#my friends are doing something cool again!

[sourdeers]

𓄲 ❝A MOMENT’S HESITATION❞

pairing ﹕ katsuki bakugou x reader

— content warning: part one here. confessions! deaf! katsuki. hearing aid malfunctions. reading lips. reader cries. profanity. kissing. soft! katsuki. arguing. — word count ﹕ 1,408 — a/n: I AM SO GLAD SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART TWO OF THIS OH MY DAYS ! ! request here.

a week passes and things have been . . well, to put it lightly, awkward. katsuki’s texts are dry, he makes himself scarce in your presence, and when he actually talks to you, he sounds almost strained. you’re not sure whether or not he still wants you to attend the dinner party. when you text him about it, he sends a quick,

03:43 [ kats ] : yeah

it’s almost nerve wracking knocking on his door later that evening. the party starts at seven, but you show up at five. partly to give yourself time to get ready, and partly because you want to know what the hell is going on with katsuki.

“hey,” he greets curtly, nodding once. he looks past you, like he can’t meet your eyes. “you’re early.”

you blink at him. once, twice, before taking a deep breath. “i showed up early last time, too. i came to hang out with you, update you on my life. you know, since you haven’t bothered to check up lately.” you know it’s a little bitchy, but he deserves it right? he’s all but ignored you this past week.

he winces at your words and you feel a little bad. “yeah, i’ve been, uh, busy.” there’s a pause, then he steps to the side. “hungry? my mom made a cheese board thing, so there’s shit left over.”

you shift your bag on your shoulder—the one that contains your dress, makeup, and other various items you might need tonight—and shake your head. “not hungry.”

“cool.” you walk inside, brushing his shoulder as you do so.

this is so weird. you feel like a first year again, treading lightly around the angry blonde who wasn’t there to make friends. except this time, he’s not angry, just uncharacteristically quiet. without his guidance, you make your way to his room, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

he follows, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat at his desk. your eyes drift from him to the vivarium sitting on said desk, where his snake is perched in a log. you get distracted for a moment, staring into the seemingly mesmerizing eyes of viper. a cliche name, you think, but katsuki got the snake when he was a wannabe badass twelve-year-old, so you can’t really judge it.

katsuki clears his throat and you snap your head over to him, meeting his carmine eyes. “did you pass the test?”

“test?” you repeat, brows meeting in the middle.

“the one in mic’s? i helped you study for it?”

“oh, right.” you nod a couple times. “yeah, i passed it. it was actually easier than i thought it was going to be, i don’t know.”

he smiles, weak and not full of pride like you’re used to. “probably ‘cause i helped you, huh?”

you nod again, tight-lipped. an awkward silence settles over you, reminding you of silence from last week, when he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“okay,” you say frustratedly, throwing your hands up. “what’s your deal, katsuki? you’ve been acting really weird for the past week and it’s really confusing. did i, like, do something wrong? because you’re normal with kiri and mina, but when it comes to me you’re . . . standoffish?”

he stares at you like a deer stuck in headlights, unblinking, unmoving. he stays like that for a long, drawn-out moment. it feels like years, but can’t be more than a few seconds. “you didn’t do anything,” he mumbles finally.

“cool, so you’re just acting like an ass for no reason?”

“i’m not acting like an ass!” he exclaims, fists clenching where they rest on his thighs. “i’m-“ he cuts himself off, sighing, and stands up, chair rolling behind him. “i’m not acting like an ass, i’ve just been . . .”

“busy,” you finish for him, a dejected tone to your voice. “right. too busy to text me, too busy to not walk away everytime i enter a room, too busy to talk to me like a normal fucking person. right, no, yeah. that makes total sense.” you roll your eyes and stand as well, fixing your bag as you sigh. “listen, if you didn’t want me to come tonight, you should have said so. i have schoolwork to do anyway.”

you make a move for the door, but he sidesteps, now planted in front of you. his eyes bore into yours, face flushed, jaw set. to an outside party, he’d seem pissed. to you, however, this is pure frustration.

“katsuki, move.”

“no.”

“jesus christ!” you say in an incredulous laugh, letting your bag fall to the ground as your arms go limp. you spin on your heel and press your palms to your eyes. “you won’t talk to me, and you won’t let me leave.” you turn back to him and glare. “what do you want from me, katsuki? you can’t keep acting like this and expect me to go along with it?”

without a moment's hesitation from him, he surges forward, cupping your face, and plants his lips on yours.

you’re frozen in your spot, eyes wide, nervous system going haywire. you’re unsure of what to do. is this why he’s been acting so weird all week? because he likes you?

as soon as your mind catches up with reality, and you let your eyes fall shut, he makes a grunting sound and pulls away, not meeting your eyes. he brings a hand up to his ear and snaps a couple times, brows furrowing in frustration.

“what the fuck?” he mumbles to himself, pulling his hearing aid off and turning it over to look at the battery. you can vaguely see a green light flashing and realize his hearing aids have died.

just your luck. of course his hearing aids would die in the middle of the most telling moment of your guys’ relationship. and of course your sign language is still shitty. and of course you would start to cry, because why wouldn’t you?

he must sense a disturbance in the air because he looks up at you, eyes softening as he clocks the tears welling up in your eyes. “i’m sorry,” he says quietly. you can’t tell if it’s because he’s scared of being too loud or if it’s because he’s trying to be soft, but it makes you cry even harder.

“you kissed me,” you whisper, running a hand down your face. his brows furrow in confusion, gaze dropping to your mouth. “you kissed me,” you repeat, this time trying to make it more intelligible.

“stupid fucking hearing aids,” he curse, more to himself than to you. he scowls, then looks at you and sighs. “i’m not good with words. i was hoping that, uh, kissing you would explain it for me. did it?”

you let out a small, wet laugh and shake your head. “does this mean you like me too?”

“wait, go slower.”

katsuki fully lost his hearing in second year, meaning he can still say words properly without his hearing aids, but has trouble reading lips. he’s improved a lot since then, but it’s still shoddy.

you chew the inside of your cheek. “do you like me?” you repeat, this time slower, more articulate.

hesitantly, he nods. “that’s why i’ve been acting like a douche. because i didn’t . . .” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “i didn’t think you liked me back. and i was trying to distance myself. you- you do like me, right?”

a grin splits across your face, and you take his face in your hands. you lean forward, stopping just before his lips, and whisper, “i think i might love you, katsuki bakugou.” you close the distance between you too.

his hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your hands slide around his neck. for a moment, you get lost in him. in the way his lips slot against yours like they were made for each other, in the sounds he doesn’t know he’s making, in the way his fingers dig into your skin. you could stay like this forever, you think.

eventually, you have to breathe, so you pull away, resting your forehead on his. there’s a seemingly permanent smile placed on your face. his chest heaves and he returns the smile, quickly picking your lips once again.

“you know i have no idea what you said to me before that, right?” he asks softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and your mouth.

you just laugh.

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

[ladyycherryy]

Hi just first wanted to say I love ur writing, it's so nice to read as if am really seeing it physically. Anyways I wanted to ask if you could write a starfire type reader where she first meets mark and how their relationship grows . Exploring his friends and parents reaction to her power , tamaranean background and personality. I know damn well cecil will be exhausted finding out there's another alien race with so much power . thank you again for ur work in the invincible fandom cause there's so few amazing writers. 😘😘

Ahhh thank you so much!! 🥹💖 That means the world to me!! I LOVE the idea of a Starfire-type reader I don’t know much of her but I tried my best (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) hope you enjoy!!

Mark first meets you under a.. Chaotic circumstance. An alien attack and he is already in mid-fight when you swoop in. Blasting through enemies, striking, and flipping with this effortless grace. Mark is immediately like Σ(°□°˶) !! So powerful, he can't take his eyes off of you. He's already impressed but also slightly intimidated. “Uh… who are you?” But you can't understand him yet, titling your head blinking in confusion. “You don't understand me, do you?”

Without hesitation you float towards him, placing your hands gently on his cheek and kissing him. Mark freezes. His eyes widened. You pull back, lips turning into a bright smile. “Ah! Now i understand”

“What just happened?”

“In my homeworld, Tamaran, lip contact is a simple custom to learn any language”

“simple..??” Mark is completely flustered while you're acting like kissing him was the most normal thing in the world.

He starts seeing you around more often, you being curious about Earth. Everything from human customs to food. Mark ends up becoming your unofficial guide. You’re fascinated by Earth’s food, the first time Mark takes you out for burgers, you literally hover out of your seat from excitement. “This is delicious! May I try yours?” and before he could answer you, steal a fry from his tray. Acting like fries are the greatest discovery of your life. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Mark becomes curious about Tamaranean culture and one day you got him to try something from your home plant – Zorkaberries. Presenting them to him proudly, a small bowl of deep purple berries in your hand, Mark would eye them suspiciously. He hesitated for a moment before picking one, and popping it in his mouth. The flavor being bittersweet “Whoa, this is really good?”

“Of course! They are Zorkaberries!!” giggling, floating closer and patting his back “do you wish for more?”

Tamaraneans are naturally affectionate so you're constantly touching mark. Holding his hand, brushing your fingers through his hair, and hugging him from behind. It's second nature to you. The more you two hang out and go on dates the more you start falling in love, he loves how blunt you are and have no problem telling Mark exactly how you feel — even if it flusters him.

When you first met his parents, Debbie and Nolan. You were extremely polite, immediately hugging her and complimenting her home. Offering to help with dinner which she is surprised but pleased by. During dinner time you speak of tales of your planet, your people, how you come from a warrior race and noble family. Nolan, on the other hand, is suspicious of you. He recognizes how powerful you are and the fact that you come from an alien race puts him on edge. His Viltrumite instincts are definitely twitching, wary of you but you remain cheerful and unbothered.

Cecil is immediately rubbing his temples because 2 Viltrumites is already bad enough – now there's Tamaranean on earth? Just what he needed, but deep down he knows you could be an invaluable ally , keeping a close eye on you to ensure you're not up to something.

As for mark friends ? William thinks you're super cool, saved him from a villain once and he won't stop yapping about how you carried him bridal style. Amber loves how sweet and down to earth you are, obsessed with helping you pick out earth clothes and doing ‘girl stuff’ together. Eve is immediately fascinated by you, she recognizes your power level and asks you about your planet and your culture. “So you guys can fly and absorb sunlight? That's insane”

“It is quite convenient!”

Bonus:

Afterward, Mark’s brain is still trying to catch up. Mark (to himself): “She’s a literal princess. And she kissed me. To learn my language. Okay.” (꜆꜄ᴗ͈﹏ᴗ͈)꜆꜄꜆

[jyeoulzhu]

skill issue

summary . y/n, a streamer, gets destroyed in overwatch by karina, a top player. what starts as playful rivalry turns into something more, ending with karina soft-launching their relationship on stream.

pairing . yu jimin (karina) x male reader

note . inspired by someone's work here on tumblr i forgot their user and i can't find it anymore. also a karina oneshot.. so if you know them please tag them 😓🙏

y/n had always been the type to chill at the local comshop with his boys, grinding ranked games and talking shit like it was their second home. it was their routine, their escape from the chaos of school and whatever else life threw at them. but tonight… tonight was different.

the atmosphere was tense as y/n, mingyu, intak, and juyeon locked in their heroes on overwatch. the four of them were known in the comshop—decent players, occasional streamers on twitch, and absolute menaces when it came to voice comms. but this match? this was pure hell.

the opposing widowmaker was untouchable. every peek was met with an instant headshot. every attempt to dive her ended in death. they couldn’t even step out of spawn without getting sniped.

headshot. headshot. headshot.

“who the hell is this guy?” y/n groaned as his character dropped dead for the tenth time.

“nah, bro, this ain’t normal,” mingyu said, visibly stressed.

“i can’t even step out of spawn,” juyeon added.

the chat in their stream was going wild.

—

chat: WHO TF IS KRNXP????

chat: they’re farming y’all like npcs 💀

chat: uninstall, bro

—

y/n leaned into his mic. “yo, if you’re watching this… dm me. i just wanna talk.”

seconds later, the enemy widowmaker hit another headshot.

[krnxp] (widowmaker): stay mad.

y/n stared at his screen, jaw dropped.

“bro. she replied. she fucking replied,” y/n whispered, eyes wide with panic.

mingyu screamed. “SHE??? KRNXP IS A GIRL???”

“wait… no… don’t tell me this is—”

“karina,” juyeon said, dead serious. “top player. undefeated. literal legend.”

y/n sat there in disbelief. he’d been simping for karina for months. and now? he just got farmed by her.

“holy shit… i just got violated by my comfort streamer,” y/n whispered.

mingyu immediately grabbed his phone. “NO WAY. SHE JUST COOKED YOU ON MAIN.”

“nah, you can’t let this slide,” intak said, hyping him up.

“1v1 her,” juyeon added, completely serious.

y/n blinked. “are you guys insane? i’d get smoked.”

“exactly,” juyeon smirked. “get humbled, then bag her.”

—

the 1v1 lobby loaded.

“you nervous?” karina’s voice echoed through the comms, cool and unbothered.

y/n muted his mic and screamed into his hoodie.

“bro, she’s flirting. i’m gonna pass out,” he whispered to his friends.

y/n’s hands were literally trembling on his mouse. this wasn’t just any 1v1. this was karina. the girl who single-handedly destroyed him and had been living rent-free in his head for months.

“you good over there?” karina’s voice echoed through the comms, smooth and low.

y/n choked on air.

“me? yeah. totally fine,” he lied, already spiraling.

the match started.

three seconds in, y/n peeked. instant headshot.

he stared blankly at the killcam.

karina giggled. “cute.”

y/n’s soul officially left his body.

—

chat: LMFAOOOO

chat: HE’S FOLDED ALREADY

chat: nah bro’s in love

—

“oh my god,” y/n muttered, fully spiraling.

karina giggled. “you’re cute when you panic.”

y/n’s brain: system error.

—

after getting absolutely obliterated 20-3, y/n was done.

“you let me get three kills out of pity, huh?” he asked in defeat.

karina smirked. “maybe.”

y/n wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

intak threw his headset. “NAH THIS IS INSANE.”

—

after that night, karina started showing up in y/n’s streams.

“yo, why is krnxp in our game again?” mingyu asked during one match.

“nah, bro… she’s stalking you,” intak teased.

y/n? he was already in love.

—

the slow burn was real.

karina would randomly hop into y/n’s ranked games, casually carrying while y/n tried (and failed) to impress her.

“dude, why do you keep playing genji if you can’t aim?” she teased.

“i’m trying to look cool…” y/n mumbled.

—

one night, y/n was streaming when the door behind him creaked open.

“yo, who just came in?”

everyone expected it to be one of the boys.

but no.

karina casually walked into frame… wearing his hoodie.

chat exploded.

—

chat: HELLO??????

chat: WE WON. WE SOFT LAUNCHED.

chat: Y/N, YOU’RE COOKING.

—

y/n ended stream in pure panic.

“bro, you just exposed us to 10k viewers,” y/n said.

karina smirked, stealing his drink. “should’ve locked your door.”

[lvrrgirlll]

Dublin in ecstasy // wanted to write something silly for st patrick’s day so here’s this (two days late...)

paring: artrick x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: oral m and f receiving, spitroasting, drunk sex, hastily proofread lol

a/n: this is highkey all over the place so keep in mind i am NOT claiming this to be my best work by any means lol... just something silly for the holiday (I say that and then I somehow ended up writing 3.5k words but that's besides the point)

The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. Art had decided to do a semester abroad in Ireland while Patrick conveniently was playing tournament in Dublin. And better yet, it all lined up over St. Patrick’s Day.

“C’mon man, it’s my fucking day after all,” Patrick insisted as he stretched out his arms as if basking in his own glory. The two men were holed up in Art’s dorm, a single, of course, since the Europeans always seemed to have more class when it came to university living situations.

“You’re playing the day after tomorrow and I’ve got a mountain of assignments I’m behind on. We’re not getting drunk tonight,” Art retorted quickly, shooting Patrick a stern glance. This hard front, though, swiftly melted when Patrick brought his hands to Art’s shoulders, leaning down so he was at eye level as Art sat at his desk.

“You don’t wanna help me celebrate my day?” He gave him a puppy dog stare, really trying to break down his best friend’s cool exterior. And he knew deep down that Art could be like putty in his hands if he played his cards right. Art’s eyes scanned Patrick’s dramatized expression, leaving him sighing in resignation.

“Fine,” Art groaned, rolling his eyes. “Can we just take it easy though?”

“Yeah man, sure. Whatever you want.”

Art should’ve trusted his gut when he had even an inkling that they wouldn’t be taking it easy. It was St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin for fucks sake. Patrick had outfitted them both with hastily made (sharpied on) “kiss me I’m Irish” shirts much to Art’s protest.

“It’s gonna be a let down when girls see me in this shirt and then hear my American accent,” Art huffs, tugging at the ends of the shirt.

“Nah man, it’s a conversation starter. You just have to be a conversation continuer. Plus, it’s straightforward. It’s a holiday. Girls will kiss you if your shirt says so.” Patrick seemed very confident about that.

“I’m like one-sixteenth Irish man, this feels like false advertising.”

“Forget about it, it’s not like I’m Darby O’Gill or anything, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Art sighed yet again, feeling more and more like this was a bad idea. His mind changed, however, when he and Patrick saw you from across the pub.

They’d been there for about an hour now, standing off to the side, pints of Guinness in hand, trying to feel out what kind of night it’d be. Of course, Patrick was eyeing nearly every girl in the place, most of them with their strong Irish boyfriends, though, but he wasn’t really interested until he noticed you.

You were notably without a boyfriend, currently arguing with the bartender about the pour on your Guinness. Both Art and Patrick were awestruck. The way you were so passionate was admirable, and it definitely helped that, to the both of them, you were the most beautiful girl in the place.

“I’ll be back, don’t wait up too long,” Patrick murmured, slipping away from Art and towards you.

Art stammered, trying to think of a way to stop Patrick, but Patrick just turned around, reminding him how he wanted to “take it easy” tonight. Damnit. Art was eating his own words.

“You seem like you know your beer,” Patrick mused, trying to seem nonchalant from behind you. You turned and he had to physically restrain himself from letting his jaw go slack. From a distance you were already something else, but up close, even a ladies man like Patrick would be flustered.

“Not really. I just know when they’ve screwed me giving me more air than actual drink,” you joked, taking the handsome stranger in as you turned around.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.” It was excessively bold, but Patrick had already downed two pints, quickly going on three, and was feeling ballsy.

He watched as your eyes flitted down then, reading the messily written words on his shirt. You giggled. “Are you really Irish? You don’t have an accent,” you asked then, an eyebrow quirking up as you looked up at him.

“As Irish as you want me to be,” he chuckled before shaking his head. “No, really, I’m like 10% Irish. It hardly counts.”

A smirk flashed across your lips as you shot him a devious look through your lashes. “So I shouldn’t kiss you then?” That left him grasping for words, unsure where to take this. Of course, he wanted to kiss you. But his desperation (and slight drunkenness) was getting in the way of his sarcastic, charming banter.

Just in time, though, Art swooped in, much to Patrick’s dismay. “Hi, uh… I saw you from across the room, I just wanted to come say you’re, uh, really beautiful.” Smooth.

Patrick stifled a chuckle, giving Art a skeptical glance from behind you. Art’s eyes narrowed briefly as he glanced at Patrick, a subtle sign that the game was on, but you didn’t miss it.

“Do you two know each other?” You looked between the two of them, brows furrowing as you took a sip of your drink.

They had to give in, of course. The pair formally introduced themselves, gave you the whole spiel about how they go way back and they both play tennis, and Art was sure to mention that he was there for school (selfishly hoping that would impress you).

“So what are you doing in Ireland,” Art asked, ever the gentleman.

“I’ve taken a semester off of school to travel. I guess I’m sort of seeking new experiences; new opportunities, y’know.” You couldn’t help but notice that as you spoke both of them seemed to be hanging off of every word.

“New experiences, huh,” Patrick repeated, smirking before taking a heavy swig from his drink. He didn’t miss the wink you gave him from over the rim of his glass, but he decided to keep any more comments to himself for the time being.

Art kept the conversation going, mostly because he was drunk too at this point and he didn’t want you to leave. You talked for a while, the pub slowly getting more and more crowded (it was St. Patrick’s Day after all), until you were abruptly run into, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself.

“Fuck,” you cursed, the cold of the drink running down your body and soaking right through (and staining) your now see-through white shirt.

Neither Art nor Patrick knew exactly what to do, but Patrick ran to your rescue immediately, shouting at the guy who had run into you. Art had, more passively, made a break for the bathroom, getting paper towels. It was all no use, though. You were soaked; cold, wet, and uncomfortable. And it was looking like Patrick was on his way to a bar fight.

That’s how the three of you ended up stood outside the bar, you clutching your jacket around your body, Patrick pouting about getting you guys kicked out, and Art feeling sorry that he couldn’t help either of you more.

Patrick moved for his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and holding it in your direction. Though you didn’t typically smoke, you took one. It had been a night. As Patrick held his lighter up to the end of the cigarette, you two exchanged glances, still lust filled despite the unsavory events that got you here.

All of you sat in silence, taking steady drags off the cigarettes until you laughed, a dry, sarcastic little laugh. “Y’know what’s great?” You looked in their direction. “I don’t even live around here. I came cause I’ve got some friends here, but they all ditched me for their boyfriends and now I’ve got to take the bus home like this,” you spoke frustratedly, looking down at your state. That’s when a sneaky little idea came to Patrick.

“Well, my hotel’s only a 5 minute walk from here. Come shower there, you can dry off and then you can take the bus back to wherever it is,” he nearly insisted. Art shot him a look that you couldn’t quite discern, but Patrick didn’t seem moved by it. “What do ‘ya say? It’s not a bad idea…” he gave you those same puppy dog eyes he had given Art before, and damnit, they really did work. Patrick Zweig could convince the Pope to convert if he wanted to.

“Sure. Yeah, ok, lead the way.” Obviously, you knew deep down that this would not just be some sort of act of convenience and kindness, but hey, you weren't really opposed to that.

On the walk over, Art huddled up close to Patrick, whispering endless questions and concerns. "Dude, what am I supposed to do? Walk of shame back to my place while you get to fuck her?" He snuck a glance back at you trying to make sure you hadn't heard him. Patrick slung an arm around him, though, pulling him in closer.

"Don't you worry, Artie," his tone was mocking, but still somehow reassuring. "Let St. Patrick handle it. I have a feeling both of us will be getting lucky tonight." Art rolled his eyes, absolutely sick of the holiday related talk, but he took it in stride, trusting his friend (against his better judgement). It's not like they hadn't talked about sharing girls before. Maybe it really was that Irish luck that had sent you their way.

Back at Patrick's hotel, which was much nicer than you had expected (it was on his parents' dime, after all), you made a break for the shower, dying to free yourself from the confines of your drenched shirt. While you showered, the guys were talking strategy.

"So if it turns out she is only into one of us, then what," Art asked from the armchair in the corner.

"Then one of us gets to fuck her, obviously. If it comes to it, I'd get out of here for you." Art shakes his head at Patrick's crude words. "But like I said earlier, I think we could both luck out tonight. I mean, she did say she was looking for new experiences after all..."

"Right," Art quipped sarcastically. Both of them in their drunkenness had failed to realize that the water had stopped running, though.

"Imagine the noises she'd make...fuck man. And the way she'd probably give you the best head of your life. You saw her lips, right?"

"Jesus, Patrick, you've gotta stop,” Art sighed, a light laugh escaping though.

"But I'm right, right?" A silence lingered between the two before Art looked to Patrick, a goofy smile painted across his features.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. I wouldn't make her do that, though. I mean, she seems like she'd be more into receiving than giving anyways, y'know..." And Patrick nodded. He knew exactly what Art meant.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked, making the boys' heads snap back in your direction. Now in only Patrick's t-shirt, which he had promptly stripped off and offered you when you got to the hotel, you padded out of the bathroom.

“Shit, did you hear that,” Art asked, embarrassed. Clearly, he couldn’t have been that embarrassed though, his eyes raking down your bare legs hungrily. Patrick, similarly, took no discretion in ogling you, leaning back and smiling like a cat who got the cream.

“You look good in my shirt, babe.” The nickname was maybe a bit much, but then again, when was Patrick ever afraid of too much?

Taking a seat on the bed, you smiled, looking down at the shirt again, chuckling lightly to yourself.

“You’d look better with it off, though…” he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you could hear it.

One thing led to another and now you, Art, and Patrick were all on the bed, Art kissing your neck and along your jaw while Patrick had lifted up your shirt and was paying close attention to your tits. It was unfamiliar, feeling two sets of lips on you at once, but there was something so euphoric about it too.

“Have you guys done this before-,” a slight gasp escaped your lips, cutting you off. “Shared the same girl?” Art hummed a quick ‘no’ against your skin, but Patrick didn’t even move to speak, only shaking his head ‘no’ as he continued to mouth at your hard nipples.

Patrick pulled away, taking a second to watch the way his best friend sucked at your neck, sure to leave a spot. Call him a cuck, but he felt harder than he’d ever been.

Nestling in behind you, he pulled you in away from Art so you were leaning against his bare chest. He dragged his hands up your waist to your tits, massaging them while placing little kisses along your shoulders. “C’mere Art…” he beckoned. Patrick’s big hands reached down, spreading your legs and holding them open.

Art practically scrambled up to you, a hopeless look in his heavily lidded eyes. You’d lost your shirt long ago, now only in a pair of lacy (soaked) panties.

He pulled them to the side, running a finger through your folds. His fingers were cold causing you to inhale a sharp breath. “Fuck…” he sighed, looking over your shoulder at Patrick. “She’s perfect.” Art slipped your panties down your legs, you helping a bit to kick them off your ankles, and pocketed them, not missing Patrick’s look of impressed approval. He leaned down, then, his fingers returning to your slick heat. He prodded at your hole, pushing one, then two fingers in, the feeling of you tightening around him sending a rush to his cock. He pumped in and out at a rapid pace, making your chest heave and your eyes flutter shut.

He leaned in closer to you, tonguing at your clit, absolutely obsessed with the way you were moaning with your head settled back against Patrick’s shoulder. He licked thick stripes along your pussy, fingers so deep inside you that it was hard to keep your legs spread, squirming and whimpering like a mess. “Fuck, Art… t- too much. M’ gonna… fuck, gonna cum.” That only encouraged him, pressing his face into you with so much dedication. You could feel his nose rub against you as he tongued around your hole, still filled by his fingers. Your hands tangled in his hair while Patrick kissed your neck feverishly, still holding your legs open for Art.

When you came, it was ecstasy. You felt like you were melting into Patrick as you leaned back into him, hips bucking up against Art’s face. Your legs were shaking as Art pulled his fingers out, still sloppily licking into you.

“Okay man, don’t get greedy,” Patrick murmured, pushing Art’s head away boyishly and pulling you up to sit up a little more. You giggled, still a little blissed out but wanting more, wanting to impress them.

“Here,” you started, moving onto all fours. “Let me return the favor.” Art was now in front of you, hard as a rock, while Patrick was left behind you, staring at your glistening pussy. You arched your back a little, ass in the air as you looked back at Patrick. “Well don’t just stand there…”

Patrick found his place behind you, the sound of his zipper coming down music to your ears as you worked on ridding Art of his pants. When you looked up at him, he was blushing, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol doing it to him or the situation at hand. He let out a shuttered breath when you slid his boxers down, his length slapping up against his stomach.

You bit you lip, eyeing his cock and noting the way his tip was pink and leaking precum. "Artie," you say, looking up at him doe eyed as if you weren't about to get spitroasted by two best friends.

"Y- yeah..." he replied, looking down at you pathetically, mouth hanging open as he waited for your reply.

"It's really pretty," you lilt before licking from the base to the tip. His eyes screw shut immediately and he makes a sound unlike any you'd heard before.

Patrick, clearly over the praise for Art, though, thrusts into you with no warning, bottoming out quickly and leaving you gasping for air. "Fuck, warn a girl next time..." you sigh as he stills, the feeling of being completely full overwhelming, but exciting.

"I'm so good I need a warning? I haven't even started moving, babe." Patrick speaks with a mocking tone, but you eat it up. Art, feeling left out then, reaches for your jaw, guiding your lips to his cock again. Everything he does, he does with a gentle, polite sort of touch, and you can admire that, especially when it's so starkly contrasted by Patrick.

When you finally take Art into your mouth, it's hard to miss the way his abs ripple while his cock twitches. You could tell he was long when you looked at it, but you realize just how long when his tip is forcing itself against your throat.

Unbeknownst to you, the two boys exchange looks, Patrick mouthing a '3...2....1' before they both started moving in tandem. Patrick's pace was quick and you could feel just how big he was by the stretch. Art, as if he wanted to outdo his friend, was now uncharacteristically bullying his cock down your throat. Though in true Art fashion, he combed a hand through your hair slowly, sweetly, as if he wasn't practically defiling you.

You couldn't help but gag, the sound only encouraging the two men. "She's so tight, man. You've gotta feel her pussy," Patrick huffed.

"You...were...right..." Art panted, lost in the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. "It's like she was made for this..." He almost felt guilty for being so crass... almost. But he was nothing if not easily influenced by his friend.

"Oh- she definitely liked that," Patrick slurs. "She's squeezing me so tight man -fuck." His hands were firmly holding your hips in place as the sound of skin slapping filled the room, his pace unrelenting.

And with each thrust from Patrick, you only pushed further down onto Art, now a drooling, gagging mess beneath him. You could hardly tell now, unable to focus in light of the mess being made of you, but Art kept a hand holding your jaw, caressing it even, as if to silently say 'good girl'.

Noticing your squirming, Patrick knew you were close. He reached a hand around to your clit, thumbing at it in swift circles and grunting like a mad man when you tightened around him. "Fuck, you like that baby? I know you're close... shit- I can feel it."

With Art still stuffing your mouth, all you could do was nod rapidly, pushing back onto Patrick now. Feeling him hit that spot over and over again, you lost yourself a bit, legs getting shaky as you moaned and whined around Art's cock. And then it snapped, that tight feeling in your stomach released as you came hard around Patrick's cock.

Patrick, reveling in the feeling, kept thrusting in and out, each thrust getting sloppier and more shallow. "Shit, don't worry babe," he breathed out heavily. "I'll -fuck- I'll pull out." But right as he moved to do so, you pulled off of Art abruptly, turning to face Patrick shaking your head. Your lips were swollen and glimmering as you shook your head desperately at Patrick.

"I'm on the pill," is all you said, turning back to Art then. You kissed at his tip before taking him back, deep down into your throat. When Patrick pushed back in, it was like the first time again. In pulling out for even a few seconds, he'd forgotten how good you felt, how tight and warm and wet you were.

And when Patrick's hips began to stutter, the feeling of him completely overstimulating you, he made sure to look Art right in the eyes. "Fuck," he gasped, staring right at his flushed, sweating friend as he came inside you, filling you up.

The image of Patrick, jaw slack and making eye contact, drove Art over the edge. Without any sort of warning, you could suddenly feel hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. He pulled out a bit prematurely, some of his cum spurting onto your lips too, but you made sure to look up at him and lick it up like a champ.

"Holy shit..." he mumbled.

"Holy indeed..." Patrick hummed, pulling out and settling on the bed behind you.

Once you were cleaned up, the three of you nestled into bed, you drifting off in their arms quickly, completely spent from the night's activities. Before either boy could fall asleep, though, Patrick startled Art by ruffling a hand through his hair.

"What's that for," Art asked, bewildered.

"I told you St. Patrick would deliver."

[fearlesschimera]

Can I just start by saying WOW?🥹 Once again, what a roller coaster for my feelings, friend😭😭 I loved this chapter from beginning to end🥺♥️♥️

Roman terrorizing the poor nurses at the hospital is exactly what I was waiting for since the last chapter 😂😂 I was sure he would be a nightmare for whoever had the LUCKY pleasure of having him as a patient😂

I was worried that Solana might have some sort of regret for her actions, but I’m glad she doesn’t. I love this new side of her, especially the fact that she knows who she is—she knows her rightful place as the Tribal Chief's wife. It’s such a powerful thing, and I love that for her!

And something else I freaking loved was how much she resembled Roman in the way she took care of everything while he was recovering—she became him, in a way. The fact that she has a relationship with both Dwayne and Matteo, not just by extension, but on her own... and even has a secret handshake with them 😂

She handled business with the freaking cartel on her own, just like her husband would. She took care of her unborn twins, made sure her husband received the best possible care, came up with a plan so they could disappear for the moment... she is POWERFUL in her own Solana way, and that's so cool!♥️

But in all this mess, I don’t think she has taken the proper time to process everything that happened to her, because she was too focused on Roman, or Emma, Brandi, Rikishi, Jey, Samantha, escaping, staying alive... it’s too much. She’s used to pain, but it’s still too much!

And the same goes for Roman—he’s been through a lot, and for someone like him, it’s even more difficult because he tends to be more closed off, despite the improvements thanks to Solana and Lita as well!

And this separation is not what they need right now. In most cases, codependence isn’t good, but for them, it works—and that’s why this is going to be hell for both of them.

But why do I have the feeling that it’s going to be much worse for him? I think he’s going to miss Solana so much... too much. And this distance will unleash hell on earth—I’m sure of it!

The goodbye scene made me sob like a baby, it was heartbreaking💔 But I understand his decision; even if it’s painful, it’s the right thing. Still, I hope they’ll be together soon, friend 🥺😭

One last thing, but definitely not the least... I’m happy Jey is alive🥺 I can’t be fully mad at him🥺 I’m very sad about Nikki—she didn’t deserve to die for nothing.

I’m really curious to see what Roman is going to decide about him and what’s going to happen with poor Jimmy 🥺🥺

I’m so sorry for this VERY long comment, but I needed to say a few things, friend... as you can see 😂♥️

looking through your eyes + thirty seven

authors note: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

massive thank you to the lovely @proceduralpassion for assisting me with the medical logistics and jargon for this one! ❤️

warnings: angst

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

chapter song inspo: 'photograph' by ed sheeran

***gif credit goes to @romanreigns ***

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 15k

Loving can heal Loving can mend your soul

-----

Roman doesn’t like hospitals. 

Never has. 

For obvious reasons.

But, what he hates more than most things, of all things, is being out of control.

Being out of the loop.

Not knowing what’s going on.

And Roman very much has little idea just what the hell is going on.

It takes him a few seconds—much too long—to orient himself to his environment. A room. A hospital room. Large window to the left of him, blinds partially open, allowing slivers of light to shine though, indicating it’s daytime. A TV anchored on the wall in front of him playing what looks like a soap opera of some sorts, though even with the low volume, he can tell it’s not in English.

It’s in Spanish. 

Turning to his head from left to right reveals two things, one of them being his body is sore as shit, his left shoulder in a sling, and the second being that he’s hooked up to machines, an IV in his right arm.

It’s that single movement that allows the memories to start trickling in.

Single notes of recollection.

Betrayal. 

Rescue.

Solana.

The last one is enough to force Roman to bypass his physical pain as he sits up with a newfound sense of urgency.

And anger.

Where the fuck is his wife?

A call button is a waste of fucking time, and he has no intentions on using it. He has to find her himself. Roman is gathering and quickly brainstorming a way to unplug all these annoying fucking things hooked up to him when he hears footsteps. Head snapping, he’s met with a smiling young woman, dressed in scrubs.

“You’re awake,” she greets, her accent thick and Central American sounding. “How do you—”

“Where’s my wife?”

Straight to the point. Harsh.

She falters with a response. “Sir, I—”

“Answer the fucking question,” Roman sneers, because he doesn’t have time for the shit. He needs to know where Solana is, and he needs to know now. 

“Mr. Reigns, please just calm down—” 

“WHERE IS SHE!”

The woman jumps back, calling out something in Spanish. Roman ignores her, ready to rip the anchors off that prevent him from seeing the one and only person he wants to see right now. The person he needs to see. 

However, as a number of other nurses, medical professionals fill the room, Roman finds himself escalating from angry to furious. They’re trying to restrain him.

Him.

Male nurses, or security, not that it makes a fucking difference, have the audacity to try to hold him down.

Even with his limited strength, it doesn’t take much for the incensed Tribal Chief to shove them away. To get them the fuck off and away from him.

Someone shouts something in Spanish, Roman catching a needle out the corner of his eye. He’s fully prepared to knock it away, recognizing it’s most likely a sedative of some sorts. 

But, he doesn’t have to. 

“Hey!”

A voice he could pick out in even the largest, most boisterous crowd.

Solana

She shoves her way past the group, barking something in Spanish that forces them all to disperse like she’d splashed them with something scalding and burning. And maybe she had with whatever she said.

She switches back to English, informing with a sense of irritation, “he’s looking for me.”

Always.

But, just as quickly as she was scowling, her gaze shifts to something else entirely. Warm, comforting, and loving.

“I’m right here,” she murmurs, coming and sitting on the side of his bed. Roman’s eyes shut naturally the minute she reaches to cup his face, fingers gently pushing back some of his hair. “I’m here, mi amor. It’s okay.”

Solana says something else in Spanish that causes the staff to leave, the door closing of the door signifying the unwanted parties have all departed.

It’s just them.

“Sol….”

“I’m okay, Roman,” she says it again, somehow, someway already knowing it’s what he needs. Part of what he needs. But, the partial adjective is only temporarily applicable as she brings his hand to her stomach. He opens his eyes. “We’re okay.”

There’s something immensely healing about those two words. Something heavily and highly relieving. A tightness in Roman’s chest he didn’t realize he was experiencing instantly diminished. 

“I had to get stitches in the back of my head, and my pressure was a little high, but it’s stabilized now, and that was expected given…..” She trails off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. The girls are fine.” A small, sad smile on her face. “Their heartbeats still nice and strong.”

More relieving, comforting information as Roman allows himself to take in his wife’s appearance. She’s wearing a white flowy dress, sleeveless, cleavage slightly on display. Her hair is pulled up and back with a clip, highlighting her face that’s bare of makeup. The scar across her left eye has never been something he’s ever really paid much attention to, never taken away from her ethereal beauty, but the bruise and slight cuts on her face do. They remind him of just what happened.

“Solana—”

“Not right now,” she dismisses. Solana continues to push back his hair, fingers traveling and massaging his scalp. “Your recovery is what matters most right now. We can….we can discuss other things later.”

It doesn’t necessarily align with what they’d previously agreed on as a couple. Not pushing off needed and required conversations, though Roman can understand why, in this particular instance, she’s preferring to wait.

This conversation is much bigger than anything they ever had. 

The sound of the TV serving as background noise returns to audible territory, as Roman also considers the way Solana spoke in Spanish to the medical staff she forced out. 

The way majority of them seemed to speak Spanish.

Curious, he asks, “where am I?”

She answers in Spanish. He only makes out a single word that sounded a lot like ‘hospital.’ “Mexico.” Roman doesn't have much of a reaction to that. He’d started to put two and two together. Just needed her to confirm as such. “After they….” She trails off, eventually clearing her throat. “Roman….”

He studies her, sensing there’s something she’s not saying. “What?”

Solana drops her hand to his, pressing her lips together before taking a deep breath. “Everyone thinks we’re dead.”

And, the surprises just keep on coming. "What?"

She sighs, clearly ready and willing to explain what's objectively a wild ass response when another voice interrupts.

“It’s part of the plan." Roman looks past Solana to see none other than his older cousin, Dwayne. And he's not alone. Matteo stands beside him, both dressed almost casually with slack pants and short sleeved shirts. Minimal cuts on their faces but nothing outside the norm.

Dwayne smirks, as the two men walk into the room. “Not even up for a good ten minutes, and you’re already causing a scene.”

Roman chuckles, seeing the small smile on his wife's face. "You know I don't like being kept out of the loop."

"Maybe you shouldn't have slept so long." Matteo's voice is both serious and teasing, a playful gleam in his eyes as he easily melts back into business mode. "To the world, you bled out on the operating table, dying from injuries sustained during the rescue mission."

"And Solana," Dwayne takes over, the faintest hint of regret in his voice. Performative. "—passed away due to injuries sustained from her torture while in captivity."

Chilling words that create a grisly mental image. Roman has to push that scary alternative from his mind. The alternative to how this all could have turned out.

"Once they got you stable enough, we transferred you here to avoid detection of the truth," Matteo explains, motioning to Solana. "That part was actually Solana's idea."

Roman looks over at his wife, partially surprised, though he shouldn't be. He knows Solana can be insecure at times about not having an education beyond high school, but that doesn't mean shit, because she's easily one of the smartest people he's ever met.

"Yeah?"

She nods, looking back over at the other two men. "After they told me about the….help from…from the Cartel, I just figured…" She trails off, changing the subject a little bit. "We can talk about that later. You need to focus on recovering." She brings her hand to his forehead, as if checking his temperature. "How are you feeling?" She doesn't wait for a response, easily shifting back into caretaker mode. "You need to let the doctor examine—"

"I'm fine, Sol." Roman dismisses, prompting a snort from Dwayne's melon head ass.

"Says the man laid up in a hospital bed."

Solana rolls her eyes. A playful thing. She then gently points out, "it's only been two days."

At that, Roman stills. He's been out for two whole days?

His surprise must be visible, prompting Solana to share in a quiet voice. "You lost a lot of blood, Ro."

"And you had to have surgery to remove the bullet," Matteo shares. "And a laparotomy for where you were stabbed."

Roman makes a quiet sound. That explains the discomfort in his abdomen and why his shoulder is fucking throbbing and in this goddamn sling. The last time he had to have a bullet surgically removed, he was almost twenty years younger.

Thus, he'd forgotten how annoying the aftermath portion is.

Solana suddenly moves to stand up from the bed, Roman unable to miss the way her dress falls against her stomach, showcasing her bump. It might be whatever meds he's on, but he can almost swear it looks more pronounced than he remembers.

"I know you guys need to talk, and I have somewhere to be anyway."

At that, the attention is refocused from her baby bump to what she just said. "Somewhere to be?" Roman sits up a bit in bed, gritting from the sharp pain that shoots through his body.

"Careful," Solana cautions, moving back to his side. One hand is on his forearm, the other back on his forehead, as if checking for his temperature again. "You have stitches."

"Where are you going?"

Solana sighs and answers his question while also not answering his question. "I'm not leaving the hospital. Just….going to the chapel."

The chapel? Roman is even more confused than he was before, though confusion is easily outweighed by concern. There's a certain something that fills his chest at the thought of her leaving again, at being out of his watchful eye.

Like, he's scared for her to leave his side.

And in some ways….he just might be.

"Solana, what's going on?"

She continues to look unsure of how to respond, and he's not exactly sure why, because he all he wants is the truth.

"Domingo Lopez has…..requested a meeting."

At that, Roman closes his eyes.

This….this is why he can't be out of commission for too long. Cause, it's always something.

"Why the fuck didn't ya'll say anything sooner?" He tries to shift again, forcing Solana's hand back down to her side. "What time—"

"Roman," Matteo interrupts, arms crossed, expression even. "It wasn't for you."

Roman frowns. "What?" This shit keeps getting weirder, or either these meds are fucking with his mental. "Then wh—"

"Me," Solana supplies, forcing her husband's gaze on her. "He wants to meet with me. Him and his wife."

"By yourself?" Roman can't even focus on the shock of that plot twist. He's too stuck on the fact this wife is about to meet with one of the dangerous men in this side of the modern world. Alone. "Hell n—"

"Ro," she interrupts, sighing before attempting to explain. "From what I hear….this man is on our side. He helped us. He helped you." Roman has nothing to say to that, because there's nothing to say. Solana is right. That's not surprising though. She usually is. "He means us no harm. If that were the case, he wouldn't still be helping us."

Dwayne offers an explanation for the question Roman doesn't even get a chance to ask. "There's no one on this floor but you, brotha'. And Lopez must have men patrolling the floor, hospital, and hell, probably up the street and round the corner, too."

Roman would love to find a reason to find argument and protest, to point out a flaw in said explanation but none can really be found. Dwayne's information adds another tally to Solana's growing reasons why there's no objectively good reason why she can't attend this meeting on her own.

No danger appears to be present.

But, Roman also believed before that no danger was present, and look where it got him.

"I'll be fine, Roman," she reminds, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "I promise."

She steps back and cups his cheek at the same time a knock on the door pulls Roman from the moment, forces his defenses to go back up. Except, they're only slightly lowered when he sees it's a woman.

Dressed almost casually, it's clear she's not a nurse or anyone on the medical staff at the hospital. That's confirmed merely by the fact that there's a gun on her hip, secured in a holster. However, that also immediately raises his defenses.

Especially when he sees she's looking directly at Solana. She says something in Spanish, short and brief.

Solana nods, replying in the same language, prompting the nameless woman to nod, hands behind her, standing at attention almost.

"That's Stephanie," Solana offers, already knowing her husband continues to be full of question. "She's been….assigned to me while you've been recovering."

It's easy enough for the Tribal Chief to read behind the lines. A personal guard. This Stephanie person has been assigned as Solana's personal guard.

From the Gulf Cartel.

"I won't be long," Solana reiterates once more, gently squeezing his hand before walking away. It's not missed upon Roman how his wife shares some sort of secret handshake type shit with both Dwayne and Matteo as she departs, the later saying something to her in Spanish that has her giggling.

What the….fuck?

Just how long has he been out?

---------

Solana wasn't nervous when she was informed Domingo Lopez and his wife wanted to meet and talk with her.

She wasn't nervous, because it was hard to be nervous about meeting the man who, in a lot of ways, saved her life.

Saved Roman's life.

Because in the two days that have passed since the daunting rescue mission, she's learned a lot. Learned how the leader of the biggest and oldest crime syndicate in Mexico happens to be the father of the sweet little girl she befriended all those months ago.

Aurora. Aurora Lopez happens to be the daughter of Domingo Lopez, a man who, she's also learned, seems to think very highly of her. Believed he owed her a debt for her act of kindness towards his little girl.

A small, insignificant thing that may have saved everything Solana has worked so hard to build.

His assistance. The men. The manpower. The protection. It's all so overwhelming and unexpected, so to deny him a simple meeting seemed wrong almost.

Because, the way she sees it, Solana now owes him a debt she's not sure can ever be repaid.

Dwayne and Matteo had been wise to request medevacs, two in particular, wisely anticipating serious to grave injuries. And that's exactly what Roman had experienced. She tries not to think too much about the way the doctor essentially confirmed if not for the air ambulance transporting him to the ICU in the time that they did, he would have bled out, as he'd been stabbed right where a large artery sits.

Roman would have died.

And, that's something she can't think about.

But, she can think about the man who allowed those preparations to be a reality.

And that man is Domingo Lopez.

Solana walks into the chapel, partially surprised to see them already there and waiting. A man and woman. One she recognizes from a prior meeting. The other doesn't really need an introduction.

Elena stands, a warm smile on her face. "Solana." Solana is partially taken back when the woman initiates a hug, but it doesn't take long for her to reciprocate it. "I'm so happy you're okay."

Solana closes her eyes.

So is she.

Elena pulls back, only to look down. She gasps quietly, looking back up. "You're pregnant?"

Solana nods with a small smile. "I am."

Apprehension crosses her face. "Is he or she…."

"They're okay," Solana answers. "Twins."

Elena gasps again, taking Solana's hand and gently squeezing it. "Congratulations."

Naturally, Solana's free hand falls to her baby bump. "Thank you."

It's a strange, somewhat unfamiliar thing. Not even a full three days ago, Solana's prayer was that she could manage to keep her pregnancy a secret from all until Roman could rescue her or she could escape.

Now, she finds herself sharing it with a woman she's only met once before and a man who she's only meeting for the first time but one she owes so much to.

Life is so strange sometimes.

Domingo stands up, coming to stand beside his wife. He offers his hand. "Solana, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Solana swallows, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Nevertheless, she powers through, accepting his handshake. "I—I don't know what to say." Because, she really doesn't. "Thank you seems too….too insignificant."

It does. Though any other similar word also feels not strong enough for the depth of her gratitude.

He, however, protests. "That's unnecessary."

She shakes her head, lightly protesting. "You helped save my family's life….that's far from unnecessary."

Domingo says nothing, just motions for her to sit down on the first set of pews directly in front of the alter. Solana takes the one on the right, while Domingo and Elena sit on the pew opposite her.

"I take it your recovery continues to go well." It's a statement that's more so conveyed as a question.

"Yes," Solana answers, pushing back some of her hair. "Thankfully, I—I didn't have many injuries." A blessing, truly, because what scared Solana the most as she received medical treatment was the moment the transducer was placed on her stomach to check on them.

To check on her babies.

True fear has never been experienced like in the moments where it was silent, the strange almost beeping sounds she always heard at her check-up appointments non-existent.

Easily, one of the scariest moments of her life.

And, then she heard it.

The first heartbeat. Not even a full minute later, the second heartbeat.

Just as strong as every other time.

That was the first time Solana broke down. That she sobbed, overcome with all the emotions. Filled to the brim with the feels that accompanied her kidnapping, holding Roman and begging him to cling to life, not knowing if he could, and finally, knowing that she'd been successful.

She's protected her girls.

She'd saved them.

A few crying sessions have happened since, lingering feelings following an undeniably traumatic event but nothing major. Nothing that has her feeling on the edge, and Lord knows she's felt as such before.

"And, I hear that husband of yours is also awake."

A great sense of pride and relief fills her at that. "He is." She doesn't offer anything more, not knowing just how much Roman would like disclosed about his personal recovery.

"That's good," Domingo nods, taking a noticeable pause. "I suppose…I suppose you're wondering why I've asked to meet with you." He gestures between himself and his wife. "Why we have asked to meet with you."

Solana does her best to remain visibly undeterred by him sharing that previously unknown piece of information. She didn't know Elena also wanted to meet with her.

"Yes." That's all she says. All she offers. All she knows how to say.

Elena takes over. "Aurora, our daughter, as I told you before, she really does like you and….and she talks to you." There's an undeniable sadness in her eyes. "More…more than she talks to us."

"The journal you gave her helps a lot. Helps out a tremendous amount," Domingo shares. "She….she will bring it to us and let us read it sometimes if she wants us to know something."

Elena looks down, playing with her fingers. "That….that's how we found out about….her struggles."

Solana frowns. "Struggles?" She recalls her abuela mentioning Aurora's parents argued a lot and that impacted her, as it would any child, but Solana has the sense that's not what Elena is referring to.

Elena continues, her voice softer than it's been the entire conversation. "Aurora was….she was having thoughts about wanting to hurt herself."

Solana's stomach drops. "What?"

Of all the struggles that could be happening, that was certainly the last on her list.

"She thought….she thought if she was dead, Elena and I would be happier. That we….we wouldn't argue as much." Domingo continues, hurt evident in his brown eyes. "Ever since then, we've been really good about not arguing in front of her, spending more time with her, and making sure she knows how much we love her."

It's a heartbreaking thing to hear. While Solana is pleased to hear Aurora's parents are taking her suicidal ideation seriously, it also devastates her to see another little girl go through the same thing she did.

Crushing.

"We have found her a therapist, and she seems to like her well enough," Elena supplies, her voice filled with a small hint of hopefulness. "But, Aurora really seems to trust and open up with you." She looks at her husband before focusing back on Solana. "We….we want her to have someone she can talk to, even if it's not us."

And just like that, without it even being asked directly, Solana knows why they requested this meeting. Why they wanted to speak to her. What they're asking of her.

Domingo must see it too. "We don't expect you to share anything with us," he clarifies. "It wouldn't be fair to put you in that position or make Aurora feel like you're reporting back to us." He pauses for a second. "We just want her to have support and be able to confide in the safe right people."

"A mentor," Elena finally provides the word Solana was thinking. They want her to mentor Aurora. "And, I know it won't be conventional, because you live in America, and we live here, but she has a phone and—and an iPad, and we've even discussed visiting America at one point, so maybe…."

She trails off as Domingo motions to Solana's stomach. "I recognize you and Roman will be busy preparing for the birth of your children, but if you would consider—"

"I want to ask you something."

Domingo gives her a pointed look. In some ways, he reminds her of Roman. Offering and showing just what he wants her to know. Nothing more. A smart business tactic, that, just like her husband, has taken him far.

Obviously.

"Not….not to cut you off, because I deeply appreciate you sharing this with me, but I also….I also have something to ask of you."

The timing feels so off, Solana thought about possible ways to bring it up, how to go about it and whatnot. The certainly feels like not the best way, but it's also, for whatever reason, feels like the right time to say it.

Like a gut feeling.

She just prays her gut isn't wrong.

He finally asks, clearly wanting to ensure accurate, proper understanding. "So, if I say yes to whatever this request is, you'll help Aurora?"

"No," Solana answers immediately. "I'll help her no matter what your answer is."

A floored look from both husband and wife. It prompts her to elaborate.

"Because that's who I am." Solana answers in a small yet powerful voice. One hand on her stomach, she continues, speaking from the heart. "I helped Aurora before because I wanted to. Because I saw a lot of myself in her. And sadly…." Solana shares her inner wrists where faded but visible scars remain. "She's a lot more like me than I realized."

Truth be told, the minute they started to disclose some of Aurora's struggles, Solana was devising ways to help the little girl. Before she even knew that's exactly what her parents were wanting.

So, regardless of what the response is to her request, Solana's answer remains the same.

Yes.

Solana brings her hands back to her lap, reorienting to the conversation as Elena responds in a soft voice. "I understand." She swallows, asking on behalf of her husband. "What is your request?"

A deep breath is taken as Solana straightens her posture, falling into that assertive, professional space. "I plan to open up a domestic violence shelter back home. A place….a refuge for women and children seeking sanctuary from dangerous situations." Solana's gaze drops as done her tone just an octave. "My….mother was killed trying to get us out of that situation, and I…." She swallows. "It's an important cause to me, and I—I have to do it. For her, and for all the other women and children out there that I used to be."

With no objection or question posed, Solana transitions to the portion that specifically regards the couple across from her. "My mother was Mexican. Isla Mujeres was her home. My abuela still lives there." Hand to her belly, a small smile on her face, she shares, "I intend for my girls to have roots there as well, which is why I want to also build a shelter there."

Solana shifts in her seat, offering additional information. "Roman has pledged Bloodline support and financial backing for the one I want to build back home." Naive or not, Solana, despite what has happened, has very little concern that the empire her husband has built up and led over the years won't back out. That the kinks this attempted coup created won't be ironed out by the time she's ready to officially start this project. "But, the one here…."

Another deep breath followed by the plot point. "I don't need financial support, but the shelter will need protection."

Recognition dawns in Domingo's eyes. "You want the Gulf Cartel to provide that protection."

Not a hint of stuttering or stammering. "Yes."

Solana worked hard over her proposal, over how she planned to present her very big ask of this man. Perhaps too big of an ask considering everything he's already done. Already provided. For a brief second, she wonders if she's gone too far. If she's overstepped.

It creates a newfound sense of anxiety.

She opens her mouth, unsure of just how, but planning to backtrack slightly. Or, maybe to just let him know that focusing on her pregnancy is the priority, along with getting enrolled in school, and the building of her and Roman's house.

To tell him that an answer isn't necessarily needed right now.

But, she doesn't get the chance.

"Alright."

She stills. "Alright?"

Domingo lifts his chin. "You build your shelter, and the Gulf Cartel will provide you any backing, protection and financial, that you require."

Solana scoffs in disbelief. Her hands go over her mouth as she works to hold back the tears. To remain as professional and collected as possible. For something that came to her out of nowhere, for her to propose it to such a man, such a couple, and for it to be received and accepted? It's….more than she could have imagined and hoped for.

Solana nods and takes a deep breath. "Thank you." For it all. "Thank you so much."

Elena offers a warm smile and nod while Domingo only looks at her, eventually making a sound and sharing. "I like you, Solana." He shifts in his seat. "You tell The Tribal Chief to focus on a speedy recovery and not to worry too much about that meeting we intend to have. It'll all be formalities anyway." Solana works hard to maintain a neutral expression, though she's filled with some questions regarding his words. He chuckles, studying her with what almost looks like admiration. "Reigns has got one hell of a woman standing beside him."

---------

A couple days later following that meeting with Domingo and Lopez, Solana finds herself in another one of sorts. But, with family this time. And, in a cleared out hospital cafeteria versus the chapel.

Afia's smile is broad and genuine. Her hand on Solana's stomach moving around freely with a sense of awe. "I told you the bump would just appear one day and just keep growing and growing."

Truer words have never been spoken.

Solana continues to find herself filled with amazement every day she wakes up and notices just the slightest of changes with her bump. The way each morning seems to greet her with something new. Before, it was just slightly noticeable, but as the days past, she finds that deepening and increasing. The swell and roundness increasing.

It fills her with such joy.

"I still can't believe you're actually pregnant," Bayley chimes, a look of disbelief on her face as she also reaches over to feel on Solana's baby bump.

"I'm sorry I kept it from you," Solana finds herself apologizing. Having Bayley find out the way she did, feeling Solana's bump as they embraced tightly while being reunited at the hospital back home couldn't be farther away from how she wanted to break the news to her.

To everyone.

"We just….it was a safety thing, but we also had a scare—"

"Solana," Bayley interrupts. "It's okay. I understand."

Solana studies her expression, waiting and watching for any indication otherwise. She finds none.

It's so deeply appreciated.

All of it.

"I—" Solana finds herself struggling to verbalize what she hasn't necessarily had the time or mental space to express. To share. "It means….I don't think I can ever thank you both enough for what you did."

Because while Solana's head has been so many different places since everything went down, and she's felt like, knows that she hasn't had time to really process everything, one thing that cannot be denied is how these women showed up.

So many people did, and Solana fully intends to have everyone over at the house as a sort of celebration when the dust settles, but until then, all she can do is verbally express her undying gratitude.

"You both risked your lives…" Solana trails off, the emotion building. What occurred was more than enough to evoke strong emotions, but the added layer of pregnancy hormones have most definitely made Solana just a bit more sensitive to a lot of things lately. Especially this. "And, I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to," is Afia's soft dismissal. "You're my family, Solana, and I know that must be a sensitive subject given what occurred, but my definition of family equates loyalty."

"Exactly," Bayley agrees, reaching to take Solana's hand in hers. "There was no way in hell we weren't going to help get you back."

Solana swallows. It's so overwhelming in the best sort of way. To know so many people came together, came to help Roman, to help her. To save her. Not even taking a second to consider it. Consider the dangers.

It's baffling and almost unreal how in under a year she's gone from feeling and being alone to having a mountain of support behind her.

A family.

But, as moving as the thought is, something else comes to mind. Something Solana has thought about since their arrival in Mexico City.

Naomi and Jimmy.

From what she's heard from both of the women across from her, as well as Dwayne and Matteo, they weren't involved. Had no idea what was being planned until the attack at the library.

Innocent.

They're innocent.

But, as much as Solana would like to say that grants her a tremendous amount of comfort, it doesn't. There's some solace to be found, but it's outweighed by the concern and anxiety. The unknown of what happens now.

Because, while they had nothing to do with what happened, they, more Jimmy than anything, are so close to it. It was Jimmy's immediate family that tried to kill her.

Tried to kill Roman.

Her chest tightens ever so slightly.

They haven't had much time to talk about it, what with Solana wanting her husband to focus on his physical recovery, but she's so lost as to what that especially is going to look like.

Jimmy is innocent. So is Naomi, but how will her husband ever learn to separate them from what occurred? All that hurt. All that betrayal. The trauma.

Not to mention how the other side will feel.

Will Jimmy even want to continue a relationship with the people who are partially responsible for the death of his immediate family members?

How does that even work?

Will it work?

"I'm sorry you're in the middle of this," Solana finds herself apologizing directly to her cousin. "I….I hate that you are."

She truly does. Naomi and Bianca have been best friends for years. Since high school, and to suddenly be in a position where she's lying and keeping secrets from someone who's also like a sister. Solana hates it.

She really fucking hates it.

Bayley's flash with something akin to hurt. "It's not your fault, Solana."

"I know it isn't," she frowns. "But, I still…." She sighs, leaning back in the chair, hand to her belly. "I want to make things right….we have to."

What exactly that entails, Solana isn't sure. She just knows that there's one bumpy ass road ahead, not even including the massive hill that is Roman's to process and work through.

She knows this whole thing has fucked with him in so many ways. Reverted him back in others, and if there was any doubt about that, or just how much it's messed with him, it was squashed last night.

And the night before that.

The reason, reasons, that despite his protest, she's stayed overnight with him in the hospital.

He doesn't need to be alone. That much….that much she knows for certain.

"And, we will," Afia's confident assertion pulls Solana from dark and heavy thoughts. She reaches for both her and Bayley's hand, nodding with all the assurance. "Together."

----------

Leaving her meeting with Afia and Bayley to return to Roman's hospital room, Solana expects to be met with the usual. Medical staff passing by offering small smiles, an occasional verbal greeting, and armed guards who stand at attention at all times.

The usual.

What she doesn't except, however, is the sight that meets her. A few feet away from his room, a frown falls on Solana's face when she sees the nurse exiting said room with tears spilling down and a scowl on her face.

Also frowning, Solana jogs over to the woman, managing to catch her attention. "What's wrong?"

Solana speaks in Spanish, recognizing it's a bit easier for most.

The woman shakes her head. "'He fired me."

At that, Solana's jaw drops. "He what?"

She scoffs, apologizing, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Reigns, but your husband is…." She trails off, not finishing her sentence, instead offering. "I'll alert the charge nurse a new nurse needs to be assigned to him."

"Wait," Solana is unable to finish her sentence, the woman walking off. Blowing out a breath, Solana curses quietly to herself and marches into the room. "Roman, what did you do now?"

He's sitting in the hospital bed looking just as miserable and irritated as he looked when she left him a little over an hour ago. "She sucked. Kept fucking bothering me. I told her to get the fuck out."

She closes her eyes.

This man…

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you causing a scene. You're like a petulant child sometimes, I swear—" Solana stops herself mid rant in Spanish. One of many she's had to give this grown ass man during his not-even-that-long stint here. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, switching back to English, voice almost coaxing. Like talking to a child. "Baby….she was doing her job." Because, she has no doubt that poor woman was just doing rounds. "That was the fourth nurse you've ran off in the past two days, Roman."

"They should hire better nurses then." Is his haughty argument, as he doubles down on his one star rating. "The care here sucks."

Solana tilts her head back, calling on the Lord for His continued patience. "Roman, Médica Sur is the best hospital in all of Mexico. It doesn't get better than this."

Truthfully. Honestly. The care team here, despite her husband's beliefs, have been nothing but stellar offering him only the best of treatment despite him 1000% not reciprocating it in any way.

Love him or not, Solana prays that when she finally finishes school and enters the nursing field, she never has a patient like her husband.

Ever.

Of course, her words go in one ear and out the other. "Then they should up their fucking standards."

Solana blows out a deep breath and says nothing. She loves her husband more than anything, but he can be impossible at times. Walking over, she checks his IV bag seeing that it's full. She sighs, "at least you let her change it out for you."

"She sucked at that, too. I don't want anymore fucking medication," he complains as Solana circles his bed and sits down on his right side. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"I know, Roman, but…" She takes his hand, bringing it to her mouth for a soft kiss. "Just a couple more days." Her gaze falls to his abdomen, curious about the scar that's surely left behind from his laparotomy. She then asks, partially wanting to change the subject, "have Dwayne and Matteo spoken with you about what happens when you're discharged?"

He answers almost quietly. "Yeah."

When he says nothing else, she fills the silence. "So…you know we'll be staying—"

"Yeah."

Nothing else is said, though something else is felt. Solana can't necessarily explain it, but feels like there's an unspoken thing her husband is not sharing. She knows that it was decided she and Roman would stay in Mexico to allow him to continue to recover, as well as continue to allow time to pass for people back home to show true colors as it pertained to the coup and "fall" of the Roman Empire.

Allow the traitors and those who do not need to remain with the Bloodline to be revealed and dealt with appropriately.

Something clearly discussed and he's aware of, but it feels like there's more. Something she's not aware of.

Something he's not telling her.

"Ro—"

"Solana," he cuts her off, and right away, she knows she's in for a difficult conversation. It's the way he's looking away, not focused on her, but his hand remaining locked with hers, his thumb moving over her knuckles. "I need to know what happened in there."

Her chest instantly tightens.

She knows exactly what he's referring to.

It's something she's dreaded from the moment he held her after saving her.

Solana licks her lips. "Roman, I don't think—"

"Sol." He finally looks at her, and one look at him is all Solana needs to fully understand he's not letting it go. "I need to know."

She questions that. Questions if it's truly need. But, regardless of her speculation, one thing they've been trying to do is be honest with each other. Because, nothing good came out of them keeping secrets.

Something she hopes he keeps in mind regarding whatever he's not telling her.

"We…." She closes her eyes, head down. "We were kept in a small room for the most part. Myself and Brandi. They….they kept Emma somewhere else."

Of all the things that Solana has wondered about since everything that went down, one of the things she made sure to inquire about was the safety of those on the right side. Especially Brandi and Emma.

And especially after learning of the explosion that claimed so many lives.

That has destroyed families forever.

A bittersweet thing given Brandi, Emma, and no one on Roman's side/team were among those lives lost, but to the other ones that were lost…

Solana swallows. "Rikishi…he came and talked to me. It was more him gloating and trying to make me feel small and insignificant. He said I was….stupid and uneducated and….other things." Solana shakes her head, a bitter scoff on the tip of her tongue. The same woman who he taunted and mocked cruelly was the same one who causes him to take his last breath. "After that…." It's a difficult task, to say the least. Solana wants to be honest with her husband, but she also knows just why he's asking her this.

"Roman, this wasn't your fault, ba—"

"Tell me."

Him ignoring her isn't entirely surprising. It does hurt a little bit though, for sure.

"Brock was there," she finally decides that ripping the band-aid off is the only way to go. There is no good way to explain this to him. Solana looks down, hating how soft her voice goes. "He—" She takes a deep breath. "He tried to rape me." Forcing herself to power through, Solana looks up, absolutely devastated by the crushed look on Roman's face. She can practically feel his guilt, and it's overwhelming. "So, I killed him."

A calm confession. No stammering. Not stuttering. Just a fact. "I killed him, and then I killed Samantha to protect myself and Emma—"

"Sol—"

"And, I killed Rikishi to protect you—"

"Solana—"

"And, I regret nothing."

At that, Roman stops, his shock and surprised plain and evident.

It's an understandable reaction. One that shocks even her just a little but not entirely. For reasons she's about to share with him.

She licks her lips, recalling a conversation from what feels like forever ago. "I know….I know I told you before that I didn't think that I could live with myself if I took someone's life, but I was wrong." So. So wrong. "Roman…" She moves closer to him on the bed, hand still over his. "I did what I had to do to survive. To protect myself and my family, and there was nothing wrong with that."

His voice is pained and low. "But, Solana, you shouldn't have—"

"I would do it all again if I had to."

A bit of a scary confession, maybe even something cold and unlike her. At least, to him. To her, she was being a wife and a mother. Being a woman whose recognized her power and capabilities.

"I didn't kill anyone who was innocent, who never hurt anybody, who were good people. All three of them were terrible people, and they got exactly what they deserved." A hint of anger appears in her eyes, recalling the way Rikishi taunted her husband as she snuck up on him. The horrific, evil things he said to Roman. It brings tears to her eyes. Not just what was said by him, but what was done. What's all been done. "You didn't deserve this…"

Roman looks away, his jaw clenched. "This isn't about me. This is about you and what they did to you—"

"No, it's not." An easy thing to dismiss and discredit. "They only came after me to hurt you, but they didn't hurt me, my love. I'm fine. The girls are fine. I—" She shakes her head, a sad scoff leaving her mouth. "I've been through a lot worse than this, Roman. I was already raped. I was already attacked and beaten. Almost killed. More than once. The only thing that was different this time was me." She reaches for his face, forcing him to look at her as she gently caresses his bearded cheek. "I'm not that 10 and 12 year-old little girl anymore. Not that same scared, traumatized woman you married." She swallows, asserting with all the authority and confidence that rushes through her veins. "My name is Solana Reigns, wife of the Tribal Chief. The Faletua. And, I'll do anything to protect my family. The people I love. Myself." Always. "And, that's exactly what I did."

Solana knows that while she truly believes what she's saying, feels firm in her beliefs and that she was in the right, there's bound to be some lingering trauma. Things that will stick and stay with her, needing to be worked out in therapy. The senseless murders of Sami and Bautista, for example. Losses she will start to grieve sooner rather than later, but right now, sitting in front of her husband, every word that left her mouth is 1000% true.

She doesn't regret her actions, and she'd damn sure do it all again if she had to. If anything, what currently bothers and concerns her more is the man sitting in front of her.

Roman was doing relatively well working on himself, working on opening up, and now she's terrified all of that progress has been undone by inconceivable betrayal. Not that she can blame him. Solana can't even begin to fathom the full extent of what that must be like for him, what it's done to him.

She's seen only a little, and none of it was pretty.

In the slightest.

Solana can only hope and pray that the damage isn't permanent.

--------

Just as projected by his medical team, and much to the happiness of said medical team—and Roman—he is discharged following a week of care. Truth be told, Solana would have felt a bit more comfortable with him staying a few extra days, but she's also not entirely sure just how much longer the staff would have put up with her husband given his behavior during his stay.

Love him to pieces, Solana can 100% acknowledge Roman has to be the worst patient in the history of patients. If not for her practically forcing him to abide with medical recommendations, she's certain he would have signed an AMA and left the hospital the same day he woke up.

That nickname she overheard used by most of his care team, "El diablo samoano," was definitely well earned and deserved.

She's almost certain she heard celebrations commencing as the elevators started to shut.

Roman is relatively quiet on the jet to Isla Mujeres, save his occasional complaints about certain things, namely still being in "this damn sling." The grumbles are subsided and minimized by Dulce who practically sleeps in his lap the entirety of the two hour trip.

And, he seems to offer no protest, Solana seeing how he uses his free hand to pet and caress their puppy for the same duration.

Something tells her he might have missed her just as much as she's obviously missed him.

The car ride is no different, though her forever perceptive husband, easily picks up on the fact that the ride from the airport to their home is taking a bit longer than usual.

He looks over at her, suspicious of the situation, never her. "Where are we going?"

She squeezes his hand, simply answering, "we're not staying at the main house."

Her wording triggers more questions. "Main house?"

"You'll see." She lifts their conjoined hands, kissing his. "Trust me, mi amor."

It feels like such a huge, strange thing to tell him, especially after what's occurred, but if there's anything she can find comfort in, it's knowing that if there is anyone left in this world that he actually does trust, it's her.

Always her, she prays.

Getting out of the SUV, doors opened by the Cartel escort, Solana holds Dulce under one arm. She looks over to see Roman rounding the vehicle, looking around at the property that is certainly not the one he purchased for her.

"Come on," she says, taking his hand, Dulce still calmly in her other arm.

"Solana…where are we?""

She doesn't respond, instead ignores the group of guards who remain near the car, some spacing out among the property. Property that Solana is eager to show and display to her curious, confused husband.

And, she does.

A nice, beautifully decorated, hacienda styled abode, settled comfortably in land that's at least a mile or two away from the nearest neighbor. A spacious amount of land and greenery, the back of the house a mere matter of steps away from the beach, similar to the home Roman purchased for them.

Guiding them to the back of the house, Solana places Dulce down so she can roam—and possibly pee—while she finally explains it all.

Roman looks at her, finally asking, "is this a Cartel safe house?"

A valid question, especially considering the droves of guards that have practically crowded the two of them from the moment they landed in Mexico.

"No." She shakes her head and takes a deep breath."It's my house."

Roman's eyes widen. "Yours?" She nods, pushing back some of her hair the wind seems hellbent on going everywhere but down, courtesy of the steady breeze. "Solana…what do you mean it's yours? You bought a house?" He looks around, still with that same confused, partially irritated scowl. "Just what the hell all happened while I was in that damn hospital?"

Solana giggles and takes his hand. "I didn't get a chance to tell you…" A trail off largely due to her being unwilling to revisit that memory. "Apparently….this land has been in my family for generations, but it was my abuelo who finally took the steps to build on it." Solana looks at the house, motioning with her free hand. "He built this. He built it with the intentions of passing it on to my….to my mother." Sadness fills her tone and her eyes, Solana's volume dropping a bit. "Obviously….that didn't happen, but abuela has kept it all these years and now…." Solana gives a one shoulder shrug, watery smile on her face. "It's mine."

She then corrects herself, "actually, it's ours." Solana then brings their conjoined hands to her stomach. "We can bring the girls here sometime." She watches as Roman focuses on the breathtaking sight of the waves slapping against the sand. "And the other kids…."

The faintest hint of a smile breaks on his face, and it means more to her than she can put into words.

It's the first time he's smiled, even if small, since everything happened.

Solana moves to press her body against his, hugging him, holding him, lingering just a bit. "Come on." She eventually pulls away, taking his hand and starting to guide him back towards the house, calling for Dulce to follow them.

The inside is just as beautiful as the outside. Warm, cultured themes reflected in not only the design of the home, the architectural base, but the furniture as well, as the home is already fully furnished. A wave of emotion revisits Solana, as she recalls the first time she stepped inside. A tremendous amount of grief and love coming over her and abuela, the two women holding and crying together over shared loss and grief but also the love that came with reunion.

This space may have been meant for her mother, but it was also intended to be passed down. And Solana fully intends to keep that promise, to keep this precious space in her family for generations to come.

Starting with the girls.

Security handled bringing in luggage, so Solana is unsurprised to find it waiting in the living room. Speaking in Spanish, she directs one of the men to move two of the heavier bags to the master bedroom.

Neither herself or her stubborn ass husband need to be lifting on anything heavier than necessary.

Not that he'd agree with her, anyway.

A little later, after reviewing a couple things with Stephanie, Solana finds Roman sitting out back in the patio area.

"Hey…."

It's a bit of a silly thing, the way she almost hovers, as if waiting for permission to join him on the bench. Still, a sense of satisfaction fills her when he motions for her to come closer.

She doesn't hesitate.

Solana is partially appreciative that it's his left arm in a sling, because that leaves his right side safe and open space for her to lean against him. Instantly, her eyes shut, her hand moving to his chest.

Sleeping alone most nights has been….difficult, to say the least, and she hadn't realized just how much she's missed being in his arms until now.

"Thank you, Solana."

Brows furrowed, she peers up at him, small smile on her face. "Roman, you don't have to th—"

"Yes, I do," he interrupts. There's a scarily perfect mixture of seriousness and vulnerability, both of which have her giving him her undivided attention. "I'm alive right now because of you."

She frowns. "Roman…."

"Lopez offered and allowed the help he did, has done all of this—" Roman gestures with his chin to the guards that patrol the premises. "—because of you. He didn't have to do shit. He still doesn't have to, but he does because of you. Because you have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, and you were nice to a random child. Someone you didn't know. And in doing that, you carved out the path for all of this to happen."

Her eyes water, as he continues to speak freely and honestly. "You came back— " He stops, voice tight and even. "You refused to leave me, even after I told you, told them to leave." Her fingers clutch at his shirt, her lips pressed together to keep her emotions in check. As best as possible, that is. "You killed him to protect me…"

"I'd do anything for you, Roman," she whispers. Solana doesn't want to take away from this moment nor does she want to push a man who, for all intents and purposes, has already been shoved over that damn edge given everything that's happened. However, what comes out of her mouth next come straight from the heart versus the mind. "But, I didn't do it all alone." She sees the way his jaw clenches, knows that he knows exactly what she's about to say next. "Matteo and Dwayne…."

She doesn't list the rest. Wants to specifically focus on those two for reasons that are obvious to both husband and wife.

Especially Matteo.

"I know." It's all he says. Initially. "I—I owe them my life. Same with you."

She shakes her head. "You don't owe us anything, Roman." Solana reaches up, gentle in how she grabs his chin and forces him to look at her. "They're your family. I'm your wife. We all protect each other. That's what real family does."

Such a kaleidoscope of emotions dance in his pretty irises. Acceptance, confusion, fear, and so many more. Solana knows better than most everything that went down will take time for him to process and work through, but if there's one thing she hopes he can take from it all, it's that while he's seemingly "lost" a lot of family, he's gained some as well.

Or, rather, it's time to lower the defenses and let in the family that have always been waiting patiently for him to just open the door.

Solana leans up and kisses his jaw, murmuring an I love you as she pulls her legs up under her and further leans into him. Roman's arm around her tightens, his hand moving to her stomach, resting peacefully over her belly.

It puts a small smile on her face.

A smile that deepens when Dulce's bark is followed by her coming out back, leaning up on the leg of the bench. Giggling, Solana reaches and places their fur baby on the bench with them, the puppy settling in her "doughnut" sleeping position.

Moving back to cuddling into Roman's side, Solana murmurs, "we're gonna be okay."

He doesn't say anything after that, but he doesn't need to.

She knows he feels the same.

----------

Normalcy.

It's not traditional, not what he's used to, but it's the closest sense of normalcy Roman has felt since everything went down.

It's what's gained and received from being out of the hospital and in an actual house. A home.

Their home.

And, it feels just like it. Roman awakes to the aroma of his wife's delicious cooking traveling from the kitchen into the master bedroom where Dulce sleeps on the edge of the bed most nights. Just like Solana, she seems to feel better when close to him.

Solana….

There's something indescribable and profuse that fills him every time he catches a glimpse of her smiling, watches her work meticulously and gently when changing out his bandages or handling some other medical need for his recovery. A joy he can't shake watching her carry the small clothing basket out back to hang up the clothes on the clothing line.

And, it's especially felt every time he sees her hand on her baby bump, something that's almost always on display given the light, long, flowy dresses she wears most of the time.

There's a freedom and relaxation about her in this space. This place where the world is so much smaller and life simpler.

Just them.

Roman has to catch himself at various points. Has to be mindful of it all, because he'd be lying if he didn't consider once or twice what it would be like if this was the norm.

If they never went back. Just stayed here. Content and happy.

But, then he's snatched back to reality, reminded of what chaos would ensue if he were to stay gone.

Because, based on what Matteo and Dwayne have told him, chaos is most definitely what's occurred back home.

With no one on his metaphorical throne, everyone believing him dead, bedlam has ensued among the Bloodline. Men vying for his throne, others refusing to move forward without Tribal Combat to elect a true victor.

The Cosa Nostra has already started the process of severing the decades long alliance between them and the Bloodline, his cousin Luca at the forefront of the movement.

Unsurprising.

Dwayne and Matteo didn't need to point out to him the possible involvement he had in said coup, tying together several dots, including the random missing shipment from months ago as well as the case to prove Roman unfit to lead.

It was all a front, a part of an elaborate plot that intended to see him dead.

Roman can't wait for that bastard, especially, to get exactly what's coming to him.

Along with everyone fucking else.

"Heyman and Rollins have been transferred from the burn unit to ICU."

Dwayne's announcement breaks the only Tribal Chief from his thoughts and the way he was focused instead on the scene before them. Out on the beach, chairs spread out, it's only Roman, Matteo, and Dwayne who sit and converse as the rest of the group, Solana, Paloma, Bayley, Afia, and her children, enjoy the sand and waves.

Enjoy the now.

The heartwarming sight is a contrast to the hatred that fills Roman at being reminded of two of the men still at large.

His former Wise Man and the fucking psychopath he once called friend decades prior.

"Good." Is all Roman needs to say. He's already discussed with the two men the plan to handle those fucking bastards, and them being stable enough to be moved from the burn unit to the ICU is just another way his master plan for revenge is coming together.

For most, at least.

Clearing his throat, Roman fixes his mouth. "And Jey?"

Dwayne hesitates before responding. "Released on yesterday." A noticeable pause. "His wife's funeral is scheduled for next week."

Roman says nothing in response. The same way he feels nothing at that last part. A small part of him wants to, feels like he should feel at least the smallest amount of empathy at that. From what Solana had told him, Nicki was only there because she'd been taken for collateral by Solo and Rikishi.

And, Dwayne allegedly heard an unconscious Jey was dragged out of the plant by some surviving Bloodline members. Nicki, however, was not.

She was killed in the explosion.

Same with Bron.

Roman definitely didn't care about the latter, but there's conflicted emotions toward the former.

Especially toward Jey.

And the conversation this morning with Solana didn't necessarily help.

It just confused him.

It confused him a lot.

Matteo's gaze is on his brother, as if reading Roman's mind. "Have you decided what you're going to do about him?"

Roman says nothing, as Mateo simply offers a nod of acceptance and acknowledgment.

"You'll figure it out," Dwayne encourages. Roman looks over to see him sitting forward in the beach chair that seems far too small for his big ass. "And whatever you decide, you know we'll back you."

"Always." Matteo confirms.

At that, Roman goes quiet again.

So much has happened. Too much, even for him. He's tried his best not to overthink some things, not to fall too deeply down too many holes. Both for his own sake but also for that of Solana.

He hates that she was present when that happened. Both times. He's worked so fucking hard to keep that shit away from her, but alas, the weight of it all was too much even for his strong ass defenses.

But, one thing he can't and won't deny is the way the two men beside him are largely part of the reason he's still alive. Like he told Solana, he owes them his life.

He just, for some reason, hasn't been able to express as such to them directly.

Especially Matteo.

Though Roman has a good feeling he knows why when it comes to that.

Still, he owes them at least an attempt.

"I—" Roman fucking hates that one sentence in, he's already stammering like a fucking idiot. "I haven't really….I haven't really had a chance to thank—"

"Ahhh," Dwayne cuts him off, forcing Roman to cut his eyes. He's trying to be fucking nice. "Save it for later. Once we've got all this shit sorted. You've got the time." He snorts, half joking, half serious. "Not even death itself wants to deal with your stubborn ass. We still have at least another 40 years of you terrorizing folks left."

Matteo chuckles quietly. "He's right. Though I'd say 50."

Roman rolls his eyes and drops the conversation. For now.

It's something that needs to be had, but maybe not right now.

"Now, if you boys excuse me, that dark angel over there is just begging for me to show her what a good time with the devil looks like." Dwayne stands and starts his way over to Stephanie, Solana's personal cartel guard. A bit of a bitch if you ask him, but the vicious, lethal look in her eyes is all that matters to him. She's effective.

Roman knows she's more than capable of protecting his wife. The most important thing.

With it now being just the two of them, Roman considers it. Considers taking the space and opportunity to talk with Matteo about that. The other thing.

But, it's as Matteo lands his gaze on his laughing, smiling sister-in-law who continues to play with and entertain his children, her nephews and nieces, it dawns on him. Just hits him out of nowhere. He continues to watch the domestic scene before him while stating, not asking, his younger brother. "You haven't told her yet, have you?"

Roman also shifts to watch the scene, focuses on his wife. His beautiful, happy, kind wife whose laughter is infectious, her smile alluring, and the way she keeps a hand on her baby bump enough to evoke all of the emotions in him.

He snaps a mental image. Commits it to memory. Stores it for a later recall date.

Because Lord fucking knows he's going to need it.

And, he says nothing.

Offers no response.

There's no need.

The silence is all the answer needed.

---------

Hours later, when everyone has left, and Dulce is fast asleep in her bed, Roman finds Solana putting away laundry.

She smiles when he walks into their bedroom, stopping and walking over to lean up and kiss his cheek. "You should be resting."

He chuckles. "Kind of getting tired of that, to be honest with you."

She rolls her eyes, cupping his cheek. "Why am I not surprised?" Solana laughs quietly, turning away from him to finish folding and putting away the clothes.

Roman starts to leave her alone, starts to just wait until tomorrow. He doesn't want to ruin her night. She'd had such a nice day, and this will most definitely ruin it.

But, he also thinks about time.

3 days. They have three days left here, and the longer he waits, the less time he'll have to help her process and understand why this has to be the case. He only does her a disservice by delaying the inevitable.

It's time.

"Solana." She turns around to look at him. Fuck. "I—I need to talk to you about something."

But, it's a twist he could have never predicted. Never. “I already know.”

Roman doesn’t try to hide his shock. He doesn’t try to hide much from and with his wife, really. Not when he can help it, at least. “What?”

Solana walks back over, a small, sad smile playing on her face. “It's been almost two weeks. We couldn’t stay here forever, right?” She shrugs, reaching up and cupping his face. “It’s time to go home.”

Roman doesn’t say anything. Just thinks it. 

Fuck.

He knew this would be hard, but it might be harder than he was initially thinking. Solana turns and moves over to the dresser, continuing to fold the clothes, placing them in the open drawer. “When do we have to leave?” 

He says nothing, waiting for her to finish folding the item in hand. “Solana—”

“We have to come back though.” She interrupts, clearly wanting and needing to get her thought out as she pauses momentarily, proud smile setting on her face. A hand drops to her belly. “I like it here, and I think the girls will, too.”

“Solana—”

“I love the house you bought for us, too, but there’s something about this place…” She shakes her head, turning around to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She leans back against the dresser, shirt folded over her arm. “When do we have to leave?”

Roman looks at her, suddenly unsure of just how to break this to her. But, then he sees it, sees the realization dawn, resulting in her smile dropping. Solana opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something, suddenly shaking her head and turning back around.

“It’ll—it’ll probably be good for us to get back home anyway.” 

He closes his eyes. “Solana.”

“Jumping back into the routine of it all, ya know?”

He watches her continue to fold clothes. Rapidly. Not as neat. A bit neurotic with it. 

Roman takes a careful step toward her. “Solana, I need you to lis—”

“Plus, Dulce is probably missing all her beds.” She laughs, but it’s anything but humorous. “You know how spoiled we have her.”

Proceeding with caution proves effective when Roman is close enough to his wife to touch her. Gently, he reaches for the back of Solana’s arm, slowly turning her around.

She continues to deflect, consumed by the allure of avoidance and aversion.

“And, we still have to go baby shopping—”

“Sol—”

“And set up the nurseries—”

Roman brings his hands to her face, watching how her eyes shut as she continues to try to avoid the inevitable. “Solana—”

“Because they’re gonna be here before we know it—”

“Solana—”

"Why?" She cuts him off once more, not to continue on her track of denial but to ask a question this time. Solana backs against the dresser, fingers tightly gripping the edges. "Why are you doing this?"

He swallows. "Sweetheart—"

"Why?" She asks again, voice more desperate. Eyes pleading with him for an answer he's not sure she'll be receptive to no matter how hard he works to help her understand.

"Things are unstable back home, Sol." He starts, Roman recalling the ten different mental scripts he created to handle this conversation, none of which seem good enough in the moment. But, it's all he has. "I need to figure out how deep the betrayal went, handle everyone involved who's still alive and make things right." She looks away, sniffling and releasing a shaky breath. "It doesn't make sense to take you from here, somewhere that's safe and stable. To take you out of a protected environment and bring you into that chaos."

"I'm not going into the chaos though," she argues, voice small, silent tears streaming down her face. "I'm going to be with you."

Roman looks away, hating the weight that's suddenly on his chest. He knew this conversation wouldn't be easy. Not at all. But, he just hadn't anticipated how deeply her reaction would impact him.

She's gutted.

"Solana…." Roman steps toward her, almost hesitantly, like doing so is a violation of some sort. When she offers no protest, doesn't move, just continues to look away, not meeting his eye, he moves his hands to her hips. "I don't want to do this."

"So, don't," she whispers.

Roman hates how she won't look at him, almost as much as he hates how pained his voice sounds. "I don't have a choice…"

Her eyes clench tight, her lips pressed together as she nods to herself. He's tempted to reach and force her gaze on him. It kills him to not be able to read her in this moment. Though the tension that he can feel under his touch is telling enough.

She's upset.

Rightfully so.

But, her almost icing him out is a different, hurtful experience.

He doesn't like it. At all.

"How—" She starts but stops, emotion getting the best of her. "How long?"

Roman also prepared for this portion of the conversation, but all the practice in the world, it seems, couldn't adequately ready him for this moment.

"I don't know."

He answers after a good minute of silence.

And, it's when that is shared that she finally looks at him, eyes wide and fiddled with indescribable hurt and confusion.

"What?"

Despite her contact on him, something he thought he wanted, it's suddenly terribly difficult for him to maintain that evened gaze. "I don't know how long it's going to take to settle everything—"

"So, not only can I not come home, you can't even tell me when I can go home?" She questions, inching away from him, forcing his hands down from her hips as she digs herself back into the dresser. Like being so close to him is a problem. "Roman….how is this supposed to work?" A fair, understandable question. She sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "What—the only way I can communicate and be with my husband is through texts and—and phone calls and—" She stops herself, and he fucking hates it, because he knows he's clearly given away the nail in the coffin. "What?" He says nothing, jaw clenched, prompting her to repeat herself. "What?"

Roman chews the inside of his mouth. "It's best if we go no contact while—" He's unable to finish, interrupted by the way she shakes her head, pushing him away, mumbling something he can't make out. "Solana—" He tries to reach for her, but once again, she shoves away his touch and attempts for comfort, walking out the room, leaving him alone.

"Fuck!" He shouts, landing a kick to the dresser that has the entirety of it shaking, slamming back against the wall behind it.

Ignoring the pain in his now sling-free shoulder, Roman paces the room, one hand on his hip, the other running over his face.

He wasn't lying when he told her he doesn't want to be away from his wife. The truth of the matter is that this shit tears him up just as much as it probably does her. There's a dull ache in his chest when he thinks about having to be without her, in any capacity for more than a couple hours.

But, he was also not lying when he said he doesn't have a choice.

Roman has combed through option after option, raked through all the fine details of potential outcomes, navigated the different, best ways to handle this shitshow of a situation. But, no matter how hard he's tried, how much he tried to rationalize with himself at different points, all roads lead the the decision he's made.

Solana has to stay here.

She can't come home.

Not yet.

Now when so much is in the air and traitors still roam free. Roman revealing himself as still being alive will have all eyes on him, and that includes individuals who would see this as the perfect opportunity to strike again. Believing him weak and potentially injured, the latter not entirely untrue, it'd be open season.

It will be open season, and it makes zero sense to drag Solana into that dangerous space with him.

Especially with her being pregnant.

He won't risk her life or that of his unborn daughters.

He can't.

So, like it or not, and no one likes it, the best thing to do is to keep her in Mexico where she'll be undoubtedly safe and under the witness protection of the Cartel.

It's the only way.

Roman allows her some time, waits until he goes to find her, eventually locating her on the beach. He harshly brushes away the security that lingers, wanting and needing the privacy this sort of matter requires.

She's standing and facing the ocean, arms crossed over her body, the setting sun reflecting and highlighting the dried tears on her face. Some. Some are dried. Some are new and continuing.

"This—" She starts, voice low, borderline whispered. "This shouldn't be happening right now." She swallows, eyes shut. "We should be home. Designing our new house. Getting ready for the babies." Solana turns to him, her voice cracking. "We should be shopping for their clothes, buying furniture for the nurseries." She stops, laughing bitterly, one hand over her mouth. "I—I should be trying to calm you down because you're getting frustrated because the instructions don't make any sense. We should—" She breaks down, crying into her hands, prompting him to move closer, pulling her against him.

“Please don’t do this,” she sobs into his chest. The earlier strong and admirable attempt to delay what cannot be avoided finally defeated by the cumbersome weight of emotionality and reality. “Please—I can’t—I can’t—”

“It's okay,” he comforts. Roman can sense the anxiety intensifying, could see the reddening of her face, and the instability of her breathing. “Just breathe, baby. Breathe for me.”

She does no such thing, instead looking up, her face the definition of distraught. “I—I don't want to be away from you again.”

A heartbreaking admission that he also feels. Roman doesn’t like this anymore than she does. 

“I don’t wanna be away from you either, Sol. I never do. You know that.” A vulnerable confession for her ears and her ears only. “But, baby, it’s not safe for you to come back—”

“What if I stay in the house?" She suggests, eyes wide and hopeful. It's scarily reminiscent to when he'd left before and she begged him to stay. Something, in hindsight, he should have agreed to. But, despite the anguish and desperation that fill her voice and eyes, Roman knows what the right answer is this time around.

Knows what he needs to do.

Even, if he doesn't want to.

"I won't leave. I promise." She adds, pulling on his shirt the same way her heartbreaking pleas pull at his heartstrings.

"Baby…." Roman moves his hands to cup her face, speaking clearly and firmly. "I want nothing more than to take you with me. For us to both go home together. That's what I want more than fucking anything." An honest confession. It almost makes his chest hurt to think of being without her for an undetermined amount of time. "But, that would be selfish of me. And, I can't and won't be selfish with you." One hand moves to her stomach. "Not when there's so much at stake."

Her eyes shut again, her bottom lip trembling. "Who's gonna look out for you? Who's gonna take care of you?" She sniffles, pointing out, "you're still not fully recovered."

She's right, as per usual, but his recovery plays no role in the decision that's already been made. "I'll be fine," he assures. Roman has been injured before and handled said recovery all on his own just fine. As much as he would love to have his wife assist in that process, it, again, would be a selfish thing.

She gasps, clearly still fighting to speak through her tears. "But—"

"I'll be okay, Solana," he repeats, reminding as his thumb brushes away her tears. "Dwayne and Matteo will be with me."

He's not sure if this comforts her as much as he would like it to, because while he knows she's concerned for his well-being, it's not just his physical safety she's concerned about.

She's concerned about his mental state as well.

"I'm gonna go back home, make everything right, and as soon as the smoke clears, I'll be back for you." A promise to herself and him. Whatever it takes to reunite them, he'll do. He'll do it as quickly yet efficiently as he can, because every fucking minute spent without her will be fuel for his endless fire. "And, I swear to you, we'll do everything you stated. The baby shopping. Decorating the nursery. Designing the house. All of it. I promise."

The sob breaks through as she once again leans her body into him, crying into his chest. Roman cradles the back of her head, whispering soothing words of comfort that do little to dull or diminish the shared ache of heartbreak felt between the two of them.

--------

The last few days spent together are rough, to say the least.

Both husband and wife do the best with the little time they have together, but the massive countdown that hangs and swings over them is a daunting thing that can't be ignored. Roman feels the sadness, borderline depression, in his wife just as much he can see it. The way her smile is dimmed, doesn't really meet the eye. Can tell when she holds and hugs him, it's done with a sense of yearning and memorization. Like she's trying to commit it all to memory when those memories are all she has.

He does the same.

Time spent with anyone other than each other is also greatly minimized to none. Occasional visits to the house from Dwayne, Matteo, Afia, Bayley, and Paloma that never last longer than an hour or two.

They also know.

Know that while Roman is set to fly back home in a couple days, Solana won't be on the jet with him, hence the privacy being allotted to the couple.

It's appreciated. More than they probably realize.

Solana never really left the house before he broke the news to her, part of her needing to lay low, and Roman only left for matters of business and rehab. Other than that, they're practically attached at the hip. In their own little world. Him. Her. And Dulce.

A family.

But, escapism from a grim reality is but a short term thing, and before either realizes it, the day has arrived.

It's time for Roman to leave.

Solana is on the quiet side all morning. Intentional, Roman is sure of that much. Her quietness is her attempt at keeping it together, keeping herself from falling apart and showing him just how devastating this is for her.

Not that he needs her to say it.

Again, it's more than felt.

Walking outside, Roman sees the fleet of SUV's lined up. Some waiting to escort him. Others just part of the heft security detail that will be watching and protecting Solana in his absence.

Protecting their unborn children.

Heavy footsteps lead him to where Bayley and Afia are talking among themselves, conversation silencing as he moves inches close enough for hearing distance.

They don't say anything, and neither does he. Not at first.

"I—" Roman clears his throat, suddenly hating how fucking awkward he feels. This shit is hard. "I want to….I want to thank both of you." Only Bayley shows any sort of surprise. Afia just wears that same unreadable expression.

Damn assassins.

"For….for what you did."

It's really the first time he's had a good chance to express as such. Express appreciation for the role they played in rescuing Solana. The help they provided. A massive level of help.

"Well, holy shit," Bayley curses. She looks at Afia, gesturing with a thumb. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"Don't fucking push it," he snaps.

Bayley rolls her eyes. "And there it goes."

Afia chuckles quietly, bowing her head almost gracefully. "You're welcome, though we did nothing that true family wouldn't do."

Roman doesn't have anything to say to that. His definition of family is a muddy, confusing, borderline traumatic mess these days.

"She's right," Bayley agrees. "Like it or not, we are all family. Whether it be blood or marriage…" She trails off a bit, crossing her arms and smirking. "And when the girls get here, we're about to see a hell of a lot more of each other, because Aunt Bayley and Aunt Afia can't wait to spoil the princesses."

Roman is certain he shouldn't feel as mortified as he does. It's a good thing the girls will have people who love and care about them beyond just himself and Solana, but the idea of all those people.

Some level of his mixed reaction must show as Afia offers a bit of an out. She transitions, tone solemn. "We'll look out for her. She'll be safe."

He swallows, unwilling to comment on that. Bayley offers a nod of agreement. A part of him wants to also thank them for being willing to stay with Solana. For putting their lives on hold, in a sense, while he tries to put his back together.

But, he decides against it. He knows that they're not doing it out of obligation or even duty.

They're doing it out of love.

With a few more parting words, Roman turns to head back in the house only to be met with someone else.

Paloma.

Unlike the initial silence with himself and the other two women, there is none to be found with his wife's grandmother.

"It will be hard for her." She cuts straight to the point, a hint of sadness in her voice. "She's will miss you deeply, and your absence will be like a void no one else can fill." She pauses, and Roman wonders if it's because his lingering guilt at a decision he knows is right, albeit gut-wrenching, is weighing on him. "But, she will be okay. We're here for her. She's not alone."

Roman wishes her words hit deeper than they do. Appreciated. Truly. But, they don't seem to stand up against the tidal wave of regret he has in Solana even being in this situation.

Not of his own doing, but a situation he hates, nonetheless.

"Thank you."

It's all he knows how to say. What more is there to say to something like that?

Paloma chuckles and steps forward, lifting her hand to cup his face. She closes her eyes and says something in Spanish. He readies to ask for a translation when something catches his gaze above and behind her.

Solana stands in the front of the house, speaking with Dwayne and Matteo. His cousin reaches to pull Solana in a hug, nodding as she potentially says something to him. Pulling back, he places his fist over his chest, patting it twice and nodding.

An acknowledgment of some sort.

Then comes Matteo. That hug seems to linger a little longer, both communicating something unheard from where Roman stands, but there's an ease that comes with reading Solana's face. Something understood as she wipes her eyes after the hug breaks apart, and the two men turn to leave, Dwayne heading toward the SUV's and Matteo to Afia.

And then Solana is looking at him.

Roman swallows, seeing how she motions towards the house before turning on her heel, disappearing inside.

Paloma drops her hand from his face and motions behind her. "Go."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

He finds her standing a mere few feet away from the front door that he quietly closed behind him. She's leaning back against the wall, arms crossed looking upward, as if deep in thought.

She doesn’t say anything. Not at first. Just keeps her head tilted up towards the ceiling. And then after a good minute, she breaks that silence. Her voice is borderline stoic, a testament of her valiant attempts to keep it together. “Thanksgiving is in four days.”

Roman stills. He had no idea. In the midst of everything that’s occurred, the days have seemed to bleed and blend together. Not to mention he’s never been big on holidays. Hasn’t celebrated or really acknowledged them since he was a boy.

But, Solana….it's different for her.

Was supposed to be different for her this year, and she confirms as much.

“I was going to….to talk to you about hosting this year.” She whispers. Roman hates how he can hear the emotion she’d been trying so hard to suppress make its way to the surface. “I—I wanted it to be special.” He closes his eyes, gaze dropping to the floor, fist forming at his side.

Thanksgiving will be anything but.

“And Christmas….” She trials off, finally dropping her head, Roman meeting her shattered gaze. “I wanted….” A dangerous glint of hope appears in her eyes, foreshadowing a question that will only elicit further disappointment. “Will you….will you come back before….”

Roman fixes his jaw. The only thing he can give her in this moment is honesty. Even if it only digs that knife in deeper. “I don’t want to lie to you….”

Truth be told, Roman believes he can fix everything, that he can get everything stable again, before then. That he can have his wife back home with him before the year-end holiday she seemed so excited about. But, there’s also so many unknown variables that could hinder that, and he doesn’t want to mislead her.

Doesn’t want to get her hopes up for what could be nothing.

"Solana—"

"Christmas is only a few weeks away." Licking her lips, closing her eyes, she nods to herself. "I didn't even get a chance to finish making your gift." And with all resolve crumbling, there's a slight tremble of her body as the weight of it all topples her. "We….were supposed to be together for Christmas." She gasps, shaking her head, one hand to her stomach. "Like a family."

Two steps are all it takes for him to move in front of her. Wordlessly, Roman gathers her into his arms, feeling the way she clutches onto him, bawling into his chest.

"This isn't fair," she cries. "I hate this. I hate them for doing this to us."

"I know," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head. "I hate it, too." More than she could ever realize. "But, I'm going to make this right, Sol. I promise. And the second things are safe again, I'm coming back for you." He's said it several times now and will continue to say it for as long and as many times she needs him to. "Nothing and no one could ever keep me from you, Solana." His hand drops to her stomach, pressing against the swell of her baby bump. "From them."

She nods, as if trying to sear his words into her mind, body, and soul. "You'll be careful, r—right?"

He kisses her temple. "Always."

"And continue your r-rehab and do what the doctors t-tell you?"

For her. He will. It's the least he can do. "Yes, baby."

She grasps onto his wrist, eyes still closed, tears still falling. "And as soon as I can come home—"

"I'll be on the jet coming to get you." Another reiteration. Reassurance she's needing a lot of in this moment.

Solana nods once more, leaning up to wrap her arms around him, forcing them into a hug.

Roman closes his eyes and breathes her in. Takes in every detail, from minute to overt. The way her body fits perfectly against his. The press of her baby bump against his abs, the aroma of her gourmand perfume that allures him.

Just her.

"I love you, Solana." A whispered, vulnerable thing, because just as much as she's going to miss him….he'll miss her more. He swallows once again, that emotion building back up. "More than anything in this whole fucking world."

She chokes up a sob, voice cracking as she reciprocates his vow of love. "I love you too, mi amor. Siempre tu."

Words inked on her body and etched in his soul.

Roman isn't entirely sure who breaks away first. He just knows Dulce sitting and whimpering at their feet prompts him to pet her once more. He'd already told her goodbye earlier, another rather difficult task, but like her mother, another parting gesture is needed.

Standing back up, Roman cups Solana's cheek. She brings her hands to hold his wrist, the smallest, solemn smile on her face. And with the saddest voice he's probably heard in some time, if ever, she whispers the single damning word.

"Go."

The weight deepens, shifts on his chest, but it's a weight he has to ignore. Has to power through. And, he does. Roman places one last kiss against her forehead, lips lingering, the same way she squeezes his wrist one last time before dropping her hands.

Stepping back, he grants her and Dulce one last look, another task of necessary memorization, one final time.

And, then he's out the door, forcing himself to ignore the sound of her sob finally breaking through and the succumbing of the weight in his chest.

Heartbreak.

It's heartbreak.

------

Loving can hurt Loving can hurt sometimes

[shanklin]

Do Shellfish Stan and Fiddleford ever talk? In my mind Stan makes a conscious decision to ignore Fiddleford when he's around because they're not friends, like Mabel told him 3 years ago and also bc of resentment as he was the first one that caused a rift between him and Ford

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Oh,

Stan and Fiddleford, Fiddleford and Stan!

The greatest relationship that never was. [Platonic or whatever you prefer, I don’t care]

Stan clearly loves robots in canon, still thinking about his little Footbot even 40 years later.

It always makes me think about what would’ve happened if someone saw Stan’s love for robots and decided to teach him. 

In fact, you know what? Shellfish Stan has the internet. What if he taught himself how to make simple robots. Entertaining youtube vids would do the trick.

And then shortly after arriving in Gravity Falls Stan sees Fiddleford around and immediately runs home to Ford.

“FORD! STANFORD! I found the coolest kid in the entire galaxy! We gotta befriend this guy!”

Stan tells Ford all about the kid building real robots. Big ones that move freely, shoot lasers and can even talk!

Ford is…not impressed. He was never particularly interested in Stan's obsession with robots and knows that Stan sometimes exaggerates. He also knows that as soon as the kid sees what a freak he is, the whole friendship thing will be off the table and Stan will be sad. Better to stay home and hang out with Grunkle Dipper instead! That’s more than enough for Ford. [Or so he tells himself]

Stan won’t take no for an answer.

[Mabel is standing in the background frowning and making a mental note to talk to Stan about not forcing Ford to do things he doesn’t wanna do.]

So Stan drags Ford to Fidds and Ford has to admit. He’s a little impressed after all. Very impressed actually. Woah EXTREMELY impressed. That’s some highly advanced tech!

Stan starts to introduce themselves, eager to get to know the guy and finally have someone to talk about robots with. Someone who understands their awesomeness! Maybe together they can finally convince Ford how cool robots really are!

Stan is cut off by Ford asking Fiddleford questions that Stan doesn’t understand and Fiddleford answers them excitedly. Soon they’re in their own world and there is no space for Stan to enter.

It’s Great Uncle Mason and Ford all over again, only somehow this time it's worse. 

It was supposed to be Stan and Fiddleford bonding over their shared interest. Together they would drag Ford out of the house so he wouldn't spend the entire summer at home hanging out with an old man.

Making an actual friend would make this the best summer ever! They've never made a friend before, but this was their one chance. Stan could feel it!

And just imagine all the pranks they could pull and trouble they could cause if they were a trio instead!

Stan looks at the Fords and hears them speak, but it might as well be different language.

Ford seems to be having fun though. He seems really interested in Fiddleford’s inventions.

Oh. 

It wasn’t that Ford thought robots were boring and stupid and that’s why he was never interested in Stan’s attempts.

It’s that Stan’s robots were boring and stupid.

Looking at Fiddleford’s inventions now, Stan can’t help but agree. 

His own attempts must’ve looked laughable to Ford. It’s a miracle his brother never made fun of him.

Stan knew, of course, that Fiddleford was smarter than him but he thought maybe he could teach Stan or at least help Stan a bit with his own Footbot project.

That's stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Fiddleford is much better than Stan. He's a genius like Ford. He wouldn't be interested in anything that Stan had to offer.

Stan flushes in embarrassment and runs back home claiming he forgot something.

Ford comes back hours later grinning from ear to ear and never asks why Stan stayed away. Stan is pretty sure Ford didn’t even notice.

By the time Stan gets another chance to talk to Fiddleford, he already learned some important lessons and knows he should let Ford have his own friends. He’s also too ashamed to show anyone, especially the coolest guy he’s ever met, his own pathetic inventions. 

[If this Stan ever gets his happy ending he and Fiddleford can sometimes be found building an army of increasingly more and more dangerous robots. Ask them what the army is for and they just end up cackling. Everyone is concerned but they can’t bring themselves to stop the boys. Stan seems to be having so much fun.]

[luvvictoria]

Oh yay! Anon who asked about if you wrote neurodivergent reader :)

I was curious if you would be interested in writing something about Ghost or Soap or both comforting and helping reader after having a meltdown or just kinda breaking down after a hard day? Like maybe things just weren't going their way and they're overstimulated and tired and it's all just too much. (I used neutral pronouns in this but gn or fem reader are both good for me)

Totally understand if it's not something you're interested or comfortable writing, no pressure at all <3

Lean on me, love - Ghost & Soap

+ pairings. poly!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader

+ tags. hurt to comfort, friend to lovers ( or whatever you'd like ), breakdown comfort, soft moments, you are not alone, flirty Soap, protective Ghost, cuddle pie, Ghost is soft for you, Soap is a little shit , group cuddles !

+ a/n. Hello dearr, sorry for the late reply but thank you for the ask and I hope you'll like the story <3 Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance!!

+ summary. The day had been too much. Exhaustion, frustration, and overstimulation pressed down on you until you couldn’t hold it in any longer. But Ghost and Soap aren’t the kind to let you suffer alone. Between Soap’s warmth and Ghost’s steady presence, they remind you that you don’t always have to be strong. That sometimes, it’s okay to lean on the ones who’ve got you—always

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

The day had been too much.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, the weight of it all became unbearable. It had built up slowly, the way a storm gathers on the horizon—small inconveniences stacking up like fragile glass until the slightest shift sent everything shattering.

The mission had been a mess. Communications had failed at the worst possible time, leading to an unnecessary firefight. Debrief had been grueling, your every move dissected and analyzed. Then came the equipment check, the endless reports, and the exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Every word directed at you felt sharper, every glance like scrutiny. It felt like you couldn’t do anything right today, like the entire world had conspired to push you past your limits.

Your head buzzed, your breathing uneven, your hands clenched so tightly that your nails dug into your palms. Your throat ached from holding back the weight pressing on your chest. Too much. It was all too much.

You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” Soap’s voice was gentle, coaxing, like he could see the storm raging behind your eyes.

You let him guide you out of the bustling base, down the quiet corridors until you were outside. The cool night air hit you like a shock to the system, but it wasn’t enough to ground you. Your thoughts raced, your muscles tense, like you were still trapped in the chaos of the day.

Ghost was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied you with that ever-watchful gaze of his. No judgment, no impatience—just understanding. And that was almost worse.

Your breathing hitched. The knot in your throat swelled, burning hot, and your vision blurred as everything came crashing down at once.

A sharp, ragged breath escaped you. Then another. And then—

A sob.

Not a pretty, silent kind, but a real, gut-wrenching one. The kind that shook your shoulders and made your whole body tremble. You gasped, trying to hold it in, but it was useless. The dam had broken, and the flood was unstoppable.

Soap didn’t hesitate. He pulled you in, arms wrapping around you tightly, grounding you against him. “It’s alright,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “You don’t have to hold it all in, you know.”

You clung to him like a lifeline, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would make everything fall apart again. He was warm, steady, real. He rubbed slow, comforting circles along your back, whispering quiet reassurances that you were safe, that it was okay.

Ghost didn’t crowd you, but he didn’t leave either. He stayed close, solid and steady, a quiet wall of strength beside you. “It’s been a shit day,” he said simply, like it was an undeniable fact. And somehow, that helped.

Your breath hitched, and you gave a wet, broken laugh. “That’s putting it lightly.”

Soap chuckled softly against your hair. “Aye, well, didn’t want to be dramatic.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs brushing over the dampness on your cheeks. His blue eyes searched yours, his usual playful glint softer now. “You gonna be alright, love?”

Ghost’s hand landed on your back—firm, grounding, warm. “We’ve got you,” he murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

Something in your chest cracked, but this time, it wasn’t from the weight of the day—it was something warmer, something terrifying in its tenderness. Your heart pounded, suddenly all too aware of how close they both were, how easily you fit between them.

Soap grinned, tilting his head. “Y’know, if you wanted our attention this badly, you could’ve just asked instead of havin’ a breakdown.”

You swatted at his arm weakly, groaning. “God, you’re insufferable.”

But you didn’t pull away.

Ghost huffed, amused. “You’re lucky we like you.”

Your stomach did a stupid little flip at that, and you hated how much warmth spread through you at the thought. “Yeah?” You tried to sound teasing, but your voice was still raw, unsteady.

Soap hummed, his hands still resting on your waist. “Yeah.” Then, in a lower, quieter voice, “We like you a lot, actually.”

You froze for a second, looking between them. Ghost’s eyes, dark and unreadable, held something deeper, something that sent heat curling down your spine. Soap’s expression was softer, but just as intense.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, the weight of the day didn’t matter anymore.

“…Shit,” you muttered, the corners of your lips twitching despite yourself. “Now I really don’t know what to do with myself.”

Soap laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got you.”

And for the first time that day, you believed it.

[quesocheeso]

So for 3am (Jesus it’s so long but I wanted to share my thoughts 😭)

I can see Mac and nice guy hitting it off going two ways, you know one they do hit it off and the guy is super nice, accommodating, listens to Mac, and they’re having a nice time but the guy is just, soo nice you know? He’s super nice, super friendly, and that’s it. The guy is just so nice and that’s his whole personality. Which is fine, he treats Mac well and is nice to his kids and friends and when people see them together it’s like wow what a nice couple but it’s so fucking boring. Like, Mac likes how nice the guy is but that’s it. He’s not unattractive either but Mac is just so bored, he tries to have banter and the guy turns it into something super soft which necessarily bad but it’s so boring. And it’s not what Mac wants. Mac is a parent, a warrior, a survivor, and he’s mischievous and soft and sarcastic and this guy is the most kind, gentle, serious guy he’s met and yes he’s a great guy but Mac has had to tone himself down and basically change parts of himself just to be at the guys levels and the people who know him more (PIF, Redson, etc) cant see how he’s with this guy and how he hasn’t blown up yet. And then the guy, that everyone agrees is nice, sets up a party with all his and Mac’s family and friends and proposes. And finally, after weeks (no more than a couple of months) of watching Mac date this guys that doesn’t understand Mac at all and watching Mac change himself just to be with this guy, Wukong fucking explodes. And it’s everything Mac wanted but goddamn in front of everyone it looks so bad 😂. And they have to cool it off, tables and chairs are broken, everyone’s yelling, and it’s Xiaoxing, the kid whose been supportive of his mom getting out there that’s throws the fucking cake at nice guy and his dad yelling like, HOW TF YOU GONNA MARRY MY MOM AFTER A MONTH YOU CRAZY BITCH AND DAD WTF WHY DIDNT YOU SAY ANYTHING BEFORE, while Mac just took Xiaoyue and fucking left though not without hearing nice guy talk about how he envisions their future together and oh fuck Mac you maybe let this guy get in so deep he’s fucking delusional, you hate everything about what he wants, this is never gonna work out, this man thinks your shy, gentle, househusband material, he can’t imagine you’ve ever even punched a bitch. And so there’s chaos, reveals of true identities, and Mac and the nice guy have a talk about being honest about who they are and that they aren’t right for each other even without all the lies between them (cuz nice guy also had some old shit he was hiding that may include a crazy ex that tries to murder Mac during all the chaos when she hears proposal). And then Mac and Wukong finally talk, and yell, and confess to a lot, say sorry, and agree to try again slowly (before getting drunk married on their first date night like the crazy people they are and having to hide that from the rest of their family and friends until they’ve gone out enough that it wouldn’t look insane to their friends/fam that they’re getting married and include Xiaoxing the ring bearer, xiaoyue the flower girl, and Xiaotian, man get ordained online as a surprise and decided after everything he’s gone through to get these two monkeys together, he’s gonna be the one to marry them to each other, no take backs (redson and mei are rocking security, after all this bullshit no one is interrupting this wedding). And the wedding happens and yay, going on a honeymoon while Xiaotian (who they know now is their uncle) babysits the kids. And they come back with great news, they’re expecting again! (They’re actually nervous as hell, they swore they used protection like always but sometimes things just break (or maybe a certain goddess decided to bless their union and that kind of supersedes other things)).

Or, other option, well maybe Mac and a nice guy hit it off but the nice guy is maybe too nice, not that Mac doesn’t want someone to be nice to him but maybe this guy is too too nice, too accommodating, and just listens to everything Mac says and always wants to be there for him, always texting him, calling him, and Mac at first is going along with it, trying to move on from Wukong (and unconsciously wanting him to do something) but after a couple of dates and talks from friends, Wukong confronts Mac before another date and they talk and yell and do all the apologies and confessing and decide to try again slowly, but first Mac has to break it off his nice guy, which he’s totally fine with, he was getting a bit too clingy anyway. And he does, he missed their date the night before with everything that happened and calls him to ask to meet up to break it off. So they meet to talk and the guy says he understands but asks if they could go out together for lunch as friends and then they’d be done and Mac agrees, cuz he feels a bit bad for just using this guy. So they go out and bring a special bottle of wine and a goodbye gift for Mac and asks if he could put it on him and he agrees. And of course Mr. Nice guy was actually kind of Yandere and the wine actually had a bit of a love potion in it and the necklace is basically a mind control this to make him obedient to him, and after he’s got both of those, the ‘nice’ guy proposes to him at the restaurant, and Mac of course says yes he loves his boyfriend and he takes him home and turns off Mac’s phone and basically kidnaps him. And yea people go looking for him but when they see him he says he’s fine and they’re planning to get married and everyone’s like wtf and nobody believes Wukong when he tells them that they get back together until Xiaoxing goes to get his mom and sees like, wtf this is some Dai Li (avatar) shit going on and tried to get him to come home (to the mountain) but he won’t and the guy is getting really creepy and Xiaoxing is about to laser his face off if he doesn’t let him talk to his mom alone but MK stops him and they retreat with this new information, possible brainwashing fucking again, and it turns into this huge conspiracy rescue mission with everyone cuz they guy and Mac left the fucking country and the race is on, people start believing Wukong and it becomes a huge thing where finally Xiaoxing, Mr I’m an independent teenager, and Xiaoyue, the one everyone tried to keep from seeing Mac like this, actually cry and Mac breaks free while the others fight off this dude whose trying to basically become some sort of ultimate overlord (which is partially why he wanted Mac for his power at his side, also he’s hot so of course he’d go for him). And then he reunites with family and friends and Wukong and they kiss in front of the sunrise (yes cuz this shit went down at night goddamn they’re all so fucking exhausted) and they decide fuck it, we know what we want and they get married the next morning with everyone watching them in this random ass country with their friends and family with them.

Sorry they’re so long but I just needed to share 😭😂 I love both options

I have no words actually this was a wild ass ride😭😭😭😭

I love how random guys just became a villain in your ask like my homeboy out here going psycho mode when in my mind he’s just a lil guy😭😭😭😭

I loved this so much,,, this is true telenovela quality content lmaoooooo

[coquettefrancaise]

harajuku girls

by Gwen Stefani

pair: Azriel x reader ~ 926

warnings: small innuendos, Cassian

summary: no one everyone could have guessed that the lord of bloodshed’s favorite singer was a pop princess from another world

authors note: let’s be honest… we all know this as fact (not proofread 😚)

The backs of your thighs were burning. As we’re your knees. And your calves.

When you had drunkenly bet Nesta you could squat more than her, you didn’t expect to have to follow up on it. Especially the next day, when you were already recovering from the- thankfully softening -headache from having downed two wine bottles yourself last night.

“Not thinking of giving up on me now, are you?”

You cast your silver-eyed friend a scathing glare as you bent your knees again, refraining from cursing.

“Is this why Cassian has such nice glutes?” Gwyn pondered aloud as she stood in the shade, sipping at a water cup.

Azriel stood beside her, watching the competition, muscled arms crossed and an unimpressed expression. “Do you check out Cassian’s ass often?”

“N-no!” The redhead sputtered. “You know how he is; always flaunting his muscles. Especially his glutes.”

Azriel merely dipped his chin, amusement dancing in his eyes at flustering the Valkyrie.

With the sun blaring down on your already overheated body, and the ache building in your legs, you collapsed on your ass on the hard floor of the training ring.

Nesta began whooping in victory before falling on her own ass. “Told you!” she gloated, flattening herself on the mat and throwing an arm over her forehead.

A shadow loomed over you and peering up you found Azriel holding out a cup to you, one in his other hand for Nesta.

“You both did fairly well. Although I have a couple of notes on your posture.” He told you, darkening eyes on your throat as you gulped down the cool liquid. “Perhaps later in our room…”

A crumpled cup hit him directly in the middle of his chest.

“You’ll have to wait a couple of days for my body to recuperate, shadowsinger. And that had better just been an innuendo.”

Nesta snickered from her spot beside you.

The door to the roof opened and Cassian walked out, nodding his head along to some unheard beat. You tilted your head and squinted your eyes for a better look.

“What in the cauldron is in his ears?”

Azriel scoffed, “The earbuds Bryce gave me and I’ll bet you he has the iPod too.”

“What?”

Instead of answering you, he called out to Cassian, sending a shadow to tap on his shoulder when the lord of bloodshed didn’t answer.

Cassian turned and grinned widely at the four of you. He pulled one wire from his ear. “Sorry I’m late. Rhys needed to see me-“

“Where’d you get that?” Azriel’s voice interrupted.

Cassian raised a thick brow in confusion before understanding dawned on his face. He pulled from his pocket a small pink box. “This?”

Azriel nodded, exasperated.

“In my nightstand.”

“Wrong. It was in my nightstand.”

“Yours, mine, ours. Come on brother, we share each other’s clothes!”

“Wh- I’ve never worn your clothes Cassian.” Azriel wrinkled his freckled nose. “Have you worn mine?!”

Cassian had the humility for a pink tinge to color his cheeks. “Sometimes when my underwear-“

Everyone collectively gasped.

Nesta rubbed her hands over her eyes, groaning. “He’s over five hundred years old and steals his brother’s underwear and I’m mated to him.”

Having heard her grumbling, Cassian pointed an accusing finger at her, “You told me they pronounce my assets!”

“I didn’t know they were Azriel’s!”

You got to your feet, gripping Azriel’s arm for support as he said, “We’re going to come back to that,” he shuddered in disgust, “but for now I want to know why you were in my nightstand.”

With a roll of his eyes, Cassian walked over to the small group and propped his hands on his hips in an exasperated pose. “Why are you so angry about this? You know I’ve always been a snoop.”

“Just answer the question.”

“If you’re worried about me finding something risqué I can assure you I haven’t. Everyone knows all your ‘toys’ are kept in the dungeon.” His hazel eyes flicked to you with a wink.

You wish you would have thrown the cup at him instead.

Though faint, you could hear the staccato beat of a song coming from the wire hanging loose at Cassian’s neck. You leaned forward to get a better listen.

“What are you listening to anyway?”

“Only the best pop princess ever.”

“I didn’t take you for a Lady Gaga fan.” Azriel tilted his head, studying his brother in a new light.

“Not her. Gwen Stephanie.”

“Stefani.” Your mate corrected, “You don’t even know her name, asshole.”

You held up a hand to halt their headache worsening conversation. “Who are these princesses? What court are they from?”

Azriel plucked the pink box from Cassian’s hand and unplugged the wire from it. “Listen up ladies,” he turned to three Valkyries and Cassian. “This is an iPod. A music box from another world. No, they’re not real princesses, they’re only the best singers to ever bless your ears.”

And with his small speech, he pressed his finger on the black screen, which in turn produced a staticky song.

Your eyes widened as you listened, mind-blown and in awe.

Cassian tapped his boot to the rhythm. “You like this one? Wait until he turns on Crash.”

When the song was through, Azriel pressed another music, halting the music. You frowned.

“Bryce told me of this sound amplifier machine so, maybe if Cassian stops stealing my iPod, I’ll have Rhys ask Helion if he could manufacture one.”

As training started up again, Cassian and Azriel left to spar but you heard Azriel’s disgruntled words. “So do you put my underwear back in my drawer or…”

credit to saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers ♥

[eoe-1379]

Avalanche Part 2

You can read Part 1 here!

Sexual themes and language - minors do not interact.

Tags: threesome, blowjobs, sharing *ahem* fluids, anal, edging, dirty talk, praise kink, fun sex (laughing and general sex positivity) - 🤷‍♀️

Enjoy ;p

“It's my turn,” Caleb mumbled into the crook of your neck, unable or unwilling to pull himself from the warm, sweet scent of your skin.

Zayne’s tall legs caged both of you in on the sofa, his touch wandering politely over your hips while Caleb’s suckling threatened to render you powerless.

“Truth or dare?” Zayne breathed, one cool hand brazenly wandering up your shirt.

“Dare,” Caleb answered between hickies.

“Take this off of her.” Zayne’s tone darkened with his request, his fingers tugging helplessly at the thin fabric over your breasts.

Caleb looked at Zayne, then his gaze shifted to you. His purple eyes scrutinized your face, searching for any signs of refusal or discomfort. His gaze was intense, filled with concern and a silent question, seeking your approval before proceeding.

“Do it.” You nod, lifting off Zayne’s chest to sit upright between them, raising your arms to assist.

Caleb tore the top over your head, tossing it onto the coffee table before diving between your exposed breasts. He bit and tugged at your black bra with his teeth, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Truth or dare baby?” he asks through the fabric.

You hesitate, twitching with a soft gasp as Zayne’s tongue finds your earlobe, his hands now sliding into the waistband of your jeans.

“D-Dare.” You shudder, hardly able to get the word out without moaning as Caleb pulls one of your breasts from its sheath and wraps his warm lips around your nipple.

Then he stops. The absence of his warmth is startling, and you instinctively follow it forward until Zayne's cold grip halts you.

Caleb sits back on his heels, observing the scene with a grin. His dark eyes study your flushed face, your rosy lips parted in longing, your hair tangled in a nest with Zayne's dark locks. His gaze wanders to Zayne's hands on your breasts and belly, and his fists clench. A tumult of emotions courses through him, a heady cocktail of arousal and jealousy swirling together. He struggles to differentiate between the two, the line between desire and possessiveness becoming increasingly blurred.

And then, there's Zayne. His friend. His rival. The man whose body is now intimately entwined with yours. It stirred something unfamiliar within Caleb. It's a new fascination, a sudden and unexpected attraction that he wasn't quite sure how to handle. Seeing Zayne's strong hands on your skin, his lips on your neck, Caleb can't deny the stirring deep within him or the quickening of his pulse. It's a confusing mix of desire, envy, and something else he can't quite name. All he knows for sure is, he wants you both.

He considered your dare for a long moment, watching Zayne caress and nuzzle you from behind, his arousal steadily growing. He took a final sip of whiskey, then stood from the couch, his arm outstretched, his palm awaiting yours. You took his hand, and together, both men helped you to your feet.

Caleb tipped your face up toward his with a pinch of your chin to kiss you. It started soft, his lips brushing once, twice, a whisper of warmth that makes your breath catch—before his mouth crashed into yours with hungry precision. Fingers threaded through your hair, angling your face steeper as his tongue swept in, tasting you like something sacred and starved for, the push-pull of tenderness and desperation blurring until you’re clinging to his shoulders, lightheaded from the sweetness of how he lingers, nipping your lower lip. He held you firm in his arms until he was satisfied, stroking the saliva from your lips after he’d pulled away for air.

“I dare you,” he murmured, his voice sensually low, “to go get ready in the bedroom - and don't come out unless I say.”

He kissed you again and sent you off with a pat on the ass, waiting till you were out of view and earshot before he sat back on the couch next to Zayne. “We need to chat,” he said seriously, making stern eye contact with his friend.

Zayne shifted a little uncomfortably but set his glass down to give Caleb his full attention.

“I’m listening.”

“How far are we willing to take this?” He asked, unsure of his own answer to that question. This was all new territory after all.

“I’ll go as far as you’ll let me.” Zayne replied, “You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, okay…” Caleb took a moment to rub his face, groaning into his hands before re-emerging more confident in his desires, “As long as she's mine, I think… I'm okay with anything that she's okay with.”

“And…us?” Zayne asked, hesitantly gesturing between them.

A silent moment of contemplation passed before Caleb shrugged.

“I'm game if you are, but let's keep the focus on her to start.”

Zayne nodded in agreement, picking up his drink for one more shot of courage.

“Hey!”

Both men turned toward the bedroom, seeing only the darkened threshold waiting for them. “What kind of party is this? I’m all alone!”

Both men smiled. Any leftover reluctance or uncertainty melted away at the sound of your voice. Their minds were made up. The path forward was clear. Nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

You meanwhile, had been biding your time cleaning…frantically. You gathered up every stray article of clothing, every mid-term paper and textbook still strewn on the floor from your late-night cram sessions, your walkman, and cassettes. Every obstacle that might potentially interrupt the evening's events had to go. You didn't want a single distraction or trip hazard to ruin this.

You could hardly wrap your mind around what was about to happen. Your heart raced with nervous excitement—but then you spotted your reflection in the mirror, and froze.

Your hand reaches for the messy knot hanging on the side of your head like a pom-pom, and a small noise of panic squeaks past your lips. You race to the attached bathroom and fix your hair, touching up your makeup while you're there - why not? Then you look at your clothes. How many days have you been wearing this t-shirt? Is that a ramen stain? God, you hoped that was all it was. You needed to change.

You strip quickly, being sure to stay out of the doorway for modesty's sake—which seemed silly afterward. Within your shared dresser, you dig into the bottom drawer—Caleb's toy box. Just as you had hoped, your lingerie was washed and folded, tucked neatly between playthings, a bundle of pink satin and lace. Caleb bought it for your birthday last year, after you told him wearing it would make you feel like Olivia Newton-John, and you weren't wrong. You slipped into the bodice and threw the shawl around your shoulders, before settling on the bed to wait.

Leaning back on your elbows you strike a seductive pose as the men ducked under the doorframe.

Caleb's eyes lit up when he saw you, his smile brimming with pride and affection.

Zayne was equally mesmerized, actually stock still at the sight of you.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, sliding one smooth leg across the other.

“Mine, I believe.” Zayne blinked as if breaking from a trance.

You get up on your knees, inching toward him on the spring mattress.

“Truth or dare?” you ask.

“Does it matter?” he shuddered, looking down as you pulled him to the edge of the bed by his belt.

You shake your head no, smiling as you liberate the leather from its steel buckle.

“Not so fast, pipsqueak.” Caleb playfully tackled you around the waist, flipping you over his hips to the other side of the mattress. You giggled but didn't resist. “I’ll take my turn first, if its all the same you you.”

You snuggle into his embrace as he folds you up in his arms and kisses you deeply, one hand firm against the side of your face. He lifts your leg over his hip and rolls you on top of him, keeping you balanced on his pelvis.

Before you realize it, Zayne is behind you. His hand finds yours on the covers, an icy touch that startles you initially but quickly transitions to be soothing and serene. He gently pulls you away from Caleb's kiss and into one of his own. You can feel Caleb moving underneath you, but you're lost in Zayne's tender touch. His bare arms close around you, pulling you back against his cool chest, as pristine as marble.

“A-h,” Your breath catches as Caleb's clothed erection presses into you, hot and firm. His calloused fingers slide the straps of your bodice down your shoulders, the top folding to rest upon your waist, leaving your bare breasts exposed to the air.

Zayne's lips caress your shoulder while Caleb's hands slide up your thighs. The touches of both men become a blur of stimulation as you lose yourself in between them. Your arousal pools between your legs, making you squirm with desire.

“Not yet baby,” Caleb coos, pulling you off of Zayne. He cradles your neck, the other arm lifting your hips in the air before he lays you down on the comforter. “We gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Zayne breathed, kneeling to your right, while Caleb settled on your left.

“N-no!” You gasp, arching in response to Zayne's cold touch descending under the satin to tease your folds. His fingers warm in your heat.

A soft sound of amusement echoed.

“I wasn’t asking you, darling.”

After some deep exploration beyond your walls, Zayne withdrew. You crane your neck to look over your breasts and see him raise two glistening fingers to Caleb's tight lips.

Caleb hesitated, looking from Zayne to your juices dripping like honey from his fingertips.

“Have I ever done what before?” he asked raggedly, trying to resist the urge to taste you.

“This.” Zayne leaned further forward to force your slick into Caleb's mouth.

Your boyfriend scoffed, about to pull away, but then your intoxicating essence hit his tongue, and all resistance crumbled. Caleb grabbed Zayne's wrist to hold him steady, while he savored every trace of you. The veins on both men's arms bulged and pulsed as their strengths clashed in a silent battle for dominance. Once finished, Caleb released Zayne, only his expression wasn't one of satisfaction, it was one of insatiable hunger.

“Keep her busy,” Caleb ordered, vanishing from your sight.

“Where are you-”

Zayne interrupted you with a slip of his tongue past your teeth, making you smile. It was a familiar dance between you two, these battles of will and wit. Whenever you fought, he quickly overpowered you, always wearing that superior smirk of his that you found utterly irresistible. You were on the verge of starting a verbal fight, ready to parry and spar with words, when you felt Caleb's heavy hands wrapping around your thighs. The touch was assertive, a raw claim for attention.

“Hold her, she squirms.” Came your boyfriend’s stern voice from between your knees.

“Caleb! Ah!” You giggle and writhe playfully as Zayne wrestles your limbs into submission, sitting on your ribs with his knees on your shoulders, your wrists pinned above your head in his hand.

“I have my orders, darling, it’s better if you don’t struggle.”

“Zayne!” You strain once more in defiance before dropping, limp from exhaustion.

“There’e go,”

You can scarcely hear Caleb now, his words muffled and low. As you're trying to decipher his message, a hot wet shock shoots pleasure up your spine, making you arch and moan, fighting Zayne’s restraints with the strength of pure ecstasy.

Caleb knew all your favorite tricks, hell he’d taught you most of them. He kept his hands firmly on your thighs, spreading you like a book so that he could lick your pages one by one. He nuzzled at your clit until it peeked from its hide, then he sucked it between his teeth before sliding the full length of his tongue into your sopping pussy.

You groan, fighting Caleb with your knees, and Zayne with your arms. You failed at both, but you did manage to slip a single hand free from Zayne in the struggle.

“Christ you're strong,” Zayne chuckles, all his muscles flexed and he snatched your hand back, putting it in its place above your head.

“I call her the sex-hulk” Caleb chimed in, taking a break from bullying your folds. “She broke two sets of my handcuffs - one of them was real!”

“Sex-hulk,” Zayne laughs louder, his grip on you weakening.

“Fuckkk” you roll your hips with a desperate whine, “Can we f-focus please - Ah!”

Caleb’s face smashed against your cunt, nuzzling your entirety with vigorous speed and pressure. You couldn't hold back your noises any longer, it was too much. “Ooo” you whine softly, trying to keep composure, “hah, C-Caleb…”

“I'm here babygirl, you're doing so good,” he kissed your open pussy in between every word “getting so wet for us.”

Zayne sinks low, kissing your neck down to your collarbone, and eventually your breast. He sucked your nipple till it was throbbing, then he shifted and did the same to your other. One of his hands even found its way into your hair, keeping your head from tensing up as the pleasure increased.

Your moans grew louder, your pleasured contortions more extreme and involuntary. Caleb edged you to the pinnacle of bliss…then stopped.

Sweaty and tired from your first almost orgasm, you are helpless when the men make up their minds to move you.

Like a rag doll, they maneuver you further up the mattress, adjusting your limbs as they contemplate different positions. You hardly care. All the manhandling was worth it if they fucked you silly.

“On your hands and knees, pipsqueak,” Caleb issued his command in a gentle murmur.

You smile up at them both, their faces beaming down at you from the sky. You use all your strength to roll over and position yourself between them as directed.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” Zayne’s chest heaved, stroking your jaw from where he stood beside the mattress. A cold thumb slipped past your lips, and he pulled your gaze up to meet his, green eyes narrow and lidded, staring right through you. “You’re so beautiful.”

His other hand had been working swiftly in the shadows, releasing his belt to drop his trousers. By the time your head returned to a normal position, Zayne’s lean refined cock was there waiting for you.

You felt Caleb’s hands on your ass, pulling the satin aside to slip two fingers slowly into your quivering hole. As you whimpered, Zayne’s cock teased past your parted lips and entered on the slide of your tongue.

You let him fuck your gaping mouth for a few pumps before wrapping your lips around his girth, keeping suction as you took him deeper with each stroke. The taste was distinct, captivating, and subtly bitter. It lingered on your tongue, a blend of musk and an undertone you couldn't quite place. All three of your movements became synchronized. Every time you pulled back on Zayne’s dribbling dick, Caleb’s fingers plunged deeper inside you.

You wriggled against your boyfriend’s hand, moaning and whining for more.

“You think you’re ready?” Caleb growled, his voice washing over you like a warm blanket, cozy and comforting.

Zayne smiles down at you with empathy, then thrusts deeper down your throat. So far that you’re forced to grunt your reply around his cock, spit and cum bubbling in the corners of your mouth. He tucks your hair out of the way, meeting your sweet eyes as you gaze up at him for guidance and approval.

“She’s ready.” He answers for you.

Your eyes go wide at the feel of something thick and hard pressing against your entrance through the satin.

Caleb slides his swollen head up and down your slit until your pussy is drooling and your hips are shaking with need.

Every whine is met by another thrust from Zayne. He had your hair in a fistful as he lost himself in the rhythm, fucking your face at an even speed.

You moan, elbows buckling, as Caleb’s thick member teases you relentlessly. You wriggle back onto him, desperate and craving his cock.

Sliding the satin aside, he gently widens your vaginal opening with two fingers, preparing you by easing you apart before fully immersing himself.

You arch your head back in ecstasy, allowing Zayne's dick to slip from your lips, a trail of slick desire trickling down your jaw. You couldn't care less. You were utterly captivated by Caleb's rhythmic movements, his firm grip on your hips both intense and purposeful as he drew you more forcefully against him with each powerful thrust.

“A-ah! F-fuck!” You gasp weakly, each breath hitching as you're caught between the lewd slaps of skin against skin.

"Here," Zayne says as he gets onto the mattress and adjusts himself until he is underneath you, "lay your weight on me."

You whimper, and while Caleb doesn't stop, he does adjust to accommodate your movements, shifting with you over the covers before you collapse onto Zayne's chest. The change in angle finally causes his cock to pop free from your pussy.

Both men's groans trigger an involuntary shiver along your spine.

“No, wait,” Caleb pants, crawling over your back until his hair curtains you. Zayne meets his gaze. “Switch me.”

Zayne’s eyebrows raised in a moment of understanding.

“Right.” he agreed.

They both departed from around you in a flurry of motion, leaving you sitting cross-legged atop the covers with your breasts exposed, a confused frown tugging at your brows.

Caleb took the spot on the bed, lying on his back. He slapped his pecs to summon you, a smile plastered across his face.

“Come’ere baby,” he said with glee.

You smile, narrowing your gaze in mock suspicion.

“Just what exactly are you two planning?” you ask as you settle over his hips again, this time with nothing but a slick layer of arousal between you.

Caleb grinned, one large arm reaching around your chest to lower you onto him. Once your head was nestled against his collarbone, he placed a heavy hand over your ear, fingers splayed, muscles taut. You attempt to move, but his strength keeps you firmly in place.

“Caleb?” you wriggle.

“Hold still baby.” he breathed intensely, his words scattered between gasps.

Something was happening, but all you could see was the twitch of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of his chest, and the hardness of his nipple. You tried to sneak your fingers up to tease the rosy mound, but he caught your wrist before you could reach. “Don't,” he growled, “not yet”.

“Ah!” You gasp as you feel the delightful squish of two cum-soaked tips probing at your entrance.

“Ugh, fuck,” Caleb groaned, his eyes rolling back as his dick rubbed on Zaynes, both members twitching against your sex.

“Here,” Zayne offered, guiding Caleb's dick into your slit. “Hold her still.”

Caleb grunted as he reached down to steady your wriggling hips, his laugh tickling your ear.

Zayne cradled Caleb's dick in his hand, poised to sink it into your hole, but then he paused. After a moment of deliberation, he took his other hand and plunged three curved fingers deep inside you, wringing and scooping all your juices into his palm before employing them to lubricate your boyfriend's cock.

“Huh!” Caleb twitched, covering his eyes as if he was embarrassed to witness this pleasure.

You whimper into his sweetly perspiring neck, your hips grinding in the air with needy desire while Zayne uses his hands to prepare you both with meticulous precision. His fingers inside you beckon you closer to the edge of orgasm, and judging by Caleb's ragged breaths tickling your hair, he was precariously close as well.

You jerk forward, free of his surgeon's grip.

“I'm sorry,” Zayne’s touch grazed your thigh in concern, “was I hurting you?”

“No,” You let Caleb pull both your breasts down into his mouth as you catch your breath, trying to find the words. The sensation of your boyfriend's warm, wet mouth on your skin is a soothing balm, allowing you a moment of respite as you attempt to gather your scattered thoughts. The words, however, seem to be just out of reach, the intensity of the experience leaving you momentarily speechless. “I just can't take any more foreplay.” You manage to utter at last.

“Oh," Zayne hummed thoughtfully, and in the silence, you could hear the delicate slip-slaps indicative of the medical student fervently masturbating your boyfriend. His hand on your hip gently directed you down. "Sit," he commanded, his tone growing ragged as he watched you lower your pussy onto Caleb's thick, throbbing dick still held in his hand.

Zayne carefully guides you onto Caleb's engorged member, gradually using both of his hands to grind your hips against Caleb's pelvis until your clit was throbbing.

“Uhn,” you moan loudly, letting Zayne catch you as you fall backward, your core weak.

“Lay forward,” He whispers in your ear, a cool hand flat on your tailbone, steering you into submission as he pushes you onto Caleb once again. You bite your lip as Zayne positions himself behind you.

Caleb began to thrust his hips off the mattress, in small strokes at first, teasing you into a state of delirium.

A sharp stab of pain shot up your backside making you gasp, your body tensing and halting on instinct.

“Relax, Pip,” Caleb's soothing voice lulled you back into a state of calm, as the pressure around your rear entrance gradually increased. “Deep breaths. You're doing so well. Such a good girl.”

“Uhnn!” you cried out, grabbing Caleb’s hand for support as Zayne’s smooth cock breached your asshole.

“Oh fuck,” Zaynes whisper of pleasure was faint, but primal, eliciting a quiver down your spine.

“Go deeper, she can take it,” Caleb said, spreading your asscheeks for Zayne before re-starting his subtle thrusts into your cunt.

You shake your head, eyes misty.

“I d-don’t…ah! K-know…” You squeal as Zayne slides deeper, until you can practically feel both cocks kissing through your walls. The pain subsided, and your hole even relaxed, pulling Zayne deeper in welcome.

“Mhm,” he chuckled, “What were you saying?”

“I told you.” Caleb boasted through a grunt, thrusting a little harder into your fluttering pussy.

You were stretched so wide you wanted to scream, but god it felt so good.

Zayne leaned over your back, locking an arm around you like a seatbelt. Then, slowly, he guided your movements to match his, sliding you up and down Caleb's shaft.

“Just like that,” he hummed in your ear, suckling on your earlobe until you moaned. “Should we make him cum together?”

“You fucker,” Caleb laughed through moans and gasps, his face contouring with pleasure as you and Zayne rode him like a saddle.

The three of you coiled tighter as a unit. Caleb's fist in Zayne's hair, Zayne's fingers in your mouth, your nipples alternating between Caleb's teeth. Your thighs clenched, your muscles spasmed, your body spiraling out of your control.

“Oh…guys…” You say through heavy breaths putting a hand down on Caleb's firm chest to steady yourself, “Uhnn, fuck-”

“You wanna cum first honey?” Caleb asked, kissing your parted, drooling lips with a smile. “I think we can allow that, don't you?”

“I suppose.” The man behind you sighed through a grin, his thrusts growing deeper and harder.

“No,” Caleb put a hand on Zaynes shoulder to stop him, “just sink it in deep. Trust me.”

You could hear Zayne's chuckle, but he followed the suggestion to a tee. Sinking as deep into your rear as he could get himself, his hot balls squished tightly to your ass, resting there atop Caleb's dense sack as both of them soaked you into oblivion.

You wriggled, you writhed, the lack of movement was electrifying and excruciating. Your pussy throbbed, twitched, grabbed, any desperate attempt to get a reaction from them. Slick started to drip down your thighs as your cunt shook and spasmed around their girths. Your abdomen coiled, your womb knotting as your body shuddered in climax. You cried out, but Caleb's strong arms muffled you into his chest. Zayne embraced you from the top, both of them holding you through the tremors of ecstasy, encouraging you with little kisses until your screams and your spasms had subsided.

You went limp, your arms and legs depleted, your pussy bullied numb, your ass throbbing. Even the stars in your eyes pulsated in synch with your thrumming heartbeat, your blood stampeding through your veins as it tried desperately to replenish you.

“Mh-hn” You whimper as Zayne slips out of you, collapsing with a bounce to your left. He pulls you into a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of your languid tongue on his. He wraps you in his arms as Caleb slides himself out of you and snuggles against your back.

Their kisses coat your skin, from your neck, to your arms, your breasts, your hips, covering you completely in tenderness.

“What about you two?” You question, softly tucking back Zayne's hair as he leans in to kiss you once more. His lips are soft and persistent, his breath warm against your skin. The silk of his hair slips through your fingers, his scent enveloping you as you lose yourself momentarily.

Caleb is back to biting your shoulder, rough hands wandering your body, still hungry.

“Awe, she thinks we're done with her.” he snickered, kissing your cheek before whispering into your ear, “Uh-uh.”

“Think of this more as an…intermission.” Zayne grinned deviously, bending to nibble your neck.

Zayne’s teeth grazed your pulse as Caleb’s fingers dug into your hips, dragging you back against the hardened line of his body. Zayne purred, trailing his tongue up your throat to suck at your ear while Caleb’s palm slid lower, fingertips skimming over where you still ached.

"We'll let you catch your breath pipsqueak..." Caleb's voice deepened, his lips brushing against your shoulder as Zayne's hand descended to meet his between your legs. The men intertwined their fingers and began to stimulate your clit in unison. Their harmonized rhythm—Zayne's gentle kisses, Caleb's firm grip—left no doubt in your mind: if this was intermission, the encore was set to destroy you. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself before hearing Caleb's lustful warning; "But then, it's game on."

[lara4eclipze]

— 𝓑utterflies

— ( ⏳️ ) you give me butterflies got me falling in the deep end of your disguise sparred with a hundred lies.

meret manon x fem reader, argument, swearing, hugging, established relationship, cheater!manon, swearing, wc [?], tags listed below

you really didn't want to be the type of person who is possessive nor easily jealous, yet nothing can hide manon's recent suspicious actions — it was at first simple things like going out with her friends or calling them frequently — but then this friend seemed to take all of manon's time

then she changed her password, which was not that big of a deal you can handle it, what hurt you the most was her forgetting very important things to you — like when you planned a date and she didn't even text you where she had been you stayed in that restaurant for 2 hours waiting for manon only to find out she was with that friend again

which leads you to now

"are you serious?!, I waited like a stupid bitch at that restaurant all dolled up, just for you to "forget"?! manon what the fuck!" you were seething all the pent up emotions you had hidden in order to just be with manon now exploding out of you

"and? I told you I was with sophia!" manon retorts, pacing back and forth in your apartment, she smelled like sophia like she had for the past 2 months, "yeah like always" you laugh but without any emotion maybe even mocking yourself

"what's that supposed to mean?" manon looks at you, her gaze speaking truth of her rage — "i mean is that- manon what am i to you?, why do i feel like I'm fighting for your attention, I'm the only one making this relationship work manon" you respond tears start to blur your vision as emotions flow out

the older girl's temper suddenly cools down as she sees you cry, and then it all comes crashing down on her, guilt, regret and self-hatred, how did she end up like this? — why was she busy with another woman when you were there all along waiting for her

"babe, don't cry" manon quickly hugs you as you sob, it felt as if she had killed something, that something was the love you two had poured out for eachother

never in a thousand years would have she guessed that she would do this to you, yet she had to tell you, manon thinks about the words that would leave her mouth in the next second before she stammers, "forgive me, my love"

"i-i cheated, my love i am so sorry" manon stutters as the words get stuck in her throat, she felt your sobs get deeper and more hurt

thoughts flood your mind, maybe you weren't enough?, did you ever show less compassion?, where did you lack?

"was i not enough manon?" you finally mutter to her, you felt so stupid, stupid that you knew something was wrong but chose to stay silent, to stay with her, "no, please don't think that way — i was selfish and wanted more when you had given me everything"

"i love you, y/n please don't leave me, ill change i promise please give me a chance" manon begs as words keep spilling from her mouth, you didn't hear her, all you heard was she needed more and you couldn't give it

it felt all too wrong, sophia who you always knew was a friend was sleeping with manon? your girlfriend — all those nights that you'd wait for manon to come home, cook for her hell even clean for her, yet she still cheated?

you felt betrayed and hurt, you walked to the bedroom and started packing a bag, with your clothes and things, "baby don't leave me" manon pleaded, yet you didnt respond maybe if she did this earlier you wouldve huddled her and comforted her but not anymore

"i need to clear my mind manon, please i can't put up with this bullshit" you whisper afraid of what lies ahead between you two

manon craddles her face, afraid of what she might lose, as she sees you walk away from what once was a place of love now just a painful reminder of what they were

what she has ruined all for a little more attention

[sturnsblogs]

NO TURNING BACK.

Skater!Chris X Favorite!Ex!Reader

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩

The past week had been a mix of texts and moments where Chris had tried, again and again, to break through your walls. You hadn’t talked in three months, and now, here he was—messaging you every day like nothing had changed. But the worst part was, you couldn’t stop yourself from reading his messages, even though you tried not to care.

Monday:

“Hey, what’s up? Wanna hang out? I miss you.”

Tuesday:

“I know you’re probably busy, but I really wanna see you. Just for a bit.”

Wednesday:

“You free tonight? I’m just sitting here thinking about you… feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Thursday:

“I’m not giving up. You know I’d drive to the ends of the earth just to hang out with you for five minutes. C’mon, please?”

Friday:

“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t want to see me, but maybe I’ll just show up anyway. Don’t make me beg. Again.”

And, of course, you gave in. Just like you always did.

You had been trying to keep your distance, trying to be “just friends,” but it felt like every day that passed made it harder to breathe. The way Chris texted you with that sweet persistence, like nothing had changed, it made you start to question if you were doing the right thing. You couldn’t be just friends. Not with him. Not when you missed him too much.

By Friday, you finally gave in. He showed up at your door with that same damn grin, the one you hated and loved in equal measure. He had his skateboard slung over his shoulder like he hadn’t spent the last three months making things complicated between you two.

“Hi, pretty,” Chris said, his voice low and full of that teasing warmth you’d missed.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. “Hello, Chris.”

He didn’t wait for you to say much else before he walked in, sitting down on your couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Care if I smoke in here?” he asked, his fingers already moving to pull out a joint before you even had a chance to respond.

“Chris, no! You can’t smoke in here. That’s like the main fucking rule in this complex,” you protested, half-laughing, half-serious, but he was already lighting it.

He gave you a cocky smile as he exhaled the smoke. “Relax, it’ll be fine. One hit, promise.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected, but your heart was already thumping a little faster than you wanted to admit. The way he just did things—like he owned the place—made it hard to keep your composure.

After a few minutes of him making himself at home, you eventually gave in, following him to the car when he suggested the skate park. “I just wanna show you my new tricks,” he begged, his hand brushing yours just a little too casually as you walked. The familiar touch made you falter, but you pushed it down.

At the skate park, Chris was showing off, like he always did. He was in his element, doing tricks and flipping his skateboard like it was second nature. You leaned against the fence, arms crossed, doing your best not to pay him too much attention. But every time he landed a trick and glanced over at you, it made something in your chest twist.

“You gonna clap or something, or just stand there looking bored?” he teased after landing another flawless trick, skating over to you with a smirk.

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Guess I’ve seen it all before.”

Chris’s expression dropped for a moment, and you could tell the playful spark faded. “Oh. That’s it? No reaction at all?” His voice held a small crack now, softer than usual.

You didn’t realize how much your lack of excitement was getting to him until he stood there, looking slightly hurt. “You really not impressed?” he asked, his usual cockiness slipping.

You shrugged again, trying to play it cool but feeling guilty at the same time. “You’re good, Chris. It’s just… not what I came here for.”

He bit his lip, clearly frustrated, and suddenly dropped his skateboard with a little more force than necessary. “Guess you’re just done with me, huh?” His voice was low, almost like a whisper, but it carried all the hurt you didn’t expect.

You felt the guilt slam into your chest, your breath catching. “What? No, Chris, that’s not it.”

But before you could say anything else, he was walking away, kicking his skateboard in frustration. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced with something you hadn’t seen in a while—something soft and vulnerable.

“Forget it,” he muttered, his back to you now. “You obviously don’t care anymore.”

You rushed after him, your heart pounding as you reached out, grabbing his arm. “Don’t do this,” you said, almost pleading. “I care, I just… I’m not sure how to act anymore.”

Chris shook his head and yanked his arm out of your grip. “It’s fine. You don’t need to pretend.” His eyes were dark, and you could see that familiar pout on his lips—one that was so hard to ignore. “I’m just some guy you hang out with now, right?”

The hurt in his voice twisted something inside of you. “Chris, I’m not saying that. I never stopped caring. It’s just complicated.”

He turned to face you then, his eyes softening just a little. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he whispered. “I want you back, but I feel like I’m always fighting for your attention.”

That was when you realized it—he wasn’t playing a game. He wasn’t being playful anymore. He was serious.

You stepped closer to him, your voice quiet. “I miss you too, okay? I miss us. But we can’t just keep doing this.”

Chris took a step forward, his hand reaching for your face, his fingers brushing against your jaw with a softness you hadn’t felt in months. “Then show me,” he murmured, his face inches from yours. “Show me you care.”

Before you could say anything, he kissed you—slow, tender, like he was trying to put everything he’d been feeling into that one kiss. And for a second, you forgot about everything else. The fight, the distance, the confusion—all of it faded away.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, “I’ve missed you so damn much. Don’t just push me away again.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a breath. “I’m not pushing you away, Chris. But we have to figure this out.”

He smiled softly, and for the first time that day, it felt like you were finally in sync again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩

A/N- yes? no? Give me ideas or requests on what to do for the next part! (i can write blurbs that are out of the story about them and stuff or like you can ask me questions about them)

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl

[moonysunrulytoast]

situations that have happened in my friend group that are marauders & co coded part 1:

dorcas driving, evan passenger princess, sirius in the backseat

sirius: okay so you’re coming to mine?

dorcas: yes. did you call remus to let him know to meet us?

sirius: shit no one sec

sirius : *on the phone* hey i’m so sorry my love but we actually decided to meet at mine and not at the beach anymore

dorcas: *fake vomits*

remus: but i drove out here :((((

sirius: i know babe but ill see you very soon okay?

remus: okay.

sirius : love you!

remus: yeah. yeah. love you too. *hangs up*

cass: you know they aren’t dating?

evan: when will they learn?

cass: i don’t know, i really don’t. and the other one’s even more clueless than that one. no idea how. that one’s in denial but the other one doesn’t even realize there’s something to deny.

sirius: *coughs* ANYWAY so i’ll meet y’all at mine?

evan: YES sirius

sirius: cool. i was just checking

evan: we’re stopping by mine first though so i can drop off xeno’s bong

sirius: what happened to yours?

evan: broke it after barty and i broke up last. kinda crashed out.

sirius: riiiight. and remus and i are the complicated ones.

evan: never said you were complicated. just stupid. and blind.

sirius: OKAY anyway. *pats down pockets* do i have everything?

cass: looks like it.

sirius: bye! *runs across street to car*

sirius: *unlocks car, goes to pull up maps*

sirius: *realizes the lump in his pocket is box of cigarettes and not his phone*

sirius: shit. shit shit shit. i don’t know where i am. how am i gonna get home?

sirius: oh my god i’ve been using apple pay. i don’t have my wallet either. how will i LEAVE the parking garage???

sirius: *runs out and frantically searches for dorcas’s car…no one’s there*

sirius: well i guess this is my life now

sirius: *ransacks car for coins and finds $2.47*

sirius: well.. i can only hope for the best.

5 MINUTES LATER

sirius: parking was only $2??? this is fine!! i can find my way home! idk why i doubted myself.

FORTY FIVE MINUTES LATER

sirius: okay so i might be lost… none of these streets look familiar and… FUCK my gas’s gauge is on E and i don’t have gas money oh my god

(sirius parks at a nearby store and asks a girl for directions. she smiles at him and helps him out. he realizes he’s 25 miles away from home. on empty. in orange county. when he’s supposed to be in LA. he thanks her, goes back to his car, and kicks the wheel)

sirius: well.

sirius: we can only hope for the best now.

(sirius then spends the next 40 minutes bargaining with the universe to let the gas make it home- because he’s too pretty to be stuck on the side of the freeway at 10pm on a friday)

FORTY MINUTES LATER

(sirius speeds home and SOMEHOW runs out of gas right as he pulls into his driveway)

dorcas: HOLY SHIT WE THOUGHT WE LOST YOU. OH MY GOD.

sirius: how long have you been here?

evan: a little over an hour

dorcas: oh thank GOD you’re okay here we have james on the phone (dorcas hands her phone to sirius- who takes it urgently)

sirius: james???

james: what the fuck is going on??

sirius: i got lost. but im back!! no worries. you’re with lily right? helping her move her stuff?

james: yeah- they called me. you got lost again??? how??? you know what? i don’t wanna know. you’re okay?

sirius: yeah i’m okay prongs

james: okay see you later pads. love you

sirius: love you! *hands phone back to cass, notices remus*

sirius: oh when did you get here love?

remus: not long after they did- we’ve been hanging in cass’s car.

sirius: WELL LET ME TELL YOU IT HAS BEEN AN INTERESTING NIGHT

remus: (to cass, a fond smile breaking out on his face) what did i say?? there’s a story. there’s always a story.

sirius: well YEAH there was a story. i was MISSING

remus: (to sirius) you ran out of gas didn’t you

sirius: I RAN OUT OF- oh yeah i did. haha. how’d you know that?

remus: thought as much

cass: (to remus) you were… very spot on lupin

remus: (to cass) things always work out for him, but only after spiraling out of control. i don’t know how. he’s somehow the luckiest and least lucky person i know.

cass: (to sirius) …. i called everyone.

sirius: shit. everyone??? oh god.

cass: reg might have freaked out and almost left work to find you

sirius: oh god. you called reg??? he’s gonna lecture me when he gets home.

remus: yeah. he will. if it helps i did tell them not to

sirius: damn it. he’s gonna be so mad. this is the second time i’ve gotten lost this year. it doesn’t help we were hanging out without him- he can be so territorial with you guys

remus: he asked if you were drinking

sirius: (aghast) WELL! I NEVER!! how dare he??? i got lost because im dumb not because i’m crazy

evan: we smoked a spliff on the street ten minutes before we left

sirius: shut UP rosier

remus : *smirks* sounds about right

sirius: i was NOT high!!

remus: why was your gas so low in the first place?

sirius: i was late to the hangout- planned on getting gas on the way back

cass: GOD you’re ridiculous

sirius: well how was i supposed to- wait, why’d you call prongs?

evan: we thought he’d know your phone password- then maybe we could track your keys and find you.

cass: your keys are tracked right? since you lose everything all the time?

sirius: oh my god i didn’t even think of that

evan: on that same note- why didn’t you call your own phone?

sirius: what?

evan: you could’ve called your phone with someone elses? then we could’ve come found you??

sirius: oh. oh i didn’t think of that

cass: hoW did you not think of that???

sirius: i asked to use someone’s apple maps!!

cass: you- you asked-? but you didn’t? okay. from the beginning- what happened???

sirius: well let me tell you- follow me we’ll go inside.

———————————————————————

How the rest of the night went is below (it’s less interesting, just was kind of domestic and oddly on brand so i thought i’d tell you how it went down)

(sirius unlocks the door and plugs in the lights while he continues telling his story ~dramatically~. when he finishes the whole group laughs about it for a bit before evan starts looking antsy.)

evan: alright we better go. if i get home too late barty gets grumpy

sirius: oh?

evan: yeah. he’s secretly kind of a brat

cass: it’s not a secret

evan: *sighing dramatically* take me home?

cass: of course. *cass turns to sirius as she stands up from the couch* we’ll hang again soon for sure

evan: yeah *evan nods at sirius* you’re actually pretty cool black, when you’re not getting lost in the middle of nowhere that is

sirius: (huffing) okay yeah yeah ha ha get out of my house

cass: (to remus, ignoring sirius completely) always good to see you remus *cass smiles warmly*

remus: you too cass

evan: yeah- nice to see you again lupin

(remus nods and sirius walks them out)

remus: so… just us again i guess

sirius: it does always seem to end up this way huh?

remus: yeah- funny that

sirius: (smirking) i heard you went birding earlier *sirius shakes his head at remus fondly* how was your-

(peter all of the sudden rushes through the door, singing a tune softly to himself)

peter: oh hey guys! oh- moony! i didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight!

remus: when am i not here?

sirius: (to remus, indignant) hey! that’s not fair! it’s been at least a week since you were last here. not since you picked me up from the airport last saturday!

remus: yeah. wild that. a full week. who’d have thought it possible? *remus smiles at sirius fondly*

peter: ahem. *peter clears his throat as he shucks off his shoes at the door* well! i���m just getting back from a show. actually, if you two want to come by and see me do some standup soon i’m performing next tuesday! neither of you have seen my set yet.

sirius: (to remus) ooooh he’s funny *sirius wiggles his eyebrows and peter rolls his eyes. remus fights back a smile*

remus: tuesday you say?

sirius: (to peter in a singsong voice) we’ll have to seeeee

peter: *snorts* okay well if you two decide to drive to new mexico or something tonight let me know. don’t wanna be left out of your tomfoolery.

sirius: tomfoolery?? us??? *sirius gasps, clutching his chest and peter rolls his eyes again*

peter: oh please.

remus: (to sirius) he’s got a point you know. you and i are a dangerous team. always ready to run off.

sirius: i suppose.

peter: whatever- just keep me posted if you do go anywhere *peter goes upstairs*

sirius: (to remus) my room?

remus: your room.

(sirius and remus follow peter upstairs and lay on sirius’s bed facing each other & talking for two hours before the front door opens and shuts again)

remus: okay so what would you say makes a bad person a bad person? like what’s the line?

sirius: oh so we’re going ethics now oka-

(reg knocks on the open door and stands in the doorway of sirius’s room)

reg: so you got lost. again.

sirius: (pulling away a bit from remus and sitting up) oh! reg! yeahhh. it’s okay though! it’s actually a really funny story-

reg: i had to go on break

sirius: what do you mean?

reg: i told my coworkers you were missing and then had to go on break

sirius: awe reg you do care

reg: no i don’t

sirius: (singsong voice) you were worried about me!

reg: i was WORRIED that i was going to have to file a missing person’s report.

sirius: whatever you say-

remus: (sitting up and sensing a pointless argument) it was fine though! everything worked out.

sirius: yeah!

(reg looks at each of them for a moment before sighing, resigned)

reg: you wouldn’t believe the night i’ve had

remus: oh?

reg: (undoing his tie) the event tonight was INSANE. a catholic school parents’ event. we’ve never sold that much alcohol in one night. AND it was only mary and i at the bar!

sirius: oh wow

reg: right? and the whole time dedalius *sirius mouths “his manager” to remus while reg keeps going* was just WATCHING US, only interrupting ONCE to ask if we need help the useless bastard. so naturally i asked him if he could cut some limes since we didn’t have a barback and get this, when he cut the limes he brought ALL of them to the upstairs bar with emmaline and gilderoy. left none for us.

sirius: that’s annoying. intense night huh?

reg: so many little things. it was just so IRRITATING. now it’s 1am and i have the be BACK at the event space at 9am. ugh i need to sleep

remus: damn reg- i hope you sleep well at least!

reg: oh i won’t be sleeping

sirius: (to remus) he never sleeps (whispering) insomnia

reg: (unimpressed) well if you guys want to smoke outside i’m gonna go do that.

sirius: nah i don’t think so

remus: ahh no not today

reg: okay. well. come join me if you want.

(reg walks away. there’s the sound of a screen door opening and closing in the background)

remus: hey- at least the lecture was brief

sirius: (fondly staring out of his door) he’s a hateful little guy isn’t he?

remus: yeah. he is

sirius: ANYWAY (starts up past conversation)

FIVE MINUTES LATER

sirius: so in a way the answer is, as many other answers to ethical questions are, “it depends” and that’s-

(reg walks up and leans against the wall for a moment before stepping forward, interrupting sirius)

reg: so neither of you came out to sit with me.

sirius: *sirius is visibly startled before pouting* it’s colddd reg. and you didn’t Ask us to!

remus: (to reg) wait i didn’t realize you wanted us to sit with you. thought you were just being polite.

sirius: *snorts* reg?? polite?? hah!

reg: (to sirius) are you quite finished?

(sirius smiles sheepishly and reg looks at him for a moment before looking to remus and speaking)

reg: (raising an eyebrow) you two sure have been spending a lot of time together

sirius: (reddens slightly) haha yeah

remus: yeah, we have *remus smiles like this delights him, unaware of sirius’s embarrassment*

reg: (somehow both amused and annoyed- something only sirius can pull off with him) it’s just….we were gonna do that puzzle together remember? the big one downstairs? i found a frame for it so we could glue it down.

sirius: oh my god yeah! *sirius feigns interest for remus’s & reg’s sakes* i completely forgot about that!

remus: that sounds great! i’ve been wanting to puzzle

reg: (feigning disinterest) well i’ve just been waiting for you guys to ask about it. since you’re always doing something together these days.

sirius: (face noticeably more red this time) hah ha yeah

remus: (unbothered) so when are you free??

reg: i’ll text you. night.

sirius: good night reggie!!

remus: night reg!

(regulus backs out and swiftly walks away. shutting his bedroom door behind him. remus and sirius lay back down and talk facing each other, hands under their cheeks for two more hours)

remus: (yawning) i should really go home

sirius: yeah it’s pretty late. there’s a lot going on tomorrow. lily’s moving out of state officially

remus: oh shit i bet james is freaked

sirius: yeah. i’m staying with him tomorrow night to make sure he’s okay

remus: that’s… that’s good. that’ll be good.

remus: (cautiously) do you think it’s hurting reg’s feelings? you moving out of here and in with prongs now that lily’s going to grad school?

sirius: maybe. but i really think he’ll like the new roommate i found, pandora. they have a lot of similar interests and she’s… different. i think they’ll fit together. plus we need some space i think- we tend to suffocate each other a bit. i have a good feeling about it.

(they walk down to the front door together)

remus: well… i’ll see you monday!

sirius: yeah :) definitely. thank you so much for that by the way

remus: of course! i’m actually kind of looking forward to it

sirius: (bemused) oh really? you’re looking forward to helping me move?

remus: (quietly) maybe.

remus: (a little embarrassed) i’m excited to drive the big truck okay? is that a crime?

(remus and sirius look at each other for a moment. sirius shakes his head and smiles going in to hug remus. remus hugs back)

remus: (a little awkwardly) i have to uhh leave now. to go home

sirius: (chuckling) yeah. you do that.

remus: (walking backward) right.

sirius: (smiling softly again) goodnight moony :) *sirius closes the door*

remus: (quietly) good night pads.

[dee-writes-anime]

We Are Actually Meant to Name It?! With Yuta Okkotsu

FEATURING Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

SUMMARY In which you tell Yuta that your baby still does not have a name and he responds by trying to name the baby after his mentor

CONTENT WARNINGS mild panic descriptions from Yuta, fluff and cuteness

AUTHORS NOTE my grand return has arrived! And on a day where I am procrastinating a final of course! I'll hopefully be back to a "normal" (for me anyway) schedule these days so please feel free to leave behind some requests! <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Yuta Okkotsu was a lot of things—Jujutsu sorcerer, second-year mentor, all-around kind guy—but prepared for fatherhood? That was a different story entirely. Sure, he was excited. Thrilled, even. But the reality of it all still hadn’t fully settled in, even though you were heavily pregnant and waddling around the house like a determined penguin.

Which brought him to his current predicament.

You stood before him, one hand resting on your very round belly, the other rubbing slow circles on your lower back. Your face was calm, a little too calm, as if you weren’t about to drop life-changing news on him like a bomb.

“We still haven’t thought of a name,” you said.

Yuta blinked. Then again, harder this time, as if that would help process the words.

A name?

A name.

“For the baby? Our baby?” His voice cracked slightly, and the air in the room seemed to thin as panic set in.

“Yes, Yuta. For the baby. Our child. The small human I am about to push out of my body any day now.” Your words were patient, but your raised eyebrow suggested you were very aware of the way his brain was currently short-circuiting.

Yuta let out a noise—somewhere between a wheeze and a strangled gasp—and gripped the back of the couch for support. “Oh my God. Oh my God. We were supposed to name it?!”

You sighed. “Yes, Yuta. That is generally how babies work.”

Yuta’s hands went to his hair, pulling slightly at the dark strands as his eyes darted around the room, as if inspiration for a name might be hidden in the corners of your apartment. “I—I thought maybe it just… came with one? Like, when it arrives? The hospital hands you a certificate with a name on it?”

You gave him a flat look. “Like a Build-A-Bear?”

“YES! NO—wait, I mean—no, I didn’t think that! But maybe subconsciously?!”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Yuta. We are about to have a baby. A real, living, breathing baby. And that baby needs a name. A name that we, as responsible parents, must come up with.”

Yuta took a deep breath and nodded, shaking out his hands like he was about to perform an exorcism. “Okay. Right. A name. We can do this. We’re responsible adults.”

You side-eyed him. “One of us just had a minor existential crisis over the idea that babies don’t come with pre-installed names.”

He waved you off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m back in it. I’m focused.” He smacked his cheeks. “Okay. What about… Yuta Jr.?”

You stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?!”

“I love you, Yuta, but we are not naming our baby Yuta Jr.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. What about something cool? Like… Gojo?”

“Do you really want Gojo to think we named our child after him?”

Yuta visibly shuddered. “You’re right. He’d never let us live it down.”

You both stood in silence for a moment before Yuta snapped his fingers. “Okay! What if we name them after someone we admire? Like Nanami?”

You tilted your head in consideration. “That’s actually not bad. But what if it’s a girl?”

Yuta gasped. “Nanami-chan.”

“…We are not calling her Nanami-chan.”

More silence. More intense thinking. More Yuta looking like he was trying to solve the mysteries of the universe.

“What about something simple? Like Aoi?” you suggested.

Yuta immediately frowned. “You mean, like, after Toudou? No way. Next thing you know, he’ll be showing up uninvited, calling himself the baby’s uncle, and trying to instill his ‘best friend’ philosophy.”

You shuddered at the thought. “Good point.”

Yuta groaned, slumping onto the couch, dramatically dragging his hands down his face. “This is impossible. How do people do this?”

“They plan ahead, Yuta.”

“Okay, yeah, that would have been the smart thing to do.”

Another long pause. Then, suddenly, you gasped, grabbing his hand.

Yuta shot up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “What?! Are you okay?! Is it happening?!”

“No, no, false alarm.” You waved him off before placing his palm against your stomach. “The baby just kicked really hard.”

Yuta’s panic melted into pure wonder as he felt the movement beneath his hand. His heart clenched in his chest, a lump forming in his throat. “Whoa… our baby’s strong.”

You smiled. “Yeah. Just like their dad.”

He exhaled, rubbing slow circles over your stomach. “We’ll figure out a name.”

“You sure?”

Yuta nodded, his panic finally settling into something softer, more grounded. “Yeah. We’ve got this.” Then, after a beat, he added, “But if it’s a boy, we’re absolutely not naming him after Gojo.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

A few days later, you found yourself cradling a tiny bundle in your arms, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones but warmth flooding your heart. Your baby girl blinked up at you with sleepy, dark eyes, completely unaware of the absolute disaster her father was currently making of naming her.

Yuta, standing at your bedside, had a look of pure determination. “Okay, hear me out. What about… Thunderstrike?”

You closed your eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. “Yuta.”

“Or—or maybe something elegant! Like… Moonshadow?”

You gave him a slow, exhausted blink. “Are we naming a baby or adopting a warrior cat?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Okay, okay, no Moonshadow. How about… Excalibur?”

You groaned, grabbing a notepad from the bedside table and, without a word, scribbling something down.

Yuta leaned over, peering at the paper. “‘Aishiteru’…?”

You smiled softly. “It means ‘I love you.’”

His breath hitched, and suddenly all the ridiculous names he’d been suggesting melted away. Yuta reached out, brushing a gentle finger against your daughter’s tiny hand, his voice hushed with awe. “Aishiteru…”

You glanced up at him. “You like it?”

Yuta swallowed thickly, then nodded. “I love it.”

And just like that, your little girl had a name.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[slaaverin]

get so tired of this bull

Why does JK attending a concert have to be about shipping. He’s been to numerous concerts, is he dating all of them?

I literally saw a tik tok that Said the hat he was wearing can only be bought in Japan, and that Lisa has bought it for him, and he was off because she is home in Korea

I saw another who is insisting he is dating Jennie’s model friend, and she is the one in the leaked videos of him.

Then of course Winkook shippers because he attended their concert.

How does him attending a concert in 2023 and her being there make them a thing, or matching phone cases, or her saying bow wow on an instagram post when she’s wearing a hat with dog ears. She’s five or six years his junior for goodness sake.

It’s just exhausting and ridiculous

You’ve got the y/n crowd running to make it happen to prove it

You’ve got the cult trying to fight it, and you’ve got insecure jkks running to blogs to be like.. I really think winkook is real bc he attended a concert and they were at golden party and they wear matching hats, blah blah blah

Literally all the ‘evidence’ of Jikook and some beautiful posts being written in the last week about their bond and something like this happens and it’s like ppl are shitting all over it. It’s so frustrating.

Now I’m dreading memories because there is bound to be something that ‘disproves’ Jikook or whatever in there. Their solo era they obviously didn’t see eo, or other members being there for them not each other. I can feel the fights now, and it’s a few weeks away. 🙄

I hate people I really do

Let them yap.

Anon, it's hopeless.

Everyone has a different point of view and there's nothing we can do about it.

I stopped caring a long time ago.

Yeah, it still sucks.

But you know whaaat? My little finger tells me that yes there might be things they will hold onto in Memories, possibly, but if we look at the other Memories over the years, there's been a lot of jikook in them too.

Like everyone has this narrative about 2023 which I don't personally agree with.

I predict a surprise or two in there 🤭

Jikook always do surprising things.

I might be wrong but let's see if I'm right.

I will hold on to this tiny speck of hope because I have this feeling...that we won't be disappointed. There will be something in there.

Let's wait & see and cross our fingers.

In the meantime let's keep a cool head and take things calmly.

Deep breaths anon, it's going to be ok.

Overanalyzing has always happened and will always happen in this fandom.

We don't need to convince anyone.

When your fandom experience and worries becomes more about what other people are saying than your own relationship and feelings about the content and people you're stanning, maybe it's best to take a step back and cater things better so it might become fun again for you.

Did you guys know this whole thing is supposed to be fun? I know many people forgot but...

I'm personally excited about Memories. We're gonna see the members! Nice! And possibly some jikook! Nice! That's it.

Anon, despite all the hate, drama, and noise, I hope you will get to enjoy it too 💜