#reminding her exactly why she hates it here. exactly why she left. exactly why it's been decades since she visited | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coryndoll · 2 months ago

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waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: swearing, pretty safe !! lowkey i rushed thru im sorry LMAO

authors note: okay ik im a little late with an update and its kind of shorter but i wanted to get out a part asap. im rewatching the 100 rn and ugh. anyway if u arent part of the tag list yet, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

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you sit at the small table across from rafe, your fork hovering above your plate, but your attention keeps drifting toward the large window facing the street. you can’t help it. john b and jj were out there earlier, just hanging around.

it didn’t seem like they would come in, but you still feel uneasy. your eyes flicker to the entrance every few minutes, waiting for them to either walk in or disappear.

“stop glancin’ at the damn window, y/n, i can . . . feel your worry from here," rafe mutters, his voice low and rough, but there’s a hint of something softer there. he doesn’t even look up from his plate, just keeps cutting into his food like it’s nothing, but his words hit you harder than they should.

you blink a few times, then drop your gaze to your plate, the food suddenly less appetizing. it’s not like you can explain it to him—that you’re afraid of seeing john b or jj or that they might somehow sense that you’re not the same y/n they used to know. you’re not sure they’d even care, but the thought of facing them right now, of fumbling through some conversation, makes your stomach twist.

still, you force yourself to eat, to appear normal, though the tension buzzing between your shoulders doesn’t fade.

when you and rafe finally step out of the cafe, your eyes immediately search the street for the van. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you see that it’s gone. maybe they left. maybe they figured it wasn’t worth it. either way, relief washes over you, but it’s fleeting. you get into the car quickly, a little too quickly, as if you’re still afraid they might show up.

rafe slides in beside you, his movements slower, more casual, and turns the key in the ignition. the engine roars to life, but the radio stays off, just like it was earlier.

the drive home is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the car as it rolls down the streets. you stare out the window, trying to keep your mind from spiraling, but the silence feels suffocating. eventually, you speak, your voice hesitant, unsure, “remind me why ward and rose hate me again?”

you regret the question the moment it leaves your mouth. you should know why. y/n would know exactly what’s going on between her and rafe’s parents. but you’re not her, and you need answers.

you hold your breath, waiting for his response, and in your peripheral, you see him furrow his brows, his hand on your thigh loosening like he’s pulling back, even just a little.

for a second, you think you’ve blown it, that he’s going to catch on, but then he speaks.

“they don’t hate you,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “they just . . . my dad thinks you’re in it for the money, remember? the cameron wealth. he just doesn’t trust you. and you know how rose is. she just agrees with him as long as she gets her allowance from ward cameron.” there’s a bitterness in his voice when he says his father’s name, like it’s coated in something darker. “seems a bit fucking hypocritical if you ask me.”

in it for the money? the words bounce around your head, disorienting you. you weren’t expecting that. your eyes drop to the dashboard, and you try to wrap your mind around what he’s saying, but it feels wrong. that’s what they think about her. not you. it’s hard to remind yourself of that, to separate yourself from the y/n everyone else knows.

at least, that’s what you think this is. that there was a version of you living in this world, the right version. but something must’ve been two nights ago and there was just . . . you don’t know. you can’t accept that this life is yours. you’ve never lived it.

you hesitate, then whisper, “do you . . . agree with them?”

the question hangs in the air between you, and for a second, you think he’s not going to answer. but then the car comes to a sudden stop as he pulls up in front of the house, slamming on the brakes harder than necessary. he turns toward you, eyes sharp, focused. there’s a pause, a heavy silence.

“no,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “i don’t. you know that.”

you look at him, trying to read his expression, trying to understand why he’s so sure. there’s something there in his eyes, something unspoken that makes your chest tighten. but you don’t push. instead, you just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

you step into the house and the door clicks shut behind you. the echo of your footsteps fades as you make your way upstairs, shoes dangling from your fingers by their backs.

when you reach rafe’s room, you drop the shoes in the closet with a soft thud and let yourself fall back onto the bed. the mattress bounces slightly under your weight, the cool sheets brushing against your skin as you settle in. you fish your phone out of your back pocket, unlocking it with a quick swipe.

a few notifications pop up on the screen—most of them unimportant, just the usual, but two names catch your eye. one from your mother, another two from jj.

your thumb hovers over jj’s messages first, curiosity or maybe just habit pushing you to open them: ‘ hey how u been? ’ followed by another message, ‘ saw u at driftwood lol ’

you grimace. please stop talking to me, you think, and you almost consider typing that out for him, but you just swipe the conversation away. it feels wrong, ignoring him, but it’s safer this way. at least for now.

you tap on your mom’s message, her name flashing up on the screen. it’s a simple ‘ hello? ’ sent after a previous message asking if you wanted to video call tonight. guilt tugs at you for not answering sooner, but you quickly type a response: ‘ i’ll be there ’

you drop the phone onto your chest and close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your body.

rafe comes into the room just a minute after, dragging his feet as he enters, and flops down on the bed beside you with a heavy sigh. he’s on his back, his arms thrown up to rub his eyes. the weight of the day is already too much, you can tell.

you roll onto your side to face him, watching the rise and fall of his chest for a second. he looks tired—more than tired—and for some reason, you feel this sudden pull to comfort him. maybe it’s because you’re realizing that you’re stuck here for longer than you ever imagined, or maybe it’s because, despite everything, there’s something grounding about feeling him next to you. something real.

you slide your hand over his stomach, feeling the firm muscle under his t-shirt, and trail your fingers up to his neck. his skin is warm, smooth.

he smells like fresh ocean air mixed with something expensive—sandalwood, maybe, and a hint of cedar. it’s clean, masculine, and comforting in its own strange way. your hand rests against the side of his face, and you lean in, pressing your cheek lightly to his shoulder, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize it. the scent of him feels like an anchor to this new world, even if you don’t fully belong in it.

rafe’s eyes flutter shut, his face softening under your touch, and after a quiet moment, he murmurs, "i love you."

the words catch you off guard. you blink, your heart skipping for a second as reality slams into you. you don’t really know him—at least not this version of him. not like that. and yet, you have to play the part, don’t you?

“i love you,” you mumble back, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, like they don’t belong to you. but even as they leave your lips, your mind is already spinning, thoughts racing faster than you can keep up.

a million things zip through your head at once—what if this is it? what if you never find a way home? what if you’re stuck here forever, living this life that doesn’t belong to you, loving a man who isn’t really yours?

it’s terrifying—the possibility that you might grow attached to this place, that you might actually start to like it. and then what? if you ever do go home, what happens? will you feel crushed by the weight of leaving it all behind? will you go insane, trying to navigate two lives, two versions of reality?

maybe you have nothing to worry about. maybe everything will work itself out.

but maybe you have everything to worry about.

you sit up slowly from the bed, careful not to disturb rafe as he drifts deeper into sleep. you slip away from him quietly, your feet making no sound as you pad across the room to his desk. sitting down, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the cool surface, and run your fingers through your hair. you’re tired—bone-tired—but sleep feels far away, unreachable. you need something, anything, to distract you.

your eyes open lazily, glancing at the surface of the desk. it's clean, organized, too neat, really, for someone like rafe. there’s not much on it aside from a few pieces of mail. you sift through them halfheartedly—most of it is boring stuff, some bank letters, a couple of magazines.

some are even addressed to you. they’re opened already, though, and there’s nothing of importance. not that you expected there to be.

pushing yourself up from the desk, you wander around the room. it’s yours too, right? or at least it feels that way, with how much space you apparently take up.

your fingers trail along the dresser, the faint creaking of the drawer breaking the silence as you pull it open. inside, neatly folded, are your clothes—well, her clothes. the y/n from this universe. it feels strange, surreal, knowing this other version of you needed extra room for her things. maybe she had more stuff and she just wanted more space.

your mind drifts back to what rafe said earlier. that ward and rose didn’t like you. didn’t trust you. they thought you were just after their money, like some kind of gold digger. you snort at the thought—it’s ironic, really. considering how ward and rafe were obsessed with finding literal treasure in the show. maybe everyone in this family, including her, were a little too focused on gold.

closing the drawer, you step toward the closet, opening it just as carefully. it’s split down the middle, half filled with rafe’s clothes, the other half with yours. the dresser must’ve just been for overflow.

you shake your head, closing it softly and moving back toward the bed, your gaze trailing toward your phone. it's sitting on the bed next to rafe, tempting you, but the thought of waking him just to grab it doesn’t feel worth it.

you sit down on the floor instead, crossing your legs and staring blankly at the room around you. bored. that’s all you are—bored and stuck.

your choices are limited. you can’t go downstairs and risk running into ward or rose, can’t hang out with anyone yet, and leaving for a drive without telling rafe seems . . . wrong. maybe this universe’s y/n felt the same way. maybe she felt isolated here, bored out of her mind. maybe she lost it at some point. maybe—

god, stop, you think to yourself, shaking your head.

you stare at the floor for a while, trying to focus on the wood grain beneath your fingers, but your gaze eventually drifts to something under the bed. boxes, mostly, a couple of old board games, but something else catches your attention. something wedged between two boxes.

curious, you lean down and reach for it, your fingers brushing against the cover of what looks like a journal. you pull it out, wiping a thin layer of dust from the top as you grimace. “gross,” you mutter under your breath. guess rafe doesn’t clean under the bed often.

lying down on your stomach, you run your hand along the outside of the journal. it’s worn but intact, the pages thick and sturdy under your fingertips. you never took rafe as the journaling type—he doesn’t seem like someone who would sit down and pour his thoughts onto paper. but here it is, in your hands. something personal. something that might give you a glimpse into his mind, this world, this version of him.

you hesitate for a moment, staring at the journal as your thumb traces the edge of it.

you open it, flipping past the first few pages with a lazy flick of your fingers. the familiar scent of old paper wafts up, and you wrinkle your nose at it. laying your head on your fist, you hold the journal open with one hand, skimming the neat, familiar handwriting.

it’s strange seeing rafe’s thoughts laid out like this—stranger still because you never imagined him as someone who would keep a journal at all.

but he does. and he’s detailed.

each page is filled top to bottom, crammed with his thoughts, feelings, and observations. day after day, entry after entry. it’s more than you expected, almost overwhelming in its depth. he didn’t just write about major events or things that stood out—no, he captured everything. the small details. the mundane moments. he seemed obsessed with recording every second of his life.

as you glance at the dates, your brows furrow. the entries are more recent than you thought they’d be. flipping back to the beginning of the journal, you see that it starts in early may. a sharp contrast to what you remember from your own life—your real life—where you had left in the middle of september. it’s jarring. maybe time works differently here.

and then, something else catches your attention: the handwriting.

it’s familiar. too familiar. not just because it’s rafe’s, but because there’s something about the way the letters curve, the way the words flow across the page.

you sit up a little straighter, squinting as you begin to properly read through the entries. your eyes scan the first entry dated may 12.

‘ 05/12

i don’t know why i’m even bothering to write this down. everyone says journaling is supposed to help or whatever, but all i feel is frustrated. it’s like everyone around me has it together, and i’m the one constantly getting in my own way. or maybe they’re the ones in my way. i don’t know. it’s hard to tell these days.

i’m trying, though. i think? i mean, isn’t this part of trying to get better? to work through my issues instead of ignoring them? i just don’t get why it feels like such a chore. i’ve spent so long pretending everything’s fine, so maybe that’s why this whole “self-reflection” thing is pissing me off. i’m not used to it. i’m not used to being told that i need to change, when i feel like i’ve been doing fine. they’re the ones who need to stop acting like i’m the problem. i’m not perfect, sure, but who is?

whatever. maybe i’m just overthinking it. i know i need to be better, but it’s hard when people keep pushing me into a corner, expecting me to react the same way i always have. i don’t want to be that person anymore, but it’s like, what’s the point of trying to change when no one’s even going to notice? or worse—they’re gonna keep treating me like i’m the same person no matter what i do.

i don’t know. this is stupid. but maybe it’ll help if i keep writing. or maybe not. we’ll see. ’

you blink at the page, your brow furrowing in confusion. why is rafe trying to change? change from what?

you try to shake off the unease and flip through the pages, skipping a few until you reach another entry. this one’s dated august 3rd.

‘ 08/03

i swear, sometimes i feel like no matter how hard i try, people just refuse to see it. today was fucking awful. jj and i got into it again, and i don’t even know how it got so bad so fast. i’ve been trying to be better. i’ve been trying to show up, to listen, to be the kind of friend everyone says i should be. but jj? he just doesn’t get it. he always wants to bring up the past, like i haven’t already said sorry a million times. like i haven’t tried to make up for everything. what more do they want from me?*

and the worst part is, he made me feel like i’m the bad guy. like i’m still the same selfish, narcissistic person from months ago. but i’m not. or at least, i’m trying not to be. but how am i supposed to change when people like him just won’t let me? he said i’ve been a bad friend. me? a bad friend? maybe i haven’t been perfect, but who has? i’m doing the best i can, and it’s not like everyone else is a saint. but no, it’s always me who gets the blame.

honestly, i think jj just made everything worse. i was starting to feel like i was making progress, and now? i don’t know. i feel like i’m back to square one. all i wanted was to fix things, to show i’ve changed, and instead i’m just stuck here, trying to explain myself to someone who clearly doesn’t care.

whatever. i’m done trying to explain myself. if people don’t want to see that i’m trying, then that’s their problem, not mine. ’

your heart races as you read the entry. wait . . . this is familiar. the mention of jj. hold on.

you flip through a smaller chunk of pages, eager to find the last written entry, and stop on september 17.

‘ 09/17

i’ve done everything i can. i’ve changed. i know i’ve changed, but no one else seems to think so. it’s like no matter what i do, i’m still the same person in their eyes. the selfish one, the one who only cares about herself. it’s not fair. i’ve been working so hard to be better, to be different. but every time i walk into a room, it’s like they’re waiting for me to mess up again. waiting for me to be the person they’ve decided i am.

i just wish they’d give me a break. i’m not that person anymore. or at least, i’m trying not to be. it’s exhausting, having to prove myself over and over again. i thought things would be different by now. i thought people would see that i’m not the same. but all i get are those looks. like i’ve done something unforgivable. like i’m still the villain in their story, no matter how hard i’ve tried to rewrite mine.

i don’t know what else to do. i’m tired of fighting for people to see me. maybe i’ll never be enough for them. maybe they’re just waiting for me to screw up again, to prove that i haven’t changed at all. but i have. i have changed. i know it.

god, i just wish i could do something big. something to show them all at once that i’m not who i used to be. i’m better now. i just don’t know how to make them believe it. ’

your blood runs cold as you read the last line. panic surges through you, and you glance around the room as if seeking an escape. you scan the pages, your eyes racing over the words, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

you were absolutely wrong. this isn’t rafe’s journal.

this is hers.

@v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @httpsdrewstarkey @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @cold-soup1223 @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @drewsephrry @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

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celesteleoves · 4 months ago

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Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

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prael · 2 months ago

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Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex.

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed.

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

#kinktember #kpop smut #youngeun smut #kepler smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #youngeun x reader #standandcarry #kep1er smut

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absurdthirst · 2 months ago

Text

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice.

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful.

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.”

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving.

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost.

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots.

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together.

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot.

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.”

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something.

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed.

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign.

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh.

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77.

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake.

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think.

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.”

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling.

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that.

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her.

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless.

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart.

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building.

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for.

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.”

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time.

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do.

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?”

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now.

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had.

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous.

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.”

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building.

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire.

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.”

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.”

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep.

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night.

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun.

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down.

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls.

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation.

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table.

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax.

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it.

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before.

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers.

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen.

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had.

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night.

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra.

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic.

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness.

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans.

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms.

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected.

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed.

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep.

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary.

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot.

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours.

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit.

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return.

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach.

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit.

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching.

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness.

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist.

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still.

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.”

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you.

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs.

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you.

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you.

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.”

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay.

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins.

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers.

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down.

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed.

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain.

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else.

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm.

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you.

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart.

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.”

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.”

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before.

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you.

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you.

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-”

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.”

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen.

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes.

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door.

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!”

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #sex pollen

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wileys-russo · 6 months ago

Note

Emily fox, “you’re quite intimidating you know”, night club/team night out

e.fox II intimidating

"why don't you just go and say hello, she doesn't bite!" lotte teased, nudging her friend who blushed red and elbowed her. "we've spoken before!" emily defended with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"yeah at training, 'i'm open on your left!' hardly counts as a conversation." alessia chimed in on her other side, the three tar heels squished together on a lounge chair, the entire team out for the night to bond before everyone was due to head away to portugal, captains orders.

"em, you've been here for two weeks man and you've said about ten words to the girl! i don't get it, she's lovely." lotte pushed again nodding in your direction where you were stood at the bar laughing at something kyra said, shoving her head away from you.

"why are you two being so bossy! there is an entire team for me to bond me." emily gestured around to the multitude of mostly blondes gathered around the little area they'd booked off for dinner and a few drinks.

"exactly, but there is only one forward that you keep avoiding like the plague." alessia grinned knowingly. "is that maybe because you think she's fit." lotte teased, poking at the brunette who huffed.

"no! we don't say fit anyway, thats so english." emily pulled a face and sipped on her drink. "i hate to remind that you now...live in england." lotte laughed with a shake of her head.

"sorry. do you just think she's so hot?" alessia chimed in again with a horrendous attempt at an american accent. "not the valley girl voice." emily sighed with a shake of her head.

"i don't even know her! you're both idiots." emily insisted finishing her drink. "well you clearly want to know her. you're always glancing at her, watching her from afar, blushing when she smiles at you. since when are you so shy around pretty girls foxy!" lotte grinned as the american buried her face in her hands.

"what is this? haze the new girl?" emily grunted with a roll of her eyes. "she's very single, you're very single. we're not telling you to get on one knee, but you can't avoid her all season." alessia laughed before a new look settled across her face.

"no less don't give me that, i know that look. thats your meddling look!" the american groaned, having seen it many times throughout their time at college together.

"me? meddle? i don't know what you mean." alessia gasped in mock offence, sliding away from them and standing to her feet. "less where are you going? less? less!" the american defender whisper shouted to the blonde who pointed to her empty glass and pouted, but headed right over to you.

"next rounds on you less? thats so kind!" kyra cheered in greeting, slinging an arm around the blonde as you chuckled at your national teammate. "kyra stop being a pest for thirty seconds would you? shoo!" you gestured with your hands as the younger girl scowled and flipped you off but slunk away to find someone else to annoy.

"what are you drinking?" alessia smiled, bumping her shoulder into yours and nodding down to the lack of a drink in your hand. "water." you winked in return as the blonde pulled a face.

"boring! tomorrow is a day off. i thought australians knew how to drink?" alessia teased, waving over the bartender and respecting your wishes none the less.

"this ones emily's. i'm dying for the toilet, can you take it over to her for me?" alessia asked nodding down to the other drink she'd ordered, basically running away before you could even say something.

"typical." you sighed, dodging kyra who tried to steal the other drink and making a beeline for your newest teammate. "hey i need to speak to leah about something, be right back." lotte interrupted her friend mid conversation, emily frowning at the sudden way she stood and hurried off.

"hey!" but her face paled and eyes widened as you smiled down at her, offering her the other drink in your hand. "less got it for you, ditched me with it at the bar though." you rolled your eyes playfully and raised an eyebrow when the american didn't make a move.

"its not poisoned, you can drink it." you teased, but the friendly demeanor faded as emily tried desperately to make her brain and mouth match up, only able to open and close it wordlessly.

"okay...i'll just leave this here for you then." you frowned, slowly placing it on the table in front of her with a smile that this time didn't meet your eyes as you turned to leave.

"no wait! please sit." emily finally found her words as you hesitated for a second and she slid over slightly, gesturing to the space beside her. though as you sat down and she grabbed the drink with a quiet thank you, the uncomfortable silence returned.

"you know i think those four words are the most i've heard you speak. i thought americans were supposed to have big personalities?" you tried again with a slight teasing tone, leaving the space open for if she'd jump in.

"well i thought australians were known for drinking!" emily tried with an awkward smile as you shook your head. "why does everyone think that? there is more depth to us than that!" you laughed, sipping on your water.

"well you're quite intimidating you know." emily admitted as you looked at her in a mix of surprise and shock. "me? like you're one to talk you avoid me like i have a disease!" you laughed as the brunette look confused.

"i don't! i promise. or i didn't mean to if it seems i have been." emily sighed apologetically. "i thought you may have been avoiding me after the last time we played the US, that tackle." you winced at the memory, given a yellow card for the way you'd accidentally swept her legs out after she'd gotten rid of the ball.

"that? oh i was ready to kill you...months ago. i hadn't even given it a thought since then, well until now." emily assured with a smile that you returned, seemingly relaxed a little more at her words.

"i'm just...awkward? and you seem to have everyone and everything figured out, i've not heard anyone say a bad word about you." emily revealed as your smile softened. "you don't seem awkward. and i've had a couple of years to find my feet, you'll do the same too!" you bumped your shoulder into hers gently.

"okay i'll tell you a secret." you placed your water down on the table and turned to face her a little more. "i'm not drinking because i'm taking my driving test tomorrow and i've already failed it three times, last thing i need is a hangover." you groaned quietly, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

there was a pause of silence and you wondered if you'd said the wrong thing until finally as you were about to stand up there was a break through.

"stop laughing at me it isn't funny! i told you that in confidence." you huffed glaring at her as she clutched her stomach. "how did you fail it three times? i've been here a month and i passed first try!" emily shook her head in disbelief.

"i can't parallel park." you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing and crossing your arms as you huffed. "what? its easy!" emily laughed again as you sighed. "i just get all the angles wrong and i panic and well the last time i clipped the car in front." you blushed bright red, something emily had to admit was an adorable sight.

"no way." "way, its tragic."

"hey kyra! thirsty?" you frowned in confusion as emily called over the younger girl, handing over the drink she'd barely touched as the midfielder snatched it with a beaming grin and a thank you.

"what did you do that for? you know she won't buy you one in return, she's a massive scab." you rolled your eyes knowing the girl all too well, owed many a drink you know you'd never see.

"what are you doing on your day off tomorrow?" emily questioned ignoring the one you'd asked her as you shrugged. "groceries, sleeping in-" you started to list off the errands on your list as the american shook her head.

"wrong. we're going to get up early and get a coffee, maybe some breakfast, then i'm teaching you how to parallel park before your test." emily responded confidently, waving off your attempts to say no.

"okay, its a date." you eventually gave in with a grin, noticing the slight change in her facial features and the way her eyes widened. "oh i'm so sorry i don't mean like-" you hurried to back track but the american held up a hand, catching alessia's eye over your shoulder.

"yeah, it is a date."

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #emily fox x reader #emily fox #woso imagine #woso blurbs #arsenal wfc #awfc

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blushweddinggowns · 9 months ago

Text

“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”

Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”

That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”

They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old.

Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.

Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?”

Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her, “Don't be mean.”

“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”

That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?

Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”

Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand.

“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled.

“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”

He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend.

Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”

Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”

“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”

Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”

Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”

“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”

It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”

“See!”

Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”

Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”

“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”

Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”

Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”

Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”

Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”

“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”

Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”

Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo.

But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”

It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”

And what did Eddie just call him?

Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”

Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”

Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down.

Angel.

Oh.

OH.

“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.

She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time.

Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-

“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”

Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”

They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.

She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”

Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”

“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare.

“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts.

Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”

“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”

Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”

from the next chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #buckingham fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steddie childhood friends au #the universe trapped in your skin #preview #im trying y'all #queued

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 months ago

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I’m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. ��With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,” you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

310 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 30 days ago

Text

looking through your eyes + twenty three

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

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and violence

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

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

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

“We could just not open the door.”

“Roman.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dulce?”

“Tolerable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“debatable.”

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

“—do you not know who I am?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Muchas gracias, papi.”

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

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

And he knows that papi…..is ‘daddy’.

Solana just called him daddy.

Fuck.

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

He has to take a minute to compose himself.

This woman will easily be the end of him.

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

————

“Mrs. Reigns.”

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

“Melina!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

Jey’s voice.

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

“He’s being a dick!”

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

“I don’t want a stinkin' bow!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From family.

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

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

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

“Josiah Fatu!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whassup, my dawgs!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimmy!”

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

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

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

“Solo is bringing his sons too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Suck my dick, Escobar!”

“Abuelita, please!”

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

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

“Bayley?”

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

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

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

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

“I didn—”

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

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

And sad.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

And it’s beyond exciting to her.

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

Abuelita is placed in the house in the living room where she’s left to watch The Price is Right reruns after being upset at the lack of available substances outside of alcohol.

“What the fuck kind of Mafia boss doesn’t have any drugs in his house?”

It’s an especially fun time with the music, a combination of Rap, R&B, with, of course, Spanish music. The last of those creating many fun memories of Solana, Bayley, Melina and even Juanita sharing some classic Spanish dances with the other attendees.

Though there does reach a point where Roman not so subtly pulls Solana away from dancing, whispering something in her ear that’s far too NSFW with all the children present regarding her tempting him.

She stays by his side for a little bit after that, noticing how he really only interacts with herself, the twins, and the Wise Man.

That’s it.

Solana is starting to wonder if he really does hate people as much as he says he does.

A random little thing she does find kind of…..cute almost is the interaction between Nia and Bautista. There….there could be something there.

It’s not nearly as hilarious though as the interaction between the twins, Montez, and Trick. Trick and Jey somehow creating a new combination of ‘Yeet’ and ‘Whoop that Trick.’

Roman, as expected, is the only one not amused.

He actually looks like he’s in some form of physical pain.

The real challenge, however, is finding an activity that’s both appropriate and enjoyable for adults and children, especially with such a mixed group of people. Naturally, Uno is the first thing brought up, but logistically, that doesn’t work out for lack of enough cards for everyone. It’s also something that, according to Naomi and Bayley, would end up in probable murder given the competitiveness of the men. Bloodline and not.

A couple of additional ideas are thrown out before the vast majority settles on a simple, easy game of red light, green light.

At least….it was supposed to be easy.

“Damnit!” Bayley cusses as she and Jade are the next set of players to fail to make it to the next round. Jade rolls her eyes and mumbles something incoherent as she flips off Trick who makes a smart comment as she moves back by his side, taking her wine cooler from him.

Bayley comes near Solana who sits on Roman’s lap after having been eliminated in the last round. Of course, Roman opted to not participate, much rather keeping his eyes and focus on Jey’s kids who were also eliminated earlier on.

Especially a smiling Jayla as she sits there counting a surprising amount of money for a young child.

Huh.

Solana wonders where she got it from.

Bayley shakes her head, downing some more of her coca cola. Like Solana, she’s remained sober thus far. “Shit is hard.”

“Not really,” Roman comments without much consideration as he takes a sip of his beer. Solana doesn’t know what to make of the fact that the stressors of the party thus far have driven her husband to drink. Her husband who rarely ever drinks.

She’s most definitely going to have to make this up to him, though she has a good mind that he’s well ahead of her with that.

Bayley scoffs. “Whatever, Reigns.”

Solana subtly moves her hand on top of Roman’s free hand that’s placed on her stomach, his arm wrapped almost protectively around her.

She starts to lean into his strong chest but ultimately decides against it, mindful of the image. Cognizant of the fact that their current position simply looks like the possessive Tribal Chief making known what belongs to him. A necessity given not everyone present is privy to the fact the marriage between the two of them is so much more than a business transaction, an arrangement common to their world.

It’s real.

As real as their feelings and love for each other.

“Red light!” Sami calls out. As a self proclaimed ‘master strategist,’ he was easily voted as the one to judge who does and does not make it to the next round. He starts listing off the names of people who moved afterwards. Two of Solo’s sons, Cam, Montez, Carmelo, and Jey.

The almost drunk latter of which is not pleased by.

At all.

Jey sucks his teeth. “Whatchu’ mean I’m out?” Deep scowl on his face, he argues. “I didn’t even move.”

A group of disagreement sounds, including Roman who says so matter-of-factly, “you moved, Jey.”

“Uce, listen, it’s all good. Maybe in the next game—”

“I said I didn’t move!” Jey snaps, cutting off Sami’s attempt at normalizing his elimination. “Now, let’s keep going.”

Sami walks over and almost nervously runs his hand through his unruly hair. “Jey, man, you—you got eliminated—”

“Imma eliminate your ass if you don’t get the fuck away from me!” Jey’s growing aggressiveness seems to capture the focus of the attendees, current and former players alike. “I don’t know why you’re even here!”

Sami’s eyes go wide as he gestures to himself. “Me? I—” He points toward Solana who has a small frown on her face, seeing where this is headed. “Soso—”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say, a visibly inebriated Jey snapping yet again, “aye, you don’t call her that! She not your family, motherfucker!.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes, calling out as he prepares yet another plate of food. “Fool, would you calm your ass down.”

“Naw, cause I’m sick of this shit. Sick of him acting like he one of us!”

“Hey, I’m just as much Bloodline as you, Uce!”

Jey shoves Sami, forcing the other man to the ground. “Call me that one more time, and Imma lay your homeless looking ass out!”

Roman’s heavy sigh comes from underneath Solana as he lightly taps her stomach, prompting her to get up so he can stand. She does so, watching him roll his big shoulders and walk over to the now arguing men, deep voice declaring, “enough!”

At that, not a single watchful eye isn’t on Roman. The Tribal Chief. “I’m sick of this shit with the both of ya’ll. You want to act like kids? Then I’m gon’ treat you like kids.” Solana swallows. Everything about her husband is so commanding and powerful. From the way he stands, to the way he speaks, even his presence. One knows who he is without even needing to really know who he is. “I don’t believe in airing shit out in public. I believe in handling it like men or in the ring, but since you two can’t seem to do that, I want you to lay it all out because I want this problem fixed. Right now.” Roman ends his speech with an almost growl, the Wise Man rushing over as Roman turns away, his back toward Jey and Sami, head down, hands clasped together.

Power.

A wide eyed Paul looks between the other men, “the—the Tribal Chief said—”

“Of course,” Sami cuts him off, standing again and looking down a bit as he seems to struggle with how to start. “Well, uhh, okay, umm.” Solana briefly surveys the backyard. From the youngest to the oldest, all eyes are on the scene before her. “I’ll be the first to admit, there’s been a bit of a communication breakdown as of late, and it’s been pretty specifically with Jey, but I gotta be honest, I don’t understand exactly what’s going on here.” Solana neither. She just suddenly remembers it was Jey and Sami who got into it during WarGames all those months ago and still haven’t seemed to hash it out. “I–I like you. Man, I like you. I’ve always liked you. But, it seems ever since I joined the Bloodline, I don’t know what it is, but it seems you can’t seem to stand me, and I don’t understand it.” He motions to Jimmy who’s eating. “Jimmy seems fine.” He points out to each man that he begins to list. “Solo seems fine. The Tribal Chief seems fine. The Wise Man seems….not fine, but that’s okay. Everyone, for the most part, seems fine except you, and I don’t know what I did to offend you. I really don’t. But, whatever I did to offend you, but whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t want this to keep going on like this anymore.” He steps closer to Jey. “Seriously, I’m sorry. Whatever I did. I’m sorry. So, can we just be cool? Can we bury the hatchet once and for all?” Sami now has his hand extended to Jey. A peace offering, of sorts.

Solana finds herself waiting with a withheld breath, Bayley beside her, watching just as keenly as she is.

It’s a good minute before Jey speaks. “Sami, you got about two seconds to get that out my face.” There’s a chorus of hushed reactions around the yard, Solana sighing heavily. So much for peace. “I don’t like you.” That much, to anyone with good eyes, is painfully obvious. “I don’t like your hair. I don’t like your face. I don’t like that shirt you wearing.” Solana can admit she found the black shirt with ‘the honorary uce’ written in red letters a bit….much. “Hey, hey! I don’t like you being around my family every single week. My dawg this, My dawg that.” Jey mocks, anger rising in his tone and body language. “How you think you part of the Bloodline, and you ain’t blood!” Solana swallows, redirecting her attention to Roman who has his eyes closed. She can see it. His own wrath growing at his clear directions not being followed. This problem is far from moving in the direction of fixing. “Newsflash for you, Sami. You never will be, Uce. You don’t belong here.” Solana looks back over at Sami, feeling bad for him. To be talked to like this in front of everyone has to be embarrassing. It also makes her feel personally responsible, to some extent.

She maybe shouldn’t have invited him. Especially if she knew how tense things were between him and Jey.

“Don’t nobody in this group like you. I’m just the realest one to say it out loud. You’s a fake ass, Uce.” Damn. “You know what the difference between you and me is? I shed blood for every single one of my family members here, because it’s my family! Not yours!” Silence. “Would you do it? Huh? Would you? I’m asking you a question! Would you—”

‘Why are you yelling at me, huh?” Sami finally cuts in, raising his voice a little as well. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m trying to make peace!” He’s outright shouting at this point, face turning red from his own escalating anger. He then points to Roman. “The Tribal Chief said he wants peace!”

“Man, I don’t give a damn what the Tribal Chief say!”

Solana can’t look at Roman fast enough. Her eyes widening in alarm as his head shoots up, his expression something both shocked and cold. Solana doesn’t rip her gaze from him, seeing how he slowly turns his head and then his body in the direction of Jey, who doesn’t look nearly as terrified as everyone else seems right now.

She’s almost certain she hears Montez mumble something about, “oh, that nigga dead now for sure.” Trick murmuring back, "rip to the homie. yeet for life."

Roman’s fury is palpable, felt and stretched across the spacious backyard. He’ livid. Naturally, she moves to go by him, to try to calm him down. Irritation is one thing, like his annoyance with the party. But, this is something different. Deeper. Heavier.

She doesn’t like seeing him this upset. It worries her for his blood pressure.

However, Bayley suddenly reaches for her, stopping her, subtly shaking her head. Solana starts to pull away when it hits her.

She can’t interfere.

Because if Roman were to back or even calm down because of her, it would reveal the influence she has on him. It would expose some depth of his feelings for her, and that can’t happen. For a variety of reasons. So, she remains where she is, despite the coiling in her stomach.

She lets the Tribal Chief do what needs to be done.

Sami, surprisingly, is the one to try to interfere as Roman steps closer and closer to Jey, big shoulders squaring, fist forming at his side. “Hey, uhh, My Tribal Chief, Jey didn’t—he didn’t mean that. He just—” Sami is silenced by Roman shoving him nearly across the damn yard, the man tumbling to his bottom looking even more flustered.

But, the focus isn’t on him for long, because before Solana can even process what’s happening, Roman is on Jey. Tackled to the ground, Jey is suddenly under the onslaught of Roman’s heavy fist raining blow on top of blow onto him.

Solana is momentarily taken off guard, briefly in a state of shock, both at what’s unfolding before her but also the lack of anyone trying to intervene. Even Jimmy. Even Jey’s kids who Naomi tries to herd and steer from seeing their father being so brutally beaten.

She doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or how to respond. A part of her wants to call out for her husband, try to pull him from his fit of rage, but it’s when she thinks about it, really thinks about, she knows she can’t.

She could, but it would only make things worse.

Solana hates this for Jey, hates this for her husband, hates this for both of them.

But……she also knows that Jey messed up. Really messed up. To say something so disrespectful is one thing, but to say it so loudly and boldly in front of a group of people is an entirely different ballpark.

Jey publicly disrespected Roman. Disrespected his Tribal Chief in front of people, thus Roman has to address it properly.

And violently.

Jey’s coughing up blood as Roman stomps on his ribs. She has to turn her head, to look away. This is the side of Roman she knows exists but would rather never see. The same way she knows he would prefer she never see either.

“Acknowledge me!” His furious voice travels through the yard and penetrates everyone’s five senses. It also makes Solana realize he’s been saying as such for the past few minutes. Demanding it. “Now!”

Jey is beaten pretty badly, blood spilling from his nose and seeped in between his teeth as he opens his mouth. It’s an ugly thing. All of it. And Solana notices the slight snarl of his lip before he forces out, “I—I acknowledge you—” he coughs up a mixture of phlegm and blood. “My Tribal Chief.”

Roman’s heaving, hulking figure straightens, his hair now down, having come out of his bun. The next thing to come out of his mouth sending chills down her spine. “If you ever disrespect me like that again, I’ll kill you.”

Solana doesn’t want to believe he’s being honest. That he’s telling the truth. She’d prefer to believe that he’s putting on a show of sorts, because he has to. Because he has to show his dominance. But, there’s a part of her that knows he’s not lying.

He means that.

Roman doesn’t look her way as he announces to the crowd, “party’s over!” She wants to be surprised at that, but she’s not. Maybe a bit disappointed. But, not surprised. “Everyone get the hell out of my house!”

He keeps his focus on the house and motions for the Wise Man to follow him as he stomps out, again without sparing her a single look.

Roman only needs to speak once, Solana seeing the people starting to throw their trash away as they clearly prepare to depart.

“This is my fault,” Solana finally speaks, turning to Bayley. Shaking her head, eyes watering, she shares, “I should have never—”

“Solana, it wasn’t your fault.” Bayley places her hands on Solana’s shoulders, explaining. “Jey….Jey should have known better than to say some dumb shit like that. I thought they were past all that.”

At that, Solana frowns, catching out the corner of her eye as Naomi and Jimmy tend to Jey. “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, like when they were in their twenties, Jey and Roman hit some sort of rough patch. I don’t know all the details, just what Naomi told me. But, I guess Jey was being difficult and almost testing Roman, in private and in front of other Bloodline members. It got to the point where Jey even challenged Roman for the title as Tribal Chief.”

Solana gasps. That’s the last thing she expected to hear. Even more surprising than the brutal beatdown she just witnessed. “What?”

Bayley nodded. “It was an in-ring fight, something to do with their Samoan traditions. Obviously, Roman won, and Jey officially acknowledged him. They’ve been fine since then, so I don’t know where that came from or what inspired it, probably the alcohol, but….just know it wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure Roman hated he had to do that in front of you, but he couldn’t just let Jey disrespect him like that.” And then, clearly wanting Solana to understand that Jey actually got off easy, she adds, “if he wasn’t family, Roman would have killed him. He wouldn’t have had a choice.”

And if that was the alternative, Solana is filled with an overwhelming amount of appreciation for what just transpired.

The lesser of two evils.

“This was exciting!” Abuelita’s enthusiastic tone sounds from beside them, Solana seeing her accompanied by Juanita and Bernardo. “That husband of yours is a beast.” It’s said in an almost complimentary tone.

Bayley rolls her eyes. “Abuelita, please.” She shakes her head, asking Solana, “do you want me to stay behind and help you clean up?”

She thinks about it for a moment, remembering that Roman already arranged to have a cleaning crew handle outside. Inside is relatively easy to tackle. Definitely something she can handle on her own. “No. That’s okay…..I’ve got it.”

Bayley nods and reminds Solana to call her if she needs anything, the Tribal Chief's wife bidding farewell to some of the other attendees before briefly bringing her attention back to Jey.

Solana happens to catch Solo saying something to Jey, prompting the latter to shove his little brother. Jimmy jumps in, ushering Jey away while Solo smirks.

She’s curious about whatever it is that Solo said, but she’s mostly focused on Jey. For someone who was objectively in the wrong, he doesn’t look remorseful or contrite.

He looks angry.

————

It’s after everyone has left that Solana seeks out her husband. An intentional thing because she also wants to grant him some space to calm himself down.

He’s in the bathroom, in the shower, based upon the sound of the running water.

A glance at Dulce who’s sleeping peacefully in her bed, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue what drives her to go for the hem of her dress as she pulls it up and over her head. It falls to the floor as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, also allowing it to fall to the floor. And finally, with a deep breath, she slides her underwear down her legs, letting them join the rest of her clothes.

Stepping out of her shoes, she moves in the direction of the bathroom door, completely ignoring all sudden insecurity regarding her nakedness. Solana closes her eyes and swallows as she carefully opens the door, walking in, eyes shifting to the shower.

As expected, he’s standing there under the running water, back toward her, hands braced against the wall, head dropped.

Solana frowns. She can practically feel his distress.

Closing the door behind her, Solana is intentional about her footsteps, doing her best not to catch his attention. Something that’s highly unlikely but exactly what happens. Even as she steps into the spacious shower, water instantly drenching her just as much as it soaks him due to the several showerheads.

She’s nearly inches away when he turns around, harsh expression instantly melting into something of shock and confusion. Her lips go dry as his gaze briefly drops to her naked body, water droplets rolling off her heavy breast and down the slope of her pudgy belly.

“Solana….” His eyes shut as she moves toward him. Her hands rest on his chest, as she chews on her bottom lip. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, shaking her head as the water continues to soak her hair, weighing it down just as much as his. “You don’t—it’s okay.”

Eyes opening, his expression is as pained as his voice. “I don’t like you seeing that side of me….”

She knows. Knows that he’s always tried to be mindful of his temper around her, tried to always and only show her the caring side reserved just for her. But, that’s just it. “There’s no side of you that I don’t love, Roman.”

Because it’s the truth.

Because if there’s one thing that Solana has learned, especially after meeting and speaking with Fetu, it’s that Roman never stood a chance. From a young child, he was groomed and tailored into the killer he is now. He wasn’t given the space and freedom to ever be anything but the best and to be unfeeling. She’s happy that with her, he has some escape, but she also knows that majority of the time, he can’t be that.

He has to be the Head of the Table.

And that’s exactly who he was in this situation.

Who he had to be.

The Tribal Chief.

“I’m not scared of you, Roman…” She murmurs, wondering if that’s part of the concern. She moves her hands to his cheek, stressing, “I could never be scared of you.”

He seems relieved by that. But, still torn. Solana’s stomach coils a bit as he moves his hands to her waist and pulls her against him. Her eyes shut feeling his impressive length, even in a flaccid state, against her stomach.

It gives her an idea.

Dropping one hand and venturing it down his chiseled, wet body, Solana shoves away her nerves as she touches him, wraps her fingers around him as best she can given his girth.

Roman hisses, eyes closing again. “Solana….”

He’s so good to her, always so good to her. She just wants to return the favor. Wants to take away some of his burdens the same way he never hesitates to take away hers.

Gradually sliding her hand down his dick, feeling his grip on her hips tightening—as well as the hardening in her hand—she licks her lips and murmurs a simple request.

“Show me how to please you……”

————

After their lovemaking in the shower, Solana manages to encourage Roman to take a nap, recognizing his exhaustion from the day’s events. Something he only agrees to because she agrees to nap with him. Not that much of a sacrifice considering she’s probably just as exhausted as him.

And it’s clearly much needed sleep for her husband who doesn’t even stir when she moves to take Dulce outside to pee.

It just so happens that Solana is about to ascend the staircase, Dulce ahead of her and already heading back to the room courtesy of Jimmy teaching her how to go up and down the steps, that she hears the doorbell. She pauses on the first step, quickly and mentally going over who could be ringing their doorbell at almost 10pm at night.

She starts to ignore it, not sure if it’s a good idea to open it, but Solana also remembers the gate. The secured gate as well as security that constantly patrols the premises. No one who Roman wouldn’t want getting past, for safety reasons, would be ringing their doorbell.

Especially this late.

It’s why she eventually settles on closing her up the front of her robe and walking over to the door, opening it. And when she does, she’s instantly wondering if it was a good idea. Two men. Both tall. Very tall. Built. One moderately more built than the other. Both their complexions are tanned, but the man with the bald head wearing expensive looking glasses and half a sleeve that peeks through his short sleeve polo is a brick.

Solana has always thought Roman to be muscular, but this man could give her husband a run for his money.

It’s the other man though, long hair pulled back in a slightly messy bun. Similar to how Roman keeps his hair. It’s as he lifts his sunglasses from off his face and sets it atop of his head that she sees something so familiar.

Eerily familiar.

“Hi.” She finally finds her voice, clearing her throat as she asks, “can I help you with something?”

“We’re looking for Roman.” The familiar looking one speaks with a slightly thick accent as he asks with a small smirk. “Is he home?”

Solana’s not sure where it comes from, but something almost protective fills her as her grip on the door tightens just a bit. “What—what do you want with my husband?”

The slightly taller one smiles “Solana.” He lazily rakes his eyes over her in a way that’s not objectively problematic but makes her shift her weight from one leg to the other. “Of course.” She’s not sure how to feel about him knowing who she is, but it’s a short lived concern, because not even a full minute later, a welcome familiarity appears.

“Sol.” Roman’s deep voice calls her attention, startling her. She turns around to see him only a few steps above the ground, shirtless, wearing only dark joggers. Slowly, he steps down to the floor and she naturally moves beside him. Solana holds onto his arm as he focuses his attention on the two men. His face shifts into something of surprise. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

The one who identified her by name chuckles. “Good to see you too, cousin.”

Solana frowns.

Cousin?

“Solana.” He looks down for a second, gesturing to the other two. “These are my….my cousins. Dwayne and Matteo.”

There’s a brief look of something in Matteo’s face, something that’s pushed away as he offers an almost charismatic smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Solana.” His eyes twinkle almost as he asks. “Solana….that’s Spanish, right? Sunshine?”

Her smile is a bit less reluctant to appear. He seems so…..pleasant. “It is. Do you speak it?”

“I do. One of the languages I picked up in my younger years. A beautiful language.”

She’s taken back by him speaking to her in Spanish but naturally, she responds in the same language. “Yes, it is. You speak it well.”

“Well, thank you. I take it you are native?”

She nods. “My mom was Mexican. She taught me.”

“What the fuck are you saying to her?” Roman cuts in, irritation present in his deep voice. “Speak English.” She keeps herself from rolling her eyes. A playful thing in intention but something that could be perceived as disrespectful, she’s certain. “Answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Solana is also partially curious what could have apparent cousins at their front door at such an hour. Something tells her it’s nothing good.

“We need to talk.” Dwayne answers, smile wiped from his face, tone solid and firm.

Solana looks up when she feels Roman tap her hip. Voice dipping a bit in volume, he instructs, “go upstairs.”

She’s not sure why, but there’s a level of anxiety that forms following his instruction. It makes sense. He clearly needs to talk business, and that’s something she doesn’t need to be present for. But, there’s something about leaving him alone with these two random men that makes her feel scared.

Scared for him.

She doesn’t want to leave him.

Roman must recognize this, thumb gently and subtly moving over her hip. “Go.” It’s firmer this time around, but she hears it. Hears the unspoken please in it.

Nodding, she offers Dwayne and Matteo a small smile. “It–it was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” Matteo answers, eyes briefly flicking to Roman. “We are family, after all.”

Solana sees the slight snarl of Roman’s lip and almost palms his cheek, a comforting gesture when she remembers where they are and who they’re in front of. Clearing her throat, she instead takes heed to his guidance, moving up the steps and into their bedroom where she closes the door.

Solana is barely out of the line of vision when Dwayne, who had his eyes glued on her retreating figure, the switch of her hips and sway of her ass the entire time, comments to Roman, “I see why you haven’t come yet.” He smirks, heading in the direction of Roman’s office. “At least not to Italy.”

Roman gives a chuckling Matteo a look that could kill, if possible, walking without another word to his office where Dwayne already sits, plopped on the sofa.

“What happened?” Is the first thing Roman asks after sitting down at his desk. Because Dwayne wouldn’t have come all this damn way for something that could be covered in a phone or video call.

Matteo smirks. “Maybe he missed home.”

Roman glares. It’s bad enough he has to be around him at his official office but now the fucker is in his home too. Today has just been a complete shitshow. “And maybe I should put a fucking bullet in your head.”

Dwayne sighs. “Brothers.” But, before Roman can spear him through the nearest wall, Dwayne gets to business. “We have a problem.”

“Obviously,” Roman hisses. “What is the problem is is what I want to know.”

“We had a shipment infiltrated. Stolen. 7 figures worth of arms. Eight men killed,” Matteo explains, cutting right to the chase as he sits in the chair opposite Roman’s desk. “IT found a phone on the scene. Russian.”

“The Russians?” At that, Roman scowls. “That doesn’t even make any sense. Our alliance with them has been strong for almost twenty years. Why would Knyazev risk that?”

Anatoly Knyazev. Leader of the Russian mob, the same man Roman secured and formed an alliance with as one of his first accomplishments as Capo. The older man is smart, seasoned, and practical, for all things considered. He rules ruthlessly but wisely. For them to interfere in Cosa Nostra business makes no sense whatsoever.

“I agree,” Matteo voices. “But, the administration isn’t happy. The loss of product is one thing, but our men’s blood being spilled is another thing entirely.”

Roman curses quietly. Product can be replaced. Lives can’t. And while Roman feels nothing of the sort, the Administration views any and all members of the Cosa Nostra as family. From the little man to their top assassins. Loss of life is something they don’t stand for.

At all.

“They want vengeance,” Dwayne supplies, clearly reading Roman’s mind.

“They’re not going to do shit,” Roman growls, slamming his fist on the table. “The last thing we need is a war with our biggest ally.”

Especially with very little proof outside of a damn phone that very well could have been staged, which is exactly what Roman is betting on.

“I agree,” Dwayne sounds, “but guess who’s going around trying to instigate?”

Roman doesn’t even have to think. “Luca.” This fucker has always been annoying, even in the few interactions Roman had with him, but now he’s older and even more annoying. Starting shit that Roman is going to have to deal with, and if there’s one thing Roman hates, it’s having to clean up other people’s messes.

Matteo nods, leaning forward in his chair. “I told you. He wants you out. Bad. Personally, I think he was behind it.” Roman’s intrigue must show, his desire to hear more, proven by his continued silence. The other man explains. “You were right in that the business is the best it’s ever been under your command, but if he can change that, can make it seem like we’re starting to fall off the top of the food chain. Make it seem like you don’t care about the Cosa Nostra—”

“He can make a case to uproot me,” Roman finishes in a dark tone.

“Or worse,” Dwayne adds, shaking his head. “Look, Roman. It’s obvious there’s some shit going on that we haven’t figured out, but until then, we have to be careful. Matteo and I are the only ones who seem to find the Russians deciding to start shit after years of partnership fishy. And to be honest, we need to keep it that way. Keep our speculation between us, because we don’t know who we can trust. Especially with Luca’s ass in the background scheming.” Dwayne leans back in his seat. “The Administration wants a briefing though. Wants to know how we proceed. If we strike back. And they’re not going to want to hear shit from the mixed breeds. At least not Matteo and I.”

Roman looks away, already knowing what’s coming.

“You need to go there. Make a statement. Not a phone call or video conference. In person. Make your orders clear. Reaffirm and remind them that you’re the Capo.” Matteo isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know. Not that makes hearing it any better. “You can’t push this off anymore, Roman.”

“He’s right,” Dwayne agrees. “The longer you wait, the more it looks like your priorities are for the Bloodline only. That you’re only capable of running one, meaning it’s time for new leadership.”

His words drip with a truth that only has Roman’s anger rising. “Unfortunately, because it’s clear there’s an uprising brewing, you coming now puts you at higher risk for an assassination attempt. You’ll have to travel covertly. I’ll take care of that. I just need you to get on the damn plane.”

None of that is surprising as Roman provides his timeline. “Two weeks.” Both Matteo and Dwayne seemed far from pleased at this. Oh fucking well. “I have Bloodline business to handle next week. I can leave the week after.”

It’s not a lie. Jey’s little stunt will require a more public display of dominance, and what better way to remind everyone of who runs things than a public execution?

It’s time to grant Drew MCIntyre that match he’s been so desperate to have. Roman having his Wise Man make the arrangements earlier following Jey’s outburst.

“Fine. Two weeks,” Matteo relents. As if he had a choice. “You’ll need to stick around at least a week. Or two. A day or two appearance will give off the indication you’re uninterested and being performative.” Again, not something Roman doesn’t already know, but again again, there’s an issue. A huge issue.

Solana.

It’s only been two weeks since she completed treatment and returned home from the residential facility. But, in those two weeks she’s expressed on several occasions the best thing about being back home is being with him.

With Roman.

And now he has to leave her. Has to handle business. Dangerous business. A situation that could very well end up in some type of attempt on his life.

That doesn’t bother him. Roman’s been attacked and the subject of assassination attempts his whole damn life. It’s almost boring to him at this point.

What does bother him, however, is Solana knowing about this. Knowing the real reason why he has to fly halfway across the world seemingly out of nowhere.

Which is why she can’t know.

He can’t and won’t put that on her. She already worries about him. If she knew the real reason for the trip, she’d be terrified and beg him to not go. And not going simply isn’t an option anymore. He’s almost wishing he had just gone before.

It might have been a hell of a lot easier leaving her then compared to now when there’s so much more at stake.

Fuck.

“This conversation needs to remain between the three of us. No one else.” Matteo’s reminder irks Roman. He’s not fucking stupid.

Dwayne senses Roman is about to say some out of pocket shit, cutting in, “Matteo. You said you may have some contacts to further investigate what really happened with the shipment, right? Reach out. See what you can find.”

Matteo nods, smirk on his handsome face. “Already on it.”

Dwayne mirrors his expression. “Good.” He then gestures to Roman. “Let me talk to this asshole alone, please.”

Matteo scoffs quietly, standing up and adjusting his collar. “My pleasure.” He shoots his younger, half brother a wry grin. “Your wife is much better company than you.”

Roman shoots up from his desk, wanting to pitch something after Matteo’s laughing, retreating form.

“I like that guy,” Dwayne also laughs, lifting his hands in a surrender motion when Roman directs his murderous gaze to him. “Still a sensitive subject, I see.”

Roman plops back down in his chair, looking off as he asks his cousin, “you trust him?”

Dwayne’s answer is almost an instantaneous thing. “Wouldn’t have sent him here or brought him to your house if I didn’t.” It’s similar to his response when Roman first inquired about Matteo being sent as the ‘spy’ for the Cosa Nostra. “We’re gonna have to play this careful, Roman. I can’t describe it yet, but I got a feeling some shit is about to go down.”

Roman doesn't say anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not listening. Not planning. Strategizing.

“Solana….” The change in subject takes him a bit by surprise. “How she doing?”

Discussing certain details regarding Solana and her mental health is something few are privy to. Roman can count on one, maybe two hands who knew Solana has been away receiving mental health treatment. To most, she was hurt and shot that night at the lounge and has been away recovering. That’s the story Roman wanted put out in an effort to protect her privacy.

But, Dwayne is one of those few who knows the truth about where she’s been.

And why she was there.

“Better.” A part of him wants to say much better, because she seems that way, but he also doesn’t want to get too comfortable. To let his guard down. “She said it helped a lot. Medication seems to be making a difference too.”

“Good. She seems sweet.”

“She is.” The kindest person Roman has ever met. Much too kind for someone like him.

Dwayne sits back in his seat, wolfish grin on his face. “That’s a fine woman you got there, brotha.” And just like that, Roman’s older cousin is teetering the thin line between life and death. “Not sure I’d want to leave her either.” Brows furrowed, Dwayne asks, “what’s the Bloodline business?”

Roman quickly catches his cousin up on today’s events. Jey’s disrespect, mostly.

Dwayne’s response, however, is another thing Roman wasn’t entirely expecting. “You did what you had to do. Jey knows how this goes. He brought it on himself.”

There’s not a ton of disagreement there. Doesn’t make him feel much better about it though.

“Well,” Dwayne releases a heavy sigh, standing up after slapping his thighs. “I better get out of here. That son of a bitch Austin owes me a beer.”

Roman chuckles. “Just one?”

Dwayne’s smile is as mischievous as whatever he has planned once walking out that door. “Or two.”

A smile breaks on Roman’s face as he stands up, sharing a brief hug with his cousin. He has a strong feeling the next time he sees him will be on Italian soil. “Be safe.”

“I’m not the one with a bounty over my head, brotha.” It’s both comical and serious at the same time, in only the way Dwayne can achieve. “Tell that fine ass wife of yours I said goodnight.”

At that, Roman cuts his eyes, shoving his chuckling cousin away. “Shut the fuck up.”

Giving himself a few minutes to settle and push away any sign of stress or frustration, it’s not until about ten minutes later that he returns to the bedroom.

Roman is unsurprised to find Solana sitting on the middle of the bed, earbuds in, writing away in her journal. However, she’s almost immediately aware of his presence, ripping out those same buds and shutting her notebook. She’s instantly climbing off the bed and walking over to him.

“Are you okay?” Her hands ghost over his arms, as if she’s trying to feel for some sort of injury. “What was that about?”

He shrugs. “Just business stuff.” Not a lie. Just a very vague answer.

“This late?” Truth be told, the work never stops in this life, but he knows that’s not exactly what she’s referring to. “It’s—it’s something bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” The answer—a lie—comes out much easier and smoother than he’d like it to. “Just something that needs to be handled, and I’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“Hey.” He brings his hands to her waist, sneaking them past the open robe she wears, partially wanting to take it off her entirely. The two piece pajamas she has on deserve to be seen and not cloaked in any way. “Everything’s okay. Alright?”

She still looks concerned, and he hates that. Hates all of this. The lying to her, especially. “You would….you would tell me if it wasn’t….right?”

No.

That’s what he wants to say. The truth. Roman would and will absolutely keep anything and everything from her if it meant/means keeping her safe. Even if it makes her upset with him. He’ll deal with that.

He’ll take it any day, because her safety is the most important thing to him.

Mentally and physically.

“Yes.” Even if it makes him have an almost visceral reaction at having to lie to her like this. Even if it is for the better. “But nothing’s wrong, so there’s no need to worry, alright?”

He needs to tell her about the trip. That he has to leave in two weeks. There’s definitely no way around that, but it doesn’t need to happen tonight. Especially when he needs to work out the details and logistics, because Roman’s been administering Solana’s medication to her every morning since her release. She doesn’t even know where he keeps it, where he keeps any of the prescription and OTC pills in the house. Because he has them all hidden, something he’s not sure he’ll ever feel ready enough to change.

He also takes her to her continued weekly therapy appointments with Gail.

All of that can’t be interrupted with his absence, but the same person he called before to stay with her while he was gone to see his aunt is the same person he still holds partially responsible for Solana’s attempt in the first place.

Bayley.

Roman won’t make that mistake ever again.

So, until all of that is figured out, he’ll say nothing.

Plus, he already feels bad enough for ruining her party. No need to ruin her night as well.

At least with the party thing, he can make that up. He will make that up. Even if it means what he has planned including more people than he originally accounted for. The thought alone is far from exciting, but he’s determined to do right by her this time around.

Even if it does mean forcing himself to behave.

Somewhat.

Solana is visibly less anxious, but the remaining apprehension seems to melt away the minute she presses herself into his chest. She’s instantly relaxed and so is he. Having her in his arms seems to give him just as much comfort as she gets from it.

“Roman?”

He runs his hand across her back. “Hmm?”

Peering up at him is a mixture of skepticism and worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Not exactly. “You said you’d try talking to me more.”

He did. And he will, but the full extent of what is now on his plate is a weight he can’t and won’t share with her. He won’t burden her with his woes.

He can, however, give her something.

“Jey…..” Because that’s most definitely not a lie. The shit with Jey was the last thing he expected to happen today. Almost as unexpected as Dwayne’s visit. “The twins annoy me majority of the time, but they’re still….still my family.”

“You didn’t want to do that, Roman.” Solana is suddenly comforting him, her soft voice offering what he already knows to be true but appreciates hearing. “You……you didn’t have a choice. Jey….Jey should understand, right?”

“Should.” There’s a conflicted hint to his voice, because Jey should have known better than to disrespect Roman like that in front of an audience. Because truth be told, Roman would not have responded so violently had it even just been the usual group of Naomi, Bayley, and Jimmy. Even the Wise Man. Roman would have preferred a different, less physical route, but that wasn’t an option. The ‘choice’ Roman made was really the only choice he could make without looking weak in front of others.

Solana hugs him a little tighter, continuing to put him on a pedestal he has no business being on. “You’re a good man, Roman. I know….I know you don’t believe it, but you are.”

That’s because she has no idea a fraction of the things that he’s done. If she truly knew the horrors he’s committed over the years, the lives he’s taken, she’d never look at him the same.

He sometimes wonders if she’d even still feel the same way.

If she’d still love him.

Solana leans up and kisses his cheek before taking his hand in hers. Sliding her robe off and tossing it onto the bed, she murmurs, “let’s go to bed.” Roman wordlessly follows her over to the California King bed, watching her move her journal and case for her earbuds onto the nightstand as she pulls him down with her. Naturally, Solana falls into their go-to sleeping position. Her body nearly on top of his, her arm sprawled across his abdomen and her head on his chest.

She’s partially soothed by the way he keeps his hand planted on the small of her back. Partially because something tells her Roman isn’t being entirely honest about whatever conversation he had with his cousins she’s never even heard of until this evening. In all the time they’ve been together, she doesn’t remember once anyone ever coming to their home this late to discuss business.

Maybe a phone call.

Never an in-person visit.

A part of her wants to push him on it, but she also knows the Jey situation is still bothering him, so she doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

But, the other part, maybe an even bigger part doesn’t want to because it feels hypocritical. Him to be honest with her when she’s not being entirely honest with him. When she actually wanted to tell him something instead of asking again if he’s alright.

A split second decision being made to keep certain information to herself until she’s 100% sure, because she knows that he’ll most likely have to inform the Elders he’s spoken about a couple of times. And the last thing she wants is to send him with a message that ends up being a false alarm.

Because her period has been late before. Sometimes up to two weeks late. It’s just that this is the first time it’s been late with her being sexually active. With her having regular sex with her husband as a potential variable. Regular, unprotected sex.

But again, she’s not certain. Wants to give it a little while longer before she finally pulls out one of the pregnancy tests she’s had collecting dust in one of the cabinets in their master bathroom. It’s too soon though. Too many other things it could be besides that.

So, until then, she waits.

She’ll wait until it’s 100% confirmed, without a doubt, that she’s pregnant.

Ignoring that small, nagging gut feeling that she already knows the answer.

Knows that she is, without a doubt, pregnant.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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honeydippedwaffles · 1 year ago

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Smallest Drop - Part 2

Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.

He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.

There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.

Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.

Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.

Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.

All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.

But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.

Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.

It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.

Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.

She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.

“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”

She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”

She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.

Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.

She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”

She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.

“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”

A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.

But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”

Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”

“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”

He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.

“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”

But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”

She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.

Astarion thought that would be the end of it.

He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.

The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.

Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.

But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.

She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.

Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.

The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.

She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.

Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.

Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.

Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.

“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”

She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”

He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”

“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”

She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.

“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”

He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”

He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”

“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”

He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.

“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”

True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?

“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”

He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.

Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.

They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.

The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.

She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”

He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”

She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”

“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”

She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.

Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.

“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”

“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”

He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”

She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.

She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.

He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.

Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.

“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”

He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.

Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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nobodyknowsimalesbian777 · 5 days ago

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Sunshine (pt 2!) - pitfighter!vi (Arcane)

NSFW tags - porn, fantasizing about sex, switch!reader, sub!vi, dom!surprise character, pussy-eatting & fingering (r!receiving), face-riding (vi!receiving), bit of angst, lowkey evil reader ngl, kinda rushed

authors note - okay, it's here guys!!! this could probably be a stand-alone, but i strongly recommend reading part one first. i hope you love it! i hope the grammatical and spelling errors are not that bad, i really wanted to get this out before act 3 😛😛😛 ----------------------------------------------------------

you felt your hands shake as you lifted your head, meeting vi's fucked-out gaze

the pit in your stomach grew as you realized she didn't just accidentally call you Cait,

she was imaging you were Caitlyn

vi tilted her head, bringing her hand up to your cheek

you pulled your head away, throwing yourself up and nearly stomping to the bathroom

a shattered woman stared back at you in the mirror, and you could hardly stand it

rushing, you picked up everything you'd need for the night and slammed the door on your way out

you heard vi follow you out the door, calling out and asking what was wrong

her voice was enough to break you, and you felt tears stream down your face as you continued to a hotel a few blocks away

you had never felt a pain this deep before, and you found yourself questioning how often she thought about cait while she was with you

the thought killed you

you always liked caitlyn, but you hated her now for taking away vi

your violet

the violet you picked up and put back together while she killed herself for a woman who left her, sobbing, on the ground

suddenly, an all-consuming idea to get back at vi filled your mind,

how much would it hurt her to see the two women she lost together?

that's when you decided you needed to find caitlyn kirraman

it wouldn't be difficult, she was well known as the piltover military leader

you had both grown up in the same circles, which is why you were so surprised to find out about her past with vi

not that it mattered now,

you couldn't think of anything other then showing vi exactly how you felt, ruining her with the same name she had used to ruin you

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

you had spent the morning traveling back to piltover,

your parents welcomed you back with open arms, consoling you as you told them about what vi had done

the day was spent getting ready to find Caitlyn,

you had to make yourself look presentable after spending the night sobbing

caitlyns home wasn't far from yours, so you picked out a bottle of wine and made your way

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

the kirraman house stood tall, beckoning you up the stairs,

every step you took was one step closer to your vengeance against vi,

and that's all it took to encourage three firm knocks against the wood of caitlyns door.

the door opened to reveal a red-headed officer, she eyed you up and down before her thick Scottish accent pierced your eardrums

"junior officer nolan, what's your business here?"

you sighed sweetly, putting on your best act

"im here to...see an old friend" you hated how insincere you sounded

officer nolan, however, didn't seem to notice

she stepped back, inviting you in and even leading you back to a big conference room

you hasn't seen caitlyn in years, her youthful features had sharpened, and she kept her blue hair tucked under her cap,

it was impossible not to feel a mix of inferiority and attraction as you gazed at her

the wine bottle clicked as you set it on the table, prompting caitlyn to swivel around and meet your intense gaze

"who are you?" her accent sent shivers straight down your spine, but you had to remind yourself why you were here,

more, what you were here for.

"it's nice to see you too, caitlyn" you chuckled, again feigning sweetness

her eyes softened as she seemed to recognize you, a relieved sigh leaving her parted lips,

"i apologize, i've been a bit...on edge, as of late." a soft chuckle escaped you,

because she couldn't possibly imagine how much worse it was going to get.

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

weeks had passed with caitlyn, and you spent every available moment by her side

tending to housekeeping, amoung other, more personal matters

every moment you spent with her, you became more infatuated

you compared every part of her to yourself, questioning what made her linger in vi's mind while you had been together

it was very conflicting, as you were starting to realize exactly why she stuck

and every day that passed made you question if your affection towards her was an act.

these thoughts plagued your mind, when it wasn't filled with memories of vi

love was a confusing feeling for you,

and this triangle you had fabricated was not making a whole lot more sense

you spent nights laying in bed with caitlyn,

your hands drifting across the body that vi hadn't gotten the chance to know,

but somehow managed to love

much more then she had ever loved you, if she had at all

thoughts of leaving caitlyn had, of course, come up,

letting her feel the pain she had put vi, and (although indirectly) you through

but you knew that it would have been a waste of your time

you had spent time creating this scenario, and you were so close to the end

the last step was ensuring vi got a good look at you and cait, a real up close and personal look

luckily, cait frequently left you alone in her home when she was on missions

and her specific kirraman house parchment was not incredibly hard to find

so, as caitlyn slept, you drafted a note. one that would ensure vi was exactly where you wanted her

' vi, i need to speak to you. tommorow, midnight, sneak in the way i showed you...please. -cupcake'

you had it brought directly to vi's door, and moved into the next part of your plan, waiting.

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

the day seemed to drag on, caitlyn had endless amounts of visitors requesting her audience

you expected she would need her favorite form of stress relief at the end of the day

and you had no. idea. how right you were.

right at 11:45, just as you expected, caitlyn came into your now shared room

she immediately shed her uniform, huffing as she made her way over to the bed, where you lay waiting

cait shoved you down by the shoulders, making your back hit the bed as she straddled your legs, her strong thighs enclosing you

your moans echoed on the walls as she kissed down your torso, stopping only to hastily untie the robe covering you

the clocks hands ticked away behind her, showing '11:50', '11:53' and finally, right as she was spreading your legs, '12:00'

you made sure you were facing the window, while cait laid out on her stomach

hungry hands reached up, grabbing at any piece of flesh they could reach

all the stress of her job was taken out on your abused cunt,

you had barely felt the warm satisfaction of her tounge on your clit before she was ramming two fingers inside of you at a brutal pace

you'd never admit it, but you absolutely loved when cait treated you like this

when she reminded you that she owned you, regardless of why you came to her

vi was rarely allowed to see you this way, you made sure that she was satisfied above all else, and she used that

she used you

you suppose caitlyn did too, in a way

and suddenly, a thought you'd never had before was all you could think of

caitlyn continued her brutal ministrations on your clit as you imagined vi above you,

her cunt smothering you, absorbing your moans as you teased her entrance

you imagined cait standing, leaving you needy and wet, and watching you, directing you

telling you how exactly to touch each other, exactly what she wanted to see

you were pulled out of your fantasy when you heard the window slide open quietly,

cait was far too enamored with you to hear vi's soft gasp as she laid eyes on the two of you together

you lifted your head, making direct eye contact as caitlyn messily licked up and down your cunt

vi watched in shock as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets tight as you reached your peak all over caitlyns face

her soft moans were drowned out by your intense ones, you made sure to give vi a show as you came undone

cait lifted her head, moving up to kiss you before she realized you were looking directly behind her

glaring, more then looking actually

she whipped her head around, meeting vi's tear-brimmed eyes

they both looked between you and each other, you could see the millions of emotions passing through them as their eyes finally stayed on you,

you offered a simple shrug, pulling your robe back over as you sat up

your voice rung out in the painfully quiet room,

"doesn't feel so great, does it?"

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

okay gang idk how i feel about this yet?? i will defo come back after act 3 drops and clean it up a bit, i just wanted to get something out. i hope you like it soso much, i love the idea and im hoping my execution isn't too bad! as always, please please pleaseeeee leave all the insane requests, i love them all and it's so nice to get inspiration and just to know what you all want to read!!

#arcane #arcane smut #vi smut #vi x reader #vi arcane #sub!vi #caitvi #caitvi x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 months ago

Text

Mockingjay

Hi guys!

Sorry for the wait but here is finally the first chapter for the Luna's Hunger Games :)

I don't know for now exactly how I will ends this, but if you have any suggestion please feels free to send them to me, I might take them for the next chapters.

Also a big THANK YOU to @w-owwomen for your help, you are lovely ♥

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Nothing much for now I think, please let me know if you're not ok with it.

Ona was nervous. Fidgeting with her fingers, she looks at the people on the stage as trying to switch the microphone on. She hates this moment every year, the one where they are selected : the next young people to go to the Capitol. And then, they need to fight for their life in the arena.

As she's in the oldest of the selectable population, she's in the front now. Her gaze left the people in front of her to look for her family in the crowd. Their parents aren’t far from her, standing next to her brother. Joan’s name never was raffled, their parents only needing to save one more child to be happy. And now he’s too old to be a part of the Games.

At least, that’s what people in the city say.

They also say that they won’t select a child of one of the best craftsmen of the district. But Ona isn’t stupid and she knows that it has nothing to do with that. Sighing softly, she averts her gaze again when she realizes that her mother is almost crying.

Ona distracts herself as they give their speech and video reminding them why the children must die for the Capitol. Ona hates them. It’s only when they call the name of the male tribute that she listens again.

“Tony Sanchez”

Ona knows him. He's exactly between her and Joan in age and clearly terrified as he manages to walk to the stage and face the crowd. He's more Joan's friend then hers but they'll still talk when he came to their house.

“Alright, thank you, thank you” the presenter says, stopping fake clapping. “Now, the girl!”

Ona looks at the man carrying the pot and at the presenter as she puts her hand in. She takes several seconds to mix the papers, before taking one out. Ona knows before she opens her mouth.

“Ona Batlle”

She can feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on her and it’s possibly weighs heavier on her than the fact that it’s her turn to go face her death. She remembers the first times she was standing here, holding her brother’s arm. He always managed to reassure her, whispering to her that he will take her place if it was needed. But today, he can’t. And Ona probably wouldn’t let him do it.

Ona looks at her family again when she’s up the stairs. Her ears are buzzing, making her unable to hear anything around her. Her mother’s crying, her brother placed an arm around her shoulders. And her dad might pass for impassive, but Ona can see the terror and sadness in his eyes.

After the presentations, Ona and Tony are taken to go to a room to say their goodbye to their family. Ona already knows that room for being here two years ago, saying goodbye to someone she loved. A simple look only informs her that nothing has changed since the last time she came here.

She doesn’t have time to look at it for very long though, the door opens suddenly, letting her family enter the room. She’s almost crushed in her mother’s arms, deeply sobbing. Just a shared look with her father makes her understand that they think the same things. The tributes from district 8, where she comes from, never stay alive for long in the Games. They aren’t prepared for what is happening during the fight, they don’t know how to survive.

Joan seems to think the same, too.

“Take all your classes about survival. Maybe learn to make a fire but don’t do it at night, it will attract your opponents” he says.

Ona nods. She doesn’t need to hear that, she already knows. They had watched the Hunger Games together since they are allowed by their parents.

“Don’t eat something you don’t know and if you have to eat something raw, eat fish not meat yeah?”

“Okay” she says softly, still in her mother’s arms.

She knows that too, but she has the feeling that it helps Joan to say all of this to her. Ona doesn’t want them to cry at her departure. She wants them to stick together. Her family is the thing that helps her survive and be at least a little happy these last few years.

“Are you going to watch me?” she asks anyway.

“Of course we are” her father talks for the first time. “And no matter what Ona, we are proud of you and love you more than anything.”

Her mother cries harder and despite everything, Ona can’t help but smile softly and rolls her eyes. She’s happy to mean so much for her family, but she doesn’t want them to cry.

“I love you too, all of you.” she answers, trying to have a look at her mother’s face.

Someone is suddenly knocking on the door and Ona feels her heartbeat getting faster. Is it already time to say goodbye? But no, it’s only her best friend who came to say goodbye too. She just wanted to give the Batlles’ some time alone.

Aitana takes Ona’s mother place in her arms and hug her so hard that she might break her several ribs.

“She’ll needs all of her body intact” Joan says, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Promise you’ll fight to come back” Aitana whispers in her ears.

Their eyes cross when she releases Ona and Ona only nods for an answer. Aitana doesn’t seems to need much, stepping back to let someone else have her place. Her best friend knows what Ona is thinking, their connection never having failed since they met when they were maybe six months old.

Ona loses track of time and soon her parents are talking at Aitana about something. Ona takes advantage, grabbing her brother’s arm.

“If I don’t come back, promise me you’ll take care of them. And of you.”

Her brother frowns and open his mouth to answer something, but Ona cuts him off. She knows that he probably will say not to talk like that, that she has her chances to come back and everything, but that’s not what she needs right now.

“Please.”

They look at each other, Ona’s brown eyes deep in her brother’s blue ones. He finally sighs, putting a hand on her arm.

“I swear. But you have to swear back that you will fight for your life, Ona. You are clever enough to survive. You might not have the strength of a bulldozer, but you are smart, quick and tricky”

“I swear too” Ona answers calmly.

They look at each other for several seconds before Joan nods and takes his little sister in his arms. He wants to say that he’s sorry not to be able to protect her anymore, but he knows that she doesn’t need to hear it to know it.

********

One and a half hours later, she’s in the train taking her to the Capitol. The journey is long, two days and two nights. It will be the first time that Ona will cross another district. It won’t be too long though, because of the length of the district 8. When she enters the train, someone takes her to her room and asks her about her clothes size. She will need to get rid of the ones she’s wearing now and have to wear what they are giving her instead.

Thanks god it wasn’t awful, even if it looks like they are keeping the nice clothes for the TV shows.

She’s sitting in the main room when Tony comes to sit next with her. It’s weird to be face to face with someone who will be your opponent in a few days. He seems unsure too, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re little Joan sister, right?” he says finally after many minutes.

He knows who she is, Ona thought. But she takes pity on him, he always been friendly with her when he came to see Joan.

“Yeah” she mumbles. “And you’re Tony.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward.

“So, uh. What were you up to before coming here?” Ona asks.

The possibilities aren’t multiple in the district, but it’s always nice to ask, Ona thinks. Her parents' finances were pretty good. Ona was living with them in a pretty nice apartment in a pretty nice building. She knows it’s not the same for everyone.

“I was working in the Armory with my father” he shrugs.

Ona nods only. What can she answer? The good thing for Tony is that he probably knows about weapons now, unlike her. He doesn’t have time to ask her the question back, before the automatic doors of the wagon opens again.

Ona raises her eyes to look at the woman coming inside. Her long, blond hair looks like they are the softest she has ever seen, and she has to fight the urge to touch it. Her almond eyes are scanning both of them, before she smiles at them.

“Hi. I’m Alexia, I’ll be your advisor during the Games.”

Ona recognizes her. She won the Games five years ago, in an arena with the theme of an island. She was strong and never failed anyone.

“You’re not from district 8” Tony frowns.

Alexia doesn’t have time to answer before Ona speaks for her.

“We don’t have a winner who is still alive” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

She doesn’t look away when Alexia looks at her, shrugging. Like said before, their district isn’t really lucky in the games. A small smile appears on Alexia’s face and it’s still here when she talks again.

“Ona’s right. That’s why I nominated myself to help you to change that.”

She’s still looking at Ona when she sits down, and the young woman can’t help but look away. She feels like Alexia is scanning her soul with her eyes and it’s quite disturbing. Alexia seems genuinely intrigued by her.

“First, I’ll answer your questions if you have some and then I’ll explain to you what will happen now. You’ll have several classes with options during your training, we can talk and choose which ones are the best for you. I think it’s more important to value your strengths and not try too hard to work on your weaknesses, we don’t have time for that. It’s important to know them, though.”

Ona likes the way Alexia seems to be thinking. She was scared she’d have to face someone who will tell her that she has her chances to win. She knows it’s wrong. She wants someone to help her, and Alexia seems the right person for her.

The three of them spend almost a full hour speaking together. Tony seems a little reluctant to open up to Alexia, which Ona thinks is stupid. She’s here to help. As a result, Alexia decides to talk to Tony one on one first.

“Don’t be shy to use the facilities of the train” Alexia advises her when she leaves the room. “I’ll meet you in your room in around one hour”

Ona decides to explore the train a little more before going back to her bedroom. There aren't a lot of windows on this train, probably to hide the road to the Capitol. Like she would be going back one day.

She passes a room where Peacekeepers are looking at some screens. Ona realizes that some are of places in her district as well as many she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have time to look at it for any longer though, because one of them suddenly sees her and harshly closes the door.

When she comes back in her room, she realizes that a bunch of other clothes are on her bed, neatly folded and ironed. They look nice and Ona carefully puts them in the drawer facing her bed. She then takes a look at the stupidly big bathroom with a bathtub that could probably comfortably fit three people. She decides to refresh herself anyway and when she comes back, changed and showered, Alexia is waiting for her on her bed.

“Oh, sorry” Ona mumbles.

“No problem.”

They look at each other before Alexia nods towards the bed, asking her to take a seat next to her. Ona obliges, sitting cross-legged and grabbing a pillow to hug it without really thinking about it.

“So. You are Ona Batlle, 17, both your parents are alive, same as your big brother.”

She waits for Ona to nod before continuing. Alexia seems to have memorized everything as she is not reading off anything.

“What would you say are your strengths?”

Ona shrugs softly, before remembering what her brother told her. He’s probably right, but she hates talking about herself.

“I can be tricky when I need to, I guess.” she finally answers.

Alexia looks at her with the same scanning-disturbing look that earlier. Ona bites her lip and searches for something else to say, but it’s Alexia that talks first.

“I hated that too, talking about myself. But you have to realize that it will be talking about yourself that will make Capitol and Sponsors love you. They need to see themselves in you. Sure, there will be shy people watching, but shy people won’t get you any bonus.”

Ona nods. Of course, Alexia’s right. The brunette doesn’t usually like when people try to scold her, but Alexia has the ability to make her understand her point without seeming condescending. She likes it. The blonde grabs a pile of paper behind her and gives it to Ona.

“Those are the questions that will help me to understand you better. Please fill them in so I can see how to help you.”

Ona takes them, frowning slightly. Her eyes roam them before she looks at Alexia again. The blonde smiles at her before making herself comfortable against the headboard of the bed. Grabbing the pen hanging on the sheets, Ona starts to answer the questions.

********

The next day, Alexia joins them at breakfast with a plan about the obligatory classes and the optional ones she is advising each of them to attend. A quick look at Tony’s sheets makes Ona realize that they aren’t sharing a lot of them.

“Isn’t it better to stick together at the beginning?” she asks their Mentor.

“It can, but I really think that if you want to work together, it’s better to separate your strengths. And we never know, you can be separated at any point during the Games. It’s important that you can survive alone.”

It’s a polite way to say that they could betray the other at any time, Ona thinks. She looks closer at her sheets, seeing that Alexia added some survival classes like Ona had asked her yesterday.

“I’ll protect Ona at any coast” Tony says, frowning deeply.

Ona raises her eyes on him, surprised and a little uneasy at this statement. She feels Alexia’s quick gaze on her before the blonde talks.

“Great. But she can handle herself and all of the classes will help you both be stronger as individuals.”

She doesn’t add anything while grabbing a plate to put some waffles on it. Ona looks at her sheets again without really seeing them. She’s grateful for Tony’s protection, but doesn’t like being seen as a poor little girl. Sure, she’s may be small and not very muscular, but like Joan said she’s fast. Alexia putted some physical trainings on her timetable, but she doesn’t know what it means exactly.

********

The train ride is a little boring until they pass District 2. The landscapes are way more beautiful than District 8 which is not surprising. Ona feels impressed by the mountains and the small villages with beautiful small houses. It is nothing like the endless buildings in District 8.

“Oh sorry” Ona says as she enters the TV room.

She wasn’t expecting Alexia to be here, looking at the black screen. The blonde turns her head to look at her but smiles, gesturing for Ona to come to sit next to her.

“The train is for everyone” she shrugs. “Do you want to watch TV?”

“I never managed to turn it on…” Ona blushes.

Alexia smiles but doesn’t say anything, grabbing the remotes to turn it on. Ona frowns when she sees a seaside landscape in front of her eyes.

“It’s District 4” Alexia comments.

Ona nods softly, looking at Alexia from the corner of her eyes. She likes her, in a friendly way. She loves her brother with all her heart, but if she had to choose a big sister, she would have picked one like Alexia.

“You are from District 10, right?” Ona asks softly, scared to cross a line.

But Alexia just nods, switching the channel to find a beautiful forest. Once again, very differently of her district where you have to fight to be able to see something green.

“What does it looks like?”

“Like this”

Alexia switches the channel again. It now shows a landscape with a lot of mountains and canyons, beige and red rocks. And in the distance, you can see the sea. The kind of thing Ona only saw in books when she was younger.

“It looks beautiful” Ona finally says.

“It is. It’s very warm though, I miss the sun when I’m in the Capitol. I live near the sea, with my Mom and my sister.”

“What about your father?” Ona asks.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

She’s a little surprised by Alexia’s blunt answer. She looks carefully at her mentor, but she doesn’t seem mad. She’s not smiling of course, but her gaze is still inviting discussion.

“Don’t be. It was several years ago. He was sick. It was awful of course, but I try to do things for him now. I just hope he’s proud of me.”

“I’m sure he is.”

It’s maybe top direct, but Ona can’t imagine a parent who will not be proud of Alexia. Her answer makes Alexia smile though.

“Thanks.”

“So you are living with your mother and sister?”

“No, I’m living with my girlfriend actually.”

Her answer makes Ona almost jump. Homosexuality isn’t a thing that is appreciated in Panem. People usually hide it or get married to save appearances. Alexia’s smile gets wider this time, unable to hide her amusement.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re homophobic?”

There’s a mix of teasing and sincerity in Alexia’s voice. Ona blushes, but probably not for the reasons Alexia thinks.

“No, I… Quite the contrary actually.”

“Oh, so you have a girlfriend too?”

Ona bites her lip and shakes her head. No, she doesn’t have a girlfriend, but she doesn’t know how to explain things to Alexia. She doesn’t know if she wants to, to be honest. But she feels like she can trust Alexia, which is strange. Because except for her family and Aitana, she doesn’t trust anyone.

“I had one” Ona whispers.

“What happened?”

Alexia’s tone is the same as Ona’s, like she understands that it’s a sensitive subject for the younger girl. Ona takes a big breath before starting to talk again.

“Do you remember Jana Fernández? She was a tribute two years ago for my District. She was 15 at the time.”

“I do” Alexia only says.

“It was her. My girlfriend.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ona shrugs but doesn’t add anything. She doesn’t talk about Jana to anyone, even if her family knew at the time the nature of the relationship between her and Jana. Her parents and her brother have always been supportive about her sexuality and her choice. Her father said that he will love her no matter what and will crush anyone who will try to put a finger on her. She always felt safe with her family.

“I knew she only had a small chance, but it’s still hurt” Ona mumbles after a silence.

She’s not looking at Alexia, so she doesn’t see the sad smile on the blonde’s face. She’s surprised when she feels the other girl place an arm around her shoulders to hug her but she relaxes quickly, after the surprise has passed.

“It’s hard to live after the loss of someone you loved” Alexia says, waiting for Ona to hums before talking again. “I really think you never heal from it. You just learn to live with that part of you.”

“That’s right. I know she would have wanted for me to continue and maybe move on, but I can’t.”

“Maybe you haven’t found the right girl for now”

Ona shrugs once again, she doesn’t really know. And even if Alexia is right, it’s too late for her now. Her life is almost over.

They don’t say anything else, just looking silently at the different landscapes on TV. Alexia needs to answer a call at some point, so Ona goes back to her room to take a big, long, hot bath. Something she hasn't had a lot in her life. After that, she went to eat something with Tony and the team but left early to go to bed. The talk she had with Alexia exhausted her.

********

“Ona, come look at it!”

Ona groans when Tony calls her. She was all comfy, reading on the couch but stands anyway, joining him at the window. Ona realizes here that they are arriving at the Capitol and the view is like nothing she has ever seen in person before. Of course, she’s seen it on TV during previous Games, but it has nothing to do with being here in real life.

“It’s massive” she finally says.

Alexia hums, bored, from the couch where she was still sitting, leafing through a magazine. But Ona doesn’t look at her, captivated by the city in front of her eyes. Everything is shiny and bright.

They finally arrive at the train station and Ona wasn’t expecting people to come to see them but the crowd is massive and she lets Tony guides her with an hand on her back. They follow the Peacekeepers taking them to a white vehicle with no drivers. The tinted windows offer them the possibility to look without being gawked at.

“What’s now?” Ona asks Alexia.

“We will go to our rooms, then I’ll show you the other contestants. The training starts tomorrow.”

Ona nods, swallowing with difficulty. She still can’t believe that everything is really happening, that she’s slowly but surely preparing for her death. Breathing suddenly becomes shallow, so she tries to distract herself by looking by the windows. There is now way that she is having a panic attack right now.

Alexia’s comforting hand on her arm makes her jump, but she soon relaxes herself into her. Ona looks at the blonde from the corner of her eyes, but Alexia isn’t looking at her. She’s looking outside, but it’s better for Ona like this.

When they arrive at the place where they will stay, Ona’s mind almost explodes once again. Everything is so big and stupidly fancy. It makes her angry when she remembers that people almost die from hunger outside the Capitol. But she says nothing, she doesn’t know if the other members of the team are thinking like Alexia.

Ona’s room is big, with a double big bed. She has a TV, a drawer full of clothes and a proper bathroom that’s even bigger than the ones she had on the train. There are a lot of bottles of shampoo, shower gel and all different kinds of products for her skin and her hair.

“At least I’ll die pretty” Ona grumbles.

“The point is to stay alive, actually”

Ona jumps, hitting her knee on the furniture next to her. She wasn’t expecting someone to be here with her. She turns around to face another girl, brunette with a cocky smile.

“Hi. I’m Leila. I’m your fashion designer.”

“Oh. Hi.”

Leila doesn’t seem surprised by Ona’s lack of dynamic, she might be used. Fashion is never a thing usually in the District and for Ona too. Even if her parents works on that area, they work for the Capitol, not the Districts. They only are authorized to wear what the Capitol lets them.

“Alexia needs you in the living room. You will see your contestants and after that I’ll show you what I designed for you to wear for the different events before the Games.”

They were going to the living room while talking and Ona frowns when she hears that.

“What different moments?”

“Well the interviews on TV and the parade especially.”

Ona answers with a soft groan, not really fond of that kind of thing. She hates being in front of everyone. Leila seems to find this reaction funny based on her smile, but Ona doesn’t comment on it and lets herself fall onto the couch next to Tony. Alexia was standing next to the TV with a remote in her hand.

“Right, so as you already know, we have twelve Districts fighting during the Games. The districts 1, 2 and 4 are the career districts and of course they are the most talented and prepared for the Games. They will be tough opponents.”

“So it's probably best to have an alliance with one of them, right?” Tony asks.

Ona rolls her eyes and Alexia sees her gesture, making her smile softly. Tony doesn’t though and he keeps looking at Alexia with intensity.

“Maybe” Alexia finally answers. “But they don’t need you, unless you have a special something. They usually make an alliance between them.”

Tony nods and Alexia puts her attention back on the screen. She presses the buttons to present each tribute from each Districts. First the boy, then the girl. Ona looks at Alexia presenting the twins of 1, the psychopaths of 2 and the Nerds of 3.

“Now from District 4. Declan Smith. He seems pretty fast, and his father is one of the best fishermen from the District. He probably knows how to craft some interesting things, and of course fishing.”

Ona looks at him, he might be 18 or maybe 17, but clearly not younger. He could easily pass for someone older than 18 though. Alexia clicks on the remote again and a picture of a girl appears on the screen.

“Lucy Bronze. She’s Jorge Bronze’s little sister, the winner of the Games two years ago. If she’s like him, she’s a great fighter. Very strategic, isn’t afraid of a phsyical fight but clever enough to know when to hide.”

There is a moment of silence while they all look at her picture.

“She seems… impressive” Tony finally says.

It caught Ona by surprise, because she almost adds “beautiful” to Tony’s sentence. Her face card has probably never declined. She has beautiful green eyes; brown hair and her face is pretty even if she’s not smiling in this picture. Her muscles seem pretty impressive too.

Ona is so surprised at attraction to the girl in the picture that she isn’t really following what Alexia says after that. She just pouts a little bit at her picture, thinking they could have chosen another one. This one isn’t really pretty.

When she goes to bed several hours after that, she is still thinking about Lucy and it was really annoying her. She doesn’t even know the girl, why is she having such an impact on her? She’s almost eager for the training from tomorrow, where she will probably meet her and see how unbearable she is to help her to get over it.

Chapter After

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #lucy and ona #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze x ona batlle

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1d1195 · 4 months ago

Text

Most II

Read Most here | ~8.6k words (whoops)

From me: So I was worried I wasn't going to have enough for this part. Especially from our MC's POV. I started with Harry first and then I wrote her POV and I think this got a little out of hand as I always manage to do--but hopefully you'll see what I was aiming for.

Warnings: angsty af, some fluff too; my hope is you'll cry when you least expect it

Summary: Leaving nearly killed her; but if Harry was happy, it would be worth it. Harry thought he would never get out of bed ever again after she left. But he did. He's really glad he did, too.

*Three years later*

“Thank you, Harry!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Peterson. Same time next week?” He winked. The woman was older, in her sixties, she smiled politely at Harry and waved from her doorway. It seemed Mrs. Peterson constantly had issues with her alarms and being that she was older and away from family, Harry was happy to help her.

It helped that he lived next door to her as well. A tiny little house, two bedrooms, one bathroom. But it had a nice yard and Harry thought that maybe in the future there would be a flower garden and maybe one day there would be two kids who would find a bird’s nest among the flowers. But more than likely if they had two kids they would need a bigger house, a new yard, with a different garden.

The first year was the worst.

It felt like she died. The grief was so overwhelming it was hard for him to get out of bed. His mum even said things like, “Harry, she wouldn’t want this,” and “honey bunny, you have to keep living,” and Harry was mean about it. He was grumpy, sour. He told his mum it wasn’t living if she wasn’t around. He was sure he sounded like a lovelorn teen who knew nothing about love and life, but he did. Because she was the love of his life; and she was gone.

Gemma was better at getting him out of bed. Mostly because she physically dragged him out, but he was up and out all the same. She took him to get lunch and made sure he attended his classes. She watched him mope and live this half existence. Gemma wanted to hate her. She really did. But she couldn’t. As connected as she and Harry were, it felt like Gemma had a connection with her as well—maybe it was only by proxy of her brother, but she felt it.

“I think she’ll be back,” Gemma had taken Harry to the park for fresh air. They watched people run through, dogs chase after squirrels, and kids swinging at the playground. Life kept moving even if Harry felt like he was at a standstill.

“Gem,” he sighed. His eyes were tired, devoid of tears any longer. “I don’t want...”

“What? To hope?” He didn’t answer her, kicked at the rock near the bench they were sitting on. “I’m not saying you have to get back out there or anything,” she rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. The thought was laughable. There was no one else for him, he was certain. “But some hope would be good,” she suggested.

“Why d’you have hope?” He grumbled not looking at his sister.

“Because I want to hate her guts,” Gemma said knowingly. “I want to claw her eyes out for making my baby brother cry and tear her hair out of her head.”

“Gem,” he grimaced. Even hearing her talk about injuring her made him nauseous.

“Yeah, exactly. The thought of it makes me sick too,” she turned to face Harry on the bench. “She broke you and your sweet heart, Harry,” she reminded him. He turned away from her, afraid he would cry. “Because she thought it was for the best and I believe she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I think she really believed this was for the best. Have you ever seen her do anything she didn’t believe in?” Gemma reminded him.

He hadn’t. Harry, for a brief period of time, really wanted to run a marathon and she helped him schedule and train as if he was going to win a marathon. She hated running but she was up at six in the morning, waiting with a tired, beautiful smile. “Ready?” She yawned. He smirked at the memory. Mostly because when he told her the marathon dream was over, she punched him in the arm for making her like running and getting out of bed so early.

“No,” he sighed, shook his head. Harry let the pause consume the two of them for a few moments. The sound of laughter from the swing set and chatter from the owners to their dogs was warm. Like Harry was there all the time and it was comforting. “I miss her,” he whispered. “I miss her for everything for a lot of reasons... but maybe mostly as m’best friend.”

Gemma smiled sadly, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and nodded. Harry was her little baby brother, but he was a head taller than her, and he had to squish down to rest his head on hers. “I miss her too,” she sighed. “But don’t worry...” Gemma agreed. “She’s gonna be back,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

So, the first year was without hope. Harry focused on EMS classes, the classes for his psychology degree, and applying to be a volunteer firefighter so that he could get some of what he wanted whether she was there or not.

The second year, he helped with fire safety and the local primary school. He told little boys and girls how to make safety plans and encouraged them to chat with their parents so they could be safe in the case of a fire.

“Have you ever fought a fire?” A little girl asked him.

He chuckled. “No, but m’friend and I made a campfire and it spread a little more on the yard than we’d like,” he explained with a smile. “Had t’put it out ourselves.”

“Weren’t you scared?” She whispered.

Harry thought about the two of them in his backyard, waiting to roast marshmallows and thinking they could do it without his mum around. They were pretty successful, but a gust of wind threw them for a loop. She was ready to call the fire department. Fortunately, Harry was prepared and had a bucket of water to stop the spread of the flames from licking all the grass away.

“Aw, my hero,” she cooed sweetly, and Harry smiled, feeling happy. He was only eleven or so at the time, but he loved the thought of being her hero. It was worth the grounding and worth the yard work to fix it after. All for that cute girl he already adored in his tween years so very much.

“No,” he shook his head, smiling as he answered the little girl. “No, I wasn’t scared. S’important t’remain calm,” he explained.

“But what if my stuffy gets stuck inside?” She looked at Harry, wide-eyed with horror. It was nearly identical to the same horror the sweet girl had when the backyard was close to burning.

“I bet your mum and dad would have a plan, love. M’sure they’ll be able t’tell you what y’need t’do t’get you and your stuffy out,” he winked at her.

She nodded knowingly. “My little brother too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded firmly. “Little brothers gotta get out too.”

It was like the little girl could predict the future because year three was the year of Harry finishing his degree (early—since he had nothing better to do than study and study some more). He was a staple at the fire station. Helping the town the way he always dreamed of helping.

And fighting real fires.

One of the major restaurants in town had a greasy fire that had him and his department racing to put out the flames before the building next door followed the same fate. Even though he didn’t do a whole lot other than hold the hose (it was a pretty relaxed fire, all things considered) he felt a swell of pride, pure happiness in his chest.

When he was at the local primary school again for a fire drill that same sweet little girl made her way to him, told him all about her plan and how Mummy and Daddy said they would save her stuffies if they could, but they weren’t nearly as important as her. He grinned. “I told you they’d have a plan,” he gave her a fist bump.

“This is my friend, he’s going to be a fireman too,” she pointed to the little boy beside her. He looked a little shy. But he smiled politely.

“S’cool, lad,” he gave him a fist bump as well. “Can’t wait t’have you on the team,” he winked. “Y’gonna train and take care of our little town here?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s going to marry me,” the little girl said. It was casual. Like breathing. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, it wasn’t hope. It was pure fact. She sounded certain she was going to marry her little friend. “And he has a plan for all my stuffies too.”

Now Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Or nostalgia. Perhaps it was a combination of both. How on earth could a twenty-two-year-old man be jealous of a nine-year-old?

But nine was the year she was a pirate for Halloween. At the time, Harry thought his best friend was so pretty and he wasn’t supposed to think girls were pretty, but she was. Even though Harry didn’t know why he thought she was pretty, suddenly, he wanted her to be in his life. So that he could soak in all her beauty and make her happy as long as he possibly could. He cleared his throat. “S’good, love,” he agreed kindly and as silly as it was, he walked away from the little ones because if he stayed a moment longer, he would break down crying jealous of the little love that he used to have that bloomed into something so much more and then disappeared.

That first year was truly the worst.

Mitch had Mondays, Niall on Wednesdays. Louis took mornings, since he and Harry jogged together around town. Sarah took weekends, making sure he went to the coffee shop that played quiet music while college students studied just near the university. Eleanor was constantly on call and that usually meant she talked him through the loneliness when he got home from his classes or work—he chatted about his day and told her what he was going to have for dinner.

Anne was compassionate. Always. “Honey, don’t you think—”

“Mum,” he sighed, he didn’t want to hear the end of the sentence. He already knew what it was going to be anyway.

“Couldn’t we look for her?” Anne asked. He shook his head.

“She...left,” it felt like acid in his mouth to say it. But maybe if he had followed after her that first week things would have been different. But he didn’t. So, she was gone and if she wanted to be gone, then what was Harry supposed to do but listen to her? At the heart of it all, he wanted her to be happy. Even if it made him miserable and sad.

But maybe Gemma was right—of course he hoped she was right.

“She’ll come back,” he mumbled. It was still hard for him to say. Even harder for him to believe.

But he did. It took two of the three years she had been gone for him to feel that way, but he believed it. Believed that she would come back because she was his soulmate.

Even though he didn’t believe in those.

“Harry,” Anne sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“Mum, m’jus...something happened,” he sighed. “I don’t know why but...something scared her away. M’not gonna make her run further by looking for her. Begging is only going t’make it worse,” he had given the spiel a thousand times over. “You can’t hate her, Mum.”

“Honey, I love that girl almost as much as you do,” she assured him with a grin. “I just don’t want you to stop living because of her.”

He knew she was right. All of them were right. So, he went to class. He went to work. He saved money to buy his house (and got some help from his kind mum too). He did so many overtime shifts, his coworkers thought he was being a suck up. His mum and Gemma worried about him. His friends worried about him. Harry tried out a plethora of ridiculous hobbies to keep him entertained enough and “lived” even though he didn’t want to.

Because living without her didn’t really feel like living.

But that part of Gemma that felt she would be back made him hope, in the deepest parts of his heart. Made him want to live even when he didn’t think he could because if she came back, he did think she might be mad he tried to stop living.

So, he lived.

Harry got home from his overnight shift at seven in the morning. He was tired. Didn’t sleep well the day before so it felt like he was going to fall asleep the moment he closed his front door—he wasn’t going to make it to the couch.

“Harry?!”

It was the exhaustion playing with his mind. He wanted to just go inside, not fiddle with Mrs. Peterson’s smoke alarms or make small talk. “Hey, Mrs. Peterson, good morning,” he answered, making his way across the yard to hers. “Everything alright?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Harry,” she started.

Harry felt guilty for not wanting to help the older woman. Regardless of how tired he felt. “No bother, Mrs. Peterson, really.”

“I think this house is cursed! Remember when the water heater exploded?!”

Harry smiled politely but wanted nothing more than to just go to bed. But Harry pressed anyway. He knew she was lonely. Harry knew loneliness like nobody else. “I do; what is it this time?”

“The sink is backed up—I think something’s clogged in it. I’m so sorry to bug you. I know you just got home—"

“It’s fine Mrs. Peterson. I’ll take a look,” he made his way through her home to the kitchen. Harry knew where everything was because he had done so much maintenance for her over the last year. Harry glanced at the sink for just a minute and then headed to her supply closet to get a bucket and the tools he had set in there for the very likes of this situation.

Once he had his materials, he laid back on the floor and crawled below the cabinet to get a look at the pipe curving out from the sink. All he wanted was to go home and fall asleep. But every once in a while, his thoughts kicked into overdrive—perhaps it was tiredness wreaking havoc on his brain.

Out of nowhere, this wasn’t Mrs. Peterson’s house.

It was the house he was supposed to be sharing with the love of his life. She would be hovering over him, making a joke about plumbing and pipes that would bring a blush to his face. Something he never expected the sweet girl to say but was enamored with her comedic timing. He would fix the issue and hear her say “my hero,” again. She would kiss him and probably convince him (although he needed very little convincing when it came to her and any desire she had) to have sex with her on the kitchen counter.

It took a minute for Harry to notice the water stopped leaking into the bucket. Carefully, he stuck a screwdriver into the pipes to make sure everything was clear and ready to be put back. “Alright, then,” he cleared his throat and slid back from the cabinet and stood to test the sink.

“You know Harry,” Mrs. Peterson began. “A handsome, kind, intelligent young man like you,” Harry was back below the sink putting the pipe back together. “I have a granddaughter your age. She’s very smart. She wants to be an engineer and she’s going to work—”

Harry smiled kindly. “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” it wasn’t the first time she had brought it up. “But, y’know m’happily taken.”

The first year was the worst.

Fortunately, her mom didn’t put up too much of a fight when she went home and said she wanted to move away. The car accident she was in really did a number on her and her mind. In turn, it messed with her daughter as well.

Mom said she planned on moving when she went off to college anyway. In a moment of clarity, a good day she was having, she explained she wanted to be closer to her sister so that she could let her live her young life the way she was supposed to and not have to worry about her addled mind. At the time, she was devastated. The thought of not having a house near Harry seemed horrifying. Grounds for a tantrum she never threw when she was young. She was going to drag her feet and keep hold onto Harry like she was being told she had to leave a theme park.

At the time, Harry wiped her tears away, kissed her gently on the forehead and assured her she could live with him until they got a house of their own.

She never thought she would willingly ask her mom to leave their lovely town.

Fortunately, the day she asked to leave her eyes were bloodshot, but her moms were clear. “Are you sure, sweetie?” She combed her hair back and kissed her forehead the same way Harry had in the exact opposite reaction. “What happened?”

She inhaled sharply, shook her head, and turned away. “No,” she sniveled. “No.”

So, for a few moments, her mom was her mom. The one that was kind and lovely. The one who’s mind was fully intact and didn’t get angry for no reason. “Oh sweetie,” she frowned and held her while she cried.

When they arrived at her new place, a small little house her mom was renting just a few miles away from her aunt, they reminisced about the photos and trinkets she grew up with. They laughed and she felt like she was at home even though it was the furthest from home she ever could have imagined.

“You know, when I’m mad, it’s not about you, my love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” her mom told her. “I’m sorry I’m not the mom you used to have.”

Her dad had ducked his responsibilities shortly before her mom’s water broke so it had always been the two of them. For a very long time, it was perfect. Her childhood was perfect. The best mom who never made her feel like she couldn’t do something.

Then, post-accident, it felt like just one and a half of them.

Sometimes, she didn’t know who the half was.

But one thing she could count on was that Harry would make her whole.

“I’m worried that I won’t live my life because of her,” she whispered to Harry. They were laying under the stars in his backyard. It was before they were together; but if you asked her, there was never a time they weren’t together. Being boyfriend and girlfriend in school was a label for everyone else, not for them. “It makes me feel selfish,” her voice creaked.

“You are the least selfish person I know, kitten,” Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Squeezed it. “Your mum is still your mum,” he promised. “She doesn’t want you t’take care of her. S’not your job. You have t’live your life for her.”

Harry was a year older than her, but it often felt like he was ages older. He was wise beyond reason, and she was so grateful he was in her life. Not just because he was easy to look at and she adored him so unbelievably much, but because he was right. He was there. And he always made her feel better.

She was turned on her side, so she could properly stare at him. The car accident was years ago at that point, and it still felt fresh. Part of her lost a chunk of her mom that day and sometimes the aftermath was more painful than the day her aunt came to get her at school and bring her to the hospital. She and Harry usually walked home from school and the poor thing nearly had a panic attack not knowing where she was.

How no one, including themselves, figured out they were meant for one another long before they were together, seemed crazy to look back on.

When she realized her mom was different, Harry was there to balance the craziness. He helped her cope and assured her that everything would work itself out. He helped her through the screaming matches that ensued and all the frustration she felt from not being the same mom she once had. Things would be okay—he would make sure of it.

It was ridiculous that two teenagers could think in absolutes like that. But she believed him so completely; neither of them had money—well, no more than their retail jobs offered. Harry couldn’t support her anymore than she could support him. But given the chance she was certain he would. And she wanted nothing more than to be there for Harry the way he was for her.

But without Harry, she felt numb. Trivial stuff didn’t matter anymore: a broken dish, mom yelling at her, a car repair, or a cut on her finger from slicing veggies for dinner. Waitressing mishaps and stressing for finals felt completely different without Harry by her side.

Her mom forgot a lot of stuff. Where she put bills, where she left her glasses, or how to get to the grocery store. But she never forgot Harry.

“How’s Harry?” She asked.

“Good,” it was easier on her heart and her mom to just say he was fine. It wasn’t worth reliving the experience over and over. It killed her that she didn’t forget. Hearing his name made her stomach flutter. But they were closer to her aunt now. So she was able to help with the things her mom was forgetting more frequently and the chronic pain and anger that she suffered from due to the accident. It was why she was able to live in apartment with a friend from school.

How she was able to make a friend at all was a miracle.

Addie was a history major and but took so many dance classes she could have double-majored in it. She was graceful and beautiful. She was loud and fun—always knew people who threw the best parties and always managed to find a guy to help move their stuff in and out of their dorm and apartments.

Part of her wondered why Addie even liked being friends with her. She wasn’t anything like Addie: bright, vivacious, life-loving. All she did was go to class, go to work, and mourn the loss of the love of her life even though it was her own fault.

After some coaxing and friendship building (and a thunderstorm mid semester that took out the power in the middle of the night and simultaneously woke the pair of them) she told Addie all about her past life. “Sweetie,” Addie shook her head and spoke into the dark room as if she could see her. It felt like she was yanking directly on her heart. “You could have him again,” she promised. “There’s no way he’s not waiting for you.”

“But Addie... he deserves more.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t want more.”

“Addie,” she shook her head. “I’m not...”

“Not what? Everything you just said made it sound like you’re his soulmate.”

She felt like her vocal cords had been pinched together. She was glad the darkness hid the tears. “Harry didn’t believe in those,” she whispered.

“Well, respectfully, sweetie…he’s as dumb as you are, then.”

She laughed. It started quietly and built and built. Her giggle into unfiltered pure joy. It had been months since she laughed like that. It was warm and made Addie laugh alongside her. She didn’t know how much she missed laughing. It didn’t make it better because God, did she miss Harry and her old life, her old friends, and everything about that wonderful, beautiful town. But it made her think that maybe, if she could laugh, Harry would too. That’s what she wanted, right? At the end of the day, it was why she left. Give Harry the chance to have more when she felt like less.

Addie took a writing class with her in their second semester. An intro class—but it was one of those ones that was ridiculously hard for no reason at all. Luckily, she enjoyed writing, but if someone took this class as a hopeful, easy elective, they were in for a rude awakening.

Their professor had just finished reading one of the assignments from the previous week. It was riveting, a short story about a girl who felt this undeniable pull to jump off a bridge in the town she lived in. It wasn’t a tragic kind of jump. It was like a reset, something hard to explain. That there were a lot of things she felt it would help—if she just jumped once, it—no everything—would be okay. She described the bridge, the rocks, the water with so much rich vocabulary, it was like everyone in the class was there at the bridge. The protagonist hated heights though, and jumping was dangerous even if it wasn’t tragic. The back and forth of pros and cons as to why she should jump, why she shouldn’t. The humor, the warmth, the nostalgia hit the entire class like a tsunami.

The final paragraph read about the girl going to the bridge. She had just decided, finally she was going to jump. She set her belongings down and climbed the railing. She was alone and brave. No one was going to stop her, and she felt so good. She wasn’t going to stop herself. She breathed in the salty air, didn’t look down, and listened to the sound of waves crashing over the rocky shore. It was peaceful. No cars around, no people. Just her and the water. It was exciting, Addie felt for the character wanting the reset more than she wanted to breathe. It was going to work; she was going to feel better. Addie was proud of her for wanting to do it and getting what she wanted.

A reset. To fix everything. Their professor read.

Then, she climbed off the railing, picked up her stuff, and went home.

How was anyone supposed to remain in this writing class if that was what they were competing with?

“I hope she publishes that,” Addie whispered.

Their professor wrote the assignment on the board. Another short reading and then questions to go over it. The room was silent while people read, and then quiet chatter started as they worked in pairs on the assignment. At the same time, their professor shuffled the previous writing assignments and returned them to their authors.

The paper titled Jump slid onto the desk beside Addie. She stared at her friend like she was possessed. “Are you kidding?”

She quietly tucked the paper below her new assignment sheet and shrugged, cheeks blushing at the notion. Addie was in awe and unnerved that she didn’t seem to care. Over the next several classes, she kept an eye on her friend so she wouldn’t miss any more brilliance. She wrote answers to questions her professor asked in her notebook. “Why don’t you answer?” Addie whispered.

“Shh,” she hushed.

“Are you a genius? Like a prodigy or something?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, worried her professor would say something about their rude and ridiculous whispering to them.

After class, they headed back to their dorm for a nap. It was like they were toddlers, but they didn’t care. “So, Prodigy—”

“Addie,” she laughed. “Stop.”

“What’s your plan? A book?”

There was a small pause. Reflective almost. Then she nodded. “Yes.”

They were quiet. Addie waited for her to elaborate but it never came. “Sweetie, you’re brilliant.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, still not elaborating. That was the first time she felt like her old self in her writing. It was the first piece of something that was sentimental and her that she had written since she left. It had been 231 days since she saw Harry. Last week when they had been assigned the homework to write something like Jump, she finally felt like it was worth writing.

“Hey,” Addie stopped her, a hand on her arm as they approached their dorm. “Can we just...take a second? You wrote something so brilliant and beautiful. Maybe you and Harry were used to that kind of brilliance, but I’m only just learning about it,” Addie said Harry’s name so casually. Like she had known him just as long as she had. Harry would love Addie, she was sure. “You should enter that in a contest,” she told her. She snorted and shook her head. “I’m serious! It should be published. You hooked me in, and it was what, five thousand words?”

She nodded; shrugged nonchalantly. “More like four thousand, actually.”

Well, it felt like ten thousand to Addie and she still loved it. “Why did you write it?” Addie asked. Biting the inside of her lip she shrugged again. But she knew. They both knew. “Sweetie, you can go back to him. You can jump,” she said reassuringly. Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. “Harry would under—”

“I know,” she croaked. “I know,” she sniffled. The chill in the air wasn’t helping. Harry’s birthday was only a few days ago and it was the first one in years where she didn’t send him a message at midnight. She had been the first one to wish him a happy birthday for the last ten years—since she was old enough to text him. But Addie was right. Harry would understand. It was ridiculous that he would. He would forgive her instantly. But it was barely half a year. It was too soon...it wasn’t enough time to let him... breathe without her.

Even if it felt like she was suffocating without him.

“Aw, babe,” Addie sighed and wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder. It took her a second to notice she was crying, sniveling more than was necessary as she remembered his birthday wishes. “I’m sorry,” she said and ushered her the rest of the way into their dorm. “We can talk about it another time.”

She sniveled and wiped her eyes. “S’okay. Thank you for being so nice, Addie,” she said truthfully. A different friend might have told her to quit crying and it was her own choice. But Addie was different. Because as brilliant as she was, Addie had a knack for this kind of emotion, this kind of understanding that someone as graceful as her could only understand.

“Of course,” she held the door open for the lobby. “That’s what best friends are for.”

She worked a lot from the moment she set foot on campus. She waitressed at a restaurant that was flooded with locals and plenty of college students. For years the only one that flirted with her was Harry. She was surprised when guys asked her out while she was working. It was a little uncomfortable at first. “I’m actually—”

“Of course she’s taken,” one of the guys at her table said to his friend.

And honestly, she hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, she still felt taken. Very much so. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to move on from Harry. “You are?” he asked with a frown.

“Happily,” she sighed softly. Because it was true—partly. She was smitten; completely taken by and with Harry. Whether he was physically around her or not. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Couldn’t be.

It didn’t stop the flirtations, but it made it easier to take them on because she could say her heart was taken. Happily, taken.

So, the first year was the worst. Figuring out how to live without her best friend and so she focused on school. She focused on work. But Harry invaded her every thought. In fact, she started writing down things that happened to her. Like a list because maybe, in the depths of her subconscious, she wanted to go back. That’s what Jump was about. She had to go back. Even if it was to see that he had moved on and if he did, that was good. He deserved it.

Harry was in her blood. He was written in her notebooks as if she had it tattooed on her skin.

“Do you want to get an apartment?” Addie asked. “You’re staying the summer, yeah? What was your plan for that?”

She wasn’t sure, honestly. It was April and the semester was coming to close in just a few weeks. She thought she would just sleep in her car or something and shower at the gym. Visit her mom for a bit of time about an hour away. Or maybe even commute from there. But she hadn’t thought about it, because it honestly didn’t matter. She would continue working and moving. Trying her hand at silly hobbies to entertain her mind and keep her from spiraling and being sad all the time.

“Yeah...um...no...no plan. An apartment?” the sale of her mom’s house gave her a pretty penny. It was kind of her mom to give her anything. Well...you know. Her mom shrugged. An unspoken sentence about inheritance and the like.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have air conditioner that worked when we wanted it to?” Addie sighed dreamily. “Or heat? Like why are these dorms even allowed to run without heat in the middle of a snowstorm?”

The chilly night they spent snuggled in bed beneath every blanket they owned and every sweatshirt they could possibly put on was now a fond memory that made them smile. Although it was anything but fond at the time. “And if the smoke detector goes off, we don’t have to run out necessarily,” Addie continued. “You can feel not guilty about writing into the night in your own room.”

“Are you trying to sell apartment living or are you flirting with me?”

“Whatever gets you to move in. My parents know someone so the rent will be cheap—just have to pay the utilities and a little monthly fee. The only thing is we’d have to move twice. They have this place for the summer but we’d have to go to a different one of their places at the end of August.”

With the tips she was making, plus the tutoring she did at the writing center, it seemed completely doable. But a huge part of her hesitated because she always dreamed her first apartment would be with Harry. He would help her move furniture and let her decorate it however she wanted even though she asked every time if he liked it. What if I want pink walls with yellow polka dots? She asked him. Then I’ll get m’paintbrush. What if I only want blow-up furniture? She wondered. Then I’ll buy an air pump.

“We’ll have to go furniture shopping,” she said instead.

Addie squealed.

She was sitting in the auditorium watching Addie’s dance recital. A guy sat beside her. “Hey,” he said sweetly. “I’m Carter,” he stuck his hand out. She offered her name quietly.

Harry would love Carter. Clearly a bright personality—outgoing and sweet. “I saw you sitting alone and figured I’m alone too. Are you waiting for someone?” He asked. She shook her head. “I think we have a class together,” she didn’t immediately recognize him. Harry would love him. Would love how sweet he was to get ready to just chat and make her feel comfortable without being creepy. Even though she did not want to talk to him. Not because he made her feel weird but because she was grumpy, sullen and sad. “Do you know someone in the show?”

She cleared her throat. “My best friend; my roommate. Addie,” she pointed in the brochure showing a picture of her that she had to submit a week ago and they spent hours going over photos of her.

She watched him look at her picture. For a moment it was like looking in a mirror. She knew what Carter saw because she experienced it every time that she looked at Harry. Unwittingly, she had just shown Carter the first image of his soulmate.

“Oh... oh wow... she’s... she’s like... really pretty,” he swallowed his eyes widening, drinking in her portrait like she was the only thing that mattered. “Sorry,” he shook his head and turned away briefly. When he turned back to continue the conversation, he had a bright smile on his face. But she was already mentally gushing about the way he had fallen for her friend just from a mere headshot in a program. “My sister did dance for years and I’m really far away from home so I thought I would come check it out. I used to complain about all the recitals, but now I miss them. Isn’t that weird, how you take it for granted?”

She didn’t feel like talking. Especially about things that were taken for granted. She had spent most of the day packing up her dorm room and scouring Facebook Marketplace for cheap furniture. She and Addie were going to as many thrift stores and yard sales this weekend as it took to furnish their two-bedroom place. She was tired and overwhelmed.

Maybe I should suggest blow-up furniture.

But Carter clearly wanted to chat, and they still had a few minutes until the show started. Obviously, he liked her friend already, so she needed him to like her because she couldn’t stand to lose another person in her life. Even of her own doing. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s like you... you forget all the little things,” she murmured. “Like I remember the big things, like the hugs and the vacation memories, all the popcorn we shared at the movies...” She smiled fondly. “You don’t remember like the way they left the kitchen a mess or shoes by the door covered with snow.”

“Yeah... yeah, exactly,” he smiled sadly. “Do you have a sister?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I... I had some really close friends though. We... I,” she swallowed. Admitting it was all her fault, out loud, was an entirely different thing. “I left them behind... because...” she shrugged. “Y’know.”

Carter watched her curiously for a moment. It was clear he didn't know. “The writing class—we’re in that writing class together,” he recognized.

Then she knew, he sat by the window. His partner incorrectly answered a lot of questions. “Oh, that’s right,” she nodded.

“Do you have any theories on who wrote that Jump thing? My partner in class and I have been trying to figure it out for months. It’s been published you know.”

She did know. She had been paid fifteen hundred dollars for its publication after Addie insisted that she submit it to a magazine two months ago. But she didn’t pay much mind to it. It hurt a lot. She thought about lying though. Maybe even saying it was Addie. She had two siblings at home and Carter was very cute. She would probably fall in love with him without even trying. She couldn’t wait to introduce them after the show. “Yeah, um... I actually... I wrote it.”

His eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Wow... wow,” he was staring at her like she did jump off the bridge she wrote about. “You know...that makes sense. I’ve never heard you talk, but... now, I’m not surprised... You speak the way you write.”

“How’s that?” She wondered curiously.

“It’s just... gentle, I guess,” he shrugged. “Like I feel like I want to tell you everything; I wanted to tell you everything after our professor read your story and I didn't know you,” he chuckled. “I met you what, three minutes ago? That's not normal.”

She smiled fondly. “I get that a lot.”

Harry told her all the time she was too nice—but not in a bad way. It was more so that she had an open, adorable face and just had the sweetest demeanor. You could talk a man into bed if y’wanted, kitten. He winked. Y’wouldn’t even have t’say anything; he would do all the talking.

Gently, he put his hand on her arm. “I hope you jump,” he said quietly, with a little squeeze as the curtain fell closed, and the lights dimmed. Her heart fluttered. He was meant for Addie.

“Can I introduce you to Addie after the show?” She whispered right as the emcee stood center stage with the microphone ready to get the show started.

“Good evening,” she said. "Our dancers--"

“Yeah?” He smiled so brightly she could see it in the dim light, whispering back to her. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Someone deserved a happily ever after anyway.

They were so destined for a happily ever after.

Carter wouldn’t leave her side. Brought her flowers every week and made sure she always had a jacket that he would carry in case it was cold. When she was studying, he would literally feed her dinner to make sure she had food in her stomach.

Their love was so pure she was jealous. She could only imagine how Harry would have taken care of her on nights she had to stay up all night. He probably would have turned the pages of her books or read to her out loud when her eyes were tired. Hell, he would have written essays for her only for her to rewrite them and correct them just for fun.

Carter helped them move their stuff from their dorm to the apartment, and then to the second apartment. Then when Addie’s parents’ friends asked if they would be willing to move to a different apartment so they could have an elderly couple move into the lower floor place he helped move them again.

“Hey gorgeous. How's my favorite matchmaker,” Carter winked at her as he walked into the apartment. He was a staple. So very much in love with Addie he walked in whenever he wanted and truly, she didn’t care. “Addie’s on her way home, I was going to make her mac and cheese, do you want some?”

God, Harry would love him.

“No thanks, I’ve got a shift in a bit. Just finishing my rough draft.”

“Awesome, well, let me know if I’m making too much noise.”

God, she loved him.

“Do you want... to hear it?” She asked. Harry used to read and listen to her poems and her prose. Her writing was like doodles on the edge of her notebooks but it felt like she was reading Harry a bedtime story. He would beg to hear something, anything. Sometimes she would just reread old stuff when she hadn’t written anything new, but he listened to it in awe like it was the first time he heard it anyway.

“Do you want to share?” He asked. Surprise coated his tone. He pulled the dishes out he was going to use and looked at her over the half wall between the kitchen and living room. “I’m game if you are. I just figured it was private.”

She ignored him and began to read. Recently she had been inspired to write about love that was hidden but love all the same. Something that Carter said back in the auditorium really resonated, made her want to write the way she used to. The way she wrote Jump. She talked about dance recitals that she hated and the way the people left muddy shoes on the floor. She wrote about how sometimes when she least expected it, she thought of the love that resided in the bathroom, a sticky note on the mirror telling her to have a good day. Putting a glass of water on the bedside table because she had a late night. Giggling at a message that was sent two days ago but made her smile as if it was sent a minute ago. How love was green eyes and dimples that always knew what to say even when she was down. She talked about love that was quiet and perfect because love didn’t need to be loud.

It took a moment to notice that it was silent in their apartment. She looked up and realized she couldn’t see Carter because her eyes were filled with tears. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re uh...” he shook his head. “You’re going to write the world’s greatest love story,” he smiled.

She snorted, laughed, crying still. "Yeah...yeah, no..." she wiped below her eyes unable to say anything else.

Carter walked over to the couch, set her precious notebook on the coffee table that had a heart on the inside cover with someone's name she shouldn't have written any longer. Then she sat beside his favorite matchmaker. He rubbed her back and told her it would all be okay.

She thought about how she hadn’t seen the love of her life in 382 days but she felt it as if she had fallen in love for the first time yesteday.

The first year was the hardest. But at least she could write again.

It made the second and third years pass in the blink of an eye. Aching for a love that was in her notebooks and in her head.

Harry’s coworker was waiting for him outside the coffee shop. His shift was over, but he had plans to finish his latest creation that morning. A caffeine jolt would be just what he needed before he headed home.

“Hey Lauren,” he smiled sweetly.

“Hi Harry,” she answered with a bright smile. Her voice was cheerful, and it reminded Harry of the girl he wanted to hear from more than anything.

“Any word?”

There were plenty of coffee shops in town. But Lauren was extremely helpful in his need for information—or at least she tried. He just wanted to know she was okay. Lauren had worked there for as long as they were old enough to have jobs. While she was always just on the other side of Harry’s circle of friends, he thought that she could get away with seeing Lauren and Harry might not ever know. He chose this one coffee shop, slightly out of his way, because he thought maybe if she was passing through, it might be the one place she chose—just to see an old friend.

Lauren was extremely helpful at first. Harry had stopped by the shop shortly after Gemma had talked to him in the park. It seemed like fate that he would run into her. Tried reaching out to her, trying to help Harry figure out why. In the end, it amounted to nothing. Not a word came back.

“No word,” her voice was quieter. Like she felt bad that she hadn’t heard anything.

So, he stopped asking. But the habit of visiting Lauren, it made him feel closer to her. In some small way.

He had two trays of drinks that he brought to Louis and Eleanor’s place. They were situated around the coffee table, waiting for a football game to start on TV. It was quiet while they listened to the pregame show and Harry found Sarah staring at him. “What?” He asked.

“You can’t fall in love with Lauren,” Sarah said.

Everyone groaned and agreed with the sentiment.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered as he took a sip of his drink.

“I would castrate you myself,” Eleanor assured him.

“M’not—”

“Harry wouldn’t do that,” Niall said defensively.

“Yeah, that was one of her best friends,” Mitch chimed in as well.

“I don’t—”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah said defensively. “I don’t want you to fall for Lauren just because she’s like her.”

Harry looked at his lap and shook his head. “M’not falling in love again,” he assured them. “As far as m’concerned... m’heart is taken.”

It was a stop light. The music beside him was loud. He scrolled through his phone aimlessly. Something he never did before she left. Why would he need to scroll when she was there? They created their own fun and entertainment. Now, it was the only thing that kept his tired mind occupied. Everything was to pass the time. He laughed when he was supposed to, smiled when he was supposed to. When he needed to move or help someone, he did.

But Harry was undecidedly different. He didn’t laugh the same way. He didn’t love the same anymore. How could he?

The music playing was a hit from ages ago—a song his mum loved and played a lot while he was growing up. If it wasn’t one of his favorites of his mum’s, he might not have looked up from his phone screen. But he did. Thank God, he did.

He dropped his phone. It clanked between his boots against the floor of the truck. His jaw fell slack. “Kitten?” He called instinctively. Her music was too loud, though. Plus, she was singing along. Tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the instruments behind the lyrics. Harry’s heart started to race. Like he was in a five-alarm fire. He opened the door without thinking and stepped into the stoplight traffic.

“Harry!” The light was still red, but it wouldn’t be for long. He knocked on her window causing her to jump and double-take as she looked toward him. It felt like Harry had sprinted a marathon in his gear. He was sweating, his breathing erratic.

How long had she been home? Was she home?

God, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

It was like the Earth flipped back to the correct magnetic field. All the pieces of his splintered heart slammed back together. He was overwhelmed with love for her. The 1,127 days that he had counted without her hadn’t passed since he last saw her—it was just yesterday that he saw her, right? She looked the same, beautiful as ever. She smiled; it was small. Almost like she didn’t mean to smile but it was a reflex. Harry smiled back—a reflex of his own at the sight of her. She never failed to make him smile. Even in his memories, the good, the bad, the awful day she left, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. His knuckles were still pressed to the window, refusing to move away from the piece of her that was finally physical and real in front of him. It felt like no time had passed. As if it was the very same day that she broke his heart, and they were just lucky to happen to bump into one another while running errands later that day.

“STYLES!” Shouted from behind him.

He blinked, the sound of horns honking returned. Her small smile disappeared, and she waved ever so slightly and started through the intersection. The line of cars beeping behind her. The line of cars behind the truck agitated and beeping as well behind his waiting partner.

Harry hopped back into the truck and watched her turn right at the next streetlight. As they passed the street, his eyes stayed glued to her turn, long after they passed the street. His coworker cleared his throat. “Was that...?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. The breath felt new; like he hadn’t really ever taken a deep breath in a really long time. As if he had been holding it for the last three years and he forgot what oxygen really felt like as it entered his lungs. “Yeah,” he repeated to himself.

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