionality. He’s so so good to her.

Solana: Thank you, guys. You all have no idea what you mean to me. 🥺♥️

Placing her phone on the nightstand, she finally climbs out of bed and into the bathroom to pee, brush her teeth, and wash her face. She decides against placing the robe over her pajamas. An unnecessary thing considering Roman’s seen just about all of her at this point.

It'll make telling or asking him the realization she’s come to just a tad bit easier.

Out the bathroom and down the steps, sure enough, she finds him, burly body plopped down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, Maria working away to prepare what’s probably a more than necessary, grand breakfast.

Roman’s hearing and peripheral vision is expert level, because she’s barely in the kitchen when he lifts his gaze from the open laptop in front of him and sets his sights on her. One finger beckons her in his direction. An unnecessary thing considering that’s exactly where she was already headed.

Solana is easily guided onto his lap, Roman taking index finger under her chin for a kiss that’s so soft compared to his typically rough demeanor. She smiles. “Good morning….”

He chuckles. “Morning.” His hand moves to her cheek, “happy birthday.”

Heart filled, she lays her head against his shoulder, intentionally not looking at the computer in the event it’s private but still asks. “What are you doing?”

He instead motions for her to do just that. “Look.”

She does, and instantly she’s burying her face back into him. “Roman, I hate looking at pictures of myself.” Because that’s what’s on his screen, one of the photos he took of them at the beach yesterday.

“Too bad, cause that might be one of my new favorite things.” She smiles yet again, a given whenever she’s around him. Solana also finds herself forcing her attention back to the screen, reaching to click through the photos, most of her, which is uncomfortable but still bearable. However, her attention is mostly drawn to the ones not of her, of the beach and nature and scenery that he took.

“These are so good.” She finds herself complimenting him, because it’s true. Added to the long list of things Roman is exceptionally good at is photography. She teases him a little. “You should photograph more.”

He scoffs, an almost bitter tone to his voice. Not directed at her, of course. “When?”

She shrugs. “I—I don’t know, but we can figure it out. If…if you like to do it, then you should do it.” And just like that, she’s determined to help him figure out just that. It’s the least she can do for him.

Truly.

Noticing Maria multitasking, Solana calls out and asks, “Maria, do you need any help?”

The older woman gasps dramatically and waves away the offer as if it was an insult. “Nonsense, child. It is your birthday. You must rest and let that handsome husband of yours treat you.”

Solana laughs a bit.

Roman asks, “what did she say?”

“I asked her if she needs any help, and she basically told me I don’t get to do any of that cause it’s my birthday.”

“Damn straight,’ Solana giggles as he moves his hand to her hip. “We’ll leave after breakfast.”

Being honest, she dances her fingers up his arm, teasing almost, “I know where we’re going….”

Roman gives her one of those infamous smirks which quickly drops when he realizes something. “Which one was it? Dumb or Dumber?”

Giggling, she hands him her phone, opening the group chat and showing him the messages.

His eyes rake over the words, and Solana has to bite back her laugh at the absolute irritated expression painted on his handsome face when he’s done. “Even hundred fucking miles away, they ruin shit.”

She kisses his cheek, wanting to calm him down. “It’s okay.” Solana suddenly asks. “Are you gonna do it with me?”

He gives her a look. “That’s for you, Sol. Not me.”

She pouts a little, gently reminding him, “but…it can be for the both of us.”

“Swimming with Dolphins screams you. Not me.” He adds on with an almost scowl and shake of his head. “I’m too old for that shit.” Curious, he switches the topic a bit, asking, “does our age difference bother you?”

“I never really thought of it,” she answers, honestly. Roman being older than her truly has never been anything she’s considered to be an issue. At the beginning of this whole arrangement, she had a slate of other much more relevant reasons to be cautious and wary. All of those reasons almost making her laugh a bit because they’re so far away from the truth. “So, no.” She shrugs, adding. “I—I never really had good luck with guys my age anyway.” Or, at all, really. “Besides….” She chews on her bottom lip, coyly starting off a leading sentence, “there’s nothing about you that bothers me….except—”

Roman is every bit as eager as he looks for the rest. “Except?”

She bats her eyelashes, almost intentionally trying to butter him up. “If you could be a little nicer to your cousins….”

“Baby, how many times do we have to have this conversation?” He once again reiterates what, in his mind, should be painfully obvious. “I’m not a nice person.”

“But you are,” she stresses, fingers moving through his beard. “You are to me.”

“It’s different with you, Solana.” He’s not necessarily in the space to explain just how it’s different, but it is. She’s in a category all on her own. “Look….do my cousins piss me off at least 8 times a day? Yes. Do I have thoughts of homicide regarding them at least once a day? Sure. But….” He blows out a breath. “We’ve been friends since we were little kids. They’re family. I would die for them just as quickly as I know they would die for me.”

While she understands his point and is grateful for his level of openness and vulnerability, Roman and death in the same sentence brings out an almost physical reaction on her part.

That’s not even something she can tolerate thinking about.

She would lose her fucking mind if something were to ever happen to him.

Solana is desperate to change the subject, needing something, literally anything, other than Roman dying to think about. “I….I know what I want you to give me for my birthday.”

His brow lifts as he asks with a bit of attitude. “You planning on telling me, considering it’s here?”

She smiles softly, finger trailing down his face. “Later….” Solana climbs off his lap, rubbing her stomach. “Right now, I just want to eat breakfast with my husband.”

________

It’s called Dolphin Discovery. The activity Roman has planned for the morning of her birthday, and it consists of exactly what the title implies as well as what Jimmy and Jey unintentionally spoiled for her.

Not that that’s a big deal, per se.

It doesn’t dim her excitement. The way her smile is painted on her face at the private event Roman arranged for just them, the only other people are the staff and instructors who guide the event.

Solana is even able to convince Roman to join her for a short period of time in the water, granted he looks irritated and uninterested the entire time. Still, she knows his focus and priority is just making sure she has a nice time.

And she does.

It’s full of smiles and laughter.

Just as the rest of the day as Solana asks to go to the beach after, fully enamored with the crystal clear water and beauty that is the island of las mujeres. Of course, this comes with the almost stipulation from Roman that he has to photograph her again.

She’s less uncomfortable this time around, posing for his photos without as much reservation. The decreased inhibitions largely due to her overall happiness. Solana hasn’t felt so great, so in love with life for a very long time.

If ever.

But, she’s even more touched when Roman guides them back to the beach later that evening what’s a private dinner for just the two of them.

“Roman….” She can’t help to take in the beautiful set up as he pulls out the seat for her. “This is so beautiful….”

He takes her in as he sits opposite of her, the way her dress hugs her so beautifully, the soft set of her eyes as she continues to marvel, smiling so genuinely at the setup. “Very…”

She brings her attention back onto him, reminding, “Roman, you really….you really didn’t have to do all of this. I would have been just as happy back home with you.”

“That’s too boring.” He dismisses, reaching across the table for her hand. “Too close to people. I wanted you to myself.”

She smiles, teasing him a bit. “Is that why it’s just been mostly you and me so far?”

“Damn straight.”

She giggles, head tilted as she turns his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm. “Me haces muy feliz….”

His eyes squint with intrigue. “You’re really going to make me learn Spanish, aren’t you?”

“No,” she answers softly, focused on her gesture with his hand. “I’m…I’m not saying anything you don’t already know.”

“Which is?”

Her eyes lift to his, locking intensely. “How much I care about you.”

How much I love you.

That part…..that he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does. Solana knows she wears her heart on her sleeve to a certain extent. Knows how perceptive her husband is. But, if he has noticed, he hasn’t said anything. And she’s partially grateful for that, because acknowledging her love for him, internally anyway, is something that she’s okay with. Something she doesn’t really question.

She can’t say the same for him.

Love and Roman have a complicated history she can’t even begin to truly understand. It may not be something he feels capable of anymore, not after the kind of loss he experienced. And she can understand that. She’s okay with that. Because the way he treats her, the way he makes her feel, the happiness he brings her….it’s more than enough.

It’s all she needs.

The dinner itself is just as wonderful as any other meal they’ve had the past two days, but what Solana mostly enjoys is the conversation. Being able to talk to and with Roman has easily become one of her favorite things. Their conversation never goes stale, and even when she worries she’s annoying him, he keeps it going.

He truly is becoming one of her best friends. Not in the same way Naomi and Bayley have. Something different, something deeper almost. Still as appreciated.

And it’s when the dinner comes to a close, Solana is once again taken back by Roman’s nearly limitless generosity when he gifts her a set of bracelets, Louis Vuitton, Cartier, and other luxury brands she’s certain the combination of cost equalling what some people pay for homes let alone jewelry.

The depth of his kindness toward her will never cease to amaze her.

Back at the house, she has a bit of a hard time getting him to use the shower in the master bedroom vs using the one down the hall. She comes up with a weak excuse regarding shower design preference, and while she’s certain he doesn’t believe her one bit, he lets it go.

And Solana is utterly grateful, because she needs to be completely separated in order to prepare for the thing she’s wanted and thought about since last night, since she decided it’s truly what she wants.

Everything he’s done thus far has been more than thoughtful, but this….this is something on an entirely different level.

She’s just stepped out the shower and wrapped the towel around her body when a random thought about what tonight could and most likely will entail flashes in her mind.

Solana closes her eyes and tries to ignore the aching between her legs, even if she knows it’s a fruitless effort.

Roman has been an absolute saint, patient beyond belief with her and this gradual process of working up to being intimate. Always checking in with her every step of the way.

But…..but lately, she finds herself….thinking about him in….different ways. Wondering what it would be like to finally go all the way. To be with him fully in that way.

Ways she previously couldn’t allow herself to think about. Too hindered by the memories of her trauma.

Yet with him, it’s something unlike what she’s used to. Her chest doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode, and she doesn’t find herself panicking, needing to push him away from her, to not have any hands on her because they all feel the same, the same as her rapists.

With Roman…..that’s not her story. It’s just him she sees, feels, wants.

By the time she’s done with her shower, Solana has to reach across the bathroom counter to wipe her hand across the fogged mirror. She hits the switch for the vent and digs through her toiletries bag for the essentials and gets into her routine, focusing way too much on what she’s doing to avoid the thought sitting impatiently in the back of her head.

But, it’s when she’s reached the end of her routine and goes to grab her bra and panties she had sitting on the counter, that she pauses.

Scared.

Solana realizes that’s one of the dominant emotions she’s struggling with. She’s scared to go for what she wants. It’s a tale as old as time. Fear is always the thing that holds us back the most, that keeps us from reaching goals, attaining desires, being freed.

For so long, she believed that she was damaged. That the trauma of her past made it impossible for her to ever have a healthy sexual relationship with another person. But Roman has changed that. He’s changed her life in so many ways, and now, she is presented with the chance and opportunity to take back her power, to reclaim her sexuality.

And now….she’s ready to do just that.

Solana slowly retracts her hand and instead slides her pink, silk gown over her head, ignoring the almost strange feeling of having nothing underneath her dress. Solana keeps staring at her reflection, mentally going over everything: floss, mouthwash, deodorant, lotion, perfume on all of her pulse points.

When she realizes that she’s only stalling, she forces herself to leave the bathroom. Solana makes her way down the hall and into the master. She’s relieved to see he’s still in the bathroom and decides to sit and wait on the edge of the bed. Similar to how her nerves are on edge. In the bathroom, the pep talk was more motivating and inspiring. Now, in this space, her anxiety is doing those damn flips again.

“Solana?” Her head lifts and she stands up. Roman is standing near the bathroom door, shirtless, gray sweats hanging dangerously low, his hair down. Solana watches his gaze darken, slowly taking in her immodest state, focusing on the clear outline of her nipples pressing against the thin material. “What are you—”

She says nothing and instead grabs his hand, leading him to the bed. She switches their positions and guides him to sit on the end of the bed as she straddles him, her legs on either side of him. Solana refuses to think about the possible exposure from this position and instead focuses on him.

“I want you,” is all she says, quiet but sure. “I want you for my birthday.”

His face reads a mixture of emotions, primarily confusion.

And lust.

“Solana….” He seems to want to move his hands to her waist but hesitates. “I didn’t….that’s not why I brought you here. I would never pressure you—”

“I know,” she interrupts, softly. “You’ve always let me set the pace, so….so let me set it now.” She brings her hands to his face, looking him dead in the eye as she repeats, “What I want for my birthday….is you.” A fleeting thought creeps across her mind when she adds, “unless….unless you don’t want me th—”

Roman switches their positions so quickly that she can barely process what’s happening until she’s flat on her back with him hovering above her. His eyes are fluttering as he works to settle himself, breathing out, “I’ve always wanted you, baby. Just needed you to tell me when.”

She licks her lips and lightly glides her fingers over his abs. He’s so firm. “And now?”

“Now?” Roman moves his hand to her knees, slowly prying them apart. She breathes in as he starts to move his fingers up the inside of her legs. “After tonight, ain’t nobody else gon’ have you like this,” his thumb brushes over her inner thigh and she grabs his bicep. “Feel you like this,” Solana’s head goes back into the bed when he glosses his fingers over her apex. “Or taste you like this but me.” Their gazes lock. “Understood? You’re mine.”

His tone is commanding and authoritative. She can mumble a quiet ‘yes’ in agreement when his head drops between the crook of her neck, his hair fanning her face, pulling his hand from between her legs. “Promise me you’ll tell me if we need to stop.”

She gently caresses the back of his neck, reassuring him. “Roman, I’m fin—”

“Solana,” he interrupts. There’s no denying or questioning of the seriousness in his tone of voice. “Promise me.”

She nods and rakes her fingers over his scalp. “I promise.”

Roman is visibly pleased by this, eyes raking over her body. “Good.” He lowers his lips to hers, hands moving to explore her body. “So fucking pretty….”

The light kiss easily progresses into something more intense, something deeper, something that has her feeling so flustered and warm all over. His pants are quickly discarded, leaving him in boxers only. Roman continues to massage and knead her breast, along with the palming of her ass yet still makes active efforts to receive consent, always checking her comfort levels.

Initiating this is major.

Her lips are nice and swollen when he starts kissing around her face before grabbing her hand and turning it over. Two long fingers press against her wrist.

He doesn’t say anything for a good minute, prompting her to ask, “what are you—”

“Do you trust me?”

There’s not a second of hesitation or delay. “Of course.”

“I need to relax you more.” With his free hand, his thumb flicks over her nipple as he explains, just as tender as every other thing he’s done to maintain her comfort. “You’re still tensing a bit under me, and the more tense you are, the more it’s going to hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you…”

Swallowing, she replies back in the same soft tone. “You could never hurt me, Roman.” His eyes flash with something almost soft. Like affection. Like something deeper. “But…I understand. What…what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t want you to do anything. Tonight is about you.” Her eyes flutter shut as he brings his mouth back to her neck, speaking against her soft skin. “Just want you to let me take care of you…” And it’s as he continues to travel down her body, tugging at her dress as much as he can to press a trail of kisses between the valley of her breast, and halting near her covered belly button that she understands what he’s asking her.

And suddenly her cheeks are on fire. Solana isn’t entirely naive. She knows that plenty of people engage in oral sex, but she’s also heard a lot of men prefer not to. Prefer to receive rather than give. “I…..you….you don’t have to—”

“Solana, I’ve wanted to taste you since the first day I met you.” His words, dark and dripping with need make her bite down on her bottom lip as his finger trails along her inner thigh. “Will you let me?”

She’s insecure and a shade of unsure for reasons entirely unrelated to her trauma. Maybe there’s some influence there, but it’s primarily the intimacy of it all. But, she then realizes he’s eventually going to be inside of her before the night ends, so his mouth being on her most intimate area….isn’t really a major difference.

Swallowing, she answers, voice catching for a second with a need she didn’t recognize until this moment. “Y–yes.”

His eyes light with desire, but he doesn’t miss a beat in reminding her yet again that she’s fully in control tonight. “Tell me to stop and we stop. I don’t care what’s happening. All I care about is you. Alright?”

Solana nods. “O–okay.”

Roman kisses her stomach and wastes no time in helping her remove her dress, leaving her fully exposed to him, physically and emotionally. Slowly, he pries her thighs apart, seeing how she bites on her bottom lip when he teases a finger against her.

“Still so sensitive…..” There’s a level of intrigue there, Solana watching Roman push his hair back, his tongue exiting his mouth and wetting his lips. “You’ll get used to me.”

She’s not sure she could ever get used to a man like Roman, and the minute his tongue flattens against her there, she’s almost certain she’ll never get used to that.

“Oh my god.”

He looks up at her, Solana suppressing a moan at the sight of his big body between the space of her thighs, mouth curved into a wry smile. “I barely touched you, baby….”

That doesn’t stop the fire coursing through her body.

“You want me to stop?” A frantic shaking of her head to signify a hell no is all he needs. He’ll settle for no verbal acknowledgement this time. “Good.” Salona gasps as he hooks the back of her knees over his big shoulders. “Now lay back and let me take care of you...”

It seems like all Roman has done is take care of her, but this is a new level of care, one that has her scratching and gripping helplessly at the sheets as he licks at her one, two, three times before his tongue darts around and plays with her in a way that makes her stomach tangled and twisted.

Solana whimpers when he starts sucking on her clit. “Fuck being inside you, just let me stay with this sweet pussy in my mouth.”

For a second, she considers it, because the way he laps and sucks on her has her brain practically fried trying to comprehend how just his tongue alone can have her nearly worming off the bed.

His big, strong hands grip her thighs, holding her in place as he never once lifts his head for air.

“Roman…..”

“You taste better than I imagined.” She swears she feels him kiss her slick folds. “Gonna have you sit on my face the next time….”

The terror at that thought is short lived and stomped upon by his hands traveling up her body, gripping her breast, squeezing just enough to make her moan yet again, head pressed back into the pillow.

His name slips out her mouth for what feels like the 20th time as she moves her hands on top of his, stomach arching, pussy pressing further against his mouth. He makes a sound down there, but sound isn’t the focus when all of her most sensitive nerve endings are being so beautifully catered to.

But then it becomes too much, Roman switching to a lethal combination that includes sucking on her clit while two fingers enter inside her. It has her nearly jumping off the bed, unintentionally inching away from him.

Roman hums against her lifting up only to warn, “stop running from me, baby.” He’s playing with the mess she’s made, essence practically dripping from his beard. “This pussy is too good to not indulge myself.”

And before she can protest, can try to find some words to string together, he’s back in between her legs, and Solana finds her hands moving to the top of his hand. She can’t tell if she wants to just shove him away or shove him closer.

A strange yet wonderful dichotomy.

There’s no telling how long he’s down there, feasting so eagerly on her like he’s been waiting on this. Like, he’s been yearning for this. The same way Solana is starting to realize she too unintentionally wanted this. Wanted to know what it could and does feel like to be intimate, to have those normal, sexual needs met. It was just all hidden and obscured behind a dense wall of trauma the same man bringing her to heaven has helped her dismantle.

She owes him so much.

Especially for the way he gives her an orgasm that has her wanting to scream his name loud enough for anyone within 100 miles to hear. That just might have been the case too if she didn’t press her lips together as she rode out her orgasm, Roman still remaining between her thighs as he helps her through it, letting her ride out her pleasure still against his greedy mouth.

He seems so hungry for her.

When he finally makes his way up, presses his lips against her, Solana moans at the taste of herself on his mouth. He smirks against her lips.

“I told you I’m good at a lot of things..”

She smiles, her eyes blinking. “Roman, I—I’m ready.”

He doesn’t look surprised, but he does look hesitant. “Solana….”

“This is what I want. I—I want to be with you….fully.” Even as the words leave her mouth, the aftershock of her orgasm still trying to subside, she’s nervous. She’s nervous because there will always be that small voice in the back of her head telling her she shouldn't, that she can’t, that sex has been forever ruined for her.

But, it’s almost as if just looking at Roman, at feeling his desire and care for her, it snuffs those voices out, locks them in a closet with a key that he’ll make sure is never found. “I—I want you inside me.”

And there’s something either about that or the way she words it that seems to trigger the okay switch for him. He gently traces the outline of her lips. “We’ll take it slow.”

She nods as he brings his fingers to her wrist again. Her pulse. She realizes he’s checking for her pulse, trying to gauge her heart rate, assessing for any spiked anxiety.

“You’re relaxed, but…it still might hurt at first.”

“I know,” she murmurs, heat rising to her cheeks as she explains so simply yet accurately. “It’s…it’s because you’re big.”

Roman smiles, and that alone chips away a chunk of her anxiety. His smile is so beautiful.

It’s not missed upon her, however, that he doesn’t deny it. Not that he can. She’s heard enough, felt enough, even seen enough to some extent to know that he is very much an overall big man. And yet there’s not a damn thing about him that she finds intimidating, that she’s scared of.

His strength doesn’t scare her. Not anymore.

Just makes her feel safe.

Solana feels him shift atop her, but she doesn’t remove her gaze from the vaulted ceiling above them. He’s most likely removing his boxers, the only piece of clothing separating that part of him from that part of her.

She tries to lower her eyes down between their heated bodies, partially wanting to see him for herself, to see what’s about to enter her when Roman brings his hand under her chin, forcing her gaze back onto him. “It’s just you and me….okay?”

Her eyes flutter closed for a second as she nods, opening and breathing back, “you and me…”

Roman lowers his mouth back onto hers, taking her for a slow sensual kiss that’s timed perfectly with the exact moment the thick tip of his dick gradually descends into her tight, wet opening. Solana gasps into his mouth, taken back by the stretch of him, a slight burning sensation that’s eased by the way he kisses her jawline, asking if she wants him to stop.

The answer is easy.

“N–no. I’m fine.” She murmurs, grabbing him by his face and kissing him again, utilizing the talent of his mouth on hers to blur away the borderline discomfort of his initial entry. Roman is certainly well endowed and an initial level of pain is to be expected, both from his size and her experience. But, she needs his kisses to keep her from gravitating to that other painful experience, to keep her from getting triggered.

And something tells her that he knows as much without her needing to say anything. He’s consistent and dedicated in keeping his mouth on hers, his tongue raking across her bottom lip before he enters in yet another part of her. She does her best to keep up with him, to match his passion, but deep pants often break their rhythm as he continues to sink into her. He feels so deep, and he’s not even all the way in.

And when she’s moaning and groaning at the newfound stretch of him, his voice is in her ear apologizing, asking again if she wants him to stop. The answer is the same as before. Just worded differently.

“I want all of you.”

The good. The bad. It doesn’t matter. She just wants him.

Roman is the one to groan this time, resting his forehead against hers, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

Once finally and fully seated in her, Solana is grateful that he gives her a second to breathe, to adjust to this new sensation. Still uncomfortable, the fullness in such a sensitive area, but also comforted by Roman, by his constant attempts to assess her comfort levels. It’s why after a few minutes she glides her hands up his arms and encourages him to continue. “M–move.”

He’s studying her, like he’s done at every point throughout this process. “Are you sure?”

She nods and quickly remembers his one rule. “Yes.”

Though her eyes are closed, Solana can feel Roman’s gaze burning into her as he shifts his hips, the thickness of him slowly sliding out of her, lessening that fullness only to slowly re-enter, bringing it right back. He keeps this pace, slow and gradual, working her as gently as he can, never not watching for any sign of distress.

And it’s at some point that burning sensation washes away into something unfamiliar but desirable. It morphs into a form of pleasure that has her head slipping back against the pillow, her stomach starting to cave under his expert thrusts. His name falls out her mouth in the form of a breathy moan. “Roman….”

“Does that feel good?” She cries out as he kisses her shoulder, hand kneading her breast. “Tell me what feels good.”

The answer is easy, “everything.” And she means it, there’s not a trace of pain she can identify as she moves her hands up his muscular back as he switches up his pace, quicker but deeper thrusts that have her nails digging into his taut skin. “Oh….”

His head drops down in the crook of his neck. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” His hands drop to her hips, pulling her up to meet him thrust for thrust. “Could stay inside of you like this for hours….”

Solana chews down on her bottom lip, back arching as he adjusts his hips, reaching her even deeper, hitting another sensitive spot that has her eyes watering. “Roman.”

“That’s it. Say my name, baby.” And she does, again and again, his name a song on her lips that’s sweet music he wants to keep on repeat for the rest of his life. “You don’t know what you do to me, Solana.”

Whatever it is can’t be as good as he’s making her feel. Solana could scream from the absolute rapture he’s bringing her body, elevating her to places unseen and almost too good to be real.

“Te quiero mucho.”

He has no idea what she just said, but he has no doubt it’s an expression of bliss, and it only encourages him to dive deeper, to rut into her a little harder. Her pleasure is the roof, but that’s a limitation. He doesn’t do limitations.

He wants to never stop hearing his name leave her mouth, breathy and wanton. She’s a mess underneath him, wet ass pussy gushy, gripping the shit out of him like he’s never experienced. It actually takes a bit of effort on his his part to not come before she does, a arduous task considering she’s never looked more fucking beautiful being underneath him like this, every little facial expression making his dick pulse inside of her.

Roman has always heard people say sex is even better when it’s someone you actually care about. He never believed that shit. He never believed that shit until now. Because he’s never felt something, never felt someone, as good as what Solana feels right now.

If not for her trauma, wouldn’t nobody be getting any sleep tonight. He’d stay in this pussy, have it in his mouth, have it in any and all ways until the wee hours of the morning. Sleep be damned.

But, this isn’t about him. It’s about her. It’s all about her, and he’ll do whatever she wants, whatever she needs. Even if selfishly, he’s working to prolong her climax just as much for his pleasure as hers.

He doesn’t ever want to pull out.

And maybe it’s also the fact that he’s never been with anyone else raw. Never had that skin to skin experience, feeling slick pussy directly against his hardened dick.

Possibly.

Regardless, after tonight, if it’s not Solana, he doesn’t want it.

Her pussy is premier and just for him.

But, it’s when he takes a brief pause, to switch their positions, situating her on top of him, he sees the nervousness wreck her beautiful face.

“Roman. I—I don’t—I don’t know how–” And it’s as she protests, as she tries to explain to him she doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to please him like that, Roman brings his hands to her hips, tugging her forward just enough for her mouth to drop open from the friction, from the way he presses into her, hitting yet another spot that has her eyes nearly watering all over again. “Oh my….”

His eyes are blazed with desire and yearning as he encourages her. “That’s it…..” Her eyes shut, the sound of him asking, “are you okay?” an almost distant thing, an almost inconceivable question. Everything about everything he’s done to and for her has felt more than okay. It’s felt heavenly.

The same way her hands naturally plant against his chest, less of him directing her movements and more of her riding him from her own volition.

The tips given to her by Bayley and Naomi just weeks prior return to the forefront of her mind, and Solana finds herself moving her hips, grinding on top of him as if she was spelling her name.

And almost instantly, Roman’s eyes are shutting too as he sings all of her praises, “fuck, just like that baby.”

She moves against him, riding him with a growing intensity that’s only matched by the level of desire on both of their ends. It feels fucking ethereal.

And when he can sense the pending fatigue in her body, Roman sits up, hands moving down her smooth back to her hips and guides her body against him, hitting her spot even deeper, Solana’s cries of pleasure a continuing symphony of bliss.

“You feel me, baby? Feel me in you like this?” Her head drops against his shoulder as she holds onto him, their bare, slick chests pressed against each other.

She whimpers against him, “god, yes.”

“I told you I would make you feel good, didn’t I, sweetheart?” She nods frantically only to cry out yet again when he glides his hand down and peppers his thumb over her swollen clit. “Gonna take care of you every single time. I don’t care how or where. You want it, imma give it to you.”

His voice takes on a darker tone, reminiscent of his reputation, a testament of the depth of his feelings for her. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.” She gasps against him, yet another wave of pleasure shooting through her core. “Burn this whole fuckin’ world down….”

There’s something about his words, about his dedication to her, to keeping her safe. To keeping her with him. She lifts her head and brings her hands to his cheeks, making him lock gazes with her. “No one could ever take me from you.”

Roman just looks at her.

Something happens. A shift. A move. A disturbance of some sort. It’s as if something snaps in half the minute his eyes lock onto hers. He doesn’t move, and neither does she. No one says anything. It almost feels like no one is breathing. Her gaze on him is just as his is on hers. Deep. There’s something happening at the soul level. A tying of some sort. A connection.

A bond.

Unbreakable. Unshakable.

Eternal.

And it’s with an almost unheard non-existent level of vulnerability that Roman practically whispers against the slick skin of her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss. “I need you, Solana.”

Her eyes water. The connection. The emotion. The love of it all. She doesn't know if he’s feeling the last one, but she certainly is, and it’s the best feeling in the world. “You’ll always have me.” She moans, whimpering as he starts moving her again, nudges that spot yet again. “Te amo con toda mi alma, Roman."

This man now has her: mind, body, and soul.

Her better half.

Her missing piece

It aids in the build up, her fingers squeezing against his muscular shoulders. “I’m—I’m gonna—“

“I know,” his voice is strained, his body tensing up underneath her. Solana knows he’s not far behind. He quickly switches their positions, wanting her underneath him, spreading her thighs further to maximize the full pleasure of this final ride.

Hand to his chin, she forces his gaze on her, reminding him with a hint of vulnerability. “You and me.” Her release is almost immediate, a fountain of tightness and pressure that’s both wonderful and all encompassing, forcing her to lay her head against his shoulder, holding onto him as she rides out her climax.

And it’s not even minutes later that his release finds him just as strong, just as heavy, just as fucking shattering.

Roman lets go, big body jerking above her as he releases inside of her, the mixture of their togetherness creating an absolute mess that coats almost all of their lower halves. But, she doesn’t care, just continues to hold onto him as he empties until there’s nothing left.

Solana groans quietly as he pulls out of her, the absence of him creating a strange, unfamiliar void that’s moderately eased as he plops down on his back next to her, immediately pulling her onto his chest.

This settles her almost instantaneously.

He kisses the top of her head, gently rubbing her back. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

She smiles against him. The answer to that question has and will always be the same. “No. Never.” Tears burning her eyes, she murmurs into his skin. “You set me free.”

Because, he did. Because after tonight, there’s no turning back. There’s no block or wall of trauma that can stop her from experiencing this. From truly being able to say that while her assault fractured her, it damn sure didn’t break her.

Roman’s deep voice above her offers a low, gentle rebuttal. “You did that, Sol.” And as if emotions weren’t high enough as it is, he has to send her nearly overboard with his next simple but powerful statement. “you said yes.”

Eyes closing, she has to sit on it, has to rest in it, has to feel it. With all the emotion, she reaffirms it, reclaims her voice, her autonomy, yet another piece of her life. “I said yes…..”

----------

translations:

“Te quiero mucho.” = "I love you so much."

"Lo’u Au" = Someone who is your absolute favorite

"Me haces muy feliz" = "You make me very happy."

"Te amo con toda mi alma, Roman" = "I love you with all my soul, Roman."

"Yo siento muy bien contigo" = "I feel happy with you."

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

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louisupdates · 10 months ago

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INTERVIEW: Lottie Tomlinson: we lost our mum and sister. Louis saved me

At the age of 20, the sister of One Direction singer Louis had already lost her mother, Johannah, and sister Félicité. Now 25, the social media star has written a book about how they coped

Alice Thomson | Tuesday July 23 2024, 5.00pm BST, The Times

Losing Mum was so hard. I was only a teenager but at least I knew that her death was a possibility, even though she didn’t accept it. She was 47 and had cancer. But when my sister died three years later, I was on this hotel balcony in Bali and I was screaming, ‘No, my baby sister, no.’ The pain was indescribable. I kept thinking, ‘Why me? This can’t be happening again. When is this going to end?’ ”

We are sitting on Lottie Tomlinson’s immaculate white sofa in her pristine white house in Chislehurst, southeast London, where she is curled up in tiny shorts with a perfect tan and impeccably applied make-up. But her French manicured nails are digging so hard into the sofa I think they might snap, the heart tattoo on her minuscule wrist is throbbing and her eyelashes are clogged with tears.

Her life sounds blessed. The influencer has 4.8 million Instagram followers waiting for her to dispense advice on how to apply mascara; the fake tan brand, Tanologist, that she launched at 19 has gone global; and she has a devoted fiancé, Lewis Burton, who runs a luxury concierge business and whose former girlfriend was the late Caroline Flack. They have an adorable son called Lucky, who is dripping ice cream on her marble counters. Her new book is also called Lucky Girl; her older brother is Louis Tomlinson of One Direction and she was touring the world with the band as a make-up artist at 16.

But after her mother died when she was 18, Tomlinson was left looking after her younger sister and two sets of twin siblings, aged eight and two, while creating her businesses, and trying to process her grief. Her father had left their home in Doncaster years before after a battle with alcohol. “Dad had a drinking problem. We’d see glimpses of his good side but he let us down,” she says. “I ended up trying to take care of him rather than the other way round.”

When her mother died, life felt bleak, “I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, and then when my sister Fizz [Félicité] died of an accidental overdose, I thought I could never be happy again,” she says. “I found the lead-up to Mother’s Day devastating without my sister as well. It was a constant reminder that I was now different from my friends. In my dreams, my mum was still there; she was alive. I woke up feeling comforted, only to realise that she’d gone.”

Tomlinson, who is now 25 and a patron of the bereavement charity Sue Ryder, moves easily between telling you how to apply the best tan and how to talk about death. She cares passionately about both subjects and takes them equally seriously, worried that I’ve never tried a bronzer or used foundation before asking how I coped when my mother died during the pandemic. Her soft Yorkshire accent is both reassuring and no-nonsense.

Born near Doncaster, she was only two when Fizz was born and six when the first twins arrived. “I’ve always been the big sister — Fizz and I each got one and then more twins six years later.” While Louis had his own space, the girls all shared one room with bunk beds. “It was chaos, but my mum, Johannah, was a midwife and loved being pregnant and having so many babies,” she explains. “I used to be in awe of the way she could feed the twins at once, one on each hip. She would do the night shifts, while I held the fort at home.”

Within a few years, Tomlinson would be touring America, Asia and Europe, flying first class with Louis, part of the biggest boy band in the world, but until she was 15, the family had only ever gone to France once a year all packed into a seven-seater car, with her mother’s new partner, snacks laid out in the middle. They stayed in a caravan park. On a Sunday, a treat was to go to their mother’s hospital to see the babies.

While Louis just wanted to sing, play the guitar and listen to Oasis, the girls were obsessed with make-up. “From the age of 12, I struggled academically, but I loved cropped clothes and my mum’s highlighters and mascaras.” She learnt how to apply everything from YouTube tutorials, rather than doing algebra. “We didn’t have much money — we sometimes couldn’t afford to top up the electricity meter so used candles — but everything my mum earned she spent on us. We all looked immaculate — I remember her being horrified when I dyed my hair orange. So it was lovely later when we could treat her.”

Saturday nights were spent watching The X Factor. “My mother and brother kept applying; in 2010, he got in and the whole family went for the audition. We believed in him, but we never thought it would go that far.” One day the family were going to the live shows, the next the boy band was formed with Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. “He was 18. For my mum it was a big shock. It was all so sudden. The press and fans were in our front garden every day.”

The older twins had already made their first TV appearances — they sound like Doncaster’s Von Trapps. “My mother was gently pushy,” Tomlinson says, smiling at the thought. “When I didn’t get good enough GCSEs to stay at school, she sent me off to join Louis on tour as work experience. I was so scared. I remember her ringing up Lou [Teasdale], their hair and make-up artist, and saying, ‘Lottie has not got through to sixth form; she’s going to come and assist you.’ I was in the car going, ‘No, please don’t.’ But it ended up being the best thing that happened to me. I went for a week and stayed two years. Lou and I are still so close.”

Suddenly, the two eldest Tomlinson children were circling the world, eating room service and ducking the paparazzi hanging out of helicopters taking snaps. “At first Louis didn’t really want his little sister gate crashing his new rock-star life, but now it feels like the best time of our lives — we experienced that craziness together,” she says.

The teenage Tomlinson found it harder to cope with being photographed wherever she went. “I had some puppy fat which made me very self-aware, and the filler culture was coming in and I felt I had to look perfect.” She had her lips done first at 17. “Then I became addicted: cheek filler, jaw filler, more make-up, blonder hair, slimmer and more tanned. My mum thought I looked perfect, but I was always searching.”

Five years later, when she became pregnant with Lucky and her lips started to swell and crack, she realised she didn’t need the enhancements any more. “I had everything removed, the false eyelashes too. It was liberating.” She kept her boob job, however. “That was just enhancement,” she says laughing. “The rest radically changed the way I looked. My breasts also got huge when I was pregnant and it was a bit painful. But I still breastfed. I loved carrying my child. I felt fantastic even when I was sick and exhausted.”

She leans forward, wraps her bronzed arms around her stomach and whispers, “I am pregnant again. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl. It’s only 13 weeks, so this is the first time I’ve said it publicly. I think I want a big family. I loved having Lucky but after a year I wanted to give him siblings.”

Tomlinson’s influencer career began once she established herself on tour. Soon everything she did, even dying her roots rainbow-coloured, went viral and fashion companies from Asos to Dior wanted in on it. “I was just going for it. I couldn’t believe the money I was making and spending — money I didn’t know existed as a child.”

Then suddenly her mum came home from holiday with flu. “She didn’t want to get out of bed. The doctors quite quickly told her she had leukaemia and she went straight to London for treatment. It all happened so fast. I remember being in London at work and getting a call from her partner — she couldn’t say the words herself, it was too hard for her.” The family were told it was treatable. “We kept so much hope.”

Her mother asked the family to keep her illness secret. “It was hard because you feel so isolated, but I understood. Louis was in the public eye and she didn’t want him questioned. She was determined to fight it and didn’t want everyone pitying her. My friends noticed I was acting differently for a few months. But I wanted to respect her wishes. It was her one request.”

She also dropped everything to go back to Doncaster to help her grandparents with the twins. “The younger ones were two and I wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. I can’t imagine what my mum was feeling leaving her kids to go to hospital.

“I would take them down and treasure seeing her — we tried to keep it light, no serious conversation. The only way Mum could cope was to keep it normal. Then, when the doctors said the transfusions hadn’t worked, she came home to die.”

Tomlinson tries to sound matter-of-fact. “We went to see her in hospital in Sheffield and the next morning we woke up and were told she had died. We felt numb. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Now I am involved with the Sue Ryder charity, I am surprised we were offered no support or counselling at all, from the GP, the teachers, the professionals. They all kept away.” Her nan and grandad picked up the pieces.

It’s not surprising she can’t remember the funeral. “I just remember getting really drunk to numb the pain. I couldn’t come to terms with it. I can’t even remember how we organised it. My instinct was to take over as the eldest girl and step into my mum’s shoes so that is what I did.” Meanwhile, her older brother, who was launching his solo career, ensured there was enough money. “He’s incredibly generous. We looked after each other.”

Tomlinson returned to London months later, after her grandmother said she needed to become a role model for her siblings. Her younger sister Fizz worried her most. “She was very academic — she got straight A’s without trying — but she always said she felt different. She was bottling her grief for so long; it was too much and made her turn to other things. I think Mum’s death destroyed her. Only my mum seemed to understand her. If she had been offered some help at the start, things might have been different.”

Meanwhile, Tomlinson’s self-tanning brand was soon being sold in Los Angeles, New York and Australia, while her own fanbase grew; she hardly ever needed to pay for drinks, meals or holidays. However, she finds the term influencer obnoxious. “I don’t want to act like I tell people what to do. I am more of a content creator,” she explains. “I get paid by brands to create content for their clothes or beauty products and promote that to my followers. I also wanted my own business. I was quite aware that, at the end of the day, I was just working with an app. That’s why I started Tanologist with my business partner. I was always using tanning treatments that would end up turning my sheets orange and my face would break out in spots — this is more natural.”

Louis was also forging his career as a solo artist, eventually creating the song Two of Us about his mother’s death. “We were always so proud of Louis and what he was doing. We were not going to match up to being a global superstar, but we didn’t want to — ‘successful’ looks different for everyone,” she says.

But her sister Fizz was slipping and struggling. “She was old enough to do what she wanted at 19; she was partying and taking stuff to numb everything. She did go into rehab but to me it didn’t feel like an addiction problem, but a way to blank out her grief.” When Tomlinson was invited to Bali, she asked Fizz whether she wanted her to stay behind. “She said she was OK, and then it happened while I was away,” she says. (Fizz accidentally overdosed on cocaine, an anxiety drug and painkillers, her inquest found.) “Louis called me…” She stops talking.

The shock of a second death must have been devastating. She doesn’t speak for a minute while she twists her huge diamond engagement ring. “We weren’t mentally prepared,” she eventually says. “I can’t even remember if the two funerals were in the same church. I think grief has affected my memory a lot and that’s quite common. Grief is such a powerful emotion; it takes up a lot of your brain.”

Five years later, she now knows how to remain positive. “I had an amazing mum for 18 years. I have the most amazing family, my little boy and my career, and that is because of her. The same with Fizz — I had an amazing sister. It’s heartbreaking they aren’t with us any more, but they are together and they are looking out for me,” she says, sounding as though she is repeating a mantra.

Having a baby made her feel closer to them both. “He was a boy — it’s funny, he actually looks a lot like Louis did — and I thought, this is what my mother must have felt. But then I had so many questions I couldn’t ask, even more because she was a midwife.”

Her biggest problem was her terror that something terrible would happen to her son. “I became fixated [on the idea that] something bad would happen to him, so I couldn’t sleep. You go to the worst-case scenario, because that’s happened to you twice, to two of the closest people in your life. I couldn’t turn the lights off at night; I needed to see him all the time. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly.”

We are still flitting between her story and advice on make-up, exercise and clothes.

“I like sharing advice. If a child lost their mother, I would say there is no magic answer. But the point of this book is to show that you can have tragic things happen and still keep going.”

What would the 25-year-old now say to her younger self, struggling at her second funeral at the age of 20? “I would say, ‘You are going to be OK; you will live a nice life.’ I didn’t think I could. I thought this will be a really sad, lonely life without my mum and sister. I wouldn’t have believed then that I could be happy again. But it would have been nice to hear.”

Lucky Girl by Lottie Tomlinson (Bonnier, £22). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

#lottie tomlinson #lucky girl promo #the times #louis tomlinson #23.7.2024 #louis press #full text of the article

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risingoftime · 4 days ago

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WHERE HE WAITS | LOUSTACK |

I heard your hearts dancing ᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: Stack Moore is the man standing between Louis and Lestat. Blood, business, and something far more dangerous than desire.

The smell of New Orleans was different than Chicago. It was sweet with rot and jasmine, steeped in music and magic. Stack didn’t like it at first. The way it made his cigarette smoke hang longer. But the city grew on him, like moss, like a wound you stopped minding.

Tonight was different from most nights for Stack; Mary had just left him, and he was on the hunt for the vampire responsible for the dent in the food supply. He was following blood. Not fresh blood, old blood. The kind that clung to walls long after the body was gone. He’d been in juke joints, card rooms, even back alleys behind brothels. But tonight, the trail led him to a narrow street with no name, where the gaslights flickered like they knew something was coming. And there he was.

All dressed in his Sunday's best, like mourning never left him. Candlelight spilled from an open window, catching on the edge of his cheekbone. He looked less like a man and more like a question with sharp teeth to Stack.

"You following me?" Louis asked, not turning his head. Just spoke it softly, like he already knew.

"I don’t follow. I hunt." Stack didn’t blink.

Louis let out a slow, bitter laugh. "You think I’m a meal?"

Stack stepped closer. "No. I think you’re what’s been leaving bodies all over the city. Just wanted to see if the bloodsucker wore silk."

"And if I am?" Louis turned then, his eyes were dark like the night sky.

Stack’s grin curled. "Then maybe I’ll let you teach me something." They stood there, the tension between them like a loaded gun. Louis stepped forward, hands behind his back like he didn’t need them to kill.

"You’re like us. The only way I was able to figure it out was now. I could feel your presence from a mile away," he said. It wasn’t a question.

Stack’s voice dropped an octave. "Well, I ain’t go flaunting it around like you do."

"Then you haven’t been paying attention."

And just like that, the street seemed quieter, waiting to see who would flinch first.

Louis’s eyes dragged over Stack slowly, like he was trying to read him, and his expression shifted between amusement and disdain. "I’ve heard of you, you know," Louis said, finally breaking the silence.

"Stack Moore. The man turning sweat and sound into gold. You manage that juke joint down the street."

Stack raised a brow, a bit taken aback by Louis's knowledge of you. "So you’ve been tunin’ to the gossip."

"Yeah, it seems my brothels are rather quiet these days. Yours, on the other hand…" Louis let his voice trail off, his gaze lazily roaming over Stack's imposing figure again with an interest he hadn't had in a while. The frustration building within him, courtesy of Lestat, needed an outlet. This moment felt like the perfect escape for the night.

He took another step forward, now chest to chest, close enough that Stack could smell whatever cologne Louis wore; it was undoubtedly rich and expensive.

"… is anything but."

Stack didn’t step back. “Business booms where people feel safe enough to do what they like to do in the dark.” Stack let out a small chuckle at the innuendo. "I’m just good at what I do. "

"I don’t doubt it," Louis said softly, "I’d like to continue this conversation somewhere less… uncovered."

Stack has heard of Louis de Pointe du Lac as well. It was a mouthful for him to recount his name, the Black people here were so pretentious 'bout shit like names. Where Stack came from, you just hoped that you would wake up to live another day. Stack leaned in slightly, testing the tension between them. "This is where you lure men into your lair, pretty boy? Talk numbers and slip in a little neck?"

Stack ran a hand into his pockets to grab a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it with ease, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth before continuing. "Just to let you know, I don’t usually take invitations from men in prettier shirts than mine."

"You think I’m trying to charm you?" Louis smiled, faintly at what Stack was hinting at.

"I know you are," Stack said, lips curling. "But let’s get one thing straight. I like pussy."

Louis walked deeper into the alleyway, his back turned as if Stack’s declaration didn’t bother him.

"And yet," Louis said, not looking at him, "you still stalk me!"

"Curiosity’s a hell of a thing." Stack laughed more to himself, as flashbacks of that night last year. The last time we could watch the sun, the last time he was with his brother. If only he hadn’t been so easily swayed by Mary.

"Temptation’s a hell of a thing too," Louis added. Stack was now trying to be in step with him; this wasn’t the point of his finding Louis. He was supposed to be telling him to get off his territory, not striking up a conversation.

"I live just a few blocks from here," he said without looking back. "One drink! You owe me for lost revenue."

"Just so we clear, I don’t owe you nothin’, not a damn thing." Stack hesitated momentarily, habitually brushing his thumb over his belt where his revolver was. "You always talk business this late?" he asked.

"Only the dangerous ones."

That got a grin out of Stack. "You think I’m dangerous?" Stack continued matching his pace, not because he was curious or cautious. But because Louis wasn't what he expected, and it's been a while since he ran into someone similar to him in more ways than most.

"I know you are," Louis murmured, stepping closer. "I can smell it on you. Violence, ambition… the kind of hunger that doesn’t die easily."

Stack’s jaw twitched. "You ain’t exactly soft yourself."

Stack hadn’t expected the vampire’s house to feel like this. The inside of Louis' house looked like a museum. Filled with decor that seemed as old as time itself. Velvet red drapes covered the windows, and the self-portraits of Lestat and Louis bore into Stack's soul with their inhuman stares. Their gazes followed them like hounds on a scent, sharp and unblinking. Candlelight flickered against skin, and the wineglasses glinted like blood.

Louis stood near the fireplace, his presence a strange blend of elegance and quiet threat. Stack swallowed hard. Something stirred behind his eyes, resentment maybe? Or was it desire, confusion, or interest? He looked at Louis, really looked. The way his mouth curled around danger, at the elegance wrapped around centuries of grief.

"…Fuck it," Stack muttered. "One drink."

Louis handed him the glass, their fingers brushing. "Good," he said. "Just one."

They both knew it was a lie.

taglist | @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax @klssngss @sinnersappreciation @fadingbelieverexpert @carriemill @blankface333 @slugstarzz @king-cookiex @theelusivemidnighthoe @spicyscorpioo @xxx-aurora-swirls @riellarielle25 @z0mmba3 @remmickcherie @casarahsisland

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iwtv-theories · 21 days ago

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How Iwtv may adapt “the vampire Armand” (theory)

Tw: given Armand’s trauma.

I personally don’t think a whole season will be dedicated to adapt tva. But, I do believe a subplot of his past will be developed over multiple seasons through flashbacks and other writing devices . We already have a new Indian writer hired for the show - who wrote a play about living in a brothel . so we’ll most likely dive more into his past and trauma . it’s also foreshadowed that Armand will eventually tell Daniel his story- similar to how Louis and Lestat did. Armand already told Daniel a (probably not quite accurate) depiction of his past with the children of Satan . And Armand saying to Daniel: “Do you want to hear my story? My first memory…” (could foreshadow he’ll eventually tell Daniel his entire story ).

But, given the nature of Armand’s past I assume a lot of scenes will be portrayed by Assad, and some scenes by a younger looking adult actor, along with darker scenes being verbally stated (similar to Claudia verbally recounting her trauma with Bruce, to Louis). But … I also believe that by the end of Armand’s story a huge “bomb” or several “revelations” will be revealed as Daniel asks “a few follow up questions.” Which indicate Marius is even worse than Armand openly admits or realizes. It would be similar to how Daniel at the end of s2, points out discrepancies in Louis’ story (that re-contextualize everything) .

I think Armand will have been turned as an adult, but I believe it’ll be revealed that Armand was younger in his past than the flashbacks indicate. Similar to how certain passages of Armand’s book made him seem much younger than what he claimed to be . In Armand’s own flashbacks he’d be a “BOY masquerading as a gentleman" (even deceiving the audience into thinking he was older). PS, the next things I mention are either from the books or show canon.

Daniel : “just some follow up questions. Your FIRST memory was being chased down by slavers , so you were young… you had to be only 3 or 4 then? No wonder you aren’t positive of your birth name. I ask cause you said you said you were 15 when Marius saved you from the brothel, right? But, you told me that the night he bought and made a move on you that you were “too young for wet pleasure“ - and then 2 years later that was no longer the case . So you’re saying you only started puberty at 17 years old? Are you sure you weren’t closer to Benji’s age when some of this stuff happened ?” (Benji is Armand’s 12 y foster son who was previously abused and trafficked) .

Daniel: “you told me in 2022 that you were a 514 year old vampire . So you were born in 1508? You said you were 20 years old when ‘adoration of the shepherds’ was made. But historians say the painting was commissioned between 1520-1525. So you'd have been somewhere between the ages of 12-17 when he 'donated' you to his friends ."

Daniel: “ I don’t know how to say this, but… are you sure the other young boys (that lived with Marius ) didn’t get donated to his artist friends too? Those boys were being trained as painters and hanging out with Marius’ ilk all the time . They may have had a hard time saying no to Marius’ requests , as well. You even said there were rumors of 'bad boys' being 'banished’ from the house ‘immediately' , for saying disrespectful things about Marius. When you first met Ricardo and he painted you , why did he cry ,throw the paint brush and say“ a very different picture master has in mind for you.” Was he warning you that being painted by someone isn’t as nice as it seems? If Marius wasn’t with the other boys -why did he make all of them show their ankles because ‘to him the ankles of boys were beautiful’. Why were those young boys already experimenting with each other , going to brothels and hanging out with courtesans for fun, and teaching you how to read by showing you “frightening books about men and women in carnality.” Aren’t those all signs that they were exposed to that stuff way too early ?! Marius made you go to brothels to ‘train you’ to be better at bedding men and women. And when you were a kid, you said Marius took you to a “ luxurious house of pleasure", which kept … "only young boys.” You even said that , this boys-house was “Eastern styled” and that the boys looked “Egyptian or Babylonian" . He even bought a couch from that establishment. Are you sure he wasn’t a regular customer there ? Armand… I don’t think he bought you to 'rescue you from the brothel'. He bought you because you looked like the boys from his favorite establishment! And at Marius’ house, the first thing those boys did when they met you was say they “loved you” and wink… are you sure they weren’t taught to do that with all house guests? Are you sure Marius' palazzo wasn't just a high-end brothel of young boys?"

Armand describing Marius' palazzo...

Never forget Marius tried to marry pandora when she was 10 !That man is a repeat offender! I don’t trust Marius at all! idc if all the vamps in the books (or even AR respected him) . All my homies hate marius! And I feel like the show may re-contextualize some of those very questionable details sprinkled in the books , that were never addressed . I think the show will make Marius even worse than the books ! Iwtv writers tweeting: “Kendrick Lamar releases Marius diss track.” And in s2 Louis straight up says Marius “groomed” Armand. I don’t think, they’ll shy away from his questionable actions … but I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of the vamps initially fall for his charisma/wisdom (similar to how he garners respect from other vamps in the novels) . Similar to how a lot of abusers are often loved and respected by their peers. It was Marius after all that initially taught Amadeo how to 'lie' better. Not to mention (Marius' age and and drinking from Akasha would make ) his mind-gift and ability to control minds MUCH stronger than Armand's too . Which could (theoretically) have some scary narrative implications for the future... Daniel run before he tries to mess with your head .

#armand #daniel molloy #marius de romanus #iwtv

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berrystainedsue · 3 months ago

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some of my all time favourite fics!

*as of 4/3/2025

@tommolinson asked me what my all time fav fics are, so i thought hey why not do a masterpost of sorts. these are fics i come back to and reread over and over. there is literally no way i can ever fit all my favourite fics into a post so im going to try and pick my top faves.

Remember Me Before You (293K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Desperate to find a new place to live after he comes home to find his boyfriend cheating, Harry moves into a loft with three strangers.

A New Girl AU.

★・・・・・・★

Escapade (146K) by dolce_piccante

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

★・・・・・・★

Relief Next To Me (333K) by dolce_piccante

What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

★・・・・・・★

[series] No Control Club by SadaVeniren | @sadaveniren

No Control is a No From Me

By Harry Styles

I know this is probably a controversial opinion and review because I have only heard great things from people going to No Control before but I cannot recommend it to anyone. While the facility is nice, the people who work there do not seem to care for their clients well being, and I do not feel safe going there in any capacity. I suppose when I want to play next I will have to travel back down to London, or maybe, unfortunately, Liverpool. If I must.

Aka Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

★・・・・・・★

[series] Your Mess Is Mine (214K) by amory | @amories

Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.

They fall in love.

★・・・・・・★

Eternal Summer (75K) by j_klmnop

After the death of his estranged father, Harry has to make the trip from England to Italy to say his goodbyes. He has seven days before the funeral, and since his summer break has just begun, he decides to make a road trip out of it.

His carefully planned itinerary is thrown out the window when he meets a beautiful blue eyed hitchhiker named Louis, who is trying to flee from his controlling family.

With no destination in mind— just the desire to get as far away as possible, Louis decides to tag along for the ride, with plans to continue on once they arrive.

With a few hiccups and some personal revelations along the way, they both end up gaining much more from the trip than they had bargained for.

★・・・・・・★

[series] A Picture's Worth by unscattered_horizons

ziam (162K) , larry (172K) & shiall (144K) stories

★・・・・・・★

Second Spring (103K) by beechersnope

Two years into their relationship, Louis and Harry encounter a new beginning.

★・・・・・・★

[series] such a beautiful dream (112K) by staybeautiful

Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

★・・・・・・★

For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) (128K) by green_feelings

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

★・・・・・・★

futile devices (i do love you) (103K) by fckingfreakshow

the one where harry's mom gets engaged when he's 17 and he's truly, madly, deeply in love with his 23–or 24–year old stepbrother.

★・・・・・・★

To the Ends of the Earth (68K) by stylinsoncity

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

★・・・・・・★

The World Outside Is Bigger Than Me (60K) by Ioudloudlove

A university sweetheart AU where Harry and Louis haven't spoken for years after a bad break up. But seeking shelter from a storm, Louis unwittingly finds himself on Harry's doorstep..

★・・・・・・★

got the sunshine on my shoulders (124K) by hattalove

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

★・・・・・・★

Baby We Could Be Enough (74K) by lovelarry10 | @likelarryfics

Harry Styles has always wanted a family, but his boyfriend doesn’t. When an unexpected pregnancy leaves Harry feeling alone and terrified, he feels he has no choice but to give up his baby. He finds a family with the adoptive parents, and maybe something more.

Louis Tomlinson and his wife, Jess, have been trying for a baby for years. Their hasty marriage after they first got pregnant has only led to a series of miscarriages that have put a strain on their already precarious relationship. When they meet a young man desperate for a home and someone to raise his child, Louis realizes that he may have been moving in the wrong direction all along.

★・・・・・・★

Teach me how to love (70K) by perfectdagger (sincerelyste) | @perfectdagger

Louis can’t believe he’s third wheeling, again, so he scans the bar trying to find something better to do.

And as he does, he recognizes a face.

That face looks angry, almost fuming and Louis takes a gulp from his beer and looks to the other side, pretending he didn’t even see the bloke, pretending he has no clue who that person coming over his way is.

“You’ve told everyone and their mother that I’m a bad fucker?!”

That’s how Harry greets him.

Smooth.

Not really.

The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

★・・・・・・★

[series] All in the Golden Afternoon (252K) by leighllbealright | @leighllbealright

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed.

Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic.

Somehow, calico-cat-style, they forge a beautiful family from pieces that don't quite fit.

★・・・・・・★

Chasing, Searching, Dreaming (46K) by parmahamlarrie | @parmahamlarrie

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

★・・・・・・★

Time Passed (66K) by coffinofachimera

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

★・・・・・・★

Haven (35K) by orphan_account

"I take it you’re not a new student?”

“What?” Harry mumbles, caught up in the way his eyes are quite literally sparkling in the light. “Oh—No. Not a student.”

“Are you a sub?” Louis asks.

Harry clenches his hands into fists, holding them behind his back as he stumbles a bit. “I don’t, uh—I mean. I��ve never really gotten a chance to be a true sub, you know? My ex-partners were always scared they’d hurt me. But, like—If I trusted someone a lot, and if we used a, a safeword. And talked about, you know, boundaries, then—Yes, yeah, I-I’m a sub.”

Louis’ eyes are so wide, his cheeks puffing out in the effort to not burst into laughter.

“Oh shit, oh my god,” Harry whispers. “You meant—Oh god."

★・・・・・・★

For A Rainy Day (143K) by Ioudloudlove

A secret admirer AU where Harry tries to be the hero Louis desperately needs.

★・・・・・・★

Let Me Be Your Star (252K) by lovelarry10

Louis Tomlinson has always wanted to mentor young musicians. When he’s asked to be a judge on The X-Factor, it’s a dream come true, everything he ever wanted. What he didn’t expect was to meet a curly-headed stranger that would turn his life upside down

★・・・・・・★

these bad omens (I look right through them) (82K) by likelarry

How on earth does someone his parents' age look so damn hot? All of their other friends look... bland and boring.

But Louis, fucking hell. He's something out of Harry's wettest fucking dreams.

Where Louis is Harry's parents' friend and teaches at Harry's university. Harry can't resist getting a taste.

★・・・・・・★

Late Night Talking (53K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Louis Tomlinson has a new album coming out and a second world tour on the horizon. Promo season gets underway with a stop at Late Night Talking, the late night show hosted by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles just happens to be the man who blew a chance to date Louis a decade ago.

★・・・・・・★

[series] all we can do is keep breathing (865K) by thealmightyavocado

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

★・・・・・・★

You Can Hear It In The Silence (234K) by Imogenlee | @imogenleewriter

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options:

1) Move back into student halls.

2) Become homeless.

3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates.

He went with the third option. But it was a close race.

Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend.

If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads.

That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

★・・・・・・★

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) (95K) by auburnstargazer | @harryrainbows

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

★・・・・・・★

Wind beneath my wings (93K) by lunarheslwt | @lunarheslwt

“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry gritted out, wild-eyed. “You should be scared of me.”

Louis opened his mouth to speak, to cut him off, to disagree, but Harry was pushing. “I could hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Louis said, simple and assuredly. Calm.

“I’m capable of hurting you.”

“But you won’t. That’s not who you are, Harry. I trust you,” Louis whispered.

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

★・・・・・・★

How It Would Feel To Be Free (90K) by lovelarry10 | @chloehl10

“When's she due?”

“She said next month,” Harry replied quickly, ignoring the look of shock on Louis’ face. “How the hell am I going to tell my parents that I’m going to be a father, and to a baby born out of wedlock? It’s going to be some whole-ass scandal, Lou, and I can’t ... I can’t-”

“I’ll help you. Whatever it takes, Harry, I’ll be there for you.”

~~~~~

When Prince Harry unexpectedly becomes a father, his best friend Louis steps in. The masses believe the baby is Louis’, but all Harry wants is to tell the world the truth - about the baby and his feelings for Louis.

★・・・・・・★

elephant juice (32K) by stylinsoncity

harry doesn't understand boundaries. louis doesn't mind at all.

★・・・・・・★

Temporary Fix (237K) by dbeaux

Whether it’s a company event, a date for the day, a hookup, a vacation companion, or even just someone to spend time with for a few hours, whether it’s formal, extremely casual, or somewhere in between, no matter what the requirements, you provide when and what your needs are and leave the rest to us. - Temporary Fix

Harry needs someone to go with him to his parents' yearly event. After months of debating and one drunken night, he wakes up to find he submitted the application. He knows it's unfair to subject someone to his life, but when his eyes land on Louis, he finds himself drawn to him. Is it possible that Louis could be his saving grace?

Louis doesn't need anyone. He's better off alone, so why did Zayn send in his application to Temporary Fix? Louis has secrets...lots of them, and he intends to keep them. After all, no one needs to know, but after he meets Harry he finds himself wondering if he can let go and trust again. Can Louis let Harry in? Can Harry accept him once he knows everything?

★・・・・・・★

What Was I Made For (40K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

Louis’ eyes narrowed. “Go on. Tell me how I don’t belong in this world and I never should have been born.”

“Louis … I don’t want to do any of that. I never wanted to abuse your trust, I just … I knew something was bothering you and then I called Liam and he told me that you were … and I just wanted to understand. (…) If I understood what was causing you this anguish, I could help.”

“No one can help me,” Louis mumbled, a tear spilling over onto his cheek.

“I can, Lou,” Harry said in a soft, gentle voice. “I’m not scared of you. I don’t hate you. I just want to help.”

★・・・・・・★

Hiding Place (365K) by orphan_account

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

★・・・・・・★

[deleted fic, link to download] Road Less Travelled (98K) by freetheankles

Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada.

Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not a secluded one as Niall annoyingly claimed.

Louis certainly didn’t need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. His late husband.

A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid.

No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.

★・・・・・・★

Of Mates and Men (630K) by bananaheathen | @bananaheathen

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

★・・・・・・★

[deleted fic, link to download] Where Your Heart Is (154K) by tvshows_addict

Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam– his entirely too chipper step brother– or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books – No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be– The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence.

Or, a college AU set in San Francisco where two lost boys who seemingly have nothing in common find inspiration, each other, and themselves in the process.

★・・・・・・★

No Good Deed (Goes Unpunished) (168K) by JasTheLarrie

A misinterpreted gesture of kindness pits newly-single father Louis against a kind-hearted Harry who only wants to help.

“I don’t need your pity,” he seethed. At Louis’ words, Harry frowned.

“You don’t have it.” Harry’s voice was quiet. Hurt. “I’ve been where you are. I don’t pity you, Louis.”

“Pity or not, you were out of line,” Louis growled through gritted teeth. “I didn’t ask for your help and I definitely don’t need it.”

He was hanging onto restraint for dear life. He wanted to scream in Harry’s face. He wanted to make him feel as shitty as he’d just made Louis feel. He wanted to embarrass Harry the way he’d just embarrassed him.

“I’m doing just fine without your charity. Keep your ‘good deeds’ to yourself.”

★・・・・・・★

A Long Way From The Playground (170K) by Pink_Sunsets

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

★・・・・・・★

feel free to send me an ask if you have read a fic ive recommended! i'd love to talk about the fic with you <3

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