#please give your answers if you read! i can't proceed if you don't

[gyubakeries]

i am in neeedddd of some fluffy scoups fics, could you please write something about cheol🥹

𝘀𝗽𝗮-𝗱𝗮𝘆 | c.sc

a/n: hi anon! sorry it took so long to get to this request 😭 writing all this made me want to have a spa-day, but i'm way too busy for one right now oof. thank you for requesting, and i hope you like it!

word count: 1.6k contents: seungcheol x afab!reader , established relationship , reader is tired , tiiiiny bit of angst BUT ITS SUPER FLUFFY , cheol is the best bf , self-care , domestic fluff , cheol is a girl's girl and we love him for it <3 , love next door is mentioned bcs im currently watching it :P

cheolz 💗 (19:59 p.m.) :

hi baby <3

when will u be reaching home 2night?

you (20:08 p.m.) :

outside front door rn

can u plz open up

read (20:08 p.m.)

—

the door swings open, and seungcheol's worried eyes take in your current condition. your work bag, slung from your shoulder, is weighing you down, making you slump forward. your eyes are red and watery. your skin looks pale, and you let out a sigh that makes seungcheol's heart ache.

"bad day?" seungcheol asks, and you nod weakly, left with no energy to even give him a verbal answer.

"c'mere love," he frowns, opening up his arms. you fall into his embrace, all the tension in your muscles melting away the second seungcheol tightly wraps you up in his arms. the feeling of being comforted feels so overwhelming that you can't help but let a few tears escape.

"i feel like shit," you mumble, your voice hoarse from crying in the car while you drove home from work. "i've failed at everything."

"i don't want to hear any of that," seungcheol shakes his head, holding you closer. "let me make you feel better, okay?"

you sigh again, pulling back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "i'm not in the mood for sex now, cheol."

"silly baby," seungcheol laughs, brushing his nose against yours. "i didn't mean sex. i thought i could help you unwind with your very own, made-at-home, spa-day!"

your eyes well with tears at how thoughtful your boyfriend is. seungcheol is quick to wipe the tears away, playfully scolding you. "no more crying. let's take the weekend to reset and start the next week afresh, hm? come on, i've got a lot planned."

your boyfriend slides your work bag off your shoulder and guides you into the apartment. he sets the bag down on the kitchen counter and comes back to kneel in front of you, helping you take off your heels. you sigh when your feet fall flat on the ground, tired from having to wear high heels the entire day.

"better?" seungcheol smiles, looking up at you, and you nod, feeling a little bit of energy seep back into you just by looking into seungcheol's eyes.

"good," your boyfriend says, getting up from the floor. "i've got to go check on the bath, so why don't you pick out some comfy clothes to wear, and then we can proceed?"

"okay, cheol," you agree, pressing a peck to his lips. his face lights up and he goes to the bathroom with a skip in his step. the exhaustion you had felt earlier was slowly getting replaced with the calming and healing presence of seungcheol.

your boyfriend really knew how to make you feel better.

—

you lay out your clothes on the bed. after a lot of thinking, you went with a hoodie (seungcheol's hoodie from college) and some baggy sweatpants. just as you were contemplating flopping onto the bed, a gentle touch on your shoulder makes you turn around.

"hey, your bubble bath is ready," seungcheol informs, and you realize that the entire spa-day idea was actually planned out well in advance.

"did you put in-"

"your favorite salted caramel-scented bath bomb? of course, baby. did you think i was a monster?" seungcheol gasps dramatically, making you laugh and hit his arm weakly.

"alright, i get it, you're obsessed with me," you roll your eyes, but you let seungcheol shrug off your blazer, unbuckle your belt and take off all your jewelry.

"yes, i am," seungcheol agrees, the genuinity in his voice knocking the air out of your lungs. you'd been dating him for seven years, ever since freshman year in college, yet sometimes his sincere love for you still surprised you.

the end of his lips tug into a smile at your silence, and he puts your jewelry away on your dressing table. "let's head into the bathroom," he instructs, and you follow him.

seungcheol stands in one corner of the bathroom, watching you as you take your clothes off and dump them in the laundry hamper. there isn't any heat behind his gaze, just the need to make sure you're taken care of.

"you gonna join?" you ask him, tugging your hair free from the bun you had put it in.

"i already showered earlier," he shakes his head. "i will be here though, to help with anything else you want."

"thank you," you smile shyly, getting into the filled bathtub slowly to make sure it doesn't overflow. the water was the perfect temperature, not too hot but not lukewarm either; just the perfect heat to make your body relax after a long day.

the scent of your favorite bath bomb envelops you, and lean back against the edge of the tub and close your eyes, letting out a content sigh.

after a few minutes of silence, seungcheol speaks up gently, now sitting cross-legged next to the tub. "did you wanna wash your hair?"

you blearily blink your eyes open, nodding. just as you're about to reach out for the shampoo bottle, seungcheol beats you to it.

"relax, let me do it for you."

you lean back again and watch seungcheol take some of the product on his palm and then kneel next to you. he lathers up the shampoo and then works it into your hair.

his touch is soft, yet firm. he massages your scalp with the shampoo, and as if taken away magically, the headache you had earlier vanishes. your eyes drop shut as seungcheol washes your hair.

you're sure you dozed off in the bath for a while, because you don't remember him rinsing the shampoo out, gently scrubbing your body clean, or drying you off with your towel.

you only wake up when he nudges you awake. "skincare time, baby."

you offer him a sleepy smile and a kiss to his cheek. you were dedicated to following your skincare routine daily, and you were glad that your boyfriend also gave it the same priority.

seungcheol gets you the clothes you put on the bed and you slip into them, the soft fabric of the hoodie engulfing you in warmth. you wrap your wet hair up in a towel and get to your skincare.

seungcheol stands beside you, a hand on your hip rubbing circles into the skin as he watches you apply various products on your face. you've explained all the various steps in your routine many times to him, but he can't keep a track of which is the toner, which is the serum and which is the cream.

once you were finally done, seungcheol walks you out of the bathroom with his hands on your shoulders.

"for dinner i got you take-out from your favorite chinese place," seungcheol says, seating you down at the dining table. "i haven't perfected my cooking skills yet."

"this is more than enough, cheol," you laugh, watching as he makes himself busy with warming up the food and bringing it to the table. "this is perfect."

"anything for my sweet girl," seungcheol winks flirtatiously, setting down a plate in front of you. "eat up, you need your energy. or else you're gonna be waking up like a hungry zombie tomorrow."

pretending to be offended at his words, you lightly kick his foot under the table. he responds by holding your free hand in his above the table as you both eat dinner in comfortable silence.

you're glad he doesn't ask you about work or what caused you to be this dejected earlier, because you frankly didn't have the energy to deal with all the emotions you felt earlier. knowing seungcheol, he'd probably whine and pout till you opened up to him later, so you put the sad thoughts away and focus on the moment.

—

you thought the night would wrap up with the meal. you felt far more happy than how you felt when you came home earlier, all thanks to seungcheol's efforts, but apparently, dinner wasn't the end.

after dinner, seungcheol loads the dishes in the washer, and then picks you up to take you to the bedroom. he props you up against the pillows and drapes the comforter over you.

"the new episode of love next door is up, you wanna watch?" seungcheol asks, grabbing the TV remote and getting under the covers next to you. the one thing you loved about your home with seungcheol was the TV in the bedroom, for the days either of you couldn't be bothered to go out to use the one in the living room.

"yeah, i need to know what happens next," you nod, a smile breaking across your face. seungcheol gives you a dimpled smile of his own and puts on the new episode of the series you both were heavily invested in.

as the intro started playing, you snuggle closer to seungcheol. as if on instinct, he outstretches his arm for you to use as a pillow, and you wrap your arm around his waist. your legs tangle together and you rest your head on his chest, breathing in his cologne.

"thank you so much, cheol," you murmur against his chest. "you helped me a lot today. if you weren't there-"

"we don't need to think about that," seungcheol shushes you. "no matter what, i'd always be there for you. which is also why you don't need to thank me. i do it because i love you."

"i love you too," you reply, looking up at him. you're met with his loving gaze; the gaze that heals you from the inside out, easing all your worries and filling you with hopes for a better tomorrow.

a tomorrow with seungcheol by your side.

you lean in to kiss him sweetly, and he complies easily, holding you impossibly closer to him. just as you break away, a character on screen starts yelling, startling the both of you and making you burst into laughter.

the long, weary day finally ends with you safe and secure in seungcheol's arms.

you wouldn't have it any way else.

- fin.

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[voxmortuus]

May I have a piece where Soldier Boy reminds you where you belong? 😔💚

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Soldier Boy x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Boys ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 1.2k ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Dominant Solider Boy | Submissive Reader | BDSM Themes | Face Grabbing | Spitting | Boot Licking | Oral (Male Recipient) | P-i-V | Cream Pie | Implied Aftercare | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ I hope this brings you some joy. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @castiel ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

You've been feeling lost, a little out of your element, you've been feeling like everything has been in disrepair in your life, and you're feeling like you're ready to snap. It was easier when you didn't think about being with someone else, someone else was always going to disappoint. You had these expectations, and you constantly questioned if they were worth having because you're always being let down. You felt like you were at a dead end, you felt like maybe being what you are, who you are, wasn't worth it anymore. Little did you know, Solider Boy wasn't having any of that.

It was one of those days where you questioned most things, you questioned why things were going the way they were going, you had no answer, other than feeling like this was your fault. Sitting there you set your book down beside you and lean forward and rub your face. Leaning back in the chair you look outside studying the environment around you. Making a small face you were jolted by the door closing heavily and the sound of boots walking across the kitchen floor of your apartment.

"Hey, you're home..." you point out looking up at him, a small almost painted smile spread on your lips.

"Of course, I'm home." he stated looking over your face as he leaned against the door jamb.

"Well, that's good."

"You didn't greet me like you usually do." he pointed out with a slightly furrowed brow.

"No. No I guess not." you state placing your hands in your lap.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Well why should I?" you ask with a furrowed brow.

"Because that's what you do, always, never changes. So why change it now?"

"Because I want to. I don't belong to you." okay, at this point, you knew you were pushing his buttons, but you were doing it for a reason.

"You want to repeat that again?" he asked you, more like he was giving you the opportunity to change your answer.

"Because. I. Don't. Belong. To. You." you state, looking directly at him.

"You don't do, you? Hmm, strange, that's not what you had stated a few months ago." he pointed out.

"How precious." you scoff a bit. "That was then, things changed." you bite with a soft quip.

It was then you knew you crossed that line, and you were begging for it. Licking his lower lip, he crossed his arms tightly against his chest. He knew the game, but you crossed a line, and like hell, he was going to let you get away with any of it. Walking to you a little closer, he looks down at you.

"Kneel." he demands.

With a small smirk on your lips, you slowly do as you're told. Your gaze holds his slowly as you sink to your knees. Watching him intently, he points to his boots.

"Clean them, and don't miss a spot." he states.

You weren't reluctant, in fact, you felt your flesh growing hot at the idea of it all. Biting your lip, you slowly lower yourself, your arms move to the floor as you hover above his black military boots and gaze up a moment before you proceed to clean his boots. Your tongue is flat against the leather as you lick the material. Slight dirt, but nothing you can't handle.

Once you clean one boot, you move to the other. You feel yourself excited by this, feeling this tingle between your legs. You finish looking up at him, waiting for his approval. When he looks them over, you watch as he moves his hands to unzip his pants. You tilt your head, and he looks at you as if you know what to do, and boy do you.

With nothing but a moment, your hands move to release him from his jeans and boxers. Looking over the length, you can't help but mentally giggle. Fuckin hell. This man's cock was a goddamn masterpiece. You slowly began to work him, feeling the glorious flesh harden in your grasp as you slowly started to lick the length. His smooth hardening flesh against your tongue was warm against your wet muscle. You hear him groan softly as you take the tip between your lips, slurping down his length like the good little cock worshiping slut you are.

With every bob, every slurp, and bit of drool that escaped your loose lips as you pressed him to the back of your throat caused him to groan and caused your swollen lower lips to quiver with anticipation of being a good enough girl to feel that cock in other places. It was that moment when you realized this is where you will always belong, and there was no question about that. You didn't have to, nor did you want to question it.

He didn't want to release, not in your mouth, no, he wanted to fill that tight little hole between your legs. Standing you up, after pulling his cock from your cock holster, you whimper slightly. Feeling as he slips the old t-shirt from your body and tosses it to the floor. Lifting you, he places you on the counter, and without a second thought, he presses the head of his cock against your tight slit and slips right on in as if it was made for this. Made for him.

With a soft whimper, you clench your muscles around his hard, slippery cock. At first, his thrusts were steady and paced, but that was short-lived. They became quick and rough, and that's when you realized even more that this wasn't for you. You were his free-to-use fuck doll, and you were living for it.

With each rough thrust came a whimper from your lips, a grunt from his. Your hands and nails pressed against his arms, you sat there, on the counter, letting him use you. Dripping between your legs. His thrusts didn't let up, and reaching up he grabbed your face. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Looking into his eyes, you watch as he leans forward and spits in your mouth. Laying his claim in more than one way.

You swallow and moan as he presses his lips against yours, feeling your release so close, you knew to hold off. Whimpers and moans picked up in rhythmic manners as he picked up his pace. Thrusting harder against your walls, he grips your thighs tighter, spreading them a little further as he drives his cock deeper into you, flesh slapping against each other as he tells you to release.

Without a second thought, your head drops back, and you begin to quake. A loud, merely screaming moan escapes your lips as you both begin to ride out your finish. You feel this sudden eruption between your legs, hot ribbons of liquid spewing in between your lower lips, as you hear him growl and shove himself deeper inside you, filling you, mixing your fluids with his as it seeps out around his cock.

Feeling his mess dripping from you as he slowly pulls he looks over your face and smirks.

"Now, tell me..." you cut him off.

"I belong to you, and I will absolutely do better." You beam a panting smile.

"That's my Buttercup. Now, let's go get you taken care of. Shower, snack, and video games yeah?" He asks with a smirk.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eight

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

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

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

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

masterlist

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

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

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

It’s too repulsive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Solana.”

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

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

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

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

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

Roman….

He confuses her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just…..different. 

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

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

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to take care of something.”

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

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

________

Dear Mom,

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

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

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

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

Roman…

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

I’ve never had a man be nice to me. 

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

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

I feel so torn sometimes. 

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

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

I can’t.

________

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

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

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

That leaves one person.

Roman.

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

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is one of those moments. 

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

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

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

“Assess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whassup, my dogs!”

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

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

“Sami.”

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

“Go sit somewhere else.”

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

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

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

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

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

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

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

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

She has no idea where Solo is. 

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

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

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

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

Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soso.”

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

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

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

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

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

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

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

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

“I—I still don’t get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some she can answer. Some she cannot. 

So she asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

Survive…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you look good.”

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

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

For now. 

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

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

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman. 

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

“Roman Reigns.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman simply states, “talk.” 

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

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

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

“Do something.”

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

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

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

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him not being healthy concerns her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…..

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

About more than just his question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

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

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

Not good enough. 

“Make it 20.” 

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier is his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That only pisses him off even more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

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

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

He knew something happened to her. 

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped. 

Beaten. 

Twelve.

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

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

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

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

He’s fucking breathing rage. 

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

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

A fishing trip…..

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

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

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

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

Solana was hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is she up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Until I’m back….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

[mcflymemes]

ALIEN (1979) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

the other members of the crew are dead.

this is the worst shit i've ever seen.

anybody ever tell you you look dead?

alien life form. looks like it's been dead a long time.

i should reach the frontier in about six weeks.

can you hear me?

what was your special order?

you read it. i thought it was clear.

what about our lives, you son of a bitch?

how do we kill it? there's gotta be a way of killing it.

that's bullshit.

you still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you?

you admire it.

look, i've heard enough of this, and i'm asking you to pull the plug.

i can't lie to you about your chances, but... you have my sympathies.

something has attached itself to him.

we have to get him to the infirmary right away.

wait a minute. if we let it in, the ship could be infected.

you know the quarantine procedure. twenty-four hours for decontamination.

listen to me. if we break quarantine, we could all die.

look, could you open the goddamned hatch?

i can't do that, and if you were in my position, you'd do the same.

this is an order.

the ship will automatically destruct in t-minus five minutes.

you bitch!

you are my lucky star.

i find that hard to believe.

what would you like me to do?

i'll get my own answers, thank you.

some of you may have figured out we're not home yet. we're only halfway there.

what kind of transmission?

you were gonna leave us out there!

when i give an order, i expect it to be obeyed.

unless somebody has got a better idea, we'll proceed with [name]'s plan.

oh no. you're out of your mind.

i say that we abandon ship!

we take our chances and just hope somebody will pick us up.

i'm for killing that goddamn thing right now.

will you listen to me, [name]?

you don't know that.

that's the only way.

we'll go step by step and cut off every bulkhead and every vent until we have it cornered, and then we'll blow it the fuck out into space.

is that acceptable to you?

that's amazing. what is it?

please don't do that. thank you.

you let him in.

by breaking quarantine, you risk everybody's life.

maybe i should have left him outside.

maybe i've jeopardized the rest of us, but it was a risk i was willing to take.

i do take my responsibilities are seriously as you, you know.

you do your job, and let me do mine.

you remember anything about the planet?

what's the last thing you do remember?

we're on our way home!

i don't trust him.

i don't trust anybody.

it's a robot!

let's get the hell out of here.

there is an explanation for this, you know.

i'm sorry, can i say something?

we don't know if it's intelligent.

i wanna go home and party.

you don't dare kill it.

how long before the ship blows?

why don't you just fuck off?

it looks like a warning.

i can't see a goddamn thing.

get out of the room!

the first thing i am going to do when i get back is get some decent food.

open the door!

oh god, it's moving right towards you!

get out of there! behind you! move!

this place gives me the creeps.

whatever it was, it was big.

i'll get the shuttle ready.

wait a minute. there's movement.

where's earth?

something's different down here.

it's got to be around there somewhere.

[vilhelios]

— A LOVER'S OATH.

(no matter how much time passes, zayne's voice remains unchanging with you — low, pleasing to the ear, and always heartbreakingly gentle.) ; to kick off the follower event ! for c, 🐈‍⬛️🎬, my beloved cat lady, who has always fed my delusions : ZAYNE + 💌 13. "they have never raised their voice around you, always talks softly.”

cw: small text + all lowercase + not beta read ; fluff fluff fluff ; slight angst at the very end ; may be slightly ooc (it's my first time writing for zayne) ; caleb makes a very brief appearance ; slight foreseer!zayne spoilers

I.

you and ZAYNE are ten.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, always at your side. he gives you candies whenever you feel lightheaded, and fishes out a bandaid from his bag whenever you fall and scrape off the skin of your knee on concrete, and walks you home in the evenings whenever caleb had after-school basketball club. when grandma gives you pocket money to buy new crayons, or a new drawing book, she leaves just enough extra to buy those candies he loves so much from the roadside stall; and when zayne's mother gives him money intended for school materials, he can't help but spend it on the popsicles you said you liked.

zayne is your dearest best friend, just as you are his. he's never said it, but you know; you know it because he sits on the table nearest to yours, and doesn't care when your other classmates tease him for holding your hand during recess, and follows in your little footsteps as you drag him through the school's playground.

("i'm gonna be a hunter when i'm older!" you grin, limbs tangled in the bars of the climbing dome-tower. your hands smell slightly of metal, there's paint peeling off the bars and sticking to your skin, and you are young and fearless.

zayne stares up at you, from where he sits in the eye of the tower, eyes peeling away from the book he's reading: the snow queen. "why?" he asks, voice as soft as always. you're upside down on the top of the dome when you look back to answer him, and a young zayne doesn't know if his heart is beating so fast because he's scared you'll fall, or because of something else.

"because," the sound of your hand against the metal bar as you swing around reverberates in the cage, in your chest, and in zayne's mind. you hoist yourself out of the grid spaces, sitting on the bars now, "i want to take care of everyone!")

zayne is your sweetest friend. he knows when you're tired and hungry, even when you insist you're aren't, and proceeds to hand you a little sweet. he knows when the sun gets far too bright and the day far too hot, and places his little hands over your forehead to cool you down, evol swirling at his fingertips. he muffles the sound of the school bell with his palms over your ears, just as he does when your classmates get too rowdy, or when caleb yells for you from across the room.

("don't be so loud." he says, voice even and face as calm as ever, and you watch him gently whack caleb on the shoulder. "it's not nice." zayne does not say that it's because your ears are more sensitive than most.)

(the years pass, and not much changes between the two of you from the days of your childhood, besides the cavity fillings and growth spurts and skills with your evols. zayne still offers you those little candies, still dreams odd dreams, and still talks in the softest voice he can muster when he speaks to you. but eventually, zayne moves away, and your family in bloomshore district becomes you, caleb, and grandma once again.)

…

II.

ZAYNE is a sweet, gentle lover.

as sweet as the macarons and cakes and pastries he lets you buy, and the extra ones he buys to leave on your wanting plate. as gentle as the way he says your name, or the way he calls you darling, or my love, or the less common my snowflake when he spots you plodding over to the kitchen in the early morning. he’s already dressed as smart as always, with hands stained with the juice of the fruit he skillfully cuts. unbreaking strands of crimson apple skin twine around his fingers—neat, perfect, and then finally cut away by a decisive flick of the knife.

“good morning, my love.” zayne looks up from the peeled apple. his voice is a soft, low hum in your ears—it always is, always has been for as long as you could remember. “eat up. you need your energy for today.”

( not like today is anything different, or anything special… but he just wants you hale and healthy everyday. )

lucky mornings go like this, when zayne does not have to rush to akso: he gently slides the plate of breakfast he’d prepared over in front of you (always with a bowl of cut up fruit). then, he takes his own plate, and sits beside you at the kitchen island, shoulders brushing against each other’s as he settles on the barstool. the early morning sunlight bathes his apartment in rose-gold hues, slowly warming you from the chill of the night.

“did you sleep well?” zayne asks—as he always does, monitoring your health in these small ways too—and his voice mixes with the faraway sound of linkon city rousing from slumber. telltale sounds of traffic buzzes in the streets of the concrete and beton jungle below. birdsong flits through the air, church sparrows flying past the window. conversation too, bounces from topic to topic—today’s duties, an invitation for lunch at a cafe near akso, predicted times that you two will return home.

it’s a string of little murmurs, on these mornings with zayne. and this thread of domesticity ends at the doorway, with a final soft, “i love you. take care of yourself today,” as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips and another peck to your forehead. then, the click of the door closing as he pulls away.

( it’s the hardest part of his day. the easiest is the return — an always a too-warm embrace that seeps into his very bones, a peppering of kisses to your cheeks, and a sweet “i missed you, my snowflake. how was your day?” )

…

III.

who are you?

the FORESEER does not feel. he cannot afford to. he is not allowed to. the foreseer is as cold as the ice that he is both ruler and slave to, unrelenting, unforgiving. merciless. a tool for astra—a cruel god, crafting an even crueler tool. a hand meant to be made, tormented, and dealt.

and yet, when he sees you, a poor thief masquerading as an envoy... well, he cannot, for whatever reason, find it in himself to be a weapon. not when he sees visions of lives he has and hasn’t lived flicker into view like distorted deja vu, all centering around this false messenger he has ensnared in ice.

“you forget yourself, testing the limits of my benevolence.”

and even though the words are harsh (oh, and a small part of his inner self recoils at his words), the foreseer's voice is a gentle murmur. soft yet stern, a hint of confounding warmth in his cold tone; second nature.

( “don’t cry.” zayne says, at the end of it all. the jasmine flowers bloom, a gentle, silent symphony. )

cross posted on ao3 -- read it here!

creative notes: the iron dome in the playground represents the tower of thorns (?) in foreseer myth! zayne sits at the bottom (foreseer is always trapped) and reads h. c. anderson's "the snow queen" (which i think is quite fitting for astra-foreseer-mc), while mc/you is actively trying to escape the tower/defy fate.

a/n: went on hiatus for a bit due to uni work, but am back! will be working on the requests i got 🫶💕 i hope everyone enjoyed the new update for l&ds!!! i personally love sylus already, so he might make an appearance on my page eventually.... anyway, thank you as always for reading my stuff!!! i've never been this invested in an otome's lore until l&ds, so i'm just!!! i want to write more for them!!!

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hello, Sea, how are you? I hope your migraine is gone and you're fully recovered from it 💖

If you don't mind me being super self indulgent, I really sad at the moment, so I'll ask how hotd boys would try to cheer wife if she was down.

Thank you for sharing your qork with us, it always make me happy to read

I'm doing much better now thanks! Unfortunately I'm just someone who gets migraines occasionally and there's not much I can do about them, but I'm feeling much better.

Anyway, I love this question! I'm gonna write a little bit about our three main lads. This whole answer was supposed to be SFW but then I reached aegon and well... he's Aegon. So needless to say, I've had to put a cut in

JACAERYS:

So the first thing to note about Jace is how good his memory is? He always remembers all the things you tell him. He takes careful note of the things you like and the things you don't, and also he learns how you act when you're upset and what can upset you.

So he will notice almost immediately when you're feeling down and he will always try to help. Jace just wants you to be happy and healthy and so he will literally drop whatever it is that he's doing to try and help you. And if someone else needs him to be doing something else, he will distracted the entire time because he can't stop thinking about you and about what he can do to try and help you.

His go to method is to bring you your favourite flowers or wine or treats or whatever. If there's anything you have mentioned you really like in the past few weeks then he'll make sure to get that as well. He also just won't leave your side? Sure you can be in a bad mood and sulk all day if you want, but you certainly can't do that alone he won't let you.

AEMOND:

So I actually think realising you're feeling down would be genuinely distressing for Aemond? Especially if it's something he has absolutely no control of. He has no idea what to do, no idea how to make this better. His entire being is centred around making you happy and pleasing you and now you're upset and he feels like he failed. Even if whatever is upsetting you has absolutely nothing to do with him and can't be changed, he'll still feel like a failure.

He usually ends up asking you what you need. He would do whatever you want to make this better. No request would be too big. He would make anything work to make you happier. And you do have to actually give him something to do because if you don't he will be paralysed and not know what to do.

Needless to say, if he thinks there's even the smallest chance of someone having caused your distress then that person's days are numbered.

AEGON:

The moment Aegon realises you arent as happy as you usually are, he immediately asks you who needs to die. You always just roll your eyes and make him promise he won't set the kings guard on anyone, but he still might do it anyway.

When you inform him that no, he can't just murder every person to mildly inconvenience you, he sighs and then proceeds to promptly ask you if he can go down on you. Aegon's horny little gremlin mind literally goes, "Oh I can't kill someone? Fine, can I eat you out?"

Aegon will try his best to help in his own chaotic little way. Of course he will ask you what's wrong and listen to you, but to be honest he's one of the worst people to vent to. You'll say someone is making your life difficult and aegon is just like 'oh I'll have them killed' like no, no aegon don't do that.

Oh and also, he will cancel his appearances that day without a second thought if you're distressed. He could not care less about all the lords and ladies who travelled far and wide to see him, his pretty wife is upset so obviously the entire kingdom must come to a standstill until you feel better.

[tassodelmiele]

Tickles

And here we are again with NSFW, a Ghost x Reader a little...wet.

There's a little bit of pissing content. Not that much, but please, read just if you don't find it repulsive.

I can't say much more, I should be listening the terrible lesson I've paid for, since Italy wants professors to be burned out from burocracy, and also wants all of our goddamn money.

...........................

Legs are trembling like pudding thrown too early out of the fridge; hip is burning like a char muffin.

You're a rotten dessert, too baked to think straight, too melted to stand on your own.

And in the hell of a disaster that mission is, you're finding yourself being held in two reliable hands as if you're a melted ice cube supposed to be spooned.

And he's doing it without complaining.

You hiss a painful whimper under the touch of his digits on the bandage, brand new and already blood-soaked. Your hands run instinctively on his wrists, but he's stone-still in his duty to support your weight.

<Lemme do it. Just hold onto me, 'K?>

You come back clinging on his gear, grasping fingers around it while his touch lowers to your belt.

Ghost's voice hit you like a burning knife under skin, tattooing your awareness of the current condition:

<No need to worry, gorgeous. There's nothing wrong>

No. No, there isn't, you know it's just a normal, physiologic need.

But maybe feel the urge to pee in the middle of a goddamn nowhere, while hiding from who knows what kinda enemy, and with your hip torn by a flying bullet…maybe, maybe, it's not the best way to spend time.

Particularly if you can't stand by yourself.

Ghost holds your untied trousers with both hands, murmuring: «'M gonna get rid of this», waiting for your nodding forehead to brush onto his gear and give him permission.

Is a little bit of a jump in the void as cold air hits your tights slowly being undressed to the knees. He makes all the right moves to not let you without a grip.

<'S bleeding?>

You shake your head, murmuring a: <No>, referred to the goddamn wound.

<Good. Ready to crouch?>

Your nod it's the signal to proceed, and he follows your body through the movement till you two end up squatting on the ground, you with yellow panties exposed and the overflowing bladder, him with masked eyes wandering on the ceiling.

You try your best to move the panites away just how much it's required not to wet them; then, you're kinda ready.

It's not working, though. And you realize it with an embarrassed clenched of your teeth on the inner cheeks, and a nervous breath that causes the Lt's reaction.

<Problems?>

You chew a flustered: <I can't>

He frowns.

<Whaddya mean?>

<Is too…full>

You know how much of a pain in the arse you're being, and you're expecting at least to be left in that dark hole, crouched on the ground, and be considered a lost cause.

That until his gloved digits slide down just a little from your hips, giving you shivers on your naked tights' skin.

<'Ve heard tickle comes in handy> is the rough, muffled explanation.

You can sense gooseflesh growing where he touches.

Ghost's fingers trace your body lightly, trembling a little while trying to be as soft as possible, to not make you lose balance. Your hands are gripped so tight around his gear, but he's a wall in front of you, holding you still with one hand and painting your edges with the other.

He makes a sudden move, sliding between your buttcheeks.

You whimper: instantly, uselessly choking breath on his chest; and a tiny, little drop starts to flow down there, dripping from your throbbing cunt.

You're not quite sure it's pee, though.

<'S working?>

You don't know how to answer.

And his fingers come back, raising on the little of your spine left uncovered.

<You're trembling>

You're knotted, clinging onto him, grasping on his gear while something drips between your opened tights, and it's clearly not easy for your brain to focus on something which is not his presence on your skin.

Ghost curls up on you a little more, placing his bended leg between yours, trying to sustain your weight as much as possible. His free hand is pressed on your back, pulling you on his chest.

<Relax>

His open palm cups your butt, squeezing it softly.

<Let it out>

Two fingers start a slow run, up and down between your bottom, sliding on the sweating cold skin, passing on sensitive spots with nonchalance, getting slower as they lower, rising up again, then exploring a little more, deep down.

Till he touches your lips, down there: just a brush, a slight sensation of his gloves.

Your guts make a flip; your bladder lets out a little more, and you're pretty sure your panties are not lowered enough down your tights to be saved.

<Good girl>

His voice is a rough caress in your ears, filling up your dizzy mind.

Ghost wide palm gives you a nice couple pats on your butt, suggesting kindly: <Keep on, darlin'>

One last soft spank is enough to stimulate your belly, making it squeeze how it is needed to let a stream of pee come out.

You whine, hide in his gear, so red in the face that your cheeks are burning.

He brushes a low: <Good…> in your ears, holding your burning body, be careful on not touching the hip wound.

<'S everything out?>

You're about to nod in affirmation, to let go of the uncomfortable position, get dressed and pretend nothing happened. Is not just 'cause your knees start to hurt, your hip burns and you're panting as if you were running a goddamn marathon.

It's the arousal growing in your lungs, infesting your lower body and causing your belly to indulge Ghost's hold and firmly collide onto him.

It's the whiny breath you can't control anymore.

It's him, giggling in front of your flustered state, and just letting his hands make its way through all the road between your buttcheeks to the edge of your cunt, wetting his gloves in your stinky juices.

You arch your back, ignoring the pain.

<Lemme check, mh?>

He drowns his digits in you little by little, moving them inside nicely, pressing onto your sticky walls to reach as deeper as he can.

Your bladder throb under his pushes, making you gag a cry.

<Hold on, gorgeous>

He thrusts a little more, in and out, just to find the right place where to press his fingers and massage you inside.

Your cunt starts to tighten.

He murmurs: «'S ok babe, suck 'em up», so amused by the sudden reaction of a little stream of leftover golden drops dripping down. He moves again, searching for the little button inside, pressing and pushing on your walls till he feels you tremble against him. 

Then he pushes again, drawing little circles inside your sticky cunt.

<Everything out babe, know you can do it>

You whine, throbbing and jerking in his arms, but he's not letting you go. He stirs juices inside you, massaging deep, letting your pleasure grow and overflow on his gloves. You feel your bladder tremble, and it suddenly, totally empty in his hand.

He gets out all of a sudden, tearing his fingers away from your tight cunt. You throb, sobbing a moan in his gear, feeling your grip loosening under the unsatisfied pleasure growing under your belly.

Ghost's wet hand reaches your face, holding your cheeks to lift your sight to him.

<Thank your bloody wound, darlin', or I would have already thrown you on the goddamn floor to fill you whole> 

...........................

[warmerstranger]

STARFRUIT PICKS AND CARVINGS

。°˖ ʚɞ ꒦꒷⩩ Ft. The Astral Express (Trailblazer, March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt Yang, Pom Pom) x GN! Reader

°°``Marked as and not excluding: Yandere (manipulation, overprotective, controlling behaviors, implied stalking, gaslight, obsession, possessive traits), found family <3

°°``Recommended to read for those 16+, please proceed with caution.

Woo! Finally back :) Himeko is shortest despite being the first part I worked on.. unexpectedly difficult to write for.

✏ Packed up with unknown origins and left to wander as a fresh face with a gaze filled with wonder and raw sincerity like a piece of paper waiting to write out your own life, you're welcomed with open arms to travel between the stars and treated as if you've been around for a longer than even more than the Conductor themself.

☄Stelle/Caelus (The Funky Sibling)

- The one saving and dragging your ass out when you dive into troubles (particularly that is caused with/by them in the first place). You both be topping the most troublesome duo due to them being a calamitous influence on you, literally before you know it, you're already in it together; doing a little bit silly tomfoolery, antics and trash treasure hunting.

Despite them acting out a deadpan humor 23/7, they're gutsy and all when the situation needs it especially on that one time you're to hide in a closet with them from the Goethe Hotel's resident devil. Hands down they would really give a beating/long roast and rant to whoever is the unlucky person that mistreat you they aren't going to let it slide as long as you're under their watch, you have to restrain them back literally if you even could...! Trailblazer is either the living personification of your inner demons, intrusive thoughts, the very lethal temptations that need to be acted upon with you as the enabler or you can be a little goody-two shoes yourself and be the one affecting them under good impact—to be a reasonable member of the society, that's fine too. You can't change them at their core anyway, they're still their own person with a mind to act as they like, the omen of chaotic authenticity (you still play a big role in determining their behavior structure since they would be swayed easily especially if you ask nicely with a cherry on top and puppy eyes).

They like to gift you random trinkets you would've thought that they stole it off from some high class places or people (they might have) but most are actually from trash cans, they don't tell you that of course unless you ask nicely with a Cherry on top and even then you'll have to go through their original recital of the quote unquote, 'enlightening hard-fought' battles and journeys for obtaining the valuable trinkets.

You can count on them for any shiny secret of the stars/universe for sure, they're up to give you some thoughts-empty philosophical preaching that would leave you both more questions than answers. Onward to another illusion of free choice.

❆ March 7th (The Mouthy Cousin)

- The one treating you to accessories or piece of clothing she thinks you would be fit in or anything that might catch your eyes in the shopping sessions with her. You're mostly being treated as her dress-up doll or best companion for her to dump the juicy gossips or trends she got her hands on depending on her mood, no in-between.

March is always gushing about you one way or another, snapping pictures of you with her together so fast in a row of clicks that you can't really stop her from how... active she is. Surely she's just a harmless big fan of yours. In reality, she absolutely have tons of your candid pictures in her another separate limitless-storage camera. Any expressions, poses, and moments about you are a must she couldn't miss it a sec! She's literally keeping a secret album or scrapbook filled with them she could beat Dan Heng's data bank collection in that category at this point. What you don't know, wouldn't hurt you, right? Sometimes she and the Trailblazer quarrel against each other in terms of borrowing you as a partner/company to go with, like March would maximize all her brain cells potential for any reasons she could make up on that occassion or she would just have to delve in the intense battle of rock-paper-scissors.

She's your reliable source for up-to-date information and all the sensational tidbits, so you're very forced encouraged to count on her at that!

✒ Dan Heng (The Silent but Deadly Brother)

- The voice of reason, the dependable go-to in gathering and tidying up your thoughts, undoing the knots of jumbled up thoughts since he has the most braincell compared to the certain two others. Before you realize it, he's the person to depend on mostly—the closest you can reach out to anytime possible, you could be baring your heart to him and you wouldn't possibly realize when he has already keep it safe to somewhere out of reach from anyone else. Now, you would be holing yourself up more often in his room. Since he has this cultured cool air that makes him seem cool and competent, his words are credible ordinarily and thus influence your decision-making ability more like he would only need to tell you not to do something just in a quiet and clear tone and you could feel your temptation to inflict chaos withdrawed for the time being.

More frequently you might start to see yourself hovering close to Dan Heng or, is it him who has been always there from the first beginning as if knowing all your frequent spot and routes? Somehow you get the highest urge to be well-behaved under someone's silent watchful eyes that felt prickly with uneasiness it's almost like he has you on a leash.

You would be more prone to choose this alternative more than that option, taking up that one method because it's proven effective for you. Dan Heng doesn't need to do anything too drastic, what thoughts have he learned and collected about you are rarely let out too, it's giving him a peaceful satisfaction to know you're secured in his lines of thinking unless you start to go off the rails and gets your well-being threatened, that's when he will step in, revealing the moment you could witness he doesn't actually have that much self-restraint to uphold like the two others.

❇ Himeko (The Coffee Aunt)

- The one spoiling you rotten, similar to how March is, but in terms of more lavish things, clothes, and including weapons...!? She would every month give you enough allowance for you to splurge on depending how well you're behaving.

In your life, Himeko has become your driving force in a way you might not notice and you would end up only be ashamed of yourself after she gives you this disapproving look while telling you she isn't one to tell you something because she embodies a spirit of being adventurous herself, but she wouldn't be sure if you could do fine yet getting into specifically dangerous things like that. It's up to you nonetheless, she won't stop you, she wouldn't refuse to give a helping hand even in your supposedly own mess you made and if you had learn something you might regret for being involved with... be sure not to let her know or she would keep impelling you towards those things over and over until you get stronger as her way of training so you could face them by yourself that in the end, you might seek more journey and challenging ways of life to bask yourself in...

Of course, you also have the privilege to have her special coffee. In fact, she never stops getting ideas of new blends she could give to you based on your experiences so far—they would give it a more everlasting taste in your mouth that you wouldn't ever forget, don't you think? As reminded of that spacious and overwhelming milky way...

✦ Welt (The Thoughtful Grandpa)

- The one most doting and lenient on you who still keeps you under a protective control. Welt is the perfect balance out of the family; experienced, compassionate, has a boyish charm, sophisticated and wise. He's someone who you can't help but love him simply as the youthful parent he is. Either way, he has become the important part of your life, eager to keep pace with you and find out your latest development or daily journey. He likes to provide you with some of animations mixed of his experiences, everything that had passed up until the current time, your adventure and/or everyday routine as entertainment and even hinted education through clues and points you can take note from whenever you feel like you're in a bind in your life situation. Even just being in his company when you wind down, any conversations with him will result a rich fruitful knowledge and enlightenment philosophy if you let him get carried away with his track of thoughts, though it's still relaxing to hear his voice at least.

There's almost no cons that could trascend past the pros of him overall. No matter the struggles and troubles that you meet, you feel like you can tackle anything and having your hopeful future figured out, laid down to you that the only left thing to do is to believe in it then follow with all the courage you gain from reaching up to this far. Probably since a certain someone has been watching out for you and taking care of you too well as if you're his own child. You may notice Welt is discreet yet quite selective in allowing few people into your life, leading you away from fated encounters with the ones he advised to not get yourself involved, sparing you off the hassle to face a risky battle, and many others that you feel like he's shaping your life sometimes. But it's not like he's all that controlling or restricting, so it should be only wise to just trust him and leaving some responsibilities for him to take on, right? He's the experienced member who acts as if he's from the far off distant future that leaves momentous traces of his presence for you after all...

ᰔᩚ Pom-pom (The House Pet Owner)

- Guardian of the train with their own whole soul, with you as the passenger, they're all the more fussy about you with commands to take care of yourself and not neglect your health if you seem unwell (get ready for a more intensive checkup). At any signs that comes from something off even a slight dust speck or different scent on you will be brought up, interrogated, they need to make sure you're at your best most of the time! They couldn't have you feeling down as well or they would feel (even more depressed throughout the day) -as if they fail to fulfill their main purpose and duty, maybe there could also be something about the train that somehow bug you or dampen your mood...

So it's totally recommended if you depend on them; with some tasks in scope of their abilities (they will make sure to give their all and taking them very seriously), you can tell any nicely worded feedbacks or constructive criticism (if you even have the heart to reprimand them for it, shame on you) and hug them kindly for your needed soft texture of comfort dose (after much convincing, they are not to be treated as a stuffed animal!! but they're most indulgent on you without much consideration, they do appreciate and feel happy for being treated or praised this kindly). Pom-pom also wouldn't want you to tell the others (they still know though) that the conductor has always been giving more bonus rewards for you only.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Oh, Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You pull on a sweatshirt, your favourite lilac one with the frayed cuffs. You listen to the hallway before you come out of the guestroom. You sneak over across to rinse your face with cold water, trying to prepare yourself to face your cowardice. You have an apology ready, but it changes each time you recite it in your head.

You're still foggy. Your limbs are full of sand and your stomach is scraped dry. As you approach the top of the stairs, a wave of vertigo spins you. You latch onto the railing and steady the room. Your descent is cautious and sluggish. With each step, you want just as much to go back and hide in bed.

You won't. You can't. You want to change so change.

You follow the scent of coffee to the kitchen, the soft noise of porcelain assuring you of his presence. Andy's back is to you, his shoulder blades straining his shirt, as he pours himself a cup from the metal carafe. You don't know if he hears you as he leans a hand on the counter and takes a long sip.

"Andy," you squeak and a jolt of surprise tense his body.

He turns to you, wiping a droplet from his beard, the cup in his other hand. You give a sheepish frown and wring your hands. You teeth your lower lip as you measure your words, only to find the scale at zero. They're all gone.

"I'm sorry," you let your rehearsed speech float away, "can I make breakfast?"

It always made Amber happy when you tried. A meal, or a tiny chore, it always brightened her right up. So maybe it would work with him. To show him you're not entirely worthless.

His throat bobs and he shrugs, “of course you can, but I can help if you–”

“No, please, I can do it. You said… pancakes?”

His face softens and he dips his chin just slightly, “sure. Pancakes are good.”

“Right, uh, oh, I don’t have my tablet. I was going to look up a recipe…”

“It’s fine, I have some old cook books,” he sets his coffee on the island and goes to a deep draw set below a thinner one. He pulls out a hardcover book, “mom left em behind when she… passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he puts it on the counter, “I can pull everything out if–”

“Please, I think… I think I can find everything. You can go sit down.”

“Hmm, well, what if I’d rather stay and hang out?”

The lightness in his tone reassures you. He doesn’t sound mad anymore. Maybe he just needed his coffee. 

“That’s okay, I guess,” you say.

You near the counter and pull the book close. You open it and check the table of contents. Pancakes, pg. 17. You flip through and read the first ingredient. Flour.

Andy leans over and peeks as you search the kitchen with your eyes. He smiles and backs up, popping open a cupboard. There you see the flower among several other containers.

You come around and as you get close, he reaches to take the bag of flour down from the second shelf. It’s only that act which makes you realises you wouldn’t be able to get it yourself. He hands it over and you thank him. You hug the bag, the powder dusting out the top.

“Andy,” you teeter on your heels.

He tilts his head, let a brow furrow, “what?”

“Are you still mad?”

His mouth slants and he chuckles softly, “I wasn’t mad. I worry. That’s it.”

You look down. He sounded and looked mad, but maybe you misinterpreted. You sniff as you notice the flour on your shirt and you quickly spin away. You put the bag on the counter and look down at your sweatshirt, trying to dust it off. It’s not a big deal, you’re going to be cooking anyway.

You give up and go back to the book. You turn back as Andy knowingly pulls down the baking soda. You take it from him but as you do, he catches your sleeve. He pinches the frayed cuff. You tug, freeing yourself and hiding the loose threads behind your other arm.

“Cute sweater,” he comments, “too bad.”

“It’s fine,” you set down the cylinder and fold in the sleeves, hiding the tatters, “see?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he doesn’t sound convinced, “it’s a nice colour. A bit big on you.”

“I don’t mind,” you insist as you go to the fridge and slide out the tray of eggs, “really. I make due.”

“Ah, well… ever think of not making due? Maybe spending some of that money you’ve earned?”

“One day, maybe,” you say evasively as you take out the carton of milk before you return to the island, “did you want blueberries?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He crosses the tile and you cower as he reaches past you. He grabs his cup and sips from the brim. He pulls it away from his mouth and hums, “I love blueberries.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “thanks, honey.”

He leans in, just a little, and for a moment, your chest seizes. What is he doing? You swear he’s going to– He detaches and strides past you, “hope you don’t mind if I catch up on the news,” he chirps over his shoulder, “I know you’ll do a great job. I can’t wait to enjoy those pancakes.”

“Mhmm,” you issue a fragile hum, jittering from the close call. Was it really that or are you just overthinking again?

🕊️

You try to tidy up as the pancakes cook. You roll up the top of the flour bag and place it neatly under the cupboard for Andy to put back. You wipe away the powder left on the counter and a few stray specks of batter. As you rinse out the cloth, you smell burning.

You go back to the pan and flip the pancakes, only to find them black on the bottom. Oh no. You huff and toss them out. Start again. You have more than enough batter.

You use the spatula to balance the pancakes and dump them in the bin, letting the lid down. As you turn back, you hit the handle of the pan and it flips, knocking into the glass bowl of batter. You try to catch the pan as the bowl shatters and you cry out as the heat tortures your hand.

The cacophony of glass and metal and you shriek reverberates around you. You stare at the batter expanding in a large pool across the floor and whimper. Oh no, you’ve spoiled it all.

You stand with your hands out, burnt and thrumming. Andy appears in the archway as you can only sputter mindlessly. He carefully steps around the mess and takes you by the arm, turning you towards the sink. He doesn’t say a word as he flips on the hot water and forces your hands under the cool stream.

You murmur as you let him. It feels nice. You’re shaking, eyes welling, as you see the torment in your flesh, and feel it even deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head as he keeps your hands under the flow, “accidents happen.”

“I– I burnt them and when I turned–”

He hushes you, cradling your hands in his large ones. He’s gentle as he keeps you in place, until you’re suitably numbed. He shifts you away as he shuts off the faucet and grabs a handle down. He lightly lays it over your hands.

“I’ll clean up the mess–”

“You won’t,” he insists,” you’ll sit down and let me clean up your hands, get some salve on them, and wrap them up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you, don’t be,” he repeats, “sit, okay?”

You nod as he pulls out one of the tall chairs. He helps you up with a hand on your elbow and he backs away, unbothered by the cluster of glass and batter at his feet. He leaves you and you sob. You can’t do anything right, can you?

He returns and drags a chair over. You watch silently, castigated, as he sets to work. He applies a cooling cream to the burns across your palms and fingers, carefully wrapping them up. As you wince, he apologises. You wiggle your nose, barely holding back tears.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I'll clean up and then we can order something–”

“I’m sorry,” you hang your head, “I tried…” you pull your hands back, resting them daintily in your lap, “can I lay down?”

“Honey, you should stay up and eat. You promised me you’d eat, right?”

You nod, refusing to look at him.

“Alright, so you stay out here and I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you agree in a tiny voice.

He sighs, “I’m not doing this to hurt you, you know? If you’re not going to take care of yourself, someone has to.” He stands and gathers up the remnants of the bandages and the tube of salve. “I can’t, if you don’t let me.”

“I’m sorry,” you echo once more.

He says nothing. You can tell by his posture he’s irritated. You look down at the chaos you’ve wrecked. You wouldn’t be surprised if he sent you back to Amber, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to take you back. Especially after yesterday.

🕊️

Andy orders in and you sit at the table glumly. He places a container before you and flips the tops. Inside, there is a stack of pancakes, a small container of butter, and another of syrup. You say thank you and stare. Your stomach is a volcano, waiting to erupt.

You grab the butter and struggle to pop off the lid. You take the plastic knife and struggle to scoop out the creamy butter. Andy puts his container close and takes the chair next to yours. He turns in his seat and takes the knife and cup from you.

“Here,” he butters up each pancake and pours the syrup over. 

You can only watch. You feel like a child. He cuts up your pancakes and hands you back the fork.

“Got it?” He asks.

You nod. He turns to his own food as hold the fork awkwardly and jab at the fluffy squares. You sop up as much syrup as you can and nibble along the edge. He starts on his own pile, quiet as you languish in the lull.

“You okay?” He speaks at last.

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes those things happen. Let’s just move past it.”

“I know,” you mutter and chew.

“I’m just happy to have someone to spend my Saturday with. Usually… it’s just me, you know?”

You nod and finish the small square, letting your fork rest on the side of the container. He glances over and leans in, pressing his arm to yours.

“And you’re good company," he adds.

🕊️

You only eat half your breakfast. Andy accepts it with an air of disappointment but lets you go. You sit in the garage for almost an hour, staring at the canvas. You don’t know why it’s so hard. You have it all in your head but it just won’t come out. As it is, your hands make it impossible to do much.

After a while, you head back inside. Andy’s in the living room, the TV crackling with whatever sport he’s watching. He doesn’t look back as you pass the doorway. Good.

You retreat upstairs and tiptoe down to the guest room. You take out a pair of pajamas and take your towel with you across the hall. You close the door and flip the lock over. Maybe you should’ve asked but you figure it’s not too much trouble, not as much as bothering Andy. It’s his weekend, he deserves to enjoy it.

You turn on the faucet and watch the tub fill before you get undressed. You leave your fresh clothes on the closest corner of the counter and put the others on the opposite end. You take the cupcake soap with you and the fluffy pink loofah.

The water is hotter than you expect. You stand for a little before you can lower yourself. You look at the bluetooth speaker suctioned to the tile and step close, trying to find the buttons. You’ll have to bring your tablet in next time and see if you can pair it up.

You sit and sink into the heat. You always found baths to be relaxing. When your anxiety was bad, you could just forget. You should’ve brought a book but you let the regret slip away. You close your eyes and recline, the steam dampening your skin.

As you feel the water cool, you sit up and lather with the loofah and soap. You stand to get the rest of your body, the scent sugary but strong. You turn, trying to reach your back and hear a click as you do. You spin and face the door, facing Andy as he stands dumbfounded with his hand on the handle.

You drop down with a splash, hiding behind the wall of the tub. You cling to it, horrified. Why didn’t you close the curtain? You thought…

“...I locked the door…” you quaver.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes it doesn’t catch,” he says dully, his eyes transfixed on you. 

He shakes himself and finally looks away. You hide behind your hand, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He stutters and backs away.

“Sorry, uh, I’m sorry, dove, I didn’t… know…” He pivots stunted, his hand still on the door, and he pulls it shut as he leaves.

You stay as you are, staring at the door, heart beating furiously. You can’t believe what’s just happened. You just want to go shrivel up in bed and never come out. Never again.

[ellisgirl]

Harrison Gray — I Want to Know Every Inch of You Collection Event

Harrison and Body Measurement

I do not own any contents of Ikemen Villains. This story being uploaded in this blog belongs solely to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading their games and buying their stories. Both English and Japanese are not my mother tongue languages, please keep in mind that there will be mistakes and added words for my own preferences. I translate for my personal entertainment and for my own practice only.

My first time translating harry’s 😭😭😭

Harrison: "Crown's body measurement......”

Kate: "Yes. It seems that it also serves as a medical checkup."

When Victor asked me to take everyone's body measurements, I called Harry first.

In addition to basic information such as height and weight, the record sheet handed out also contains questions tailored to each individual.

Harrison: “Is that sort of thing within the purview of a Fairytale Master's work?”

Kate: “Of course. Because your growth is an important part of our record.”

Harrison: "...No, I won't grow anymore."

Kate: “You never know what the future holds, you know? Above all, I want you all to stay healthy."

Harrison: “Hmm…..”

(...Harry doesn't seem too keen on it.)

(Come to think of it, you also avoided going along with Roger's research.)

(...You don’t like being probed?)

Kate: “I'll make it quick, just bear with me for a minute. Okay?”

As if trying to convince a child who doesn't like injections, Harry took off his jacket.

Harrison: “Just so you know, it's not that I don't like being probed.”

I blinked at Harry's addition, as if he had read my mind.

Harrison: “I just thought you seemed to take on everything."

Kate: "Did you worry about me?"

Harrison: "I don't know....... So, how are you going to find out?"

(It's usual that there is no answer…, but it was easy to understand now.)

My mouth relaxed at Harry's apparent concern for me.

Kate: “Starting with height, weight....., and chest and abdominal circumference."

Harrison: "Understood."

Using a measuring tape, Harry's body is measured as he stands in front of me.

(If you want to measure properly, you need to be in close contact with him...)

If I put the measuring tape on Harry's back, he'll be in a position where I am hugging him from the front.

Even though I know that his body is masculine and robust.

I was strangely conscious, so I applied the tape measure while moving my body away from him a little.

Harrison: “Wouldn't we have to stick together more to get an accurate measurement?”

Kate: "T-That's right..."

He closes the distance when pointed out, but I’m too nervous to look at Harry's body properly.

Harrison: “Don't be shy, why don't you do what you always do?”

Kate: “Always?”

I turn my head and Harry teasingly whispers in my ear.

Harrison: “You clung desperately to me naked when we were shagging and wouldn't leave me. Why are you so shy now?”

Kate: “E-Even if you give me examples of things like that...”

Harrison: “If you want me to recreate the scene, I'll do it.”

Harry pulls my hips closer, slides his knee between my legs, and pushes me up.

Kate: “Nn, it’s no good.”

Harrison: "What's wrong?"

Kate: "...If that happens, we won't be able to measure anything."

Even though I say that, the force with which I push back against Harry's chest is modest.

(......I know exactly what I need to do, I need to get on with measuring.)

(But if Harry comes on to me, I can't resist strongly enough ......)

Harrison: "Haha...your face is bright red. Now that I’ve seen your cute face, I'll be obedient and cooperate with the measurements then.”

Laughing teasingly, Harry took his hand away from mine.

I felt relieved and at the same time realised that my nervousness had eased.

(Maybe Harry was deliberately pressing me to get me used to it.)

I was also pleased to find Harry's teasing mixture of kindness.

In this way, the measurements managed to proceed—

Kate: “Okay, ….now the last item has been filled in. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Harrison: “.....By the way, are you going to do measurements on everyone from now on?”

Kate: "That's right. It seems that everyone is here today, so I'm going to do it all at once."

Harrison: “Hmmm...... Can I do that?”

…

Kate: "Thank you for your help. It was very helpful!"

Harry helped everyone in the Crown with their physical measurements because he had time.

He took the measurements with a tape measure, I recorded them. We divided the roles and the measurements were completed in no time.

(Hehe... Harry is mean, but kind and reliable.)

As I'm falling back in love with him, Harry looks at me with probing eyes.

Harrison: “So, whose body was the best?”

Kate: “Eh..... What do you mean?”

Harrison: “You've examined all of their bodies, haven't you? I'm asking you whose body you found most attractive.”

Harrison: “I'm sure you have your favorite body shape and favorite parts, don’t you?”

Kate: “Even if you say so...”

(I only thought it was good that everyone seemed to be healthy without any major injuries.…)

(......There was only one person I couldn't consciously measure well.)

Kate: “……Harry.”

Harrison: “Hm?”

Kate: “The only thing that made me nervous was your body.”

Harrison: “……..” 0_0

Kate: "Do you believe it's true?"

The heart is invisible, so even if you really mean what you say, sometimes you may not be believed.

But his ability to see through the lies is also his ability to believe. I can tell him how I feel without deception.

Harrison: *blushing* "......I understand. Your words are not a lie."

Harrison: “I never imagined before I met you that there would ever come a time when I would use this ability for love.”

I'm the one who said the embarrassing line, but I feel that Harry, who exposed my heart, is more embarrassed.

Kate: “Hehe. I see you've found a fun use for it.”

Harrison: “......Come to think of it, I've got a record sheet for you too.”

Maybe he was embarrassed, Harry suddenly changed the topic.

Kate: “Yes. I'm also going to measure it later and fill it in.”

Harrison: “Heh...... Who do you let touch your body and measure every inch of it?”

At first, I thought I should ask someone who was available for my body measurement.

(However, after taking everyone's measurements, I realised that even if it's just a physical measurement, touching me is—)

Kate: “—Harry is good.”

After answering, I realised the mistake of my statement.

Kate: “....If it's not Harry, I don't want it.”

After rephrasing it, Harry smiles with a satisfied smile.

Harrison: “Fine. If it has to be me, I'll do as you ask.”

Harrison: “......But before that, I'll get paid for the labour.”

—After a kiss that is too sweet to be called compensation.

Every inch of my body had been thoroughly examined by Harry's hands.

Fin.

Masterlist

[e-r-i-15]

𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝓚𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴

🅂🄸🄼 🄹🄰🄴🅈🅄🄽 🅇 🄵🄴🄼!🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁

Soccer Player!AU - Non Idol!AU

Author's Note: Ah, I'm so excited, this is my first ever piece of writing that I'm publishing on Tumblr. I'm listening to Romance: Untold while writing this, so I recommend you do too. Btw, I don't know anything about soccer, so bear with me.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

If there's anything the boy's soccer team like doing, it was making up random games and code names.

Was it childish? Yes. Did they care? Absolutely not.

But perhaps their most favourite game was the corner kick game.

"It's easy, you get the girl you like to touch the ball before you kick it," Sunghoon says.

"But why? And wouldn't it be suspicious?" Riki asked while playing with the ball.

"It's good luck, Riki."

"Uh-huh, sure-"

"Riki, don't piss of Sunghoon, and Sunghoon, don't tell the kid weird things," Jay's voice rings inside the locker room.

Jake rolled his eyes, used to these small arguments, and continues to warm-up.

He runs around the field once before starting to stretch, when he notices a girl sitting next to the field with her friends, specifically next to the corner arc.

She was reading a book, her hair flying every where with the wind. She lifts her head up every now and then to look at her friends, who are running and dancing around, making silly actions.

Jake sees her laugh. Even though he can't hear it, he feels that it's a very pretty sound.

"Jake! Come on, we're starting." He hears Sunoo yell at him.

Jake runs to the centre of the field, and the game starts. The whistle blows, the guys start yelling, but all Jake can focus on is the ball and the girl.

The ball finally passes the goal line by the other team, indicating a corner kick for Jake's team.

"I got it!" Jake yells, running to get the ball. He sprints to the corner arc, specifically where the girls are at.

The girl he was watching has her head on another friend's lap, now watching the sky above her.

Jake goes up to them, his extroverted personality suddenly leaving him. He feels his heart race as he sees the girl, the sun perfectly lighting her up.

"Excuse me, could you move a little?" He says, his voice weak.

The girl raises her head, shoos all of her friends away from the spot, about to leave herself. "I'm so sorry. We'll go sit on the bleachers instead."

She turns around and proceeds to walk away, before Jake gathers his courage, "Wait! May I know your name?"

"Y/N." She answers simply and leaves, off to find her friends.

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

"You know, Y/N is so pretty." Jake suddenly says, his head laying down on the table.

"Hyung, respectfully, do you ever shut up?" Riki says, groaning.

"Look man, I love you just like everyone else, but can you please provide us some peace? If not us, than the other people in this library?" Sunghoon pleads, tired with Jake's simp behaviour.

Jake raises his hands, as if surrendering, "Sorry, not sorry!"

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

Jake gets the ball, skipping to the corner arc, where Y/N and her friends are.

"Hi, Jake! Sorry, we'll move away." Y/N says quickly, ushering the girls away, before Jake opens his mouth.

"Actually, Y/N, I was wondering if you could touch the soccer ball once."

Y/N tilts her head to a side, while her friends teased her in the background, "Yeah, Y/N, touch the ball for him."

Y/N glares at them playfully, before reaching forward and giving the ball a slight tap.

Jake hears his teammates yell and cheer. "SHE TOUCHED IT!" Heeseung yells in the distance.

Jake smiles at her, before kicking the ball to Jungwon.

Seconds later, his team makes a successful goal, winning the practice game.

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

Jake sits in the library, again, for the fifth time that week, trying to finish his biology homework that he'd been procrastinating on ever since it was given out (almost a month ago).

He was not even halfway done before his fingers started cramping up. He cracked his knuckles, when a soft voice stopped him.

"Hey, Jake, can I sit here?" Gesturing to the seat next to him, was Y/N.

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"What are you working on?" She whispered.

"Biology, but I'm having trouble with it though." He whispered back.

"I can help you!" She said excitedly, while he stifled back a laugh.

Y/N guided him through the homework, sitting close to him, while he helped her with her physics homework.

For once, there wasn't an awkward silence between them.

"Jake." Her voice interrupted.

He looked at her, smiling, "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to know about this, but why do you make me touch the ball whenever you do a corner kick?"

Jake tenses, he starts looking around, avoiding her curious gaze.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a silly tradition."

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

The soccer finals.

Team Decelis made it to the finals, they were going against River Heights, and so far, it was tough.

The game was almost about to end, twenty minutes to be precise, and it was still 1-1. The boys were tired, and the applause were less enthusiastic now, the crowd slowly losing its energy.

Jake couldn't blame them, it almost seemed as though the goalies were kicking the ball to each other.

At last, River Heights' goalie kicked it past the goal, leading Decelis to get a corner kick.

Jake gets the ball and runs to do it, finally happy to break the cycle.

He sets to ball, but just before he kicks it, he takes a second to look next to the bleachers.

Y/N.

He sees Y/N, worried, standing so close to him.

The world seems to stop around him, and he can't really process anything that's happening. He suddenly can't seem to understand the point of this game, why was he playing?

Was it to win? No, that didn't seem right. No, he was playing for Y/N.

That's when it hit him, she was his lucky charm. This game is entirely pointless without her.

He extends his arms, gesturing to the ball, silently asking her to touch it.

"Please?" He whispers. Jake can barely hear himself, but he knows that she understood when she smiles at him, small, but ecouraging.

She races to him quickly, tapping the ball, before leaning forward to give him a kiss on his cheek.

His happiness knows no bounds as he kicks the ball to Jungwon, who is free, and then has the ball kicked back to him as he runs to the goal.

He dribbles the ball, passing an opponent, before kicking the ball into the net. The buzzer rings immediately after, signalling the end of the game.

The crowd cheers, and his teammates hug him. Jake is sweaty, tired, and just wants to go home, but instead he looks at the crowd that is now surround him, his eyes searching for the one person he want s to see now.

The one person that is now running toward him.

He hugs Y/N, almost squeezing her. He lets go of her, just for a second, before her lips crash into his.

Because, she is his home, his favourite lucky charm.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

This is actually kind of based on true events with one of the boys in my school, but it doesn't end with us dating, we're actually, kind of, enemies? I don't know. -eri

[mikeeel]

always 'nd forever seungcheol x mixed!reader (MY REPPP) bestfriends to lovers!au (YAAAAAAAAAA) warnings: not much, jst dirty things & suggestive not explicit smut but yanno they get naked, weed, Idk

based off of girl with the tattoo.lewd by miguel

IMAGINE:

you and seungcheol had been bestfriends for as long as you could speak. you two were glued to the hip since youth and no matter how many times you tried to break apart, you always managed to come back to each other. you've never known anyone different. it's always been you and him. it was visible you were close. so visible, your classmates would ask either of you where the other was when they weren't present, because if anyone would know where one was, the other would know. and it's correct. you always knew. you shared everything, you've seen everything. nothing was, embarrassing between you two, i mean, you've bathed with each other for god's sake! that's what close friends do. and since he always defended you when people would comment on your skin colour and then your parents' LACK of colour, you always found him a safe place, a comfort zone. and since he was always alone, you gave him company within a big house.

'girl! where are you?' yunjin waves in your face, pulling a face as she snaps you back into reality. 'sorry, uh,' you scramble to find the notes you were reading over. but your phone vibrates.. cheollie :) is ringing you swipe your phone quicker than yunjin could blink and you answer it with a honey-dew like voice. 'hello?' you say while twirling your hair like a 14 year old girl. you smile cheekily while yunjin pulls the most disgusted face known to man. 'uhm, yeah i'm studying with yunjinnie.. uhh, we're like done now basically hahaha.' you cutely giggled as you falsely claim that you've finished everything (you haven't even started) and start packing away. 'a party?' you stop in your tracks and yunjin's eyes widen. you look at yunjin and she shrugs, egging you on to reply. 'sure, i'll go. yunjin will come with me,' you say as you mouth sorry to a pissed off yunjin. 'okay. love you, bye' you hang up and slap your head repetitively. you can never say no to seungcheol and it's starting to piss you off. 'are you serious, y/n? our project is due in two days.' yunjin scolds you and proceeds to pack up too. 'yunjin, please! this could be my chance.' you beg her with pleading eyes. 'smch, whatever,' she rolls her eyes and grabs you to get ready for the party.

you knock on the door of the house literally vibrating from the loud dj music and screaming. seungkwan opens the door with a desperate look on his face. seungcheol is attempting to chug from a keg but is failing miserably. as you watch him you hear yunjin whisper, "why don't you show him you can do everything he can?" as you remember all the times he says you were too 'afraid' to have fun. you walk over there and snag it from seungcheol's hands. as you chug it and chug it, everyone is egging you on. as you remove your lips and look up from the keg, seeing stars mixed with people's faces the whole room is silent. everyone is looking at each other while seungcheol looks at you in shock. he gives you the widest, shit-eating grin ever and exclaims. 'fuck yeah!!' cheers and roars of encouragement are heard as everybody slaps your shoulders and back. dokyeom shakes your hand. 'well done, y/n. i knew you could do it. i'm about to cry,' he starts to weep dramatically and you roll your eyes. 'y'all can't take no shit.' you kiss your teeth as you whip your head away from him. dokyeom laughs out loud and slaps cheol on his back. 'i forget your girl's british and jamaican. combination of two worlds,' he attempts to do a british accent but pathetically fails. but what you focus on is that dk called you seungcheol's 'girl'? and, he didn't react but laugh and slap him on the back of his head. you can't lie, it got you flustered but that's normal right? right..

'come on, dk. lay off it. your british accent is almost as bad as your engineering final grades,' vernon chuckles as the three of you bust up laughing as dokyeom walks off with an attitude. you don't forget what you came here for though, so you tap cheol on the shoulder. 'hey, can we talk?' you whisper in his ear, he nods and pulls you closer to whisper back. his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear as he whispers. 'yeah of course darling, what about?' you freeze. you personally combusted into a million flames and literally FELT like you were on fire. you felt like you were about to pass out and fawn like women did in those really old movies. you pull him closer until he turns his head and silence.. everything seems silent. it was only for 20 seconds or so but it felt like eternity in his eyes. you snapped out of it though when you dragged to a typical spin the bottle. cheol shouts in agreement as he puts out his hand. 'wanna do it?' as his eyes trace your features. your perked lips and brown eyes with falsies flashing at him. you look beautiful, he's mesmerised. you put your hands in his. 'only if it's with you.' you say as you squeeze his hand. he flashes a golden boy smile as he holds your hand to walk to the living room.

'okay, y/n. you spin,' dokyeom says while taking a swig of some bacardi. you shake your head and spin. it spins and lands on vernon. everyone laughs and chants 'kiss' as you shrug. you don't give a fuck, you downed so many shots and had that big bowl of alcohol, you don't remember what's what and you don't care either.

'sexy, give me a kiss,' you slur as a joke and climb to vernon and grab his face. you kiss him long, slow and hard. everyone in the room is shocked, except one.

seungcheol.

he's bursting at the seams inside actually, trying not to rip you off vernon and show you exactly who deserves you. his clenched teeth and fists, he's mad. and dk noticed. he clears his throat before you start to get deeper in the kiss with vernon. you two break apart and you let out the most obvious giggle ever. vernon shakes his head as you turn your body around to sit on him, and vernon snakes his hands around you to wrap himself around you and whispers in your ear. you giggle and whisper back at his ear as your head tilts backwards onto his shoulders. this is when seungcheol breaks and stands up and proceeds to storm out the living room. you're too focused on vernon's shoe crevices to even notice he's gone until you noticed the long silence with everyone looking at you.

'what?' you question as you turn to ask seungcheol what's going on, you saw he wasn't there anymore. yunjin slaps vernon's hand from your waist.

'girl? did you forget what you here for?' yunjin hushers as she pushes you off. your eyes widen as you run off to find seungcheol.

he's upstairs in his room, window open and looking out into the street. faint barking and alarms can be heard with the midnight sky. the house feels quieter, but he doesn't care that much. 'vernon? you gotta be shitting me,' he says to himself.

you walk up the stairs, towards the back of the house where seungcheol's room is, cursing yourself for not thinking. that's exactly what you NEVER do. you see the door is slightly ajar so you creep in. you scowl as you see a cigarette. as you take the cigarette from his hand, he looks up at you with jealousy in his eyes but a twang of hurt too. 'stop smoking, i told you it's not attractive,' you say as you twist and turn it on the ashtray. 'says the one who smokes blunts,' he grunted as you laughed. 'only when i go to jamaica,' you stand next to him and fiddle with your jeans. 'do you like me, y/n?' he asks and you tense. a long exhale is heard as you scratch your head. 'yeah,' you say straight up. cheol nods. silence occurs and you get more uncomfortable by the second. 'it's okay if you don't like me back. i get it,' you stammered. he shakes his head. 'i've been waiting for you for you to like me back since i turned 15. trust me, there's a lot of things that i'm not, but the one thing i am is in love with you,' he said, but his lip twitched. usually it means he's nervous so you move your hand to his. 'i'm sorry for kissing vernon,' you whisper, squeezing his hand. you've both held hands many times but this time, it just feels different, it feels real. 'it's okay n/n. you can kiss me instead,' he turns his head to face you. you feel sober, he made you realise, he's your reality, your future. he always had been. your eyes get glossy as you admire his features. you lean in to kiss him, his lips flushed against yours. over time, you get closer, touchier. you feel him, here, now. you break apart. the only light in the room is moonlight as he leads you to his bed. 'i want to show you how vulnerable i am for you, y/n,' cheol begins slowly rising his shirt, showing his heartbeat tattoo on his heart. his body sculpted by god, perfecting itself in the shining light. you truly are in him completely. 'i'm vulnerable for you, seungcheol. i always have been,' you unbuckle your corset top as you let it fall, revealing your blue, lacy bra. he inhales as he tries to contain himself, he unties his sweatpants and lets them fall too, kicking them to a random place in his room. you undo your jean buttons, removing your trousers. you're both left in your underwear, you nod and begin taking them off, revealing your nude bodies. you feel cold as the open window brushes wind through your body, making you shiver. cheol laughs as he walks towards you. he opens his arms, leaving you to make the choice to embrace him or not. you're hesitant, but you step closer and hold him. you stay like that for a bit, holding each other.

he lets you go and slowly lowers you onto the bed, prepared to show you how much he truly loves you.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Keep Your Eyes On Me... (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Steve x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader x Alpha!Steve

Wordcount: 1465

Summary:

Rainy days have a tendency to work you up. You don't know if it's being cooped up indoors or what but something just comes over you. And there’s only one way to soothe this ache.

Warnings:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism

Notes:

Another fun little snapshot before we get back some serious plot heavy installments. Happy reading!!

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Rogers” He speaks into the phone. 

“Hi Stevie.” You husk out. 

“Well hello there my sweet little Omega.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. 

“Can you do a favor for me Alpha? I need your help.” You innocently inquire. 

“Sure Doll. What do you need me to do?”

“Are you in your office?”

“I am.”

“Good. Can you video call me please? It’ll be easier to show you what I need that way.”

“Okay. See you in a moment doll.”

He hangs up and proceeds to video call you on his computer. You answer wearing nothing but his open and unbuttoned dress shirt on the couch, exposing your nude flesh. Laptop sitting on the coffee table, giving him the perfect angle of your crossed legs.

He arches a brow. “Omega. What is this?”

“I’m so horny Stevie. I can’t get anything done.” You squeeze your thighs together, seeking relief to this ache. “I wanna watch you jack off. I really need an orgasm so I can focus."

His cheeks turn a light pink as shock and a bit of lust begins to cover his face. “You want to watch me do what, doll?”

“I want you to take out that big dick of yours and stroke yourself as I play with my little pussy til we both cum. Please Alpha. I need it so bad.” You state with conviction as you run your fingers up your legs.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of dirty images running through his head. 

“Please. I know you’ll enjoy it” You pout, slightly jutting out your bottom lip. 

“I’m at work, Omega.” His Captain's voice slips out as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. It’s only turning you on all the more. 

“That makes it more exciting. Come on. Please Alpha. My slick is practically dripping out of me. See?” You uncross your legs and shift your hips to the edge of the couch. Opening them wide, you show off your glistening folds and drenched thighs. 

That’s all it really takes for his resilience to just fly out the floor to ceiling windows.“Look at you. Mmmm. You’re trouble wrapped up in an innocent package. You know I can't resist when you beg and are so clearly needy.” 

He gets up and heads to lock the door. Undoing his pants on the walk back to his desk. Standing proudly in front of the camera he makes a show of pulling out his hardened member from the confines of his boxer briefs before he sits down. Giving his thickness a few slow strokes until a pearly bead of precum emerges, to which he spreads around his head with the aid of his thumb.

“This what you want, Omega? To watch what just the sight of that sweet little pussy does to me?” He gives his base a firm squeeze. 

Mesmerized by the sight of his large hand sliding up and down his turgid length, you begin to trail your fingers up your inner thighs, capturing your slick along the way. You proceed to bring your drenched fingers to your mouth, staring straight at the camera, legs spread wide as you wrap your lips around the digits and clean them of your essence.

Those ocean eyes your love so much, zone in on mouth as you taste yourself, a low growl emitting from his chest. “ Fuck . That’s how it is, Omega? Gonna tease me? I thought you wanted to get off?” He arches a single brow as you watch the blue of his eyes recede as they dilate with lust. “Take those wet little fingers of yours and rub your clit for me. If you want to watch me pop my knot, you better hurry up. Who knows if someone will come knocking on my office door.”

You slowly caress your damp fingers down your exposed torso until you reach your hooded little nub and proceed to lightly circle it. 

“Good girl.” You mewl and apply a bit more pressure at his praise as you watch him continue to stroke himself. “That little pussy is just drooling waiting to be stuffed.”

“I wish you were here, Alpha. Your knot would fill me up so good.” Your greedy pussy decides to clench around nothing at the thought of being stuffed full of a knot. It does not go unnoticed by hungry Alpha on the other end of the screen.

“I can see just how bad you want it, Omega. Poor little pussy has nothing to squeeze around. We’re just going to have to fix that.” He gives the camera a mischievous grin. “I want to watch you ride your fingers like you would my cock doll.” 

An idea pops into your thirsty brain. Before you can think better of it, you stand up and turn towards the couch, back facing the screen. You place your knees wide on the cushions and lean forward on the pillows. You arch your spine and present your dripping folds to your Alpha.

"Always look so pretty when you present for me, Omega. Bout to pop my knot already just thinking about how warm and fucking tight you feel wrapped around me when got that glorious ass in the air. Fuck. Don't even get me started on how deep you can take me." You can hear the subtle sound of his hand speeding up along cock.

You reach down and slowly slide two fingers inside you as his dirty tirade continues. The heel of your palm stimulating your engorged clit, turning you into a moaning mess. You're so turned on, it won't take much to send you over the edge.

"Add another finger, Omega. I know you can take it." He grits out. 

"Yes, Alpha. Want you to filling me up instead." You add a third finger and begin to pick up the pace as you tease against that spongy sweet spot inside. "Fuck."

"Just look at that greedy pussy sucking in those tiny little digits of yours. You close, Omega?"

"So close. Wish it was your knot. Need your knot Alpha." You moan out. 

"Turn around, Omega. Wanna see that beautiful face as you fall apart watching me pop my knot and begging for it." There’s that Captain voice again.

With a quickness you didn't think your delirious state would allow, you turn around and lean back. 

"Heels on the couch, Omega. Spread those thighs wide and go back to stuffing yourself with three fingers wishing it was my cock." He orders. 

With your eyes locked on your Alphas leaking and angry cock encircled in his large hand you push three fingers deep inside you. With your other hand you draw little infinity symbols against your overly sensitive clit. 

As you're thrusting your fingers to the same rhythm of Steve's strokes. You notice his knot slowly to begin to swell as he picks up the pace. 

"Wish you were home Alpha. Need to be stretched out on your thick knot. Need to feel you filling me up Stevie." You speed up your fingers, dancing along the knife’s edge of an impending climax.

He growls so deep within his chest that you swear you can feel it vibrating your own through the little laptop speakers. "Fuck doll. Too bad you're not here. I'd have you bent over this desk, screaming my name for the whole compound to hear as you took my knot like the perfect little omega you are."

That does it. His words send you over the edge. You turn into a breathing, whimpering mess as you ride out your high. "Please Alpha. Need your knot. Feel so fucking empty. Want to be full of your babies. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please."

No longer able to hold back as he watches you come undone at his words, his knot pops and thick ropes of his milky white seed proceed to cover his hand and abs. "Fuuuuuuccckkk." He groans out. 

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky has returned home during your little video call. Quietly watching you from the hall as you begged for a knot. He sneaks up behind you and whispers in your ear. “Oh I’ve got a big knot for you to ride Omega.” 

Kissing his mating gland, he turns his gaze on his best friend catching his breath. “Say goodbye to Stevie, Omega. He needs to clean up so he can get home before he misses out on all the fun.” 

You give a quick “Bye, Stevie” as you are already undoing Bucky’s pants to get to his cock as he continues. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, pal. I don't think my knot is gonna be enough for this little one today. You know how she gets when it rains.”

[sf447da]

The Apartment Next Door

You've barely seen your new neighbor, Jen, since she moved in a few weeks ago. She seems like a friendly person from the brief exchanges you've had in the hallway, but life has kept you both busy. Then, one day, something unexpected happens.

As you return home from work, you notice a small envelope taped to your door. It's addressed to you, and when you open it, you find an invitation from Jen. She's inviting you over for dinner this evening. It's a simple, handwritten note that reads: "Hey there! I've been wanting to get to know my neighbors better. How about joining me for dinner at 7 PM? My place, Apartment 304. Can't wait to meet you! - Jen."

You're pleasantly surprised by the invitation and decide to accept it. It's an opportunity to finally get to know Jen better and make a new friend in the building. As evening falls, you make your way next door to Apartment 304.

To your surprise, you find Jen's apartment door slightly ajar when you arrive. Concerned that something might be wrong, you push it open cautiously and call out, "Jen? It's me, your neighbor. Is everything okay?"

There's no response, but a soft light spills out from her living room. You proceed further into her apartment, your footsteps echoing in the silence. The place is neat and tastefully decorated, and you can't help but admire Jen's sense of style.

As you approach the bathroom, you notice that the door is also slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently, you call out again, "Jen, are you here?"

Your voice trails off as you step inside. What you see takes you completely by surprise. Jen is in the bathroom, wearing a lycra bathing suit that clings to her body like a second skin. Her upper half is contorted, twisted, and stretched in ways that seem beyond the limits of the human body. It's almost as if she's performing some kind of extreme yoga pose.

Her upper body is on one side of the bathroom, while her lower half is on the other, creating a bizarre and surreal tableau. She looks up and sees you, her eyes widening in surprise, but there's no anger or embarrassment in her expression. In fact, she seems somewhat excited that you've discovered her secret.

"Hey there," she says, her voice surprisingly calm given the situation. "I didn't expect you to find out about my... flexibility. I guess the cat's out of the bag now, huh?"

You're stunned and don't know how to respond at first as Jen slowly begins to untangle herself from her impossibly outstretched position. 

"No need to worry," she says with a mischievous smile. "It's my secret talent. I thought you'd like to see everything I can do..."

As she stands up and stretches her arms above her head, you can't help but admire the incredible flexibility and impossibly sexy form she possesses. It's like nothing you've ever seen before. You realize that this unexpected encounter has brought you closer to your enigmatic neighbor in a way you could never have anticipated. That realization shortly followed by the feeling of your erection growing in response to the rubber girl.

Jen grins and blushes, your surprise turned into pure arousal shared between the two of you, "Well what do you thi...oh, hehe. I guess that answers that question!"

She runs her hands down her body as it stretches once more. "Would you still like to join me for dinner? Then maybe after I can give you a more... interactive show..."

You nod, still slightly in awe of what you've witnessed.

Jen laughed, and as the two of you make your way to the kitchen, you can't help but feel that this unexpected encounter has marked the beginning of a unique and exciting relationship with your neighbor.

For more quality content like this and extensive stories accompanying these images, NSFW content, and so much more please check out and support my Patreon where new uploads are posted almost EVERY DAY! I guarantee you will like what you find at www.patreon.com/SF447Expansions! 😊

[alea-says]

Season 4, episode 7 thoughts...

I'm sorry - did Steve really just open the door to a baby with a sign saying 'it's a girl! Congratulations!'???

Cos I've read that fic before!

Okay. Mary teasing him is just the kind of sibling thing. Yes. That's beautiful.

Also, please tell I'm gonna get Steve holding that baby.

Danny: Okay, the way i see it. Mary didn't adopt that baby, you did.

How is this real? Danny is like, your kid now, Steve, because we can't send her back to the orphanage... so obv the answer is she's now Steve's kid.

And now Mary is sick.

Yes! Steve has the baby!

Also, Danny's laughter is wonderful.

Oh, poor Chin.

At least Steve's not taking the baby with them on the investigation.

And now they're at the zoo.

And now Steve's holding the baby! Oh and he's smiling. This is beautiful

Danny has to interrupt and check Steve's paying attention (obviously either he needs to know he still some if Steve's attention or, like me, he's enjoying the sight of Steve with a baby for too much)

And now Steve is giving the baby to Danny!!!

Oh, Steve, you are trying not to have to change a diaper or admit you don't know how.

Steve and Danny discussing the care of the baby 😍

What?!

Danny is telling baby Joan a story!! 😍😍😍

About a handsome prince. And a mean ogre. Oh dear. Danny is totally telling her about him and Steve.

And his car.

Danny holding the baby. 😍

Steve: You know what, if you're gonna hold the baby in the sun, okay, just ask me and I'll put a sun hat on her.

(Which he proceeds to do while Danny is still holding the baby)

Okay, but Steve took the baby with him and now he's at the zoo with no baby. Where is she?

(Also, just gotta say - the person leaking info is gonna be the transcriber, not Kennedy. He's too obvious.)

And now Danny. Like me, wants to check up on Joan. Reminding Steve to give her her bottle.

Danny: you're texting Max right now, aren't you

Steve: no. I'm not. *as he's texting max*

Danny: you're a terrible liar

Yes! I was right about the transcriber.

But also, how dare she?

And they give the baby back to Mary.

Mary (to Steve): Oh admit it, you had a little bit of fun. I just saw you.

Danny: I definitely had a lot of fun.

Me too, Danny, me too.

[hom3land3r]

Rules/Guidelines

Alright, listen.

I like to have a chill and relaxed vibe when writing. I want it to be fun for both myself and those I write with, otherwise what's the point? I'm by no means a strict roleplayer. I give most folk a shot, whether they want to interact with a canon or OC. Hell, I even encourage any and all - roleplayer or not - to interact with Homie. I love it (he will never admit that he loves the attention as well but we all know that's obvious).

I've had this account for over a year now and have been fortunate to get a pleasant experience 98% of the time. I can't complain, in all honesty. But... and there is a but coming (sadly not Homie's this time round)

But

I just want to clarify a few things for those that are new to writing with me or come across this blog and are interested in writing. These are a mixture of my preferences as well as what I figure is just common sense, but I'll list them anyways.

Reply speeds: I feel this is pretty much self explanatory. I work as well as enjoy doing other things besides writing. This will mean that I'm not always quick to reply. Just as I never hold a grudge against anyone I write with taking their sweet ass time, I kindly ask that you give me the same courtesy. Sometimes I sit down to get replies done and get distracted or fall asleep (those that know me can attest to this). But the way I work is that I prepare replies and queue them to post throughout the week. So if you haven't had a response, chances are that it's in transit and will be with you in 3-5 working days. I got you, alright? Also, there will be times when I'm online reblogging and not replying to things, or answering asks instead. And sometimes I only interact with the same person while online. Please don't take any of it personally. I reply when I want to and have the energy to. I will also prioritize replies for those that I've been writing with for a long time. I appreciate your patience, however if you grow impatient on waiting, I get it. I always say right off the bat that I'm not the quickest in replying. So, you are warned beforehand.

No outside interactions on closed threads: Now, again I feel this is common sense. But, I would like to kindly ask if Homie is part of a thread that is clearly either with one other person or a group, please do not reblog and interact. I'm fine with comments if you're enjoying reading the thread and want to show some love, but don't reblog joining in without asking. I'm perfectly fine with group threads (threads involving 3 or more), but the people who are to interact will be mentioned. If outsiders reblog and attempt interaction who are not part of the thread, it will be ignored. Continuous attempts will get you blocked.

Godmodding: I cannot stress enough how annoying this is. I don't even godmod with Homie, so I don't expect your character to either. Canon or OC. If you attempt to godmod, your interactions will be ignored. It's no fun for anyone if you aren't playing along. Saying that Homie is unable to cause any harm to your character is just pointless. Like, okay, so what now? You want Homie to sit and have tea with your character? Braid each other's hair? C'mon now.

Silly/Gross asks: Look, there's tons I can put up with and have patience for. I know who I'm writing here. It takes a lot to disgust me. Asks are fun, I really enjoy them. But if your ask is just straight up stupid or clearly some fettish you're trying to push on me/Homie, it's going to just get deleted. Repeatedly sending them won't get you a reply, but more than likely a block. So, proceed with caution.

Fuck, this went on wayyyy too long. I can't think of anything else to add at the moment, but I'll be updating this if that changes. Apologies if this seems like I'm on my high horse with this, but considering I haven't actually physically set out any rules for the entire time this blog has existed, I thought it was well overdue.

Nagging over, you'll all be pleased to read. And if you have read this far, here. Have a treat.

~ Mun 💙🇺🇸