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trippinsorrows · 9 months ago

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looking through your eyes + eight

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

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

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

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

masterlist

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

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

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

It’s too repulsive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Solana.”

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

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

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

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

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

Roman….

He confuses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just…..different.

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

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

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to take care of something.”

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

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

________

Dear Mom,

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

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

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

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

Roman…

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

I’ve never had a man be nice to me.

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

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

I feel so torn sometimes.

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

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

I can’t.

________

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

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

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

That leaves one person.

Roman.

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

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is one of those moments.

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

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

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

“Assess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whassup, my dogs!”

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

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

“Sami.”

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

“Go sit somewhere else.”

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

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

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

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

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

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

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

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

She has no idea where Solo is.

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

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

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

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

Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soso.”

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

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

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

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

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

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

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

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

“I—I still don’t get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some she can answer. Some she cannot.

So she asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

Survive…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you look good.”

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

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

For now.

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

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

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman.

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

“Roman Reigns.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman simply states, “talk.”

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

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

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

“Do something.”

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

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

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

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him not being healthy concerns her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…..

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

About more than just his question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

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

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

Not good enough.

“Make it 20.”

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier is his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That only pisses him off even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

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

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

He knew something happened to her.

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped.

Beaten.

Twelve.

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

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

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

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

He’s fucking breathing rage.

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

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

A fishing trip…..

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

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

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

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

Solana was hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is she up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Until I’m back….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

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

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #thg series #tbosas fic #the hunger games #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus fanfiction

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damiansgoodgirll · 1 year ago

Note

Could you do more with platonic judgement day? Where reader has problems at a nightclub?

the judgment day x reader (platonic)

let’s pretend they won at wargames okay? :)))

‼️mention of harassment, non consensual touching and panic attack, read at your discretion

in the club

it was currently midnight when rhea decided you all needed to go out and celebrate the boys victory at wargames. she opted for a nice and calm bar, knowing how being in clubs made you uncomfortable but jd and dom were in the mood to celebrate so they took the lead and dragged you all in some kind of cheap club in downtown chicago.

the music was so loud that you could barely hear what damian was talking about. you were clearly uncomfortable and finn noticed that too but it has been an amazing night for you and the team and you didn’t want to ruin everything because of your paranoia.

so you offered the first round of drinks, to lighten up the mood a little.

dom and jd offered the second and the third round, and after three drinks you were a little tipsy that you started talking shit with damian and the girls sat next to your table.

rhea saw that in the end you were a little calmer so she joined dom and damian on the dance floor, dancing to music that neither rhea or dam would have listened if they were sober enough. you laughed watching them, seeing how goofy they were.

you decided to go on the rooftop of the club for a little fresh air, telling finn that you would be back in a couple of minutes.

he knew you weren’t a fan of nightclubs too so he insisted to go with you but you saw how flirty he was being with the girls sat beside you and you didn’t want to ruin his night for your little problem.

so you ended up on the rooftop all alone - well, not exactly alone, as it was full of people but you were enjoying the fresh air and the lights of downtown chicago. you were minding your own business when suddenly a man came behind you, touching your shoulders.

“nice, isn’t it?” he asked, referring to the view. he was probably in his fifty so you had no idea why he was flirting with a teenage girl.

“sure…” you whispered, moving his hand away from your shoulders.

“don’t be like that…” he moved you closer to his body “we just started having fun” he whispered into your ear. his breath smelled like a mix of cigarettes and cheap beer and it was making you nauseous.

you were a wrestler so why couldn’t you move?

you faced bigger people than he was but something was making you paralysed. it was the idea of not knowing what was coming next, the fact that you had no idea what this man wanted from you and the fact that your body was betraying you. your mind screamed “move, don’t touch me or i’ll make you regret it” but your body couldn’t move.

tears started forming in your eyes.

where was rhea when you needed her? where was damian or finn, or dominik too, hell, even jd, you needed someone you could trust but no one was near you to help you out of that situation.

“i should go and find my friends…” you said trying to move out of his arms. too many people were filling the rooftops and you knew they were too high or too drunk to help you out.

“i could show you a real nice place if you come with me” he whispered in your ear making you nauseous once again.

“no, just let me go…”

“don’t be a bitch and show me some respect” he squeezed your shoulders a little harder while his other hand went to cup your ass “the things i would do to you…” he said before squeezing your ass.

you didn’t care if you were crying now, you just wanted to disappear.

thankfully, damian decided to go check up on you when finn told him you were alone on the rooftop. he thought he would see you sitting on a bench or talking with some people, he didn’t expect to see you trying to get free from a stranger’s hands.

“let me go please…” you whispered to him, hoping that he would let you go but his hands moved from your ass to your breast.

“why don’t you come home with me? i could rip this dress off and do whatever i want and if you told it, nobody would believe you…” he threatened making you shake.

you were about to scream, not caring if you gave a scene to the crowd, when suddenly you felt the man being dragged away from you.

you heard a familiar voice in background but you were too focused on your breathing that you didn’t even know what was happening.

your head was spinning and your hands were shaking.

suddenly you felt a pair of hands circling your waist, you were about to scream when damian spoke softly into your ear.

“it’s me hermosa…it’s me, it’s all over, you’re okay” he whispered and when you heard his voice you immediately relaxed into his touch, hugging him back “let’s get you out of here…” he said and you nodded.

he took you downstairs, he helped you sitting back at the table and he gave you a glass of water to drink. rhea was talking to dominik when she saw your state.

“what the fuck happened?” she whispered asking to dominik, who had no clue of what was going on too.

they both approached your table and rhea’s heart broke when she saw you shaking, covered in damian’s leather jacket, your make up all ruined and your eyes still teary.

“gorgeous what happened?” she gently asked you.

“a fucking old man touched her” damian came behind rhea, sitting next to you and holding you in his arms.

rhea was fuming over priest words.

“are you okay?” dominik asked you and you slowly turned your head into a no. you weren’t okay, you were far from okay. you just been harassed by some crazy man and you didn’t even want to think about what could go wrong if damian wasn’t there.

“she’s a little shocked…” damian whispered when he saw finn and jd approaching you too. damian explained what happened to the rest of the team and finn was beyond pissed.

“you’re okay…” rhea whispered hugging you, letting you cry into her arms.

“i should have fought back…” you started blaming yourself but finn stopped you.

“it wasn’t your fault…it wasn’t your fault, listen to me, it was never your fault” finn told you.

“but…”

“no buts hermosa, finn is right” damian said sitting next to you and holding your hands “i’m so glad nothing worse happened…”

“thank you for being there damian…” you thanked him “can we please go back to the hotel?”

“absolutely…but you’re staying in my room tonight, i don’t want you to be alone gorgeous” rhea said and you nodded.

you were grateful to have found a team were you felt safe and protected.

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zukosdualdao · 11 months ago

Text

give your all to me / i'll give my all to you

zutara month, day 10: secret, @zutaramonth

summary: the night before they're set to leave to face ozai, katara can't sleep. neither can zuko. "tell me a secret," she asks of him.

warnings: references to ozai's abuse of zuko, kya's murder and katara's discovery, and ursa's disappearance.

other notes: title is a lyric from all of me by john legend. yes this is the second fic i've written about zutara the night before they're supposed to leave for the final battle. no i will not change <3

Though there are several rooms in the Ember Island house, on the first day everyone was here, they’d dragged all the blankets and pillows from them and instead set up in the open room at the front of the house, and that’s how they usually all fall asleep, near to each other—a holdover from Katara and Sokka’s days growing up in the Southern Water Tribe.

Aang is somewhere else, though. She doesn’t know what he’s doing, what he’s thinking.

She doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow.

Toph is snoring lightly, on her back and feet planted firmly on the ground, but Katara’s gotten used to that. That's not why she can't sleep. Sokka sometimes snores, too, but tonight, she can hear his easy, even breathing. Suki is silent in a way she wouldn’t be if she was awake, and Katara knows she’s pulled Sokka up to her side as she always does in sleep.

Zuko is awake. She doesn’t have to look at him or hear anything to know that.

“Tell me a secret,” she says quietly to the ceiling and to him.

“Like what?” Zuko asks, matching her volume, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know who she’s asking. Even in the darkness, they have come to understand each other.

“I don’t know. Anything.”

It takes a long moment, but then Zuko says, “Okay.” Another pause, and then: “I use my bending to get the temperature right for the tea. Sometimes.” He says it almost a little guiltily.

Katara snorts and then looks over to make sure she hasn’t woken the others. Toph shifts in her sleep but otherwise only snores again. When she turns, resting her chin on her hand, Zuko is already staring back at her in a mirror image. His amber eyes are two bright points in the dark.

“That is not a secret. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“Oh.” She can just make out the way his frown shifts into a slight smile.

“Try again,” Katara says again. “Something I don’t know. Something real.”

He takes a moment to think it over. “The day of the eclipse,” he says finally.

“Yes?”

“My father… he said something.”

“Was this before or after he shot you with lightning?” she asks. It’s rude, abrasive, but—she can’t help it. He’d said that almost casually today while training Aang, and for a moment, that uneasy anger she’d felt when he first came to them resurfaced. Only now, it was for him as well.

How could he ever choose to go back to that? she’d thought. To someone who would do that to him?

“Before,” Zuko says, matter-of-fact, not seeming bothered by her intrusive question. Katara blinks, brought back to the moment. “He said… he implied… I don’t know. He said she might be alive. My mother. I don’t know if it’s true, or if he just…”

Katara’s heart stutters. Knowing something like that was awful. Knowing that no matter how she wished for it, her mother would never return this earth was an awful burden to bear. Remembering what it felt like to run with everything she had, only to find…

But not knowing? Being made to wonder? There’s a different kind of cruelty to that.

“If we win,” Katara starts, then pauses, shaking her head. “When we win—you should look for her. And I'll be there with you,” she promises.

There’s a long, silent moment in the aftermath of that.

“You will?” Zuko asks, sounding sort of choked. Katara smiles softly at him.

“Yeah,” she insists. “You helped me. Remember?”

The journey to find Yon Rha… it hadn’t been easy, or particularly pleasant. But it was what she needed. And Zuko helped her get there. Told her what she needed to know. Guarded her. Respected her choice to walk away without a word one way or the other, no approval and no dissent.

Zuko stares at her for a moment, discerning. “You don’t owe me anything, you know. It—it wasn’t about that.”

“I know. But I still want to help you.”

“...Okay,” he replies in a soft voice. Then: “Now it’s your turn.”

“Hm?” Katara asks, her eyes starting to feel heavy with sleep.

“To tell me a secret.”

Katara winks an eye open again. Mulling it over, she leans just a touch closer and reaches over to smooth his wild hair out of his eyes and touch a gentle hand against his face, against his scar.

Zuko leans into her hand.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

#zutaramonth2024 #zutara month #zutaramonth #zutara #zuko x katara #give your all to me / i'll give my all to you #my fic #the intimate hand sweeping hair out of someone's eyes gestures my beloved <3 #day 10: secret.#trigger: abuse.#trigger: murder.#ask to tag //

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honeysuckleharringtons · 1 year ago

Text

"Love and Pumpkin War" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Steve and Reader have themselves a little pumpkin carving competition and it takes a much different turn than expected. All's fair in love and pumpkin carving, right?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,102

Content Warning: mild sexual humor, mild swearing, food talk sorta (lots of pumpkin references), pumpkin guts are mentioned approximately 145294629452946 times, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i also hate the summary yay! 😀

Originally Written: 10/26/2023

honeysuckleharringtons masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

"Okay, how'd I do?" Steve asked, showing off his newly carved pumpkin.

You nearly dropped your knife in exasperation. "How are you already finished?" you grumbled, a sense of defeat coming over you.

He started to say something, then snickered at himself. You raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask, What's so funny?

"I almost said, 'When I do something, I do it hard and fast,' but I don't think that's exactly how I should say it," he laughed, resulting in you tossing a couple of pumpkin seeds at his head.

"Never mind how fast you are," you said sarcastically, "How are you already finished when I've barely scraped all the insides out of mine?"

"Dunno. But seriously, how'd I do?" he asked, holding up his pumpkin.

The pumpkin was supposed to be a regular Jack-O-Lantern, save for heart shaped eyes instead of triangles. Steve claimed the heart eyes would send off the right signal to any 'hot chicks' passing by his house, which gained him a sarcastic laugh from you. However, the hearts came out closer to ovals, the smile was almost perfectly horizontal, and he'd forgotten to give it a nose.

Still, in the spirit of wanting to win, you told him, "It looks pretty good, Steve."

"Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me?" he asked, hands on his hips. Of course, you were lying, but he didn't have to know that.

Soon enough, you were finished with your own carving, showing off your creation to the brunette across from you. Yours was a perfectly carved moon, surrounded by dainty little stars. Sure, you'd used a stencil while Steve was busy at work on his own pumpkin, but he didn't have to know that either.

"How the hell did yours come out perfect and mine looks like a five-year-old did it?" Steve complained.

A smug smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "I'll take my five dollars now."

His mouth flew open in shock. In one swift motion, he was tossing a handful of pumpkin guts, as he'd been calling them, directly at you. "I know you cheated somehow!"

In rebuttal, you were tossing pumpkin goo in his direction, a loud smack! sounding through the room as it hit his hard chest. You knew his mother would kill you both when she came home to see her kitchen covered in orange gunk, but neither of you seemed to care.

Seeds and slime flew back and forth like bullets on a battlefield, squeals and laughs filling the air as the two of you chased each other around the kitchen. At one point, you'd pretended to go one way just so you could sneak around him and dump a handful of pumpkin seeds and goo right into his hair, earning you a loud noise of aggravation from the man.

You'd gotten a bit carried away, almost forgetting about the gunk that now covered the floor. In an instant, your foot was slipping in a small pile of pumpkin, and you braced yourself for contact with the floor. But a loud smack against the floor never came, and instead, Steve's hand was wrapping around your wrist and pulling you back up.

You swore a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch, his fingertips wrapped almost too tightly around your skin as he held you up. Laughter ceased from both of you, being replaced instead by heavy breaths and deep eye contact. It never really occurred to you just how pretty his eyes were. Sure, he was your best friend and you'd looked into his eyes countless times. But you'd never stopped to admire the tiny swirls of green mixed in with the deep brown that colored Steve's irises.

Butterflies floated around in your tummy as he still held your wrist, a look of concern prominent in his features. Steve might as well have been staring a hole straight through you, his eyes filled with worry from your slipping.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Steve was stuttering some form of inquiry about your current state as he looked over you. "A-Are you okay?" he managed, still not having released your arm from his grip.

You nodded, though between the seriousness swirling in his eyes and his electric touch on your skin, you were feeling quite the opposite of okay.

You'd never really thought about Steve like this. Having a crush on him was strictly off the table, considering you definitely weren't his type. And you certainly didn't want to cross any boundaries and ruin your nearly lifelong friendship with him. But when you stopped to consider all the little glances he'd shot your way in high school, all the little acts of kindness he'd done for you over the years, it was hard not to consider the idea of having crushes on each other.

As if once again reading your thoughts, he was finally removing his hand from your wrist, his finger moving up to a lock of loose hair and sliding it behind your ear. His look of worry had changed to one you couldn't quite recognize. But when his lips landed on yours, you recognized the look as one of want, a craving for you.

His kiss sent little jolts shooting through your veins, the scent of pumpkin and cologne filling your senses as you kissed him back. The butterflies from before had returned, dancing and floating around in your belly at the way he tasted, the way he felt.

Embarrassment heated up his cheeks as he pulled away, his face turning cherry red as he realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry," he apologized, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

This time, your fingers shot out and wrapped around his wrist, catching him before he had the chance to run away. "Don't be. I didn't mind it."

His brows furrowed at your words. "You didn't?"

You shook your head, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Between you and me, I kinda liked it."

A smirk came to his lips as he glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the mess you both had made. "Just between you and me," he paused, lips coming close to your mouth, though never making contact. Unbeknownst to you, he'd reached around you and grabbed a certain piece of paper, before holding it up in front of you. "I knew about the stencil."

This time, his lips were met with a big scoop of pumpkin guts. And so the battle continued on, the Harrington kitchen being filled with kisses and slime.

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

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rallamajoop · 1 month ago

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This is really random but what are your headcanons on Mia and Ethan's early childhood? Two, I kind of wonder what your thoughts on a Miranda/Ethan/Mia story would be like (canonically, don't think there's a chance in hell, but it's interesting to consider what could lead to Miranda obsessing over Ethan or Mia in a manner similiar to Rose, because I doubt it would be anything healthy. I don't know, maybe she baby-traps them or something - the baby would have megamycete powers, like Rose.

To answer your first question, basically all my ideas about Ethan and Mia's pre-canon lives are in my fic Quarantine! Probably the only one that counts as 'early childhood' is that I like the idea Ethan spent some summers as a kid living with gun-loving relatives from Texas, just to explain why a guy as mild-mannered as him is still so comfortable using and reloading guns in RE7. He and Mia seem to have lived in Texas, according to Mia's driver's license, at least, and the geography tracks with roughly how long it seems to take him to get to Louisiana, but neither of them have Texas accents, so I doubt either of them grew up there. But they might be more likely to have moved there as adults if Ethan has family and some fond memories of the state.

I have no particular ideas about Mia's early childhood, but hoo boy can I go on and on about everything that happened to her from college to the present day ‒ y'know, the stuff that actually explains all the backstory behind how she wound up working for the Connections (again, see Quarantine if you do actually want to hear me go on about it). But I do like the idea that the music box that was "a wedding gift from Grandma" was her grandma's, not Ethan's, so maybe that counts.

As for Miranda/Ethan/Mia... well heck, you don't have to dig far in the canon to find real support for the idea of Miranda having a sinister fixation on Ethan specifically: I mean, she spends god knows how long pretending to be his wife, and both Heisenberg and Moreau suggest pretty loudly that Miranda's plans involve Ethan 'joining the family', so to speak. The implications are right there, and so much so that I'm already kind of playing them from different angles in both my current WIPs (Follow Me Home and Atypical side-effects may include, FTR). And if I'm not about to share all my ideas on that front, it's mostly because that would mean Spoilers. XD

But let's look at your ideas for now, because there's a whole second ask to elaborate on that one, and it's long, so I'm sticking it under a cut.

That's a lot to cover, so we'll take it point by point. For reference, the post that mentions Miranda possibly getting close to her in some disguised form was this one, primarily about the timeline for how long she might've spent posing as Mia.

Okay, so the elephant in the room when we're talking anything Miranda/Ethan (or Miranda/Mia) is that we are essentially talking about rape, and I'd rather acknowledge that up front. There's no real redeeming a character like Miranda; the nicest possible way I can imagine her getting to Ethan would involve deliberately driving a wedge between him and Mia, then taking advantage of him post-breakup. The more obvious option involves rape-by-deception, with Miranda impersonating Mia. Being Miranda, violence and mind-control are always options too. No judgement here for wanting to go there: this is a horror canon, and there's so much territory here that went under-explored in the game. I'm all for dark scenarios and dirtybadwrong fic, and god knows there's ample potential in what Miranda did to both Mia and Ethan for either ‒ but let's not kid ourselves about where this is going.

So I'm a little thrown by the idea of Miranda 'baby trapping' Ethan. A baby trap generally means one partner trying to prevent the other from leaving a relationship by getting them pregnant, getting themselves pregnant, or faking a pregnancy ‒ perhaps even sabotaging contraception to make it happen. But Miranda is, y'know, not in a relationship with either Mia or Ethan, and the idea of raping someone and then trying to start a relationship with them because one of you is now pregnant is… well, I mean, it's definitely a thing that has happened in some parts of the world, but I think we've left traditional 'baby trap' territory pretty far behind.

Naive as he can be, I don't think Ethan Winters would be particularly susceptible to this one. I can see Ethan being more reluctant to kill Miranda if she's pregnant, or doing his best to save the baby after it's born, but "this complete stranger who impersonated my wife and raped me thinks we're in a relationship now" is a level of delusion I do not see even Ethan falling for. Miranda's canonically 100% willing to use deception, manipulation and straight-up mind-control to get what she wants; she doesn't need "I'm having your baby!" as a tactic.

In other points worth addressing, I wouldn't take Ethan and Mia's fertility as evidence that Miranda would be necessarily fertile herself. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't, but the Winters were infected by a different strain of the mould under very different circumstances. Ethan's fertility may even be just about unique: if anyone with the mould in their system could have produced a kid like Rose, I doubt getting one would've taken Miranda so long.

But regardless of her own status, Ethan's fertility is still categorically the prime reason Miranda would be interested in him. He is, after all, the father of 'her' child, or at least her child's new body. That's plenty reason enough for someone as fucked up as Miranda to get Ideas about Ethan's place in her new 'family'.

And as I touched on above, there is a surprising amount in canon to back that up. Heisenberg states outright that Miranda's been having Ethan destroy her current 'family' as a test to see if he's good enough to join himself, and Moreau's heartfelt, "I should be with her, not you," strongly suggests that Miranda doesn't want Ethan as just another new 'child'.

Then you've got everything she was up to in the Winters' home. Sure, we're probably meant to assume that Miranda impersonated Mia as a means to get close enough to Rose to make sure she was a suitable vessel for Eva without immediately alerting the authorities. Perhaps she originally assumed that Mia was the source of most of Rose's powers, and capturing and experimenting on Mia was a means to learn more. Fuck, maybe she's even had Mia pegged as a potentially compatible infectee and future surrogate mother since way back when she was working with the Connections ‒ maybe that's even part of how Eveline got the idea that Mia was the one she wanted as her mother in the first place.

And there would be so much territory to play with here! We know nothing about Mia's own history with Miranda, beyond the fact that one photo was taken. I've speculated before) that it may have only been taken shortly before Mia and Alan left to transport Eveline to the US, but that's certainly not the only option. There's every reason to imagine that the Connections might've had genetic profiles of its own staff, and Miranda might well have had access to them. And there's no reason to imagine that the Connections would've done anything to protect Mia if Miranda was developing a creepy fascination with one of their best agents, or had requested she be transferred to the E-series project, perhaps even considered as a donor or incubator for the next series. Mia would've had no-one she could've gone to if Miranda's interest made her uncomfortable. In that situation, Mia's disappearance en route to the US might have saved her from much worse. You could really go so many places developing Miranda's history with Mia, climaxing with her capture and imprisonment in Miranda's lab.

But Ethan still remains the more obvious target for any fixation Miranda might've developed with the Winters. I mean, the fact she spent so much time living in Ethan's home, imitating his wife… man, is that suggestive, no matter how you slice it.

The major fly in the ointment of the whole theory is, of course, that none of Miranda's own interactions with Ethan suggest much interest in him 'joining the family' in any capacity ‒ and I'm sure that's the main reason I've never seen much fic exploring the idea. When she finally reveals herself to Ethan, she greets him with nothing but mocking disdain. But that's nothing you can't work around with a little imagination.

Perhaps claiming Ethan was the original plan, but in the time since, she's realised he'd never want her willingly, and is immune to her usual mind-control powers over other infected, and now she's going all tsundere, playing it like she was never that interested in him anyway. Maybe Chris bursting in with guns blazing messed up her original plans to manipulate Ethan into believing that Miranda's twisted version of his wife was always the real woman he was in love with, who would willingly hand over his daughter and follow her back to her village, to assassinate her 'false' children in a show of devotion. The idea of her turning Ethan against Chris (or the real Mia) is actually a hell of an image too, or trying similar tactics on Mia by imitating Ethan. Miranda is categorically a fairy-tale witch-queen, and a willingness to turn on a previous lover who no longer seems pliable or useful is wholly in character.

It's also notable that, as devoted as Miranda is to her long-lost Eva, we never hear a single breath about Eva's father. Was he alive or dead when she lost Eva? Was she ever married? Was he ever more to her than some itinerant asshole who left her pregnant? We don't know, because he's no longer of any importance to her. Miranda is not someone with any obvious capacity for romantic or sexual love.

It's not even remotely clear whether her apparent love for Eva took any form that the real Eva would appreciate, had she lived or been reborn to experience it. Eva is dead, and thus perfect, incapable of disappointing her mother with any mortal flaw. And though Miranda may be incapable of loving, she certainly enjoys devotion from all her subjects, right up until the devoted are judged to outlived their usefulness. I'm sure her only interest in Ethan would be to expect him to express the same devotion, and she wouldn't hesitate to discard him the moment he disappointed her.

Of course, the idea of Miranda developing her own twisted obsession with Ethan, as you suggest ‒ deciding he's already hers, much as she did with Rose ‒ is a pretty compelling angle too. I can't see her loving Ethan, but convincing herself that Ethan was meant to be hers ‒ this perfect father figure for her reborn daughter, host of the same mould Miranda herself gifted to the Connections, so clearly a gift from the very fates in answer to her long years of labour! It's not a huge stretch to imagine her getting invested enough in that idea to be furious and disbelieving when Ethan turns her down.

At the end of the day, it's still perfectly believable that she never had any interest in Ethan beyond what she expresses in game, and that Heisenberg and Moreau were mistaken about her intentions. But had Miranda been a little more invested, or Ethan a little more susceptible to her attempts at mind control and manipulation, it's very easy to imagine the conflict of the game going in some very different directions. And her plans for Mia are a completely blank page in canon, and could go anywhere you like.

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #Mother Miranda #Ethan Winters #Mia Winters #this has no shipname and probably doesn't deserve one #but even so #this was actually a pretty fun area to theorise more about!#asks

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seefullforecast · 9 months ago

Text

D.M

Captivatingly Reckless

Draco x oc

Part 1 Nott manor

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

They had both arrived to an evening at the Nott's home along with a handful of other families. The excuse was a send off to the children leaving for school again in a few days when in actual fact they would be neglected and forgotten about all night. Flora found this to be her favourite of all the outings her mother would drag her to. Theodore Nott was her age also, they were in the same house at Hogwarts, both going into their fifth years and Merlin they could make each other laugh. Flora and Theo would gravitate towards each other during these little get togethers to people watch.

"Oh honestly Flora I am quite astonished!" Theo chuckled as some of his drink splashed due to his careless and over exaggerated arm gestures.

"You can stop with the posh voice, no one is around to listen to us Theo." Flora rolled her eyes recalling the countless times she would trick him into thinking his father was approaching the two of them in the midst of their commentaries. "Besides the Attwoods need all the fashion advice they can get. Surely you can only turn so many animals into scarves, it's just barbaric."

At this point Flora had propped her feet onto the chaise lounge along side Theo who was starting to get more comfortable. He hated these parties, they put him on edge and he couldn't stand when his father held them.

"Yeah well neither of us need to be getting an earful later tonight for speaking out of turn, or falling asleep!" Theo nudged the girl now pretending to snore.

"Theo it's that posh boy voice, it just drones on and then next thing I know..." Flora snored loudly again to receive a hard nudge almost sending her to the floor.

"Okay okay whatever, you're just jealous I can turn mine off and speak normally. You're stuck sounding like that forever. Before we know it you'll have a fluffy little woodland creature sitting around your neck." Theo referred to the fashion faux pas Mrs Attwood adorned and prodded at his friend to which she slapped his hand away.

"On to more pressing news however, Elise told me Pansy was asking after you. Maybe she has finally moved her sights from Malfoy to yourself Mr Nott." Flora teased Theo fully aware of the disdain the two of them held for the pug faced girl.

"We both know your bestie Elise likes to gossip and exaggerate things though don't we Flower. And let's be honest the day pug face stops fawning over Malfoy will be the same day Trelawney actually predicts something!" A snort escaped him as he mulled over his own words.

"Don't shoot the messenger. Parkinson is probably just covering her back for when Malfoy finally caves and rejects her outright. She will need a new target, that's what leaches do they suck all of your energy and you happen to be in her line of sight behind Malfoy." Flora stated matter of factly shooting a pointed look to Theo almost warningly.

"You two already that bored that you've resorted to talking about yours truly?" A new voice drawled out startling the two. Platinum blonde hair came into view. It had grown since the last time Flora seen him. He was taller too but he still looked as pristine as ever and unlike Theo's, his shirt was still tucked in neatly.

"Ah speak of the devil and he shall appear!" Theo theatrically sang making Flora giggle and Draco playfully roll his eyes.

Draco often found the two in a corner at these sort of functions. They never really mingled around the room. Now Draco wouldn't go as far as to say he was jealous but whilst those two could sit and chat all night to each other, his parents would showcase him to any and everyone they could find and make him converse with people he had never met. So indeed he was jealous.

"Manage to sneak away then Malfoy?" Theo questioned as Malfoy only ever seemed to talk to them for a few moments at these parties before he was back to working the room.

"If so then you really did a horrid job because here comes your mother now with mine close behind." Flora grumbled clearly agitated as her and Theo stood up straightening their postures.

In a moment of realisation Flora also quickly grabbed hers and Theo's glasses and discarded them on a table behind them to which Draco sent a knowing look. Flora shrugged at him and the three of them put on wide smiles simultaneously.

Lilian Dalton and Narcissa Malfoy had been acquainted for quite some time and would often write to one another. Flora couldn't tell if they were actually friends or whether they simply kept each other company. It was clear the two didn't have many other people to turn to for solace.

"My look at you three, you all look lovely all dressed up!" Narcissa beamed at the small group that were already starting to grow taller than their parents. Draco sent a smirk to Theo and Flora who were mumbling small thank yous.

"Oh Draco your Mother has been telling me all about how your studies are coming along. I must say how lovely it is to hear of such excellent work." Lilian's words whether she intended it or not were icy to Flora but her smile did not falter.

"Yes indeed I also mentioned to Lilian about how well you..." At Narcissa's input both Theo and Flora found an escape to slip away whilst the attention was on the Slytherin Prince himself. Flora thought it to be the one time she had ever been grateful for his presence. The two scurried off but not before she quickly turned back to mouth a 'sorry' and give the boy a small shrug knowing he was now outnumbered.

Draco watched them both leave and perch themselves across the other side of the room where Mrs Attwood was now making her way towards unbeknownst to them. His line of sight drifted from his mother directly in front of him to Flora and Theo as the night went on. He couldn't seem to find an exit in the conversation.

At this point the party was dwindling down to an end and Draco and his mother were merely waiting for his father and Mr Nott to return from the upstairs study. Lilian Dalton wouldn't leave until Narcissa did so that meant during this entire time Draco could see Flora and Theo in fits of laughter in the far corner. For some reason Theo was now wrapping a dead fox scarf around an unimpressed Flora which had him doubled over clutching his stomach. At least Elise Campbell wasn't here, the three of them would've been wrecking havoc by this point. Most likely in a strategic manner to end the dreaded evening sooner.

"So whatever are the plans for this year Flora? The papers say Potter avoided expulsion in the end after his hearing. Fancy that, he can defeat The Dark Lord as a mere baby but struggles to make it all the way through school." Theo was now sloshing around a new drink he had picked up from somewhere and was tugging Flora to sit by him near the fire after escaping Mrs Attwood.

"You know this is the last place we should be speaking of such topics." Flora became all too aware of some of the guests within the room. She was also aware of the select few who had left sometime ago upstairs and were yet to return, Theo's father included.

"Besides I think what you really want to ask me is however do you catch the attention of a girl, now you have Parkinson on your tail. If you could call her a girl, I see her as more of a demon sent to bring misery to our lives." Flora held a hand to her heart to show she was there for him when he needed the girl advice he clearly wasn't about to seek out anytime soon.

"Oh is that right Flower? I'll make sure to send pug face your way then the next time I see her since you deal with her so well, best of friends you two." His sarcastic lopsided grin earned him a playful shove but Flora's expression warned him of the severity of his words.

"She may be horrid but she certainly does not compare to this oaf I know. Oh what was his name? Leo? No Rio? Whatever it was, this boy..."

"Is devilishly handsome, a comedic genius, the sun of your universe that you revolve around?!" Theo interrupted before any insults could be thrown his way.

"He wishes! No, this boy can really throw a temper tantrum like none you've ever seen." Theo was already rolling his eyes at Flora's exaggerated arm movements and mocking voice, and she was trying to say he was the dramatic one. "I remember on one occasion he refused to leave the common room to go on the Hogsmeade trip because it was raining!" This earned her an exasperated groan in response from him as he hated any time she brought this up.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I had a pumpkin pasty that just didn't agree with me." His eyes grew distant as he shuddered at memories that seemed to haunt him.

"Merlin forbid anyone cross you when you're not feeling your best. You really did shout at me for suggesting it wasn't the pasty but rather you didn't want to get your hair wet." Flora took a large swig of her drink and looked to the fire that was still going strong. Although she loved talking with Theo, she really was tired.

Mesmerised with the flames before her, she yawned.

"That boring am I?" Theo had turned his head towards her, it still resting on the large armchair. The glow of the fire illuminated his face. Flora could also see his heavy eyes and hoped this meant it was getting late and the party would end soon.

"I should go find my mother, should be leaving soon." He gave her an understanding nod. The two stood and faced each other neither knowing whether to hug one another or shake hands but resulted in a simple high five before departing ways. There was no need for proper goodbyes as they would see each other soon at school.

In no time at all Flora had spotted her mother over next to the door where herself and all three of the Malfoys were putting their coats on.

"Ah there you are Flora, where on earth have you been?" Lilian hushed her voice slightly as she passed her daughter her coat.

"Just keeping up appearances mother, just how you like it." This elicited a tut from her mother and a secret grin from Draco who found it amusing to watch their little squabble. He liked seeing it wasn't just his parents that were overbearing.

"Well Lilian as always it has been a pleasure." Lucius graciously bid his farewell followed by a hug from Narcissa and a promise to write soon to her.

"And you write to me also while you're at school. It feels like you and Draco have grown so quickly, where has the time went." Flora's eyes darted to him where he seemed to be in a similar situation with her own mother. Narcissa squeezed Flora's arms before bringing her into a quick hug.

"I shall don't worry." Lilian and Flora gave one last farewell to the three Malfoys before all of them disapparated out of the Nott home.

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Like most nights, Draco was writing in his journal upon returning home. His thoughts still lingered on the party as he tried to recall the names and faces of new people he met. It would be embarrassing for his family if he was to mix any of them up the next time he seen them.

Minor things like remembering names seemed futile now. He felt the change that was happening, something much bigger than him or anything he could imagine. Draco wasn't stupid. He was certain it had everything to do with Harry Potter supposedly encountering the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament last year. Whatever was around the corner seemed to have his mother in a constant state of worry and had his father locked away in his study all too often.

To Draco family meant everything and that was something his mother had taught him from such a young age. She would tell him he could have anything and everything he wanted but none of it would mean anything if he wasn't with the ones he loved. Draco was sure he loved his family or at least was certain he would be upset if anything was to happen to any of them. That's what love is, isn't it?

"Draco." His mother quietly called with a single knock already pushing his bedroom door slightly ajar. He quickly threw shut his journal and lost it amongst his bed covers. "You're still awake I see."

"You aswell." He nodded towards her as she sat herself down on the edge of his bed. She looked around his room before her eyes finally landed on her son.

"It was nice to see you with your friends tonight." She spoke as if she was trying to find anything at all to say.

"We only spoke a short time mother. The three of us aren't that close." He explained but her reaction was only of confusion.

"You have all known each other all your lives, I find that hard to believe." Narcissa was always so sure of Draco but he was growing up quickly. Too quickly she feared.

He was her only child and it was important she knew him. She never wanted him to think she didn't care because that would be far from the truth. She probably loved him too much that it was all she was capable of. Some nights when he was away at school she couldn't sleep because she was so filled with dread. That was because she knew what was looming. Draco may have had his suspicions but never would he come close to the actual fact of the matter.

"Theo and Flora seem like much better company than, who is it again, Gregory and Vincent?" Narcissa had met Crabbe and Goyle a handful of times. She would struggle to tell you anymore about the two other than their names for truly they seemed to be quite frankly dull.

"Crabbe and Goyle are my friends mother, what is this about?" Draco suddenly became curious why he was being questioned of the company he kept so late at night and so close to returning to Hogwarts.

"Nothing dear honest." She sweetly smiled. "Just if anything, promise to make more of an effort with others this school year. Good friends are so important. And Flora's a lovely girl, we wouldn't want her getting into any trouble. Her mother has been telling me she's been turning into a bit of a handful as of late." Narcissa was a smart woman. She wanted Draco to be supported in every aspect of his life. His destiny was out of her hands but so help her she would do anything in her power to protect him.

"Are you trying to ask me to spy on Flora this year so you can report back to her mother?" Draco was simply baffled and couldn't understand what his mother was trying to say to him.

"No of course not don't be silly" she began "I'm looking out for you Draco. People like Flora Dalton and Theodore Nott, you want them in your life. They're the kind of people that will have your back..."

"Crabbe and Goyle have always had my back!" Draco sharply interjected.

"But they will also be honest with you and tell you what you need to hear even if you don't want to." Narcissa finished as if he hadn't even interrupted her. "I'm not saying to betray the friends you have now but simply to consider what may be best for you."

That was not the first time in his life Draco had heard such similar words. He was always being told to sacrifice what he was comfortable with to instead endure what would make him, more importantly his family, look good.

Draco's mother left him with his thoughts and the memory of her saddened smile. He could never truly think back on a time when he saw his mother happy. Draco feared this was what kind of life awaited him in the future and dreaded never escaping from it.

He considered his mother's suggestions and continued writing in his journal as if to find the answers within the pages if he wrote enough.

☀︎☽☁︎⭐︎

Read Part 2

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #slytherin #draco fic #slow burn #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies #friends to more #harry potter #hogwarts oc #theodore nott #draco malfoy x reader #fanfic #order of the phoenix #draco x oc #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #oc #harry potter au

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hairstevington · 2 years ago

Text

flowers and ink (part 5)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie and Steve go on their first date, kind of. Robin is there, but they still manage to find time alone. Especially after Eddie surprises Steve with an ace up his tattooed sleeve.

(part one, part two, part three, part four, link to Ao3)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Florist/Tattoo Artist trope, modern day AU, fluff af, FIRST KISS WOO, not to spoil lmao, first date, Platonic Stobin, Gareth is the moment

A/N: Lmao remember when this was gonna be 2 parts? HA! This one is kind of unhinged but I hope you like it. PS - There is a reference to a Djo song in here. Can you find it? Also, I cannot take credit for the line “clenched fist with hair.” I just rewatched The Haunting of Hill House and that description sends me. Enjoy!

Eddie wasn’t nervous. Why would he be nervous? He went to these kinds of shows at bars all the time. He was in his element, surrounded by people he knew. He had the power.

It was just a date. He’d been on a million of those. Well, he’d been on a few. He was less of a date kind of guy and more of a “let’s hang out and eventually we’ll just be in a relationship” kind of guy. Even still, it wasn’t like he had that much experience - especially as an adult.

“Dude, relax,” Gareth said with a light laugh.

Okay, he was nervous. He didn’t want to be, but it’s not like anybody can control their feelings. It had been a very long time since Eddie had felt so stupidly giddy about someone. And for it to be pretty-boy Steve of all people??

Eddie didn’t date people like Steve, generally. He dated, like, red flags in leather jackets. Shockingly, they never seemed to work out.

“It just feels different,” Eddie muttered, fully embarrassed by this whole thing.

“Munson,” Gareth deadpanned. “Have you ever considered maybe that’s a good thing?” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed. And then, a man and a woman who were absolutely not dating walked through the front door, and Eddie froze. “Oh shit. They’re here.”

Gareth practically tumbled over his drum set, knocking on a cymbal as he did so. He peered over Eddie’s shoulder so he could see better. They both stared, slack-jawed, at the pair across the room.

“Holy shit,” Gareth mumbled. “That’s - you - him?”

“Him,” Eddie confirmed.

How the fuck did this man make black jeans and a t-shirt look so good? There was a vibrancy and confidence to him that he didn’t usually have at work. Eddie was used to seeing Steve around all sorts of pretty flowers. Now he was surrounded by dark walls, sticky counters, and metalheads, and he somehow looked cool as shit despite being a little different from everyone else.

“Goddamn, Flower Boy’s a heartbreaker for sure,” Gareth said. He smacked Eddie on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

“Are you nervous?” Robin asked as they walked into the bar.

“Actually, no,” Steve answered. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m really nervous to go on your first date with Eddie,” Robin replied sarcastically. “I’m fine, just figuring out my game plan, here.”

“Your game plan?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Like, I’m not going to just be right next to you the whole time, that would be weird. So I’ll have to find someone else to talk to, or pretend I have a UTI and go to the bathroom every five minutes or something.”

“Or you could just get a drink, enjoy the music…” Steve suggested playfully.

“Whatever,” Robin replied with a laugh. “Here he comes, don’t be an idiot!”

“Being an idiot is part of my charm,” Steve responded. He watched as Eddie weaved through the people at the bar, looking just as he always did. Which was, ya know, insanely hot.

“Steve, hi!” Eddie greeted him. There was a moment where neither of them knew if this was a handshake or a hug moment, but they recovered quickly (and evidently decided neither was appropriate). “Robin, nice to see you. The show starts in like fifteen minutes. Do you want a drink?” Robin and Steve nodded, and then the three of them were off to the bar.

Steve paid for all three of them, even though Eddie tried to pick up the tab at first. Steve just thought it was weird to have his date pay for him AND his emotional support lesbian. Once they were served, Robin gasped.

“Oh my god,” she said. “I just forgot I have to call my - my Aunt Shirley. She missed her flight and ended up having to drive in a rental car across the country with a total stranger, and I promised I’d check in.”

“Oooookay…” Eddie said. Robin flitted off, and Steve burst out laughing. “How much of that was a lie?”

“Well, she does have an Aunt Shirley,” Steve replied. “The rest was from a movie we watched last week.”

“Very nice,” Eddie grinned. “And subtle.”

“She’s good like that,” Steve replied, returning the smile.

They continued chatting about their days, then ended up on a tangent about video games. Talking to Eddie was easy. Fourteen minutes later, Robin came back.

“How’s our gal Shirley?” Eddie asked with a smirk. Robin chuckled.

“She’s good. The car got set on fire, so that’s a bummer, but she’ll figure it out,” she joked. The three of them laughed, and then the radio cut out, and the lights dimmed. Four men walked onto stage, and people in the crowd clapped. Eddie was cheering, so Steve did too.

“Hello everyone, we are Corroded Coffin,” the lead singer began. “- and we hope you get good and drunk tonight so that we sound even better.”

Laughter, then more cheering. Steve wasn’t really sure what he was in for, but then the music began, and he figured it out pretty quickly.

So, it was like, metal. Not Steve’s favorite, but that’s okay. He could practically feel Robin shrinking beside him though. She was really not a fan of the loud, angry stuff.

But truthfully, Steve didn’t care that much about the music. He cared more about Eddie next to him, and the way he was absolutely beaming.

“Are you a big fan of these guys or something?” Steve asked between songs.

“Something like that!” Eddie replied.

“I need to walk my dog!” Robin chimed in, disappearing again.

Steve finished his drink and felt a need to do something with his hands now that he no longer had a cup to carry. It wasn’t the kind of scene where he could just hold Eddie’s hand or anything, but Steve was all about physical touch. He refrained, just because he didn’t know how to navigate this space. It was all kind of foreign to him.

The band was good. The crowd loved them. Eddie loved them. Hell, Steve even loved them. They put on a decent show with a nice mix of covers and originals. Some of the covers were even songs that Steve knew well.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, ducking away from Steve and disappearing into the bar. Robin swooped in almost immediately.

“Where’s he going?” Robin asked.

“I dunno, maybe he has a dog too,” Steve teased. “You don’t have to keep making up reasons to leave us alone, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun,” Robin replied, as if it were obvious. “And considering this show is my actual hell, I’ll take fun where I can get it.” Steve chuckled.

“If you wanna head out, that’s okay. I think I can take it from here,” he permitted.

“Steve,” Robin replied, acting like she was on the verge of tears. “If you weren’t on a date right now I’d propose.”

“I already proposed to you last month, remember?”

Robin had come home with a surprise pizza after Steve had a particularly hard day. He nearly cried with happiness.

“Oh, right. Shit, does Eddie know?” Robin joked. The two of them laughed, and then they were interrupted by the band.

“Alright, you guys,” the lead singer said. “Thank you for being such a great crowd, and for giving us a few minutes to set up here. We have a special treat for you tonight.”

“Imagine they just start playing Barbie Girl or something,” Steve said.

“God, I wish,” Robin replied with a smirk. The lead singer continued.

“Back when the band first started, we had a different guitarist,” he announced. “And tonight, the original legend himself is here, so we thought we’d save him some spotlight. Everyone, give it up for Eddie Munson!”

“Um, okay,” Robin said. “Never mind. I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve was so shocked, there was a moment where his brain convinced him that the guitarist in question just so happened to have the same name as his date. But then Eddie walked out on stage, grinning from ear to ear, and taking the place of the guy who’d been playing guitar up to that point. Eddie slung it over his shoulder, looking completely comfortable and at home, and then waved to the audience.

After a minute of adjustment, they started playing Master of Puppets.

Steve’s eyes bugged out of his head. He’d never been more attracted to anyone in his life.

When Gareth offered to have Eddie join the stage for a song, there was no way he could pass it up. Not only was he excited to play with his friends again, but he never felt more confident than he did when he was performing. It was a rush he’d come to miss these last few years.

Back then, they usually just played for a couple of drunks in dive bars. This time, the bar was packed. It still wasn’t the Garden or anything, but it felt just as good.

Master of Puppets was a song he’d learned in high school, and they used to close every show with it. Eddie didn’t play guitar as often anymore, but muscle memory is a crazy thing. He also tattooed people for a living, so he was generally pretty precise with his hands.

He’d ran through it a few times before the show, and was surprised at how quickly it came back to him. He didn’t miss a note.

After his song, the band took a little break. Eddie still felt high as he stepped off the stage and made his way back to where Steve and Robin had been standing. Gareth trailed behind him, desperate to meet the man who had managed to soften the clenched fist with hair that was Eddie Munson.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Steve said as they approached him. The blush on his face combined with the playful tone of his voice let Eddie know he’d done what he’d set out to do.

“What?” Eddie replied, smirking.

“That was -” Steve stuttered. “- I mean - and you - and you didn’t -”

“Hi, I’m Gareth!” Eddie’s friend extended a hand out to shake with both Robin and Steve. “Eddie and I are old friends, and I had the amazing idea to bring him on stage tonight so that I could be the world’s best wingman. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Come on, dude,” Eddie said to Gareth. “Let me look cool for at least ten seconds before you give me away.”

“That’s okay,” Robin said, glancing at Steve beside her. “I think his brain short-circuited.”

“Eddie, can we -?” Steve asked. “Uh, go somewhere private?”

Eddie wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing. He hoped it was a good thing, obviously, but Steve’s face was completely blank. Maybe Steve hated metal music. He hadn’t asked or prepared the guy when they planned this whole thing.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said, pretending he wasn’t thinking a million things at once. He led Steve back through the crowd and to a backstage area, where he’d been with Gareth and the rest of the band earlier in the night. Once they were alone, the silence around them felt suffocating. “Uh, is everything o-”

And then Steve was kissing him. Eddie was stunned, but only for a brief moment. Steve pulled away.

“This is okay, right?” he asked.

“Yeahyeahyeah,” Eddie responded, pulling him right back in.

Dating might not have been Eddie’s specialty, but making out sure was. Of course, Steve seemed to be excellent at both.

“Damn,” Steve muttered, his lips brushing Eddie’s. “Felt like if I didn’t do that I’d explode or something.”

Steve was hot, sensitive, funny, and a great kisser.

Eddie was in deep shit. Welcome back, Heart-Eyes Munson.

“So,” Gareth said, now that he was alone with Robin. “What was that about?”

“Well,” Robin responded. “I know Steve pretty well, and it’s very likely they’re sucking face back there.”

“You think?” Gareth asked, amused. “Wow. Look at our boys go.”

“Took them long enough,” Robin said.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Gareth asked. Robin froze, unsure how to respond. “I’m kidding. I can tell you hated it, and that’s okay.”

“I didn’t hate it,” Robin clarified. “Like, if it was this or the one-woman show, I’d choose this.”

“One-woman show?” Gareth asked.

“Oh, right. You don’t know me. Ha,” Robin replied. Talking to new people made her kind of nervous. That’s why she loved being around Steve, because he always just kinda knew what she was thinking and had all the context of her madness. “It’s a - Steve and I were talking about it earlier.”

“Okay, well we’ve still got time before I go back on.” Gareth said, urging Robin to continue.

“Uh, okay,” she began. “So, you’re not from here, right?” Gareth shook his head. “Okay, so basically all over town there’s this flier advertising this mysterious one-woman show. It says nothing about the show or the woman performing it, just that it’s ‘a solid 6 out of 10 experience,’ said by some random reviewer, and apparently the show is called Pot of Gold.”

“Damn,” Gareth replied. “And you’d rather be here than go to that?” Robin chuckled.

“Yeah, because I don’t trust it. Like, what if it’s secretly a multi-level marketing thing or I get kidnapped or it’s really just a prank show and then my dumb ass is on camera? What if I hate it but I’m too awkward to leave, so then I just have to sit there while a single person talks at me? Oh God, what if I’m the only one in the audience?”

“You have thought about this a lot,” Gareth teased. Robin shrugged. “I get it, but honestly it sounds kinda fun. I’m here for a couple days. I’d go with you, if you want. It would get rid of the possibility of you being alone at least!”

“Oh,” Robin said, blushing. She hated doing this next part. “That’s really nice of you, but uh - I mean, I’m gay.” Gareth laughed, completely unfazed.

“Yeah, Eddie already briefed me,” he joked. “I’m not hitting on you, I swear. I’m just mad curious now, and I live for the chaos.”

“I see why you and Eddie are friends,” Robin said. “Yeah, maybe. I’ve been dying to know what it’s about, honestly.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Gareth agreed. “I could probably get the other guys to join if that helps. Eddie and Steve too, unless they’re gonna be gross.” Robin laughed.

“Okay,” she said. “Then, I mean - if you want to? It could be fun as a group.”

“And if it’s not, we can make fun of it afterwards over some beers or something.”

Robin realized at that moment that it had been a while since she had made new friends. The band wouldn’t be in town for very long, but the idea of hanging out with them did actually seem fun.

“Deal,” she confirmed.

The two certified idiots Eddie and Steve came bumbling back moments later, showing all telltale signs that Robin had been correct - flushed faces, mussed hair, and a far more relaxed dynamic between the two of them.

“Hey guys,” Eddie greeted them casually. “Sorry, Steve just had to kiss me real quick.” Steve somehow became even redder than he had just been. He laughed nervously and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You’re really not discreet, are you?” Steve asked. Eddie leaned over and spoke low enough that only Steve could hear.

“No, but now you know a good way to get me to shut up.”

Steve’s heart stopped. Lord almighty. Eddie stood straight again, acting as if he hadn’t just said what he’d said. Apparently, he could be discreet when he wanted to be. Eddie nonchalantly reached over and interlocked his fingers with Steve’s, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

“Well, I guess I better get back up there,” Gareth said, excusing himself.

“And it looks like my work here is done, too,” Robin said, curtsying before exiting as well.

Steve felt much better now that they’d crossed that physical barrier. He kept himself attached to Eddie the rest of the night, enjoying the music while barely registering it, feeling like he was on cloud 9.

“So,” Eddie said once the show was over. “How’d I do?”

They were walking hand in hand down the street, swinging their arms between them like they were silly teenagers.

“I’d say you crushed it,” Steve replied. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” Eddie wondered.

“Well, you planned this one,” Steve pointed out. “So, I get the next one.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

They made it to Steve’s apartment. Eddie walked him to the door like a gentleman.

“Just you wait,” Steve teased. “Now that I know we’re pulling all the stops, get ready to have the best date of your life.”

Eddie gave Steve a quick peck on the lips and smiled.

“I don’t doubt it,” he responded.

He really didn’t.

(next part)

--------------------------------------

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#flowers and ink #steddie #steddie fic #st fanfic #writing #steve and eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #platonic stobin #gareth

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sunflowerandstrawberryspice · 1 year ago

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More Song the Ninjago Fandom is missing out on

Alright folks guess who's back with more songs for you AND a playlist with them!

I've been having fun with this and I love talking about why I associate certain songs with certain characters I love doing it and I really do wish I was able to do animatics myself. But any who here are more songs! (Song-artist)

AS ALWAYS MAJOR SPOILERS

Violet- Marianne Ross: This song is SOOOOO Lloyd thinking about Harumi (I will in fact ignore Crystalized existence again), like it's all about thinking about someone who hurt you deeply and still thinking of them even though they treated you poorly. Lyrics: "When I think of violet I think of you I see you tryin got make is cool" Harumi trying to justify herself to Lloyd. "My mind reminds me of a purple hue, matched the sight of another bruise" Do I have to say more? Like Lloyd clearly cared about Harumi and she emotionally and physically beat the shit outta him

Like a Villain- Bad Omens: This song could totally be used for Morro or Garmadon in my opinion, the song is about someone talking to a person who unknowingly or not pushed them past the edge of no return. Lyrics: "Look into my face then look again we're not the same we're different" For Garmadon this could be a representation of the Great Devourer taking over his mind and transforming him and for Morro this could his transformation from a starry eyes kid to a depressed and evil ghost. "You need a new clean slate with out the dents" This could be either of them addressing Wu cause lets be honest neither of them have an all to peachy relationship with him, Morro especially who saw Wu with this new set of Ninja who are happier than he ever was who Wu treated like family while pretending Morro never existed. "I know that you tried your hardest I know that you meant well but you pushed me to the edge and I slipped and then I fell" For Morro this could totally be Wu's intense training and the way he made Morro believe he'd be the green ninja only for that to be false which kinda drove him crazy, or it could be used for Garmadon on him and Wu's journey in Spinjitzu Brothers to find the tea to heal Garmadon while the journey was supposed to get something to heal Garmadon it ended up just making him feel worse about himself and his place in the world. There's a bunch more awesome lyrics but we'd be here all day if I explained all of them.

Fourth of July- Sufjan Stevens: This one is a teny tiny bit of a reach but hear me out. Zane and his father. So we know that Dr. Julien passes away sometime I believe before season three takes place and it's said he died of natural causes and I'm just saying this could make a pretty decent song since I feel like Zane and Dr. Julien's really sweet father son relationship gets over looked a bit probably since he died so early on and we didn't get to see Zane mourn much afterwards. Lyrics: "And I'm sorry I left but it was for the best" Could totally be used for when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch and everything. I don't have many particular phrases since the song is almost like a back and forth, but there are a lot of bird references which also works well for Zane.

Icarus-Luvbug: Now this could work for a couple different Ninjago parents since it's mostly about losing a child but I think it would work best with either the FSM feeling bad for what happened to Garmadon (if you want to make him less awful that is cause in cannon his feels about Garmadon are... slightly concerning like sir you're not supposed to hate your own child) Garmadon feeling bad about how Lloyd had to "kill" the child part of himself to lead the ninja, or Maya after Nya merged with the sea and how she wanted to badly to be there for her only for her to end up gone.

Little Lion Man- Mumford & sons: Misako and Lloyd, just trust me okay? Like it's all about someone blaming themselves how someone turned out and in a better world we would have gotten Misako canonically feeling awful for how Lloyd's childhood went due to the fact she decided to dump him gods know where (Darkly's is a boarding school and Lloyd doesn't remember his mother when he meets her so I'm assuming he was probably somewhere else before there?) but instead I'll settle for fan interpretation and I feel like this song would make a great Misako animatic. "But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line" and "Now learn from your mother or else spend you days biting your own neck" and "Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before"

Sorry the list is a little shorter this time but honestly sometimes I don't have full explanations for songs I just have like general vibes, like my excuse is literally just: trust, with little to no explanation. Like:

The Archer- Taylor Swift: Lloyd, Cole or Sora

Don't meet your idols- Everybody's worried about Owen: Jay (cause his bio father was his idol ig?) or Nya (I have no clue man)

Your sister was right- Wilbur Soot: Jay

Punching Bag- The Front Bottoms: Kai

Runs in the Family-Amanda Palmer: Lloyd, Garmadon, Wu, Cole, Sora and honestly just most of them tbh

Friends- Sonic Sea Turtles: Cole, Lloyd, Jay and Garmadon

Idk y'all my brain is actually just one big Lego brick.

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padfootagain · 2 years ago

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The Last Chance (III)

Chapter 3 : Loving

Here is the third and last part of my short series for Ben, that I’ve written based on a request for my Comeback Event! The trope requested was ‘wrong time to right time’.

Alright I am referring here to one of Ben’s cover and you can actually find it on youtube, I have checked (and it’s so pretty nzlnfinfeoii); and I’m also using his acoustic video for 11:11 (you know, the one with the piano and the pretty sunset…). Just so you know, you can listen to these on youtube, if you want to.

Also, did I cry at 1am writing this ending? Absolutely, get the tissues ready!

I hope you like this last part! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 And this time, it really is a fluffy ending! Also, mentions of Covid and quarantine.

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 7821

You check the news again, but it’s the same thing everywhere…

Your holidays might get way longer than you intended them to be.

“So, you’re sure you can’t come back?”

Your boss’s voice comes through your phone distorted and more high-pitched than it really is. She sounds worried more than annoyed.

“Yeah, all flights going out of the US are cancelled.”

“Damn… bloody virus… Do you want us to handle anything for you here? A pet? A plant? An annoying parent?”

“No, I’m all good, thank you,” you laugh. “My mom is taking care of my plants already. I’ll be fine. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can, I’m sure the embassy will come up with a plan in the coming weeks.”

“Okay, well… be careful while you’re there. Do you have somewhere to stay? You can’t stay at the hotel for too long.”

“I haven’t found out where I’m going to stay for now, but… I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

“Alright. Well… if you could take a few notes for a future article, it would be great. Like ‘our journalist’s experience of Covid from the US’. Or… ‘stuck with the virus in LA.’ Oh that one sounds good…”

You laugh at your boss, promising to keep her updated and to take notes for an article, and you heave a sigh.

You’re stuck here. The new restrictions for Covid mean that you can’t get a flight to London. Not for the next two more weeks, at least.

You have no idea what to do… For now, you can pay for the hotel room, but if this lasts for longer that these two weeks, then you’ll have to find another place to live.

What are you going to do?

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and Ben’s name appear on the screen. You can’t refrain a small smile.

You’ve been friends for years now, ever since he travelled back to LA from London that spring, when you met again in this bookshop. You can’t say that he’s your closest friend, but you keep in touch. You call each other at least once a month, and whenever he comes to see his family, you manage to spend some time together. Besides… he’s still your best friend, in a way. Sure, he’s not the one you talk to the most, but he’s undoubtedly the person you trust the most on this earth. You would be lying if you pretended that you didn’t come to LA for your three-weeks long vacation for him.

You accept the incoming call, a smile on your lips.

“Hi, Ben!”

“Hey! Huh… how are you?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Good… I was calling you because I saw on the news that all flights towards the UK are cancelled. Is your plane cancelled as well?”

“Yep! New restrictions for Covid, so… I’m stuck here for now.”

“Shit! I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve warned everyone at home, and my boss has decided that my little adventure in LA will make a great article. So, it could be worse, really.”

He chuckles.

“I’m not surprised about your boss, for a reason.”

“Me neither.”

“But… can’t they plan something for people living in the UK to go home?”

“For now, nothing. I’ve contacted the embassy: they’ve announced that it will take at least a couple of weeks to organize something to get us all home.”

“I see. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Well, so far, I can pay for the hotel. If it takes longer than two weeks, it might get tricky, but we’ll see…”

“Don’t be silly!” he interrupts you. “You’re not going to stay at a hotel and pay for a room when I live here.”

“That’s… what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks…”

“Yes, because you said you didn’t want to bother me, and these were your vacations, so I get it that you didn’t want to have me around 24/7,” he interrupts you again, and you can hear in his tone that he’s rolling his eyes. “But now it’s different. What if it takes longer than that? No, you should come over. I have a guest room, you’ll be comfortable, and you won’t empty your bank account because of this mess. Come on, say yes.”

You heave a sigh, but can’t find any argument against him.

“Alright, I’ll come over.”

“Good, I’ll be at your hotel in an hour, I’ll pick you up.”

“I can take the bus…”

“Y/N. Stop it.”

“But…”

“You’re so annoying, always refusing people’s help…”

He’s mumbling, and you can hear that he is annoyed, in a tender way. It makes you smile fondly.

“Alright, I’ll wait for my chauffeur, then.”

“Perfect, see you.”

Ben ends the call and puts down his phone on his piano. You’re coming over…

You’re… you’re staying, actually.

He grabs a paper and a pen and starts a list.

Groceries

Vacuum

Bed

Dinner

Did he forget something? He doesn’t think so.

He’s got to clean up the apartment (that is already spotless), change the sheets of your bed (which are already perfectly clean), he needs to go buy some groceries (even though his fridge is full, but he doesn’t have any of the biscuits you like, and if you’re staying for a while, you’ll probably need some tampons or pads, and he’s seen in your apartment the brand you usually use, so he knows what to get for you), and he needs to buy dinner before picking you up (he tries to think of something fancy but he reckons a pizza will be perfect).

He frowns when his phone buzzes on his piano, and picks it up again to check the text he’s just received.

Monica.

He ignores the message, and crosses his apartment to change the sheets of your bed.

He broke up with her three weeks before, but he doesn’t blame her for being a little clingy, for trying to get him back. But there’s no use.

Three weeks before, that was when you knocked on his front door as a surprise, with a pack of beers and a pizza and his favourite jaffa cakes. That was when you spent the evening laughing, and rambling about your lives, until you both fell asleep while watching some crappy TV. That was when he woke up with you in his arms, cuddled up into his side. That was when he spent over half an hour just… staring at you. Studying your features. Trying to remember every detail about you.

And it was ridiculous because your lives were different, ridiculously so. Still, he wanted to kiss you that morning. He wanted to hold you tight, and to never let go again.

How could he be with Monica after that?

He heaves a sigh at the thought. He shouldn’t be feeling like that. The two of you are friends, and it’s better this way. Still… he’s nervous at the thought of you coming here and staying over.

He heaves another sigh as he throws the sheets in the washing machine. He’s being ridiculous. Absolutely, completely, irrevocably ridiculous.

Still, he double-checks that he’s put an extra blanket on your bed, because he knows how cold you get in the first hours of the morning.

Maybe you’re a little drunk. Maybe… maybe you’re very drunk at this point.

You don’t mind though, Ben has seen you in a worse shape than this. He’s seen you with a stomach flu, he’s seen you drunk enough to throw up for hours, he’s held your hair while you were sick, he’s kissed your burning forehead when you had fever, he’s helped you undress and shower when you were too weak to stand…

You’re not worried about misbehaving, about being silly. Not with him. And especially not now, when he’s slowly moving beyond the state of tipsiness. He’s particularly goofy tonight, being his usual hilarious self, and you love it. Every second of it. His ridiculous funny faces and his weird voices and his stupid jokes. You love everything about it. Your sides are painful after so much laughing, and you can’t remember the last time you were this merry.

It feels good. It feels peaceful and safe. He makes you forget about the pandemic, about you being stuck here instead of being with your family in London; he makes you forget about how worried you are about your parents, and your friends; he makes you forget about your job, about your boss and her stupid article.

As you look at him standing up to get more crisps, you can’t help but let your gaze travel across his frame. You just can’t. He’s too handsome for that, and you are too drunk.

Your gaze travels across his living room as you wait for him, and lingers on his piano. You’re happy he’s finally been learning how to play. You know he’s always wanted to. You’re happy for him. You’re happy about his career, about this life he has built for himself; a life that clearly suits him.

You don’t wait for him to sit down by your side again to speak to him, and you ask the question that’s on the tip of your tongue as soon as you hear him turning off the light of the kitchen.

“Can you play something for me?”

He raises up an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly before putting down the plate of crisps on the coffee table.

“Play? Play what?”

“The piano, of course.”

“Yeah, I got that, thank you,” he rolls his eyes. “I mean… why do you want me to play all of a sudden?”

“Because… I’ve seen you play the drums, I’ve watched you sing, you’ve played the guitar for me too… but never the piano.”

He chuckles, looking at you as if you’re a little mad, but he ends up shrugging anyway.

“If you want to, sure.”

“YES!”

You jump to your feet, almost falling in your inebriated state, and you rush to sit before the piano, scooting over to leave enough space for Ben to sit by your side.

He explodes with laughter at your silly behaviour.

“What can you play?” you ask him, being serious again.

Your words are a little slurred because of the red wine you’ve been drinking during the evening. He finds it charming.

He thinks about what he could play for a moment.

“I’ve been learning some Bowie…”

He’s interrupted by your gasp.

“Oh dear… can you play Space Oddity? I remember… you used to sing this song to me all the time when we were in College. I loved it.”

“You did?”

“Of course! Your voice is beautiful!”

He chuckles, blushing fiercely.

“Alright, I can give it a try. But don’t laugh at my musical skills! I’m still learning the piano.”

“I know nothing about music, I am not the one who is going to criticize you in any way.”

He gives you a tender smile as he takes a seat by your side.

You are so close like this, shoulder against shoulder. His heart is skipping beats, and jumping every time you move against him.

“Alright… give me a second.”

He plays a few notes to get ready, before clearing his throat. He’s blushing hard, and it’s adorable. You rest your head on his shoulder as he starts playing the song.

You close your eyes when he starts singing, his voice deep and soft and warm…

You hope he doesn’t notice too much the way you reach to hold on the aim of his black t-shirt, but you need something to hold onto. It’s a little too overwhelming for you to handle on your own.

You smile, listening closely. And it’s perfect. It always is with him…

When his voice finally dies out in a soft humming, you don’t want it to be over. The last note of the piano wanes, shushed down as it spreads through the room, bumps into the furniture and the walls. You breathe deeply his scent, something of wood and spices, and you love it. It’s warm and welcoming, just like him.

You’re surprised when he leans down to drop a kiss on your head, but you don’t complain. You smile instead.

“So… how bad was it?” he jokes.

“It was beautiful, as usual.”

He chuckles, and you tighten your hold on his t-shirt while a happy smile spreads across your lips.

“Not too disappointed by your private performance? You know these don’t come cheap, right?”

“Hmm… well, I’m sure I’ll repay that debt, one day.”

He kisses your hair again, and you snuggle closer to him, until he reaches out to wrap his arm around you, pulling you to him.

He’s got butterflies in his stomach like he hasn’t felt for years. His heart is pounding and yet he feels at peace like this, holding you close, his lips against your hair, breathing in deeply the smell of cherries from your shampoo.

He hasn’t felt this way in years. In fact… he reckons he hasn’t felt this way since London…

“Why do you not work more on your music?”

You look up at him with a questioning look, but he shrugs.

“I do. I’ve learnt the piano.”

“Yes, but… you’ve always wanted to write songs, to play your own music… why do you not do it? It’s not as if you lacked the talent for it.”

“I don’t think I’m that good,” he chuckles, but you’re having none of it.

“Now, that’s bullshit. And you know it. You’re just scared, don’t hide behind excuses.”

You’ve always been more direct than usual when you’re drunk. He likes it. He needs to hear things like that, every now and then.

“I don’t know, I just… I love acting. I don’t want music to be my main career. But… you’re right, I want to give it more space in my life.”

“Then, give it more space. I mean… we’re stuck here. You can’t work anyway, so… might as well use your free time to do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

His smile grows fonder.

“I love how blunt you are when you’re drunk. It’s annoying. You’re always right.”

“I’m always right when I’m sober too!”

He laughs at you, running a hand through your hair.

“And what should I do then? About music?”

You shrug.

“Write songs.”

“I’ve always done that.”

“Snippets, yes, but… I don’t know. Just… compose. Make your own music.”

“What should I write about?”

“About… whatever you want to express, but can’t say in any other way. Isn’t that what art is supposed to be about? Telling stories and sharing feelings that you can’t just… say out loud? You need the artifice of music, of poetry, of fantasy worlds, of colours… or you can’t let it out at all.”

You give him a smile, as if you had just told him something random about the weather, instead of something that echoes within his soul more than you can ever imagine…

“I really love this stupid freckle under your eye,” you blurt out, your voice almost a whisper.

“Really?” he asks with a teasing smile.

“Hmm… it’s lovely. You’re lovely…”

You heave a sigh.

“My head is spinning a bit.”

“You should go to bed.”

“In a minute…”

He looks at you as your eyes close again, as you settle more comfortably in his arms.

You’re beautiful. You always are but… the thought settles in his mind in a painful way now.

It kills him, really. It kills him the way he still wants you…

“Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you okay? Do you want me to help you go to bed?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure, darling?”

He feels that you’re tensing against him, but you don’t move away. He bites his tongue.

What an idiot… everything was going so well… he had to open his big mouth…

“You can’t call me that anymore,” you tell him, but your voice is not angry, nor annoyed. You’re just presenting a fact.

“I know, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not your darling anymore.”

He hates it, the way your words hurt him. They’re so painful… even if they’re true. Maybe because they are true, actually…

“I know. I’m sorry, don’t be mad…”

“I’m not mad. But… you can’t call me that anymore. You should call your girlfriend that, Monica.”

“We broke up, remember?”

“I know. Did you call her that too?”

But he shakes his head. He’s a little drunk, it’s the only reason why these words are passing the barrier of his lips. He’s blushing profusely, but you can’t see it, your eyes are still closed.

It’s quiet in the apartment, it’s late already. No one outside, no car, nothing. It’s silent, until Ben speaks again.

“No, I didn’t call her that.”

“Why? How did you call her?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t feel like calling her that, that’s all.”

“But it’s your favourite pet name.”

“I know. That’s why it’s still yours.”

You open your eyes, but don’t look at him. You’re a little too scared for that.

“If things were different… if we didn’t live so far apart… do you think we could…”

“I don’t know, Ben,” you interrupt him.

It’s too painful to think about this…

He nods.

“Sometimes… sometimes I really wish things were different between us,” he admits in a shaky whisper. “I wish… stars would finally align for us or something.”

“Me too.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, and he closes his eyes, head thrown back to withhold his tears.

“But?”

“But… our lives are too different. And we can’t let ourselves act the way we did in London, not anymore. We’re friends now, we can’t be anything more than that.”

“Why must our lives never match?” he asks in a whisper. “Why do we keep on drifting apart?”

You look up at him, and he finally meets your eyes once more.

“It’s like your music, Ben. We’re prioritizing stuff. We’re not making enough room for us. It wouldn’t work, not right now…”

“I would make room for you.”

You know he means it, but you shake your head.

“It wouldn’t work. I can’t come to live here.”

“Who said anything about that?”

“You’re not going to move back to London, are you?”

“Things have changed in fourteen years. We have zoom now, and facetime, and we don’t have to pay a fortune for a phone call in a foreign country anymore…”

“Ben… stop it.”

He grows silent again, and you hate how sad he looks.

“There’s no use. We’ve moved on. That’s why we didn’t talk to each other for ten years, so we could get over each other. You have your life, and I have mine, and we’re friends, and that’s enough.”

He nods, forcing a smile to his lips. He is good at hiding how his heart is breaking.

Because you’ve moved on, that’s what you’re saying. You’ve fallen out of love... And he hasn’t.

Now more than ever, it strikes him how much he still loves you. How, if he truly faces his feelings, he has never stopped loving you. Even after your breakup. Even during these ten years you spent as strangers. Even when he loved other women. You were still there, somewhere, in his heart.

But you’ve moved on, and he hasn’t. And it’s breaking his heart, but it’s okay. He’ll manage. He’s been managing for fourteen years.

You look at the clock, rubbing your eyes to chase away your fatigue. You smile.

“11:11! We should make a wish!”

“A wish?”

“Yeah! You’ve never done that? If you look at the clock randomly, and it’s 11:11, you must make a wish.”

He chuckles.

“That’s funny.”

“Alright, close your eyes, make a wish!”

He looks at you as you close your eyes, and he chuckles again before doing the same.

And his wish is for you…

He can hardly wait as he looks for you in the crowd. The airport is busy, full of tourists, families reuniting, friends parting. He’s got a black cap on to avoid being recognized in such a dense crowd. He goes on his tiptoes to try and spot you as travellers flood the hall, pulling their suitcases behind them or pushing their trolley. His heart is beating so fast, he’s excited to see you…

Since the pandemic, you’ve grown much closer as friends. Instead of calling each other every month, you started calling each other once a week, and then every day. Maybe it was because you had lived together for several weeks, it was strange to be completely apart for too long after that.

He isn’t complaining though. He loves it, actually, being close to you again.

He knows it’s not romantic, by any mean. He hasn’t forgotten your words from that night. You’ve moved on. You don’t feel like this anymore, but he does. He hates to admit it, but he does have feelings for you that go well beyond friendship. It’s alright though, he’s not complaining. You’re here, it’s all that matters.

He spots you easily, he always does. No matter if you’re in an empty room or in a crowd, he always finds you easily, as if his eyes are trained to recognize your silhouette. It’s almost a sixth sense.

He grins as you spot him too and wave at him. You look gorgeous, as always.

You rush through the crowd and into his arms, making him laugh as he holds you tightly against him.

“It’s so good to see you!” you squeal in excitement.

“I’m happy to see you too. I’ve missed you.”

You finally walk out of his embrace, locking your elbow with his as you head towards the exit, you pulling your suitcase and Ben carrying your heavy bag. You haven’t walked out of the airport that you’re already chatting merrily, catching up on lost time.

It’s easy. To be around you, to look at you laughing. It’s easy to talk to you, to make you giggle in an adorable way, to get lost in your eyes.

He recognizes the feelings easily, he felt the same sixteen years ago…

“So, what have you planned for my vacations, mister?” you ask, a bright grin glued on your face as you climb in his car and fasten your seatbelt.

“Well, first we’re going to my place to drop all your stuff, as you’ve decided to bring your entire apartment with you,” he playfully answers, teasing you and making you roll your eyes and scoff. “And then… I thought that we could either relax at my place, watch a movie or just talk for a while; or we can go to the beach.”

“I have to admit that after that long flight, relaxing on your very comfortable couch sounds wonderful.”

“A relaxed afternoon it is, then. But tell me everything! You came here for work, what is it all about?”

You smile, but don’t dare answer yet. You don’t want to tell him until you’re certain about this, that it’s all going to work out. You still have an interview scheduled next week. It will define whether or not you get a job here, in LA.

It would mean moving to the US, in this busy town…

…next to him.

But you’re not sure yet. First, you need to nail this interview of yours. Then, you need to talk about it with him. Because you don’t think he feels like that anymore. You do though. It has never really stopped. Despite your boyfriends, despite the distance, despite the years spent completely apart not even on speaking terms… you still feel this way. The same way you felt sixteen years ago.

As you watch him drive through the large roads of LA, with his dark sunglasses, and the happy crinkles at the corners of his eyes showing more than usual because of the way he’s smiling… you wish the two of you could give it a try.

You set your gaze on the cars before you again while Ben starts asking you questions about your flight, your family, your job. You’ll see how all this turns out. For now, you’re here, and that’s enough.

Ben’s been on the phone for a while, and you’re getting worried. You hope it’s nothing too serious, and nothing that will require from him to fly away.

He’ll be busy tonight shooting a music video for his first EP. You’re so proud of him for finally releasing his own songs into the world, and you can’t wait for the album to be released. You wonder if this phone call is linked to this project of his.

You’re a little frustrated with it though, because so far, Ben has always refused to let you listen to any of the songs he’s written for the album. You don’t understand why. You’ve never been anything but supportive of this project, so why hide? Does he not trust you enough?

You give him a smile as you see him entering again the coffee shop where you’ve been drinking some tea and eating a delicious cheesecake. But your smile disappears when you read worry, almost panic even, written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him as he sits down at your table once more.

He heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I was supposed to film a video tonight, you remember?”

“Of course, for your song.”

“Well, my cameraman… and the whole team, actually… are stuck somewhere in Ohio, and they won’t have time to come here before their next job on a movie. I don’t know how I’m going to film this…”

He runs a hand through his hair, and you reach across the table to hold his fingers in yours in a supportive gesture.

“Don’t you know anyone who could replace them here, in LA?” you ask him, trying to sound optimistic.

“No… No one who’s available, at least. Or not before a couple of months… I mean, if there isn’t any other solution, then I’ll have to wait. But I wanted to get all this filming done before I have to start working on another movie.”

He heaves another sigh, his gaze drifting away to settle on the busy street that hurries forward on the other side of the window.

“This was the acoustic version of the song, right? Like… not the big production one…” you ask him, thinking hard.

“Yeah, it’s just… we just need to get the piano up a hill, and then I perform the song on the piano and the video should be done in only one shot.”

“Do you know already what you want it to look like and where you want to do it?”

“Yes, of course, everything is planned.”

“Then… why can’t we do it?”

He frowns at you.

“What?”

“You and me! I’m not a professional, but didn’t you say that you wanted something personal for these acoustic videos? I can film you while you’re singing.”

“No. I mean… that’s very kind Y/N, but… that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? I’m not stupid, if you show me how to use your camera, I can do it.”

“I’m not doubting your skills nor your intelligence. I just… look, it’s silly, I’ll just wait until I have another opportunity, that’s all.”

But he can see that you’re annoyed now. He doesn’t really get why though. He’s the one with a problem, not you.

“Never mind all that. What were we talking about again?”

But you lean forward, your forearms resting on the table, and by the look on your face, Ben already knows he’s not going to like the question you’re about to ask.

“Ben… can I ask you something? And I would really appreciate it if you gave me an earnest answer.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Do you think us shooting this video together is a bad idea because you want a professional to do it, or because you don’t want me to listen to your songs?”

You see him clenching his jaw as he looks down at his cup of tea, and you don’t need to hear his answer.

“Why do you not want me to listen to your songs? I’m sure they’re amazing.”

But he shakes his head.

“I’m not ready for you to listen to them.”

“Why not? It’s just me…”

“I know, but… They’re… very personal and I… I don’t want you to listen to them for now. I’m not ready.”

You nod your head, clearly disappointed, but he’s grateful that you don’t insist.

“I’m sorry, but I have a few phone calls to make. Do you mind if we leave?” he asks after a rather long silence; one that is not as comfortable as it usually feels whenever it settles between the two of you.

“No, of course not. Let’s go.”

He apologizes again for hurrying home, and you don’t have the heart to insist on paying your share when he wants to invite you. He feels bad enough already, you reckon.

The drive to his flat is quiet, you can practically hear Ben’s brain working at full speed as he looks for a solution. When you arrive, you leave him alone and settle in the guest room with a book. He’s got work to do, it’s alright. You hesitate for a moment to go outside for a walk on your own, but you reckon that he might feel terrible if no one can help him, and he might need you here. So, instead, you stay inside and wait.

It's already the middle of the afternoon when Ben knocks on your door, and you invite him in.

“So? Did you find anyone to help?”

He shakes his head and sits down on the edge of your bed. You put away your book and sit up, cross-legged, next to him. He seems so disappointed, it breaks your hurt.

You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So… what are you going to do?”

“Well… no one is available before at least three months, and I’ll be working again in three months, which means that everything will be way more complicated. I don’t know… I just want to get all this over with while I have time to do this properly, without thinking about a role.”

“Of course, I get that.”

“So… I reckon I don’t really have a choice.”

He turns to you, and his voice is surprisingly shy when he speaks again.

“Do you mind if we do this together, then?”

You offer him a bright smile.

“Of course not! I would be happy to help. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He wants to tell you then, why he hasn’t let you listen to his album yet. He wants to tell you everything, what his songs are truly about but… he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Maybe… maybe you won’t even notice if you listen to the song. There aren’t that many details… maybe you won’t understand…

So, he says nothing, merely gives you a smile, and opens his arms to give you hug.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re the best.”

You grin, rushing into his embrace; and as he closes his arms upon you, he holds you a little too tight.

You’re tired after carrying all this equipment all the way up this hill, but you regret nothing. The spot Ben has chosen for this video is breathtaking. You admire it while he finishes to set everything up behind you.

The sun has started to set, sinking behind the hill on the other side of the valley. LA stretches at your feet while the sky begins to be painted in gold. It’s quiet, surprisingly so. No cars, no voices, no shouts. Just the wind and the random interruption of a bird chirping.

“This place is amazing, Ben,” you grin, your eyes still lost on the beautiful view.

You hear him chuckling behind you.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favourite spots. It’s quiet up here. And the view isn’t too bad.”

Eventually, you shake yourself out of your reverie, and turn towards Ben again.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

He explains to you the shots he wants, where you should walk to get them. He shows you how to use his very expensive camera, and after a few tries, you know enough to shoot the short video. You help Ben setting up his computer and his microphone, using a pile of your own books so the microphone is positioned right before Ben’s lips. He tries a few times to record his voice, then the piano, and seems quickly satisfied.

He's nervous, you can tell.

“I reckon we can get several takes before it’s too dark to film. What do you think?” you ask him, trying to reassure him.

He nods, giving you a warm smile.

“Yeah… I’d say we have about forty minutes.”

“So, you can fuck up ten times at least before we give up for tonight. You’ll be just fine.”

He laughs at that, and he’s grateful for it. He knows you’re trying to help him calm down. You’re simply not aware that he’s not stressed about the sun setting too fast at all, or about messing up the song. He’s worried about the fact that you’re going to listen to him…

You get ready, and give him a thumbs up as well as a bright grin.

“Whenever you’re ready, superstar!”

He chuckles at your teasing, shakes his head a little. He takes a couple of deep breaths, plays a few notes to get ready. But then, he starts recording, and playing…

He doesn’t look at you as his fingers travel across the piano, as he starts to sing in a quiet, gentle tone. Voice deep and warm and reassuring, as always. He tries to ignore your presence, to forget that you’re standing there, a few feet away, that you’re listening to him sing this song about… about you…

But he can’t. How could he? How could he act as if the woman he wrote this song about is not standing right in front of him, listening to the deepest secrets of his heart?

But then again, maybe it’s for the better. Because now more than ever, after spending a whole week living with you, it hurts too much to be merely your friend. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He reckons that there wasn’t a minute in the nineteen years you’ve known each other when he wanted to be anything but your boyfriend.

But then again, life works almost haphazardly sometimes, and if he believed in signs, then perhaps he could have believed that you, being there to listen to his song now, was a sign. A sign that things have to change, and he hopes they will change for the better…

His voice is shakier than he wants it to be. He can hear, after the second line, that he’s going to struggle to go through the whole song without being too emotional. He’s not even certain he’ll be able to sing the complete song. But he doesn’t care. Now, that he has started to confess it all, he needs to let it all out.

Meanwhile, you start moving with the camera, and at first, you’re focused on your task, trying not to shake too much. But then… you’re also listening to the song. And if a smile appears on your features at the beginning, it quickly fades. Your movements slow down as Ben sings the first verse…

Because… because it sounds very strange… The story he tells, it’s strangely familiar.

Is it late?

Eleven minutes past eleven

It’s both always and never our time

Nothing to regret

The rest just might be heaven

You’re always but never really mine

You’re the one who told him about this silly wish to make at 11:11. And your paths keep on crossing but you’re never really together and…

But no, no… it’s just your head and your silly heart imagining things. No, it’s nothing like that. He must be talking about somebody else, or maybe he’s not even talking about anyone at all. Maybe he just made up a love song from nothing.

But then… why does he seem so upset as he keeps on singing, his voice trembling through the chorus, his eyes still closed.

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

I wish for you to be happy

I wish for you to be free

I wish for you to be fearless

That’s wishes one, two and three

But then, if this is not about you then… why these echoes to your past? You recognize the words he spoke to you so long ago; it’s easy for you, they are engraved into your brain at this point. How could you ever forget them? He’s putting them elegantly, into verses, but these are the same words he told you that rainy afternoon in your dorm, and in London too…

You’ve stopped moving altogether, and you stare at him now, forgetting all about your duties with this stupid camera…

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

He feels your stare upon him, and he knows that you’re standing still now, frozen. He can see you, even with his eyes down. He has lifted his eyelids, he looks at his hands, or at least he tries to, because he wants so badly to look at you… But he resists. If he does, he won’t be able to sing the end of the song, and he knows it.

Is it warm?

Clouds but the sun’s in the sky

Rises over mine but sets with you

When it’s dark I’ll try not to ask you why

Or what you’ll do

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

I wish for you to be happy

I wish for you to be free

I wish for you to be fearless

That’s wishes one, two and three

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

He can’t take it, the way you stare at him. At last, he looks up. And his hands freeze on the keyboard, right in between two notes, and his voice disappears from his tightening throat.

You’re staring so intensely at him…

You know. You’ve understood everything. It’s too late now…

… damn, he’s fucked up again.

But slowly, very slowly… you start shaking your head.

“Don’t stop,” you let out a shaky breath, he barely hears you at all. “Please, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, finish the song. Please, Ben…”

He nods, struggling to swallow back the lump in his throat. He takes a deep breath, plays again the last notes of the chorus to get some momentum, and he resumes his singing, his voice a little hoarse as he tries not to cry.

If one day the stars align

You feel ready to be mine

I hope you’ll find the strength to come

With trumpet, pipes and drum

You stopped my heart from fifty feet

It pumped and sang and skipped a beat

And when I sleep my soul you’ll keep

He can’t look away anymore. He just can’t. He struggles a little to play when he’s so emotional, and staring at you, and busy being terrified of what your reaction will be once he has stopped singing… But it’s alright. His voice is rough with emotion, a little shaky, but you don’t seem to mind. You just stare at him, with more and more tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let any teardrop fall. Instead, you’re suspended to his words.

And his voice finishes to break with the next two verses…

And I won’t wish to be yours

Or for you to be mine

He gives you a smile, filled with tenderness and sadness and withheld pain. It takes him a couple of seconds to be able to let out any sound, but you’re patient, and you wait for him to finish his song.

But I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Yes, I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Oh, I’ll wish them all for you

Every time

Silence. After his piano and his voice filling up the air, it feels strange to hear nothing at all. Solely distant sounds of wind and birds.

And you don’t say a thing. Instead, you put the camera down right next to the piano, and you walk around the instrument to sit next to Ben. He doesn’t look at you anymore, he doesn’t move. He can barely breathe at all. He’s terrified that if he does so, you’ll run away and disappear for good.

So, he tries to remain motionless instead. Maybe then, even time could stop…

“Your song… it’s about us, isn’t it?” you ask him, your voice a little hoarse but surprisingly steady considering how your heart is pounding, how much your throat has tightened, how hard it is to withhold your tears… “It’s about me, right?”

He doesn’t have the strength to speak, so he nods instead. He looks almost guilty.

“I see… That’s why you didn’t want me to listen to it.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Ben nods anyway.

He clears his throat, tries to find his voice back.

“You… are you mad at me?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Because… I wrote a song about you and… because… because it says pretty clearly how I feel about you. And I’m not sure you like the way I feel about you.”

Finally, he turns to you. His eyes are completely black, his face bathed in golden light. The small pendant that falls on his chest catches some sunlight as he moves and it flashes like gold in the summer sun.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“Everything, really. But especially because… Now, I don’t reckon we’ll be able to remain friends.”

“No… no, I guess you’re right. We can’t stay friends.”

He nods, and even if he quickly brushes it away, you see the tear that starts rolling down his cheek. He sniffs, looking away again.

“Right…”

“I’m moving to LA.”

He stares at you again, his lips parting in shock. You just… you’ve just blurted that out, out of the blue and… What…?

“What?”

“I… I had an interview yesterday for a job in a small newspaper in California. For a very small town, about half an hour away from LA. I got the job. I got the answer this morning and… I knew you were stressed because of this music video, so I wanted to wait this weekend to tell you. But I… I’m moving to LA. I start next month.”

“But… what about London? What about your job there, and your family, and your friends, you… you were happy there… I thought it was what you wanted.”

“It was. For a long time, it really was. But then again… do you remember the conversation we had that night, when I was drunk? I mean… of course you do, you talk about it in your song… Anyway, that night, I told you we had to prioritize things that are the most important to us. And I’m tired of not prioritizing you. So…”

“This is more than prioritizing though…”

“No, it isn’t. When we were younger, I chose my career instead of you. And I can’t say that I regret it because I had no idea about who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. And I needed to go to Dublin, and to move to London again… I needed that. But I’m not twenty-three anymore. And I’ve figured things out. And you’re not twenty-four anymore with too many dreams and a career to build, you already have one now. So… maybe… maybe we could force our lives not to drift apart this time. What do you say?”

But instead of answering, he merely crashes his lips to yours, hands flying up to hold your face, and you melt against him as he kisses you with all the love and passion he’s been holding back for years. You hold him tight when you finally detach your lips from his.

“I love you,” he breathes against your ear. “I’ve always loved you. Even when we were apart, even during this decade when I had no news… I never got over you. It was always you. Ever since that afternoon at the cinema watching my favourite rom-com when you let me kiss you in the dark… it has always been you.”

You can’t stop your tears anymore, but it’s okay. They’re happy ones.

“I love you too,” you whisper against the skin of his neck. “I’ve never stopped loving you either.”

“I’ll make it work. I promise, I’ll make it work.”

“Well, don’t expect me to do all the work!” you joke despite your voice being wet with tears. “I expect daily videocalls whenever you’re away. And an awful lot of cuddles when you come back. And you’ll pay for my tickets so I can come see you, because journalist really doesn’t pay that well when you work for small, unknown newspapers…”

He laughs, tightening his hold on you, if it is even possible to do so.

“Deal. That’s a deal.”

“I don’t want to hide this…”

“You’ll hate it if you’re pulled in the public eye with me.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t wait sixteen bloody years to be your secret lover. Fuck off!”

You both laugh, and he nods his head.

“Alright, whatever you want. As long as you can be mine, we’ll do whatever you want.”

“I thought you wouldn’t wish to be mine or for me to be yours…” you tease, making him chuckle.

“Well… that was before I knew you were still madly in love with me.”

“Madly? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You’re moving to the other side of the world to be with me, I reckon that’s something only someone madly in love would do.”

“You might have a point.”

“I won’t let you go this time. I promise. I won’t lose you again, darling.”

You pull away just enough to look at him.

“Good. Cause I don’t want to leave ever again, love.”

You exchange a grin, before exchanging kisses…

And when you finally stand up and pack your things, the sun is long gone, and it’s almost fully night already. You’ll have to come back tomorrow to film this music video of his, but you don’t care.

You’ve got the rest of your lives left, after all…

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes series #ben barnes fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #series

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catcas22 · 1 year ago

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heya, I’m a big fan of your prince of death story! I’ve made a few comments under the guest name “Myself” (probably more memorable as the guy who never shuts the fuck up about wholesome Vyke and Lansseax content, sorry about that), But then I remembered I had a Tumblr I had only used once before! If it’s okay, I have a few questions about Vyke and Lansseax’s relationship, and their history:

You’ve already explained to me in a comment reply how they met, but how did they become a couple, and who initiated it? (I’d personally imagine Lansseax, Vyke doesn’t seem like he’d be the forward type. I also imagine Lansseax made a big show of it to embarrass Vyke)

2. when all hell isn’t breaking loose, how do they normally spend time together? Or is Vyke the “brooding silent type who is begrudgingly hugged by his much taller girlfriend in public”

3. does Lansseax ever force Vyke to go flying with her? I’d imagine that would be terrifying weather or not he’s afraid of heights (although *I* am afraid of heights, so that may be a bit of a projection)

4. (Based on a funny mental image I had at one point) Being a dragon, was Lansseax ever confused about alcohol, so Vyke, humoring her, decided to take her to a bar, but then he had to deal with an absolutely trashed dragon for the next few hours?

5. despite Vyke having the personality of a homeless cat, his wife and best friend are social butterflies. Do either of them ever drag Vyke to social outings and he ends up being the guy just awkwardly standing there doing nothing?

6. Not really about Vyke and Lansseax per se, but it is by extension I guess: what’s Vykes dynamic with Fortisax? I imagine they would at they very least be friends, because in his boss fight Vyke uses Fortisax’s Lightning spear but not Lanssex’s glaive

7. how does the rest of the dragon cult view their relationship? Do people just think “lucky bastard” about Vyke, do some people think that while others think Vyke is just trying to gain favor in the cult?

8. how would Lansseax react to someone hitting on Vyke? Would she be upset or just find it funny?

9. has Vyke ever asked “would you still love me if I was a Wyrm”, )referring to the magma worm) as a joke? I definitely would, bad puns are the best type of humor

Absolutely love Prince of Death, it’s right up there with Incidence (a Deltarune story by Jungle Dragon) with being my favorite. Thank you for your time and sorry to bother you with more questions about Vyke and Lansseax XD

Hi, thanks for the ask!

Lansseax: Vyke, what was it your people call that thing you do? With the rings? Vyke: ... What? Lansseax: You know, the mammal pair-bonding ritual. Vyke: You mean marriage? Lansseax: Yes, that. Lansseax: Do you want to get married? Vyke's brain: sdfghjkjbvvvjd;ss Vyke: Sure.

In all seriousness, Vyke is a very blunt and practical guy, and Lansseax is pretty direct in going after what she wants. Once they started making a point to spend time together and realized that they wanted to continue doing so, neither of them saw any reason not to make things official.

Vyke generally doesn't get involved with Lansseax's social life. But she's constantly trying out new hobbies, and he likes hanging around and asking the occasional question while she's working on her current project. They've settled into a comfortable compromise where Lansseax doesn't try to make Vyke pretend to be social, and he finds other ways to spend quality time with her.

In this continuity, Lansseax cannot change forms at will. When she turned human, that was permanent. If she somehow turned back into a dragon, that would be permanent. Her Crucible wings allow for something closer to old-school Superman's "leap tall buildings in a single bound" than to true flight. I suppose Vyke could theoretically hold onto her while she goes springing across the rooftops, but the danger of getting dropped would be very real, and Vyke's dignity wouldn't allow for it anyway.

Lansseax actually has a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, being nearly seven feet tall. She was the one carrying Vyke home after their first time at a bar together -- he quickly learned not to try to keep up with her drinking.

Vyke is obligated to go to the occasional Cult celebration, but he never stays too long. Godwyn and Lansseax have both learned that he'll just stand in a corner if he's forced into social events -- if one wants quality time with Vyke, it's best done one-on-one.

Out of all their sister's knights, Fortissax tolerated Vyke the most. Unlike Lansseax, Forti was there for Godwyn, and didn't care for humans as a rule. But Vyke is a very dragonish human, and he's not flakey and talkative like most humans, and he didn't try to force a friendship with Fortissax (the worst possible thing one could do). They eventually warmed up to him a bit, to the point where they could sit quietly and brood together, or have the odd sparring match.

Vyke and Lansseax are an institution. Their relationship predates the Dragon Cult, and Vyke was technically the first member. The other knights see Lansseax more as a mother figure (or more rarely, an object of courtly love), and Vyke as something between a godfather and an older brother.

You know, I never considered Vyke having other suitors. But following the second war against the dragons, he would have been considered quite the catch -- the slayer of Gransax, and a close friend of Crown Prince Godwyn. He probably had a small horde of suitors chasing after him for a bit. Lansseax would have bristled at first. But Vyke is like a solitary bird of prey that mates for life and would probably just curl up and die if something ever happened to his One Person. Half the time he wouldn't even notice if someone else was flirting with him, and when he finally picked up on it he'd just be mildly bemused. Nowadays Lansseax would just find it funny.

#elden ring #answered asks #vyke the dragonspear #ancient dragon lansseax #vyke x lansseax

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windandwater · 1 year ago

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I know various people have talked about how insular people around here are but like. we need to actually incorporate this fact into our behavior, and change it. and what I mean by this is. people who aren't online all the time have an extremely different perspective on almost everything we take for granted here.

like. my parents watched Sherlock. they enjoyed it a lot and my mom still makes jokes related to it without any irony or self-loathing. to them it was just. a fun detective show, a modern take on an old story. watch once and move on with life. she and my dad didn't spend several years knee-deep in navel-gazing meta that ruined it for everyone so now they can't talk about it without feeling like everyone's going to judge them for ever liking it in the first place.

partially this is a function of a lot of people here being teens & kids when it came out, but we (my parents & me) were adults. I was having a good time in fandom and look back on the 2010s pretty fondly while a lot of people here are still going through the process of hating their past selves, and you tend to project that onto the things you used to like. I did that too. and then I came around to forgiving & loving my past selves--all of them--which is why I have no problem admitting to all the things I loved in the early 90s & early 2000s but would have had a hard time admitting to 15 years ago.

but it's not just that. the weird refusal to pretend certain things never happened--Harry Potter. a smaller example, Firefly. etcetera. people think if you even mention HP at all you're automatically terf? like...if you go into the outside world, I'm sorry, but JKR's shit beliefs are not common knowledge. and like it or not that book kinda changed the world. and not all for the worse.

(I will NOT go off here on why Joss Whedon seems to get a pass for Buffy & Avengers but someone mentioned a bad thing about Firefly and now we can't talk about it at all--not to mention that it's apparently still okay for him to actively profit off of his work--but. that's off topic.)

(for the record my views are thus: neither of these creators should get any more money or attention as creators, but we shouldn't pretend that the stuff they made had zero effect on us as a culture or as individuals.)

this isn't really about any of these pieces of media specifically, it's more like. this weird insular culture that believes certain things are common knowledge and therefore if you ever talk about them except for in the Approved ways, You're Bad. it's not healthy here and it's not healthy if you ever plan to have a conversation with any living human.

I'm tired of like. if you post a gif of the wrong show you're cringe. if you reference a the wrong book you hate queer people. if you quote the wrong show you're racist. no matter what the actual gif or quote or reference is. it's not like that outside the internet and on the internet it feels like walking on very stupid eggshells.

I know how we got here but it's dumb. the past happened. it wasn't always perfect but we were still part of it. if we erase it we'll never learn from it but we'll also never get comfy with good the ways it shaped us.

we're so busy molding ourselves into a perfect future that we don't realize that the imperfect past got us here in the first place. let it exist. in all the ways it was.

#adventures in text posts #also to continue my fuckin. preaching.#you can curtail all day what people are & aren't allowed to talk about #but I ask you #what does any of this accomplish in terms of actually helping people #because I guarantee you my problematic (tm) mom does more for her community than any post I've read on this shithole #so what are you actually doing #ang yells at tumblr

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joes-sha-la-la-la-girl · 1 year ago

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Love Bites: Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Smut and swearing. 18+ only please. This fic from now on will contain cheating.

The shows in America were more than Y/N could ever have dreamed of. Since the tour started, Ultraviolet had attracted more and more attention, and the crowds were not only showing up for Def Leppard but for them as well.

Every night when she called Doug, Y/N had to try and pretend everything was normal. The last thing she wanted was to come home from the tour to nothing. Whilst most of her belongings were replaceable, there were some photos and other sentimental bits and bobs that she would want back. Knowing Doug as well as she did, Y/N knew that if she were to break up with him over the phone he would destroy everything.

Tammy had taken to sitting with Y/N whilst she was phoning her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. Almost every phone call ended with Y/N either in tears or nearly shaking with anger. Doug wasn’t against insulting her at every given opportunity, only solidifying in the woman’s mind that she had to leave him as soon as they were back in London.

Just over two weeks after their arrival, it was the beginning of April and they still had over half the tour to go. Over those two weeks, Joe and Y/N had been spending more and more time together. Although neither of them had said anything, it was mutually agreed that once Y/N broke up with Doug, the two of them would give it a go. They knew that there would be distance between them but the both of them wanted to make it work.

“Doug I’ve told you like a thousand times when the tour ends.” Y/N refrained from shouting down the phone.

“And I’ve forgotten, you’ve been away for so long now, surely you must be home soon.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a quiet sigh away from the phone.

“The tour ends on the 30th June.” She told him yet again.

“Seriously. Why does it have to be that long, it’s not like either of you are that popular yet.”

“Over here Def Leppard are huge, and I’ll have you know, Ultraviolet has been getting a bigger fan base since the tour started.” Y/N looked over at Tammy who gave her a sympathetic smile. Despite the bassist not being able to hear Doug, she just knew that it wasn’t pleasant responses her lead singer was getting.

Little did Y/N know, as she turned her back again, Joe had entered the room, not releasing that the venue phone was in use. Tammy smiled at him before leaving the room herself. Joe went to follow but with a shake of Tammy’s head he stayed put.

“That’s still three months Y/N.” Doug shouted, prompting Y/N to move the phone away from her ear.

“I know Doug, I can use a calendar.” She bit back. “There's not long until the show. I have to go.”

“You barely have any time for me now.” Doug grumbled.

“I’ll see you in three months.” Y/N said before putting the phone down.

Y/N turned around before coming face-to-face with Joe. She jumped slightly in surprise before giving him a small smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Joe told her in almost a whisper.

“It’s okay. I was just expecting Tammy that’s all.” Y/N felt herself exhausted yet again from the phone call, although this one wasn’t as intense as some of the calls between her and Doug, she still was sick of repeating herself all because he couldn’t listen to what she was saying.

“She left when I arrived.” Joe told her.

Y/N nodded before a slightly uncomfortable silence came over the two of them. Joe inched his way closer to her.

“How did it go?” He asked, referring to the phone call she just had.

“Well, about the same as they all go. I tell him something, he doesn’t listen, I have to repeat myself and he doesn’t like what I have to say. I had to lie and say that the show is about to start just to get off the phone. He doesn’t need to know that we still have a few hours.” Y/N ran her hands through her hair, getting her fingers caught in a few tangles that had formed from the backcombing she had done that morning.

Against his better judgement, Joe stepped forward again. Y/N looked up at him as he did so.

“I can’t wait for this tour to end.” He whispered as the backs of his fingers caressed her cheek. “I can’t wait for you to leave him.”

“Me neither.”

Joe found himself getting lost in her eyes. “I know we shouldn’t but…” He started, not looking away.

“No we shouldn’t.” Y/N told him before their lips collided together for a second time that tour.

It started out as a soft kiss, the two gently moving their lips in sync as they moved impossibly closer to each other. Y/N’s hand moved up to Joe’s hair and she pulled carefully, earning a small groan, much like the one from a few weeks before. She wanted to do it again but the two were interrupted by Tammy re-entering the room.

The bassist didn’t say anything as she smiled and left again, however she had effectively ruined the moment. Y/N and Joe pulled apart slowly.

“I should go.” Y/N spoke, her voice slightly hoarse. Joe just nodded and Y/N followed in the same direction Tammy went, leaving Joe alone.

After the show, Y/N refused to go out for a drink and instead opted to get some rest before they travelled the next day. All throughout the show, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, only this time there was less guilt. The more time she spent with Joe, the more she wanted to get home and break up with Doug and now it didn’t even feel like she was dating him anymore. She knew it was wrong to think that way but with every argument the distance between them felt greater.

She had just changed into her pyjamas when there was a knock on her hotel room door. She was a little confused as to who it could be because as far as she knew, everyone was out. However, she felt her heart skip a beat when she opened the door to reveal Joe.

“We really should stay away from each other.” Joe told her as soon as he saw her.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because staying away from you appears to be impossible.” Joe then moved forward and kissed her again. This time there was a sense of urgency in the kiss and Y/N couldn’t help but reciprocate it. When Joe broke the kiss, he pushed her backwards slightly so that he could enter her room and shut the door.

“Now I probably shouldn’t do this because you have a boyfriend but I can’t seem to control myself around you.”

Y/N nodded along with what he was saying.

“I can’t control myself around you either.” She told him as he pressed his lips to hers once more. He moved his hands down from her back to the back of her thighs, giving her bum a small squeeze as he did so. She let out a little squeal as he tried to lift her up. Without breaking the kiss, Y/N jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He moved the two over to her bed and laid her down, trailing his lips down her neck and sucking gently. Y/N let out a soft moan and moved her hands to Joe’s shoulders, gently digging in her fingernails.

“May I?” Joe breathed as he placed his fingers at the hem of her pyjama bottoms.

“Yes.” Y/N whispered. Without any hesitation Joe pulled her pyjama bottoms down with her underwear in one. “Please Joe.” Y/N whimpered as she felt his breath on her.

“Please what?”

“Touch me please.”

Joe didn’t waste anymore time running his fingers through her folds, finding her clit almost straight away. Y/N gasped in surprise, Doug took months to find it.

Soon enough Joe pushed two fingers inside of her groaning at the tightness. He kissed her clit and Y/N grabbed his hair for support. With the hand he wasn’t using, he moved to under her thin top and grabbed her breast, squeezing softly and brushing his fingertips over her nipple.

Y/N was overwhelmed with the sensations when Joe pulled away from her. Before she could question it, he quickly pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed a condom. Y/N sat up and reached for Joe’s jeans, undoing the button as Joe reached for her top.

The pair of them removed each other's clothes, unable to pull their eyes away from the other. Y/N reached up and kissed him again before laying back down on the bed. Joe climbed on top of her and lined himself up at her entrance.

“You sure love?”

“Yes Joe please.”

That was all Joe needed before he pushed into her. They let out moans together as they gripped onto each other. Joe waited for her to adjust before he started rocking.

Y/N let out a cry of his name as he hit that special spot inside of her, something else Doug couldn’t seem to find.

Joe set the pace for them as Y/N encouraged him by scratching her nails down his back. She moved her hips to meet him which made him go even deeper than before. Joe leaned down to kiss her as she felt tears of pleasure stream down her face.

Y/N didn’t know how long they had been rocking in sync for but soon enough she felt her high coming.

“Joe I’m gonna, fuck…”

“I know love. Come for me sweetheart.” He leant down to her ear and kissed just behind it. The sensations all became too much for her as she allowed herself to fall over the edge.

“Shit, I’m coming Y/N/N.” Joe announced as she was in the middle of her high. Y/N just clutched onto Joe tighter, as if he would disappear if she let go.

When they both finished, Joe rolled off of her, moving to the bathroom to get a washcloth. He went back and cleaned them both up, disposing of the condom and climbing into bed with her. Y/N wrapped herself around him under the duvet. Focusing on her breathing. Joe kissed her forehead and rubbed his arm up and down her back.

“We’ll sort all this love.” Joe told her before the two drifted off to sleep.

Taglist:

@genxrocker

@elliotts-personal-property

@friccinfricks

@i-love-def-leppard

@vintagerocknrollgirl

#joe elliott #joe elliott x reader #def leppard #ellen's fic #love bites fic #love bites chapter 9 #joe elliott smut

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little-miss-moonstone · 1 year ago

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The Red Thread (Carmy x OC)

Chapter Three | The Phone Call

Next | Previous | Series Master List

Summary: Carmy comes over for dinner.

WARNING: bad language, anxiety, flashbacks?, little editing. idk what else.. you know the drill, let me know if i missed anything :)

2019

Rori danced around her new apartment putting away items from the few moving boxes she had left. It had always been a dream of hers to live in New York City, and now that was her reality. To her, life seemed like it couldn’t get any better, she had her new apartment, she was halfway through writing a book she knew was a masterpiece, and she and Carmy were now living in the same city, again. And the most exciting part of all of that, to her, was that Carmy had no clue she had even moved to the city, only a few blocks from him. She almost wanted to run over to his apartment and surprise him, but she knew he would be calling her in only a few minutes, and thought of how nice it would be to hear the happiness in his voice. As if he knew she was thinking of him, her phone began to ring. She killed the music and dashed over to her phone.

“Hey,” she smiled, pressing the phone to her ear as she made her way to sit by the window that looked out at the city.

“Hey, what are you up to?” He asked, sitting on his fire escape and smoking a cigarette.

“Nothing really, just waiting for your call. How was work, or do you not wanna talk about it?” She replied, waiting for the right moment to share her good news.

“No, it was the same. I, uh, was thinking about fishmas this morning,” He shared before taking a drag.

“Bear, that was, uh, an interesting night for everyone. I’m okay and you’re okay, we made it out. That’s all we can focus on. Donna is, well, Donna, and I don’t know what got into Mikey, but from what Richie tells me he’s okay,” She tried to comfort him and it did help, but that wasn’t what he was referring to.

“Yeah, I know. I was thinking about our talk, outside. You never finished what you had to tell me,” He reminded. It had been driving him crazy for the last 7 months, but he hadn’t dared to bring it up. Rori froze on the other end of the phone. Her mind went back to that night, a night she had tried so hard to forget, especially what he was now asking about. She could lie, say she forgot, or she could take a chance and tell the truth. Her mind combed through all the moments from their teens and early 20s, the brushing of fingers, the glances across rooms, the tension, and flirtatious undertones.

“Uh, yeah, umm. I don’t know if it’s really all that important anymore,” She spoke in a shy demeanor, this was something Carmy easily picked up on.

“Come on, Rori. It’s you and me, you can tell me anything,” He promised, just as he always had. The caring nature of his voice made her fold like a piece of paper.

“Carmy, I-I want to tell you, and I’ve wanted to for a while I just don’t know how. You and I, we’re solid, and this might change that,” She explained.

He knew what she had to say. It was what he had wanted to say for years, but the thought of it all going wrong had silenced him. He couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving him and he knew it would happen. He couldn’t give her the love she deserved. The words “You are nothing” began to ring through his mind.

“Tell me,” were the only words he could get out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since we were kids,” She confirmed. They were both quiet, neither of them wanting to speak, but as the seconds passed by her anxiety began to take over. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid, God, just- we can forget about it, right? Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s o-okay, uh, we- we can just- uh, we can talk tomorrow,” He replied. This was his way out.

“Okay, uh, I’ll talk to you then,” She replied before she hung up the phone. She stared out at the city as tears slipped down her face, she knew deep down they would never be the same.

Present Day (2022)

Rori was preparing dinner, she didn’t know if Carmen would even be hungry but she couldn’t help to think how nice it would be to cook for him. She was making a classic carbonara, something they both grew up eating. She was stirring the egg yolks rapidly when she heard the knock on her door.

“Just come in, Carmy!” She yelled from the kitchen, while she continued to stir.

He was shocked her front door was unlocked, this was Chicago after all. What if it hadn’t been him at the door and some maniac had just barged in? He locked the door behind him, finding his way to her kitchen easily, as he followed the delicious smell. He found her in front of the stove, her back to him as he took his surroundings in.

“Y’know, it’s really unsafe for you to leave your front door unlocked,” He got her attention, as she turned the heat off and began plating.

“I know, but I knew you would be here soon, and had I come to the door we would’ve had noodles and scrambled eggs,” She informed while she plated the food. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet or at all today, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, no. I haven’t,” He assured, “This looks great. Is this your mom’s recipe or my mom’s?” He asked, bringing his plate closer to inspect.

“Your mom’s. I prefer her sauce,” She gave a soft smile, “Uhh, let me get you something to drink, I have water, wine, or whiskey.” She turned to the cabinet where she kept the glasses.

He chuckled at the options, “Water is fine.”

She quickly got him and herself a glass of water, while directing him where to get forks, and then they switched out items. It was for a brief second they both felt a moment of domestication like he had come home from work to her cooking dinner. They both shrugged the thought from their minds, taking a bite, and letting the dish take over.

“Wow. Don’t tell her, but this might be better than mom’s,” He smiled. He was being genuine and she knew that, returning the smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of telling her that. She would kill me, then you,” She chuckled. There was a brief moment of silence before she spoke, again, “I haven’t talked to her since Mikey, I, uh, figured I would just give her some space. I actually haven’t even told my parents I moved back, either. I- well, that situation hasn’t changed in the last 3 years. I, uh, well, my mom’s like your mom, and my dad is…”

“M.I.A.,” He finished her sentence. His mouth continued before his mind could catch up. “Have you spoken to him since that night?”

“No, I don’t think I can. He just left so easily, like I was nothing to him. I’m worth more than that. I miss him, though, the old him. I think about that version of him a lot. How he used to take us for ice cream, or how he and your dad would joke abo-“ she stopped herself, “while we played in the yard, or whatever.”

They continued eating through casual conversation and when they were done she rinsed their plates and left them in the sink to wash later. He moved into her living room looking around at the pictures on the mantle. One of Rori and Mikey from what had to be only a couple of years ago, one of her and Sugar from her first book signing, one of her holding Eva the day she was born, and lastly, one of the two of them from Fishmas, it was different from the one he had of them. In this one they were both smiling, only she was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. He remembered that moment, it was just after the picture he had was taken.

“We won’t have another Christmas like that, I fear,” She joked while taking a seat on her couch. He let out a soft chuckle before taking the seat opposite of her.

“I guess, we should talk about the elephant in the room,” She suggested and the atmosphere changed back to between comfortable and awkward, and Carmy couldn’t stand it.

“Honestly, this is all my fault. I-I, well you know how I am, I push people away. You gave me an opportunity to push you away that night and I took it. I know it was a dickhead move and I’m really sorry. I completely understand if you can’t forgive me, we can just carry on and I won’t bother you at al-“ He was cut off.

“I forgive you.”

He sat there for a moment trying to process the words that had come out of her mouth. How could she forgive him that easily, after he had completely cut her out of his life? She couldn’t even forgive her father for basically doing the same thing.

“You forgive me?” He repeated, not quite believing it only took an apology and his idiotic rambling.

“I forgive you. Carmy, all I ever wanted was an apology and a fucking explanation. You just gave me both. I want us to start fresh, well, like from before that night. I know it’ll probably take some time for us to get back to that, but I’m willing to give it a shot. If you are,” She replied and he smiled at her forgiving nature. He was about to agree, but she continued, “On one condition.” He nodded, almost begging her to speak, he would do anything to ensure she was back in his life like she was before.

“If you ever think you can pull some bullshit like that on me, again. I swear to God, Carmy, I will beat your ass. You don’t get to push me, of all people, away,” She was firm and yet, gentle and he couldn’t help to admire that.

He nodded, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

From there the two fell into a comfortable conversation catching up on the last few years and then reminiscing on their youth. She was in the middle of telling him a story about a night out she had in London last year and he couldn’t help to think of how lucky he was to be sitting in her home with her, while she seemed to be enjoying his presence. He felt almost whole for the first time in years, and he knew it was her that had been missing.

It was late when Carmy left, both of them so caught up in conversation that it would be a rough day running on little sleep. Sugar beating on Rori’s front door didn’t help as she jolted awake to see it was 6:45 in the morning. Rori opened the door in her sweatshirt and shorts she had slept in, along with bedhead, and an unamused look on her face.

“Good morning, Sunshine. How was your dinner date with Carmy?” Sugar smiled pushing past Rori into the house.

“Oh, fuck off. You woke me up to be nosy? You couldn’t just call me at lunchtime?” Rori huffed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Did he sleep here? Oh my god, is he in your room?” She asked, quieting her voice and throwing Rori for a loop. The girl felt like her brain had short-circuited at the thought of Carmen staying over, much less in her bed.

“What? No, he did not sleep here,” Rori got defensive.

“Oh, I drove by at 10:30 last night and I saw his car was still here, s-“

“You did what!? Sugar, I cannot believe you were stalking us,” Rori sighed, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration. “Okay, I’m going to give you a summary of the night and then you're going to get the hell out of my house, and then I’ll give you a call when I’m not as angry as I am right now, okay?” When Sugar nodded, she continued, “He came over, we had dinner, he apologized, and I forgave him. Goodbye,” Rori finished guiding her friend outside. She shut the door, and locked it, leaving Sugar on her front porch while she returned to bed.

Only now that she was lying in bed, she was wide awake. Fucking Berzatto’s, she thought to herself as she leaned over grabbing her laptop from her nightstand. She sat up to work on the squeal she promised her publisher would be done by the end of the year. In her defense, she had half of the year left, but she also had only written a few chapters. She opened her notes and began mapping out the rest of the story.

Carmy had already been at the restaurant for a couple of hours, his mind not allowing him much sleep. When Sydney arrived at the restaurant she noticed that he was in the best mood she had ever seen him in, her first thought was he got laid, but she couldn’t imagine he was into hookups and she knew he wasn’t in a relationship. She began her prep while trying to figure out if she should ask, or just enjoy a happy Carmy for once. She let it go knowing Richie would ask, but when he arrived he didn’t. He did notice, and he wanted to ask, but the fact that it could have something to do with Rori made him bite his tongue, that was until she stopped by the restaurant just in time for family. While she was formally introducing herself to Sydney and signing her copy of “The Red Thread”, Richie decided to take this opportunity to question Carmy.

“Yo, Cousin,” He said, getting the younger man’s attention, “This whole “Mr. Nice guy” thing doesn’t have anything to do with Rori Bear, does it?”

Carmy almost smiled at the nickname he hadn’t heard in year, but he caught himself. “Uh, I don’t know. I went to her house last night, we, uh,” Richie seemed extremely hopeful in that moment, “talked about- I apologized. Um, we’re just kind of starting over from where we left off.” He explained, and while that was still great news, Richie was hoping there was more.

“You just apologized?” He asked, “You guys just talked like that’s all?” Carmy could tell what he was implying and it reminded him of the talks he used to get from him and Mikey.

“Cousin, stop. We’re not doing this. Rori and I are back at a place where we actually talk to each other and she doesn’t seem to be freaking out about being in the same room as me. So we’re going to leave it right there, okay? I don’t need you putting all that bullshit in my head like you and Mikey used to.” He assured.

“Bullshit? Cousin, are you fucking stupid?” Richie questioned.

“Yo. I just said we're not fucking doing this. Go take your seat for family,” Carmen ordered.

Rori sat in between Carmy and Richie at the table, Tina was quick to start up a conversation with the girl having not seen her in a few years. Rori could feel Carmy briefly tense up when her time working at The Beef came up, and it didn’t help when Richie joined in. She tried steering the conversation to a new topic knowing Carmy would ask about her time at the restaurant. She thought he might forget if the topic changed a few times. Sydney started gushing over her book and trying to get any information about the sequel.

“I mean Rose and Cameron have to end up together, right? Like they can’t be that oblivious, especially when everyone around them is constantly telling them,” Sydney explained. Carmy turned to listen, wanting more details of the book he hadn’t read yet.

“You would be surprised. I know some real stubborn motherfuckers, who make Rose and Cam look normal,” Richie entered the conversation.

“Cousin, quit acting like you read it,” Carmy let out a small laugh.

“I did fucking read it, all 319 pages! And let me tell you Cameron’s a real jagoff. How can he be so in love with Rose and then do fuck all about it, and then be miserable? Stupid rat does it to himself,” Richie remarked, jolting up from his chair.

“Okay, Richie. It’s fictional, let's not lose our heads,” Rori guided him back down to his chair. “Guys, I’m going to be honest. I’ve only written a few chapters of the next book, and I have no clue yet whether they are going to end up together or not in the end, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’ll just have to find out when I send your copies,” She smiled, returning to her food.

When family wrapped up, Carmy was quick to step out back for a smoke break, learning that Rori worked at the restaurant, and all the talk about a book he felt guilty for not reading, was taking up his mind. He wasn’t expecting her to come join him, she had never cared for the smell of cigarette smoke, so when she asked for a drag, he was completely caught off guard. He studied her face trying to pick up on any subtle hints as to if she was joking and when she furrowed her brows in confusion, he knew she was serious. He cautiously handed it over watching to see if she inhaled when she took a drag.

“When did you start smoking? You hated it when we were kids,” He asked, leaning back on the brick wall. He could tell she was reading him like a book with his cigarette between her lips, and he hated how much he adored it and how jealous he was of a fucking cigarette.

“Like 3 years ago. I thought it would help with the stress and anxiety. News flash, it fucking doesn’t. I don’t allow myself to smoke all the time, but with this next book, I might become a chain smoker,” She gave a small giggle and handed him back the nicotine stick.

“When did you work here?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Pandemic. I moved back temporarily and Mikey needed help, and I had writer's block so I figured “What the hell”. It wasn’t long, maybe a few months. I, uh, do you know who Nico is?” She wondered, not wanting to snitch on Mikey. When Carmy nodded she continued, “I caught them, Mikey and Richie, they were back here in the alley dealing. I was pissed, Mikey and I got into this huge fight, mostly over the coke. He told me I couldn’t work here anymore, he didn’t want me around his “bullshit” because I had made something of myself,” She paused again, “He felt the same way about you.”

It was silent, both of them just looking at each other as he passed the cigarette back to her. It was comfortable, but only for a second. Carmy couldn’t figure out if they were the same people they were three years ago, there was still so much he didn’t know about her. He was relatively the same, but it was as if she had lived a thousand different lives.

“Where were you living before the pandemic, and before now?” He didn’t want her to feel like it was an interrogation, but he was just so curious. He noticed her slightly tense up and for a moment he regretted even asking, but that was only until he heard her mutter the words, “New York City.”

“You were in New York?” There was a mix of emotions behind his words, he wasn’t even sure what he felt in that moment. Was he upset, confused, or was he angry?

“Yeah, I moved there the day of the phone call. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t really get the chance. I’ve been there for the last three years. A few blocks from Madison Park,” She confirmed.

Carmen felt like an even bigger dickhead at that moment. All he could think about was the fact that he threw away what could’ve been the best years of their lives. What if, instead of pushing her away that night, he pulled her closer? He thought of all they could’ve done together in the city away from this breeding ground of family trauma and anxiety, they could’ve been so happy… together.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay. I got caught up with my birthday this past weekend, work, and registering for classes because i decided to go back to school.. not to mention the fucking Calvin Klein ad and the golden globes. Ugh, anyways, I hope you’re enjoying so far and hopefully another chapter will be out soon!!

#the bear #carmy berzatto #camry x oc #carmen berzatto #carmy angst #carmy the bear #jeremy allen white

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