#not sure if it was meant to be taken seriously or not but here we are

[eightsixtiism]

As a Max fan, I do admit that Max isn't perfect and I absolutely adored Lando before especially with his friendship with Max and Carlos. Lando is getting hated mainly because of the things he says and some of his actions. One was the trump thing, second, was when Max was congratulating him and he decided to snitch despite the race being over (not a big issue for me personally cause all drivers snitch). Third is the way he acted when he won the Dutch GP especially when he decided to use Max's catchphrase (I know it wasn't Max's before), most of us found it rude especially since well max's catchphrase and Lando saying that seemed as if he was mocking Max and the worst thing was it was Max's home race. Fourth, the cooldown with Lewis when Lew was merely being nice and he decided to somewhat insult him (I feel insulted despite Lewis saying it was fine). Fifth, When he called Max's win in Brazil luck not talent, I mean luck was a part of it but talent had a much larger contribution. Sixth, when McLaren fucked up and he made his engineer beg for Lando to give the place back to Oscar despite him being only there because McLaren fucked up and Iscar was doing an excellent job defending (Fuck Mclaren strategy tbh). Seventh, podium in Hungary ('twas fucked up) Oscar couldn't even enjoy his win because Lando was the center of attention despite Osc having a phenomenal drive. Eight, when Oscar had to give up a win (it was a sprint but it was still a win) just for him to lose big time from Max. Ninth, when Oscar once again had to back off to give Lando a chance to catch up to Max but he couldn't pass Charles. Tenth, this is mostly due to how the FIA has been acting. They have been acting like a knight and shining armor for Lando, especially during the quali. This is not hate, I do think he is a contender for this season, the way he's been acting is somewhat the problem. (I think I have more but this is enough lmao)

there's a lot to be covered here so i'll answer the ones that caught my eye.

3) now that i've thought about it, i'd understand why max fans in particular would be mad about it. max coined the phrase, his friend essentially used it to take a dig at him. me personally, if this is what you're getting so seriously pressed about then i actually don't know what to say. this is a sport, shithousery will ensue between friends, enemies, acquaintances— everybody. it's not like lando completely ridiculed and encouraged any more hate towards max; i don't know if i can say the same for max, though.

4) that one i felt taken aback by it too. don't know why he said that, it's definitely something he could've avoided saying. but if lewis isn't bothered about it, i'm not going to be. if he was, i certainly would be and will hold lando accountable (i still do anyways)

5) this is so palpably hearsay and i cannot believe you still think this. at this point, i feel like a broken radio trying to reason with you guys and tell you that that is not what he meant. i'm sure you've come across people explaining what the actual meaning is, so let's not sit here and still believe this foolishness. if, for some reason, you still don't get it, there's a post here that explains it perfectly.

6 and 7) you are talking all about unrightful lando wins, but didn't lando have to give his place up for oscar? oscar didn't overtake lando by his own will and win, so why won't we use that against oscar? some people do, but we all know it was mclaren's fault for putting them in that position. they could've easily let them stay where they are and fight for p1, but they didn't and that is how it panned out. after them guilt tripping lando into giving the place back, are we still blaming lando for this? i know you shouldn't be because as you said, 'fuck mclaren strategy'.

8) mclaren were seemingly championship contending... up until they claimed they weren't after the brazil gp (honestly, odds were stacking up against them that they weren't because they kept fucking up more than they should've). i can tell you are either quite ignorant or haven't been a fan for long, because it seems you are too used to someone winning the championship by their own merit because of the very pitiful gap in performance between the red bull drivers, but forget that many championships have been won with the help of teammates, one of the most infamous being lewis and valterri. oscar giving up his place was to help lando (who's higher in the standings between the 2) get more points and close the gap. it wasn't a rightful sprint win, we are all aware, but that's how this sport works.

10) i was going to go hell on this take, but @landhoe-norris worded it perfectly in their post:

"Imagine thinking that an organisation that rigged a race so that your favourite drivers would win a championship, an organisation that has allowed him to run other drivers off the track for the past three years without repercussions, is now being biased against him because he ‘has the wrong passport’ when in all seriousness your favourite driver is the epitome of ‘white privilege’ and has been since he stepped into the sport."

there's nothing more for me to say.

all in all, lando is not as bad as you guys make him out to be. if anything, max, in my opinion, is worse. and looks like he'll always be.

[geoanomaly]

Repostober, Day 31

Dragon #5 Digital Drawn July 2023

[maidenvault]

During my last rewatch of the prequels I was actually shocked by how much I've misremembered or decontextualized certain moments in my mind because of how they're often talked about in fandom as showing the Jedi as too arrogant, too bureaucratic, generally just burying their heads in the sand while everything goes bad etc. So I'm gonna try to address every individual scene that typically gets brought up to argue that this is an actual theme in Lucas's portrayal of the Order.

The Council doesn't take Qui-Gon's account of meeting a Sith seriously.

Mace and Ki Adi Mundi do both express doubt this guy could be a Sith. (Understandably! Historically they've never known Sith to be able to hide their existence, and for them to have survived totally in secret for a thousand years is a pretty wild thing for Qui-Gon to be so sure of.)

BUT Yoda admits that the dark side is hard to see, and Mace assures Qui-Gon they'll do everything to find out the identity of the attacker. Later he's ordered to go back to Naboo and try to draw out Maul to discover more. Qui-Gon accepts this and doesn't ask for backup. Why should he? He held his own against Maul before, and Maul's probably not gonna show himself again to face a ton of Jedi. They end up missing the chance to learn who trained Maul because of how things go down, but Qui-Gon's death isn't the result of the Council mishandling the situation.

At the funeral, Yoda says the presence of one Sith means there's another out there. They know they've got to be on guard now and will be, but they've got no more leads for now.

2. Qui-Gon's not here to free slaves.

There's this idea that slavery existing on Tatooine shows the Order is apparently too tied up doing shady things for self-interested politicians (footage not found) to help the people who really need it. But Padme's shocked to know the Skywalkers are slaves for a reason. The truth is there isn't a lot of slavery in the galaxy at this time because the Jedi have helped keep it that way for centuries only by working with the Republic. In TCW we see that Zygerrian slavers have a particular hatred of Jedi because they're literally The Anti Slavery People and did so much of the work to crack down on their trade. But Tatooine is controlled by the Hutts and they simply don't have the resources to start a war with them.

(And honestly, it's crazy how people talk like Qui-Gon's a monster for honestly and apologetically telling Anakin no, that's not why he's here. This is a child he's already indebted to and who has a hero-worshipping idea of Jedi, it would be fucked up for him not to be clear about how he can't help him and his mom.)

3. They doubt Dooku could be behind the assassination attempt.

This I understand shows the Jedi to be a little naive. But they knew Dooku as a good man, and at this point he and his followers are still putting on a show of wanting to secede for idealistic reasons (and a few of them, manipulated by Dooku, actually do have good intentions). Only later do the Jedi learn they're illegally building an army before they've even officially left the Republic and clearly have no interest in the peaceful resolution Padme's been advocating for. And they only find this out because they have Obi-Wan investigate the assassin and this very quickly leads him to Dooku.

4. "Arrogance, yes. A trait more and more common among Jedi. Even the older, more experienced ones."

In context, this line from Yoda is clearly not meant to be taken so seriously. Obi-Wan says he fears Anakin is too arrogant, and this is Yoda's light-hearted way of telling him not to be so hard on him. Part of training a Padawan is learning to trust them so they can grow, and Obi-Wan perhaps needs the reminder that he isn't done learning himself.

Of course Yoda saying this could be partly motivated by them having been caught off guard before by the existence of Darth Maul and the dark side clouding their awareness, as we're told repeatedly throughout the PT they know is a problem. But it's kind of contradictory to take this as confirmation that this is a serious fatal flaw of theirs. If someone acknowledges their own arrogance then they're aware of their ability to be wrong, which means they can't actually be that arrogant. If truly meant in a general sense and not just as a gentle reproof of Obi-Wan, it's a pretty self-deprecating comment coming from Yoda.

5. "If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist."

Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu gives this haughty response to Obi-Wan looking for Kamino, a system that's not in the Jedi Archives. So being so overly confident in the infallible knowledge of the Jedi, he takes her word for it and totally drops this lead.

Except no, he goes to someone older and wiser to figure out what this actually means. And he and Yoda are forced to conclude that the unthinkable - a trusted person among them somehow had reason to erase information from the archive - must nonetheless be what happened. This is honestly an exception that proves the rule: Kamino, and we can assume only Kamino, is missing from the archive only because it was removed, which is so suspicious it just shows he must be on the right track to discovering something. Jocasta is kind of snooty about it but theirs obviously is supposed to be one of the most accurate and complete databases in the galaxy.

6. Obi-Wan doesn't believe what Dooku tells him about the Senate.

For one thing, in this conversation Dooku's lying about basically everything but this. And I can't ever stress enough that Palpatine is a threat unlike anything the Jedi have ever dealt with before, who's already taken control of so much before they even know they're fighting anything, so the idea that a Sith is controlling the Senate would be really hard for anyone to believe.

Still, we know Obi-Wan reports this to the Council anyway. But it's a vague statement and they still don't have any information to act on. Palpatine soon has them very busy putting out fires in the war, and naturally fighting the Separatists who are led by Sith seems the best way for them to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on with the dark side. And they do finally turn their attention to how power-hungry Palpatine is getting once the war is nearly over and they've got the bandwidth for it, and think about what they might have to do if he's the threat to their democracy they fear, but of course he's too many steps ahead of them all the time.

---

So basically, what we see the Jedi being so guilty of in these examples are thought crimes. When confronted with the crazy explanation that happens to be true, their instinctive reaction is "No, I don't think that's possible." And then they do their due diligence to uncover as much of the truth as they can anyway. And Yoda, the Grand Master of them all, is often the first to admit that their first assumptions could be wrong. But Palpatine wouldn't be a good villain if his moves were predictable and he couldn't get an advantage over the good guys - that's just how storytelling works sometimes and it's not that deep.

It honestly felt stupid typing so much of this out because it's 90% just describing what actually happens in these scenes. But I guess it's a lot to ask that people actually carefully watch the films they discuss. 😒

[melzula]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Zuko go on a run for supplies .Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Zuko gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Zuko later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

a/n: ty for requesting and hope you enjoy anon !

summary: zuko apologizes and receives something in return

What was meant to be a simple trip into town for supplies had quickly turned into a disaster, and Zuko believed it was your recklessness to blame.

You’d been too preoccupied in admiring a local merchant’s vast collection of sea shells to notice the Fire Nation soldier creeping up behind you, and if not for Zuko shoving you out of the way to take on the man himself you surely would have been burnt alive. Your failure to stay aware of your surroundings and lackadaisical attitude had almost gotten you killed, and the Prince made sure to point this out to you afterward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He scolds you after dragging you out of the marketplace by the arm and back towards camp.

“I was looking at shells, actually, before you so rudely interrupted,” you correct with an impatient roll of your eyes, but the act only seems to annoy him further.

“This isn’t a game, y/n! We didn’t come here to mess around, we came to quickly get more food and go, and we couldn’t even do that because you were too busy looking at stupid shells to notice your surroundings! You could have been hurt or worse!”

“Relax, ‘your highness,’” you dismiss him defensively, harshly yanking your arm away from his grasp. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. I’m fine. You need to stop overreacting and leave me alone!”

Zuko watches with a scowl as you stomp away from him and towards your tent, ignoring the quizzical looks your friends send your way as you shut the flaps closed.

“What’s her problem?” Toph asks with a raised brow from her spot beside the campfire.

“What did you do?” Katara snaps at the boy with an accusatory glare.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zuko exclaims defensively. “As a matter of fact, I just saved her life and now she’s mad at me!”

“Saved her life? What happened out there?” Aang questions with a worried frown. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A Fire Nation soldier snuck up on her while she was distracted and was about to strike before I pushed y/n out of the way and fought him myself.”

“So… what you’re saying is you guys didn’t get any food?” Sokka notes dejectedly only to receive a scolding smack upside the head from his sister.

“If you saved her life, then why is she so upset?”

“I may have been a bit harsh with her after,” Zuko admits reluctantly, awkwardly grasping at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I was just frustrated that she wasn’t taking her own safety seriously.”

“Look, that’s just how y/n is sometimes. She’s too trusting of her surroundings sometimes, but you have to gently remind her to be careful,” Sokka explains to his friend. “Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at her she would have taken you seriously.”

“Just give her some time to cool off and apologize later,” Katara advises the fire bender. “She just needs her space.”

Frustrated, Zuko lets out a long sigh before ultimately relenting. Katara is right. He just needs to give you some space to process before bothering you again.

By nightfall the moon has risen in the sky and the rest of your group has called it a day, retreating to their tents to sleep and rest for whatever tomorrow may bring. You still haven’t set foot out of yours since Zuko yelled at you, and the Prince has spent the better half of his day groveling outside waiting for you to emerge. He’s beginning to grow impatient, but he’s also extremely worried. You missed dinner, and no one has been able to get you to come out.

Deciding enough is enough, Zuko takes it upon himself to barge into your tent and check on you. Better you be mad at him for invading your space without permission than for something to be wrong with you without anyone knowing.

When he enters your tent the last thing he expects to find is your figure curled up in your sleeping bag crying. Your body trembles under the blankets and your quiet sniffles are the only sound in the space. If you notice his presence you don’t acknowledge it, and Zuko hesitates before carefully sitting himself beside you.

“Y/n?” He calls out softly, gently pulling the covers back to get a look at your face. Water marks line across your cheeks from tears that had managed to dry off your skin, and it takes you a moment to finally meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for making you mad,” you whisper meekly, voice cracking with effort after hours of minimal use.

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I should be apologizing for how I acted,” he assures you sincerely, carefully wiping away your remaining tears. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just worried about your safety- I’m not sure what I would have done if something bad had happened to you.”

“You really mean that?” You sniffle, looking up at him with doubt clear in your eyes.

“Of course I do. I know it probably didn’t seem that way when I was yelling at you, but I’ve come to care a lot for you, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I didn’t know…” you murmur quietly as you carefully sit up from your sleeping bag to reach eye level with the Prince. “I always figured you just saw me as some annoying girl you had to babysit.”

“Well, maybe at first,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle only to immediately stop when he catches your unamused glare, “but now I look forward to being sent to the market with you. I enjoy your company even if it means having to be more vigilant of our surroundings on your behalf. Can you just promise me that next time you’ll be a little more careful?”

“I promise,” you nod earnestly and, much to Zuko’s surprise, pull him in for a tight hug. He stiffens at first, unsure how to react to the close contact, but eventually he’s able to allow himself a chance to enjoy your warmth and reciprocate your embrace.

Only you could have the grumpy Prince wrapped so tightly around your finger.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 04 - Nipple Sucking]

Pairing: Brat to Good Boy!Jungkook x Mommy Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: nipple sucking, breast worship, thigh grinding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cumming in his pants, subby boy tears, drool, he accidentally bruises her nipple from being too eager, he is a lil brat at the beginning and bites her nipples jfsdjf, masochist!Jungkook, tongue spanking, hair pulling, subspace, cuddling & praises for aftercare

Wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: this is inspired by anonie’s idea this was actually not planned to be included in kinktober at first but i suddenly felt the unbearable urge to write this and so i did <3 have fun besties i’m a whore for him

You and Jungkook have been arguing. It wasn’t a terrible fight, nor a very burdening one, but it was still a fight. You say that Jungkook was in your magic kitchen and messed up the papers on your desk, while he insists that it wasn’t him. You know for a fact however that it was him and that he is being stubborn. You know because you noticed the ink stain on his shirt from accidentally dunking it into your inkpot. 

“I don’t understand why you want to keep up this stubborn farce.” 

“It’s not a farce, it’s fact. I didn’t mess up your papers.”

“So you were in my magic kitchen?” 

“Ye- No? No, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Mhm sure and I’m the queen of the moon.” 

Jungkook huffs out air, pouting. 

“Even if I was, theoretically, it doesn’t mean I was the one who messed up your papers. Maybe they were already messed up when I got there.” 

“We’ve been over this, Kookie. How the hell did the ink stain get on your shirt then?” 

“It’s from the love letters I was writing to you.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you. Flirting isn’t gonna work right now”, you say, but chuckle.

Jungkook grins boyishly, closing the distance between you and him.

“What’s a few papers anyway, right?” he says, fluttering his lashes at you.

“No, no stay away, you stubborn walnut.”

“I’m not stubborn.”

“Yes, you are. You’re even more stubborn than I am.”

Jungkook gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls.

“You take that back.”

“I’m taking it back once you admit that you were in my kitchen and messed up my papers.”

Jungkook sits down on the sofa and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He pouts, looking to the side like a sulking baby.

The thing is. You weren’t angry, nor really frustrated. In some weird way, you were amused. The fight is silly and so obviously not taken seriously by either party. In a peculiar sense, it almost feels like flirting. You and Jungkook find yourselves in a weird yet exciting dance of “who breaks first?” and you know exactly how to break him. 

You begin opening the front lacing on your dress. Jungkook notices from the corner of his eyes, shifting on the sofa as inconspicuously as possible. 

You sometimes like to wear pretty dresses from earlier time periods when at the estate. Your dress today consists of an outer layer and a flowy under dress. You let the outer dress fall to the floor, stepping out of it. 

Jungkook shifts again, clearing his throat. He turns his head further to the side, acting as if he can’t see you. 

Your under dress is made of a very thin cotton fabric, making it so perfectly translucent at the parts of your body which were more sinful than the rest. Yes, we are talking about your nipples and pubes here. Jungkook has a very hard time not looking at you. The collar of your under dress is closed with a ribbon. You open it as you strut to Jungkook.

You straddle his lap. His meaty thighs tense, jaw tightening. 

One skilled move and the dress slips down your shoulders, revealing your chest to him. 

Jungkook tries to turn his head even more but you stop him, nudging him to face you with two fingers gripping his chin. 

His eyes ghost over your breasts but flit up to stare at your face obsessively. Even now he is stubborn enough not to admit that you have him charmed.

“Do I really have to force you to confess, sweet one?” you say, caressing him under his chin. Your eyes race between his.

“I didn’t mess up-”

“Hush now”, you silence him, stuffing your nipple into his mouth. 

Jungkook mewls in surprise, eyes widened and hands stretching from his body. One second, two. He whimpers and sucks, eyes falling closed and hands grasping your waist. His thighs tremble as his body makes sense of the almost drug like effect your nipples have on him. 

“There we go”, you get out, playing with his hair, “now you can’t lie anymore. You’re so much sweeter like this.” 

Jungkook breaks away, craning his neck.

“I’m not ly-”

“Pssst.”

You force his head down and shove your other nipple into his mouth. Jungkook keens, sucking on it instantly. He drags his hands up your bared back, tickling goosebumps to the surface. 

He feels good. Really good. His touch is so gentle while his mouth is so eager. He is still trying to hold back, to pretend as if he wasn’t utterly into this, but his mouth begins to betray him. He sucks but he also licks. Very sloppily and messily. And whenever he licks, he lets out a throaty purr, thighs tensing under your weight. 

Jungkook changes sides, sliding his hands to your breasts to hold them. His tongue darts out, circling your nipple quickly while his fingers knead the flesh. 

“That’s good. Your mouth is put to so much better use like this. It’s too pretty to be used for lying.” 

“Shut up”, Jungkook murmurs and takes your nipple between his teeth to tug. 

“Ah, hey”, you gasp, arching your back. 

He grins against you. This little shit has the audacity to grin after biting your nipple. 

You can’t let him get away with it. You twist a bundle of his hair and tug. Jungkook’s head tilts back, revealing his boyish grin and cloudy eyes. His lips are glossy from spit. 

“Did you just bite my nipple, you little brat?”

“And if I did?” 

“Then I might need to punish you.”

His grin turns into a smirk, his eyes glimmer. He slides his fingers to your nipples and pinches them both.

“Ah”, you flinch in surprise.

He chuckles, pinching them again. 

“Hey, brat”, you gasp, slapping his hands away. 

He laughs, looking so pleased with himself.

“That’s it. Tongue out.”

Jungkook obeys, sticking it out as far as possible. He can’t wait to have your nipples on it. Except that you don’t give him what he craves, you give his tongue a spank. 

“Ahng”, he lets out, pulling it back instinctively. So you grab him by his chin and pull him closer, spanking his tongue as you do. 

His wet muscle trembles and tenses. He mewls and sticks it out some more, accepting the next spank with a tense of his entire body. It was a tense of pleasure, the kind which builds up fire in one’s stomach. 

One last spank and then you soothe it by dragging your tongue over it. Jungkook moans, fingers cradling the back of your head and lips closing around your tongue to kiss you. You kiss him back for one second, two seconds. No longer than that. It makes him desperate. Good. You like him desperate. 

“Mhm”, you hum and pull him down into your chest by holding his cheeks between your thumb and fingers. 

Jungkook returns to heaven in a mewl and his mouth wide open to take you in. He holds your breasts, wasting no time this round. He sucks as much of your softness into his mouth as he can fit, then moves his head back so you would slip out of him again. He sucks the entire time, resulting in pressure around your nipple so wonderful you sigh his name. 

Jungkook purrs, repeating what he did on your other side. His name falls from your lips a second time, your hips grind back and forth on his thigh. 

You had a fight once, didn’t you? Jungkook can barely remember. Neither can you. The charged tension which is still present keeps reminding you however. You want each other like crazy yet are too proud to give in already. That’s good though, means that Jungkook can suck on your breasts until you are sensitive.

“So good. So much better than when you’re bratty.” 

Jungkook loves being punished though. He has a thing for it. He bites your other nipple and tugs. 

You squeal and writhe, instantly pulling him away by his hair. 

Jungkook looks up at you, grinning goofily.

“You did that to yourself, Mommy.” 

“Do I have to punish you again?”

Jungkook sticks out his tongue and nods his head. Look at him waiting so eagerly. He wants to be punished and you want to punish him, but where is the fun in a punishment that is wanted?

No, you are going to ruin him another way. You lift your butt from his thigh to make up for the difference in height between his lips and your chest. Once in position, you slap your tits on his tongue, watching in delight how his eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack. You lift yourself and slap his tongue again then change sides to repeat it with punishing strength. 

Jungkook moans, tongue shaking under your nipple. He curls the tip each time you are in contact with him, trying to get a feel of you that way. It is so good because he is shaking so much when does.

You lift yourself and slam down, pressing yourself closer afterwards to grind your nipple over his tongue. 

He gurgles out a sound of need, fingers dimpling your hips as he grips you desperately. 

You’ve got him. You wrap your arm around his head and push, smothering him with your breasts. Jungkook moans, sinking his face into them gladly and when you keep him there? He swears he actually spills into his pants. He moves his head from side to side as his eager mouth begins trying to be everywhere at the same time. His tongue is just as restless, wetting your entire chest as he swirls it over you aimlessly. He just loves to be like this. It is so obvious that he is currently worshiping your tits with no goal in mind. All that he lives and breathes for, are your breasts. And that he can use his mouth on them. 

“So good, such a good wet mouth you have. So good” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. You rock back and forth, coming to realise that there is something missing. You instantly make up for it by dropping down on his thigh again, pulling his head with you to make sure he wouldn’t leave your chest. 

Jungkook lets you move him gladly, mewling into you as he mouths at your tender flesh eagerly. He is so dizzy. You smell so good and feel even better.

You rock your hips, moaning in bliss now that there is finally something that brings you pleasure. Now granted, Jungkook’s mouth already feels like heaven, but you want even more. His warm, wet mouth and  his strong thigh in contrast. It is so good. 

He is wearing a pair of white cotton pants today, they are oversized and comfortable and they feel so good against your warmth. Just a little rough, but still soft enough, also perfectly thin to let his body heat through. How goddamn addicting.

“Fuck this is so good now that you’re quiet. So good”, you moan, fingers feeling up his scalp and neck while Jungkook mewls into you, licking you eagerly. 

He doesn’t even want to be really bratty anymore. Okay, maybe he tries it a little by grazing his teeth against your nipple but one corrective tug on his hair and he already gives up on it, burying his face in your softness with a defeated keen. His tongue soothes what he wanted to bite, his drool runs down your breasts but instantly gets slurped up by him.

“So good, fuck…” you moan breathily, hips dancing on him eagerly. 

You didn’t truly think about the concept of grinding for pleasure before you met your lovers. How could something like that be fun? You were wrong. You were very wrong. You could honestly jump them all day every day. It is so addicting to find pleasure this way, to use their bodies until you find your highest peak.

Today is such a day. You can’t get enough of the friction and the pressure and how little movements are enough to build pleasurable tension in your stomach. 

Jungkook is gone as well, high on a different kind of drug. He loves quarrelling with you when it is so obvious that it wasn’t serious. He loves it because he can be bratty and tease you and therefore get punished. He also loves the tension and how you look at him when you pretend to be annoyed. He loves it, but he can’t win against your breasts. He feels submissive and stupid and good. So good. As if he never ever wants to be bad again. 

He whimpers, glossy lips sucking on your right nipple helplessly while his fingers grasp your hips. He sucks with such eagerness that hot electricity shoot through you. 

“Is that nice?” 

He nods his head, changing sides because he doesn't want to neglect even an inch from your perfect chest. 

“Nice enough to confess your sins?”

Jungkook makes a sound. 

You twist his hair and pull, denying him of the only heaven he craves right now. 

“No please”, he gets out, looking up at you teary eyed and pouty lips parted. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair messy. “Please.” 

“How much do you want it?”

“So much, please.”

“Then confess.”

He mewls, shaking his head. You stop it with a thug of his hair. You lift your hips, guiding your nipples to his lips. He moans and opens his mouth, drooling in anticipation. He is panting quicker the closer you come. 

Stop. 

Jungkook tries to make up for the last inch of distance but you hold him in place by his hair.

“No please”, he squeaks out, spilling tears. He looks agonised and tortured, fighting your grip helplessly. 

You cradle your right breast in your hand and move it around, showing him what he can’t do right now. 

He pulls an expression of pain, letting out  a sound which borders a sob.

“Confess and I’ll make all of this go away.  The pain, the withdrawal, you can be freed of it.”

“Mommy please.”

“I know sweet one, I know”, you coo, caressing his cheek, “Mommy can help you, but you have to be honest with me.”

Jungkook sobs softly, squeezing his eyes shut. You broke him. 

“I lied. I ruined your papers. I, I tried to look for a pen and, and accidentally knocked over the inkpot with my sleeve. I’m sorry.”

“See? Doesn’t the truth feel so much better?” 

“Please”, he cups your tender breasts, eyes widening in pleading, “please I did what you asked of me.” 

“You did. Go ahead then”, you allow him, letting go of his hair.

Jungkook takes the freedom instantly, burying his face back in your breasts with a loud moan. He squeezes them together in his hands, sucking and nibbling on you hungrily. 

“Fuck, that’s so good”, you sigh, rolling your hips against his thigh. You bury your hands in his hair and drop your head against his own head, closing your eyes. “You feel so good, sweetie. Keep going.” 

Jungkook agrees with a mewl, slipping his hands under your dress so he could hold your bared hips. No more fabric, he needs the sensation of your warm, soft skin. No panties. Sometimes in long dresses you go pantieless. Jungkook traces the naked paths where normally a piece of cotton would sit with tingling fingers. So soft. All of you. 

“Why are you so soft, Mommy?” he mewls into you, lips trembling as they suck on your left nipple.

“You’re so sweet”, you sigh, smiling blissfully. You scratch his scalp slowly, melting in his touch. “Ah fuck”, you breathe, hips desperately trying to search for more friction. You are dripping on him, soaking his pants. It feels good, but starts to feel like not enough. You feel so empty, so goddamn empty. 

He notices that you are using his thigh to pleasure yourself. His pants leg became very wet all of a sudden and your sweet scent tickles his nose. He wants to come up for air and ask if you feel good, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to miss even one second of your chest. But he has to. You are restless as if you are searching for more. 

“Is it enough?” he asks, mouth barely gone from your chest.

“I don’t know, I ahm.”

“Lift your hips, Mommy.” 

You follow his wish. Jungkook wiggles his arm under you so he can rest his hand on his thigh. He turns his palm up and sticks two of his fingers up. 

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby, holy fuck”, you babble, claiming what he offers instantly. You sink down on his fingers, pulling him into your chest at the same time. 

You yelp in pleasure, Jungkook matches your enthusiasm, moaning into your chest  as he takes your nipple back inside. Your walls are throbbing and trembling around his digits, taking him in eagerly.

“Holy fuck, Jungkook”, you croak, arching your back and twisting his hair. 

This is finally scratching that itch. You are so stuffed, so goddamn full of him and it’s heaven. You chase the explosions of pleasure with eager rocks of your hips, filling the silence with moans and gasps. Like this, your clit is grinding on his lower arm while your spots inside are grinding on his fingers. They are so long, so perfectly girthy and groomed.

“Jungkook baby. Baby, this is so good, holy fuck”, you moan, dropping your face into his soft hair. 

“Mommy”, the word is muffled and barely audible, his mouth is sloppy and restless on your chest. Even more than before. It is as if he was experiencing more pleasure as well, as if this is scratching his itch as well. 

Truth is, it feels like that for him. You are so wet and so warm around his digits and so goddamn fucking soft. Jungkook goes insane because of it, lost enough in you that his own mind is betraying him and he swears that he can feel you on his cock. It’s impossible because he is crammed into his pants, but it feels like it. Wet, soft, warm. 

“Mommy, soft. Mommy”, he whimpers, curling his fingers desperately.

“Urgh fuck”, you get out and drop into him, forcing his back to fall against the sofa cushions and for your nipple to leave his lips. “Sorry.”

“Is okay”, he mumbles, free hand rubbing your back and eager mouth sucking on your breasts in the new position. 

“Curl them again.” 

Jungkook obeys, moaning with you when this makes you shake and keen. Your hips move on him sloppily, your pussy keeps tightening around him. 

“Fuck baby”, you rasp, grabbing the pillow edge and twisting it. 

Jungkook spills tears, thighs shaking under you and cock throbbing in his pants. Your heart is racing like crazy. He can hear it, feel it too. He tries to get to it with eager sucks and wiggles of his head. It not only forces his lips and tongue to grind against your nipple but his nose as well. You are so sensitive at this point, you genuinely can’t feel any difference between stimulation on your clit and your nipples. 

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, urgh fuck”, you chant, convulsing and shaking on him. You are close. Dangerously close. 

Jungkook knows that you are feeling so ruined by it that he can barely move his mouth. He is ruined, running on nothing but you and everything that happens to your body when you are experiencing pleasure. Your raised pulse, your choppy breathing, your higher body heat and the array of sweet scents. He also swears that your skin becomes even softer than usually, contradicting the spots where the electricity is bundled. Your nipples hard and swollen, your clit enlarged and throbbing, your folds heated and engorged. So soft yet so plump in pleasure. Jungkook swears this is heaven and he promises silently to never ever be bratty again (he will be bratty again).

He curls his fingers and knows that this was it.

“Jungkook, baby”, you get out, tensing up as your pussy begins throbbing and clenching. Your voice pitches, coming out as squeaks and mewls. Your fingers twist his hair and hold him oh so close. This is so intense that you can’t see as it happens. Every single spot of concentrated pleasure was set off, forcing your entire body to be engulfed in flames. 

Jungkook’s eyes roll back even closed. He sobs, truly sobs, losing against the warmth. He orgasms in his pants. No touch, no grind, no lick just your breasts and your pussy on his fingers was enough. He accidentally bruises your nipple from sucking too aggressively, free hand leaving a bruise on your waist as well. You don’t mind, riding the waves with him until you both come down together.

“Oh god, baby”, you get out, slipping off his fingers. You nudge them down into a relaxed position, sitting on his hand. You grind as slowly as possible, wanting to enjoy the warmth and pressure just a little longer. 

Jungkook calms down in twitches of his body and little whimpers into your chest as he mouths at your breasts tiredly. He is so ruined, head dizzy and vision blurry, and your chest comforts him beyond comparison. 

“How…” You clear your raspy throat. “...how are you?” 

“Good”, he squeaks and shakes, sobbing softly as he hugs you closer, “feeling submissive.” 

“Mhm”, you scratch his scalp soothingly, holding him safely, “good boy. You were such a good boy. Let it happen, you’re safe with me.” 

“Mommy.”

“My good boy. You made me feel so good.”

He agrees with a nod of his head, hips twitching up. It calls your attention. You need to check something.

“Can Mommy touch you for a moment?” 

He nods his head.

You cup his clothed and softened cock, squeezing it a little. Jungkook whimpers, hiding deeper in your chest to handle the overstimulation. 

“Just as I had thought. You came in your pants. It’s soaking the fabric.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay, sweetie. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“So much.”

“Then that’s all that counts.” You give his soft dick one last caress then use the hand to ruffle his hair. “My good boy.”

Jungkook tugs his hand free and wraps both arms around you in a tight hug. He whimpers, dimpling your skin as he practically tries to melt you with him.

“I’m sorry for ruining your papers. I want to fix it, please.” 

“Mhm, we’ll find a solution together. But for now, hush, okay?”

“Okay, oh god. Can we hold each other? Please, Mommy.” 

“Of course, my baby.” You melt into him, resting your cheek on the crown of his head. “Let’s relax like this.” 

“I love you so much ” 

“I love you too, my baby. So much.“

[personasintro]

come for me | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it's a first proper date he's supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, protected s*x, little spanking, rough and quick s*x

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+

a/n: this is one of the secrets I've been keeping and god it's finally here!! i wasn't even planning on finishing this today but I did and I'm so happy to share it with you! hope you like it <3

↳ previous parts

Jungkook is convinced the entire world sucks.

What should be considered as the most exciting time for some men, Jungkook finds it as a literal torture. Planning a date shouldn't be so tough. He has never truly done it before – not when he truly meant it. Whenever he went out for what could be considered as a pathetic attempt at a date, its purpose was clear. To fuck and end it with a mind-blowing orgasm on both parts. 

He has never done it like… this. 

Fuck.

Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He definitely can't mention that to you – who's pretty much clueless about his thoughts and would kick him in the balls if you knew. 

“I don't know dude, you should bring her roses.” Taehyung proposes, watching his friend in a mild panic as he bounces Ruda in his arms. 

“She's not like other girls.”

“What do you mean? Every woman loves roses! You can't go wrong with that!” Taehyung protests, offended that Jungkook rejected his idea right away. 

“I wouldn't say every but yeah, it's the effort that counts. Plus, she knows you've never done this before.” Yoongi joins in that conversation, shrugging nonchalantly while Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip. 

Fuck! This is not like him. 

It's already enough his friends share an amused look, one he definitely notices and finds really offending. They find this entire thing very amusing while Jungkook is having a midlife crisis. 

“Okay, maybe forget about the flowers. What does she like?”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “What things does she like to do? Does she like to eat? Likes to watch movies?”

Jungkook's a little taken back by those questions, a clueless expression clouding his face while Taehyung snorts in the background. He's too busy trying to think of a proper answer to glare at him in return. 

“I–I don't know,” he admits.

“You don't know?” Yoongi deadpans, “Come on dude, you gotta know something.”

“I don't know!” he exclaims in distress, causing Ruda to babble as if to remind him she's there. He shoots her an apologetic look, looking back at Yoongi. “We never really discussed that kind of stuff. We fucked. That's what she likes for sure.”

“Should you talk like that in front of the baby?” Taehyung points out, met with another glare that shuts him up. 

Ruda is too young to understand. He'll take care of his bad mouth by the time she understands, he naively thinks to himself.

“Then just fuck her.” 

Jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at his friend and his stupid idea. “Seriously? I'm supposed to take her on a date. Beats the whole purpose of it if I just fuck her instead.”

“Look at him, so much progress.” Taehyung mutters amusingly, causing Jungkook to grab one of Ruda's plushies and throw it aggressively at Taehyung's head. 

“Then just take her somewhere and fuck her after. If the date is awful, at least she gets her world rocked.”

They both start to laugh while Jungkook whines loudly, a groan following right after. “You guys are fucking with me. Literally, you're no help.”

“JK, we can't exactly help you when you have no idea what she likes. Maybe you should find out first and then think of something?”

“Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?” Jungkook mocks, doing a little stance with his arms while Ruda is in his hold. “Very smart, Yoongi. I don't want to make it seem as if I don't know what I'm doing.”

“What's so wrong about that?” Taehyung questions, “You just ask her what she prefers and it'll be easier to plan something.”

“Yeah, he's right.”

Jungkook sighs, pinching his brows. Ruda starts to fidget in his hold, causing him to sit down in a chair. He hands her one of her rattles as she starts to wildly shake it in her tiny hands. 

“Won't I look pathetic if I just asked her?”

“You literally look pathetic right now.”

“Taehyung, God help me–”

“Just ask her.” He cuts him off. 

Somehow, he made it sound easier than the thought of it is. 

The next time you see Jungkook is when you bring him the dinner you cooked. You haven't had that much time to see each other, with you working and his sleeping schedule all over the place, you had to settle with a message for the time being. It hasn't been that long, only like three days since he asked you on a date.

You're not going to lie, you feel a little giddy thinking of it. It's weird because you can't imagine the famous Jeon Jungkook on a date. If someone mentioned the words date and Jungkook in the same sentence, you would laugh them off. But now that it involves you, you find it almost flattering. He's taking you on a date. 

You. 

And no one else. 

You want to devilishly cackle at all those bitches that got to fuck him, wanted something more with him. Realizing that's kind of evil, you humble yourself because nothing's sure yet. 

Since this is very new to not only you but Jungkook as well, it's hard to have any say when it comes to the future. You're trying to prepare yourself for any outcomes but it's tough. Tougher than you think it would be. The idea of this failing makes you weirdly sad and you can't stand it.

However the sight in front of you completely brings you to other thoughts. You've never been someone who would thirst over dads. The whole DILF thing discussed between women was a pure fantasy, something they would romanize or even sexualize. Not that you were purely against it. Are women who find young dads hot that bad? 

The potential man would have to be hot in order to find them being a young dad hot. Some men just have that spark. And you've never really met one even remotely close to Jungkook.

And there he is. 

He opens his front door, hair slightly raffled and messy, as if he hasn't brushed it the entire day. He has one of his oversized gray shirts on, a map of spit or whatever that is decorating the thin material. He has a baby cloth draped over his shoulder, momentarily widening his eyes at the sight of you. 

Then realization hits him and he steals a glance at the watch around his wrist. He forgot you were supposed to drop in for dinner. 

Other than he looks fucking hot, even in his messy state, you also find him adorable how he stares at you with big doe eyes before he ushers you to come inside. 

“Where's my favorite baby?” you ask excitedly, keeping your tone down just in case she's sleeping. It's awfully quiet in Jungkook's apartment. 

“You make it sound as if you knew dozens of them.”

You give him a look, hearing him chuckling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Rude.”

“She's sleeping,” he answers instead, but a cocky grin is attached to his moisturized lips. “She's been a little cranky this night,” He lets out a yawn. “Barely got any sleep.”

You pout at the thought of it. “You should've told me. We could switch or something.”

He stares at you dumbfounded as if you just came up with the craziest idea. Perhaps it is one. 

“You have a job, Y/N. I can't let you have a sleepless night.”

He has a point. Even if you were willing to spend a sleepless night helping him, you wouldn't really help much since you have to wake up early in the morning. You can't babysit during the day, unless it's the weekend. And babysitting during the night so Jungkook can sleep, even if for a few hours would cause you to look like a zombie the next morning.

You love your sleep. But you're willing to give it away for Ruda. And Jungkook. 

Jungkook ends that particular topic, leading you further down his apartment and to his kitchen where you place the containers. “It's tomato sauce pasta with chicken and basil. Not exactly a trophy winning menu but I tried to cook something quickly.”

“Fuck, I'm so hungry,” Jungkook whines, opening the container as he inhales the scent, a steam coming off it since you just finished cooking. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

“No worries, I told you I wanna help in any way I can.” you assure him. 

He motions for you to sit down, already pulling out a glass for you where he pours you an apple juice. “Have you eaten?” he asks, already digging his fork into pasta.

“It's hot, be careful,” you warn him, even though the steam itself is enough of an indicator that it's indeed very hot. But Jungkook looks as if he's ready to swallow the entire thing with no thoughts. “And no. I came directly here but no worries, I will eat when I come home.”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook waves you off. You watch him stand up and before you can complain, he pulls out a plate for you and opens the other container you had prepared for him for tomorrow. “Here, let's eat together.”

“Jungkook–I have my food at home, I just came here to drop this–”

“Stay for a while.” he says simply, looking too irresistible and straight into your eyes for you to object. 

“Okay.”

You dig into the food, not realizing how hungry you've become once again. Your entire apartment smells like tomato sauce, garlic and basil. You hope by the time you come there, the opened windows did their job because you would hate to sleep in a smelly apartment. 

When you were cooking, you inhaled the smell a lot so naturally, you didn't feel as hungry anymore but now the hunger comes back. Without any argument, you both eat in silence while trying to talk about your days. 

You and Jungkook haven't really talked that much before. You both know what you spent most of the time doing. That's changing and it is a pleasant change.

It does feel slightly odd to be talking about casual stuff like your work. But once Jungkook takes over and talks you through their day. He's got a lot on his plate. He has a baby for fuck sake. He looks exhausted, yet his eyes are sparkling and he doesn't make it sound as if he's complaining. He informs you, even laughs at Ruda's cranky mood and what work she makes him go through. 

You're done and Jungkook takes it upon himself to clean the dishes and give you back your food containers, even though you told him it can wait. He protests and while he just as much protests with you cleaning the mess in his living room, you do it anyway.

There are toys and a few dirty and empty bottles laying around. There's not that much of a mess and it's done shortly after Jungkook finishes dishes.

You both decide to hang out for a while before you have to get home, take a shower and prepare yourself for the night. 

“Hey, I meant to ask you about something…”

Jungkook starts unsurely, arm outstretched behind your seat on his couch as you're cuddled to his side. You could fall asleep like this.

“It's about our date.”

You pull away slightly to look at his face, “Are you backing down from it?” you muse, watching the way his face turns into panic and that alone tells you that's far from the truth. It's enough to let you relax as you giggle.

“No!”

“Then what is it?” you ask, cuddling back but in a position where you still can see him. 

“What do you like to do?” he asks, a little awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “It sounds fucking stupid but I was wondering where to take you and I realized–we never talked about this stuff. And I–” Don't want to mess up. He doesn't finish.

Something warm collects in your chest and you try to hide a smile, not wanting him to feel as if you're finding him amusing or anything of that sort. Actually, you find him endearing. He's showing you a side of himself that you've never seen before.

“Whatever you plan, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.” You settle on saying, not having anything particular in mind which is not a help at all. 

“Come on!” Jungkook whines, “I'm trying here. I've never done this shit before.”

“Did you just call our date a shit?” you tease him, watching him open his mouth before he closes it and glares at you.

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know, I just love teasing you,” you muse, met with another glare which causes you to giggle silently. “I've never seen you like this. I'm quite enjoying it.”

“Yeah, make fun of me.” he scoffs a little.

Realizing this might not be just as fun and humorous as you make it seem to be, you also realize this must be important to him in a way. Your smile drops and you sit up, watching him slide his arm off the couch and into his lap. He stares there thoughtfully, avoiding your gaze.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think you would worry about it this much,” you tell him gently, “Depends on what time we would go on a date.”

“I called my mom and she can babysit until 9PM. She has to go back home after that.”

“Hm, okay. And what time are we meeting?”

“I thought maybe around… four?” he says, stealing a glance at you as your purse your lips in thought.

“How about we eat somewhere nice–nothing fancy!” you warn him, not really sure if he's the type to go all out since he has never done this before. 

But still, you want to make sure he doesn't spend a fortune on a single date. Plus, you would like to pay too. Not because he has a baby and other expenses, but because you're independent. You don't need a man to pay for everything.

Maybe eventually it would be nice to get spoiled a little. But at the moment, you can't imagine it. It wouldn't seem fair considering what a position he's in now. There's a little human here that needs more of everything than you do.

It's not something you've had to come to terms with, you've understood it from the beginning. Jungkook is a dad now. And it has a certain baggage with it. 

“And then we could do something–I don't know. Maybe we could think about it after? To see what we're in the mood for.”

“You sure you'll be okay with it?” he asks unsure.

He's met with a confusion as you pull back and say; “Why wouldn't I be? I just suggested it.” you giggle.

“Just askin'. I've never done this before.”

“So you said.” you tell him, standing up. “I would go and check Ruda but I don't want to wake her up. So kiss her for me, okay?” 

Jungkook looks like he's ready to protest, perhaps telling you to stay a little longer or even night, knowing it might be too soon for you. Once he checks the time, he remains quiet and the pout is the only thing visible on his face. 

You lean down, kissing him on his cheek. “Don't worry about the date too much, okay?”

He hums, though keeps his pessimism to himself. You wave at him for the last time and it's until he hears a soft click that he's once again alone with his daughter. The one that announces herself shortly after you leave. A loud sigh leaving his mouth as he stands up and goes to check on her. 

“What do you mean you can't come?” Jungkook shrieks, so out of his character that even his mother on the other line stays silent for a second.

“I'm sorry, Jungkookie. They canceled all train connections because of an accident.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing his mother scolding him but he pays her zero attention. “Can you grab a taxi or something? I'll pay for it.”

It's out of his budget but he's desperate. 

“No, it's too expensive plus I wouldn't be able to make it in time. You know how it is here. It's hard to find a taxi.”

He groans, rubbing his face frustratedly as he stares out of the window. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He had it all planned. Even though you talked about getting food, he thought a lot – embarrassed to say – he even googled a few spots that were recommended around here. He would let you choose and maybe you would be able to visit them all within five hours that you would have for yourselves. 

But now everything's out of the window. 

“I could come tomorrow?” She tries to help, but Jungkook shakes his head.

You can't tomorrow. There's some kind of family party you need to attend. 

“No, it's fine, mom. I'll call you later.”

“I really am sorry, Jungkookie.”

He starts to think of every single thing that he knows. Every person gets on his mind and he wonders if he should call them. In a moment of realization and reality hitting back to him, he realizes he can't just call anyone to watch over his daughter. He sits down in disappointment, realizing how selfish that would be of him. 

He can't call Yoongi or Taehyung. They would not be able to take care of her and he would spend the entire date worrying, probably leaving to check on her. That's completely out of the question. None of his other friends, that probably fuck around as we're speaking would be able to help him.

None of his family members are around. Plus, they still haven't met Ruda – most of them – for some reason he thinks it's too early. He's still in a stage of trying to figure out to be a father. 

It's only his luck that his mom calls him from the train station, having no other way to come here. Just because some dumb fuck decided to jump in front of the train. 

He stops.

Fuck, he really is selfish.

He takes it back immediately, having more compassion now than ever since he has a whole baby to raise and take care of. 

You're supposed to be here any minute. He had it all planned. 

His mom should've been here soon, he would briefly talk her through Ruda's routine. He trusts her. She raised him and could surely take care of a baby. Plus, Ruda's sleep is better these days and she's too little to make a fuss about her dad not being here. 

When a knock resounds on his door, his entire stomach churns and he prepares himself for the disappointment that he seems to be. It's even worse when he opens the front door and you stand there, fully prepared in a short dress. Your hair is neat and nicely done, so is your make-up. Not that you aren't pretty either way, but he can definitely tell the extra effort you've put into yourself. 

It truly makes him feel like the biggest asshole. 

You smile, telling him something but he can't hear. He just stares, both out of awe and then frustration when he realizes what he's about to tell you. 

“What's wrong?” Your smile drops, making a note of his weird expression of pure sadness. 

“We can't go on a date,” He forces the words out of his mouth.

It's weird how his heart drops when you suddenly grab the strap of your bag, looking as if you're shielding yourself from him. 

“It's–My mom just called and she can't get on the train.”

“Oh,” you let out. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, um–come inside.” he says, gently grabbing your wrist as he pulls you inside. He doesn't need any nosy neighbors witnessing this very uncomfortable and awkward situation. 

You stand in his entry way, looking around in awkwardness as he scratches his temple.

He's obviously styled and prepared to go out. You've noticed his nice outfit right away. He's wearing black slacks with a casual white t-shirt tucked inside it. His hair is trimmed and styled back. You can smell his aftershave and hair gel along with his cologne. 

Clearly, he hasn't stood you up and what he's saying is the truth.

It's not like you doubt him but well – all of this is new and maybe it wouldn't be so out of character if Jungkook panicked and decided to make a lie to save himself. 

“I'm so sorry–I really had everything prepared for tonight. And it's completely ruined. I fucked up.”

You frown, staring at him for a second. “You didn't fuck up, Jungkook.” you tell him softly. “It's not your fault.”

“I thought of calling one of my friends, but they're not able to take care of Ruda–I can't just let them–”

Probably they wouldn't even want to babysit, now that he thinks of it.

“Jungkook, it's totally okay. I understand.”

“I can't let just anyone watch over her.”

“I understand,” you emphasize softly, smiling at him. “How about we take her with us?”

Jungkook's head snaps in your direction, looking at you as if you're crazy. “You wanna take a baby with us? Nothing against Ruda but–we're not gonna be able to enjoy it. She will cry eventually and I had plans–I can't possibly imagine taking her there–it's too much work.”

He panics and you need to get a hold of his shoulders to stop him.

“We don't have to take her to the restaurant or wherever you want to go,” you inform him, “We could just take her for a stroll and see from there? If she's gonna cry and be cranky, we'll just come back.”

You're not a mother yourself, but somehow you can empathize with his situation. He hasn't taken her out for too long, not onto too many public places. Until you count grocery stories and nearby parks. He's by himself most of the time. While he finally got the hang of the feeding, bath and sleeping routine, the thought of suddenly taking her there makes him unsure. Even though he knows he'll have to do it eventually. 

“Plus, I will be there. It's gonna be the two of us.” 

Something about that specific line makes him pause as he watches you. You give him a look, wondering what's the stare for but he just smiles. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you assure him. “Nothing's ruined. Plus, I think I'll prefer Ruda's company there too.”

He looks at you suspiciously, almost like he doesn't believe you. And perhaps he doesn't. But you giggle. “I'm serious. There's gonna be time to enjoy ourselves alone.”

“I–” he stops, “Wow. Okay. I'll prepare her and we can go.”

“Great,” you smile, “I'll prepare her stroller. Do you have any formula prepared?”

“Yeah, had one prepared for mom. It should still be warm.” 

You both jump into action. Jungkook takes Ruda out of her cradle that he bought for her and has its place designed in his living room. She starts to wake up, her little face twisting as you coo at her while you walk past them. You prepare the bottle and stroller, watching Jungkook put her there as you bring some extra clothes for her just in case. 

You're out of his apartment in a record time, fully prepared as you shoo Jungkook and take the stroller. He walks beside you with a teasing smile, but there's a huge relief and content behind it. 

Jungkook's nerves are put at ease. 

Not only you but the situation proves to him that he can still go and eat out, even with a baby. Ruda has been like an angel. Once she's awake, she just stares around before she falls asleep shortly after. You feed her in a nearby park which slowly lullabies her to sleep.

After walking and getting to know each other's interests through stories, you find a nice restaurant where you can eat outside. It's not probably what Jungkook had planned but it has its own magic. 

Stroller kept next to you at all times, you fill up your stomach and even sleeping Ruda gets a few compliments along the way.

“Aw, what a cute baby! You have a very pretty baby.” The waitress tells you, beaming from a distance at sleeping Ruda, causing you both to smile.

None of you correct her. Why should you? She's a stranger and it doesn't matter what she thinks. You understand why she would think you're a family. It's a standard here. Nobody expects single dads out here. 

Well, not so single anymore. You hope.

“Thank you.” you smile at her in gratitude, eyes dropping to the sleeping angel that's next to you. Okay, maybe you appropriated Jungkook's daughter but he doesn't seem to mind. Actually, it seems like he's enjoying the sight in front of him.

“Your daughter is a star around here.” you tell Jungkook once the waitress is gone.

He chuckles, “Stealing my spotlight from birth.”

“Oh, she definitely helps you catch even more eyes.” you muse, watching him laugh in confusion. “Everyone's staring at you. All those women we walked past. They're thirsting over you.”

“Are you sure it's because of Ruda?”

You roll your eyes while grinning, “So cocky as usual.”

“What? I've always caught a female's gaze if that's what you were saying.”

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes again, “But there's something hot about a young hot dad. You're a DILF now.”

“Don't call me that.” he groans, causing you to laugh.

“Either way, it does bring you attention whether you like it or not.”

“Doesn't matter, I only like your attention,” he says. 

The two of you share a look as Jungkook cringes while laughing while you shriek in both excitement and disbelief. You probably look like a crazy couple. “That was smooth!”

He laughs, “I'm trying. I'm not romantic.”

“Are we having this conversation again?” You lift your brow. “Anyway, they can only look. You're on a date with me.”

It's a diplomatic way to say, aiming at something that hasn't been discussed yet. This is your first date after all. None of you have a certain plan. 

Yet, you're sure to admit that you don't like the attention Jungkook gets. 

“Does that make me your boyfriend?” he asks, tasting the way that words sound out of his mouth. 

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Hell yeah. If it means repelling all the men from you, I will be anything.”

You laugh, “You sound jealous.”

“Because I am,” he says, throwing a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “I want you all to myself.”

“Hm, I'll think about it. Ruda has a place in my heart too.”

“I can share with her.” 

You both share a giggle together, something you've barely done before. 

“Does this make it official?” you question.

He shrugs, “If you want it to be. I know I do.”

“Me too,” you tell him giddily, sounding like an excited teenager. “I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Do people get together on a first date though?” he asks, finding you staring dumbfoundedly at him. “No, I'm serious. I really wanna know.”

You sit back, taking a sip of your drink. “Who cares? We kinda did it backwards anyway.”

“True,” Jungkook hums. “Who cares.”

Throughout those four hours of getting to know each other more, the connection between you grew some more. You've found out about Jungkook's secret hobby which is graphic art. It kind of explains the love for his tattoos as well. He's no longer just the boy that partied and fuck his way through his years. Actually, he's not that at all.

His guilty pleasure is eating snacks in the middle of the night, though he really tries to restrict himself from doing so. It's tougher to visit a gym these days, one of his obvious hobbies that you've already known. But he talked more about that and there wasn't a minute that it felt awkward or uncomfortable.

Ruda has been a pleasant company as well, her cuteness making both of you laugh and giggle. You were kind of bonding over her as well. Until it was starting to get darker and the two of you have decided to get back. 

On your way to the apartment complex, Ruda has pooped which proved your decision to go back to be right. Jungkook invites you to his place, not too keen on ending your date just yet and you agree. Though, you have to wake up early to pack your things and get ready for your cousin's birthday party, you don't want to leave them. 

You offer to take Ruda's nappy but Jungkook refuses, thinking it might be too much to ask of you but truly, you wouldn't mind. You try to tell him that but he just shakes his head, tells you to sit down and make yourself at home.

Shortly after, he comes back informing you that Ruda fell asleep. He joins you on the couch with what sounds like an exhausted sigh. The two of you share a look, both chuckling, silently of course because there's a baby sleeping in the other room. 

“Did you like it?” 

Jungkook fills up the momentary silence, voice slightly unsure and nervous.

He glances at you sideways, quickly looking away as he clears his throat.

“The date.”

“I did,” you giggle, nodding. “I really did. Thank you, it was very lovely.”

He allows himself to smile, mentally patting himself on his back for this going so smoothly. To be honest, he expected a disaster. It began like that, so he can't be blamed for expecting it to continue. But he's pleasantly surprised. 

Too happy about today. 

He feels like a freaking teenager and he gets this weird fluttering in his stomach. Urgh! He's not sure how he feels about it because it's new.

“Though you could've let me pay at least for the botanic park–or the museum.” you tell him, giving him a dirty but teasing look. 

You've really managed to visit many places Jungkook prepared for you. At first – which you're clueless about – he wasn't sure how to feel about it because he never went to a freaking museum. Maybe when he was on a school trip. It was totally involuntary, of course. But he caught himself enjoying it – and maybe it was because you were there – but he realized he doesn't mind enjoying himself, knowing it's because of you that he was able to. 

“No can do.” Jungkook shakes his head, teasing you some more which makes you groan. 

“I will pay next time.”

“Next time?” he teases, wiggling his brow.

“Aren't we dating now? It's what couples do, going on dates–”

“We are,” he hums. “What else do they do?”

You smirk, inching closer to him as you cuddle up to his side. He welcomes your touch, throwing his arm around you as he pulls you even closer while he doesn't take his eyes off you.

“They kiss,” you whisper, noses bumping into each other as you let your lips linger over his. Not quite kissing him but then it's too irresistible, he is, that in the end you press a soft kiss on his lips.

“They cuddle,” you continue, “Fuck.”

Jungkook chokes on his spit, “Don't say it like that.”

“Is Jeon Jungkook getting shy?” you tease, kissing his jaw. “You know a lot about fucking.”

“I–fuck–I do,” he agrees, voice sounding almost choked up. He tries to concentrate badly, he really does, but you're making it too hard when your kisses trail down his neck, making more parts of his body alive. “It just makes me–”

“What? Horny?” you tease and he groans.

“Well obviously,” he rolls his eyes, hands on your hips as you sit up and straddle his lap. “Wait–”

“Why?” you pause, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“No, wait, wait, wait–” He quickly says as if he could read your thoughts. He can surely see the starting embarrassment and the way you pull away, putting distance between you. “I really want nothing else than fuck you.”

“But?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, “I wanna take it slow. Won't it ruin if we just fuck right now?”

You give him a look, slightly caught off guard. “Why would we? We've done it before multiple times.”

“Yeah, we did but… but it was different, you know?” he says and weirdly, you do know what he means. However– “I just don't want to fuck this up.”

Your eyes soften, taking Jungkook's face into your hands as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “You won't fuck this up, Jungkook.”

“You don't know that.” He frowns.

“Well, yeah. I meant it in a more encouraging way. You're trying and I can see that. I do appreciate it.” you confess to him, silently and softly as if saying it out loud will make it embarrassing. You're a little sheepish when it comes to confessing such things. Talking deeply and emotionally with him. “I personally don't think us having sex tonight will ruin anything. But if that's what you're worried about, we don't have to. What I wanna say with this is–I respect it.”

He watches you, eyes clouded with restraint and desire. Currently having an inner battle with himself, he sighs and leans his head back.

“Plus, I think it's cute.”

“Cute?” he deadpans, moving his head down to look at you. 

“You're cute,” you admit, giggling at the look of disgust on his face. “This really means something to you.”

“Does it not to you?”

You laugh, “Of course it does.”

He smiles, pulling you closer as he's the one who kisses you now. “Fuck, you're really making this hard.”

“Not just this.” you point out, wiggling your brows at him when you shift in his lap, feeling his hardening length under you.

“Stop!” he shrieks silently in horrification.

You giggle, “We could watch a movie instead. Or talk.”

He rubs his lips together, eyes dropping low. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. There's desire, lust and impatience clouding the air around you, just as much as it fills your gazes. Jungkook's eyes are the first ones to drop down your lips. Staring at them painted in a nice shade that compliments your skin tone. They're moisturized and never looked so tempting. He's not sure. He can't think straight right now. 

“Fuck movie.” he pants, grabbing you by your sides and pulling you onto him. 

The kiss is no longer soft and minimal, you both practically throw at each other letting your bodies act upon their biggest temptation. The making out is messy and fast, no longer staying at that as Jungkook lays you down and starts kissing you down your neck. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” you gasp, moaning when Jungkook lowers down your dress and starts sucking the skin on top of your breasts. 

You arch into his touch and warmth, craving for every inch of him. It leads you to become even more impatient, ushering him to take off his shirt. He does and you immediately salivate at his pecs and muscles, hands trailing down his back and abs.

“Fuck, almost forgot how hot you are.” you confess. Okay, that might be a lie. It's hard not to notice how Jungkook glows with hotness, even if there are traces of exhaustion every day. 

“Oh, you forgot?” Jungkook teases, “Should remind you.”

“Mhm, you should.”

And boy, he does. 

In a split second, the dress is ripped off you and thrown somewhere on the floor, underwear followed right after. You complain about Jungkook's upper body still dressed, though there's something incredibly sexy about him wearing slacks with chest on full display. It's almost too shameful that he turns you around, getting you on all four. 

Both of you go completely feral. The position making your ass arch as Jungkook delivers a slap to it. He stops for a second though, freezes and waits for any sound coming from his bedroom. You watch him relax as he continues, a little smile playing on your lips. 

You hear him unzipping his slacks, not wanting to get the sight stolen from you so you turn around and stare at the scene in front of you across your shoulder. He smirks, noticing you watching as he reaches toward his coffee table.

Once he pulls out a foil packet, you give him a look with raised brow. “How did it get there?”

“My wallet dropped the other day and someone rang the door, I panicked and put it there.”

You laugh at his story, wondering if he's telling the truth. He looks like it though and quite frankly, you don't care. 

“Turned out to be convenient.”

“It did, thanks to whoever rang that day.”

He smiles, not elaborating any further as he takes off his remaining clothes. You hear the familiar sound of foil ripping and before you know it, Jungkook's tip pokes you at your asscheek. 

You might be already impatient enough, both of you too hungry for one another, but you also know there is no time to fool around when you now have the chance to have sex. Any second Ruda could wake up and put an end to your and Jungkook's desire. Seems like he knows it too because he gives you an apologetic look.

“It's okay, just fuck me.” you assure him with a moan, arching your back for him. 

He spits on his fingers, stretching you out with them and you sigh in content at the feeling. Giving you a few pumps to make you at least somehow prepared for him, you whine his name in ushering him and silently telling him you'll be fine.

That's all it takes for him to enter you, both of you swallowing down any set of curses and sounds. Jungkook pulls back just for him to thrust into you. He finds a perfect rhythm, rocking your bodies fast and roughly.

Jungkook growls, “Holy shit.”

He slaps your ass, trying to keep it down as you both giggle in the middle of it. It's soon cut off by his thrusts you try to meet. Giggles get switched by silent moans and pleas. Everything is heated and rushed, both of you ultimately aiming to orgasm knowing it could get interrupted any minute. Keeping that in mind, you don't hold yourself back and neither does Jungkook.

Despite your situation, he does not refrain himself a few slaps to your ass which only brings you closer to the end. 

“Jungkook–”

“Fucking hell, I wish I could hear you moaning and screaming.”

You wish you had more time, though you don't regret it happening now. You wouldn't have it any other way. Thinking that you both would have to wait for each other sounds like a proper torture. 

“You're fucking creaming my cock–fuck.” he groans silently, seeming to have as much as struggle to keep it down. 

Still, it's kind of hot to experience it. You never had to keep it down. Sure, there were many times when you specifically had sex and tried to be silent because of neighbors. With Jungkook, you never cared about neighbors before. Not that much at least.

“Fuck–I'm almost–there.”

“Come for me.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping your ass so much that you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

And you do. Not even five seconds later, you bury your face into his couch and let moans disappear into its material. Jungkook follows right after you, not being able to hold it for much longer as he comes inside the condom. 

He stays inside for a moment, softening slowly as he carefully helps you to turn around. He sits back on his knees, condom soiled by your cum and juices but none of you move. 

You stare at each other, smiles coming up at the same time as you silently giggle. 

This is the best date ever.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two

Gareth Emerson had no clue what the hell Eddie was thinking. 

There was “adopting lost sheep” as he called it, and “being the nest baby birds needed before they fly” for some of the other poor, mid-year transfers, and all of Hellfire was used to both these adoptees. 

People showed up, always looking a little hesitant, always a little careful, and all of them were welcomed until they found their place in Hawkin’s High. 

This though? This was neither of those things.

No, what Eddie had done was taken a wolf, or a--fucking tiger, that had gotten hurt fighting other fucking tigers, and decided to keep it as a pet. 

Even if said pet was looking very pathetic, with a face full of bruises that apparently, Billy Hargrove caused.

That did not make sitting across from the fallen King and current senior, Steve Harrington, any easier. 

Judging by the rest of Hellfire’s constant uneasy glances and uncomfortable, awkward joking, no one else was comfortable with it either. 

Except of course, for Eddie. 

“Dude can we like, talk for a minute?” Gareth asked, motioning at Jeff and Grant to distract Harrington. Not that it was hard, the jock was too busy staring at his pathetic packed lunch to notice much. 

(The guy brought soup to school and was drinking it cold. What the fuck.) 

“Ga~ary.” Eddie sing-songed, but it was in warning. 

A warning very much ignored, as Gareth stood, and moved to tug Eddie up with him. 

“Now, Eddie.” He said, his own tone a manic, if suppressed version of his own warning.

Gareth was not known for keeping his temper, but he also wasn’t keen on getting his ass kicked this early in the day if Harrington took offense. 

And considering they had all finally caught a look at Hargrove, and the way he fucking stopped and turned on his heel the second he saw Harrington, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind that Harrington could kick his ass. 

Even in his current, beaten to shit state. 

Eddie huffed a dramatic breath, making sure at least some of his hair moved with it, but stood nonetheless. 

“I’ll return shortly, friends!” He called jovially, before letting himself be dragged backwards several feet. 

Just fair enough away where they could still see the table, but not be heard. 

Particularly not by any invading jocks. 

“What were you thinking!?”  Gareth started, hands crossed over his chest tightly.  “You didn’t even talk to us first!”

“Garebear, look at him.” Eddie said, placing both hands on his friend's face, turning it to look at Steve’s hunched form. 

“Those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.” Eddie continued, leaning in to whisper in Gareth’s ear. “The pathetic way he slouches.”

 Eddie leaned even closer, lips tickling Gareth’s ear and making the latter swat at him. 

He dropped his hands to Gareth’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. 

“His giant empty house we can use for Hellfire meetings.”

“Is that seriously why you dragged him over here?” Gareth demanded, a little louder than he’d meant too, if Eddie’s abruptly tight grip was anything to go by. 

“Of course not.” Eddie scoffed. “Rumor has it the guy throws money around for his friends and if we play our cards right, we can be the receiving end of that gravy train.” 

Eddie grinned theatrically while he said it, staring into Gareth’s eyes like his smile alone would convince him to play along. 

It was the fakest thing Gareth had ever seen on his best friends face. 

“Don’t bullshit me man.” He said quietly, eyes narrowed. “What’s the actual reason you decided to go against your own doctrine and adopt Steve Harrington, of all people?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicked to Harrington and back. “There’s no other--”

“Eddie.” Gareth snapped, a flash of his temper breaking through. “You’re my best friend. Don’t fucking lie to me like that.” 

“Has anyone told you you’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, Gare?” Eddie muttered, but it was more subdued, the playful mask falling from his face. 

As a matter of fact, Ms. Click had called him out on it that very morning, but Gareth knew better than to admit that and derail this conversation. 

“Edwin Dale Munson.” Gareth growled, enjoying the way Eddie flinched from his full, government name. 

“Sssh!” Eddie dropped his hands from Gareth’s shoulder to wave them in his face. “Fine, fine, look. Rumor has it he got cheated on, blew up his friendship with Hateful Hagan and Cocky Carol, and then took a beating from Hargrove. All in the same like, week.” 

Eddie tugged at his hair, the movement harsh. 

“I found him walking home in the dark the other day. Said something was wrong with his car, but Gareth.” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lower lip, before he stopped close once again, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I had to coax him in my car and when he got in he kept flinching.” 

“Flinching.” Gareth repeated. 

“Like I was gonna hit him or something.” Eddie explained. “Worse Harrington’s house was dark when I got home. I mentioned to Wayne it didn’t look like anybody lived there and he said he was surprised anyone did. He thought the Harrington’s moved.” 

“Okay.” Gareth said, not quiet following this part of the conversation. 

“He thought they moved because some coworker of his wife worked for them as a house keeper or some shit. Said they bought a place in Chicago. She helped them pack.” 

Another look, but this time Gareth had picked up on what was happening. 

The flinching. 

Not going with his parents.

Staying in Hawkins, when Harrington had a chance to get the hell out. 

It didn’t paint a pretty picture. 

“Shit.” Gareth said finally.

Eddie nodded. “Exactly.” 

Together, they turned to stare at Harrington, who had hunched further into himself now that Eddie was gone from the table. 

“If he turns on us I’m blaming you.” Gareth grumbled finally, and tried not to let the smile that broke out on Eddie’s face effect him. 

“Glad to hear you’re on board, Garebear.” Eddie said, patting his shoulder hard. 

“You’re a fucking teddy bear, you know that right?” Gareth continued as they turned to walk back to the table.

“Shut your mouth.” Eddie fired back. 

“I don't think I will. In fact, Harrington!” Gareth spoke the jock’s name loudly, making the dude jerk and spill some of his soup. 

Bruised eyes looked up at him and Gareth fired a smug right into Harrington’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree that Eddie here is a giant teddy bear?”

“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut in, as Harrington blinked slowly, a puzzled look overtaking his face. “Gareth here has a big imagination.”

“Let the man give his own opinions. I’m sure he has some!” 

Steve looked between them. 

“I think I’ll plead the fifth.” He decided on. 

“Smart man.” Jeff muttered, causing the rest of the table to snicker.

For the first time since he sat down, Gareth witnessed a small smile appear on Harrington’s face. 

[theoddest1]

Hey, isn't it so..."Great" that Viv is out here liking posts that clearly find moments where Angel is being sexual with his rapist "Hot" How much more telling can this all get, right? We really sit here, having to explain how fucked up it is to take SA, try to tackle it "seriously" but then proceed to not even do it for that reason. Only for it to be for angst and goon material. How do you expect me to SIT HERE and take whatever Viv has to offer seriously? The number of people I have seen trying to justify this gross behavior is abysmal. If you have this kink or whatever, fine not like I can stop you, be into that shit somewhere else, but DO NOT try and TACKLE IT only for it to be not even seen as serious or as a way for you to get off to your sick fantasies.

Why the hell would you like this? "Angel with his abusive rapist boss😝, so hot guys! Can'tstop thinking about it!"

What good reason would Viv have in liking this post? Why do over 4k people find a post like this neat? "Oh they're fictional, it's gucci, stop bitching" wouldn't need to bitch if people didn't outright sexualize moments meant to tackle an irl fucking problem.

By the way, this person ships Angel and Valentino together. Their pinned tweet is legit sexual Val and Angel art. I wouldn't recommend attacking them regardless if you disagree with their ships and what they deem...ugh "hot."

Fair warning to I WILL be showing some of their arts and reblogs as evidence, so if you are not into that sort of thing (anything NSFW), I highly recommend scrolling past my post or past this section of it.

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I'm pretty sure Viv actively searches for this sort of thing on Twitter, like it's PAINFULLY obvious that she does. How you just so happen to like a post clear af lusting for this abusive relationship YOU CLAIMED to take seriously that ALSO happens to be from an account that ships the abuser with the victim? Gtfo with your two-faced shit, just say your find this hot instead of lying your absolute ass off. The audacity for some fans to go after one group of people for liking questionable stuff only to let other questionable things slide. Like homie, you can let rape slide, but draw the line for any other questionable thing? How's about you have that energy for EVERYTHING with your hypocritical asses. Ion wanna hear y'all stank ass make callouts if you're okay with a rapist being shipped with someone he actively harms in various ways.

And Viv

You say this entire sequence is meant to be uncomfortable, meant to not sugar-coat how awful this situation is, and supposedly have people who are victims/survivors themselves, yet here you are liking posts from people who do anything but take it seriously and even sexualize it. That's absolutely insane to me. And reminds me how you were drooling over some pins that glamorize the abuse Angel and supposedly Husk goes through, you know, the same character that COMPARED his abuse with Angel's.

Ah yes, let's downplay how horrible Angel's situation is further, shall we? Let's especially do it after adamantly arguing with other SA survivors who "haven't seen the episode yet" and need to shut up or don't watch 😃. Let's ignore the fact that Husk and Angel's situations STILL aren't comparable but it's still very odd to have pins on TWO situations taken seriously in the show. So do you actually view the situations seriously or not Viv???

God she's....actually fucking stupid and horrid.

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at flying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[kenzie-floops]

Visions of You: A Lilia Calderu x femaledivination!reader

Heyyyy this is my return to fanfic, but it's been a while so I'm a bit rusty. Constructive criticism not insults please! If you don't like it.. don't read it, it's that's simple.

This will be the first part of a new series I'm working on called Visions of You. Reader is a female divinations witch, around the same age as Lilia, but physical appearance is up to you. More will be revealed later, but a happy ending is in store!

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, or taken off, let me know!

Warnings: cussing

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

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I roll over and peep open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. 12:42. What the hell is someone banging on my door this time of day for? 

I push myself up out of bed, and wrap my robe around myself as I make my way to the door. 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! 

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” I shouted. Could they bang any harder on my door?!?

I quickly grab the front door and thrust it open, blinking quickly at the sunlight. 

“Yes? What do you need so urgently you almost banged my door down?” I grumpily ask the two strangers standing at my door as I attempt to wipe away some of the groggy sleep from my eyes. 

“Oh!” A shrill voice pipes up. “Sorry about that, we’re just in a bit of a rush. Didn’t mean to give you such a harsh wake-up. Although it is past noon on a weekday…” The voice trails off and I snap my head up.

I had to pick up an extra shift last night at the club because one of the other bottle girls had gotten sick. That meant working on my feet for longer than usual, and I was definitely tired from the extra hours.

“Listen kiddo, i work the night shift down at the club and i’ve only been asleep for a couple hours, so excuse me if i’m a little grumpy at the fact some kid was banging on my door while i'm trying to rest” i huff out with impatience. “Now will you kindly get off my doorstep? I don’t want your cookies, or t-shirts or whatever the hell it is you’re selling”. 

I turned to close the door when the woman I hadn't noticed standing next to the teenager spoke. 

“Seriously, Y/N? Working at the local club? I didn’t think you had the guts for stripping” she says while snickering. 

I bristle at the insult. “Now just wait a minute here. I’m not a stripper, I'm a bottle girl! And who are you to throw around judgment, showing up on my front door when I don't even know…” I trail off as i get a good look at her face and recognize just who’s come to bother me. No way…

“Well holy shit!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I lean against the door frame and look her up and down slowly.  “Now that’s a face I haven't seen in a few centuries. Agatha fucking Harkness! Can’t say I've missed your presence. What brings you to my doorstep?” 

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Mind if we come in?” she questions as she gestures inside.

I throw my head back in laughter before turning around to go inside, leaving the door ajar. 

“Sure!” I yell over my shoulder. “Come on in. I’m gonna make some tea.” 

Both Agatha and the boy trail after me into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy following my movements as he takes in my kitchen. It’s full of dried herbs and flowers hanging from faded yellow walls. I fling open my aged brown cabinets and rifle around for a mason jar of tea leaves. 

As I prepare my water to boil and place the tea leaves in a sachet I ask “So, what brings you by Agatha? Looking for me to join you on one of your latest murder sprees in the search for some powerful totem?” 

I turn from the counter to face them, seeing that Agatha has already made herself comfortable at my small dining table. The boy was standing awkwardly behind her. 

I look the boy up and down and raise my eyebrows at Agatha. “What’s with the boy?” i question, “Finally taken on an apprentice to teach your dark and evil ways to? He seems quite young to be following in your trail of corrupted darkness.” 

The boy goes to respond, but Agatha cuts him off. “No, no, no, this is Teen and he’s…” She trails off a bit and I go to finish pouring my tea. Teen? That’s a strange name. Whatever. He got himself involved with Harkness, not my problem to deal with. 

“ A pet. Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “He’s my pet. Now listen Y/N i have a proposition for you.” 

I roll my eyes at her. “Agatha, I really don’t know what’s got you at my house stirring shit up, but I can assure you I'm not interested. If your undoubtedly dangerous proposal was all you came for, you best be going now.” 

I move to usher her out the door before ‘Teen’ shouts out. “We’re going on the Witches Road and we want you to join us!” 

He looks down a bit sheepishly as I give a bug eyed stare. 

“Please?” he hesitantly asks. “We need a divination witch and the road will give you what you want most if you join us.” He’s gotta be kidding. The Road is a death wish. 

I swiftly turn to Agatha, who shakes her head in exasperation at Teen. 

“Really, Agatha?!” I exclaim, throwing my hand up in the air and moving wildly around the room. “The Road is a death wish. No one makes it through. What have you deluded this poor boy into thinking?” 

“She hasn’t deluded me!”, Teen replies. “It was my idea actually.” 

I bury my head in my hands. No way am I joining Agatha Harknesse’s coven to journey down the Witches Road. I am not that crazy, despite what some may think and say.

“Oh hell no. Thank you but no thank you for the offer. I plan on staying alive for the foreseeable future. Harkness, take the boy and leave,” I whip around to face her, “ and please don’t come back. I don’t need whatever's got you spooked enough to go on the witches road coming after me”. 

“Oh come on!” she exasperatedly yells. “We both know you’ve been searching for something you’re never gonna find Y/N.” How the hell does she know about that? I’ve never told her of my visions of her. But then again, I asked around for decades. Maybe she caught wind of it through the grapevine of the witch community. 

“Travel the Witches Road with me” she offers. “The Road will give you what you want most when we reach the end”. 

“If we reach the end” I interject. “If.”

She’s right though. If i join them, and can successfully make it to the end of the road it will tell me how to find her. All those visions of her for all those years… Her beautiful brown eyes, her soft curly hair. What I wouldn't give to see her smile for real, and not just in a vision. 

I sigh heavily as I bring my eyes to Agatha’s. I’m seriously considering it, and for a moment I almost say yes… but I know Agatha’s reputation. Even though at one point I would have liked us to be friends, I know I can't trust her. Going on the Road with her would be certain death, and then i’d never find her.

“Agatha…” I start. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now if that's all, get out of my house. I’m tired.” 

“Ok, ok” she says, lifting her hands in mock surrender as she turns to leave. 

Unexpectedly, Teen makes his way towards me. “Here” he says as he places a card in my hand. “This is Agatha’s address. Be here tonight at 6:30 if you change your mind, and I hope you will” he says as smiles. 

“Teen!” Agatha barks from the doorway. “Come on! We don’t have all day” 

Teen runs after her, and as suddenly as they had woken me, they left, and I was there to sit with my own thoughts. 

At least my tea has cooled off enough to drink. 

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

@end0r4

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty three

authors note: the day of the big party has arrived. reminder, this has a time jump. solana is now home from treatment, though that's touched on in here as well.

also, if you watched arrow, i totally use one of my favorite characters from that show for a certain character. don't own him or anything wwe related. lol

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and violence

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Solana stops humming as she rips her gaze from the several pots that she currently has sitting on the fire. “It’s not too late.”

Rolling her eyes, she rubs her hands off on her apron and walks over to her husband. Roman pulls her into him as she lifts her hands around his neck. “Ro…..”

“We could just not open the door.”

“Roman.”

This would be Solana’s welcome home party. Two weeks. She’s been home for two weeks, and it’s been a beautiful transition. Being back with her husband and Dulce has meant the world to her. It’s why she wanted to take some time to enjoy the two most important figures in her life before hosting such a social function.

But now the big day has arrived, and while she’s filled with excitement, her husband…..is not.

“What if I buy you something instead? Like an island? Just for us.” Solana is taken back for a moment. She’s still yet to fully grasp the perennial extent of the Bloodline’s reach and wealth. Of her husband’s billionaire status. “Have security set to shoot to kill if anyone tries to bother us.”

She smiles, because while his words are borderline disturbing, the seriousness in his voice and expression are slightly humorous. “Ro, that’s not nice.” 

Roman also rolls his eyes, Solana having a bit of a hard time taking him seriously. He’s so petulant, like a child. “Baby, how many times we gotta have this conversation? I love you and hate everyone else.”

“Dulce?”

“Tolerable.”

Shaking her head, she shifts her hands to his chest. “This is what I want, Roman. I’ve been gone for so long. I just….I just want to be surrounded by the people I love.” And before he can say anything else, she clarifies, “beyond just you and Dulce.”

“She don’t like this shit either. She likes us. That’s it.”

“That’s not what I heard. Apparently, Jimmy really is her new bestie.” Solana giggles, thinking back to the photos Naomi sent and shared with her of Jimmy sitting on the sofa with Dulce, Dulce even sleeping in the bed with him as he took a nap. Almost identical to the ones she received while they were in Mexico. It seems Roman’s cousin has taken a liking to her sweet little puppy.

Roman looks even more irritated as he shares, “you know he had her sleeping in the bed with him again?” Solana does in fact know. She’s got photographic evidence to prove it. “I swear, I saw her little ass standing up on her legs on the side of our bed like she wanted to get in the other day. She can try that shit with us if she wants to, but—”

Solana leans up and kisses him, effectively silencing his rant. Roman’s hands are on the small of her back, deepening the kiss as his tongue glides across her bottom lip, Solana having to prematurely end the kiss when he starts guiding her towards the nearest clear counter that he doesn’t hesitate to prop her up on.

She knows exactly where this is headed, and she has way too many things left to do before the party kicks off.

Ignoring his scowl at her drawing a line in the sand, she does her best to encourage him, “today is going to be a good day. We’re going to have a good time—”

“debatable.” 

“—and if you can try to be nice and not curse at or hurt anybody—”

“—do you not know who I am?”

“Then after the party and everyone’s gone—” her eyes drop to his chest, a bit of sheepishness overcoming her. “—when it’s just you and me….” Solana pushes past her shyness at even thinking of it, sharing in a quiet voice, “then I’ll do the thing.”

Roman looks skeptical, clearly not following, “the thing?”

Solana swallows. She hates how uncomfortable and embarrassed she feels about discussing this. “You know….the…..thing you want me to do where I…..sit.” 

And it’s that elaboration that brings a smug smile on his handsome face. “You finally gonna sit on my face, baby?”

Solana’s cheeks are flamed and reddened. “Not so loud.” She looks around, as if someone could be eavesdropping on quite literally the most sexual thing she’ll have ever done. “But…..y–yes.” She lifts a finger, reminding him of the stipulation. “But, only if you can b–behave.” 

Roman smirks, dropping his gaze to her chest that looks amazing in her little dress. “For you, I can be very good.” She smiles up at him, “but something before could also be a nice incentive.”

Solana slaps Roman on the chest and tugs herself away, hopping off the counter as he squeezes her ass. “Ro, I have to finish cooking, and Melina should be here any minute.”

He scowls, eyes briefly falling to her ass as she moves back over to the stove. “Who is that again?”

“One of my friends from treatment,” she answers over a sigh, grabbing the almost emptied bottle of Adobo. “I told you that this morning.” 

“Yeah, while you were getting dressed. I wasn’t paying attention to anything except them titties.”

She turns to him, cheeks red, and not from her makeup. “Roman, you can’t…nevermind....can you do me a favor?”

“Can we cancel the party?” She gives him a look, forcing him to resign. “Fine. What do you need?”

She motions to the aluminum trays of food lined up all on the kitchen island. A small part of him feels bad for not helping her cook. He’s far from the best, not even remotely close to her in terms of talent, but Solana woke up at the ass crack of dawn this morning to finish cooking. Because she started yesterday evening, and it’s only occurring to him now that he hasn’t done a ton to help her.

She asked the security around them to set up the backyard, chairs and tables and shit. Now that he thinks about it, she hasn’t asked him for much, really. 

Sighing and realizing his role, or lack thereof, in this thing brings on small amount of guilt.

Roman moves behind her, speaking before she can scold him yet again for trying to distract her. “I’m sorry.” He feels the way she relaxes in his embrace, sees how she angles her head to look at him with all the confusion. “I know this is…important to you, and I don’t mean to be difficult.”

Because it is, and because he doesn’t. He’s immensely proud of her, of how well she’s adjusted to being back home full time after being gone for so long. The least he can do is try to be a bit more supportive, even if just the thought of this damn party and being forced to interact with people makes him physically ill. 

“You? Difficult? Never.” He rolls his eyes at her sarcastic tone as she turns her body inward to his. “It’s okay. I know you’re not very…..social, but it’s just one party. And when everyone’s gone….it’s just you and me.”

Roman loves the sound of that. His dick stiffening at just the thought of her climbing on top and sitting on his fa—

“But until then, party first.” She bursts his bubbles, separating and motioning to the trays. “Now, food, please.”

Roman rolls his eyes but follows suit, reaching for the first set of food that smells delicious and has him tempted to just eat before everyone else arrives. He’s near the back door when she calls behind him. 

“Muchas gracias, papi.”

It’s by the grace of God that he doesn’t drop the tray onto the floor. Truly. Because while Roman is far from fluent in Spanish, he’s picked up a few things. Learned some more since being married to Solana. 

He knows muchas gracias is ‘thank you very much’.

And he knows that papi…..is ‘daddy’.

Solana just called him daddy. 

Fuck.

A quick glance back in her direction reveals a small, coy smile. Intentional. She knows exactly what she just did.

He has to take a minute to compose himself.

This woman will easily be the end of him. 

“Ain’t nobody sleeping tonight,” he says it loud enough so she can hear, the last thing filling his ears is her soft laughter. 

————

“Mrs. Reigns.”

Solana has just finished pouring the pasta into the aluminum pan when she hears her name called by one of the security guards. Turning around, a huge smile falls onto her face as the guard steps aside.

“Melina!”

Solana’s smile is stapled as she carefully places the sizzling pot into the sink and runs a bit of water to prevent staining before shutting it off and heading in Melina’s direction.

A hug is initiated and a lack of tensing is prevalent in both women. The two of them just enjoying the embrace. Solana is the first to pull back, sharing, “I’m so happy you could make it.”

It’s been two weeks since they’ve last seen each other in person, since they completed residential treatment, but they’ve texted consistently since them. A couple FaceTime calls as well. With Cam and Mickie, too. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” Melina’s smile isn’t as big, but it’s just as genuine. That’s just Melina. She looks around the house, eyes widening a bit. “Your house is beautiful.”

Solana starts to correct her. Starts to point out that it was Roman’s first. She just happened to move in when they got married, but she stops herself, because that’s not the truth. This is her home. Hers and Roman’s. It’s just as much hers now as it is his. So, she settles on a much better response, “thank you.” She motions to the kitchen. “You still willing to help me cook?”

Another thing they bonded over includes cooking. Something Melina loves just as much as Solana. 

Melina smirks. “Of course.” She digs into her purse, pulling out the brand new bottle of Adobo seasoning. “Even brought an extra one, just in case.”

Solana gives a big sigh of relief. “I’m running low, too.” She was almost tempted to ask Roman to make a grocery run for her in the event the little she has left wasn’t enough to season the remaining food. “Now, I made most of the main dishes last night. It’s just some appetizers and desserts.”

“You want me to do the conchas and sopaipillas?”

“If you don’t mind?” It would help Solana out a ton. Especially since they’re the favorites of her husband and his ravenous cousins. 

Melina shakes her head. “Of course not, just show me the apron.” 

————

Mickie and Cam show up shortly after, but as both are not cooks and don’t hesitate to express as such, they’re relegated to finishing up some of the little things that need to be done in the backyard.

The Wise Man arrives as well, him and Roman disappearing in his office to discuss some work matters. At least, that would be Solana’s guess for their departure.

A little while later, the doorbell rings and Solana rushes over, excited that the bulk of the guests are preparing to arrive. 

Roman happens to meet her at the same time she’s near the front door, only for her to pause when she overhears a voice.

Jey’s voice.

“.....and when we get up in this house, ya’ll better act right. Don’t break nothing. Don’t burn nothing. And that goes for each other, too. Ya’ll know how your uncle Roman is. He not gon’ hesitate to put us all out, and I’m not trying to have that happen, cause ya mama is refusing to fix dinner tonight, so we gon’ need to ea—Josiah! Did you just flip off your brother?”

“He’s being a dick!”

“Aye, don’t be using that kind of language. I’m not gon keep telling you that!” A pause. “Journee! What happened to the bow in your hair?”

“I don’t want a stinkin' bow!”

“Lil girl, I’m tired of you leaving the house looking homeless. Got people thinking I’m neglecting you and shit!”

“If we’re not supposed to say bad words, how come you can say bad words?”

Solana grabs Roman’s hand and pulls him so they can take a step back. “Are—are those his kids?”

“More like demons, but yes.” Solana gives him that disapproving look. “Hey, you wanted to invite them. I tried to tell you.”

Solana shakes her head. “They’re—they’re probably just having a bad day.”

“Every day is a bad day for them then.” 

Solana slaps him on the arm and clears her throat. She takes one last look at Roman who’s giving her that ‘I tried to warn you’ look, which she discards to open the beautifully designed front door, a big smile on her face when she locks gazed with a grinning Jey.

“What’s up, Soso!” Before Solana can even process what’s happening, Jey is in front of her, hugging her, picking her up. 

She’s almost moved on an emotional level at how this doesn’t trigger her, doesn’t cause her to tense up. Just feels like a warm embrace from a good friend. 

From family.

Jey sets her down on the ground and compliments, “you look good, girl!” She smiles, biting down on her bottom lip. Compliments are still a bit of a struggle for her. Especially ones not from her husband. “We missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Because she did. She missed them all. Solana sets her focus on the set of children, of various ages and sexes. Two girls and two boys who all look like their father in various ways, sans their complexions, which are a few shades deeper. “You must be—”

“Boobies!” Solana’s jaw drops at the exclamation of the boy who’s the tallest and probably oldest. His eyes are as wide, dazed, and mesmerized as he points to her chest. “They’re so big. Are they real?”

“Josiah Fatu!”

He ignores Jey’s harsh use of what Solana would guess is his name. “Can I feel them….” Solana goes to straighten up as the little boy starts to reach for her chest. 

Roman is quick to yank Solana so her back is against his front, his arm wrapped protectively around her as she uses her own forearm to cover the cleavage showing with her dress. “You better get your son before I kill his ass, Jey!”

“I’m so sorry, Soso.” Jey apologizes and turns his attention to Josiah. “Boy, have you lost your damn mind?”

Josiah scowls. “You’re the one who said Aunt Solana has nice tits!”

“I was talking to your uncle Jeremiah, not you!” Jey clears his throat, nervous eyes briefly darting to Roman who Solana absolutely makes sure to hold onto. She can feel his anger growing by the second. “Uhh, let me—let me talk to him for a minute.” Jey then directs the kids, “ya’ll go on in the house, and remember what I said!”

Not even seconds later, the remaining three children dart into the home, Solana yelping and pressing herself into Roman to avoid being run into.

“Don’t be running in my damn house!” Roman calls after them, looking down at Solana as Jey drags Josiah away from the door and to the side. “You see what I’m saying now?”

Solana opens her mouth and then closes it, finally settling on, “they’re just excited an—”

She’s cut short by the sound of glass shattering. Her mouth shuts again as Roman closes his eyes. “Ro, just breathe—”

“What the hell did ya’ll just break?” Roman yells out, and she moves her hands soothingly up and down his chest. “Excited, my ass, Solana. I’m telling you. I’m going to kill one of these kids before the day is over.”

“Roman, you are not going to kill one of the kids,” Solana assures, bringing her hands to his face, forcing his gaze back on her. “It’s—it’s going to be fine. Remember, I—”

The sound of loud laughter and the quick patter of feet, both human and not human, redirect the couples attention as Dulce comes running up to her parents, seeking asylum from the little girls hot on her trail. Quickly, Solana leans down to pick up Dulce who instantly starts whining. 

“Ya’ll leave the damn dog alone,” Roman warns, Solana using her elbow to lightly bump him for his tone. 

“She’s just a puppy, so she gets scared a lot. That—that’s all.” Solana explains in a kind voice, recognizing they probably just want to pet her. “Maybe if—” 

She’s silenced by two of the kids rushing past her and Roman, prompting him to remind them yet again, “I said stop running in my goddamn house!” Roman takes a step back from his wife, shaking his head. Fuck this. “Solana, I can’t do th—”

“Whassup, my dawgs!”

“Sami?” Roman is visibly confused and now even more annoyed at the presence of a genial looking Sami in their doorway “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told Jimmy to invite him,” Solana explains, walking over while still holding Dulce who immediately stops whimpering when she sees Sami. “Hi, Sami. Thanks for coming!”

“Yeah, of course. I would never deny the Tribal Chief’s wife anything.” He says with a nervous thumbs up to Roman who still looks murderous. Sami nervously clears his throat, leaning down to look at Dulce. “And who is this?”

“This is Dulce,” Solana introduces and offers. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Of course!” Sami is careful with how he takes the puppy, who Solana notices immediately starts wagging her little tail. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Well, yes you are.”

“Soso!” Solana looks past Sami to see Naomi and Jimmy, the latter of which bumps his wife out of the way to rush towards her for a hug. Similar to Jey, he picks her up and lightly spins her. “You finally out of lockdown!”

“Jimmy!”

Naomi looks horrified, shoving her husband before pulling Solana in for a hug. Roman just looks pissed. Meanwhile, Jimmy shrugs, sniffing the air. He claps his hands and rubs them together, “man, that food sure does smell good. I’m about to go fix my plate before—”

“No,” Solana interrupts, clarifying. “Kids eat first.”

“Kids?” Jimmy scowls as Sami walks in the house to the back, most likely to head out in the backyard, having handed Dulce to Roman. “Man, Jey’s bad ass kids can wait.”

“Solo is bringing his sons too.”

“He what?” Roman and Jimmy are synched, Solana and Naomi sharing an amused smile. Roman cuts in, asking, “Solana, you’ve never even met his kids.”

“I’ve never met his wife either, but I invited her too.” Solana explains, ready to try to help her husband understand it felt rude to her to invite Solo who, despite rockiness at some points, she has appreciated over the past months serving as her protector when Roman can’t, but not his family.

“Ahhh! Solana!” Bianca’s excited voice sounds, drawing the group's attention to not only her but Jade and their respective partners, Montez and Trick. Solana accepts the hugs and compliments from both ladies.

Montez lowers his sunglasses taking in the mansion, red solo cup in the other hand. “Damn. This how the Tribal Chief living? This shit nice as hell.”

“Gated and everything,” Trick chimes. Both men straighten up and clear their throats at Roman’s irritated, piercing gaze. Trick coughing up a quiet, “sir.”

Roman says nothing, the men following Jade and Bianca as Naomi directs them to the backyard. 

“Oh my gosh!” Melina’s shocked voice sounds as she comes from the kitchen, pointing with a horrified expression. “What the hell is wrong with these children?”

At that, Roman demands Jimmy. “Get them.”

Jimmy shakes his head, running over, disappearing from the line of vision. “Hey! Ya’ll stop trying to kill the Wise Man!” Jimmy’s shout can be heard even if he can’t be seen. “Take that tie from around his neck right—are you recording? Girl, put that damn phone down right now!”

Melina walks over, clearly disturbed, Solana offering both her—and Roman—apologetic smiles.

“I hope they have some weed at this party. I haven’t gotten high in over 12 hours.”

“Mother, you will not get high at this party, do you understand me?”

“You know that old hag doesn’t listen.”

“Suck my dick, Escobar!”

“Abuelita, please!”

The remaining three adults, as well as Dulce, redirect their attention to the next set of arrivals. Bayley and her mother Juanita who are accompanied by a man Solana would guess is Bayley’s father as well as an older woman.

“Solana!” Bayley walks up to Solana, giving her a big, warm hug. One that Solana reciprocates with all the warmth in the world. “Melina?”

“Bayley?”

Confused, watching Bayley move to hug Melina, Solana asks, “you guys know each other?”

Bayley is the one to answer with a soft smile. “She’s been with my cousin Santos for years.” Bayley takes Melina’s hand in hers. “Practically family.”

Wow. That’s a connection Solana most definitely didn’t see coming.

Bayley's dad clears his throat, addressing Roman, “Thank you, sir, for allowing us in your beautiful home.”

“I didn—”

“You must be Bayley’s dad?” Solana cuts off her husband, already knowing he’s about to say something rude. Or worse. She offers her hand. “I’m Solana.”

The older man shifts his focus, accepting the handshake, offering his name as his eyes settle into something almost soft.

And sad.

Juanita steals a hug from Solana, holding onto her a bit as she asks her husband. “Bernardo, who does she look like? I know you’ll know!”

He smiles, but there’s nothing happy about it. “Alma.” Now Solana is the one frowning. “She looks like Alma.”

Instantly, Solana can feel Juanita’s energy shift, matching that of her husbands.

“Who the hell is that?” Roman’s annoyed voice cuts in as he switches Dulce from one arm to the other. 

Bernardo gives a solemn nod, explaining, “My late brother’s daughter. She…..passed away many years ago.”

Oh.

“So, you’re saying my wife looks like a dead woman?”

“Roman!” Solana harshly whispers, though she’s also a bit unsure how to respond to that. “Umm—”

“Got any weed around here?” The older woman who Juanita shares the same eyes and lips with asks in a rough voice, adding on, “though the food smells pretty good too.”

“Mother, please.” Juanita shakes her head, apologizing. “I’m so sorry we had to bring her. She’d been staying at this nice nursing home we found for her, but she got kicked out….again.”

“This is the fourth damn one in six months,” Bernardo mutters. 

“Didn’t even hit that bitch that hard,” Abuelita defends when her gaze suddenly falls to Roman. “Oh.” She walks over to him, her hand on his bicep, Solana seeing the instant look of disapproval and disgust that appears on his handsome face. “Now, you are a man, aren’t you?” Switching her attention to Solana, she so casually asks, “it’s big, isn’t it? Heavy too. I can tell by the way he stands.”

“Abuelita!” Bayley’s face is reddening by the second as she carefully grabs her grandma by the arm. “I’m just gonna take her out back.” She sends Roman an apologetic look and ushers Abuelita away as the older woman asks something about cocaine. Bernardo and Juanita follow suit with Melina excusing herself to check on Conchas.

Left alone with just her husband, Solana relieves him of Dulce, her sweet little baby nestling her head against Solana’s chest. 

“Roman, please, you said you’d behave.”

“Well, that was before I found out you invited half the damn city,” is his counter as he asks, “Solana, just how many people did you invite?”

“Enough,” is her vague answer. She sighs at his unchanging expression of wanting to know. “Okay, I didn’t tell you how many because I knew you’d be annoyed.” 

“I’m not—”

“And I made sure that Jimmy and Jey vetted everyone, so there wouldn’t be any safety concerns,” she offers, hoping that it ebbs away some of his frustration.

Roman has a lot of questions, but the most important one is the one he asks next. “Do they all know—”

“No,” she answers in a quiet voice. “Outside of like the obvious, they all just think it’s a get-together.”

Roman nods. That chips away some of his irritation. Solana’s mental health is not the business of all these damn people. 

“Good.” Is all he says, reaching for Dulce. “It’s best she stay in our room. Away from—”

“Hey, Uce!” Jey suddenly sounds, standing by the still open front door. “You got a ladder or something? Journee ass on the damn roof!”

————

All things considered, it’s a fun time. Solana enjoys serving people and is granted a major confidence boost from all of the compliments she receives over her cooking. It truly warms her heart, almost as much as the seamless meeting and introduction of Bayley and Naomi to the rest of her new friend group: Cam, Mickie, and Melina.

The ladies all seem to get along well, so much so that the conversation and idea regarding a girls trip to Mexico isn’t even something that Solana has to bring up. Some of the other ladies do it for her.

And it’s beyond exciting to her. 

The whole party is an ordeal. Mostly fun with some hiccups. Roman having to eventually delegate all of Jey’s……excited kids to staying in the backyard where they can be monitored. It’s an interesting juxtaposition. Jey’s kids with Solo’s children who are almost scarily obedient. Yes sir and no sir. Staying seated, almost afraid to interact with anyone other than their parents. Solo’s wife, Madi, is also not as friendly as Solana was hoping for, mostly staying with her quiet children. Her nose is turned up almost the entire time too, her arm looped with her husband’s.

Abuelita is placed in the house in the living room where she’s left to watch The Price is Right reruns after being upset at the lack of available substances outside of alcohol.

“What the fuck kind of Mafia boss doesn’t have any drugs in his house?”

It’s an especially fun time with the music, a combination of Rap, R&B, with, of course, Spanish music. The last of those creating many fun memories of Solana, Bayley, Melina and even Juanita sharing some classic Spanish dances with the other attendees.

Though there does reach a point where Roman not so subtly pulls Solana away from dancing, whispering something in her ear that’s far too NSFW with all the children present regarding her tempting him.

She stays by his side for a little bit after that, noticing how he really only interacts with herself, the twins, and the Wise Man. 

That’s it. 

Solana is starting to wonder if he really does hate people as much as he says he does.

A random little thing she does find kind of…..cute almost is the interaction between Nia and Bautista. There….there could be something there.

It’s not nearly as hilarious though as the interaction between the twins, Montez, and Trick. Trick and Jey somehow creating a new combination of  ‘Yeet’ and ‘Whoop that Trick.’

Roman, as expected, is the only one not amused.

He actually looks like he’s in some form of physical pain. 

The real challenge, however, is finding an activity that’s both appropriate and enjoyable for adults and children, especially with such a mixed group of people. Naturally, Uno is the first thing brought up, but logistically, that doesn’t work out for lack of enough cards for everyone. It’s also something that, according to Naomi and Bayley, would end up in probable murder given the competitiveness of the men. Bloodline and not.

A couple of additional ideas are thrown out before the vast majority settles on a simple, easy game of red light, green light.

At least….it was supposed to be easy.

“Damnit!” Bayley cusses as she and Jade are the next set of players to fail to make it to the next round. Jade rolls her eyes and mumbles something incoherent as she flips off Trick who makes a smart comment as she moves back by his side, taking her wine cooler from him.

Bayley comes near Solana who sits on Roman’s lap after having been eliminated in the last round. Of course, Roman opted to not participate, much rather keeping his eyes and focus on Jey’s kids who were also eliminated earlier on.

Especially a smiling Jayla as she sits there counting a surprising amount of money for a young child.

Huh. 

Solana wonders where she got it from.

Bayley shakes her head, downing some more of her coca cola. Like Solana, she’s remained sober thus far. “Shit is hard.”

“Not really,” Roman comments without much consideration as he takes a sip of his beer. Solana doesn’t know what to make of the fact that the stressors of the party thus far have driven her husband to drink. Her husband who rarely ever drinks.

She’s most definitely going to have to make this up to him, though she has a good mind that he’s well ahead of her with that.

Bayley scoffs. “Whatever, Reigns.”

Solana subtly moves her hand on top of Roman’s free hand that’s placed on her stomach, his arm wrapped almost protectively around her.

She starts to lean into his strong chest but ultimately decides against it, mindful of the image. Cognizant of the fact that their current position simply looks like the possessive Tribal Chief making known what belongs to him. A necessity given not everyone present is privy to the fact the marriage between the two of them is so much more than a business transaction, an arrangement common to their world.

It’s real.

As real as their feelings and love for each other. 

“Red light!” Sami calls out. As a self proclaimed ‘master strategist,’ he was easily voted as the one to judge who does and does not make it to the next round. He starts listing off the names of people who moved afterwards. Two of Solo’s sons, Cam, Montez, Carmelo, and Jey.

The almost drunk latter of which is not pleased by. 

At all.

Jey sucks his teeth. “Whatchu’ mean I’m out?” Deep scowl on his face, he argues. “I didn’t even move.”

A group of disagreement sounds, including Roman who says so matter-of-factly, “you moved, Jey.”

“Uce, listen, it’s all good. Maybe in the next game—”

“I said I didn’t move!” Jey snaps, cutting off Sami’s attempt at normalizing his elimination. “Now, let’s keep going.”

Sami walks over and almost nervously runs his hand through his unruly hair. “Jey, man, you—you got eliminated—”

“Imma eliminate your ass if you don’t get the fuck away from me!” Jey’s growing aggressiveness seems to capture the focus of the attendees, current and former players alike. “I don’t know why you’re even here!”

Sami’s eyes go wide as he gestures to himself. “Me? I—” He points toward Solana who has a small frown on her face, seeing where this is headed. “Soso—”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say, a visibly inebriated Jey snapping yet again, “aye, you don’t call her that! She not your family, motherfucker!.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes, calling out as he prepares yet another plate of food. “Fool, would you calm your ass down.”

“Naw, cause I’m sick of this shit. Sick of him acting like he one of us!”

“Hey, I’m just as much Bloodline as you, Uce!”

Jey shoves Sami, forcing the other man to the ground. “Call me that one more time, and Imma lay your homeless looking ass out!”

Roman’s heavy sigh comes from underneath Solana as he lightly taps her stomach, prompting her to get up so he can stand. She does so, watching him roll his big shoulders and walk over to the now arguing men, deep voice declaring, “enough!”

At that, not a single watchful eye isn’t on Roman. The Tribal Chief. “I’m sick of this shit with the both of ya’ll. You want to act like kids? Then I’m gon’ treat you like kids.” Solana swallows. Everything about her husband is so commanding and powerful. From the way he stands, to the way he speaks, even his presence. One knows who he is without even needing to really know who he is. “I don’t believe in airing shit out in public. I believe in handling it like men or in the ring, but since you two can’t seem to do that, I want you to lay it all out because I want this problem fixed. Right now.” Roman ends his speech with an almost growl, the Wise Man rushing over as Roman turns away, his back toward Jey and Sami, head down, hands clasped together.

Power.

A wide eyed Paul looks between the other men, “the—the Tribal Chief said—”

“Of course,” Sami cuts him off, standing again and looking down a bit as he seems to struggle with how to start. “Well, uhh, okay, umm.” Solana briefly surveys the backyard. From the youngest to the oldest, all eyes are on the scene before her. “I’ll be the first to admit, there’s been a bit of a communication breakdown as of late, and it’s been pretty specifically with Jey, but I gotta be honest, I don’t understand exactly what’s going on here.” Solana neither. She just suddenly remembers it was Jey and Sami who got into it during WarGames all those months ago and still haven’t seemed to hash it out. “I–I like you. Man, I like you. I’ve always liked you. But, it seems ever since I joined the Bloodline, I don’t know what it is, but it seems you can’t seem to stand me, and I don’t understand it.” He motions to Jimmy who’s eating. “Jimmy seems fine.” He points out to each man that he begins to list. “Solo seems fine. The Tribal Chief seems fine. The Wise Man seems….not fine, but that’s okay. Everyone, for the most part, seems fine except you, and I don’t know what I did to offend you. I really don’t. But, whatever I did to offend you, but whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t want this to keep going on like this anymore.” He steps closer to Jey. “Seriously, I’m sorry. Whatever I did. I’m sorry. So, can we just be cool? Can we bury the hatchet once and for all?” Sami now has his hand extended to Jey. A peace offering, of sorts.

Solana finds herself waiting with a withheld breath, Bayley beside her, watching just as keenly as she is. 

It’s a good minute before Jey speaks. “Sami, you got about two seconds to get that out my face.” There’s a chorus of hushed reactions around the yard, Solana sighing heavily. So much for peace. “I don’t like you.” That much, to anyone with good eyes, is painfully obvious. “I don’t like your hair. I don’t like your face. I don’t like that shirt you wearing.” Solana can admit she found the black shirt with ‘the honorary uce’ written in red letters a bit….much. “Hey, hey! I don’t like you being around my family every single week. My dawg this, My dawg that.” Jey mocks, anger rising in his tone and body language. “How you think you part of the Bloodline, and you ain’t blood!” Solana swallows, redirecting her attention to Roman who has his eyes closed. She can see it. His own wrath growing at his clear directions not being followed. This problem is far from moving in the direction of fixing. “Newsflash for you, Sami. You never will be, Uce. You don’t belong here.” Solana looks back over at Sami, feeling bad for him. To be talked to like this in front of everyone has to be embarrassing. It also makes her feel personally responsible, to some extent.

She maybe shouldn’t have invited him. Especially if she knew how tense things were between him and Jey.

“Don’t nobody in this group like you. I’m just the realest one to say it out loud. You’s a fake ass, Uce.” Damn. “You know what the difference between you and me is? I shed blood for every single one of my family members here, because it’s my family! Not yours!” Silence. “Would you do it? Huh? Would you? I’m asking you a question! Would you—”

‘Why are you yelling at me, huh?” Sami finally cuts in, raising his voice a little as well. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m trying to make peace!” He’s outright shouting at this point, face turning red from his own escalating anger. He then points to Roman. “The Tribal Chief said he wants peace!”

“Man, I don’t give a damn what the Tribal Chief say!”

Solana can’t look at Roman fast enough. Her eyes widening in alarm as his head shoots up, his expression something both shocked and cold. Solana doesn’t rip her gaze from him, seeing how he slowly turns his head and then his body in the direction of Jey, who doesn’t look nearly as terrified as everyone else seems right now.

She’s almost certain she hears Montez mumble something about, “oh, that nigga dead now for sure.” Trick murmuring back, "rip to the homie. yeet for life."

Roman’s fury is palpable, felt and stretched across the spacious backyard. He’ livid. Naturally, she moves to go by him, to try to calm him down. Irritation is one thing, like his annoyance with the party. But, this is something different. Deeper. Heavier.

She doesn’t like seeing him this upset. It worries her for his blood pressure.

However, Bayley suddenly reaches for her, stopping her, subtly shaking her head. Solana starts to pull away when it hits her.

She can’t interfere. 

Because if Roman were to back or even calm down because of her, it would reveal the influence she has on him. It would expose some depth of his feelings for her, and that can’t happen. For a variety of reasons. So, she remains where she is, despite the coiling in her stomach.

She lets the Tribal Chief do what needs to be done.

Sami, surprisingly, is the one to try to interfere as Roman steps closer and closer to Jey, big shoulders squaring, fist forming at his side. “Hey, uhh, My Tribal Chief, Jey didn’t—he didn’t mean that. He just—” Sami is silenced by Roman shoving him nearly across the damn yard, the man tumbling to his bottom looking even more flustered.

But, the focus isn’t on him for long, because before Solana can even process what’s happening, Roman is on Jey. Tackled to the ground, Jey is suddenly under the onslaught of Roman’s heavy fist raining blow on top of blow onto him. 

Solana is momentarily taken off guard, briefly in a state of shock, both at what’s unfolding before her but also the lack of anyone trying to intervene. Even Jimmy. Even Jey’s kids who Naomi tries to herd and steer from seeing their father being so brutally beaten.

She doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or how to respond. A part of her wants to call out for her husband, try to pull him from his fit of rage, but it’s when she thinks about it, really thinks about, she knows she can’t. 

She could, but it would only make things worse.

Solana hates this for Jey, hates this for her husband, hates this for both of them.

But……she also knows that Jey messed up. Really messed up. To say something so disrespectful is one thing, but to say it so loudly and boldly in front of a group of people is an entirely different ballpark.

Jey publicly disrespected Roman. Disrespected his Tribal Chief in front of people, thus Roman has to address it properly.

And violently.

Jey’s coughing up blood as Roman stomps on his ribs. She has to turn her head, to look away. This is the side of Roman she knows exists but would rather never see. The same way she knows he would prefer she never see either.

“Acknowledge me!” His furious voice travels through the yard and penetrates everyone’s five senses. It also makes Solana realize he’s been saying as such for the past few minutes. Demanding it. “Now!”

Jey is beaten pretty badly, blood spilling from his nose and seeped in between his teeth as he opens his mouth. It’s an ugly thing. All of it. And Solana notices the slight snarl of his lip before he forces out, “I—I acknowledge you—” he coughs up a mixture of phlegm and blood. “My Tribal Chief.”

Roman’s heaving, hulking figure straightens, his hair now down, having come out of his bun. The next thing to come out of his mouth sending chills down her spine. “If you ever disrespect me like that again, I’ll kill you.”

Solana doesn’t want to believe he’s being honest. That he’s telling the truth. She’d prefer to believe that he’s putting on a show of sorts, because he has to. Because he has to show his dominance. But, there’s a part of her that knows he’s not lying.

He means that.

Roman doesn’t look her way as he announces to the crowd, “party’s over!” She wants to be surprised at that, but she’s not. Maybe a bit disappointed. But, not surprised. “Everyone get the hell out of my house!”

He keeps his focus on the house and motions for the Wise Man to follow him as he stomps out, again without sparing her a single look.

Roman only needs to speak once, Solana seeing the people starting to throw their trash away as they clearly prepare to depart.

“This is my fault,” Solana finally speaks, turning to Bayley. Shaking her head, eyes watering, she shares, “I should have never—”

“Solana, it wasn’t your fault.” Bayley places her hands on Solana’s shoulders, explaining. “Jey….Jey should have known better than to say some dumb shit like that. I thought they were past all that.”

At that, Solana frowns, catching out the corner of her eye as Naomi and Jimmy tend to Jey. “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, like when they were in their twenties, Jey and Roman hit some sort of rough patch. I don’t know all the details, just what Naomi told me. But, I guess Jey was being difficult and almost testing Roman, in private and in front of other Bloodline members. It got to the point where Jey even challenged Roman for the title as Tribal Chief.”

Solana gasps. That’s the last thing she expected to hear. Even more surprising than the brutal beatdown she just witnessed. “What?”

Bayley nodded. “It was an in-ring fight, something to do with their Samoan traditions. Obviously, Roman won, and Jey officially acknowledged him. They’ve been fine since then, so I don’t know where that came from or what inspired it, probably the alcohol, but….just know it wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure Roman hated he had to do that in front of you, but he couldn’t just let Jey disrespect him like that.” And then, clearly wanting Solana to understand that Jey actually got off easy, she adds, “if he wasn’t family, Roman would have killed him. He wouldn’t have had a choice.”

And if that was the alternative, Solana is filled with an overwhelming amount of appreciation for what just transpired.

The lesser of two evils. 

“This was exciting!” Abuelita’s enthusiastic tone sounds from beside them, Solana seeing her accompanied by Juanita and Bernardo. “That husband of yours is a beast.” It’s said in an almost complimentary tone.

Bayley rolls her eyes. “Abuelita, please.” She shakes her head, asking Solana, “do you want me to stay behind and help you clean up?”

She thinks about it for a moment, remembering that Roman already arranged to have a cleaning crew handle outside. Inside is relatively easy to tackle. Definitely something she can handle on her own. “No. That’s okay…..I’ve got it.”

Bayley nods and reminds Solana to call her if she needs anything, the Tribal Chief's wife bidding farewell to some of the other attendees before briefly bringing her attention back to Jey. 

Solana happens to catch Solo saying something to Jey, prompting the latter to shove his little brother. Jimmy jumps in, ushering Jey away while Solo smirks. 

She’s curious about whatever it is that Solo said, but she’s mostly focused on Jey. For someone who was objectively in the wrong, he doesn’t look remorseful or contrite.

He looks angry.

————

It’s after everyone has left that Solana seeks out her husband. An intentional thing because she also wants to grant him some space to calm himself down. 

He’s in the bathroom, in the shower, based upon the sound of the running water. 

A glance at Dulce who’s sleeping peacefully in her bed, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue what drives her to go for the hem of her dress as she pulls it up and over her head. It falls to the floor as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, also allowing it to fall to the floor. And finally, with a deep breath, she slides her underwear down her legs, letting them join the rest of her clothes.

Stepping out of her shoes, she moves in the direction of the bathroom door, completely ignoring all sudden insecurity regarding her nakedness. Solana closes her eyes and swallows as she carefully opens the door, walking in, eyes shifting to the shower.

As expected, he’s standing there under the running water, back toward her, hands braced against the wall, head dropped.

Solana frowns. She can practically feel his distress.

Closing the door behind her, Solana is intentional about her footsteps, doing her best not to catch his attention. Something that’s highly unlikely but exactly what happens. Even as she steps into the spacious shower, water instantly drenching her just as much as it soaks him due to the several showerheads.

She’s nearly inches away when he turns around, harsh expression instantly melting into something of shock and confusion. Her lips go dry as his gaze briefly drops to her naked body, water droplets rolling off her heavy breast and down the slope of her pudgy belly.

“Solana….” His eyes shut as she moves toward him. Her hands rest on his chest, as she chews on her bottom lip. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, shaking her head as the water continues to soak her hair, weighing it down just as much as his. “You don’t—it’s okay.”

Eyes opening, his expression is as pained as his voice. “I don’t like you seeing that side of me….” 

She knows. Knows that he’s always tried to be mindful of his temper around her, tried to always and only show her the caring side reserved just for her. But, that’s just it. “There’s no side of you that I don’t love, Roman.”

Because it’s the truth. 

Because if there’s one thing that Solana has learned, especially after meeting and speaking with Fetu, it’s that Roman never stood a chance. From a young child, he was groomed and tailored into the killer he is now. He wasn’t given the space and freedom to ever be anything but the best and to be unfeeling. She’s happy that with her, he has some escape, but she also knows that majority of the time, he can’t be that.

He has to be the Head of the Table.

And that’s exactly who he was in this situation.

Who he had to be.

The Tribal Chief.

“I’m not scared of you, Roman…” She murmurs, wondering if that’s part of the concern. She moves her hands to his cheek, stressing, “I could never be scared of you.” 

He seems relieved by that. But, still torn. Solana’s stomach coils a bit as he moves his hands to her waist and pulls her against him. Her eyes shut feeling his impressive length, even in a flaccid state, against her stomach. 

It gives her an idea.

Dropping one hand and venturing it down his chiseled, wet body, Solana shoves away her nerves as she touches him, wraps her fingers around him as best she can given his girth.

Roman hisses, eyes closing again. “Solana….”

He’s so good to her, always so good to her. She just wants to return the favor. Wants to take away some of his burdens the same way he never hesitates to take away hers.

Gradually sliding her hand down his dick, feeling his grip on her hips tightening—as well as the hardening in her hand—she licks her lips and murmurs a simple request. 

“Show me how to please you……”

————

After their lovemaking in the shower, Solana manages to encourage Roman to take a nap, recognizing his exhaustion from the day’s events. Something he only agrees to because she agrees to nap with him. Not that much of a sacrifice considering she’s probably just as exhausted as him.

And it’s clearly much needed sleep for her husband who doesn’t even stir when she moves to take Dulce outside to pee.

It just so happens that Solana is about to ascend the staircase, Dulce ahead of her and already heading back to the room courtesy of Jimmy teaching her how to go up and down the steps, that she hears the doorbell. She pauses on the first step, quickly and mentally going over who could be ringing their doorbell at almost 10pm at night.

She starts to ignore it, not sure if it’s a good idea to open it, but Solana also remembers the gate. The secured gate as well as security that constantly patrols the premises. No one who Roman wouldn’t want getting past, for safety reasons, would be ringing their doorbell. 

Especially this late.

It’s why she eventually settles on closing her up the front of her robe and walking over to the door, opening it. And when she does, she’s instantly wondering if it was a good idea. Two men. Both tall. Very tall. Built. One moderately more built than the other. Both their complexions are tanned, but the man with the bald head wearing expensive looking glasses and half a sleeve that peeks through his short sleeve polo is a brick. 

Solana has always thought Roman to be muscular, but this man could give her husband a run for his money.

It’s the other man though, long hair pulled back in a slightly messy bun. Similar to how Roman keeps his hair. It’s as he lifts his sunglasses from off his face and sets it atop of his head that she sees something so familiar. 

Eerily familiar. 

“Hi.” She finally finds her voice, clearing her throat as she asks, “can I help you with something?”

“We’re looking for Roman.” The familiar looking one speaks with a slightly thick accent as he asks with a small smirk. “Is he home?”

Solana’s not sure where it comes from, but something almost protective fills her as her grip on the door tightens just a bit. “What—what do you want with my husband?”

The slightly taller one smiles “Solana.” He lazily rakes his eyes over her in a way that’s not objectively problematic but makes her shift her weight from one leg to the other. “Of course.” She’s not sure how to feel about him knowing who she is, but it’s a short lived concern, because not even a full minute later, a welcome familiarity appears.

“Sol.” Roman’s deep voice calls her attention, startling her. She turns around to see him only a few steps above the ground, shirtless, wearing only dark joggers. Slowly, he steps down to the floor and she naturally moves beside him. Solana holds onto his arm as he focuses his attention on the two men. His face shifts into something of surprise. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

The one who identified her by name chuckles. “Good to see you too, cousin.”

Solana frowns. 

Cousin?

“Solana.” He looks down for a second, gesturing to the other two. “These are my….my cousins. Dwayne and Matteo.”

There’s a brief look of something in Matteo’s face, something that’s pushed away as he offers an almost charismatic smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Solana.” His eyes twinkle almost as he asks. “Solana….that’s Spanish, right? Sunshine?”

Her smile is a bit less reluctant to appear. He seems so…..pleasant. “It is. Do you speak it?”

“I do. One of the languages I picked up in my younger years. A beautiful language.”

She’s taken back by him speaking to her in Spanish but naturally, she responds in the same language. “Yes, it is. You speak it well.”

“Well, thank you. I take it you are native?”

She nods. “My mom was Mexican. She taught me.”

“What the fuck are you saying to her?” Roman cuts in, irritation present in his deep voice. “Speak English.” She keeps herself from rolling her eyes. A playful thing in intention but something that could be perceived as disrespectful, she’s certain. “Answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Solana is also partially curious what could have apparent cousins at their front door at such an hour. Something tells her it’s nothing good.

“We need to talk.” Dwayne answers, smile wiped from his face, tone solid and firm.

Solana looks up when she feels Roman tap her hip. Voice dipping a bit in volume, he instructs, “go upstairs.”

She’s not sure why, but there’s a level of anxiety that forms following his instruction. It makes sense. He clearly needs to talk business, and that’s something she doesn’t need to be present for. But, there’s something about leaving him alone with these two random men that makes her feel scared.

Scared for him.

She doesn’t want to leave him.

Roman must recognize this, thumb gently and subtly moving over her hip. “Go.” It’s firmer this time around, but she hears it. Hears the unspoken please in it.

Nodding, she offers Dwayne and Matteo a small smile. “It–it was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” Matteo answers, eyes briefly flicking to Roman. “We are family, after all.”

Solana sees the slight snarl of Roman’s lip and almost palms his cheek, a comforting gesture when she remembers where they are and who they’re in front of. Clearing her throat, she instead takes heed to his guidance, moving up the steps and into their bedroom where she closes the door.

Solana is barely out of the line of vision when Dwayne, who had his eyes glued on her retreating figure, the switch of her hips and sway of her ass the entire time, comments to Roman, “I see why you haven’t come yet.” He smirks, heading in the direction of Roman’s office. “At least not to Italy.”

Roman gives a chuckling Matteo a look that could kill, if possible, walking without another word to his office where Dwayne already sits, plopped on the sofa.

“What happened?” Is the first thing Roman asks after sitting down at his desk. Because Dwayne wouldn’t have come all this damn way for something that could be covered in a phone or video call.

Matteo smirks. “Maybe he missed home.” 

Roman glares. It’s bad enough he has to be around him at his official office but now the fucker is in his home too. Today has just been a complete shitshow. “And maybe I should put a fucking bullet in your head.”

Dwayne sighs. “Brothers.” But, before Roman can spear him through the nearest wall, Dwayne gets to business. “We have a problem.”

“Obviously,” Roman hisses. “What is the problem is is what I want to know.”

“We had a shipment infiltrated. Stolen. 7 figures worth of arms. Eight men killed,” Matteo explains, cutting right to the chase as he sits in the chair opposite Roman’s desk. “IT found a phone on the scene. Russian.”

“The Russians?” At that, Roman scowls. “That doesn’t even make any sense. Our alliance with them has been strong for almost twenty years. Why would Knyazev risk that?”

Anatoly Knyazev. Leader of the Russian mob, the same man Roman secured and formed an alliance with as one of his first accomplishments as Capo. The older man is smart, seasoned, and practical, for all things considered. He rules ruthlessly but wisely. For them to interfere in Cosa Nostra business makes no sense whatsoever. 

“I agree,” Matteo voices. “But, the administration isn’t happy. The loss of product is one thing, but our men’s blood being spilled is another thing entirely.”

Roman curses quietly. Product can be replaced. Lives can’t. And while Roman feels nothing of the sort, the Administration views any and all members of the Cosa Nostra as family. From the little man to their top assassins. Loss of life is something they don’t stand for.

At all.

“They want vengeance,” Dwayne supplies, clearly reading Roman’s mind. 

“They’re not going to do shit,” Roman growls, slamming his fist on the table. “The last thing we need is a war with our biggest ally.”

Especially with very little proof outside of a damn phone that very well could have been staged, which is exactly what Roman is betting on. 

“I agree,” Dwayne sounds, “but guess who’s going around trying to instigate?” 

Roman doesn’t even have to think. “Luca.” This fucker has always been annoying, even in the few interactions Roman had with him, but now he’s older and even more annoying. Starting shit that Roman is going to have to deal with, and if there’s one thing Roman hates, it’s having to clean up other people’s messes. 

Matteo nods, leaning forward in his chair. “I told you. He wants you out. Bad. Personally, I think he was behind it.” Roman’s intrigue must show, his desire to hear more, proven by his continued silence. The other man explains. “You were right in that the business is the best it’s ever been under your command, but if he can change that, can make it seem like we’re starting to fall off the top of the food chain. Make it seem like you don’t care about the Cosa Nostra—”

“He can make a case to uproot me,” Roman finishes in a dark tone. 

“Or worse,” Dwayne adds, shaking his head. “Look, Roman. It’s obvious there’s some shit going on that we haven’t figured out, but until then, we have to be careful. Matteo and I are the only ones who seem to find the Russians deciding to start shit after years of partnership fishy. And to be honest, we need to keep it that way. Keep our speculation between us, because we don’t know who we can trust. Especially with Luca’s ass in the background scheming.” Dwayne leans back in his seat. “The Administration wants a briefing though. Wants to know how we proceed. If we strike back. And they’re not going to want to hear shit from the mixed breeds. At least not Matteo and I.”

Roman looks away, already knowing what’s coming.

“You need to go there. Make a statement. Not a phone call or video conference. In person. Make your orders clear. Reaffirm and remind them that you’re the Capo.” Matteo isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know. Not that makes hearing it any better. “You can’t push this off anymore, Roman.”

“He’s right,” Dwayne agrees. “The longer you wait, the more it looks like your priorities are for the Bloodline only. That you’re only capable of running one, meaning it’s time for new leadership.”

His words drip with a truth that only has Roman’s anger rising. “Unfortunately, because it’s clear there’s an uprising brewing, you coming now puts you at higher risk for an assassination attempt. You’ll have to travel covertly. I’ll take care of that. I just need you to get on the damn plane.”

None of that is surprising as Roman provides his timeline. “Two weeks.” Both Matteo and Dwayne seemed far from pleased at this. Oh fucking well. “I have Bloodline business to handle next week. I can leave the week after.”

It’s not a lie. Jey’s little stunt will require a more public display of dominance, and what better way to remind everyone of who runs things than a public execution?

It’s time to grant Drew MCIntyre that match he’s been so desperate to have. Roman having his Wise Man make the arrangements earlier following Jey’s outburst.  

“Fine. Two weeks,” Matteo relents. As if he had a choice. “You’ll need to stick around at least a week. Or two. A day or two appearance will give off the indication you’re uninterested and being performative.” Again, not something Roman doesn’t already know, but again again, there’s an issue. A huge issue.

Solana.

It’s only been two weeks since she completed treatment and returned home from the residential facility. But, in those two weeks she’s expressed on several occasions the best thing about being back home is being with him.

With Roman.

And now he has to leave her. Has to handle business. Dangerous business. A situation that could very well end up in some type of attempt on his life.

That doesn’t bother him. Roman’s been attacked and the subject of assassination attempts his whole damn life. It’s almost boring to him at this point.

What does bother him, however, is Solana knowing about this. Knowing the real reason why he has to fly halfway across the world seemingly out of nowhere. 

Which is why she can’t know.

He can’t and won’t put that on her. She already worries about him. If she knew the real reason for the trip, she’d be terrified and beg him to not go. And not going simply isn’t an option anymore. He’s almost wishing he had just gone before. 

It might have been a hell of a lot easier leaving her then compared to now when there’s so much more at stake.

Fuck.

“This conversation needs to remain between the three of us. No one else.” Matteo’s reminder irks Roman. He’s not fucking stupid.

Dwayne senses Roman is about to say some out of pocket shit, cutting in, “Matteo. You said you may have some contacts to further investigate what really happened with the shipment, right? Reach out. See what you can find.”

Matteo nods, smirk on his handsome face. “Already on it.” 

Dwayne mirrors his expression. “Good.” He then gestures to Roman. “Let me talk to this asshole alone, please.”

Matteo scoffs quietly, standing up and adjusting his collar. “My pleasure.” He shoots his younger, half brother a wry grin. “Your wife is much better company than you.”

Roman shoots up from his desk, wanting to pitch something after Matteo’s laughing, retreating form.

“I like that guy,” Dwayne also laughs, lifting his hands in a surrender motion when Roman directs his murderous gaze to him. “Still a sensitive subject, I see.”

Roman plops back down in his chair, looking off as he asks his cousin, “you trust him?”

Dwayne’s answer is almost an instantaneous thing. “Wouldn’t have sent him here or brought him to your house if I didn’t.” It’s similar to his response when Roman first inquired about Matteo being sent as the ‘spy’ for the Cosa Nostra. “We’re gonna have to play this careful, Roman. I can’t describe it yet, but I got a feeling some shit is about to go down.”

Roman doesn't say anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not listening. Not planning. Strategizing. 

“Solana….” The change in subject takes him a bit by surprise. “How she doing?”

Discussing certain details regarding Solana and her mental health is something few are privy to. Roman can count on one, maybe two hands who knew Solana has been away receiving mental health treatment. To most, she was hurt and shot that night at the lounge and has been away recovering. That’s the story Roman wanted put out in an effort to protect her privacy.

But, Dwayne is one of those few who knows the truth about where she’s been.

And why she was there.

“Better.” A part of him wants to say much better, because she seems that way, but he also doesn’t want to get too comfortable. To let his guard down. “She said it helped a lot. Medication seems to be making a difference too.”

“Good. She seems sweet.”

“She is.” The kindest person Roman has ever met. Much too kind for someone like him.

Dwayne sits back in his seat, wolfish grin on his face. “That’s a fine woman you got there, brotha.” And just like that, Roman’s older cousin is teetering the thin line between life and death. “Not sure I’d want to leave her either.” Brows furrowed, Dwayne asks, “what’s the Bloodline business?”

Roman quickly catches his cousin up on today’s events. Jey’s disrespect, mostly. 

Dwayne’s response, however, is another thing Roman wasn’t entirely expecting. “You did what you had to do. Jey knows how this goes. He brought it on himself.”

There’s not a ton of disagreement there. Doesn’t make him feel much better about it though.

“Well,” Dwayne releases a heavy sigh, standing up after slapping his thighs. “I better get out of here. That son of a bitch Austin owes me a beer.”

Roman chuckles. “Just one?”

Dwayne’s smile is as mischievous as whatever he has planned once walking out that door. “Or two.”

A smile breaks on Roman’s face as he stands up, sharing a brief hug with his cousin. He has a strong feeling the next time he sees him will be on Italian soil. “Be safe.”

“I’m not the one with a bounty over my head, brotha.” It’s both comical and serious at the same time, in only the way Dwayne can achieve. “Tell that fine ass wife of yours I said goodnight.”

At that, Roman cuts his eyes, shoving his chuckling cousin away. “Shut the fuck up.”

Giving himself a few minutes to settle and push away any sign of stress or frustration, it’s not until about ten minutes later that he returns to the bedroom.

Roman is unsurprised to find Solana sitting on the middle of the bed, earbuds in, writing away in her journal. However, she’s almost immediately aware of his presence, ripping out those same buds and shutting her notebook. She’s instantly climbing off the bed and walking over to him.

“Are you okay?” Her hands ghost over his arms, as if she’s trying to feel for some sort of injury. “What was that about?”

He shrugs. “Just business stuff.” Not a lie. Just a very vague answer.

“This late?” Truth be told, the work never stops in this life, but he knows that’s not exactly what she’s referring to. “It’s—it’s something bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” The answer—a lie—comes out much easier and smoother than he’d like it to. “Just something that needs to be handled, and I’ll handle it.”

 “But—”

“Hey.” He brings his hands to her waist, sneaking them past the open robe she wears, partially wanting to take it off her entirely. The two piece pajamas she has on deserve to be seen and not cloaked in any way. “Everything’s okay. Alright?”

She still looks concerned, and he hates that. Hates all of this. The lying to her, especially. “You would….you would tell me if it wasn’t….right?”

No.

That’s what he wants to say. The truth. Roman would and will absolutely keep anything and everything from her if it meant/means keeping her safe. Even if it makes her upset with him. He’ll deal with that.

He’ll take it any day, because her safety is the most important thing to him. 

Mentally and physically. 

“Yes.” Even if it makes him have an almost visceral reaction at having to lie to her like this. Even if it is for the better. “But nothing’s wrong, so there’s no need to worry, alright?” 

He needs to tell her about the trip. That he has to leave in two weeks. There’s definitely no way around that, but it doesn’t need to happen tonight. Especially when he needs to work out the details and logistics, because Roman’s been administering Solana’s medication to her every morning since her release. She doesn’t even know where he keeps it, where he keeps any of the prescription and OTC pills in the house. Because he has them all hidden, something he’s not sure he’ll ever feel ready enough to change.

He also takes her to her continued weekly therapy appointments with Gail.

All of that can’t be interrupted with his absence, but the same person he called before to stay with her while he was gone to see his aunt is the same person he still holds partially responsible for Solana’s attempt in the first place.

Bayley.

Roman won’t make that mistake ever again.

So, until all of that is figured out, he’ll say nothing.

Plus, he already feels bad enough for ruining her party. No need to ruin her night as well.

At least with the party thing, he can make that up. He will make that up. Even if it means what he has planned including more people than he originally accounted for. The thought alone is far from exciting, but he’s determined to do right by her this time around.

Even if it does mean forcing himself to behave.

Somewhat.

Solana is visibly less anxious, but the remaining apprehension seems to melt away the minute she presses herself into his chest. She’s instantly relaxed and so is he. Having her in his arms seems to give him just as much comfort as she gets from it.

“Roman?”

He runs his hand across her back. “Hmm?”

Peering up at him is a mixture of skepticism and worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Not exactly. “You said you’d try talking to me more.”

He did. And he will, but the full extent of what is now on his plate is a weight he can’t and won’t share with her. He won’t burden her with his woes. 

He can, however, give her something.

“Jey…..” Because that’s most definitely not a lie. The shit with Jey was the last thing he expected to happen today. Almost as unexpected as Dwayne’s visit. “The twins annoy me majority of the time, but they’re still….still my family.”

“You didn’t want to do that, Roman.” Solana is suddenly comforting him, her soft voice offering what he already knows to be true but appreciates hearing. “You……you didn’t have a choice. Jey….Jey should understand, right?”

“Should.” There’s a conflicted hint to his voice, because Jey should have known better than to disrespect Roman like that in front of an audience. Because truth be told, Roman would not have responded so violently had it even just been the usual group of Naomi, Bayley, and Jimmy. Even the Wise Man. Roman would have preferred a different, less physical route, but that wasn’t an option. The ‘choice’ Roman made was really the only choice he could make without looking weak in front of others.

Solana hugs him a little tighter, continuing to put him on a pedestal he has no business being on. “You’re a good man, Roman. I know….I know you don’t believe it, but you are.” 

That’s because she has no idea a fraction of the things that he’s done. If she truly knew the horrors he’s committed over the years, the lives he’s taken, she’d never look at him the same.

He sometimes wonders if she’d even still feel the same way.

If she’d still love him.

Solana leans up and kisses his cheek before taking his hand in hers. Sliding her robe off and tossing it onto the bed, she murmurs, “let’s go to bed.” Roman wordlessly follows her over to the California King bed, watching her move her journal and case for her earbuds onto the nightstand as she pulls him down with her. Naturally, Solana falls into their go-to sleeping position. Her body nearly on top of his, her arm sprawled across his abdomen and her head on his chest.

She’s partially soothed by the way he keeps his hand planted on the small of her back. Partially because something tells her Roman isn’t being entirely honest about whatever conversation he had with his cousins she’s never even heard of until this evening. In all the time they’ve been together, she doesn’t remember once anyone ever coming to their home this late to discuss business. 

Maybe a phone call.

Never an in-person visit. 

A part of her wants to push him on it, but she also knows the Jey situation is still bothering him, so she doesn’t want to overwhelm him. 

But, the other part, maybe an even bigger part doesn’t want to because it feels hypocritical. Him to be honest with her when she’s not being entirely honest with him. When she actually wanted to tell him something instead of asking again if he’s alright.

A split second decision being made to keep certain information to herself until she’s 100% sure, because she knows that he’ll most likely have to inform the Elders he’s spoken about a couple of times. And the last thing she wants is to send him with a message that ends up being a false alarm.

Because her period has been late before. Sometimes up to two weeks late. It’s just that this is the first time it’s been late with her being sexually active. With her having regular sex with her husband as a potential variable. Regular, unprotected sex.

But again, she’s not certain. Wants to give it a little while longer before she finally pulls out one of the pregnancy tests she’s had collecting dust in one of the cabinets in their master bathroom. It’s too soon though. Too many other things it could be besides that.

So, until then, she waits.

She’ll wait until it’s 100% confirmed, without a doubt, that she’s pregnant.

Ignoring that small, nagging gut feeling that she already knows the answer.

Knows that she is, without a doubt, pregnant.

[loulovingho]

Uncle Eddie

(ao3 link)

Buck was going to rip his hair out. Every single hair on his head was going to come out and he was sure it would provide relief from the screaming that was currently happening in his ear.

Juniper was six months, teething, and screaming. Blood curdling screaming that had been nearly nonstop for the last five hours.

“I'll try the teether again,” Tommy said, hurrying into the kitchen to grab it from the freezer.

“She hates it,” Buck replied. “She hated it the last two times we tried it, she's gonna hate it this time.”

“Well, what would you like me to try, Evan?” And maybe the question came out a little more bitingly than he intended. “We've done a wet washcloth, a cold spoon, multiple teethers.”

A wail cut through his words.

“We could try the drops?”

Buck shot him a glare. “You mean those natural oil drops that lady convinced us to buy at the store?”

Tommy knew where this was going. “Yes, those are the ones.”

“The ones we bought instead of the infant ibuprofen?”

“Evan.”

“The drops we've tried two times that Juniper has thrown up with two times?”

“I'm really just running out of solutions here, Hun.”

“You can take those drops, find that lady, and shove them directly up her a-”

“Okay, no to the drops.”

“I need you to stop trying to find solutions,” Buck snapped, “and start helping me.”

“I'm trying to help by finding solutions, Evan, so our daughter will stop crying.”

“Well you're not doing a very good job.”

The crying, somehow, became even louder then. Juniper's tiny hands balled into fists on Buck's shirt. Her snot and tears soaking through the material.

Buck groaned. He could feel the tears stinging his own eyes. He was so overwhelmed. So exhausted. He just needed the crying to stop for a minute. Needed to know she was breathing properly and comfortable and safe.

Tommy closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He moved closer to Buck, placing a hand on his lower back. “Let me hold her,” he said, his voice calmer now, less defensive.

Buck stilled, then let himself melt into the touch. His head dropped down over Juniper's, holding onto her tightly. “I don't- don't know what to do,” he admitted, his lip trembling.

“I know. I don't either.” Tommy rubbed Buck's back soothingly. Let him cry, let Juniper cry, let himself feel the exhaustion of the day. And maybe this is what Buck meant when he asked Tommy to stop finding solutions- just help.

A knock on the door brought them out of their not-so-silent pity party. Juniper unlatched herself from Buck, so he handed her over to Tommy. “I'll get it,” he said, wiping the tears from his face.

He opened the door to Eddie, who's smile dropped almost immediately.

“You look terrible,” he said with a grimace.

“Hello to you too.”

“No, seriously, you look terrible.”

Buck couldn't even find it in him to be offended. He knew he looked terrible. Knew there was spit up and tears and snot all over his clothes. Knew he needed a shower and a shave. Knew he and Juniper had both taken turns pulling at his hair. Knew his face was red and a stray tear or two was probably still falling down his face.

“Why're you here, Eddie?”

Eddie stepped inside, moving around Buck to get in. “Can't a guy come visit his niece?” he asked.

“Not sure you want to today,” Tommy said as Eddie walked into the living room. He was bouncing her slightly, one hand on her head, the other under her butt as she wiggled and screamed.

“Phew. She's got a set of lungs on her.” Eddie moved in closer, taking Juniper's hand in his, “Don't ya, girl? Yeah, you're a strong girl.” He looked back up at Tommy. “Teething?”

He nodded.

“Mm.” Without another word, Eddie headed into the kitchen. He went to the sink and scrubbed his hands with soap before going back over to Tommy.

“Let me see her,” he said, holding out his hands.

“Eddie, she's just gonna scream-”

“Let me see her,” he repeated.

Tommy sighed, stared at him for a moment, then lifted Juniper off his chest. He gave her a kiss on her tear stained cheek before handing her over.

“Hey, Junie,” Eddie spoke softly, a smile on his face as he held the little girl in his arms, “it's Uncle Eddie.”

She stopped crying briefly, long enough to get a look at him, before it began again. Not as harsh this time, but still a cry.

Buck moved in take her, but Eddie put his pointer finger to her mouth. She latched onto it quickly, biting down to get pressure on her gums.

The crying stopped.

Both Buck and Tommy froze. Tommy counted to twenty in his head. That was as far as he had gotten since she'd woken up that morning.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. He brought his hands to his head, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe it. “Oh my God.”

“That's all we had to do?” Tommy asked. “Shove a finger in her mouth?”

Eddie shrugged. “Shannon used to tell me it was the only thing that worked for Christopher. She probably wouldn't have stopped crying for you guys though. Babies can tell when you're tense.”

Buck watched Juniper closely. “I'm going to ignore how utterly unsanitary this is-”

“I washed my hands!” Eddie interjected.

“and enjoy the silence.”

“You're never allowed to leave,” Tommy decided. “You have to quit your job or chop of your finger or something.”

Eddie let out a laugh, but stopped when he realized just how serious both Buck and Tommy looked. “Okay, you both have officially lost it.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “You two go get showers, take a nap, I don't wanna see either of you for at least three hours.”

“But-”

Eddie cut off Buck's protest. “I've watched her before, guys. I've got this. I know how to fix her formula, I've changed the diapers. We'll go for a walk, have tummy time, discuss using inside voices so we don't drive daddies to commit crimes like chopping friends fingers off.” He smiled down at Juniper, then back up at the boys. “We'll be fine. Plus, you'll be right here if I need you. Go.”

Both boys stared at him, like they weren't exactly sure what to do.

“Oh my God, go!” Eddie practically demanded this time.

“Just- Just a couple hours,” Buck decided.

“Three,” Eddie repeated. “I mean it.”

Buck was too tired to argue.

Tommy could already see himself sinking into the bed.

They both gave Juniper a little kiss to the top of her head before heading to the bedroom.

That's when Tommy remembered why Eddie actually came over. He turned around in the doorway, his eyes wide. “We were supposed to watch the match.”

Eddie shook his head, stopping Tommy from coming back out to the living room. “I've got my buddy for that already,” he said, peering down at Juniper, who was already starting to fall asleep in Eddie's arms. “You're never too young to learn about a proper uppercut.”

“Oh, she's already got that down,” Tommy replied, a tired smile on his face. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime. Go to bed.”

Eddie went to the couch as Tommy shut the bedroom door. He turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. Juniper's eyes began to close, snuggling close to Eddie. “I know we made a deal when you were born where you drive your daddies crazy and I get to watch,” he whispered to her, “but I thought you'd at least wait until you were two.”

It only took fifteen minutes for Juniper's little snores to match up with the loud ones coming from Tommy and Buck's room.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Saw that you said you like Wes/Tim. Can you write something about it?

Wes isn't sure what he was expecting when it came to being kidnapped by a man who willingly answers to Joker. It was one thing to have your whole city dragged into the realm of the dead; it was another for a random man dressed like a clown to pop up from a portal and hold you at gunpoint.

Portals in Amity Park were so common that people reacted with an escape plan and a phone app to update traffic delays due to ghost attacks. We had just received the notification at Nasty Buyer when the clown burst into the restaurant with a cackle.

He waved his weapon at the people sitting, who only stared at him in confusion. The man did a little introduction, dramatically twirling in place and bowing after shouting, "Hello, people of Amity. Joker here to give all a much-needed sense of humor!"

Joker was trying to be frightening, which only caused a few people to smile amusingly.

No one was scared of a man with a gun, even when he had everyone get on the ground. They all listened, primarily out of curiosity, as he went on a small ramble of humor and one bad day leading to a lifetime regret; after all, every Amity Park civilian wore a Fenton Force Field.

Some even style the belts and bracelets with their outfits.

It barely held back ghost possession on a good day, but small, fast-moving metal? Bullets bounced right off of them.

(Sometimes Wes was grateful the government didn't take Fenton seriously. He shutters to think how they would use their technology in warfare)

That amusement then turned to caution when Joker revealed he wasn't wearing makeup but was actually that skin tone. He was missing the glow, but suddenly they wondered if the man was a ghost, which made him far more dangerous.

The Joker had walked around his hostages, waving a little box computer over their heads. It beeped slightly higher on some but the one that really set off the machine was Danny.

Because, of course, Phantom would mark high on any readings, even if they didn't know what the Joker was checking for. The clown had laughed madly, dragging Danny to his feet and trying to march him out of the restaurant. Everyone watched with even more curiosity, no one bothering to stop the outsider from taking Danny.

Now, Wes isn't much of a hero; he's the type of guy who will run at the first sign of trouble, but he's also very well aware Danny can't go ghost unless he's alone. Being held hostage and kidnapped meant Danny wouldn't have the chance to slip away to become Phantom.

This is a big problem since Phantom is the town hero. The last time the town hero was out of town, the city got abducted into the death realm, and that really cool arcade was turned to pieces. Phantom only handled ghost-related crimes, but Amity rarely saw any crime, and things like these events span generations.

Wes still heard about Old Man Jankins's car being stolen in the '60s by gossiping women at the food market as if it had happened that morning.

The clown's appearance through the portal meant the local police force wouldn't even attempt to save Danny. They would simply wait for Phantom, thinking the clown was some kind of ghost.

Phantom was not coming because his human side was already there as the victim.

As much as he wished people would make the connection between the two- how can you be so blind? All Danny did was dye his hair and put on colored contacts!- he knew no one else realized that Phantom was literally being taken away. So he had to step in.

He rose from the floor, sprinting as hard as possible at the Clown. Throwing his total weight in a tackle, Wes managed to wrap his arms around the Joker, throwing them through the portal and giving Danny a chance to back away.

He figured Danny would pretend to run away- maybe round the restaurant building to the back where the cameras didn't work and fly back in a second as Phantom. He thought falling through the portal wouldn't be an issue since Phantom would fly after them and rescue him.

Wes was not expecting the damn portal to close before they hit the ground on the other side.

He caught a flash of Danny's panic-green eyes just as it was sealing. The ghost had literally just shown up to the scene to watch him vanish from sight.

"You really messed up, my fun kid," the Joker sneered, dragging Wes to his feet. The strange machine he was waving went off as it got closer to him, causing the clown to stop.

He checked the screen, smile stretching wide at what he saw. "Looks like I did end up with a meta after all."

"Meta? What's a meta?" He asks, not even blinking at the sudden increase of guns being aimed at him. There were more people here wearing similar outfits to the Joker, all that armed to the teeth.

The Joker didn't answer him. Instead, he had his goons drag him into a tube, where they started filling up with some kind of tar. Now, here Wes did panic a little. The Fenton Shield could keep him from being shot or beaten, but it would not help him breathe.

He slammed his hands against the glass, screaming as the tar went up to his chest. Across from him, Joker was smiling like a loon while the scattered people working on some machines and computers monitored his reactions with the detached expression of a scientist conducting an experiment.

That's what I am to them. Wes realizes as the tar reaches his chin. He stands on his toes, tilting his head to get air. An experiment. Why are they doing this? Do they work for the GIW? Why take me? I am nowhere near a ghost.

The horrific sensation of drowning is starting to set in as he tries to gather as much air as he can. There is pressure all around him, but the worst is in his chest. Wes's struggles to get out of the tube increase with far more depression, but the black liquid is now in his eyes, and he fears he won't be able to hold his breath for long.

Nothing is wet darkness for a moment, as the burning in his lungs aches. He feels the tar cover his head, meaning he is running out of time. The sound is mutated, and his movements are sluggish. There is this offering moment where he can't tell which way is up or down, and he thrashes about, trying desperately to find an escape, any escape from the sparkling pain that is spreading from his toes to his forehead.

It feels like his entire being was being pulled apart and put back together again.

Just as he thinks he's going to die here- if he becomes a ghost, he will definitely haunt Danny- that the glass shatters. The tar falls outwards once its containment is broken, dragging a weakened Wes with the flow onto the ground.

He gasps in the air hungrily, only realizing what a dumb idea that was as his lungs protest and seize up. His chest rattles with coughs so extreme that Wes can only curl up into a ball, blinking tears away, trying to breathe.

He feels someone push him onto his side, which helps his throat a little, but the coughing doesn't stop. In fact, it becomes worse once he realizes his whole body is rapidly falling out of control because everything is too much all at once.

Around him, shouting and bangs indicate some chaos has exploded alongside the glass, but Wes can barely see through the pain.

He squits up at a teenager wearing a strange outfit and a little mask over his eyes. The guy is saying something but he can't understand him over all his senses being cracked to overdrive.

Wes has never known the world to be so bright, loud, and big. Everything is causing white hot pain to rest behind his eyes. Noises that he had never heard before are assaulting his ears—a car is jamming somewhere, a baby is crying, someone is singing, machines are humming, someone is grinning coffee beans—and he presses his head to the ground, trying to get it all to stop.

The man says something else urgently, but it's drowned out by the office sound of a bug buzzing too loudly to his left. Wes is not prepared for the teen in red and black to pick him up and fling him over his shoulder.

Wow. He's strong.

He quickly carried Wes out of the building. The basketball player could do nothing but let it happen as he bounced slightly over his bony shoulder.

He just makes out the image of a huge bat fling itself at the screaming Joker before everything goes black. Wes is happily surrounded by the blissful silence of the darkness.

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

When he arrives, he finds himself in a hospital room. Machines are hooked up to his arms, and he's been changed into a gown. Wes is pleased that the world is not so bright or loud anymore as he blinks around the room in a haze.

Did Danny save him? If so, where were his parents? Why did he wake up alone?

Danny would have stayed with him, at the least. The boy always did whenever Phantom rescued anyone, and people whispered about Danny being far too soft-hearted to be the Ghost Hunters' child.

It takes him a moment to sit up.

His body is aching everywhere as if he had done HIT training with Dash during hell week. It takes a few moments to get his muscles to move without the stinging sensation of a bruise, but after struggling, he can fling his legs over the edge.

Trying to stand is terrible, as his legs give out the second he puts weight on them.

He tries to catch himself on the bedside table, but he misses. His hand instead lands on a little tray, sending everything airborne and crashing along with him.

At once, pain flairs up like his body had been tasered - Dash ones brought a tazer to school, and everyone on the team took turns to feel what it was like. It was stupid but they all boasted they could handle the pain. They couldn't.

The door to his room is flung open as Wes cries out, body spamming in agony.

Hands grip his shoulder- sending more waves of torment through his muscles- as they drag him up. The person, helps him back into the bed, the cool sheets a blessing on his burning skin. "We need a nurse!"

"What happened?" He gasps, trying to get his blurry vision to clear. He can't tell who the blob of unrecognizable blur is, and he certainly didn't realize that voice. Wes isn't even sure they are human. "Where am I?"

"It's okay. You're safe. Batman and Red Robin rescued you. You're in the Drake Hostpial's meta ward."

Meta. There was that word again.

"Who..." His voice catches his breath as Wes struggles to get his vocal cords to function. The ache makes it hard to focus on anything. "Who are you?"

"I'm Tim Drake," Tim whispers to him, likely knowing lowering his voice was easier on Wes' ears. Who knew ears could get sore? "Everything will be alright now."

Wes' eyesight is clear enough to finally focus on Tim's face. He breathes a sigh of relief. He's missing his mask and not dressed like a bizarre spandex performer, but he recognizes the teenager who had carried him out of Joker's strange lab.

Danny didn't save him, but he was safe all the same. This is the last time he played hero.

He offers Tim a grateful smile. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"What?"

Wes goes under the darkness again as the door is burst open by a team of medical staff. He misses Tim's expression of shock, having not expected Wes to clock him as the one that carried him out.

How did this meta-trafficking victim recognize him?

[obsessedwithceleste]

Reflections

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Interlocked pt 1

Based on this request.

Summary: reflection (n) a serious thought or consideration.

word count: 2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You feel your hands beginning to tremble as you stare up at the large statue of a golden griffin that supposedly lead to the headmaster's office. An owl had dropped a letter on your bed just hours ago summoning you to him, and since then, you had been racking your brain trying to think of a reason for his request.

It was the last day of term before you were to return home for the summer. Most of your friends were in the dorms packing at that very moment, but not you. No, you were standing here, wondering why on Earth you were being called to the headmaster's office.

Your grades were fine, you hadn't gotten into any spats with a professor, or another student for that matter, you hadn't lost your house any points. You couldn't think of a single reason Dumbledore would want to see you. No. That wasn't true you realize. You were one of the names on the list of Dumbledore's Army.

But then why were none of your other classmates being summoned?

Before you could worry yourself any further, you look up at the statue in front of you.

“Lemon drop” you say timidly, not entirely sure that the password would work.

To your surprise however, the griffin lets out a loud grinding sound as it turns slowly, revealing a hidden staircase behind. Taking a deep breath and stealing yourself, you forge ahead, carefully making your way up the winding staircase.

You find yourself standing in a large study, bookshelves lining the walls, and previous headmasters roaming about the grande picture frames hanging above. Peering about, the room appears to be empty as you make your way up to the large desk that is centered in the room.

You didn’t mean to snoop. Well, maybe a little. A handful of seemingly random objects lay strewn atop the dark mahogany, a glimmer of silver catching your eye. Picking up the small object carefully, you find it to be a thick, silver ring embedded with dark emeralds. An ornate letter S carved into the heavy metal.

“I see you’ve taken a fancy to the Slytherin ring,” the raspy voice of Professor Dumbledore states as the man seems to materialize next to you.

Startled, you jolt back from the desk, the ring clattering against the wood as it falls from your hand.

“Professor! I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant to snoop,” you rush, holding your hands tightly behind your back.

With a light chuckle, Dumbledore picks up the silver ring, a contemplative look on his face.

“Strange things heirlooms. This particular ring belonged to a Salazar Slytherin, you may have heard of him,” he says, a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

Your jaw drops open in shock. The Salazar Slytherin?

“In fact, all of these heirlooms once belonged to the houses of one of the founders.” He continues, picking up a heavy looking silver necklace dripping with sapphires and diamonds to inspect. “Curious that you choose that ring.”

“It just caught my eye,” you mumble. “What are you doing with all these anyway, Professor?”

The old man pauses, considering the jewels clasped tightly in his hand.

“I’ve been searching for something. Or somethings, rather. Which leads me to the reason you were brought here today. It is my understanding that you were one of the students involved with Harry Potter’s, tutoring sessions, shall we say?”

You hold your breath. Here it comes. You must be in some sort of trouble you think as you give a slight nod.

“You must know then, that Voldemort has returned.” Dumbledore states, a seriousness taking over his face.

Again, you nod your head slightly. You had heard what had happened at the department of mysteries obviously.

“And I assume you also know he has a son at this very school?”

Of course. Mattheo Riddle. A Slytherin, obviously, in your class. Mischievous and rowdy, with a reputation for breaking the hearts of girls throughout the school. How could you not know of him?

“Yes professor.”

Dumbledore once again takes a moment to observe you and you shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

“You must know, y/n that what I am about to ask next is not to be taken lightly.”

You blink back at the old man, not at all sure where this was going.

“During times like these, it is essential that we gather as much information as possible in order to overcome our enemies,” he explains, eyes never once leaving yours.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re asking sir. You want me to become a spy?”

Dumbledore pauses, head tilting as if trying to put his next words together as carefully as possible.

“It would be, quite beneficial, to have someone form a sort of- attachment to the young Mr. Riddle. Someone for example, who isn’t as connected to Mr. Potter, but still dedicated to his cause.”

“Someone like me.” You finish, taking in his words. “You want me to date Mattheo Riddle to gain information for you.”

You can see the glimmer in Dumbledore’s eyes once more as he ever so slightly gives a nod of his head.

“Of course a decision doesn’t need to be made immediately. You’ll have the summer to think things over, though y/n I must ask that this conversation remains private.”

His words churn in your head as you take a moment to truly understand what was being asked of you. If Voldemort had truly returned, this would send you right into the heart of the snake pit. A dangerous position indeed.

“Of course professor,” you mumble, as the old man leads you back in the direction of the staircase.

As you make your way back to your dormitory, you can’t shake the proposal from your mind. It was a monstrous ask for a teenager to become a spy so early in what you were sure was inevitably going to be war. But you were also sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t request this of you unless he was certain that it would be relatively safe. Especially considering you’d be within the confines of the school.

You let out an anxious sigh. You certainly had a lot to think about in the coming months.

Mattheo shivered feeling the cold draft that seemed to be a permanent resident of Malfoy Manor.

After his father’s self-proclaimed abominable travesty at the department of mystery, he had been moved into the manor with the rest of his father’s mindless followers. The only solace he had was the fact that both Draco Malfoy and Lorenzo Berkshire had been brought to reside in the manor as well, the three banding together to make it through the summer.

He sat with Enzo now in the library, the fireplace giving off just enough light for them to make out the small black print on the pages. This is really all life had been recently. Sitting in the library waiting for one of the adults to come calling for one of them before coming back to disassociate.

“He’s calling for you. Father told me to fetch you,” Draco says, from the library doorway, as if vocalizing Matthew’s thoughts. His pale face looked especially hollow, as if he’d seen a ghost- or more likely the Cruciatus curse.

Mattheo let’s put a deep sigh, dropping his book onto the table beside him as Enzo looks at the two with pity.

He despised the fact that his father had returned. Utterly loathed it in fact. Slytherin students at Hogwarts were already pariahs in the halls. But add on the last name Riddle? He was set up for failure, he thought bitterly to himself. And now with the whole Dark Lord nonsense. Mattheo sighed in annoyance.

He knew he should fear that thing that was his father, but honestly, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d spent his entire life ostracized, assumed the worst of, beaten down, what more could the Dark Lord really take from him? He’d already made his life a living hell by simply giving him a name. He just didn’t care.

Mattheo lazily made his way to the Master’s wing of the mansion which his father had quickly taken over, displacing the Malfoys to a small guest room on the opposite side of the house. After placing the blame for his most recent failure on Lucious Malfoy, his father was reveling in humiliating the man in any way possible. He knew it was hitting Draco hard too, but they were too proud to say anything.

Finally reaching the large, perhaps intimidating double doors of the study his father was currently presiding in, Mattheo didn’t even need to knock as the doors flew open, eyes turning towards him.

The usual goons were there. Bellatrix of course, Lucius and Narcissa, Pettigrew, Severus. Even Theodore's father Nott Sr. They all watched in silence as he stepped a few feet into the room.

“Mattheo,” the eerie voice of his father hisses with glee as the boy enters.

“Father.” He replies dryly.

“Just the one I was looking for.”

“Well you did summon me.”

The Dark Lord glared at the petulant boy in front of him.

“Mattheo, dear boy, come closer.”

Mattheo frowns at his father’s request, grimacing at the thought of being anywhere near the ghastly creature. Nevertheless, he walks confidently further into the room, coming to stop directly in front of his father.

It didn’t take long for Mattheo to feel his father begin to try and pry into his mind, scavenging for something, though Mattheo wasn’t sure what. He steeled himself, having become rather familiar with occlumency since his father’s return. It really wasn’t difficult to off-track the Dark Lord, he had tended to see what he wanted to see, but not many of his followers had seemed to pick up on that particular trait.

After a few minutes of this, the Dark Lord seemed to grow frustrated.

“Mattheo, I have a special task for you,” he announces finally, a large grin overtaking his face. “You should feel honored that such a role is being entrusted with you. Do you feel honored boy?”

“Of course.” Mattheo grits out.

In actuality however, he was growing nervous. He knew that Lorenzo had already been tasked with fixing a broken vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts. And Draco- well. Draco had been assigned a task as well. Both seemed impossible. It was only a matter of time before he was assigned a task himself.

The Dark Lord smiled menacingly at his son.

“We want a spy. Someone in Dumbledore’s little army to feed us information about his sacred chosen one.” He announces. Bellatrix lets out a cackle from beside him.

“Father, I’m not quite sure you’ve thought this through. I’m not exactly in the good graces of most of Hogwart’s population,” Mattheo responds, slightly annoyed.

His father’s face immediately turns to one of rage.

“Silence you impertinent child!” He bellows.

“You dare question your master?” Bellatrix screeches. “Let me punish him master. Let me practice on him like I did little Draco,” she begs.

Mattheo frowns at the woman in disgust.

“Silence Bellatrix. All in good time. But Mattheo you will not be the spy, no. I am no mere amateur to the games that Dumbledore will play. No, dear boy, your task is to lure in someone from Dumbledore’s order. Form an- attachment. Seduce them, do what you must and they will spill their secrets. Affection makes one weak Mattheo. Love might have prevented me from getting rid of their savior once. But it will not again. Love makes you weak, and they will learn.”

Mattheo looks at his father with disdain. A ridiculous task, he thought. And definitely something far better suited for Lorenzo who would have absolutely no trouble chatting up some witch. But that’s just the thing wasn’t it. The Dark Lord wanted to see them squirm. Struggle.

“Is that all father?” He asks, growing bored.

The Dark Lord considers the boy in front of him before waving his hand.

“Bring me the Berkshire boy. Bellatrix needs a new play thing.”

God I'm slow😫 idk why this was so hard to write but here we are🫠

tag list: @elsafromcabinsix

[pshcomforts]

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ | psh.

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you push your friend, sunghoon, on a decision that doesn’t involve you, afraid to hurt him with your need to leave before the other does.

: ̗̀➛ warnings/content: written in third pov. angst. no fluff. arguing. reader has issues and can’t commit (lol). not proofread.

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.5k

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

“hoon…,” y/n quietly mumbled in shock.

“may i come in?” sunghoon’s cold voice spoke, standing tall near the door frame with softened eyes.

“uh.. yeah, sure.” she gestured her hand, allowing him in.

the boy entered in, chest heaving up and down with nervous butterflies.

“so.. why’d you come here?” the girl asked, feeling her heavy heart weigh down.

he didn’t say anything for the first few seconds, letting silence fill the room. “hoon?” she called as she watched him become hesitant.

“are we okay, y/n?”

“w..what?” she stuttered, taken aback by his questioning. “yeah, hoon. we are.”

“if we are, then why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

y/n instantly paused when she felt her heart drop at the words. was she hearing that right?

“what?? how do you know? i mean-“

“jake blurted it out after you left. why didn’t you tell me, y/n?”

sunghoon’s tone became firm with a demand for an answer, and it made her slightly nervous.

“did i really need to? you were obviously gonna get with her.” she tried to joke with a half smile, careful to not forget how jake let such a thing slip by his lips.

the male huffed out a cold and annoyed sigh, hinting that the attempt to lighten the mood was something unnecessary.

“you don’t know that, y/n.” he stiffly said.

his withdrawal of emotions voiced his seriousness, causing the girl to mirror his mannerism.

“yes i do hoon, you and her are meant to be,”—her tone becoming more solemn within each second.

“what about us?” he almost whispered. his eyes stared into hers as her heart burned with pain.

she let out a soft scoff after feeling the tightness in her chest twist. “us?” she fought back a cry in her eyes—“there’s no us if you like someone else.”

sunghoon didn’t respond, at least not right away. he had to pause for a second. “i like you,” he choked out. “i’ve always liked you.”

y/n pressed her lips into a line, shaking her head as she chuckled. “yeah, and i know you like her too.” she shook her head again, this time in hopes of brushing the heart ache away. she looked at the older male again, noticing his cold demeanor slowly melt away.

“i’ve been in love with you longer.” hoon breathed heavily after exhaling the truth out. “you’re the one i always come back to even if i try to get over you.”

tears bled down her cheeks now, staining them with an aching memory she wouldn’t forget.

she inhaled a breath of air, feeling her breath hitch as she turned away from him. “no sunghoon, don’t do this. i don’t want you to end up with me.” her heart shattered at her own words, feeling his heart break too with his next sentence.

“why?” he murmured.

the boy attempted to step closer to her—“because..,”

but with everything happening in the moment, she had to stop him with a hand raise. “.. i don’t want to wait to be someone’s second choice, and if you really wanted me then you wouldn’t even be considering someone else right now.”

sunghoon blinked. his mouth gaped open to say something but he closed it, and dropped his head down.

“y/n…, i love you.”

her face scrunched at the confession. she bit her lips as she let more tears drop. “then why is it so hard for you to decide, sunghoon?” her lips tried to curl into a smile but it only turned into a sad attempt to look okay.

his brows furrowed at the sight. “i just..” he stopped for a second to watch her distantly smile again in pain—“.. don’t want to lose you if we were to break up.”

she fought back the urge to cry and breakdown in front of him as it weighed on her heart. “we won’t because we’re not getting together. you belong with her,” she affirmed with a fake grin.

irritation slowly filled the male with the constant denials from her, and those last words had gotten to him.

he locked eyes with her, narrowing them almost as he harshly said, “and who are you to make that decision for me?”

his infuriating change was inevitable to y/n.

the way he went back to being cold and bitter caused the girl to be annoyed with the question asked. “sunghoon please.., she’s the obvious choice. i’m pushing you towards her.” she closed her eyes to avoid them being seen rolled.

a scoff slipped by his lips. “i don’t want her, i want you. why can’t you see that?” he seemed to be speaking the truth but his anger darted towards something else in her eyes.

“no, you don’t, sunghoon.” she emphasized each word with a grit in her teeth.

hoon scoffed again. his corner lips were slightly curled as he shook his head, almost in disappointment. “why do you do this, y/n?” she opened her mouth to question but he cut her off—“why do you keep pushing me away?”

“i’m not pushing you away…,”

the girls brows furrowed as she watched his tense body soften.

he took in a particularly harsh gulp—“you are and it hurts,” he said with a heavy breath. his eyes lingered on hers, like he was searching for the answer she couldn’t say aloud.

y/n broke away the eye contact once she felt her heart become burden in a rush of adrenaline. her lips trembled when his hands touched her cheek, cold and yet comforting.

“i’m sorry hoon…,” she swallowed her guilt. “but everybody leaves in the end, and it’s only a matter of time that you’ll leave me too.”

their faces were so close in the moment. the desire to just kiss the stress away was strong for the both of them. she felt his hot breath hit her face as he closely watched her in admiration.

“i’d never leave you.” the male breathed, almost whispering it in her ears.

that four-lettered sentence was like a reality check for her. even if it sent shivers down her spine, it was still something that made her realize why she was pushing him away.

she backed away from his longing touch of skinship. “i’ve heard enough of that to know.”

she took a pause in her voice when she saw the look of betrayal in his eyes. he was hurt that she pulled away before their lips could meet.

“and i’m not willing to hurt you if i push you away during the relationship.”

“so you’re gonna push me away now?” his tone was familiar with a cold and mean energy while his eyes spoke otherwise, glossed with tears.

she felt her lips tremble again. “yeah.. it’ll hurt less for us both.” her voice cracked but she didn’t even notice it with all of her attention on the saddened boy.

“you’re not even gonna give us a chance?” sunghoon asked with a slight eyebrow raise. he stepped closer to her and she allowed it—both just wanting to be in a reassuring hold that wasn’t real.

y/n softly shook her head as tears continued running down her cheeks. “no.. i don’t want to hurt you more than i already have, and i don’t want to ruin what we have as friends either.”

his tears had fallen down now with her words ringing in his ears. “it was already ruined when i fell in love with you.” he swallowed down cries in his throat as he felt his heart pounding loudly.

the girl bit her lips, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away to avoid letting him see her cry from his words. her chest tightened when she confirmed what’d be the end of them.

“then fall out of it because this isn’t happening.”

her words were cruel and mean, and she knew it wasn’t her but she had to push him away. hurting him here was better than hurting him when they were somewhere further than this.

sunghoon was undoubtedly wounded with the echoing words that remained in his ears, but he attempted to not show it.

“fine, but just know that i would’ve stayed, y/n. i would’ve never thought twice to leave someone special like you.”

“i’m sorry, sunghoon… i know who i am in a relationship, and i don’t want to push you away if we get together.”

he sighed, breath hitching with a soft head shake. “i was willing to fight through that for you, for us.”

y/n’s lips gently curled as she smiled through her tears, attempting reassurance in her expression. “she’ll make you happy, hoon, not me.” she mumbled, voice cracking with her clawing heart that stopped calling for him.

his brows slightly furrowed at her words and his lips trembled at their ending. he wanted her, but she couldn’t see that through her fear of trust.

“goodbye, y/n.”

sunghoon left before she could say her goodbye, walking out of what’d determine the end for them.

she crouched down to herself, tears flowing and heart aching at how things were left. her hand held onto her chest, clenching onto the tightened pain that spread through her body.

pushing him toward the other girl was what’d make them both happy in the end. she’d patch up what y/n broke.

“goodbye, sunghoon.”

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[librarygarten]

#2 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 2 includes Legend, Four, and Wild Slight trigger warning for Wild's part? He grabs your wrist harshly Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Legend

Oh this is seriously pissing Legend off. He’s glaring daggers at your Switch like it just insulted his entire bloodline. His adventures? Games? Children’s games? It’s disturbing. It’s degrading. His uncle died! Zelda was imprisoned! He had to fight Ganon in the freaking Dark Realm! And that was only his first adventure! You apparently had ALL of his adventures as games on that device. His life wasn’t some cool toy! (He is slightly smug about having the most games of the chain though.)

He knows you’re not the one who made the games. He understands that you had no reason to view his adventures as anything other than some story a person in your world made. But the fact that until recently, you viewed him as a fictional character? That before you met him, you had seen him as a toy? That hurts. 

Legend starts avoiding you. When the group walks somewhere, he’ll change his pace to make sure he’s not next to you. When the group settles down for the night, he keeps himself busy rearranging his items. He tries not to make it too obvious, always having a reason ready if someone asks what he’s up to. Eventually, though, the others catch on to his behavior.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“You know, you can’t avoid them forever.”

Legend looked up from his bag, which he had been reorganizing for the last half hour. Warrior was standing next to him, arms crossed in the “I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed” dad stance. (How he had snuck up on Legend without him hearing was a mystery).

“I’m not avoiding them.”

“Yes you are.”

Legend sighs. He’s not getting out of this conversation, is he?

“It’s just…How are you not bothered? They have all our adventures on a little device. They went on our adventures from the safety of their couch! Do they even see us as people? Are we just a game to them?” Legend snaps his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to start rambling. Warrior raises an eyebrow, considering the younger hero.

“Go ask to see one of your games. Watch them play for a bit.” Warrior puts up a hand to silence Legend when he begins to protest. “I can’t have you treat a teammate like this. Go.”

Later, Legend begrudgingly found himself sitting next to you. The group had come across a town, so most of the chain was off exploring and gathering supplies. Warrior had practically dragged Legend over to where you were sitting, but you were just happy Legend was finally okay being near you.

“So,” you smile, turning on your Switch “I know Wars is kind of forcing you to do this, but which game do you want to see? There’s A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds, Link’s Awakening…”

“Are all my games puns?” he scrunches up his face, cringing at whoever decided on these names. He could guess which pun correlated to each of his adventures, except for one. “What’s Link’s Awakening?”

“Oh! That one’s probably my favorite. It was actually so popular they re-made it a few years ago.” You open the game, and begin moving the game Link around the world.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Legend asks, “Why is my head so freakishly big?”

“It’s not that bad! It’s just the art style! Everyone looks like that. See?” You tap the screen, pointing to another character. Legend recognizes her immediately. Of course. Of course you had Koholint in your device.

“So, how much of my adventure do you see in this game?” Legend asks hesitantly, a blush creeping onto his face.

“From talking to the others, all of the enemies and places are the same,” you explain while moving game Link up a staircase. “But the things you guys say to other people aren't. Links don't talk in games, like, ever.” He nods, and watches as you enter the Wind Fish’s egg. When you finish the final boss fight, you hesitate to walk up the stairs.

“Sorry, I always get a bit emotional at this part.” You give him a half smile, “If I go up the staircase, the Wind Fish will talk, and then the game ends.”

“Isn't that the point?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never liked this game’s ending. It’s… frustrating. And sad.” You throw your hand up, clearly frustrated. “Like, I get that the stupid fish needs to wake up, but what about everyone else? I hate that I can’t get a happy ending for everyone.”

“Why do you care? Isn’t it just a game?” Legend crosses his arms, but his expression softens.

“It is- er… was.” You blush. “I don’t know. Even before I met you guys. Back when I thought none of this was real. I still wanted a happy ending.”

He lets his bangs fall in his face. You can’t see his expression when he talks again.

“I wanted one too.”

Four

(I know Four Swords is on the Switch now, but before that it was so ATROCIOUSLY difficult to play that I had to include The Struggle)

Games? About him? That's… concerning to say the least. It's not that he minds. He's honestly a bit flattered! But also. That means you know about the colors. Which he hasn't really told anyone in the group about.

He's preparing himself for an awkward conversation, but it never comes. Whenever another member of the chain asks about his games, you either only talk about his adventures with the Picori, or go on a half hour long rant about how hard it is to play the games.

Then during one of these rants you mention that Four Swords is your favorite game, and he nearly chokes on his own spit. He had thought you hated it from how much you complain about getting it set up. Something about emulators and linking cables? He doesn’t understand most of what you say, but knowing that he’s your favorite (well, his games are) makes him break out into a huge grin.

He watches you play occasionally, mostly out of curiosity. He usually has other things to be doing, like fixing Wild’s sword. Again. But on the rare occasion he has free time and is feeling especially bored, he’ll watch you.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Four finds you and Wind buried in a mass of wires. Your Switch, another box, and several smaller devices are scattered around the ground. You curse under your breath as you attempt to untangle the cords and plug them into the box.

“That’s it. I’m out.” Wind gets up and lets the wires that were in his lap fall unceremoniously to the ground . “Four’s adventure can’t be worth this much trouble to see.”

Wind walks away, and Four takes his place next to you.

“So… what is all this?” he asks, picking up a mass of wires and attempting to undo some of the knots.

“This, my friend, is all the equipment needed to play your game.” You say exasperatedly, trying yet again to plug the still-tangled wires into one of the devices.

“Are all your video games this complicated?” Four grimaces at the mess in front of you. He’s inclined to agree with Wind on this one. His adventure can’t be worth this much effort to play through.

“No, just yours.” You scowl and jam the end of one of the cables into one of the devices, hoping it will stay put this time. You have no such luck. “Four Swords is only a multiplayer game, and each person playing needs to own a copy of the game, plus have a way to connect to the other players. Hence… this mess.” You motion tiredly at the pile in front of you.

“Multiplayer?” he tilts his head questioningly.

“It means you can’t play it alone,” you stick out your tongue as you concentrate on finally putting the cords in their proper places. “You need to have multiple players.”

He nods. It makes sense, he guesses, considering how much focus he had to put on teamwork during his adventure with the Four Sword. He watches you try to boot up the game, then curse again as you fiddle with the wires again. Finally, you get it working.

“Sweet!” You clap your hands together, and Four smiles at how happy you seem to finally be able to play his game. To his surprise, you hand him one of the controllers. “Want to play with me?”

“Uhh… What about Wind?” He’s not sure he wants to actually play his adventure. Doing it once was enough, thank you very much.

“He ditched me during setup. Now he doesn’t get to play,” you say. “That’s been the rule at my house since we started playing this game.”

“Seems fair.” Four reluctantly takes the controller. He doesn’t want to seem rude and say no. Then who would you play with? “So, how do I do this?”

“It’s basically just a contest to see who can collect the most gems in the level. Not much story. Fastest wins.” you explain.

“Wait, really?” He's a bit surprised. He was expecting his game to be a bit more complicated. He suddenly doesn’t mind playing so much. “That sounds… really simple.”

“Yeah, it’s an older game, so it doesn’t seem like a lot of your adventure actually transfers over to the game.” You pick up a controller and smile mischievously. “Ready to lose, Smithy?”

“As if!” He grins, matching your enthusiasm. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

Wild

Wild isn't sure what the feeling that's settled in his chest is. He's not thrilled at the idea of you playing games about his adventure. He’s been through a lot, and the idea that it was all just a fun game to someone? It hurts. It’s upsetting. He’s honestly a bit annoyed at you for a while. You also seem to know something he doesn’t? What’s that about? Why won’t you tell him?

He decides that if you won’t answer his questions, he’ll trick you into showing him. He watches you play Breath of the Wild while he cooks, or while the group is walking, or really any chance there’s downtime. He quickly realizes that most of what you do is just run around killing monsters and finding Koroks. Nothing very noteworthy or interesting. Certainly, nothing worth hiding from him.

Then, you let it slip that his games are your favorite, and oooh boy is he smug. For about a day. After the initial ego boost, he realizes you said games. Plural. He’s only seen you play the one, though? What’s that about? He’s not getting answers, and it’s starting to eat at him. Eventually, he just steals your Switch and tries to find out for himself.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Wild throws the Switch at the ground next to where you’re sitting. You look up and see that he is absolutely fuming. Anything you could have said dies in your throat. Without another word, he storms off.

“What was that about?” Twilight asks, watching Wild walk away. You shrug, completely bewildered, and pick your Switch up off the ground. There’s dirt in the headphone jack, and a corner of the screen is cracked. You turn it on, testing how much damage has been done, and all the color drains from your face.

“Oh.” Is all you can think to say. Tears of the Kingdom is running. It looks like Wild started a new save file on your account. He’s still in the underground area at the beginning of the game, so he must have just finished watching the opening cutscene.

Before Twilight can ask any more questions, you drop your Switch on the ground again, probably cracking the screen even more, and take off sprinting in the direction Wild went.

“Wild? WILD!” You yell into the forest as you run, trying your best to follow which direction you think he might have gone. “WILD!!? LINK?!”

You stumble into a small clearing, and stop dead in your tracks. Wild is furiously swinging his sword at a tree, each strike is less precise than the last. After what feels like hours, but in truth was only a few minutes, he drops the weapon and falls to his knees. His breathing is ragged as his fingers claw into the dirt beneath him.

“Wild?” you whisper his name, tiptoeing to his side. Hesitantly, you kneel down next to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

“You knew.” His hair hides his face from view, but his voice has an edge you’ve never heard before. He sounds ready to murder you, but he doesn’t move from his place on the ground, only digging his fingers deeper into the ground. “You knew I was going to lose everything again. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I…” you gulp. What can you even say? What comfort can you offer? “I was planning to tell you… sometime.”

“Oh! Sometime!” Wild grabs your wrist and his face is suddenly inches from yours, eyes dark with anger. “And just when was this sometime going to be?”

“I don’t know!” You twist your wrist, attempting to escape his crushing grip, but are unsuccessful. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you! Or to stop it from happening in the first place!”

“Stop it? Just how do you expect to stop that from happening?” Wild releases your wrist and combs his hands roughly into his hair, pushing it away from his face angrily. You take a moment to rub where he had grabbed you. It aches, but there isn’t even a bruise.

“Well,” you speak softly as you stand up, taking a few steps away from him. “I figured, if we ever passed through your time, all ten of us could go wail on him before he even breaks the seal. There is the chance of him escaping and wailing on us instead, though.”

“THAT’S your plan?” He laughs as tears roll down his cheeks. “Sure! Let’s just go in, guns blazing, and all die of gloom poisoning!”

“That’s why I was waiting to tell you!” You throw up your hands. Your words sound louder than you intended them. Are you yelling now? “I have a couple design plans in the works for the Purah Pad and Sheika Slate, depending on which one is available, but none of them are finished yet!”

“Design plans?” Wild’s anger melts off his face, replaced with hesitant hope. “What are you designing?”

“Three words: Weaponized. Spinning. Top.”