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moonchild701 · 1 day

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Finders Keepers

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Dabi finds you knocked out in an alley at the end of your patrol. You're pretty, so he decides to keep you.

Pairing: Dabi/Hero Fem Reader

Content Warning: Noncon/Dubcon, Kidnapping, Nonconsensual Bondage. Spanking, Cunnilingus, Choking, Self Deprecation, Victim Blaming, Degradation, Mind Break, No use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: We're switching it now! :D

My Masterlist

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You groan when you come to, head pounding as a dull ache pulses across your body. You attempt to move your arm to your head, to at least try to ease the pain there.

Except, you can't move your arm.

What the fuck?

Tugging harder, your eyes snap open to find that your arms are restrained above your head in tight ropes. They dig into the soft skin of your arms, creating harsh red lines as you thrash in your restraints.

Your eyes quickly scan around the room, finding it unfamiliar. Though the room is dark, you can vaguely make out a bed in the corner of the room, with plain sheets covering it, and a small wooden dresser next to it. Other than that, the room is bare.

You try to stand properly, to plant your feet firmly, but the position of your arms doesn't allow for more than the tips of your toes to touch the floor. You shiver as the cool air causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. At some point, your clothes had been removed, leaving you in only your underwear.

You try to remember what the hell happened and how you ended up here... you remember being on patrol, and stopping a mugging, the victim running for safety. Then a thud and pain as your vision blurred while the mugger lifted your head, makimg you look into piercing, golden eyes and everything goes foggy after that. You believe he made his escape after that, and you think you vaguely remember another pair of piercing eyes on you; a pretty blue.

But then you let out a soft curse as you remember that it was at the end of your patrol, and no one would really know something is wrong until the next day, because you already signed out on your comms; the mugging just happened to occur right after that, on your way home, and it's not like you could just let it happen.

Fuck.

You grunt in annoyance, panic beginning to bubble up in your chest. Who the hell kidnapped you and what did they want? The numerous senarios flashes through your mind, none of them pleasant as you're both a Hero and woman.

Neither of those things were a good thing to be when kidnapped, but together is worse, especially when you can't use your quirk for whatever reason.

They probably injected you with supressants......

Just as you were about to try to pull on the rope again, the door to the room slammed open, smacking harshly against the wall. You flinch at the sudden sound, and the fluorescent light that floods the room after a sharp click, sensitive eyes shutting at the brightness.

And as much as you tried not to, you felt a trickle of fear go down your spine as you shook.

Get it together!, you mentaly reprimand yourself.

You try to activate your quirk again, in vain, you know, and as expected, nothing happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Finally awake, I see. You tryna use your quirk, Sweetheart? Cute~." a husky voice coos mockingly; menacingly. You squint your eyes open, narrowing them at the figure as they shut the door behind them, before strolling further into the room.

"Don't bother tryin', Dolly. I injected you with enough quirk cancellin' serum to last....a while." His grin is sharp and dangerous, and you supress a whimper at now knowing just who has you captive.

Tall, healthy skin contrasting against the dark burn scars, secured by silver staples, and tousled midnight hair falling over pretty cerulean eyes...

The villain Dabi.

You've been captured by the League of Villains, and no one has any way of knowing, especially not for a while.

Fuck.

As much as you fear your situation and fate, you refuse to show it, glaring at the villain, waiting for his next move, which just makes him smile wider staples tugging at the edges. You need to be ready for anything... there's obviously a reason they brought you here, right? But you had not an inkling of what it could be, because you've never actually interacted with any of them, only knowing who Dabi is because of his prolific rapsheet and defining looks.

It's hard to miss the scars, obviously.

You silently debate with yourself on whether or not to just ask, before deciding why not. It's not like it would actually change your situation.

"Why did the League take me? I've never had anything to do with you..." you ask warily, eyes trained on the villain as he stalks closer.

Now standing directly in front of your bound figure, his smirk softens. He grabs your face, fingers pressed into your cheeks teasingly, turning your head side to side, inspecting, making you freeze, your eyes wide on him.

"I did."

You almost didn't catch his murmured words, but when they process, it just confuses you even more.

"What?"

Piercing, azure eyes meet yours, hot and calculating.

You stare back helplessly into the villains eyes, as he says, "I took you. The League has nothin' to do with this." His voice low, thumb rubbing at your cheek, as he tilts his head. "They don't even know you're here."

Your heart rate quickens, because you don't know if that's better or worse.

"T-Then why—" You silently curse yourself for letting the nervous stutter slip, but you're quickly distracted.

You get your answer.

He releases his hold on your face to slide the hand down to tilt your chin up gently, his middle finger stroking over a pulse point, thumb rubbing at your botton lip, as the other hand brushes up your side, ghosting over the skin there, and he breathes, gaze locked on yours, "You're fuckin' gorgeous, Sweetheart. I just had to have you." Your lips part in shock as your breath hitches.

Ah. He's crazy.

You don't want to be here, you want to be home, curled up warm and happy in the softness of your bed.

Fear washes over you, cold and consuming, and you have to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes

Because Dabi's lips curl into a smirk as he his eyes drag over your shivering frame, squirming in the ropes that still hold you suspended from the ceiling.

The hand on your chin releases to slide down, over your throat to your chest as he cups your breast through your bra, the other hand sliding down your side, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You gasp at the touch, desperately trying to move away from the hot hands violating your skin.

"N-no, no, get a-away from me." you say shakily. You're confused, frightened, and worried about what's going to happen to you.

This can't be happening.

Dabi laughs, soot tinted and condescending, quirking an eyebrow at you. His lips curl into a playful smirk as he gropes at your breast before grabbing your hips in both hands, pulling your suspended body flush against his, burying his face in your neck, rough scars and staples grazinging your skin.

And oh, you could feel the thick, hard bulge on your leg as he presses his thigh up against your core. You immediately start struggling against your restraints.

"No, no no no—"

Dabi sighs against your pulse, mismatched lips grazing the skin there

"Shut the fuck up, little hero." he murmurs, his hips moving against you as he slides you to do the same, grinding you on his thigh. You whimper at the friction, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Hah" his hot breath on your skin raises goosebumps where it hits,

Why, why, why—

Without warning, you drop; the scent of something burning wafts through the air and you realize it's the rope.

Before you have a chance to recover, Dabi drags you over to the bed by the short piece of rope like a leash, forcing you to stumble your way after him. He throws you roughly down onto the hard mattress, securing your hands to the head board with thick handcuffs after burning away the rest of the rope.

You choke on a sob as you struggle to get away from him. Looming over you, he burns away the straps of your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side, before heated hands are roaming and groping your flesh reverantly, familiarizing himself with your skin as he leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You clamp your lips shut, but he just squeezes your cheeks to pry it open, tongue slipping in, licking into your mouth.

In a last ditch show of defiance, you bite down on the muscle, hard, the coppery taste of blood painting your tongue.

He pulls away with a curse, glaring up at you with a sharp coldness as he chuckles darkly, and with the blood trickling down the side of his mouth, he looks like the deranged villain you know him to be.

Wiping up the trail of blood with his thumb, he looks at the crimson staining his skin with amusement, before popping it into his mouth, sucking it off, and pulling it out with a wet pop. "Looks like you need some discipline, hm?" He hums, pulling away.

Before you can fully process what he means, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your arms to cross awkwardly and uncomfortably, before gripping the waistband of your panties on both sides and tugging; his blunt nails dragging lightly over your skin as he pulls it over the swell of your ass, and down and off your legs.

And you shake, as your last piece of flimsy modesty is stripped from you and thrown carelessly to the side somewhere.

Where is everyone? Why hadn't they come to save you yet? How long had you even actually been missing for?

The thought is immediately cut off as Dabi lands a sharp smack to the exposed flesh of your ass cheeks.

Shocked, you gasp at the sting, pleading, "No, please, d-don't—!" Helpless against the villain, you whimper as he kneads and squeezes your ass, soothing the sting, decietfully gentle and placating, before your vision blurs as he lands another harsh smack against the soft flesh, followed quickly by another. Then another. Then another.

You sob pitifully, body convulsing in an attempt to escape Dabi's stinging touch; the sensitive skin turning such a lovely red.

Your breath hitches as you're suddenly flipped back over onto your back, and then Dabi is on you; looming over and surrounding you, face close enough to yours to feel his breath fanning against your lips, and you're not sure when he got rid of his shirt, but the heat wafting off of him is almost suffocating.

"Learned your lesson?" He smiles expectantly, sarcastically, and you just continue you sob.

"If you don't shut up, I'll have to fuckin' gag you." Dabi's voice is a harsh whisper, and you're viciously reminded that this man could turn the whole room into an inferno within seconds, turn you to ash in less. Though, he doesn't need to because his eyes are the same color as his flames and you already feel like you're being burned alive with them trained on you.

He grabs your face and growls, commanding, "Behave.", and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip before slipping in, and this time you let him, but you don't kiss back, though he doesn't seem to care.

You whimper when his hands wrap around your thighs, hot and firm as he forces them open, slotting himself between your legs, and he licks the sound out of your mouth.

He explores you warm mouth like he's trying to memorize it, kissing you stupid, and you're breathless by the time he's done. He eases down your chest, mouthing and licking and sucking at your bare tits, hot tongue playing with your nipples; the metal of his piercing was an overwhelming surprise to the sensitive buds, before moving back up the column of your throat. And you can't help but whine as scarred hands roam your thighs and up your sides, salty tears rolling pitifully down your cheeks, as you try and fail to calm your sniffling.

Though, when he speaks again, you shiver in more than just fear.

"Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whispers against the shell of your ear, voice velvet, breath hot. "You'd love to be gagged and choked, like the sweet little whore I know you are, hm?"

Something between a mix of shock and shame wracks through you, as arousal pools in your stomach at his words.

No.

No, you can not be turned on right now. Fucking hell, Dabi is a man, a villain, who kidnapped you, for fucks sake, and now he's using your body as he sees fit. Nothing about this is okay.

And yet.

And yet, warmth creeps up your neck and cheeks as your pussy weeps, clenching around nothing.

In your dazed, shocked arousal, you don't notice what was coming until it's too late, as Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth yet again. He sucks on your bottom lip, biting into the plush flesh as a sharp smack against your inner thigh makes you jolt in surprise.

"I asked you a fuckin' question, slut. You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Dabi's eyes are sadistic, wolfish smirk on his lips.

You tremble, your body warm all over as shame washes over you. You could still feel the sting of his slap to your thigh, could see the skin reddening and the bruises already forming along your chest.

A sharp squeeze to your thigh, much too close to your heat makes you squeak.

"N-no, no, I—"

His thumb brushes through the folds of your pussy, to your clit, as he bites down on the junction of your neck, forcing a moaning squeal out of you.

"No? Why're you so fuckin' wet then, hm slut?" He growls into your throat as he licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive skin there, rubbing his thumb against your nub, making you leak.

Your breathing picks up as you tug on your bindings in an attempt to distract yourself as you try oh so desperately to contain your noises, to not react.

And then you feel his thumb petting over your entrance, making you gasp and shake your head pleadingly as the thick digit slips in. You thrash and pull at the cuffs locking you in place, as the reality of your situation truly sets in.

"No, no. please, don't- I don't want—mmf!" You plead, getting cut off by a large hand cupping over your mouth. You try to scream and thrash against it, but he's too strong. As you feel the thick thumb pumping in and out of you, easily because of your slick, you sob, beginning to accept what's going to happen.

Your body would react to his touches, to the stimulation, it's only natural...but this is wrong.

So, so wrong.

But it feels so, so good.

You wail at the thought, feeling dirty and ashamed of yourself; too distracted to notice when Dabi pulls the thumb out, popping it into his mouth, groaning at your taste, before reaching to the side, and the dresser. You don't notice anything, until Dabi squeezes your cheeks, holding you still and forcing your mouth open. You make a pitiful, confused sound and he makes a show of making sure you see your panties in his hand, before he stuffs it into your mouth. You scream into the cloth, thrashing, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Dabi just presses his fingers tighter into your cheeks, slamming your head back against the bed roughly. It of course doesn't hurt, but it does distract you long enough for him to cover your stuffed mouth with a thick strip of tape.

You scream against the gag, shaking your head, eyes wide; begging.

"I fuckin' warned you to shut up. No use in your pathetic beggin', baby, you belong to me, now." Dabi cooed, mocking; tapping your cheek condescendingly, before scarred hands are fondling and groping, pinching and squeezing, wherever they wander on your writhing body.

You sob as he roughly palms your tits, sucking bruises into your flesh, your tears flowing freely, eyes glassy and clear. Gorgeous. Licking up the salty tear track on your cheek, he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you cry, Sweetheart. Be a good girl, and let me make you feel good, yeah?", pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

And he will. He knows you want this, you just don't know it yet. Don't worry, he'll make sure to show you.

Swiping his pointer and middle finger across your other wet cheek, gathering your tears, he strokes your wet cunt with them, before slipping the two long fingers into you in one slow push. You scream, and you don't know whether it's out of despair or desire, but you couldn't deny that as fucked up as it is, Dabi fucking your literal tears into you was one of the hottest things ever, your cunt pulsing at just the thought of it.

Dabi groans as you cry on his fingers, barely giving you a second to breathe as they're dragging along your walls and crooking deep, before he's sliding it back out, and pumping into the tight warmth again and again.

Leaning forward, he places a kiss against your gag, before trailing kisses and nips down your throat, chest and stomach as he bullies a third finger in. You reflexively clench around him when he kisses your mound, the stretch making you breathe sharply, before he throws your leg over his shoulder; pressing the tip of his scalding tongue against your clit, rubbing in circles, then slipping in, beside his fingers.

And your brain blanks.

You give in. It's not like anything is gonna change anytime soon, so, well. Why not enjoy it.

Besides, if you say you've never at least thought the villain was hot, no pun intended, you're lying to yourself.

So, you let go.

Even with the acceptance, you feel embarrassment and self loathing flood through you, as you keen, high and needy, as you grind down on him, shoving your pussy further into his face, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue, which....was a very pleasant surprise for Dabi. After all, he's the oh so, big, bad, scary villain that kidnapped you; that's violating you.

Yet here you are, grinding and moaning against him, like a needy little slut.

Pumping his fingers roughly, his other hand digging harshly into the flesh of your thigh, he groans against you,"Fuck, not complainin' so much now, hm?", dragging blunt nails along your sensitive skin and his hot tongue up your clit. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll fuck the thoughts right outta that pretty little head."

You moan lowly as your pussy pulses around his fingers, helplessly leaking at his words.

"Shit, Sweetheart. You're swallowin' my fingers so fuckin' good. Can't wait to feel you 'round my cock.", he breathes, hot breath hitting your swollen clit, pressing one last kiss to it before pulling away; your hips involuntarily jumping to chase his hot mouth, the cuffs rattling against the headboard.

Dabi smirks, his eyes wide, huffing out a laugh of disbelief, as you whine at the loss of contact, before pressing hot kisses along your hip bone, muttering into the skin there. "You're really just a little whore, aren't you? Actin' all innocent earlier like you didn't want it," he says mockingly, but you can hear the underlying awe in his voice, before he curls his fingers, twisting them, as he makes his way up your abdomen and chest; and he continues, "but really, you're just a little cockslut, huh?"

You moan loudly into the gag at that, but shake your head rapidly, denying it even as you know deep down that it's true; as you both know it to be true.

It becomes even more clear when he drills you with his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit, and you're a mess beneath him; writhing and moaning, and crying and grinding as he brutally nudges against that sweet spot inside of you; all while he peppers open mouthed kisses along your chest, taking his time, tasting your skin, sucking and nipping at your pearled nipples, his tongue hot and slick on you.

You moan and whimper into your gag, head lolling back to hide behind your raised arm at the continued the abuse to your sensitive buds and cunt.

And then they're suddenly taken away, as he releases your tit with a wet pop and withdraws his fingers with a squelch.

Your hips twitch and lift from the bed, chasing him in a silent, desperate plea for more. Dabi could see your stretched hole, clenching on nothing as it just wants to be filled.

He's more than happy to oblige.

"Aww you want me to fuck you, baby? Shit, look at you. Fuckin' needy, mm? Done pretendin' you weren't desperate for me to stuff you?", he teases, hungry eyes betraying his calm demeanor. You tremble, feeling so empty, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're already so cute, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself when I have you cryin' on my cock, Dolly." He groans, palming himself through his pants, as you wiggle your hips enticingly, legs spread and your puffy pussy on show for him.

And Dabi laughs, breathy and fond, "Slut. Fuck, c'mere." He says, the sound of his belt unbuckling and hitting the floor with a clang just makes you somehow gush more.

You look down in anticipation as scarred hands grip your thighs, holding them spread. Your cunt throbs at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, long and so fucking hard; precum beading at the tip.

He grips his length, tapping his sticky cock head against your clit, dragging through your folds, coating it in your juices.

"Relax for me, sweetheart, don't wanna break you, hm?" He purrs, before pushing the thick mushroom head inside lightly, making you whimper.

Dabi's grin is predatory as he slides in all at once, in one slow drag, impaling you on his fat cock. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him so obediently, "Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes wide and glossy, you couldn't help but moan at his words, at the delicious stretch, at the hunger in his eyes.

His thickness stretches you so good, almost painfully, but you could take it.

You were his good girl now, he would make you take it.

But you don't really have much of a choice now, do you?

You choke on a sob, body shaking and hands clenched into tight fists where they rest in the cuffs. Because the thought should bring nothing but disgust and fear, yet all you feel now is shameful want, as your pussy tightens around him, gushing.

"Haah, you take me so good. Mm, such a good girl, c'mon..." He mumbles, grinding deeper and deeper into you, his hips flush against you.

Your whimper is sweet even muffled by the gag, and Dabi's composure slips.

He pulls back before shoving back into you roughly, making you sharply breathe. Not giving you any time to catch your breath, he thrusts deep into your tight hole, snapping his hips mercilessly. A scarred hand grips at your tit, the other bouncing and swaying lewdly with every brutal thrust. The gag muffles your cries and whimpers, but the scream you let out when he hits your sweet spot is still loud.

You grind down to meet his thrusts, pleasure completely taking over as all rational thoughts are fucked out of you; unable to think of anything but the way his cock feels, stirring up your insides, reaching so deep you swear you could feel it in your stomach, and the single-minded need for more.

Dabi moans, slowing his thrusts, admiring the way your hips roll sinfully, bouncing yourself on the villain's cock. "Fuck, pretty little slut...", he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you're bein' honest, hm?" His hand gropes and pinches your breast, as he licks his lips, eyes trained on you.

When he took you, he certainly hadn't expected that you'd be such an eager slut, but he's definitely not complaining.

You whine, the shallow, uneven thrusts, making you needy for more, faster, deeper, as you rhythymically clench around him.

Releasing your breast, he wraps the heated hand around the expanse of your throat, squeezing lightly, feeling your quick pulse beneath his fingers as he rolls his hips to meet yours, slow and deep.

You moan and choke behind your gag, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Dabi smirks cruelly, finally speeding up his delicious thrusts; your body forced to move further up the bed with the speed and strength, and he just drags you back down to take it, your little display of hedonistic pleasure inciting him.

A whimper escapes you as you feel the warm coil of pleasure spread through you, you're so close. Your thighs shake, your moans spilling in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pleading.

"Fuck, look at you. Gettin' fucked by a big, bad villain and you fuckin' like it. Your little Hero friends know you're such a goddamn whore?" Dabi grunts out, cock hitting your sweet spot so, so good, fucking you so, so deep, as he pummels your insides, giving your throat another squeeze.

You let out a choked, sobbing moan, back arching from the bed as you feel yourself just on the edge of your release. You look up at Dabi pleadingly, eyes pretty and glossy, wide and blown out, almost completely black with lust; your chest heaving as your cunt pulses around him.

"You wanna cum, little hero? Squeezing me like you wanna milk me." Dabi groans, hips beginning to stutter.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and begging, tears streaming down your cheeks, moaning desperately against your gag; the panties soaked with your spit and drool.

"Yeah? Fuck, you want my cum, baby? Shit, do it. Cum for me, slut." Dabi moans, pistoning into you, muttering, "Wanna see it, wanna see you fall apart on my cock"

The pleasure burns.

Back arching off the bed, toes curling, you cum with a scream; clamping down on his cock as you gush and squirt around him, your eyes rolling back; vision going white.

Dabi fucks you through your orgasm as he chases his own, growling, "That's it baby, fuck. I'll fill you up real good, and if it spills, I'll just fuck it back in. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your pussy squelches loudly, his thighs smacking wetly against yours as Dabi continues fucking you, frantic in his desperation to paint your insides with his cum.

The feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sight of you cumming from just his cock was enough to push him completely over the edge with a moaning curse. Buried as deeply as he could be inside of you, hips flushed and grinding against yours, his thick, hot cum pumps into you, marking you from the inside as his; branding you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, not pulling out just yet; keeping you full and plugged. Chests rising and falling in heavy pants, you bask in the afterglow of what was probably the best orgasm you've ever had.

He gently removes your gag and unlocks the cuffs, freeing your hands, rubbing soothingly at the irritated skin of your wrists, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin, before trailing his lips up your arm, over your shoulder and throat, to your own.

The kiss is slow, languid and savouring, and you moan softly into his mouth as he licks into yours.

He groans softly, before kissing down your throat, breathing out a short, hot laugh against the myriad of bruises littering your neck and mumbling against your skin, "Fuck, I can't let you go after that. I'm keepin' you, gonna take care of you, and if you don't love me now, I'll just have to teach you, I promise, Sweetheart. You'll be my perfect little cock sleeve.", nuzzling into you.

The words don't match his saccharine tone as they send a trickle of fear down your spine at the dark promise, but the fog of arousal clouds your mind, and you slump back against the sheets as he looms over you, eyes piercing through you.

You feel his hips begin to roll against you again as he grinds into your abused cunt, making you gasp.

He grins. He'll fuck you until you're gaping and dripping with his cum, cock branding his name into your sweet spot and he'll make sure you never forget who you belong to.

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#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #my fics #mdni #mha smut #bnha smut

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trippinsorrows · 1 day

Text

looking through your eyes + eighteen

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy and violent at points. please read the cw/tw's carefully in order to make the best informed decision regarding your mental ability to handle such heavy topics.

cw/tw: angst, violence, torture (gore), (light) fluff, ptsd episode, character being triggered, and references to childhood sexual assault

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

masterlist + story playlist

words: 10k

Solana knows Roman well.

She knew to start off the letter the way she did, asking for him to be open minded, because she knew exactly what his answer would be.

No.

It’s the same answer he still has even after her logical explanation. It’s a selfish thing. He’s a selfish bastard at heart because despite her being vulnerable about her mental state and making a solid point, he still wants and plans to say no.

Still plans come and take her home in a week.

And while he has his reasoning, believing that she can continue her healing outside of some mental facility, it’s also for his own good. He just wants her home. He wants to not have the house be so quiet and empty. To not have to be reminded of her absence in everything from the lack of the aroma of her delicious cooking to Dulce yelping and whimpering whenever he walks in the door home from work without Solana beside him.

He just misses her, and he wants her home.

He understands where she’s coming from and agrees she could benefit from continuing to talk to someone, to definitely stay on medication.

But, those things can continue without her being away from home.

There’s also the matter of safety. Yes, Roman went above and beyond what was probably necessary to ensure she has a copious amount of protection, but that’s still not as safe as her being with him.

And he’s almost certain that the facility she’s talking about is the same one Stratus mentioned to him. The place that’s an hour away.

That’s too fucking far.

From their home, Roman can make it to the hospital in ten minutes, if need be.

Solana being an hour away from him just isn’t a fucking option.

He needs her…..she needs to be close to him.

He’ll just have to help her understand that.

But, all of that is easy.

What’s not easy is the other major takeaway from her letter.

I love you, Ro.

In all of his thinking, perhaps overthinking, regarding his thoughts and feelings about his wife, never did it really occur to him that she could feel the same. He knew she cared about him. She’s said as such to him before. But, for whatever reason, he never allowed himself to imagine that she could love him.

And that she could love him without expecting anything in return. Because she believes him incapable of loving her because of his own trauma, and that’s not entirely wrong.

He does love her.

Fuck, he loves the living shit out of her.

But, he can’t act on it.

Even with this unexpected twist. Her loving him, which fucks with his head too. The why of it.

There’s not a lot to love, if he’s being honest.

He protects her. Keeps her safe. Gives her that safe space. Beyond that, there’s not really anything else.

Her standards must be so low.

Regardless, Roman can’t allow this new piece of information to change or impact his decision.

He can’t openly reciprocate her feelings.

Even….even if he sure as hell feels the same. It’s too risky. Too dangerous.

He just can’t.

Roman may love her, but he can never tell her he loves her.

It just has to be this way.

________

Ryan Alexander

Tyler Hawkins

Two men whose lives have been intertwined in various ways in the almost 60 years they’ve walked this earth. It started with a meeting in college, both men playing for the same baseball team, having a few of the same classes together, even pledging to the same fraternity.

They would end up in the same graduating class and go on to open up their own private security company that offered protective services for upscale clientele. Celebrities, athletes, even politicians.

But…..for the right amount of money, they could do more than just protect lives.

They could take them too.

The company easily and quickly made its name known through the right or maybe wrong places. Information falling in the lap of parties who were less interested in safety and more interested in murder.

It’s how Xavier Miller got in touch with them. How Solana’s father hired them to take out his wife and daughter after learning of her plan to run away and steal his children away from him, more his son than anything. He really didn’t give a shit about Solana.

Never did.

It was why when the hit failed to take out both Nina and Solana, Xavier was able to negotiate so that instead of paying the remaining debt due after the deposit. He got them to agree to slash it in half, leaving him owing 250k. The problem was as it always has been though. Xavier lacks vision, lacks long-term vision. He didn’t think about how finances could change for the negative between the time he made the deal and when payment would be due.

Because when that day arrived, he lacked the sufficient funds. But while Xavier may lack good financial and investment knowledge, he makes up for it in craftiness.

He formed a new deal. One that truly gave all three men a win-win. Xavier’s debt would be cleared, and Ryan and Alexander would be able to enjoy indulging in one of their favorite sexual pastimes. A privilege they can usually only pursue when traveling overseas where child sex slavery runs a lot more rampant and unregulated.

By luck though, they got their fill domestically in the form of an innocent, 12 year-old little girl.

A virgin.

Xavier’s daughter.

Solana Miller

Now known as Solana Reigns, the wife of the infamous Roman Reigns. The same man who Ryan and Tyler have no idea has been behind the absolute hell they’ve been through in the past almost two weeks. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, subjected to an unauthorized but ultimately approved (by Roman) beating by Jimmy and Jey before they were reunited with Xavier’s ain’t shit ass who had also received a long overdue beating from both Roman and the twins.

That beating, however, was nothing compared to the beginning stages of their demise, a version and level of hell only few experience, but something these fuckers have front seats for.

Roman is methodical with his torture, and this might be the most determined he’s ever been to maximize pain.

He’s going to ensure they only take their last breath when he feels it’s time, when he’s exhausted any and all ways to extend their life in order to extend their suffering.

And while many would think it started with the beatings, that’s far too simple, too easy. And Roman is neither of those things. He’s calculated and borderline sadistic when the occasion calls for it, and there’s not been a more deserving occasion for him to act on his dark, evil impulses than this.

So, it was only fitting that all three men, the rapists and the son of a bitch who organized it all, know exactly what it’s like to experience what they put Solana through.

And that’s exactly what Roman organized. Having all three men dumped and left defenseless in a maximum security prison. Whatever happened, fucking happened.

And judging by the battered, stunned, borderline traumatized expressions on their cut, brusied faces, exactly what Roman wanted them to experience is precisely what they fucking got.

For almost two weeks straight.

Jimmy and Jey toss the three men down on the ground before Roman before moving to stand behind him on either side.

“Ya’ll like fucking little girls, don’t you?” Jimmy sneers, Roman not even needing to look at his cousin to know he’s livid. “So what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

“Don’t like it when your assess the ones on the receiving end, huh?” Jey taunts. Fitting.

But, now…..now it’s time for the real pain to begin. Roman lifts his hand to signify his desire from silence. The twins go quiet almost immediately.

The Tribal Chief turns up his nose as Ryan spits up blood onto the concrete floor. Granted, it won’t make much of a difference. When Roman is done with them, the room will be bathed red.

He steps forward.

“August 7th, 2005 and September 8th, 2007.” Roman shrugs and asks the men, “what’s significant about these dates?” When he doesn’t receive an answer, he takes his gun and aims it for Tyler, emptying the bullet into his knee. The man howls in pain and begins to cry. Roman scowls. Pathetic bitch. “I aksed a fucking question.”

He gaps,, forcing out through closed eyes. “I–I don’t know.”

Roman crouches down in front of them, ignoring the stench of piss and perspiration emanating off their pathetic bodies. “August 7th, 2005. A mother and daughter were attacked. Stabbed. Mother died trying to protect her daughter. Daughter survived. She was ten-years-old.” Roman looks away at the adjacent wall, jaw clenching a bit as he recalls the next part. “”September 8th, 2007. Two men break into the house and spend hours gang raping a child in her own fucking bedroom before beating her half to death and leaving her for dead.” Dead fucking silence. “She was 12-years-old.” He turns his empty, stoic gaze back onto them. “Sound fucking familiar now?”

“You carried out the rape,” he gestures to the set of crying rapists and then a numb looking Xavier. “And you arranged it.” Roman shrugs, rolling his big shoulders. “Seemed only fucking fair you three got a taste of what you put her through.” He then chuckles. “Now, I am a fair man. A fair Tribal Chief.” In a matter of seconds though, his disposition completely shifts, changes into something cold, heartless. “But, you don’t get that. You don’t get that fairness. You don’t fucking deserve it. You tortured her. You made her life a living fucking hell.”

“But you know where you really fucked up?” He reaches his arm out, pointing toward the sledgehammer, one of the twins placing it in his hand. Roman stands up and kicks Tyler backwards, hesitating not a second as he brings it down to his knees, one by one, effectively and immediately shattering both. “You did it to my wife.” Roman taunts over the sound of the man crying. He then moves to Ryan, aware of the knee he already shot, sticking with one to avoid too much blood. Can’t have the bitch bleeding out just yet. “That twelve year-old girl was my wife.” When he gets to Xaveir, he exerts a special amount of energy to strengthen the impact of his blow as he demolishes the older man’s knees. “That ten year old-girl was my wife!”

Roman tosses the sledgehammer to the side as someone has the audacity to utter out a pained, “p–please.”

That infuriates Roman more than what should be humanly possible. “Please?” He sees the word came from Tyler. Snarling, Roman jumps over the man, raining a blow so heavy that it breaks his nose, the sickening crack sounding through the air. “Is that what she said when you fucking held her down and raped her!”

The thought alone results in Roman continuing to punch the man until his fist is painted red and Tyler is clearly on the verge of losing consciousness.

Standing back up, he huffs, speaking to the rapists, “17 years. She’s suffered for seventeen years because of you.” He points to a barely there Xavier. “And 29 years because of you.” Roman’s upper lip curls a bit as he swears, “if I could torture you all for that long, I fucking would, but I can’t, so days will have to suffice.”

He’s filled with another level of rage when the cries and pleads for mercy intensify. “Shut up!” He then forcefully demands of the twins, “bring him in!”

Jey, he thinks, disappears for a few minutes only to return with an also bruised, battered Wes. Roman scoffs with disgust as Xavier looks horrified at the presence and sight of his son.

He coughs out, ribs probably broken or at least fractured. And if they’re not, Roman will make sure they are before the end of the night. “Pl—please don’t do—”

Roman has heard enough. This piece of shit has the fucking audacity to beg and plead for the life of his son but couldn’t even protect his own fucking daughter?

Fuck that.

Fury fills and controls the Head of the Table as he yanks up a barely conscious Wes and throws him against the brick wall, the impact loud enough for the sound of his shoulder popping to fill the room. Roman then grabs the sledgehammer again and rains it down on not only his knees but his hands as well, effectively smashing them, resulting in grotesque hairline fracture, bones protruding from his skin..

Xavier cries out and begs Roman to stop, which only fuels his tirade even more. Drives him to continue his brutal assault. Roman slams his fist onto Wes’s face, breaking his jaw before Roman squeezes the fucking life out of Wes’s neck and slams him again against that same brick wall.

And without second thought, as Wes fights to remain conscious, face almost unrecognizable at this point, Roman reaches for his eye, using his middle and index finger to gouge out his eyeballs one by one, ignoring the horrified screams of both father and son.

Xavier is full on sobbing but practically screams when Wes body drops to the ground like a ragdoll, and Roman tosses the bloody eyeballs toward Xavier.

“Waterboard him!” Roman directs to the twins who don’t hesitate to drag a crying Wes out of the room by his limp arm, most likely broken in the midst of Roman’s vicious beating. Breathing uneven, Roman flips his hair back that had come out of his bun and turns his attention back on the three older men.

“I’m going to make you all suffer the same fucking way you made her suffer,” he vows, every intention on maximixing pain in a way he’s never done before. “You’ll be wishing for something as fucking nice as hell when I’m done with you.”

________

Roman has just finished skinning a patch out of Ryan’s abdomen, the chunk of skin joining that of Tyler and Xavier’s slab of skin and other dismembered body parts.

Wes is up next on the list.

The fucker strapped to the chair has gone unconscious, but his pulse is still relatively strong, so Roman continues. He’s done this too many times to be deterred by someone tapping out.

Tossing the bloodied knife and saw to the side of the room with the rest of the blood stained tools of torture, he grabs the drill and starts to navigate which drill bit to use when the door opens.

Right away, he’s tempted to use the object in hand on whoever was stupid enough to interrupt him.

Roman turns to see none other than his aggravating ass cousin holding a phone. Of course. Attention back to the task at hand, he bites out, “I told you not to fucking bother me. Whoever it is, I’m busy.”

Jey is about as moved by Roman’s tone as he is by the bloody, gory scene before him. Indifferent but still eager to leave, he instead provides the additional information that he knows will absolutely snatch Roman’s attention.

“It’s Bautista.” Sure enough, Jey can see his cousin’s big shoulders go still. “He—”

Roman stands up, tossing the drill to the side and quickly removing the gloves that are caked in blood, skin, and other anatomical matter. He stalks toward Jey, issuing his harsh demand,“give me the phone.”

Jey does as such, sucking his teeth when some of the blood flicks on him. “Man, that’s nasty as hell.”

Roman doesn’t comment, just walks out the room for privacy and demands to the man on the other end, “what happened?”

Bautista doesn’t hesitate and is quick with an easy response. “She wants to talk to you, sir.”

There’s only a slight decrease in concern levels that Roman experiences in hearing that Solana wants to speak to him versus Bautista having to inform him that something has happened. She’s conscious. That’s good. “Put her on.”

Bautista doesn’t say anything, but Roman hears what sounds like slight movement and hushed voices. It’s followed up with a quiet sniffle and even quieter, “hey….” Another sniffle as her volume increases ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, it’s—it’s so late.”

Roman has no idea what time it is nor does he care what time it is. He just wants to know why she’s crying and who he has to kill. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She takes a shaky breath and follows it up with an even shakier answer, weighed down with the heavy emotions she’s clearly struggling with at this moment. “We—we—we talked about my…my rape in therapy today, and I’ve never—I’ve never actually spoken about it to anyone, and I thought—I thought I was fine, but now…..”

His chest suddenly tightens. “Are you thinking about—”

“No.” Her answer is the firmest he’s heard in the conversation so far. Serious and solid. “Not that. I just—I can’t sleep because now I’m thinking about….about it, and I just….I wanted to hear your voice, and I’m sorry—you were probably asleep.”

No. No, he wasn’t. Far from it. And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter.

She comes first.

No matter what.

“I’m gonna come see you.”

“No.” The sniffling resumes as does her tendency to try to make herself as less of a ‘problem’ as she can, no matter how many times Roman tries to explain she never has and never will be anything of the sort. “I’ll–I’ll be okay.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, he’s not taking the risk because Roman cannot physically handle hearing her crying, hearing her so upset and not be able to do anything about it.

“I’m coming, Solana. Give me a half hour, okay?” He’d head there straight away right now, but the idea of coming to her after spending house torturing men, blood, bone, and other unidentifiable matter splattered all over him, is the last thing she needs. “I’ll be there.”

There’s another delay, and he’d bet any money it’s her trying to hold back the tears as best she can. “Oh–kay.”

He swallows, asking, “can you put Bautista back on the phone?”

Again, more shifting on the other end. “Hello?”

“Don’t take your fucking eyes off her.” Roman’s tone is hardened and leveled. “I’ll be there shortly.” He doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t need to provide instructions on how to make sure his wife is kept safe.

Bautista already knows what the fucking deal is.

Roman can’t get cleaned and showered fast enough, ridding his body of all of the telltale signs that he’d spent the majority of the day torturing his wife’s family and rapists. She doesn’t need to know that.

He’s impatient for the drive that feels much longer than the twenty minutes it actually is. A large part of that being that he just wants to get to Solana.

She’d called him. She’d reached out to him.

The same thing he wishes she had done that night. Something he still feels strangely about but will learn to sort through later. Not now.

Now his focus is on just making sure she’s alright.

That she’s safe.

Roman walks in with purpose, uninterested in Bautista’s short briefing, which is essentially more or less him just confirming that Solana hasn’t been left alone, another guard watching her as Bautista escorted Roman into the premises that’s otherwise locked down given it’s almost midnight.

Not that he gives a fuck.

Roman finds Solana sitting on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest. But, the minute her teary eyes land on him, she’s moving up from said bed, rushing over to him. Naturally, Roman catches her, holding her as she silently cries into his chest.

He’s gonna rip that fucking therapist a new one.

“I’m sorry—” Roman hates hearing her apologize. He hates seeing her upset, but the fact that she’s apologizing for feeling the way she does is a different layer of irritation. It reminds him of how she used to be. Makes him realize just how much and deep this regression has been. “I just—I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He’s just about to once again remind her that she has nothing to be sorry about when her last statement snatches his attention. Alarms him a bit. “Solana….I need you to be honest with me—”

And she must know where he’s headed, because she pulls back, holding his gaze as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to hurt myself. I promise. I just….I just don’t want to be by myself.”

It makes sense, and he believes her. Somewhat. There’s still that part of him that’s skeptical. He’s not sure if that part will ever go away either.

Solana swallows and licks her lips, asking in that tentative voice, “will—will you stay with me tonight?”

It’s an easy answer. Something he already decided the minute he heard her crying on the other end of the phone.

“Yes.” She looks so massively relieved by that one word. “But not here.” And before the confusion fully sets in, he clarifies, “I’m taking you home.”

As expected, she looks surprised and torn, “Roman, I—”

“You get released in three days, Sol. I’ll bring you back tomorrow afternoon, but tonight, you need to be home. You don’t need to be here.” Roman isn’t a fucking professional, but he knows his wife. Knows that what she’s looking for is the feeling of security. There’s no more secure place than with him in their home. And even with Dulce.

Solana seems to be on the same page, nodding and offering no further protest. “Oh–okay.”

As she’s barely allowed any personal items, it takes less than twenty minutes for her to be ready to go, Roman directing Bautista to handle any issues that arise regarding her departure.

Roman is sure Stratus or even Gail will have issues with his decision. He’s also 100% sure that he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Solana needs to get away.

She needs to be home.

She needs to be with him.

And, he’s proven correct, because the minute she walks into the house, she’s looking over at Roman, asking, “where is she?”

“Our room.”

Solana can’t seem to move up the stairs fast enough, Roman behind her, partially eager to see this long awaited reunion. He’s not sure who will be happier: Solana or her puppy.

It’s about a tie though, because the minute Solana moves over to the side of the bed where Dulce is sleeping and gets on her knees, carefully petting the puppy, Dulce’s head snaps up.

And instantly, she jumps at Solana.

They’re both crying, Solana holding onto Dulce who is a mixture of whimpers, licks, and that tail of hers excitedly wagging.

Solana says something in her to Spanish, something Roman can’t make out, but he doesn’t need to make it out. It’s obviously something moving.

Something healing almost.

Solana looks up at him, laughing and crying as Dulce tries to lick her face. Her voice cracks a bit as she says to him, “thank you.”

Roman nods, that same, warm, unfamiliar emotion building up. Fucking feelings.

Nodding, he says nothing, watching as she continues to hold onto and cuddle with Dulce.

Yeah…..

Definitely the right decision.

________

Roman lifts his eyes from the phone that he just put on Do Not Disturb to set his gaze on Solana. Out of the shower, she’s wearing only one of his shirts. Nothing else. He can tell by the way the cotton almost outlines her nipples.

Placing the phone to the side, he’s slightly taken back when she moves onto his lap. “I—” Her eyes drop downward, her hands grasping at his shirt. “I need a distraction.” He’s confused, but it’s only temporary as she trails off with the specific distraction she’s looking for. “Can we….”

He doesn’t need to hear more. Roman understands just what she’s asking for.

And his answer is simple.

“Solana, I don’t think…..” He has to phrase it correctly, word it so that it doesn’t sound like he is rejecting her. He is, but it can’t come across as just that. “You’re not—”

“I feel dirty,” she interrupts, eyes closing, mouth moving around as she does her best to balance emotion with verbalization. “I—I don’t want to feel that. I want—I want to feel you. I only ever want to feel you.” Solana opens her eyes, pleading almost. “Please.”

Something is telling him to tell her no, to find a way to decline without hurting her feelings or making her feel rejected, because that’s the last thing he wants.

But, it feels almost impossible. She’s upset. He doesn’t want her to feel the way she’s feeling, and if she believes being intimate tonight will help her, then he’ll give her that.

Roman nods and gently taps her hip, partially surprised when she moves off his lap, taking his hand as she lays back on the bed, pulling him on top of her.

Roman’s lips hover over hers as she breathes, “I just want to feel you.”

It’s taking a painful amount of self-control on Roman’s part to refrain from taking here right here and now. Because while he’s mentally conflicted, there’s no denying the hardness that’s growing in his pants by the minute as she lifts her thigh and grazes it against his hip. There’s no properly explaining how much he’s missed this.

He kisses her, tentatively almost, letting her take the lead as she moves her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Roman’s hand goes to palm her breast through her shirt which makes her breathe against his mouth.

He shuts his eyes for a minute. He’d almost forgotten the sweet sounds she makes, fodder for his growing desire. He moves his mouth to her neck, sucking on the spot he’s learned makes her writhe under him, her nails scraping down his taut back.

And then, the shift.

Roman feels it only seconds before she acts on it, the way she starts to tense underneath him, the growing unsteady pattern of her breathing, the fear. But before he can pull away, she’s pushing him away, letting out a ‘no’ that comes from a different place, a different time. It comes from her trauma.

Her push is strong, but it’s not enough to get him completely off of her. Roman does that much all on his own, watching as she sits up in the bed and covers her face.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes into her hands. “I—I’m sorry.” Her shoulders tremble as the apologies melt into the bleeding of emotions she tried to mask away with intimacy. “I’m sorry—” Solana falling into a full out crying session, the third or fourth time she’s done as much tonight, is more than enough for Roman to motion her over to him.

“Come here.”

He’s at least grateful she lets him pull her onto his chest, letting her cry on him as he lays them back in the bed, his protective arms around her. For a second, he berates himself for taking her from the hospital. If they were still there, he’d wake up whoever the fuck he needed to wake up to give her that medicine she was prescribed for moments like this.

Moments where she just needs more.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, crying subdued a bit. But Roman is unsure what he dislikes more: the fact that she’s so upset or the fact that she thinks she needs to apologize for being so upset.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” is all he says. His hand is on the small of her back, moving in comforting circles. “Nothing at all, okay?”

She doesn’t say anything, just continues to cry into him, Roman wishing he could do more to settle her. It kills him to see her so upset.

A few minutes later, her tears having almost entirely subsided, she murmurs, “I’m sorry we couldn’t….”

He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to remain calm. “Solana, I told you before I don’t need that from you—”

“But, I wanted to. I just…..”

“It’s okay.” He cuts her off, kissing the top of her head. “I never expected that from you tonight anyway.”

He already knew she wasn’t in the mental space for it, but he didn’t want her to feel rejected either, so he went along with it. There’s a bit of regret, maybe more than a bit, but Roman also knows he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Still is.

“Rest.” He instructs, grateful when she simply nods against him, tucking herself closer into his body. And he watches her closely and intently, an infinite amount of pleasure rising within him when he feels the steady rise and fall of her body, confirmation that she’s finally drifted off into sleep.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep with her. He would actually prefer to stay up and watch her, but the weight of the day, mentally and physically, takes its unavoidable toll. And not too long after she succumbs to sleep, he does the same.

________

“Daddy.”

Roman’s eyes shoot open at the both familiar and unfamiliar voice. Looking down, he sees Solana sleeping peacefully on top of him, her hand atop his chest. But to his right, he finds sad eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a deep frown.

Naturally, he frowns a bit as well. He hates seeing any of this family upset. “Bad dream?”

She nods, holding onto the teddy bear in her arms. He’d gotten it for her a couple years back while he was away on business, and it’s become her comfort animal ever since.

Roman is careful in prying Solana’s arm off him, grateful when the extent of her stirring is simply her turning over on the other side. Over the years, she’s gotten better with not being as easily disturbed or woken up.

And he’s especially thankful for that in this moment.

Moving the blankets down and off, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rolls his shoulders. She shifts the bear in her arm to one side and reaches up for him to pick her up. “Come here.” Roman does as such, pulling her up as he stands from the bed.

She lays her head on his shoulder while he quietly walks them out the room, cracking the door behind him. Roman takes her downstairs into the living room and hits the lamp on the side table before grabbing the remote off the coffee table.

Sitting down, she adjusts herself in his lap, holding onto her stuffy while he loads up the animated show with the creepy blue looking thing that kids apparently love, his included.

Especially the twin on his lap. It’s like her comfort show.

“You wanna pick the episode?” It’s a preference.

She nods and accepts the remote from him, selecting the same episode she’s watched the last 10+ times this has occurred. She almost always starts with this same episode, like she has to or else she can’t watch it.

A repeat and increasing thing, he’s noticing.

As the opening credits roll around, Roman gently rubs her back, asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

She keeps her focus on the TV while shaking her head no. An expected answer given the fact that she never really likes to talk in general, but as Roman thinks about the increase in how often this is happening, he’s starting to wonder if it’s past the point where she gets a choice in the matter.

For the past few months, every so often, or more often now, he’ll be awoken in the middle of the night by his youngest daughter. Upset and clearly crying, she’ll ask him to sit with her, to stay with her until she falls asleep again. Though at some point, the addition of letting her watch an episode or two of her show seemed to aid in not only calming her down but eventually lulling her back to sleep.

And every time Roman tries to get out of her just what these bad dreams are, she remains quiet, forcing him to wreck his brain over what could be bothering her so much.

The unknown of it all is starting to mess with him.

He can’t help her if he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Sissy?”

Both Roman and the daughter on his lap look over to see her twin rubbing her sleeping eyes as she walks over and climbs onto the sofa, the two adjusting so they’re both seated on top of him. “Did you have the bad dreams again?”

At that, Roman’s brow furrows. Did she talk about them with her sister?

He asks as such.

“Do you know what they’re about?” Roman and Solana suspected that she’d confided in her sister, her true confidant, but they also didn’t want to risk putting a rift between the sisters by making one feel like she has to ‘snitch’ on the other.

However, an unspoken communication of some sort is exchanged between the twins. The quieter of the two reluctantly nodding as the outspoken one shares, “sissy has bad thoughts…..”

Roman takes the remote and turns down the volume versus pausing as he notices she’s still trying to watch. To some extent. And it’s clearly helping to calm her, so he won’t deprive her of that. But, he does have to ask, “what kind of bad thoughts?”

That could be and mean so many things. And if the situation was different, he wouldn’t be too concerned. The level and standard for ‘bad’ that he has compared to his kids is vastly different. But given how upset his daughter has been getting, there’s gotta be something more severe to the ‘bad’ this time.

His twin, in more than just looks and demeanor, seems to hesitate for a second, Roman ready to encourage her that it’s okay to be honest with him. He needs that honesty at this point. “She—she has scary thoughts about something happening to you and mama. And—and bad dreams that something’s gonna happen to you when you go on your trips.”

Roman does his best to hide his surprise. And his concern. He wasn’t expecting that. Turning to the youngest of the two, he asks, “is that true?”

She looks down, tightening her hold on her bear as she nods slowly.

Roman closes his eyes and takes a second to gather himself. Comfort now. Process later. It’s become a bit of a routine for him.

Needing both of their attention, he takes the remote again to hit pause.

“Girls….” Roman has to remind himself to keep it simple and at a level they can understand. “I’m never going to let anything happen to your mom. Or to you. Or to your brother. And nothing is especially going to happen to me.” Seeing the emotion especially present in his youngest, he kisses her temple. “I’m always going to come back home to you guys, okay?”

And that’s a promise.

Come hell or high water, nothing could separate him from his family.

Especially his kids.

“Told you, sissy.” She then smiles a little, adding on with a toothy grin. “Daddy’s like a superhero.”

Roman chuckles. Far from it. But whatever helps them.

Taking over the duty of being the parent, showing that while she has many of her father’s interests and some of his temperament, she also has her mother’s caring nature, she asks, reaching for her little sister’s hand. “Wanna try to go back to sleep? You can sleep in my bed.”

The offer to not have to sleep alone as well as having some one on one time with him seems to be enough to be enough to coax her back to bed. He watches as the girls climb off his lap, the oldest taking the youngest hand, as she also handles the parting words, “goodnight, daddy.”

He offers a small smile. Their bond is something special. “Night, girls.” Hands still locked, they walk away, heading back up the stairs. “Love you.” He calls out after them.

An almost synchronized response is what he’s met with. “Love you too, daddy.”

It brings that warmth back to him, Roman blowing out a deep breath when it’s just him and the paused screen on the TV. He takes a couple minutes to sit on the weight of the conversation.

He doesn’t like knowing that his daughter is struggling with thoughts. Hates that they haunt her in the form of dreams. He knows better than anyone how difficult that can be. How exhausting.

So does Solana.

Thoughts of his wife and wanting to get back to her before she notices his absence and wakes up, Roman shuts off the TV and starts heading upstairs.

Walking back into their bedroom, he’s only partially surprised to find Solana awake, sitting up against the headboard, their son on her chest for one of his nightly feedings.

She gives him a sad, knowing smile. “Another bad dream?”

Roman nods and goes to sit back in the bed next to her. “Found out what they’re about.”

Solana’s eyes widen a bit. “She told you?”

He shakes his head. “The other one did.” He frowns a bit, sharing, “she’s having thoughts and dreams of something happening to us. Me especially.”

Solana’s frown is deep and concerned. Valid. “What? Where—Where did that come from?”

“Don’t know.” Roman answers. He’d have loved to been able to ask more questions, but it’s also the middle of the night and just getting some kind of answer is a huge win in and of itself. “But, I wanna schedule an appointment with her pediatrician. If something else is going on with her, we need to know.”

Roman has an idea of what it could be, now starting to put different pieces together. Her particular way of doing things, rituals of sorts, thoughts she can’t control. But, he wants to be sure.

“Of course,” Solana agrees. “I’ll call in the morning.”

Good.

Roman chuckles after looking over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:59am. He glances at Solana, “and you really wanna do this all over again?”

He’s still partially stuck on the fact that even with three kids, Solana is still wanting more.

The thought alone brings out a heavy sigh just from tonight’s events.

All three of their kids up and in need of something in the middle of the night like he and his wife don’t have work in the morning.

He can’t even really picture an additional child—or two–added into the mix.

Solana, however, only smiles, rocking gently to help soothe their son. “Only with you, papi.” A beat. “Only with you.”

________

“No!”

Roman is awakened by movement and volume. Both of which effectively deter and distract him from yet another strange dream, a fantasy of some sort.

Or…..something more.

Regardless, he has neither the time nor energy—nor desire—to think about that. Not with the woman violently stirring beside him. A nightmare. It’s obvious Solana is in the middle of a nightmare.

“No….” Twisting against the mattress, Roman sees the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He frowns. How long has she been in the middle of this nightmare? “Get off me….”

At that, he stills a bit. With Solana’s extensive trauma, it’s pretty impossible to know just what specific traumatizing incident haunts her dreams and interrupts her sleep. But this….this one is pretty obvious.

And it guts him.

He moves his hands to her shoulders. “Baby, wake up.”

She starts crying, and Roman isn’t quite sure how much worse and useless he can feel. “No. Please—please. You’re hurting me.”

There’s a heaviness in his chest as Roman deepens his voice and shakes her a little harder. “Solana, wake up.”

It seems the more he says it, the more she writhes and cries, trapped in the throes of trauma. Roman doesn’t want to be physical with her, doesn’t want to exacerbate an already difficult situation, but he can’t just sit here and watch her suffer.

He moves his hands to her arms, restricting her just enough, raising his volume yet again. “Solana, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.” He’s not entirely certain if it’s his escalation or just the natural progression, but she shoots up, eyes opening for the briefest second before slamming shut.

And then, the climax.

Roman is taken back when she starts pushing and shoving him, but that surprise is easily weighed down with sympathy when she starts talking again.

“Get off of me!” She cries, never once letting up on him.

He takes it all, her fists really of no consequence to him as he continues to try to break her from this torment. “Solana, please—”

“No!” She’s the one with the increased volume, Roman biting back a hiss as a sharp almost burning pain throbs in his shoulder, the area where he was shot. But, it’s irrelevant. His focus is on Solana and nothing else.

“Baby, it’s me.” He’s no longer restraining her, letting her let it out on him as much as she needs to. Whatever she needs in this moment, he’ll give it to her. He’s not sure what else to do besides that, to be honest.

But, it’s when Roman manages to cup her face, again, repeating the hopefully calming, settling words, “it’s me” that seems to help break through to her. Blinking, wet eyes open, filled with fear. He studies her, watching her focus on him, as the fear starts to diminish. Replaced with recognition. “R–Roman?”

He nods, his own concern settling seeing her anxiety lessen. “Yes. It’s just me.”

She releases a shaky, emotional breath, clearly coming to grips with what just occurred. But, her gaze settling on his shoulder seems to bring back that previous level of horror. “Oh my god, I—I hurt you.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He looks down, realizing she must have ripped his stitches when she was hitting him, blood trickling down his skin. Roman is entirely unbothered. “Solana, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem to be hearing him, too focused on the unintentional thing she caused. “I hurt you…..”

He lowers her hands from her face, kissing her inner palms. “Baby, it’s fine.”

“I–I’m sorry. I–She closes her eyes, taking deep breaths, asking him in an unexpected calmer voice. “I—I need to stitch it back up for you.”

Roman shakes his head. “I can do th—”

But, she cuts him off, sounding a little bit more stable and a lot more desperate. “Roman, please?”

Not wanting to risk upsetting her again, he shakes his head, allowing her to take the lead as she grabs his hand and guides him into their bathroom. Roman sits on the toilet and watches her silently move around, gathering the medical kit and other needed supplies.

His eyes don’t leave her as she works carefully and tediously to stitch him back up, Roman partially thankful her focus is on something else versus the horrific memories that seemed to have been tormenting her the past couple hours.

He wants to say something, do something to help her feel better, to especially rip away the guilt evident in her eyes at ‘hurting’ him.

Solana may be the only person on this earth capable of doing as such, but it could never be physically.

Ever.

“I’m not crazy. I—I promise.” Her voice is shaky, unsteady by understandable emotion as she finishes up, starting to put the supplies back. “I just—I don’t know—”

Roman takes her hands in his. “Sol, I know you’re not crazy.” Feeling an unfamiliar sense of openness and vulnerability, he asks her, “do you know why I was able to help you with your panic attack that night?” Her eyes are lit with confusion as she shakes her head no. Roman’s jaw clenches. He’s never once told a soul what he’s about to share with her. “It’s because I used to have them.”

Her reaction is exactly what he would expect from anyone to hear such words coming from him.

“Wh—what?”

Roman’s eyes divert to the wall beside her as he powers through the discomfort. “It was….it was after my family was killed. I’d have nightmares about it and wake up freaking the fuck out.” Just like her. “That’s when they’d happen.”

“But, I couldn’t tell anyone, because they were already questioning if I would be fit to lead.” He scoffs, “I had to be perfect. I couldn’t let anyone know how fucked up I really was from what happened.”

He can only imagine that the softness in her voice matches the expression on her face. “Roman….”

“But, I couldn’t keep dealing with the shit either, so I found this book at my school’s library about mental health and whatnot, and it had a section on panic attacks and how to cope with them. So, I studied and learned them. It’s been fine since then. Haven’t had one in years.” Though that similar budding feeling of panic that used to be present before they’d occur is something Roman’s noticed having versions of for almost the past two weeks.

Since he found out Solana tried to kill herself.

She lifts her hand to his face, and he closes his eyes. He can feel it. Can sense it. Her sympathy or maybe something different. Maybe empathy. Regardless, he doesn’t want or need it. The point was to not bring attention to his fucked up past but rather help her reduce some of her self-judgment.

He stands up, forcing her hand to fall down as he instead cups her face, looking and speaking directly at her. “You’re not crazy.” Far from it. And he needs her to know that. “You just….you need help.” His voice shifts into something softer. “And I’m going to make sure you get it.”

Her gaze also shifts. Something both hopeful and sad. “I–I can go?”

Roman only hesitates for a second. “Yes.”

The answer he gives her is in no way indicative of how he feels about it. He still hates it. Hates the idea of her not coming home for good in three days and instead going to yet another treatment facility. This one longer and farther away.

But, if there’s anything the past few hours have taught him, have shown him, it’s that Dr. Stratus and Gail were right.

And so was Solana.

She’s not ready to come home.

She needs more help.

And he can’t, won’t, be selfish. Won’t be too consumed by his own want and desire to have her back with him. Not when it directly contrasts what she needs.

And what she needs is continued professional help.

So, that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

“I’ll talk to Stratus about what we need to do.” And that’s more so in regards to location solely, so Roman can get a head start on working on safety precautions for her. He’ll keep Bautista with her. That seems to be a good fit.

Solana, however, is bubbling with emotion again. From a different source. For a different reason.

She pushes herself into his chest, Roman easily dropping his hands to her waist, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.” It’s as he holds her, her face buried into his chest that she murmurs those three, sacred, terrifying words. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes.

It’s one thing to read it but something entirely different to actually hear her say it.

He doesn’t know how to respond, how to react, what to say.

Even if does feel the same way.

So, he says nothing.

________

“You took her out of the hospital.”

“Sure fucking did.”

Roman has never been so unbothered while sitting in Dr. Stratus office as she paces across, visibly and audibly stressed the fuck out by what occurred.

After agreeing to let her continue treatment at the other facility, Solana was finally able to get some sleep. Roman as well. Not a ton, of course, because he woke up to her spot in bed next to him vacant. Dulce missing as well.

And if not for the note left for him that read ‘fixing us breakfast <3’, he might have even panicked a bit. Just a smidgen. Of course she would spend time doing something for them rather than herself. It’s such a Solana thing.

Regardless, he enjoyed breakfast with her but hated to see the saddened expression on her face as she said goodbye to her puppy, Dulce’s ears dropping and the whimpering returning as she also picked up on the pending separation.

She’s also felt and been impacted by Solana’s absence.

But, it’s a necessary absence.

Solana needs help.

And it’s that, that oh-so important reminder, Roman keeps repeating to himself as this blonde bitch continues to berate him like he’s a fucking child.

“Who the hell are you to make that decision?” She continues, pointing at him. “You do not get to remove my patient from my care without speaking to me!”

“I did what I had to do for my wife. She needed to get the fuck out of here.” Roman is a man who doesn’t believe in explaining himself, but given the situation, he makes a small exception. For Solana. Only for her. “But, if you don’t lower your fucking voice, you won’t have to worry about her, or anyone else, being your patient because the dead can’t be fucking psychiatrists.”

Dr. Stratus closes her eyes and shakes her head. “At the very least, you could have just texted me what was going on.”

“Keeping you briefed wasn’t my priority.” At all. “Keeping my wife alive was.”

She opens her eyes, asking, “was she suicidal?”

“She said no.” Roman still isn’t entirely sure he believed her. She could have been telling the truth, but she also could have been lying for a lot of different reasons. Still, that’s not something he feels the need to share. “She said she talked about her rape earlier that day in therapy and was having….flashbacks.”

“Flooding,” Dr. Stratus informs. “It’s when a survivor experiences intrusive thoughts, images, and flashbacks of their trauma.” She then looks at him, almost surprised, “she called you?”

Roman nods. “Said the coping shit wasn’t working.”

The doctor plops back down into her seat, saying more to herself than anything. “Well, I suppose that’s a good sign. That she reached out to you versus….other things.” That’s exactly how Roman feels. “Regardless, in the future, at least let me know what’s going on. I would have told you to give her the Hydroxyzine. We could have seen if it’s helpful.”

Roman doesn’t disagree with her there. The thought of one of her medications potentially being helpful definitely crossed his mind. But, he’s not about to tell this woman that.

He’s got other things he needs to discuss.

“The facility you were telling me about….” Roman looks away, not eager to have this conversation but knowing he needs to. For Solana. “Tell me more.”

________

A loud, guttural, almost animalistic growl leaves Samantha’s mouth at the same time the glass plate is tossed against the wall, shattering and spilling into tiny little pieces all across her kitchen floor.

Not that it makes a difference.

Punching the fridge, she ignores the throbbing in her fist and ineffectively tries to manage her nerves, dissuading the burning urge within to scream. It’s been less than 24hrs since she regained the ability to speak, her jaw finally healed enough and no longer wired shut.

But, now she’s left with nothing but pent up emotion all directed toward one person.

Solana

That fat bitch ruined everything. She stole Roman from her. The man who she’s been with since she was a fucking teenager. The man she always imagined would be her husband and father of her children, who would make her his Queen of the Bloodline, but none of that will happen now.

It won’t happen because of that slashed face whore.

Because Roman chose her over him.

Which brings up unfamiliar feelings towards her former lover.

Roman is an asshole. Always has been. As long as she’s known him, he’s been a dick, so his cruel behavior at times toward her never really bothered her. That’s just his personality. She never took it personally.

Not until now, at least.

Because now, it’s not just his wife she’s mad at, it’s Roman too.

Granted, her fury toward the troll is significantly worse.

She’d kill the bitch if she could.

“Rough day?”

Samantha nearly jumps across the room at the sound of another person’s voice. She instead is braced against the refrigerator as she lands eyes on the last person she expected to find in her place.

“Seth?”

It takes another second for her to register that it truly is the once friend of her former lover. He sits on her sofa wearing at least three different types of animal print that are all outlined in some kind of bling, hair looking as unkempt as his mental health.

She’s sly in trying to move closer to the knife set on the counter.

Seth, however, is as perceptive as he is insane. She stills when he casually pulls out a gun. “Ah ah. I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” He makes a face, playing with the gun.“Word on the street is that you got dumped.”

Samantha’s eyes narrow a bit. How does Seth freakin Rollins of all people know about her ‘breakup’ with Roman? Only those close to Roman would know that, and there’s no way anyone close to Roman would be speaking to Seth……

Right?

“Who—”

“You’ll find out about the members of this little crusade once you agree,” he explains, placing the gun on the sofa beside him, casually viewing his nails that are painted a hideous green. Like the color of slime from Nickelodeon back in the day. “Can’t risk snitches, of course.”

More interested than anything, Samantha asks, “what are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right.” He giggles, standing up and pulling a flask out of what seems like nowhere. “We’re gonna kill Roman Reigns.” Seth takes a swig as Samantha’s eyes widen, before he adds on, as if he forgot. “And his wife, Sadie.”

“Solana?”

Seth shrugs “Yeah, she can get killed too. Why not?”

Samantha finally laughs, crossing her arms. “You’re even crazier than I realized. You can’t just kill, Roman.” It’s damn near impossible. Does he not know the mountain of bodies that have tried and failed at the very same thing he’s suggesting? “And there’s no way in hell he’ll let you get even close enough to kill that bitch wife of his.”

“Oh, that’s a lot easier than you think.” Seth takes the flask to his mouth again, voice teasing yet malicious. “The Bloodline is full of traitors.”

Samantha goes quiet, wondering how much of this is madness and just how much is true. It seems too asinine to be true.

But, there’s also the fact that the only way Seth could have known about Roman leaving her was if someone within the Bloodline told him, which would most definitely make them a traitor. And even that feels almost impossible. Roman’s family is notoriously loyal. Who would want to betray him?

The plural form of the word ‘traitor’ is also something that catches her attention.

Could there be more than one traitor?

Seth meanwhile seems to be in a sense of imaginative blood lust, practically squealing, “the infamous Roman Empire is going to be coming to a gloriously bloody, gory end, and we’re trying to see who all want to be a part of our little murderous, traitorous gang.”

Again, she’s caught off guard, realizing just now he’s clearly referring to more than himself. “Gang?”

Seth tilts his head, pouting as he says almost mysteriously, “we both know your former lover has no shortage of enemies.”

That is dangerously true, but what’s even more dangerous is this suicide mission Seth is proposing.

“How is this supposed to be any different from any other time people have tried to kill Roman?” As much as she would love to see Solana’s life drain from her ugly ass face, Samantha would rather not lose her life in the process.

Seth is way too excited to answer. “Because this time, the call is coming from inside the house.” Her eyes widen. “With a little….Nightmare help as well.”

There’s so much to process in that one bombshell of a sentence. “Someone in the Bloodline is orchestrating this?” Not to mention whatever role the Nightmare Factory is playing. That’s just salt on an open, gushing wound.

This type of betrayal is bound to crush Roman.

Samanth smiles.

Oh, revenge is so so sweet.

“I’ll join, but on one condition.” Seth’s brow lifts, a sign he’s ready to hear out her caveat. “That I get to stab and kill that bitch Solana myself. I get to be the one to take her from Roman.”

At the vision alone, Seth’s mad smile grows followed by that crazy ass laugh. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.” He claps his hands together, nodding. “You got yourself a deal, curly.”

Samantha nods, pleased with the arrangement.

Whoever previously took the knife to Roman’s little wife, causing all those ugly ass scars, failed to get the job done.

Samantha won’t.

She does have another question, shrugging. “So who all is a part of this shit anyway?”

She’s especially curious about who the traitor is.

Or traitors.

Of course, it’s just more mental edging with the self-proclaimed visionary. “You’ll get to meet the gang soon enough, but we’ve got one more person to recruit.” Samantha’s curiosity is evident, prompted by Seth casually tossing the flask up and down with a wicked gleam in his empty eyes. “Can’t take down Roman Reigns without inviting his good ole’ pal Brock Lesnar to join in on the fun, now can we?”

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

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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Just One Reason: A Walk in the Park

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You push through the door of the lobby and hold it open for the elder woman hunched over her walker. You patiently let her through but she doesn’t even acknowledge your deed. It’s too bad that most times you help people, you don’t even seem to notice. That’s fine. You’d feel worse to see her struggle.

She heads for the outer door but before you can rush over to get that too, someone else does. You blanch as you recognise the man with the bristly mustache. It’s Lloyd. You haven’t seen or heard from him in the week since the sandwich shop encounter. You just assumed it was another random crossing of wires.

The woman mutters as she passes through the door and his cheek twitches as he waits until he’s through to let go. He shakes his head and turns to you, “there ya are. Didn’t know your unit so kinda just been hanging around.”

You blink, “you’ve been waiting on me?”

“That lady was a grouch, huh? Not even a thanks. Telling ya, tootsie roll, you’re too sweet,” he says. That pet name is cute but a bit much.

“Um, yeah, but she’s probably in a lot of pain. Maybe one day I’ll be in the same way and someone will hold the door for me,” you shrug. “But uh, why exactly are you waiting in my lobby?”

“Friends stop by to say hello, don’t they?” He grins.

“Sure, but uh...”

“You said we’re friends so... did I misread this? Were you just being nice? The way you do, huh? Because lying isn’t very nice, tootsie.”

You shake your head, “no, I just... I don’t know. I’m surprised. That’s all.”

“Good surprise?” He lifts a brow.

“Yeah, of course,” you squeak.

“Mm, and where are you off too, besides helping little old ladies?” He challenges.

“Just going for a walk. I like to walk through Garnet.”

“Garnet? You mean the sh—the path down there?” He points to the wall and you nod.

“They have pretty flowers.”

“It’s... almost winter,” he sniffs.

“Yeah, I know. I like it though. There’s still ducks around.”

He nods, his eyes narrowed discerningly, “you always see the silver linings, don’t ya?”

“I try,” you shrug.

“Well, can I crash your walk? Could stand to stretch my legs.”

You nod and hum, “that’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Lloyd,” you give him a look, “you’re more than welcome to walk with me.”

You tuck your earbud case away. The left one is broken anyhow. He pulls the door open again and waves you out.

He follows and catches up to you on the sidewalk. You walk down the pavement and breathe in the brisk air. You fix your beanie over your ears and slip your hands up your sleeves as you cross your arms.

“Damn cold, isn’t it?” He puffs a cloud of steam into the air.

“I can’t wait for the snow,” you say.

Your father always loved the wintertime. You would watch the flakes drift down and build a snowman, even a tiny one if there wasn’t very much, and you’d have hot chocolate on the porch in your mittens and pajamas. And Christmas...

You push away that thought.

“You’re quiet? You alright?” He nudges you with his elbow. You flinch. You forgot he was there for a second.

“I’m wonderful. How are you? How’s your ear?”

“My ear...” he echoes. “You remember?”

“Did you get it looked at? Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah, it’s alright. Still a bit fuzzy on that side,” he shrugs. “It’s whatever. I’m a big boy.”

“Right, but did a doctor say so or--”

“You worry about me that much, tootsie?” He scoffs.

“It’s important. You never know, could be worse than you think. And if it’s nothing at all, at least you know,” you say. You don’t want to nag him, even if you should have nagged your dad. Maybe...

“No, I didn’t. Really, it’s not the first time I got a good blast to the ear,” he says.

“Right,” you accept as you turn through the gate to the park. The arch is missing letters but it’s still beautiful.

He sighs again and rubs his hands together. “God, I hate the cold.”

“You should get gloves,” you uncross your arms and reach into your pocket, “I don’t know, mine might be too small.”

You offer him the woolly mittens. He clicks his tongue, “that’s cute, definitely too small.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and chatters. You look at his jacket. You try to see the inside above the collar. “What are you doing?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“Is that lined?” You ask.

“What?”

“Your coat. Is there a lining in it? It looks thin.”

“I’m just fine, mom, thanks,” he snips sharply.

“Gosh, sorry, I just... I could sew a lining into it. I replaced the inserts in my boots too. It’s not that hard.”

He furrows his brow, “it’s whatever. I spend most of the winter south. Right by the equator where it’s nice and sunny.”

“Ooo, that sounds cool,” you say. “By the ocean?”

“Surrounded by it,” he says nonchalantly.

“Wow. I’ve never seen the ocean.”

“You haven’t... tootsie, what’re ya doin’ to me? You’re lying.”

“Nope,” you shake your head. “I’m sure one day I will. Is it pretty?”

He looks at you and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, “yeah, it’s... beautiful,” he looks ahead thoughtfully. “Guess I should pay more attention, but yeah, real blue and big and sh—stuff.”

You bounce on your feet and stop suddenly. You hit his arm and point, “don’t scare him.”

He nearly trips as you gesture to the little chipmunk on the broken bench. You can’t help a squee as it skitters onto the seat and glances around nervously. You squeeze Lloyd’s sleeve without thinking.

“He’s so c-y-ute!” You say, “isn’t he?”

He doesn’t answer right away but you’re too enamoured with the tiny critter to care.

“Yea, super cute,” he agrees at last.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #just one reason #drabble #series

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roguerambles · 15 hours

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I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.

The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.

Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.

Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.

Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive there things would look WILDLY different.

It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"

Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE. And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #I get the disappointment but I think some people need to take a deep breath and calm down #it's gonna be okay

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halla-hunts-the-wolf · 2 days

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Veilguard Spoilers @ The Inquisitor:

How do we feel about our three choices in the Veilguard character creator? I won't lie; this is the first thing I've heard about the game that's taken some of the wind out of my sails. I understand that keeping the choices as simple as possible was probably easier for making a new story and that most of what occurred in Inquisition only impacted southern Thedas, but at the same time -

If our Rooks can speak with the Inquisitor, they can't ask detailed questions about specific events, like what happened at the Winter Palace, without the Inquisitor having vague answers. It's not a big deal, but the Inquisitor went through some stuff, and even though ten years have passed, I hope those events still feel like they shaped and impacted the character.

I would have liked to receive a letter or a codex about my Hawke's whereabouts or for Varric to mention how Cole is, as I made him more human, and other nit-picky things like that. Still, even faint mentions of their characters, especially when their fates were player-dependent, would be hard to implement without a system similar to DA Keep.

I don't want to be overly critical. I'm excited for Veilguard; I know this is Rook's story, and I don't expect the Inquisitor to play a monumental role, but I do hope they receive a satisfying ending, whatever that may be.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers

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accirax · 1 day

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hey! i was wondering about eden’s emotional cg scenes with teruko at the end of ep14; if eden does happen to be the culprit, how would it affect her characterisation? personally, i can’t help but see it in a negative light, one which dampens her impact on arei, teruko and others with her ‘rational optimism’ and general kindness. if eden believed arei wanted to be friends with her, and was willing to reciprocate it, would eden really kill her in cold blood?? if her tears at the end of ep14 were genuine, would it go against her ultimately being the blackened?

tl:dr: how would you justify eden’s last moments at the end of ep14, if she were the culprit? it felt truly genuine to me, but i can’t help but notice her suspicious behaviour and inconsistencies in regards to the ch2 murder :(

(sorry, i’ve never done an ask before!! apologies if this is worded poorly.)

Can Eden Still Be the Culprit (Again)?

Haha, it figures that, even if I didn't choose to cover it in my Episode 14 Dissection, I'd still wind up analyzing what was going on in that scene anyways. Glad you're curious to hear my thoughts! (And don't worry, you phrased everything perfectly!)

The truth is, I didn't initially go over it because I wanted to post my thoughts on the day after the episode aired I, too, am somewhat confused as to how Eden could say all of that and still potentially be the blackened. However, as someone who still believes that Eden could be the blackened, it's probably a good idea if I figure out for myself what the hell this scene means in the context of DRDT at large if votes for Eden are close at hand. And potentially preempt some of the backlash that might arise if they are.

Just know that I, too, think that some of my points might be a bit of a stretch sometimes. We cool? Cool. Let's get analyzing.

SPOILERS for DRDT through Chapter 12 Episode 14, as well as Chapter 2 of THH and Chapter 1 of SDR2, and a WARNING that we will (obviously) be discussing Eden!culprit throughout this post.

For Eden's words and actions to make sense under the preconception that she is the killer, I think there are only three major roads you can take.

NUMBER ONE: EDEN IS A LYING, MANIPULATIVE, SCUMBAGGY PIECE OF SHIT

This option... is not great. Everybody agrees that it is not great. I hesitate to use the word "bad," because I think that people are way too hasty to call things "bad writing" (especially before they've even happened), but... I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty bad.

Basically, what it says on the tin. Just like David, Eden has actually been a liar and a manipulator the whole time. She doesn't actually believe anything she said about optimism or the power of friendship, and was 100% using that attitude the whole time to get everybody's guards down. A character like that would have no problem saying whatever the hell she needed to say in order to get others to pity and therefore not vote for her.

I don't like this one because it fully invalidates everything that we've seen from Eden so far. For someone like David-- or, say, Nagito-- even in the midst of their big heel turn, there are parts of their previous characterization that are still salvageable. Teruko caught David being a hater on literally Day 1, and it was easy to read into his outbursts of anger and insane nosiness to expect that his personality wasn't really as bright as his stars. Similarly, even if Hajime got along with Nagito, he was still sort of a creepy and off-putting guy, and everything about his love of hope stayed as strong as ever. For Eden to suddenly turn to the dark side would truly come out of nowhere. Other than... I don't know, liking to bake?, I don't think there are any aspects of Eden's former characterization that would remain. Not that her character would remain in the story for much longer, but, whatever.

I'm going to discount this option because I have faith in DRDTdev's writing, and I don't think he would suddenly want to abandon the Eden character he's been strongly developing over the past two chapters. Again, I refuse to call anything bad writing until the Chapter at least, if not the story as a whole, is wrapped up, but there's a reason why everyone's first instinct is to hate this idea.

NUMBER TWO: EDEN IS THE BLACKENED BUT DOESN'T KNOW IT

Basically, Eden is able to be so genuine because she either forgot or didn't know that she was the one to kill Arei, but we'll still be able to convict her in the end because all of the evidence points to her. How would this work? Well, sorastar6 came up with a theory that Eden might have killed Arei but blocked it out of her memory. It could also be something where, like, someone else put her up to it and she accidentally let go of the rope or whatever to kill Arei without realizing it. (That idea is loosely based off of a-student-out-of-time's theory of David manipulating Hu to kill J-dressed-as-Arei-- hopefully if they read this, they won't mind me using their theory as a logistical basis off of which to accuse Eden 😅)

However, I don't think either of these cases are particularly likely either. The murder method is so complicated and clearly premeditated that it would be really hard to trick someone into operating it without realizing it at all. And, if Eden killing Arei traumatized her so much that she lost multiple hours of memory then you'd think she'd just... not do it. I respect the hard work and creativity of both of these theorists, but I'll be passing on this option as well.

NUMBER THREE: EDEN FEELS REALLY, REALLY GUILTY ABOUT IT

Okay, so I maybe-sorta-lied: there are probably other ways that you could interpret Eden's emotional reactions to talking about Arei's death other than specifically her being guilty. However, given that guilt was already the justification I reached for the first Eden mini-breakdown in my Episode 13 Dissection, it may not come as a surprise that I'm staying on theme.

Before, I summarized that what Eden was saying to Levi was basically what she wanted to say or already said to herself. She knows that killing Arei was "wrong," so even though she thought it was the right thing to do, she wants to always remember Arei and acknowledge her faults as a form of penance. Also importantly, one facet of why Eden might be breaking down now is because (under the theory) she only learned that Arei truly wanted to change and be her friend in the Trial when David told her. It makes her feel extra guilty now knowing that she killed someone who wasn't just her bully, but someone who wanted to be better than that.

We're going to keep that rationale in mind as we now look through everything that Eden has to say at the end of Episode 14. The only thing of note that I will have to concede is that, even if Eden isn't a liar or a manipulator overall, any time she says anything along the lines of "I'm innocent!" or "I didn't kill Arei!", it has to be a boldface lie. Sorry, I don't like it either, but there's no way around it (outside of something like option 2). I otherwise want to claim that Eden is straight-up lying as little as possible, but this was kind of a gimme. But hey, that's why I have my doubts that any of this will turn out to be true as well.

Since this is its own post and not part of the Episode 14 Dissection, it means that I get 30 images to use on just this subject, hooray!

This is certainly a softball to start this defense off on. Eden can just be confused/upset that her efforts to evade being the blackened aren't working all of a sudden.

Similarly, this is just her rephrasing/challenging everyone's thoughts. Perhaps I should have cut out some of these beginning statements, but I'm always one for being thorough.

Don't worry, this is the last of these three. I will note, though, something that I actually only noticed on this watch-through. I was aware that Teruko and David both had shots that only showed their mouths and torsos with their eyes obscured in this episode, but apparently, Eden has one too. Of course, this could go either way: these shots could be reserved for the "major players" of this chapter-- the protagonist, killer, and someone who's clearly getting extra focus-- or, it could be more of a protag/antag/support thing. Or maybe DRDTdev just decided to start using this for highly emotional scenes.

Well, given that I'm trying to throw Eden under the bus in this post, it's clearly the first of the three. Don't listen to any clowns (<- me) who might tell you otherwise. (/j)

"Hold myself together" isn't as innocent-coded as it might seem on the surface. It seems pretty clear to me that Eden feels genuine sadness over Arei's passing no matter her role in Arei's death. However, being the blackened and having to keep a secret throughout the Trial might make coping with those emotions even more difficult. Fully breaking down in grief would be bad enough as an innocent, but as a blackened, it would basically be game over. Arei's death is the cause of her discomposure, which can still be equally true if she was the one to kill Arei.

This is quite possibly the line that I have the hardest time justifying in the context of Eden being guilty. I could obviously just say that she's lying here, but as I said at the start, I want to call what Eden says lies as minimally as possible. So, what are our other options?

Nico said earlier this episode that attempting to kill Ace was "the worst choice that [they'd] made in [their] life," so it could be fitting for both of our killers this chapter to feel the same way. After seeing what it was like to kill Arei and have everyone suspect you, Eden decides that whatever her motive for killing was wasn't worth it in the end. However, now that she's in this situation, she still has to stick with her initial plan (unless she wants to just die on the spot) because she can't go back, no matter how hard she tries--

For DRDT to enter its third chapter with the cast at their most hostile and downtrodden but also only having one killer who did so accidentally and two killers who deeply regretted it would be very interesting indeed.

Alternatively (or perhaps in combination), this could also be Eden being somewhat of a pessimist. If you're a blackened, you're generally hoping/expecting that everyone other than you will die. However, only one person's death is actually guaranteed-- your victim's. (Or two people's deaths if you kill two people, but that's not important to this case.) In theory, Eden choosing to kill Arei in particular doesn't really matter, because if she won the Class Trial, Arei would die anyways. However, now that Teruko has accused Eden, reality might be setting in for Eden as her dreams of being the one to escape flit away. In that case, she may be regretting her choice to victimize Arei-- if she's going to die for her attempt, she might at least wish that Arei got to live over some others.

I think the first option is probably the best from a thematic perspective, although both options certainly have their counterarguments.

Eden's (stellar) read on the "Why?" line definitely implies that she's frustrated, which could go either way. It's equally possible that she could be mad that people are suspecting her when she's innocent, or that she's upset that everyone is suddenly hounding her when she thought she was putting up a good front.

As for her leading question, if Eden is the killer, we've already seen her subtly mine for information at least once before. The conclusion of her last breakdown was her trying to ask David what really happened between him and Arei in the Relaxation Room. Now, asking this question might be intended to either shore up arguments she hopes to defend herself against, or force other people to "concede" that there are no reasons why Eden would have killed Arei. A bit of a dangerous gambit, but it's arguably more dangerous to have to come up with justifications about unknown arguments on the spot, especially when emotionally struggling.

Not gonna lie, though, the fact that she immediately followed up "why do you think I killed her" with "I cared about her!" also slants towards an innocent read. If you really were the culprit, I feel like you would start trying to argue against some of the solid evidence that people just presented (such as Levi bringing up the information required to write that note) with evidence of your own. Instead, Eden shoots straight for the emotional defense, even though no one was arguing that Eden never cared about Arei leading into this speech. (Arturo brings up her connection to Arei, but he never directly says it was because she didn't care.) It could speak to the fact that she was fully unprepared to be accused (because she didn't do it and had no idea about the tape).

However, Eden has always been a very emotional person, and it's possible that a big part of her intended defense was to say that she cared about Arei. Another interpretation is that Eden brought this up now because it's something she's insecure about. It sort of goes back to my idea that Eden is still desperately trying to cling to the idea that she's a "good person" despite her choice to kill. If that's true, the way that Eden is perceived as the killer might be very important to her. Like, obviously surviving the Trial itself is the most important thing, but Eden doesn't want anyone to misinterpret her as a monster on her path to the finish line.

I already explained why this line was sus as hell to me:

This distinction-- between "Arei was my friend" and "Arei could have been my friend"-- could be very telling down the line. Eden pauses mid-tear-filled rant to distinguish that Arei is not her friend, not because she's dead, but because they hadn't reached that point yet. Arei is not Eden's friend in death. What can that possibly mean other than that Eden killed Arei?

This is one of the lines that makes me most think that she is the blackened in this monologue. Because, seriously, why would she not have just said "Arei was my friend!" if there wasn't any doubt in her mind?

Alright, I think that about now is a good time for me to drop the thesis I've developed whilst reflecting on Eden's behavior and how to put all of the pieces together. Should I have said it earlier? Maybe, but where's the drama in that?

Basically, for starters, I don't think that Eden fully believed that Arei genuinely wanted to be her friend. As I've said before, Arei saving Eden from Arturo happened mere hours after Arei denounced her entire personality. It's super believable that Eden might think that Arei was just using her usual manipulative tricks to make Eden look like the fool again. However, despite all that, I don't think that Eden hated Arei, either. They were just in the exact same state that they were in before-- Arei as the bully and Eden as her target-- which Eden had never hated Arei for before. Eden wanted to help her and wanted to be friends with her, as she says in this screenshot, but that doesn't mean it could actually happen. Tragically, Eden determined that Arei wouldn't be able to change while being trapped in this killing game.

After that, Eden decides that she needs to kill to escape the school. The exact motives of which have puzzled Eden!culprit theorists for months, with current speculations still being that it may either have to do with her secret, the girl she kissed, or her family, who she told Levi she couldn't imagine living without. We've got time to cook on that in the post-Trial, if Eden is the killer. However, I also don't think that we should discount how scary the killing game has become.

Let's run through the events of Day 6 again, because it's a truly terrible day for Eden:

Eden wakes up in the morning and goes to rouse Teruko, who she has to blackmail in order to even get her to consider attending breakfast with the others. She tries to convince Teruko about the value of optimism, but Teruko only tells her that her worldview makes Teruko even less inclined to be her friend. Speaking of lack of friendship, Eden's chances at a peaceful breakfast-- which she had been hoping to use to bring everyone together-- are dashed when there are three separate shouting matches going on in the Dining Hall. Eden tries to assign her associates to break up the fights, but it goes terribly-- all she does is get Arturo and J mad at her, while Veronika only makes the situation between Ace and Nico worse.

After David's plan causes Charles (who has been making some of the most progress so far) to recall his traumatic past, Eden tries to invite Teruko and Arei to a fun event to brighten everyone's moods and right her wrongs of the past. Except that, when she does, Arei rejects her offer outright and brings up some of her biggest insecurities, causing Eden to run out of the room crying. Neither Teruko, who Eden has been trying super hard to befriend, nor David, who has (theoretically) been acting in the name of harmony and cooperation, run after her to offer her any comfort.

Despite David's lack of support, though, she still decides to support him by following his idea to let Arturo know about his secret. Trying to do so nearly costs her her life. She's just one unarmed 5'2" clockmaker against a clearly agitated 6'3" surgeon with a scalpel, and she's only saved by the bully who just said that Eden "utterly disgust[ed] her in every way." Arei now claims that she'd do anything for Eden, but is that just another setup through which Arei can make fun of her trusting nature in the future...? Eden wants to hope, but it's hard to do so when the person who just saved you was the one who told you you shouldn't.

Anyways, even despite a long afternoon of Nico being outed and a long night of being stalked by probably-Arturo, Eden is still trying to help Teruko pick up her clothes when she runs into Teruko in the Dress-Up Room. But since nothing can go right for Eden today, it's then when she and Teruko hear a loud noise, and they stumble upon Ace's body in the Gym-- the second murder attempt Eden has seen today. Nico is standing over Ace, really making it look like they killed him. Gosh, if only someone had been able to talk to the two of them this morning in a productive way, instead of making things worse. Thankfully, Ace is still alive, but less thankfully, he's now a convert to killing and wants to eliminate Nico. The day ends with Ace saying that this place is worse than death and Levi-- who Eden had just been praising for being kind and reliable-- giving up on his former friend.

Are you starting to see why Eden started planning murder and picked up the tape when she did?

Looking at it through that perspective, I don't even know if Eden needs a reason outside of the killing game to want to be the blackened and escape. If we can accept that Ace's motive would be to escape the situation in which he almost died, it feels like we should be able to acknowledge that Eden could be motivated by the exact same thing.

Obviously, it's harder to believe that Eden would kill than Ace, because Eden generally cares about everybody and Ace (other than Levi, once) didn't really like anyone. However, I, at least, don't think it would be totally narratively unsatisfying for Eden's reason for killing to be that her bandwidth for caring for others was overloaded, and with no one supporting her (and at least one party actively attacking her), her fears of the killing game got the better of her, if only just for a moment.

Getting back on track, Eden's terrible awful no good very bad day has inspired her to kill, but who does she take down as her victim? Well, as we've established before, if Eden wins, everyone will die anyways, so it's not like she's really "sparing anyone's life" by not killing them here. She's already made her peace with everyone as she knows them dying. And after that, despite the care she still has for Arei, she chooses Arei as her victim because of what Arei told her after Arturo attacked Eden. But, I'll reiterate, Eden doesn't hate Arei. Instead, Eden chooses Arei because she thinks Arei is the victim that will make her look the least suspicious.

Just because Eden doesn't believe that Arei really wanted to be her friend doesn't mean that other people won't. In fact, I think that Arturo would definitely believe that the two of them had turned over a new leaf. In this situation, Eden is aware that her best path to innocence is to play up her kindhearted personality in order to lead people to believe that she would never hurt a fly. Therefore, she decides to leave the note behind so that people will hear about the story of Arturo attacking her. In my Episode 14 dissection, I was spinning my wheels trying to figure out why Eden would possibly want anyone to find that note. However, this option would create a reason why Eden would want others to read the note. The mere fact that Arei decided to come to the Playground would serve as evidence that Arei really did care about Eden, and therefore make Eden seem more innocent. Maybe she overstepped a bit on revealing so much about Arturo's secret in the note, but given that everyone seems to believe that the killer overhearing the conversation was possible anyways, it's not a huge deal.

However, there is a contradiction here that you may have picked up on. Why would Eden count on using a note to draw Arei out to the Playground if she didn't believe that Arei would actually listen to her? I raise you a new idea: who says that note was actually real?

For those who believe that Eden isn't the killer, the thought that someone falsified writing that note isn't anything revolutionary. However, if other culprits could plant that note as a fake, who's to say that Eden didn't do the same?

I believe it was demodraws606 who recently raised the question of why Eden would even bother writing a note to Arei when she could have just gone up and knocked on her door. (Apologies, I tried to find the post in which they said that but I couldn't track it down 😔) That excellent question set off the domino chain that made me think... well, maybe she did.

Eden works through the night (14 hour shifts, baby) setting up the pieces of her murder contraption in the Playground and writing a fake note that she "sent" to Arei. However, instead of sending that note to Arei, she goes to Arei's room herself and knocks on her door at, like, 7 AM or something. Eden doesn't necessarily believe that Arei will answer, but, if she doesn't-- that's not the worst thing in the world, right? It's not like she's particularly pressed about the secrets deadline, and she left herself with enough time to put away her murder scheme if necessary. Unfortunate, but assuming that she lives another day, she can try again some other time. However, instead, Arei opens the door (because, unbeknownst to Arei, she really did want to be friends with Eden), sealing her fate.

This also opens the opportunity for the scene of knocking Arei out to be in the doorway of Arei's room, instead of in the Playground. I always wondered how the scuffs on the floor would be so contained to one area near the entrance to the Playground. Like, the whole rope setup must have been at least somewhat set up by the time Arei entered the Playground, right? If Arei saw that, why wouldn't she start running away? And, in the case of Eden as the culprit specifically, would she really be able to subdue Arei in such a small area? If Arei was knocked out in her room, we wouldn't be able to see any evidence of that happening, because no one searched her room. That also leaves open the opportunity for Eden to have tossed any items she used to knock out Arei into Arei's room, where no one would be able to find them. And, hell, let's rope the glove into this, too! If Arei was never even intending to get dressed up to the level of leaving her room, maybe she hadn't yet put on her glove when Eden taped her wrists! It's weak reasoning, but it's a reasoning, at least!

(Also, if you're wondering how the scuffs on the ground could have gotten there if Arei wasn't subdued in the Playground, sorastar6 also recently made a theory that the ground was actually scuffed up after the jugs broke and the turf became wet, and it was the killer walking through a puddle that messed up the ground.)

After that, yada yada, ropes and carousel, Arei dies, investigation, Class Trial.

Eden is trying her best to just lay low and survive the Class Trial, but a wrench is thrown her way when David reveals to her that, after she left the Playground, Arei confessed to David and Teruko that she actually wanted to change. This goes against everything that Eden thought. Part of her reason for murder was that no one was willing to work with her, and now she learns that she just killed the one person who actually was? That's terrible! It can't be! David, please tell me the rest of that story!!!

At this point, you might wonder why, if Eden feels horribly guilty about killing Arei and unsure of her former conviction that the best thing she could do would be to get out of here alive, she wouldn't just confess to the crime already. Beyond her desire to survive herself, I think it could be because she wants Arei's death to have meaning.

If Eden gives up, it means that she killed Arei for no reason. She made the huge, irreversible decision to kill Arei, and then decided to throw it away when things got tough. But she won't let herself brush away the deaths she caused just because it was inconvenient for her.

She won't let her emotions take precedence over the harm that she caused.

She has to acknowledge that Arei's death was her fault.

Which means that, just like Min did, she has to fight like a proper blackened would if she wants to prove that she cared about enough Arei to believe that her life had meaning.

And that's why Eden is so insistent that she didn't kill Arei because she hated her. She isn't someone who believed that Arei was fully incapable of change, and she still cared about Arei a lot. And so, she'll honor Arei's legacy by taking to heart what Arei said to her.

Those are my general thoughts on how to justify Eden's breakdown at the end of the episode-- although, obviously, we still have more to go. That awkward middle placement strikes again, huh? But, I do think it has its benefits, which is why I'm keeping it here. We get to balance some buildup before the point with the lens of seeing some of the dialogue after the point. Let's wrap up the rest of this a bit quicker, shall we?

Since we're a while from the start, let me just issue a refresher that this post is assuming that every time Eden says "I didn't kill Arei" she is just lying. Yes, it assumes that Eden is willing to lie in a Class Trial, but I think that any 18 year old would be capable of pulling that off if their life was at stake, no matter how sweet they may seem.

This could also be another instance of Eden assessing the situation via asking a question.

This line would be tying back to the assumption that Eden's main plan for getting away with the crime (other than possibly framing Nico with the murder method) was to pull the emotional defense that others wouldn't believe that she killed. The tears could still absolutely be borne of genuine fear, but the choice to reach for help from Teruko could be her planned fallback if things got dicey. If she is the killer, then the evidence should stack against her, meaning that "belief" is her best way out of receiving votes. This is her hail mary.

"This trial has been cruel to me" is 100% right if she is the blackened who got jumpscared by knowing that Arei cared. After she initially acted against her instincts to kill for the sake of her life, she then has to face consequences that she didn't even think were possible, all while keeping a straight face. For whoever the killer is, can you imagine how stressful it must have been to have David extend the Trial for so much longer with his nonsense? (Mondo with Byakuya vibes in Ch2, honestly. The THH parallels never rest.)

Again, we're saying "I didn't kill her" is a lie, while "I just wanted to help her" was the truth. Something more along the lines of "I just wanted to help Arei, but she seemingly rejected my every effort, so I killed her but without the knowledge that my help was actually getting through to her" is what we're aiming for here.

I decided to combine these two together because I didn't have much to say about the first one on its own. One interesting thing to note here is what thebadjoe pointed out: Eden says that friends are supposed to help each other out, yet in Chapter 2 Episode 3, she was the one telling Teruko that relationships aren't transactional. What changed between now and then?

Well, this is much more in keeping with Arei's "that's what friends do" philosophy, which could either be a further indication that she was taking Arei's words to heart (for better or for worse) or that she's just desperate enough that she needs to count on Teruko in this moment if she wants to survive (again, whether genuinely innocent or guilty). It could mean nothing, but it could also be an indication of Eden's more manipulative side, if she's making an emotional argument that goes against her own philosophy just because she knows it'll strike a chord with Teruko.

(Of course, you can basically counterbalance this "inconsistency" with the one that one post (yet ANOTHER post I cannot fucking re-find) pointed out with Ace saying "I would never commit a murder of my own" with him previously saying that he was "about to commit a murder of his own" on Nico. They can't both be the killer unless something really weird is going on, so at least one of these "inconsistencies" has to mean nothing.)

Also, while I wouldn't go so far as to say that Eden is faking her tears over Arei (because that's clearly not true) there's also room for Eden to be crying here because she feels bad about manipulating Teruko, but as established before, still feels like she has to go through with it. Her acting doesn't have to be impeccable if the crying is covering up the crying she would already be doing.

'Cause sometimes, the breaks you take in between sniffles can conceal the breaks you would be taking as you struggle to lie to Teruko's face! Hypothetically.

"Please trust me, Teruko. You're my only hope."

In this hypothetical, I think we have to assume that Eden is just genuinely surprised that the super-smart Teruko wasn't able to see through her act. It might come as a shock that the same Teruko who said that Eden's kindness made her want to stay farther away would now see Eden's pleading as a sign to protect her. (Another judgment of character that Eden made incorrectly.)

And now, for the other hardest part to justify...

With the combination of the soft music (the same music that plays during the "kindness isn't weakness" scene, mind you) and the bokeh lights and the line deliveries and everything, this does feel like pretty convincing evidence that Eden is not the killer. But, if we're talking about the world in which she is, I do think that she still feels genuinely relieved here. The hug isn't directly manipulative, it's just thanking Teruko for giving her another shot at life.

Furthermore, it's a confirmation that, in Teruko's eyes, Eden still isn't a "bad person"-- at least not yet. Eden needs to continue believing that she's a good person with good ideas if she wants to have any hopes of fighting back against the cold and cruel world she was telling Teruko about. If she's become just as cold and cruel as the rest of them, then there's no way for her to be optimistic or kind, and therefore, no way to escape the grief that's haunting her. Eden has yet to learn that a good person is not gold, so that's the only world that she sees.

And, that's Eden's last line of the episode! Before we wrap up, though, I do want to talk about how Eden being the culprit would affect the story as a whole, as you touched upon that in your ask. Mainly, I want to talk about the big problem that many people have with Eden being the killer: what would happen to Teruko if it's proven that one of her closest allies is the killer again? We don't want a repeat of Chapter 1, but how do you avoid that after that hug?

As is my M.O., I'm here to argue that there are two ways you can make the situation different: by making it better or making it worse. In terms of making it better, I think that thefandomenchantress argued for it well in this post. If Eden's gotten her most desperate moment out of the way now, she might have room to be a bit more accepting in her final moments, and be able to reassure Teruko that just because she killed doesn't mean nobody is worthy of trust. In fact, Eden is so sad now because she didn't have enough trust in Arei, and look where that landed her! We could end Eden off on at least being happy that she and Arei were both able to change in the ways that the other wanted for them (Arei becoming more helpful and Eden becoming more responsible) and her being happy that at least the other students get to live.

On the other hand, you could make it worse. Venus-is-thinking and I have discussed together before how different Min and Eden's situations are, because while Min only really tried getting close to Teruko after her crime was already committed, Eden has been trying to become Teruko's friend for ages, before the idea to murder even crossed her mind. This death would be even more personal, as it can more so be argued that Teruko's lack of trust is part of what drove Eden to kill, whereas with Min, it was just that Teruko initially trusting Min opened her more up to hurt. You might argue that this would just cause Teruko to pull away even more harshly (which is still bad), but that's not necessarily the case. Maybe her breakdown this time drives her to get in people's faces so that they'll die even faster and she can rip the bandage off. Along those lines, maybe she'd even try to get closer to those she least trusts right now (like David) because clearly, her curse will cause those who she spends the most time with to die. The circumstances around Teruko have changed, which means that we can't expect the same sort of pressure to necessarily yield the same result.

As for your concerns about Eden's impact on Arei and genuine-seeming emotions, hopefully my main dissertation answers how I'd explain that ^_^

If you're wondering how I feel... well, despite everything that I wrote, I'm honestly kinda thinking that it's Ace at this point. Don't get me wrong, I think that the Eden read is still out there, but given how seemingly little time we have until the culprit is revealed, there may not be enough time to unpack anything close to this before the gavel comes down. Everyone keeps posting their polls about who people think is the killer, and I keep flip-flopping on whether I choose Eden or Ace as my answer. I wouldn't be surprised if either of them did it, except that--

Well, let's be honest. At this point, I'm going to be flabbergasted by whoever the culprit is, just because it's them.

Thank you for the ask, and see you on Friday!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #fanganronpa #drdt spoilers #drdt chapter 2 part 2 spoilers #eden tobisa #ace markey #arei nageishi #teruko tawaki #if you are the person who made any of those three posts or you know who did please send a link! i'll edit the post to include them #i s2g it used to be so easy to find old drdt theory posts but now that EVERYONE is posting ALL THE TIME things get BURIED!!!#(this is the opposite of a problem i love that everyone has so much to say about the new episodes)#anyways i have come down with a rough cold this week so apologies if i am 1) slower or 2) more incomprehensible than usual #hoping it clears up before friday but we'll see how it goes #my theories

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callalillywrites · 2 days

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Shooting His Shot Part 1

The original version of this story is something I've been wanting to expand for a while now. I finally got my chance, and it's become one of my most indulgent stories yet (I think). What was 1200 words is now over 8000 and split into two parts. Part 2 will be available in a few hours.

I had so much fun with this AU that I could easily persuaded to expand the universe a bit more. Ideas are already forming for a few of the other characters, but I'll hold off until I know others want to see them as well. It's not like I don't have plenty of other stories to work on anyway. 😊

The gif below is somewhat the look I was going for with Steve in this fic though he's given a suit jacket to wear. But yeah, this is it. One of my favorite looks of his btw.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Other notable characters: Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen, Sam Wilson, Ari Levinson, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, and honorably mentioned Curtis Everett

Word Count: 4350

Summary: Steve owns a steakhouse that you used to frequent before your ex came into the picture. Now, your ex is gone, and you're ready to head back to the one place you've always felt welcome and wanted. What neither you nor Steve count on is his staff, led by Bucky, launching a full-one assault effort to get you two together. It's time the two of you realize your feelings for one another.

Warnings: abusive ex (Reader's), pining, so much pining, fluff, two ridiculous idiots in love, a whole bunch of matchmakers

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent story made like one of those cheesy rom-com which is my bread and butter at this point. It's proofread, but any mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

PART 2

*****

A few hours before dinnertime rush begins…

It might be his day off, but Steve’s made it such a habit that he can’t stop himself. After all, he keeps hoping that you’ll walk back in the door of his steakhouse one day. Even if it’s been six months since he’s last seen your smiling and pretty face.

To help the hours pass, Steve turns to their books and reviews them. He might as well work on payroll for the week and get the checks ready for the following week. While he’s at it, he might look at their orders and see how they’re sitting as well. Maybe he should venture into the kitchen soon and speak with Bucky about their upcoming inspection. Not that they weren’t ready, but one can never be caught unawares. Besides that, they pride themselves on having one of the cleanest kitchens in the county.

As if conjuring up his best friend, Bucky stands in the doorway with one of their famous lunch specials.

“You’ve been at it long enough, punk. Take a break and eat something.”

Without waiting for an answer, Bucky steps into the room and sets the plate down on Steve’s desk, careless of the few neat piles Steve’s created that morning.

Steve stares at the plate for a few seconds before his stomach makes it known how empty it is. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast after the workout he pushed himself through that morning.

While Steve takes a bite of food, Bucky sinks into one of the other chairs and sprawls himself out. He pulls out his phone and grins at whatever he finds waiting on his screen.

“What’s so funny, jerk?”

Bucky shakes his head, content to sit there and wait for Steve to finish the plate.

Knowing he won’t leave without Steve eating everything, Steve takes another bite. Each new fork or spoonful, he shoots Bucky a look, only getting a smug smirk in return. When Steve finally finishes the plate, he sets it aside and goes back to his computer screen. He’s almost certain Bucky won’t be sticking around too long, having enjoyed the small break he’d gotten in feeding Steve.

When one of their cooks happens to walk by, Bucky notices, too, and shouts out, “Hey, we get that order from the bakery down the street yet? I wanna make sure they sent along some of their best treats.”

Steve’s attention returns to Bucky.

Before he knows it, Bucky smacks his knees and pushes to his feet. With an efficient movement born of years in the kitchen, he grabs up Steve’s empty plate and turns toward the door.

“Hey, punk, you might wanna freshen up. We’re getting a special guest tonight. Maybe this time, you’ll man up and shoot your shot.”

Steve’s brows furrow at Bucky’s words.

At least they do until Jensen walks by with an excitement Steve hasn’t seen in a few months.

“Did you hear, Boss Man?” Jensen asks as he tells Steve about the reservation that’s just come in.

A reservation for one in your name.

*****

You check your new outfit a final time in the mirror, satisfied with your efforts. The makeup you’ve chosen for the evening is minimal since you’re only interested in pleasing yourself.

Almost a year wasted with a man who never appreciated you. A man who wanted to shape and mold you into some ideal that you could never be, never wanted to be.

Six months without visiting one of your favorite places in the entire world. All because that same man had been so jealous of the attention you got from everyone there but especially from one Steve Rogers.

Oh, you can only hope that you might see Steve again that evening, having missed his sweet smile most of all these last several months. He’d been one of the first there to make you feel welcome. One by one, so did the others, but you always came back because of Steve.

Part of you wishes still that he would’ve made a move on you during one of your many visits to the steakhouse over the past few years. Maybe then he would’ve saved you all those months with someone less deserving of you and what you had to offer.

He never did though.

So, you accepted the two of you would just be friendly toward one another, just like you were with all the others there.

You can live with that.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you grab up your jacket and purse.

A final glance in the mirror to ensure your outfit is still perfect for the night you have planned. It’s during this time that your phone pings with the arrival of your Uber.

The ride to the steakhouse takes you through the familiar streets you’ve missed. It amazes you how much they have stayed the same though there are some changes that surprise you. Your favorite used bookshop’s doors have shuttered, but the café you used to visit almost every morning still thrived. A couple of new tiny shops have opened while others remain with a couple that have closed. The eclectic collection of shops was what drew you to this area in the first place when you’d been looking at universities.

Anger fills you for a moment at how manipulative your ex had been with your routine and your life. How could you let him work you like he did? How could he take the very things that made you happiest because he couldn’t handle his own feelings of jealousy and inadequacy?

So many of the hours you used to spend on these few streets, window shopping and getting to know the owners of the shops. They’d been lost to you when you let your ex into your life. Friends lost because of him. You could only wonder what they’ve been up to these past months while you’ve slowly descended into a level of hellish isolation you never wished to be in again.

As the steakhouse appeared in front of you, you perk up. Your hands automatically fidget as they run over your outfit to ensure the few wrinkles from sitting in your Uber didn’t remain when you step out in a few minutes.

A part of you hopes that Steve and all the others haven’t forgotten you.

Yet, why would they remember you?

Friendly or not, you’re still just a customer to them. A good tipper, sure, and always courteous to every employee from the bussers to the owners. You’ve never had a reason to complain about the food or the service from them, and you always tried to make sure they had no reason to complain about you.

Over the years, you’ve even gotten to know a bit about each of them. Jake’s inability to flirt despite giving him lessons whenever he served you. Nat’s intense loyalty to those she works with and her regulars, including you. Sam’s sweet but serious nature. Bucky’s strive for perfection with each dish that leaves the kitchen. Ari’s innate ability to know just what drink you need the moment you step inside (always a mocktail for you). Peter’s awkward friendliness that’s just downright infectious.

Then, there’s Steve.

Oh, you’ve learned a lot about him over the last couple of years.

He’s never been one to back down from the rowdier customers, standing firmly on the side of his staff. It’s something you’ve seen firsthand a time or two, and you’re always impressed with the way he manages to keep his anger in check. At least, inside the restaurant. You’re not unaware of the bloody knuckles he’s come back in with after escorting these obnoxious customers from his place. No doubt they deserved it, but you did worry about the consequences for him and the possibility of pressed charges.

Steve’s also been the first to lend a helping hand to those less fortunate in the neighborhood. If it’s not a free meal to help refill their empty stomachs, it’s offering them small tasks for which he handsomely pays them, even those that take less than ten minutes. He always makes sure they get enough to help through the day or even a few days. You’ve seen the kindness that comes from him and his staff, and it’s one of the many reasons your crush on him hasn’t dwindled over the years. No, it’s blossomed in ways you kinda wished it wouldn’t. There’s little hope of him ever seeing you as anything more than a valuable customer.

You’re brought out of your reverie when your Uber driver clears their throat.

Embarrassed, you quickly apologize and wrap up your business with them, stepping from the car and waving them off.

The large wooden doors leading into the steakhouse speak of an understated elegance and welcome that calls out to you. Beckons you to enter the establishment and know you’re among friends, among family.

It’s a feeling you’ve missed greatly these last several months.

Taking a breath, you pull one of the doors and step into the small entryway. The glazed inner doors don’t hide the rich interior within though they do lend some privacy to those already inside. The place is packed as usual with some guests standing or sitting on either side of the entryway, waiting for their tables.

You smile as you catch sight of a familiar face standing next to an unfamiliar one at the host stand.

Without hesitation, you open the glazed door while your smile widens into a full grin. “Well, well, well, aren’t you looking spiffier than ever, Sam?”

Sam’s head shoots up and his smile matches your own. He steps around the stand and closes the distance between the two of you. A low whistle comes out as he moves his finger in a circular motion, getting you to give him a small spin. Another whistle escapes him.

“You are a sight for sore eyes. It hasn’t been the same since we last saw you here.”

The soft reprimand isn’t missed, but you don’t hesitate when he embraces you, his forgiveness as quickly given. In your ear, he adds softly, “He hasn’t been the same.”

Your brows furrow at this new piece of information.

Yet, you’re not given a chance to think on his words before Sam’s sweeping you away from the foyer and deeper into the steakhouse.

“Come, your table isn’t ready just yet, but I know some other people who want to see your lovely face again.”

Within a few more steps, he’s pulling out a barstool at the full bar off to the side of the steakhouse. Another friendly face turns to greet you with a big grin on his fully bearded, handsome face.

“Ari,” you say with another genuine smile for the man behind the bar.

Sweeping his longer than before locks from his face, Ari flashes you a grin of his own. “Gorgeous, long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

“Doing much better since I dropped the one-eighty anchor weighing me down.”

Ari’s grin grows. “Good riddance. For your good fortune, I have just the thing for you. One of my newest concoctions that I think you’ll enjoy. On me.”

“Oh, no, I can’t let you do that.”

You’re not allowed to go any further as Ari’s large hand settles over yours. His gaze softens into one of sheer fondness and full sincerity. “Yeah, you can. We’ve all missed you. It hasn’t been the same since you stopped coming in.”

“I’m just a customer,” you say, not fully understanding.

Ari shakes his head. A sympathetic smile takes over his original welcoming grin. “You’ve really no idea what you’ve been to all of us, have you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, setting about mixing various ingredients in the special station he created some time ago. You lose track of all that he’s mixing and matching until he finally pours the concoction in a glass and tops it with a tiny umbrella in your favorite color.

The explosion of flavors that come has you wiggling a happy little dance on the stool. While you can’t help thinking the mix shouldn’t work, it does in ways that are pleasant and hits you with a burst of such happiness. It’s such that you can’t help taking another long sip.

“Oh, you’re a true genius, Ari.” Your words are punctuated with a sip. “Mm, I love it. I’ll have to make this a standing order every time I come in from now on.”

Beaming, Ari taps the bar. “I’m holding you to that, gorgeous.”

Another customer ends up taking Ari away, but it’s just as well. You’re more than content to continue sipping your new favorite mocktail, one of many Ari’s presented to you. The man’s a notorious flirt, watching him rake in several tips over the next few minutes, but he’s also a connoisseur when it comes to alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

He comes back at the same time Sam reappears.

“Your table is ready, pretty lady.”

Saying a quick farewell to Ari, you take Sam’s offered elbow and allow him to lead you to what you believe is your usual table.

It’s more than a little surprising when he sweeps past the main dining area and through a hallway towards what you assume are the back offices and other personnel only rooms. He doesn’t stop until he pushes open a door and reveals a table set for two in a private room.

“What’s all this? Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam merely grins as he leads you to the table and holds out your chair for you. It’s only after he’s given you a menu you don’t need that he says, “I’m trying to make sure Bucky wins the bet this time.”

“Bet? What bet? You have a bet that concerns me?”

Rather than answer, Sam shoots you a wink and disappears through the door, closing it softly behind him.

A moment later, soft music drifts through hidden speakers. The melody is low but romantic though that does little to answer any of the questions this evening’s brought so far.

*****

Steve’s just finishing up the last of the paperwork when Bucky barrels into his office.

“She’s here, punk.” Bucky slams his door shut and gives Steve a thorough though quick once-over. “Is that what you call freshening up? I’m never going to win my money back from Sam if you keep this up.”

“Aren’t you slammed right now? What are you doing here?”

Bucky waves his hand in dismissal. “Everett’s got it for the next few minutes. I’m here to make sure you don’t mess this up a second time.”

Steve’s trying to follow his best friend. Really, he is.

Bucky just isn’t making much sense at this point.

“Mess what up? Buck—”

Another wave of Bucky’s hand has Steve going silent. Strong hands move his chair out of the way before he’s being tossed a garment bag.

“I had Nat pick this up before she clocked in. It should still fit, so hurry up and put it on. You can’t keep a beautiful woman waiting too long.”

Still not following but at least complying for the moment, Steve unzips the bag and finds a nice button-down shirt with what appear to be new pants. A suit jacket completes the look though he’s unsure why he needs such clothing.

“Nat’s got a good eye,” Bucky muses aloud as Steve pulls the ensemble from the bag. “That color will certainly impress her. Now, come on. We don’t have all night here.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve hurries to change his clothes.

If Bucky’s going to be like this, it’s easier to just go along and figure it out along the way. At least that’s been Steve’s experience every time Bucky’s been excited about something. It goes for everything from the latest technology to the ladies, and it’s been like this since the two became friends so many years ago.

The only time it really changed was the six months or so after they both discharged from the army. While they’d both seen combat, something happened to Bucky that he still refuses to discuss most days. Those were the hardest months of their friendship, but Steve refused to walk away, even when Bucky practically shoved him out the door a few times over.

Their eventual takeover of Bucky’s grandparents’ restaurant helped give them both a new direction and strengthened their friendship into something stronger than before they’d enlisted together.

His thoughts clear as he finishes putting on the shoes Bucky hands him, also in Steve’s size.

“Better?” Steve arches a brow at Bucky in question.

Another thorough once-over has Bucky reaching out and unbuttoning the top button of Steve’s shirt. A quick tug of the collar soon brings a grin to Bucky’s satisfied features. With a nod, he says, “Better. Let’s go win your girl, punk.”

*****

You aren’t left alone for long as Jake and Peter come into the room. While Jake’s carrying several items rather precariously, Peter follows him with flatware in their signature napkin wraps.

The fancy cloth’s colors have changed, you note, from a deep blue to a burgundy red. It’s a sign the steakhouse is gearing up for their fall season. Each season has its specific color as you learned from Nat some time ago. Something started by Bucky’s mom back when she and Bucky’s dad ran the restaurant.

“Hey, Pete, how’s school going?” you ask as the younger man moves out of Jake’s way.

Your gaze briefly leaves Peter’s face to take in the small crystal vase with a mini bouquet of seasonal flowers. Their signature glasses follow it on the table as well as everything else one might need at a steakhouse. The table soon overflows with all the items those in the main dining room have though the table itself is a bit too small to accommodate so much.

Peter pulls your attention back to him, saying, “I graduated a couple months ago. Classes at university aren’t bad though they’re not leaving me as much time to work as I’d like. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers promoted me to server as my graduation gift. They say I earned it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you did.” You grin at him, quite proud of him. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“It’s okay.” Something in Peter’s voice tells you it’s not really, but he’s also not going to hold it against you.

Hoping to make amends for your absence in some way, you turn to Jake. “Well, maybe I can make it up to you if Jake here doesn’t mind sharing me with you tonight. I’d love to do something for such a momentous occasion, Peter. I know how hard you’ve worked through school and in school.”

Jake nods quite enthusiastically. “Not a problem with me. Nat might complain though.”

“No complaints from me,” Nat calls from the doorway, walking past with some plates from the kitchen. “He should be joining soon. Jensen. Parker, make sure he doesn’t screw this up again.”

“We’re not miracle workers,” Jake quips.

With that, Nat’s gone though you can make out her laughter down the hall.

Turning back to Jake and Peter, you ask, “Who is he? What is he not supposed to screw up?”

The two exchange a glance before Jake clears his throat and mumbles, “Boss Man.”

It might’ve been some time since you’d been at the restaurant, but you know Jake only calls one man that name in this place.

Steve.

You’re not sure what Steve has to do with you or why he’d be joining you. After all, you only made a reservation for yourself. The thought of someone else joining you hadn’t entered your mind.

Yet, you can’t say you don’t like the idea. You, in fact, really like it. It’s been something you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember and every time you’ve come here single. If only he had made a move, then maybe you might believe that he’s interested in you now. Nothing in the few years you’ve known him has hinted that he likes or liked you the way you like him.

Before you can get too far down that rabbit hole, another voice breaks the quiet of the room.

“There’s the most beautiful doll in the world.”

You smile as Bucky enters and pulls you from your seat for a hug.

“We’ve missed you around here. My kitchen staff has suffered dearly with your absence. Lost all their inspiration without your unique combinations.”

Shaking your head, you accept his kiss on your cheek and give him one in return.

“I’m sure you keep them on their toes plenty. It is nice to be back though. I’ve missed you all, too.”

Before he lets you go, he whispers, “If the punk is too dumb to shoot his shot, I just might if it means keeping you around. You light up this place in ways it hasn’t since my ma retired.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back.

Leave it to Bucky and the others to make you feel so special even after such a long time being gone. It’s your sincerest hope to never stop coming here, not letting anyone keep you away from somewhere you’ve always felt welcome and wanted.

“You’re very cute,” you whisper back, “but you’re not really my type.”

He chuckles, not offended in the least. It’s not the first time you two have had this conversation. It probably won’t be the last, either, which suits you just fine.

At last, he releases you from his loose hold.

“I should get back to the kitchen. Don’t need Everett or the others to burn it down.”

You shake your head fondly. “Give Curtis more credit than that. He’s a wonderful sous chef, and you’re lucky to have him. I’m glad you took my thoughts to heart where he’s concerned.”

“How could I not? You’ve never led us astray before,” Bucky says, shooting you a wink and a farewell nod. His heavy footsteps can be heard on their way back to the kitchen where he’s always felt his most calm.

When your gaze follows Bucky’s path, it soon collides with the one person you’ve been hoping to see all day.

Your smile grows once more. It’s almost certain your cheeks will be sore in the morning from all the smiling you’ve done this evening. In a breath, you say his name.

“Hey, bijou,” he says, his voice low but warm.

You do your best not to fidget, to seek out any invisible wrinkles in your outfit.

It’s taking everything in you to keep your gaze locked with his even as you take in the navy-blue suit he’s wearing. No tie and the top button unbuttoned does something for him in ways you’re wholly unprepared for. This man is too handsome by half, and he doesn’t even know it. How fair is that to any poor woman who happens upon him?

At last, you find your voice. “You look handsome. Big date?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer as Nat walks by again. She’s wearing a big smirk when she says, “If he’s not a complete idiot, it is.”

Your confusion isn’t lessening while Steve sends a look at Nat though he relaxes a bit, his voice almost amused. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Not only are my tables handled, boss, but I have time to make sure you win your lady.”

You don’t miss the way Nat’s gaze trails to you, her smirk intact, before she returns her attention to Steve.

“Don’t mess it up,” she says, moving away, “boss.”

The offended incredulity on Steve’s face has you fighting laughter. You’ve never seen him quite so put upon and by his staff, no less. It’s not like Bucky doesn’t tease him from time to time as you’ve witnessed. This is the first time though that the rest of the staff has joined in. You honestly can’t help wanting to laugh at the spectacle, even if you don’t quite get what they’re trying to do and what it has to do with you.

Steve seems to shake himself when his gaze finds yours. His throat clears before he finally says, “You are stunning, bijou. Special occasion?”

“Yeah. Celebrating me.” You can’t help the heat that rushes into your cheeks as you say the words. They’re so much easier to consider when you think them, but saying them aloud is something else entirely. You quickly add, “I also really missed this place.”

I missed you.

You manage to keep that thought from spilling out, leaving you open for rejection.

Eager to keep that thought from coming out, you glance around the sparsely decorated room. It’s clear this wasn’t a private dining area before, but no clue exists on what it was before the others must’ve hastily redecorated this space. For what purpose, you can’t say with any certainty.

Yet, there is a hope.

The room might not have much, but it does have enough to appear something cozy, something charming. Maybe a bit more mood lighting, then the others would succeed in whatever they were creating.

When your gaze finally returns to Steve, you swallow.

He remains in the doorway, but the look he has while watching you is something you’re not wholly prepared for. One corner of his mouth is curled upwards while his eyes are soft but focused solely on you. It’s almost like he hasn’t stopped looking at you as you take in the room. That’s a heady sensation indeed for you as you haven’t experienced that ever.

Not any of your exes. Especially not Brock. Not in the way Steve’s doing anyway.

There’s wonder and perhaps longing staring back at you.

It’s that look that compels you to ask, “Would like to join me? I mean, if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“I’d really like that if you’re sure you don’t mind,” he says, pushing off the doorway.

You shake your head. “I don’t mind.”

*****

Main Masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #x female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #shooting his shot #restaurant au #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #jake jensen #peter parker #sam wilson #ari levinson #fluff #matchmaking

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