#this shit is so sick & twisted but it’s true

[reikunrei]

one of my favorite cryptid/monster creation theories is that something, even if it was entirely made up, becomes real purely because people believe it enough, and I keep thinking about that in relation to henry's powers/the way he wanted to change the world

like, rather than it being actual timeline splitting or time travel in order to change things (thinking specifically of that shot of him rewinding the grandfather clock, literally manipulating time), it's just like... he wills these things to happen because he believed hard enough in it? if that makes sense?

like he still has powers, that's all real, but rather than it being actual time manipulation, it's closer to like... faulty or changed memories that then retroactively become real. as a tiny example, like brenner's hair inexplicably changing style or graying too fast is just bc henry remembered it wrong, but that doesn't mean it's not real

i just feel like it's an interesting thought since henry leaned so heavily into making false memories or interactions with his victims (chrissy's mom in the bathroom, the cop saying he recognized fred, max seeing her mom after leaving the letters for her family) but they all stemmed from the truth, and perhaps could have become real if the victims believed it hard enough and gave in to their pain and fear

idk! like... i feel like it would be a cool twist to have it be a manipulation of memories that retroactively changes stuff, but the old version still leaks through, rather than it directly being like time travel and stuff

[1ncandescentrage]

I look forward for when my ear infection is gone. And to continue developing a body and hair ritual out of love.

[jackass-jones]

Oh god. It’s october 4th 😰

[brunetterightsactivist]

Telling myself to stop getting so antsy and excited and wait the full year that I’ve been back on the pill for it to fully take effect and regulate itself and then my body and appetite and brain are going to go back to normal lol

[cybergirrll]

fuse

hamzah x reader

synopsis- power goes out in your apartment complex, your friend hamzah who lives on the floor above you stops by in the middle of the night

fluff?!!! friends to lovers?!! (p.s. i personally think if you listen to pretty girl by clairo while you read it makes the whole thing a lot cuter)

-

about 5 minutes ago, you’d woken up for no apparent reason. you figured you’d drift back into your previous ever so peaceful slumber, but you were wrong.

so now, annoyed at your minds inability to fall back asleep you stared at the wall, mindlessly observing how the moonlight ever so slightly lit up the back of the curtains, the drapes allowing the softest light to mix amongst the darkness the room withheld.

usually when you awoke in the night like this, you fell back asleep almost immediately, having no memory of it in the morning. this time however, your heart fluttered in an exhilarating way. maybe it was the overload of coffee you had that morning, or maybe it was the boy upstairs.

hamzah lived on floor 3 in apartment A. you lived on floor 2 in apartment A. you’d met about four months ago, when there was a mix up with the mail addresses and you were getting coupons for cat litter. quickly, you became great friends. you were kind of lonely, with your friends living on the other side of town, and him being alone most of the time with his two cats. you loved having movie nights, going grocery shopping together at the store down the block, pet sitting red and blue, meeting on the balcony, complaining about your annoying neighbors, talking about movies, music, games and everything. it was one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had.

however, in the past week, something felt different. you tried to suppress the growing attraction that swelled your heart, twisting your stomach with butterflies whenever you saw him. it was so corny you felt sick. he was only a friend, you’d never even thought about liking him like that before but it crept up on you so suddenly, like an unexpected wave that hit you from behind, knocking you over and drifting you out into the cerulean blue sea. you weren’t used to feeling like this. so, you ignored it.

he was the last thing on your mind when you went to sleep and the first when you woke up in the middle of the night. you couldn’t help it. he was so awkward but in his own way where it was funny and sweet and so charming and hes so gentle and nice and so funny and he laughs at all your jokes and makes you laugh and his smile was so cute and his hair is adorable and he’s so smart and cute andUuooaagghhhh my god. he was driving you absolutely insane.

you felt so nervous to be around him, like he might sense what’s in your eyes and then you would implode right then and there. when he talks to you about how he used to be so depressed living on his own and how it got better but he still feels that empty void in him sometimes, you just want to kiss him on the mouth right then and there and tell him everything’s going to be okay and that you loved him so much and you wanted him to be happy forever. these kinds of thoughts kept you up the past few nights.

you checked the time on your phone 1:15 AM. welp. you were already up. you leaned over, clicking your lamp on. the bulb didn’t light up. you clicked it off and on again and still, there was no dim glow you hoped for. you peered down at the wall where the lamp was plugged in. “hmmm.” you got up and flicked the light switch by your door, your overhead light unresponsive.

a soft knock on your front door.

you were creeped out now, sure you were about to have some true crime documentary made about you. you waited for a moment, another soft knock. it wasn’t in your imagination. taking another deep breath, you slipped out of your room and over to the front door. you peeked through the peephole, relieved, and a bit nervous, to see hamzah.

you opened the door. “you scared the shit out of me.” his eyes looked sleepy, curls unruly. “sorry,” he smiled softly “i just wanted to check on you. i think a power line broke or something.” you stared at him for a moment, gripping the door a little tighter when you realized you were only in your underwear and an oversized t shirt.

“um- yeah. yeah, i’m okay. why were you up?” you tugged your t shirt down a little bit to cover the tops of your thighs. thankfully his gaze stayed fixed on your eyes. “i was editing a video, and then uhh- everything went dark. yeah.” he chuckled softly

“yeah you look tire-“ “why were you up?” he blurted.

“oh- i, no sorry what were you saying.”

“oh nothing,” you giggled a little.

“i just woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t go back to sleep.”

he nodded, smiling softly, a little flustered.

you two stood there for a few quiet moments, just looking at each other. you felt so fluttery, like you were in a dream. maybe it was the eeriness of the situation, the fact that it was one in the morning and he was at your door like he’d usually be during the day. you weren’t sure if you should invite him in, or if it was a stupid idea because he looked tired. but then why was he here? it was almost the middle of the night and it’s not like a power outage would wake you up, so he would’ve assumed you were asleep.

he smiled softly at you and turned to walk away, taking a few steps before you ran out and grabbed his hand. “wait.”

he turned around, his eyes wide and soft in the darkness of the hallway. shoot. now he was looking at you and now you had to explain yourself but you don’t even know why you did that, you just couldn’t let him leave. you were still holding onto his hand

“stay.”

“you want me to?” hamzah’s voice was gentle, soft, drizzling down your spine like warm honey. he was talking to you this way, his eyes glimmering, so relaxed, so sleepy, so dark, so him.

you nodded, calculating your next moves in your head. this moment felt so perfect, you didn’t want to let it slip through your fingers.

you could lead him inside, just to go back talking again like the friends you were but something about this, standing in the hallway now made you want it to last. you wanted to capture this moment and keep it in a jar and live in that jar forever, you wanted to pour whatever was in that jar into your tea every morning, hoping it gave you that same unreal feeli-

his hand in yours. he squeezed it softly.

without thinking he laced his fingers with yours, slowly led you back inside your apartment and closed your door. you turned to face him, your back against the door. he moved closer, big brown eyes peering into yours, trying to figure something out.

you just looked and looked at him until he smiled at you. he’d never been like this with anyone, really. but he liked this feeling with you. you place your hand on his shoulder, awkwardly moving up to the side of his neck.

his hand fell down to your waist, other hand still holding yours tightly. he looks at you, a little nervous. you nod. he mumbles your name softly, hand fisting the side of your cotton shirt.

“you’re my favorite,” he mumbles again, under his breath. you bury your fingers in the back of his head and gently pull him closer until his nose brushes against yours. you can tell he’s a little nervous.

you kiss his lips softly and then pull away a little, looking into his eyes. he leans back in, hand cupping your face as he kisses you again. he was so warm and gentle against you, afraid you would shatter if he wasn’t soft enough with you.

he didn’t think he was much for affection, but the way you sighed against his mouth when he kissed you made him want more of you. he wanted to kiss you all day all the time forever. god he liked you so much. how did he go so long without this?

you pulled away a little, forehead against his. “hamzah i-“ a car alarm starts blaring outside, red headlights pulsing and flashing faintly from outside, piercing the dark. you hear muffled chatter and complaints from outside. hamzah pulled away, glancing towards the window and muttering something about bad timing.

“i um- i should head back to my place.” he shoved his hands in his pockets. you open your mouth to speak, hesitating and then just nodding. “okay, yeah um-“ you slide off of the door and open it for him. he looks at you quickly and mumbles a “night” before he slips out of the door and you close it behind him.

you slide down against the door, knees tucked against your chest on the floor. the car alarm finally died down outside. what were you even supposed to do now? go back to sleep?

-

hope u enjoyed!! sorry if this totally sucks 🤧

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[secretlyazombi3]

Setting Up a Christmas Tree .ᐟ⋆.˚

 leon kennedy x gn! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  2k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ SFW, fluff, 2nd person, gender neutral reader, re4r!leon, younger reader, (also you guys have cats ^_^)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: you and leon buy and set up a christmas tree yay >_<

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leon took careful steps out of his new Jeep (which, somehow, had not been in a crash yet) and moved with intent to make sure he wouldn’t slip on the ice beneath him. He walked over to open the car door for you like a true gentleman.

“Thanks-” you said as you took a step out the car, you paused as you felt your foot begin to slide on ice.

“Woah, careful, babe.” Leon warned, placing his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you held onto the car and tapered out. “You alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah, only a little embarrassed..” you replied as you treaded out onto the snow.

“Well, I’m sure feeling a bit embarrassed would be better than being in pain from slipping on ice and falling onto your ass, right?” Leon responded, a hint of a teasing tone laced in his voice as he took your hand. 

“Yeah, I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly. You suddenly became incredibly aware of how cold it was outside. You felt the icy, crisp around you and felt the wind brush by ever so often. 

The sun was gone, disappeared behind a blanket of light gray clouds, as if it had also gotten too icy to be out. A sprinkling of small snowflakes trickled from the sky and twirled in the wind like little dancers. 

Part of you just wanted to just find a tree as soon as possible and go back home with Leon so you wouldn’t just be standing here in a tall duvet of pearly white snow, which was wetting the bottom of your pants.

You trudged through the snow, smiling ever so slightly when you heard the satisfying crunch of the snow under your feet with each step forward you took towards the row of Christmas trees. 

Another gush of wind blew by, pushing some of the light snow on the ground into the air, making you shiver from the freezing temperatures. 

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Leon asked quietly as he gently squeezed your hand. You could see his breath in the chilly air.

“Take my jacket.” Leon suggested as he began to pull off his winter coat. 

“No, Leon, keep your jacket on-” You tried to protest but Leon handed you his coat anyways, giving you a weary look. 

“You’re shivering, babe… Just take the jacket, I don’t want you to get sick.” Leon said. 

You looked down at the jacket, then back up at Leon. “But then you’ll get cold…” you retorted. 

“Me? Come on. You know my line of work, if I could survive all that shit I’m sure I’m capable of surviving a little windchill.” You nodded a bit and reluctantly wrapped the jacket around you, which protected you a bit better from the wind. You knew Leon wasn’t going to let you reject his offer, so you gave in easily. Leon walked towards one tree he randomly picked out, he grabbed onto one of the branches with two fingers and twisted it, which caused a bit of pine to fall off the tree and get lost in the sea of snow. 

“Do you like this tree? It’s a good height…” Leon asked as he turned to you.

You looked the tree up and down, it was missing a few branches in a few places. You stayed quiet for a second before replying.

“Eh… not really. It just doesn’t speak to me, you know?” 

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Speak to you…?” “It’s just not that pretty or unique.” “They’re trees, they all look the same…” Leon mumbled. He didn’t really understand your thinking, but he’d let you pick out the tree as long as it made you happy. 

You walked down the rows of trees, looking for a tree you liked that was also a good height. Leon just followed behind you like a lost puppy, letting you take the lead, he trusted your judgement more. 

“I think I like this one.” You said once you finally found a tree that actually looked pretty.

“Yeah?” Leon asked, putting his arm around you. He looked at the tree - all the trees looked the same to him, but if you liked it, he did too. And he wanted to get out of the freezing cold as much as you did.

You nodded your head and smiled as you looked at the tree. It was super pretty, it’d look great in your home. 

“Alright, then. I’ll get someone to chop down the tree.” Leon said, walking away from you for a moment. 

The tree had to be chopped down, obviously, and the quickest way was with a chainsaw. Leon tensed a bit, the sound of the chainsaw blades whirring was definitely reminding him of some unpleasant memories… 

“You’ve got snow in your hair.” You teased as you smiled at Leon, which grounded him back to reality. He truly hated thinking about Spain. He pushed aside those memories of the past and just… focused on you instead. 

You headed inside to pay, the warm air immediately slammed you the second you opened the door. Leon paid, of course, and you were reluctant to leave the comfort of the cozy little building.

You rushed inside Leon’s car. The tree had been strapped to the top of the car by the employees, Leon still checked to make sure it was on there sturdy.

You were trembling in the passenger’s seat of Leon’s car. The inside of the car was barely warmer than the outside, but a small improvement was still an improvement. 

Leon got into the driver’s seat and turned the car on before placing his hand on your thigh and gripping it lightly. When you glanced over at him, you noticed his nose, cheeks and ears had turned pink from the snowy weather outside. He looked so cute…

“You ready to go home?” He asked. 

“Mhm..” You replied. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were relieved when you got home and managed to escape the frigidness of the outside world. You turned the heater on all the way nearly the second you stepped inside. 

Your pet cats were scattered across the home, resting under blankets and on beds in an attempt to also escape the chilliness, but one did greet you at the door. 

Leon had insisted on bringing the tree in himself. He didn’t want you to have to do any work. He managed to get it in the house just fine by himself, and he set it up in the stand. 

“Alright, now you can decorate.” Leon said as he smiled at you. 

“You don’t want to decorate with me?” You frowned. 

He tilted his head to the side a bit like a confused puppy. “I thought-” he started before pausing. For whatever reason, he didn’t realize you wanted to decorate with him. He never had decorated a Christmas tree before, except for the few times when he was really little. So he just thought you’d think he was going to do everything wrong. 

“I mean, I can help, yeah.” Leon agreed as he moved a bit of hair out of your face. “If it makes you happy,” he added. He smiled ever so slightly seeing you smile at him. 

You threw some Christmas cookies into the oven and put on your favorite Christmas movie. You brought out a box of ornaments and placed it on the couch beside your cat, who was sleeping. She had curled up around herself, wanting to use herself as a heater, and was purring quietly. 

You handed Leon a couple of ornaments and smiled. “You look so cute when you smile, you know that, sunshine?” Leon teased as he began to help decorating the tree.

Leon was taller, so he placed all his ornaments near the top of the tree for you so the ornaments would be evenly distributed around the tree.

You put the ornaments on the sections of the tree you could reach. You had bought an ornament set filled with limited colors that compliment one another to make your guys’ tree more appealing to the eye.

“You like being organized, huh? Leon commented as he noticed that the tree had a color scheme. 

“It looks nicer. I don’t want the tree to be an eyesore with clashing colors.” 

“It could be all messy and disorganized and I’d still love it because I know that you were the one who put it up.” Leon replied as he reached up to put on some more ornaments around the top. 

You reached over for a different type of ornament. You had bought a little ornament where you could slide in a polaroid picture, so you put a polaroid picture of you and Leon from a few months back. 

You said nothing and handed it to Leon, silently watching his face as he looked at it. You finally saw him fully smile, not just another half or slight smile. 

“Cute.” Leon said simply, not wanting to be caught gushing over an ornament. He hung it up near the front of the tree where everyone could see it. 

“You want me to give you a boost on your shoulders so you can put up that star, hm?” Leon asked. 

“How gentlemanly,” you joked. 

“Anything for you.” Leon returned as he kneeled down. You set your foot down on his shoulder, and he wrapped his hand around your leg. You couldn’t believe that Leon was basically letting you use him like a stepstool…

“I got you.” Leon assured you. You set down your second foot, attempting to keep yourself steady and balanced, giggling a bit feeling Leon’s strong hands around you. You put on the star as quickly as possible so you could get off. 

“Good job, babe.” Leon praised you once you got off of him and stood on the floor. Leon stood up, rubbing his shoulders afterwards. 

“You okay, old man?” You asked teasingly. 

“Excuse you…” Leon replied, feigning offense. “I’m not that much older than you, babe..” Leon scoffed. 

“Right, well you’re still older and getting joint pain so, maybe you should look into a retirement home.” You taunted.

“No way. If I went to a retirement home, who would be keeping you out of trouble?” Leon quipped, moving to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Who said I needed you to keep me out of trouble, hm?” “Just today alone, you needed me to keep you from falling on ice and damn near busting your ass.” 

“I-” you started, before simply pouting at Leon. You couldn’t argue about that. “That… doesn’t count.” 

“Mhm, you just know I’m right…” Leon mumbled into your neck. 

“Just.. shut up and watch the movie I put on.” You muttered, playfully attempting to push Leon away. 

“Mm.. yes, amore mio…” Leon replied obediently. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A few batches of cookies later, you were sitting by the fireplace to warm up as you looked up at the decorated tree. You caught a whiff of the fresh pine scent coming from the tree, one of the reasons you loved real trees. 

Leon was taking scant small bites of the Christmas cookies you had baked, you had already had your fair share of cookies…

Since you were both freezing, you made two cups of hot chocolate for you and Leon. Leon was more of a coffee guy, but he was willing to change things up for the holidays. 

Leon sat next to you, pulling you close, nibbling a bit on your neck. His body was warm, he felt like a giant personal heater. 

He wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your side. “It’s getting a bit late, you know. Maybe you should come to bed with me…” Leon purred calmly into your neck. 

“Yeah, I agree..” You replied as Leon kept kissing your neck. “We can cuddle.” you suggested.

“Cuddle?” Leon repeated lowly. Leon moved his kisses up your neck and kissed your cheek before moving to get up. “If that’s what you want…” Leon said as he offered you a hand to help you get up and follow him to your guys’ room. 

[pankowperfection]

His to Keep

Warnings: slightly dark JJ, branding, oral (f receiving), possessive JJ, 18+

A/N: haven't written anything in a while so please be nice. Unedited

You'd hurried to keep up with him as he ran away from the council meeting, the intent to cause some trouble clear in his eyes. You knew you shouldn't leave him alone which is why you found yourself standing idly by, watching in equal parts awe and horror as he took his rage out.

You'd never seen him like this, so reckless and angry. You hated to admit it but a very small part of you was extremely turned on at the sight of him losing control.

After what felt like hours you had finally convinced him to head to your secret hide out, the perfect spot to lay low until the heat died down.

He was pacing back and forth, clearly still extremely upset about what had gone down.

"I am just so sick of this shit y/n. I never get to keep anything, it all always manages to slip right through my fingers."

He still had that wild look in his eyes. Sweat coating his tan skin, hair perfectly messy. He'd honestly never looked sexier.

"That's not true J and you know it," you attempt to reason with him. "Just look. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere."

He gives you a dark chuckle, shadows dancing in his blue eyes in a way that makes him look nothing like the care-free surfer boy you were used to dealing with.

"Right. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before you leave too. Everyone always does."

He turns his back to you, leaning into the window frame and watching for any signs of trouble below. The way his shirt is clinging to his muscular back has your thoughts racing, desperate to find a way to calm him down.

An idea starts to form in the back of your mind, the image of him with the flame from the lighter dancing in his eyes flickering through your head, reminding you of the heat that had flushed through your system while you watched him take his own twisted sense of justice.

"I'm not going anywhere JJ. Let me prove it to you."

You quickly walk over to him, fishing around in his pocket before finding the lighter. You can see the questions dancing through his mind, wondering what you could possibly be up to. You hold it up between the two of you, knowing what you need to do to prove your loyalty.

"Mark me. Brand me with your ring so that everyone knows that I belong to you. That you own me. Permanently."

His pupils dilate, the black almost overtaking the blue as he scans your face for any kind of uncertainty. When he doesn't find any you watch the hunger take over. His lips are on you in an instant, tongue tracing the seam of your lips before demanding entry as he walks you back to the couch.

He quickly comes down on top of you, one hand tangling in your hair to angle your head just how he wants. His mouth leaves a blazing path down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking deep bruises into your skin. You know your panties are ruined, a few kisses from JJ and you could already feel the band tightening in your core.

"Fuck J, feels so good. I need you."

You feel him smirk against your skin, making quick work of your flimsy crop top to continue his handiwork. Each breast gets equal attention, teasing licks and kisses over your nipples before he sucks harshly, bruises forming instantly from the intense pressure. The build up has you babbling nonsense, begging him to please do something.

"Such a good girl f'me y/n," he whispers into your ear, his ringed fingers slowly climbing up the sensitive skin over the inside of your thigh. The cool metal makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading as he starts to slide down your body. Your knees part for him on instinct, hips arching up in search of the friction you desperately need.

He peels your shorts and panties off in one smooth motion, settling onto his knees between your parted legs. His broad shoulders pin you in place, not a single chance of getting away which only makes you wetter. You're unable to look away as his mouth trails up higher and higher, his warm breath tickling your aching pussy.

Without breaking eye contact he slides his signature ring off his finger, holding it with the end of his shirt before holding it in the flame from the lighter. The sight itself is enough to have you clenching around nothing, the warm colors from the flames bathing his tan skin in an orange glow.

"Eyes on me sweetheart," he commands, leaning down to lick an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Your body trembles at the simple touch, bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your pussy.

He wastes no time getting to work, his skilled tongue knowing just how to drive you crazy. The flattened surface of his tongue flicking over your clit has your eyes threatening to roll, legs starting to shake with how close to your release you are already.

At the exact right moment he presses the hot metal into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand joins the mix, two fingers roughly thrusting into you. The pleasure mixed with the pain sends you right over the edge, falling apart with a scream as you watch him brand you.

The way his eyes are glued to his mark on your skin is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. His breathing is almost as ragged as yours, the tent in his shorts a tell tale sign of just how much he enjoyed marking you as his. By the feral look in his eyes you knew the night was far from over, hoping you had enough energy to show him just how devoted you are to being his.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty one

authors note: foreshadowing? planted seeds? twists? who knows.

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and drama

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“You know we should probably be getting up soon.”

“Probably.”

Solana waits for him to move. He doesn’t, but neither does she. “Ro?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t moved.”

He makes a sound, hands shifting just a bit, clearly trying to be mindful of the Saniderm still covering one of her new tattoos. “Neither have you.”

Solana opens her mouth to protest, but she can’t, because he’s right. They’ve been in this position for a good hour now, him laying on top of her, in between her legs, hugging her, head resting comfortably on her chest as she plays with his hair that’s down, free, in its natural state. 

It’s comfortable, to say the least. She enjoys being laid up with him, being close to him, but she also knows that they have a long day ahead of them, a day that can’t start as long as they’re still in bed together.

Even Dulce who snores quietly in her newest princess bed.

“True,” she agrees. “But, I can’t move unless you move, so….”

Roman grunts quietly, adjusting himself on top of her. “I’m not moving.”

“Ro…..”

“How have you been feeling?”

Somehow, Solana knows exactly what he’s referring to despite it being a general, almost vague question. 

“The morning sickness has gotten a little better.” Thank God. That constant feeling of nausea as well as having to vomit every morning was becoming borderline unbearable. “No bleeding….” Her voice lowers. Solana doesn’t really like talking about that situation. Regardless of everything being, hopefully, okay now, it was still a terrifying experience that she’d rather not revisit. 

And something tells her that her husband feels the same way. 

“Good,” he murmurs, hand moving to the side of her, finger moving in absent, shapeless motions. When he says nothing, Solana finds herself giggling, small smile growing on her face. 

“You’re really not gonna move, are you?”

A second of delay. Like he’s really considering it. Like he’s actually going to move. “Naw.”

Rolling her eyes, Solana once again is reminded that as big and strong as her husband can be, he most definitely has his “big baby” moments.

And speaking of baby….

“So, I’ve been thinking—”

“Yes?”

“Until we go public with the pregnancy, or start telling people, if I start to get sick—”

At that, he lifts his head, gaze focused on her. “Sick?”

“Morning sickness,” she clarifies, keeping her hand in his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp. “I need to be able to tell you without….ya know….telling you.” 

He nods. “I agree.”

“So, I came up with something. At least…at least for tonight.” Because keeping this pregnancy a secret for at least the next 2 or 3 months will most likely continue to be a challenge that they have to navigate together. “If I sit on your lap—”

“I like it already.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his sly remark. “—and I squeeze your thigh—”

He makes a sound, dipping his mouth to kiss the top of her chest. “I really like that—”

“Then I’m starting to feel sick, and we need to leave.” She bites down on her bottom lip, suddenly unsure if what she’d come up with makes sense. “Is—is that okay?”

Roman chuckles. “Baby, you had me sold at sitting on my lap.” Of course, she did. “Are you sure you want to do this today?” 

This refers to two things. One being meeting and speaking with her biological father, and the second being her informing the rest of her maternal family of their kinship.

She's nervous as shit about both, but she also knows that she needs to do this.

For herself.

"I am," she answers, nodding to herself. "I have to."

He doesn't say anything, and she's grateful. Grateful that even if he doesn't outright agree, he's still being supportive, because that's just who he is to her. A support system.

And it's one of the man reasons she loves him.

When the silence continues, Solana decides to switch gears a little. Take advantage of this time they have together. “Well, since you still haven’t moved….” Her voice is initially teasing before slipping into something more serious. “I know you don’t want me training during this pregnancy, and I agree, but I don’t—I don’t want to stop learning altogether.”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“I want to learn how to shoot,” she cuts him off, unsurprised when he lifts his head to look at her. “I’ve been texting Afia, and she—”

“Afia?” Finally, Roman sits up and moves off her, but it’s not for the reasons she was hoping. “Since when do you talk to her?”

“Ro…..” She’s careful with her words, trying to be respectful of Roman’s boundaries but also recognizing her autonomy. “She’s your brother’s wife. My sister-in-law….” Solana’s hand drops to her stomach. “Their kids will be the girls' cousins. If you….if you aren’t ready to try to build a relationship with Matteo, that….that’s fine, but—I like Afia. She’s nice, and we get along well. And she’s been going to the shooting range, and I wanna go with her.”

Roman looks away, and Solana readies to say something else, but she stops when she sees that he’s clearly deep in thought. Most likely trying to combat logic with emotion. Trying to find a balance between what he wants and what she wants. 

“I don’t know, Sol. I don’t know her well enough to trust you with her.”

“That’s why you’ve gotta trust me,” is her soft response. Solana scoots over to him, holding onto his muscular arm. “Trust my judgment.” Eager to help him further consider her perspective, she points out, “not being able to train at all is going to be hard for me, Ro. I need something.”

It’s already been hard for her. Solana has gotten used to the routine and empowerment that comes with feeling herself grow stronger, psychologically and physically. And sure, once her pelvic rest restrictions are lifted, there’s a small chance she could continue to train, just in a different capacity. However, she doesn’t want to take any chances, and she knows Roman feels the same way.

Thus, this feels like an appropriate substitution. Because truth be told, being his wife, and not even knowing how to properly hold a gun, let alone use it, feels almost like a crime. Solana doesn't like weapons, especially guns, but it feels naive and almost irresponsible to not at least know how to use one.

Even if she prays that day never comes. 

“What if I teach you?” He suddenly suggests, eyes almost hopeful. “If you want to learn, it should be from the best.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that. She’s heard people talk about as such. Not only does Roman excel at hand to hand combat, which she’s seen for herself, his aim is impeccable.

He never misses.

“I’d be okay with that,” she agrees, voice trailing. “But, I want to learn from Afia as well.”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“Just like training with a woman is different from training with a man, I think…I think learning how to shoot might be the same.” Perhaps. She’s not entirely certain, but it leads into her next point. “And, I would just feel better learning from the both of you.” She kisses his shoulder, a small smile forming on her face. “But, if it helps, I really want to learn the spear from you. Only you.”

Solana is relieved to see his small grin as well. “You still on that spear obsession?”

She pouts, defending herself. “It’s not an obsession. It’s just….it seems effective. Like…like a finishing move, almost.” 

When coming from her husband, at least. She’s certain she could never inflict nearly as much damage as he could, largely because of the differing experience. Mostly because Roman is fucking huge. 

Almost 300lbs of pure muscle coming at someone with all that weight and speed?

Yeah….recipe for disaster. 

Or worse.

The thought pattern cause her to ask something she’d heard but hasn’t had a chance to inquire about. “Is it true you ruined someone’s career with a spear? Brock something?”

It’s not missed on her how he tenses a bit. “Yeah. Old college football rivalry that bled into the ring.” Roman scoffs, his hand moving to her knee, thumb caressing her skin. “I’ll admit. Fucker was the most physically challenging opponent I’ve ever faced.” Her eyes widen at that. Roman being challenged by anyone in that way seems and almost feels impossible. “We went at it a couple times, but the last one, I speared him, he went down badly on his right leg, the dominant one, and fucked it up real good. Ended any chance he had at going pro.”

Solana nods, taking it all in. “He wasn’t….he wasn’t in….ya know, the business?” For some reason, it feels almost strange asking about that. Asking about someone’s affiliation, membership, or lack thereof, in the crime world. Mostly because Solana was always left out of these conversations by Xavier, her preference at the time. 

Not necessarily, anymore. 

Roman scoffs, shaking his head. “He tried, but he was a dumbass farm boy who didn’t have the mental capability to make it or be successful." She winces, partially feeling bad. 

Curious, Solana inquires, “whatever happened to him?”

Roman shrugs, answering, “last I heard he bought a shit ton of land and does farming. I don’t know beyond that, and I don’t really fucking care to be honest with you.” Fair and expected for her husband. “What I care about is you and keeping you safe.”

His smooth redirection back to the conversation at hand is impressive, but as is the case with most things Roman Reigns related. “I will be safe, Roman. I just….training also helps me to feel safe, so I need something else to help me with that in the time being.” And when he looks at her, partially concerned, she already knows what he’s thinking. “You always make me feel safe, Ro. The safest I’ve ever felt in my life, but I—I also need to be able to provide that for me. Learning how to fight and defend myself has been so good for me. Please….please let me keep it going.”

Solana watches and waits quietly, allows and prays her words settle into her overprotective husband. She can understand why this could be hard for him, but she hopes his faith and trust in her overpowers any mistrust he might have in Afia.

“Alright,” he acquiesces. “If this is really what you want—”

“It it,” she speaks up, excitement growing at the possibility of his approval. “It really is.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “Then you can do it.” Solana giggles and holds his arm, hugging him. “But, I want Bautista with you at all times—”

“Of course.” An easy thing to agree to, Solana readying to ask Roman why and if Solo will ever return to being included in her personal security detail when he transitions the topic.

“Since we’re talking about shit…” Roman moves off the bed, Solana frowning and watching him walk over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, pulling out two letters that she focuses on as he climbs back on the bed. Handing them both to her, she reads her name on both letter as he shares, “these are for you….”

The confusion grows, weighing down her furrowed brows. “What—what are they?” Her question is premature as she notices the sender. 

Pacific Life

Her frown deepens. 

“What…..”

Roman nods gently. “Open em’.”

Solana still has so many questions, but they’re questions that clearly can only be answered by opening said letters. 

And, that’s exactly what she does.

Solana has always been a quick reader, so it doesn’t take long for her to come to some level of understanding. Pacific Life is clearly a life insurance company, and said letters both say the exact same thing, with the main difference being the names listed on each.

One is Xavier Miller, and the other is Wesley Miller.

And both include checks. 

“Oh my God…..” Solana’s hand slaps over her mouth, her eyes widening as she takes in the amount. The same on both checks.

$15,000,000.00

Wide eyes darting up to her husband, she drops her hand, mouth ajar. “I dont…..what?”

Roman moves his hand to her cheek, voice as gentle as his gaze. “I settled Xavier’s debts to keep them from coming after you—”

Solana’s stomach flips. “Roman—”

“And clearly, Xavier had Wes as his beneficiary for his life insurance policy and vice versa for Wesley. With them both dead and you last of kin, that makes you the beneficiary of both policies."

Nothing he’s saying is any different from what’s included in both letters outside of Roman paying off Xavier’s debt, something she both hates and loves. Hates her husband did anything for that man but recognizes and loves that he did it for her, did it to keep those debts from being sacked onto her.

But, regardless, there’s something so mind-blowing about opening two letters and finding oneself is now thirty million dollars richer.

“I don’t—I can’t—” Her words are choppy, similar to her many, fleeting thoughts. “I don’t want anything from them.”

Roman sighs, his response calm and supportive. “I figured you’d say that, and I respect it. I’ll respect whatever you decide to do.” It’s obvious there’s more, that he has additional thoughts, thoughts that he goes on to share. “But Sol, they put you through hell. You deserve this and so much more. It doesn’t change what happened, but maybe with this, you can do something good.”

Solana listens to him. Listens to the valid points he makes. This money most definitely doesn’t take back any of the horrors she experienced at the hands of those men, but the money….the money could be used for something, as Roman pointed out, good. 

A thought crosses her mind, as she suggests almost tentatively, “Like starting a college fund for the girls?”

Roman’s smile is small and slightly amused. “I don’t think we need to worry about paying for college, Sol.”

Fair. Sometimes, Solana forgets her husband is an actual billionaire.

A similar thought arises. "Or what about my schooling?"

"No." He shoots that down almost immediately. "I'm paying for that for you." Which makes sense, yes, but if she can afford it now with all this money, why not?

Roman shakes his head. “Just take some time and think about it,” his encouragement is gentle. “That and what you want to do with the house, too….”

Her eyebrows furrow. “The house?” Roman says nothing, but the way his expression softens almost sympathetically is all the answer she needs.

“Oh…..” 

The house she grew up in. The house that holds so many memories. Good. Bad. Some unidentifiable space in between. 

Yeah... she most definitely has to think about that.

“Okay.” A quiet, single word of agreement. Roman leans forward and kisses her temple, his hand settling over her stomach. 

His conciliatory touch is conjoined with a gentle, “let’s get ready.”

—----

The meeting with Darnell takes place at a restaurant. One Roman had cleared out just for this reason. A meeting she's instantly regretting the moment she walks in, her husband close by her side.

Her eyes land on the table where the other man sits, nervously bouncing his leg up and down. She takes a brief second to search his face, searching for any signs of similarities.

Nothing stands out to her.

And when they're close enough to him, Darnell also stands up and sets his focus on her, his eyes widening and instantly softening as he takes her in, studying her from top to bottom. Solana diverts her gaze and unconsciously leans into Roman’s solid, protective frame.

“Wow….” He finally speaks, volume barely above a whisper. “You….you look so much like her.”

Solana says nothing. What once would be considered a compliment is now a thing that only further confuses her muddled emotions. 

He moves to take a step forward, but Roman is already on it. “That’s fucking close enough.”

It’s appreciated, the parameters being set for her as Solana continues to go back and forth with herself regarding if this was a good idea or not. 

The answer changes from moment to moment. 

Disappointment flashes in his face, but he says nothing, simply nodding as he retakes his seat. 

It’s only then Solana speaks again, not to her biological father, but to her husband. Turning around, having to remind herself to be mindful of her interactions with him, she simply states, “I’m okay.”

Roman’s fierce gaze switches from Darnell to herself. An unspoken ‘are you sure?’. She nods, smile small but voice firm. “I’ll be okay.”

Bloodline security surrounds the place. Bautista is right outside the door. Darnell would have to be an idiot to try anything. 

Especially with Roman present. 

Roman’s disagreement is noticeable, Solana opting to place her hand on his chest, quietly repeating, “I’ll be okay.”

And it’s on this final reiteration that it locks and settles in for him. Roman gives her a small nod of acknowledgement, then turns his icy stare on Darnell, an unspoken threat and promise of violence should he try anything.

“I’ll be outside,” Roman informs. She offers him a final, small smile before he disappears, leaving her alone with Darnell. 

Solana takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair opposite him. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does he. Not for a good five minutes at least. 

“How?” It’s a practical whisper followed up with a firmer, “how did you find out?”

Solana looks away, partially unsure why eye contact is so difficult. “I found…I found a letter she wrote me explaining….explaining things.” She’s tempted to say everything but ultimately decides against it, as everything has not been explained, hence why she’s sitting across from the man in front of her.

He nods, eyes searching and studying her. “What—what exactly did she tell you?”

A lot. So much. More than one person should have to process and deal with at any given time. 

Still, Solana does her best to answer his questions, despite the fact that she only asked for this meeting so she could ask her questions. “How….how she met…..Xavier. How…how she met you…..the….the plan—”

“To leave, right?” All she can do is nod, finally looking over at him to see the devastation painted all over his face. “I never—I never found out…how….how he learned of the plan—”

One of her questions suddenly answered without her even asking. It’s not, however, the answer she was looking for. Granted, it’s obvious someone betrayed them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that much.

“I have to admit. This….this isn’t how I imagined this conversation going.” A quiet admission filled with undeniable sadness and regret.

Curious, Solana inquires, “how—how did you think it would go?”

He shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Silence

"I've waited....waited so long to meet you, to meet my daughter—"

"Please—please don't call me that." A whispered request, one that makes his countenance dim but something needs. It's bad enough she already feels unwell about this whole thing but him referring to her as that, even if true, it just....it feels too soon.

Continued silence until he speaks again, shattering it.

“Solana…..” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I—” He stops, pulling out his phone, clicking around, turning it so she can see. One look at the screen, and Solana knows right away what she’s looking at. 

Who she’s looking at.

The resemblance is strong and striking. The same smile. Same brown eyes they clearly inherited from her mother. Similar complexions.

This is her brother. 

“This….this is Shawn,” she lifts her gaze from the phone to Darnell who wears a small smile. “This is your brother.” Her eyes shut, as he continues to explain what she most definitely has not asked about. “He’s in his second year of residency. Working to become a pediatrician. He just got engaged—”

And because she can’t take it, can’t hold it in any longer, Solana asks. Has to ask. “Where were you?”

If she was looking at him, she’d see the quick and unmistakable way his smile shifts back into a frown. “What?”

From some place, a place unknown, Solana starts to find her voice. Starts to tap into the reasons and emotions that drove her to schedule this meeting in the first place. “You—you knew about me, right?”

There’s an undeniable sadness in his eyes. “From the moment your mother told me about the pregnancy.”

For some reason, that doesn’t help her to feel any better. To settle the influx of emotions rising within her. “And you—you knew that—that the plan failed, that….that she was killed.”

His eyes shut, and he looks away. A quiet, pained, “yes.”

“But that….that I survived, that….that I was still with him, in that—in that house.” Emotion betrays her, stirring and rising, resulting in choppy sentences that somehow manage to alert the man across from her just where she’s going with this. 

“Solana—”

“So where were you all these years?” A devastating question that needs, deserves, an answer. “Where have you been?” Betrayal paints her face as she issues her next icy question. “Or were you too busy being a dad to the child you wanted?”

There's a good, solid minute of absolute silence as Darnell clearly works to choose the right words.

“Solana, I always wanted you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in all these years that I haven’t thought about you, thought about trying to get you, but…..sweetheart.” Solana's nails scrape against the table. Something about that nickname doesn't settle right with her. “There was no way for me to try to take you from him that didn’t put you in danger. If he found out who I was, about me, he’d have no doubt either killed me or you. And then what?” A rhetorical question as he shakes his head. “I couldn’t save you without risking—”

“So you just left me there with that monster—”

“I didn’t have a choice, Solana—” His voice is desperate, eyes pleading. “I—I always hoped he would marry you off to someone, and then maybe I could reach out, and he did, but it was to that other monster Roman—”

And that is when Solana's anger reaches a dangerous level.

Her voice is unwavering and borderline threatening. “Don’t you dare talk about my husband.” She points to the door. “He is the first and only man in my life to not hurt me. To protect me. He protects me the way you should have—”

“Solana—”

“But, you didn’t. You left me to the real monster, and then you want to show up after all these years, showing me pictures of the sibling that I never knew I had, the sibling who I’m sure you gave a good life to, meanwhile, I spent over twenty years in hell—”

“Sol—”

“Do you know how bad it was for me?” Her throat is heavy and chest feels weighed down. “The things—the things they did to me—” Solana's voice breaks. “The things he let people do to me—”

“Sweetheart...." To be fair, Darnell looks sympathetic, but his explanations somehow contrasts that. Seems invalidating. Justifying. "I couldn’t risk losing you, too." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "If I tried to take you from him, he would have killed y—"

“Being dead would have been better than being in that house!” It’s a dark, heavy thing to say, but it’s how she feels. Or, maybe it’s how she feels in this moment. To be fair, she’s feeling a lot of things. A lot of confusing, conflicting, overwhelming things. It’s too much. 

This is all too much.

She thought she was ready. She wanted to be ready, but it’s evident by the way her face is warming up and her chest is tightening that she was wrong.

“I can’t do this,” she finally announces. Solana looks over at Darnell whose shoulders drop at her exclamation. “I—I can’t do this right now.”

Solana moves to stand up, but so does he. He also reaches across the table, his hand just centimeters away from touching her. “Solana, please—”

“I—I can try on a different date, but—but—this—it’s too—it’s too much.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. It’s only then she recognizes where this is headed. She’s on the path to a panic attack, and for so many reasons, primarily the two lives growing inside of her, she has to get the hell out of dodge. 

Darnell circles around the table and finally makes contact, grabbing her forearm. Solana is taken back by the fact that she doesn’t panic or jump at the action, that him touching her doesn’t elicit another layer of anxiety.

Still, she requests, “let me go.”

His voice is dripping with desperation. “Ten minutes. I’m just asking for ten—”

“—let me go.”

“—please. I’ve waited for so long—”

“Let me go.”

“—if you—”

“Roman!” 

It practically defies logic and the science of how time works, because one minute she’s shouting for her husband, a natural thing that comes to her in the space of this fear, and the next, he’s back in the room, roughly barking at her father to get away from her. Solana reaches for Roman, grabbing his arm, redirecting his attention back to her instead of Darnell who’d stepped back, hands up in a defensive manner. 

“I just wanna leave,” she whispers, Roman moving his hands to her face, clearly assessing for any sign of injury. “P–please.”

Roman nods, ushering her out of the restaurant, but not before he issues a cold, steel warning to Darnell. 

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

Solana doesn’t know if she agrees with that. If she wants, overall, for Darnell to leave her alone. There’s still so much for them to discuss, but as of right now, mentally, it’s not something she’s ready for. Not something she can handle. So, for now, distance is the best thing.

Only time will tell if that changes. 

—-------

Solana is dangerously close to calling off the whole thing. From backing away from the plan to inform the rest of Bayley/her family of the kinship. The meeting with Darnell messing with her so much that Roman has to stay with her for the rest of the afternoon given her spiked anxiety. He’d asked if she needed him to call Gayle for an appointment, but she turned it down, leaning on her coping skills learned in therapy as well as his support.

She’s not entirely sure what she expected to hear or how the meeting would go, but her reaction and how deeply it impacted her definitely took her by surprise. And, if she’s being completely honest with herself, anxiety isn’t the only emotion that came out of that meeting.

Jealousy.

Jealousy is something she also left with, jealousy that a sibling, her twin, of all people got to live a normal life. Probably got to do all of the normal things that kids should be able to do. Darnell probably taught him how to ride a bike.

Xavier once pitched hers into the street and rolled it over in front of her because she didn’t clean the house “good enough.”

He probably got to have playdates with friends.

Solana went to maybe one or two, each one ending with Xaxier screaming at and beating her mom for allowing her to do so.

He probably went to homecoming and prom.

Solana spent both of those in the ER from injuries sustained from Xavier and Wes’s beatings.

He’s a doctor.

Solana is just going for her bachelors at 29.

There’s just so much unfairness. Her twin lived the best life while she was stuck in the depths of hell.

And no, it’s not his fault, because he was a child just like her. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s jealous that this sibling received the life she deserved and angry at her father for not saving her and giving her that same kind of life. 

“Hey.” Bayley’s kind voice and soft voice pull Solana from her inordinate thoughts. “You still thinking about that meeting?”

Solana nods. Hard not to. “It just….it wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”

Bayley presses her lips together before offering. “I get that, and I hate that for you, too, but just because that didn’t go well, doesn’t mean that this won’t.” She places down the brush she was using to set Solana’s face with powder. “Solana…” Bayley joins their hands, eye contact unwavering. “You are family. They’re not going to be upset or deny you or turn you away. They’ll have questions, maybe, sure. But, it’s not going to be this massive, hurtful thing. If I had any feeling it would be anything but accepting, I would be trying my damn hardest to talk you out of this. But, I don’t, so I’m not.” Bayley lifts one hand to touch up an unruly strand that’s shifted from the bangs she cut for her cousin not even an hour earlier. "Everything's going to be okay.”

The words are helpful. Immensely. And so greatly appreciated. More than Bayley could ever know. Especially following the day Solana has had.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Solana also manages a smile. “It—it means a lot to me.”

Bayley makes a sound. “Don’t mention it, prima.” Bayley grabs the brush once more, dusting it over Solana’s nose before assessing her work. “I must say, while the canvas is breathtaking, I do some damn good work.” She steps to the side allowing Solana a final view of the finished product. “What do you think?”

Solana thinks and feels a lot of things looking at her reflection.

Different.

It looks and feels like a different person. The bangs framing her forehead, brushing the top of her eyebrows and somehow highlighting the beautiful gold eye look Bayley did for her. Bayley’s magic continues and spreads from the highlight atop her cheek, the red lipstick on her full lips, even to the red, floral dress Solana is wearing. Initially something she thought a bit too revealing but something her cousin talked her into.

The emotion is undeniable as she finds herself almost unable to look away from herself. “I love it.” She turns to Bayley, standing up from the chair and pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll invoice that rich ass husband of yours.” Bayley’s comments makes Solana laugh and helps her to push back the tears. She can’t ruin this stunning face. “Speaking of….”

The two break apart, and Solana sets her gaze on her husband who’s just walked in. 

Naturally, she studies the way his eyes widen slightly when he sees her. “Damn…”

Giggling, Solana walks over to him and moves her hands to his chest, asking almost nervously, “do you like it?”

She hadn’t told him about the plan to modify her dyed hair yet again by cutting bangs, wanting to surprise him. He just thought she was going to Bayley’s salon for the two to get ready together. And while that definitely happened, this happened as well.

“I love it,” he finally answers, his eyes sweeping her over. “You look beautiful, Sol.” It doesn’t matter how many times he says it, it never gets old. Never fails to make her heart swell and stomach flutter. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and turns her head when he goes to kiss her, reminding with a giggle, “don’t mess up my makeup!” 

He makes a sound and kisses her neck, murmuring, “I’d mess up a hell of a lot more if I could.” His big hand snakes down to grab her ass, prompting her to lightly push on his chest. 

“Behave,” she scolds, unable to deny there’s a part of her that feels the same. Pelvic rest is absolutely necessary, at least for another week or two, but the lack of that type of intimacy between them, the inability to have it has been….something, to say the least. 

Needing a distraction, she turns to Bayley while speaking to Roman. “She did an amazing job, didn’t she?”

However, it’s only then Solana sees the way Bayley rolls her eyes, not at her statement, but at Roman who is also now looking with utter boredom. 

Shoulders dropping, Solana realizes it’s time to address this issue. 

“Guys.” She pulls away from Roman, crossing her arms over her body. “This has to stop.” She looks between them. “I love you both, and I know—I know what happened was hard, and I’ll never stop being sorry for putting you two in that position, but—” She looks at Roman, “Bayley is my cousin,” she then switches her gaze to Bayley, “Roman is my husband.” She shakes her head, asserting, “neither of those facts are going to change. Ever. So, I want, I need you two to drop this. I need us all to be family.” Realizing that may be too much, at least for now, she compromises, “at least be cordial.” An assessing gaze between the two of them reveals some crumbling of steel resolve, prompting her to pull out that card. “For me?”

That does it, both Bayley and Roman looking away, revealing her final play’s success. “Fine.” Bayley is the first to speak. “I’ll try to be nicer to him.”

Roman looks like he’s almost in physical pain as he forces out a steel, “same.” 

Bayley scoffs. “Like you know how to be nice to anyone other than Sol—”

“Don’t fucking push it—”

“Guys,” Solana cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please.”

Muttered, reluctant ‘sorry' from both of them as she shakes her head. There’s still a ways to go, but it’s a start. 

One issue tackled. Sort of.

Another major one left to go.

—------

Sitting in front of them shouldn’t be so intimidating. Shouldn’t have her tapping her foot on the floor, her attention briefly diverting to thoughts of Roman. To wondering if she should have had him stay instead of standing outside. Solana does her best to remind herself of why she initially told him that. She can do this and is capable, and she doesn’t need her husband right beside her to feel his support.

Especially when she’s got Bayley right next her.

“Thank you for—for meeting with me.” The second meeting of the day, this one, hopefully, going much better than the one from earlier. “I—I don’t know how much Bayley told you.”

Juanita offers a small smile. “Just that you needed to speak with us about something….in private.” She gestures around the vacant restaurant, the only other bodies present are the ones back in the kitchen, preparing for the night’s event.

Santos says nothing, his gaze watchful and studying. Bayley’s recommendation for him to be included and invited to this “reveal” was something she was unsure about, Roman definitely against, but something she eventually agreed to given Bayley’s valid points. He’s technically Solana’s cousin too, Melina’s partner and the father of their child, not to mention the tension that exists between him and Roman. With all the connections they share, prior to even officially meeting, it makes sense to start easing into that transition now. 

And truth be told, from the moment Santos walked into the restaurant and shook her hand and just from the little she’s seen, Solana can see why he and Roman don’t get along. It’s probably the same reason Roman is indifferent, borderline hostile to his brother. 

They’re too much alike. 

Santos exudes a strong, commanding, almost mysterious presence similar to her husband. But, there’s that almost charismatic element to him that reminds her of Matteo. 

She can only hope the three of them being under the same roof tonight won’t bring about anything bad. 

Returning to the conversation at hand, at Juanita’s statement, Solana nods and nervously clears her throat. “I’m sorry if it was any inconvenience—”

“Not at all,” Bernardo dismisses with a wave of his hand. “We are curious what this is about though.”

A fair statement. One Solana knows only she can handle.

She takes a deep breath. “I—I love to write. I—I always have. It’s—it’s something I inherited from my mother. We used to—we used to write to each other all the time.” Solana prepares to take another deep breath when Bayley places a comforting hand on her knee. Solana offers a small, appreciative smile. 

It’s the subtle, non-verbal reminder she needs. 

She nods to herself. “It’s—it’s a long story, but I was….I was sorting through her journals and putting them away in my library at my home, and I—I came across a letter she wrote me before—” Emotion catches her, Solana’s voice wavering slightly. “Before she was killed.”

Her fingers taps against the exposed skin on her thigh, as if going to reach for the letter. A letter she opted to not share in its entirety. Just the portions that confirm her mother’s true identity. 

Solana then moves to grab the papers out of her purse, handing them over. In a low voice, she directs, “you—you can read for yourselves.” 

All three wear confused expressions, but Bernardo is the one to accept the two pages, Santos and Juanita nearing closer to also gain visual access. 

Meanwhile, Solana goes to pick at the material of her dress when Bayley shifts her hand, placing it over hers. Another nod of support, her warm brown eyes converting every bit of, “it’s going to be okay.”

Solana squeezes her hand, telling herself the same thing. 

It’s going to be okay. 

A minute or two passes before the first sound of response. 

“Mio Dios…..” It’s Bernardo, and he has a closed fist covering his mouth as his wide, emotional eyes lift to Solana. “You’re Alma’s daughter?”

Juanita gasps, eyes watering. “She had a child?”

Santos looks between her and the letter, as if trying to make the connection. “How? Is it—is it just you? Are there any other children she had?”

It’s difficult to breathe, let alone respond, but Solana finds it in her to do so. “I—I apparently have a twin brother—” More gasps of shock, as she explains, “I don’t—I didn’t know until the letter. There’s a lot more in there, and it’s all so confusing, and I know it’s a lot just what you read, so if you need time—”

“No.” Again, Bernardo is the one to speak, his tone firmer. “For years, we’ve wondered what happened to my niece. Ricardo—he died of a broken heart after losing your mother, he died not knowing what happened to his only daughter. We’ve all lived with that grief, and now here you are, have been here all this time….” He stops, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry we didn’t—we couldn’t do anything to help her. To help you.”

It’s an unexpected ending that has her eyes watering. Solana replies with just as much emotion. “You—you didn’t know.”

“But, we know now,” Juanita says, wiping at her eyes. “And now that we have you, that we know who you really are….” She stops, laughing a little, “well, I can’t even call you newfound family, cause you’ve already become that for us.” Solana sniffles, not even realizing she herself has started crying. Juanita's eyes widen as she looks over at her husband. “Paloma—”

He closes his eyes, going to speak again. “Your grandfather, my brother, is no longer with us, but his widow is. Paloma—”

“I know,” Solana interrupts in a quiet voice, unsurprised at their shocked expressions. “My–my husband took me to Isla Mujeres for my birthday a couple months ago, and I—I actually met her.” Her voice breaks again, Solana blotting at her eyes as Bayley hugs her from the side. “I—I haven’t told her because—because I’m scared, and I—I didn’t know if you guys would accept me or believe me.”

“Accept you?” Bernardo echoes. Solana watches as he stands up from his chair and walks over, extending a hand. Unconsciously, she stands up, Bayley releasing her, as Solana accepts it. He gives a small squeeze. “Solana, you are family. My great niece. Mi familia.” 

What happens next is unexpected, and months prior, could have easily sent Solana spiraling and triggered the absolute hell out of her.

Bernardo pulls her into a hug, holds her, his hand cradling the back of her head. And Solana doesn’t panic, doesn’t freeze, doesn’t feel triggered. She feels safe. The comforting, almost parental, fatherly embrace is all so unfamiliar but nice.

It’s such an interesting dichotomy. With Darnell, Solana found explanations. With Bernardo and company, she’s finding empathy. Sympathy. And it’s not really until this moment that she’s realizing maybe she wasn’t looking for answers from her biological father as much as she was looking for comfort. For validation. 

For this.

Pulling away, she wipes at her eyes, laughing when Juanita pulls her into a hug that’s even tighter. 

Motherly.

Releasing her, Juanita blots at Solana’s eyes as Santos crosses his arms, taking in the sight.

“So, the great Solana Reigns all my family kept raving about is actually also family,” he says with a small chuckle. Solana turns to him, lips pressed together, listening and watching closely. “Well, welcome to the Escobar family.” His eyes narrow just a bit. “You know what this also means, right?”

“No.” Solana gasps, turning around to see her husband whose intense gaze is on Santos, Bayley standing not too far behind him with her arms crossed. She'd clearly went to get him, to invite him back inside. “Tell me.”

Naturally, Solana walks over to Roman, holding onto his arm, his gaze never once leaving Santos. 

Bayley's cousin, err, Solana’s cousin, however, doesn’t even bother to look Roman’s way. “You’re an Escobar. That means you're under the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma. The Cartel as well.”

Solana frowns. She’s heard through Bayley and even brief mentions from Jimmy and Jey about the Legado Del Fantasma, but the Cartel? That’s…..news to her, to say the least. But juxtaposed to her confusion is Roman’s anger. 

Solana has to subtly tighten her grip on his arm as he moves forward, growling, “Solana is Bloodline.”

“She’s Bloodline by marriage,” Santos corrects, swiftly. “She’s Del Fantasma by blood.” 

Bayley steps forward, breaking her silence and also the pending standoff. “So basically, Solana has protection on both sides. Through family and marriage." 

It’s such a strange thing. To go from being unprotected and subjected to all kinds of horrors for years into this space where the protection is abundant. Being told she is under the protection of two of the most feared crime syndicates in this hemisphere, maybe the world, is….something, to say the least. 

“She doesn’t need your protection,” Roman cuts in, his voice steel, Solana wishing she could do more to comfort and calm him right now. “I don’t need anyone’s help to keep my wife safe.” 

Thankfully, the role of peacemaker is taken up by her tía.

Juanita speaks up. “Let us not do this right now. This is a happy occasion. I won’t have it ruined by ego and pride.” She looks between Roman and Santos. “We will have a nice, celebratory night.”

It’s the ‘celebratory’ that reminds Solana of her stipulation, if you will. “I—I’d prefer this…this stay between us.” She motions around the room, adding, “until I—I can tell Paloma.”

Bernardo nods, agreeing. “It shall remain between us, sobrina nieta.”

The term. Great niece. It warms Solana’s soul, returns the smile on her face.

Familia. 

Family.

—--------

Roman feels out of place.

Truth be told, he’s always felt a bit out of place. But, especially in this setting, because as guests arrive and as Solana socializes and speaks with what she now knows to be her family, he just sits at the table, watching and surveying. A normal thing for him, especially considering none of these people are his friends and family. 

Except then Jimmy and Naomi arrive, Naomi invited by Bayley and Jimmy naturally tagging along. And that initial exchange is awkward, but Jimmy reminds Roman that while he has his moments, he knows when to leave shit at the door.

“I know a lot is going on, but tonight ain’t about that.” Was Jimmy’s “surrender” statement of the evening. 

Before he went to go see what food he was ordering. 

Some things never change.

Regardless, Roman feels a bit better seeing Dwayne, is slightly surprised to see Ava, who’d he previously spoken to and settled his issues with regarding her interference. But, it’s when Matteo arrives with his wife and children that it really hits Roman.

Two boys and a little girl. His biological niece and nephews. And Roman hasn’t a single fucking clue how to feel about that, doesn’t know what to feel seeing the way Matteo is attentive to both his wife and kids while still maintaining that dangerous aura about him.

He smiles and even laughs with his little girl, slaps his wife’s ass, and high fives his sons all while never coming across as weak.

He balances it all so well from the outside looking in, something Roman feels at a complete loss to.

Especially as he watches his wife. Solana, kind and loving, is all smiles and laugh. Matteo’s children seem to naturally gravitate to her, same with the other children in attendance. Like Melina and Santos son. Another business man who manages to tend to his family while maintaining his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Roman can’t even think about fatherhood without feeling all fucking weird.

It’s miserable.

And, it’s not even just them, even fucking Jimmy is going around the restaurant calling people “cousin this” and “tia that.” People he met less than an hour ago. Is singing some Selena song on karaoke with Bayely and Solana even though he doesn't know a lick of Spanish and sounds like Lucille fucking Ball.

Still, he just blends. 

They all do.

Jimmy.

Matteo.

Dwayne and Ava even, striking up conversations with people.

And Roman is just…..there.

And that’s when the overthinking hits him. Is this how it’s going to be for him as a father? This emotionally unavailable person who can’t even connect with people on a basic level. Who has to rely and depend on his wife to fulfill his kids; emotional needs, cause Lord knows he can’t.

Solana even tries to get him to dance with her, comes to sit on his lap and talk with him for a few minutes. And he declines in the subtle way he must use to avoid giving off any indication of what she means to him. And she understands, he knows she does, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

Especially when he sees Matteo dancing with his wife, sees Solana playfully interacting and dancing with his biological niece. People she just fucking met and is already almost bonded with. 

Something Roman is starting to think he can never have or achieve.

Even with his own children. 

Stepping away is a bit of necessity. He needs to not be surrounded by it all, by the taunts and reminders. 

Reminders of what he can never have. 

Roman stands outside, in the back patio portion of the restaurant, leaning against the brick wall, thoughts all over the damn place. 

“I know your ass is getting old, and I’m just over the hill, but even I know all the fun is happening inside.”

Dwayne’s voice, playful and teasing, pulls Roman from his thoughts as he looks over at his cousin who sports a beer in one hand. 

Roman chuckles, looking off over the terrace. “You know this isn’t my setting.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Dwayne assesses, knowingly. He steps closer, asking, “why?”

An easy answer. “You really think I was about to let her be here by herself? Around Escobar?” 

That’s another thing sitting on and weighing on him. He’s happy Solana has discovered her family. She deserves that. He’s just unsure how he feels about Solana suddenly belonging to and, rightfully, having protection from an organization he can’t control.

He’d heard whispers that Legado Del Fantasma was rooted in the Cartel, that there were connections there, some even being through Santos father. But, the Cartel has always been notorious about keeping identities for certain factions and members a secret. Helps them keep an advantage. 

Similar to the Bloodline. 

But, hearing it confirmed is something different, and Roman is now wishing he’d have not pushed off those meetings with Cartel representatives to see about forming an alliance or something of the sort.

It sure as hell would be helpful right about now. 

Dwayne makes a face. “According to Jimmy, that’s her family though.”

At that, Roman’s gaze hardens. “What?” 

Dwayne chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “Don’t worry. He told me not to tell anyone.”

“I’m trying to figure out how the fuck he kn—” Roman stops himself, pinching his nose. It’s always something. “Yes, turns out Solana and Bayley are—”

“Cousins, right?”

Ava’s voice cuts in at the same moment Roman’s blood pressure skyrockets. 

“How the fuck do you know?” He asks, already knowing the damn answer. 

Ava shrugs, also with a beer in hand. “Jimmy.” Roman looks away, absolutely needing to count to ten to keep from killing his damn cousin. “But, don’t worry, he told me—”

“Not to tell anyone. Yeah, I know.” Roman runs his hand over his face, needing to count to ten, something Lita had brought up to help when his anger starts to rise. It sounded stupid as hell at the time but may be necessary at this moment.

 This is why he fucking hates people. 

Ava rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m only out here cause Solana asked me to check on you.”

Dwayne makes a sound. “She asked me, too.”

Hearing that somehow calms Roman a bit, reminds him of why he needs to get his shit together. For Solana. Tonight is supposed to be about and for her. She doesn’t need to be worrying about him, especially in her condition. 

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Ava and Dwayne say in sync. Roman rolls his eyes. The two of them at one time is a kind of stressor he doesn’t need right now. He appreciates them both, but he’ll always appreciate solitude more. 

Especially when he needs to think.

Especially….especially when he doesn't have Fetu to talk to any more. 

“Just thinking about shit,” is the answer Roman settles on. It’s not very telling. At all. But, it’s an answer nonetheless. 

“Well, can’t say we didn’t try.” Ava shrugs, sipping more of her beer as she lowers her voice. “Hey, what’s the update on the…..ya know?”

No. Roman doesn’t know, and he asks as such. “What?”

Ava sucks her teeth and punches him on the arm. “Don’t be a dumbass. You know what I’m talking about.” His face must indicate his continued confusion as she murmurs something in Samoan. “For Solana?”

At the same time, both Dwayne and Roman are clued in.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Dwayne says first, rolling his shoulders. “You still gotta let me know the dress code.”

“Anything but white. Duh.” Ava suddenly second guesses herself, looking over at Roman for approval. “Right?”

Roman’s answer is multifaceted. “I don’t know.” And before his annoying ass cousins can get on his ass, he clarifies. “I don’t—I don’t know if I’m still doing it.”

Both wear shocked expressions, but Dwayne is the first to comment. “The fuck you mean you’re not doing it? You have to, brother.”

Ava’s expression softens. “Roman, you know….you know it’s what Fetu would want.”

Roman looks away, knowing. Knowing that Ava is right. Fetu was so excited to attend, to be a part of it, and while her absence will kill him, he also knows his aunt would probably take a break from terrorizing people in the afterlife to haunt him if he doesn't go through with it. 

“I will. I just….I think I have to change the timeline.” 

“Change the timeline?” She shakes her head, protesting. “No. Roman, the dates you chose are literally perfect. What’s better than Christmas and Valentine's Day?”

Dwayne gestures to Ava with his thumb. “She’s right. Women love that romantic shit.”

Roman closes his eyes, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he mulls over what he’s about to say, if he should. He knows what Solana said, but something tells him she wouldn’t care in this moment. That she’d be okay with it.

Which is why he goes on and says it. 

“Solana’s pregnant.” 

A loud gasp from Ava and dropped mouth from Dwayne. “Oh my God, seriously?” Ava asks in a voice of almost awe. “Holy shit, Roman, congratulations.”

A strange sense of pride fills him at the response, a stark contrast to the confused, conflicting feelings he has towards everything else regarding this pregnancy. 

“It’s about goddamn time,” Dwayne claps him on the shoulder, pointing out, “was starting to worry you were going to fuck up our family’s reputation for being fertile as fuck.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “This coming from the man who swore off kids.”

Dwayne shrugs. “Ehh. My offspring are better served swallowed.”

Roman cracks a small smile as Ava looks utterly disgusted.

“I fucking hate men,” she spits, glare switching to something inquisitive. “How far along is she?”

“Two months,” Roman answers. Solana is closer to three months than anything, but that specific of an answer seems unnecessary. “But, I don’t—I don’t know if she’ll want to do that while pregnant.”

Ava seems to be doing the math Roman himself did when coming to his decision. “I mean, if she’s two months now, she’ll be due in May, and if you do it in February, that’ll put her at like, what, six months?” Ava shrugs. “She’ll definitely be showing, but—”

“It’s—” Roman cuts in, unsure why his voice is low, weighed down with something indistinguishable. “Twins. She’s—she’s having twins.”

Ava’s eyes double in size. “Oh shit, okay.”

Dwayne makes a low whistle sound. “Two at the same fucking time? Your ass is about to be knee deep in baby shit and piss.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ava dismisses, voice switching to something more serious again. “I can get why you’re thinking of putting it off, but honestly….I think you should still stick with the original plan and timeline. Pregnant or not, Solana is gonna love it, regardless.”

He says nothing, trying to push away the negative, doubtful thoughts. When the idea first came to him, while he was trying to figure out what to do for her birthday, he was certain of it. Certain that it would definitely be something she’d appreciate. And as he worked out the specifics, bouncing ideas off Fetu, even Ava, navigating the logistics with Dwayne, it all seemed to be coming together almost perfectly.

And then things started to fall apart and unravel, and while they’ve been working hard to put everything back together. There’s still work to be done, and progress to be made. 

A pregnancy.

That’s really the biggest thing that’s had Roman second-guessing himself. If Solana would still be as happy and appreciative if he were to do this while she’s with child, and there’s always going to be some doubt, but Ava’s words help to settle some of the indecision. 

A lot of it, actually.

“I’ll think about it,” is the answer he settles on. “You already know this shit—”

“Stays between us,” Dwayne finishes. “Well aware.” There’s a gleam in his eyes, something similar to concern. “Are you sure you’re al—”

“Hey.”

The cousins are interrupted by another voice, another person. Matteo. 

And he looks irritated.

“You might want to get in here.”

There’s something about Matteo’s expression and the almost concern in his voice that makes Roman the first to head that way, his cousins shortly behind him. 

His stride is purposeful, the Tribal Chief heading back into the restaurant where he immediately sees and knows why Matteo called for his attention.

“Son of a bitch…..”

Roman is focused solely on his wife, on the way she's almost sandwiched between Naomi, Afia, Bayley, and now Ava, all of the women watching closely as Jimmy stands in front of Jey, arms up as if trying to block him from entering farther into the restaurant. 

And it’s as Roman gets closer, he can see why Jimmy is trying to restrict his twin. 

The smell of liquor radiates off Jey’s frame. Once in the vicinity, Roman doesn’t have time to acknowledge his wife who he can feel looking at him. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Jey?” Roman’s question is calmly and coldly delivered, his fist at his side clenching and unclenching because what the fuck?

Jey’s glazed eyes fall on him as he makes a sound. “Ah,h shit, there he is, Mr. Tribal Chief himself.”

Jimmy glances at Roman. “I got this, Roman.”

“Obviously, you don’t,” Roman snaps, refocusing on Jey. “You need to leave.”

Now. Immediately. He shouldn’t even be there in the first damn place.

Jey makes a sound and snatches his arm away from Jimmy. “Man, I ain’t going nowhere. This some b–bullshit. Ya’ll tryna—tryna ice me out and shit!”

“Jey.” Roman turns to see Solana has stepped forward, Afia and Bayley both watching Roman's drunk ass cousin the whole time, as if wanting to see if he’s going to do anything. Protectively, almost. Naomi, however, just looks so frustrated with it all. Understandably so. “That’s not—”

“Oh look!” Jey’s volume increases. “It’s—it’s the queen herself! The one who—who started all this shit!” He smiles and laughs, Roman rolling his neck, sensing Matteo and Dwayne who now stand closely behind him. Also protectively. “Shit, Soso, I used to think—to think me and you was—was cool.”

“That’s enough, man,” Jimmy’s stern voice is conjoined with him once again trying to guide his brother out the restaurant. “This ain’t the time or place.”

“It certainly isn’t.” Santos joins in, Roman not missing the men that move behind him, clearly ready and waiting. He looks over at Roman, nodding, “get him out of here, or we will.”

It’s a threat. Obviously. Clearly. And Roman can’t even be upset with it. Jey coming on neutral territory trying to start some shit is unacceptable. 

Embarrassing

“I ain’t going n–nowhere—”

“The hell you aren’t.” Roman turns to see Dwayne walking past him, bypassing Jimmy as he aggressively grabs Jey by the collar of his shirt. “You’re fucking embarrassing yourself, Jey.”

Jey’s inebriation is even more evident as he goes to take a poorly aimed swing at Dwayne who easily dodges as such, instead taking the opportunity to spin Jey around and start pushing him out. “Let’s go,” he barks, Jimmy moving behind him, trying to talk some sense into his hotheaded twin.

“Man! Fuck ya’ll! I got something for all ya’ll asses!”

It’s that last sentence that makes Roman’s jaw clench. Whatever leash Jey had on his temper all these years has clearly been dropped. Roman hasn’t seen his cousin this reckless since they were in their twenties. 

But, as soon as Santos steps forward, inches away from Roman, Matteo moving to stand directly beside his brother, Roman already knows what’s about to be said. “Anything fucking happens on this territory—”

“I’ll handle it,” Roman asserts. He’s pissed, livid, and not even at the man before him. Santos is doing what anyone in that position would do. Reminding a potential enemy what potential consequences await should anyone be stupid enough to try anything.

Someone stupid like Jey.

Santos simply nods, saying something in Spanish causing his men to disperse. 

“Jey’s becoming a problem.” Matteo speaks in Italian, clearly wanting the umbrella of privacy. Roman turns to look at him. “This can’t continue.”

Roman hates being told what he already knows, but there’s something in this that makes him simply agree. “I know.”

“Roman.” He looks down to see Solana now on the other side of him, realizes she’s holding onto his arm, looking up with eyes that give away what she wants before even saying anything. “Let’s go. home”

And just like that, the anger slips into guilt. Guilt that what was supposed to be a nice night for her has turned into this shitshow. Looking around, he sees the crowd has dispersed, Naomi nowhere to be seen as Bayley and Afia talk amongst themselves. The band resumes the music, and it appears as if they’re trying to resume like nothing happened. But, something did happen, and it’s ruined whatever enjoyment Solana was having.

Fuck.

“Solana—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, voice low and almost subtle. God, he fucking hates this. “Let’s—let’s just go….please.”

It’s that last word that pulls him over. “Alright.”

She gives a small nod of appreciation and turns to walk away, clearly to tell everyone goodbye, starting with Bayley and Afia and the latter’s kids who have come hovering near their mother.

“So….” Matteo speaks again, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you going to handle this?”

Roman just looks at him and says nothing. 

He says nothing because he has no idea. 

He has no idea how he’s going to handle this. 

—----------

The drive home is mostly silent, not much conversation transpiring between husband and wife. Once in the safety of their humble abode, Solana works to get Dulce settled as Roman heads straight to the shower, eventually finding himself sitting outside, wanting, almost needing the distraction of the beautiful night sky.

But, it’s after Solana has also showered, she finds and joins him on the balcony of their master bedroom. Wordlessly, she climbs onto his lap, hands to his face, her eyes and voice pleading. “Talk to me.”

Roman closes his eyes, saying nothing, prompting her to clarify, “and don’t try to say it was the Jey situation. You….you were off before that even happened.”

“It didn’t help,” he mutters. An honest thing. Roman needs to figure something out, because Jey’s behavior tonight was unacceptable. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing to him, but more importantly, embarrassing to the Bloodline.

And as the Tribal Chief, Roman can’t have that. Thus, he needs to find a way to resolve this shitshow. And fast. 

He opens his eyes, looking directly at her. “Solana—”

“Roman.” Her voice is firmer, her gaze never leaving him. “The truth.”

It’s difficult to lie to her. Always has been. It was just what he felt he needed to do at certain points, but in this moment, in a stark contrast to prior ones, he almost doesn’t want to. He wants to get this off his chest. 

So, he does.

With a heavy sigh, Roman does his best to explain all of the many things he’s been feeling the past few weeks. “Solana, I don’t—I don’t know how to do it.”

She frowns, her thumb brushing over the apple of his bearded cheek. “Do what, baby?”

His jaw tightens. “Be a father.”

Roman sees it. Sees the way her shoulders drop, sees the sadness in her eyes. “Ro….”

“I watched you tonight. I watched how you…..you connected with everyone. Connected with the kids. It’s—natural for you.” Roman closes his eyes, the words continuing to roll out almost autonomously from this place of rare vulnerability. “You’re a good person, Solana. You—you have a heart. A big heart. You were made to be a parent. A mother. I don’t—I don’t think I was made to be—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, her voice a perfect mixture of emotion and conviction. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that, Ro.” Her eyes are watering as she gives him an emotional smile. “Roman, you have a heart, too. A big heart. You just….you’re not allowed to show it as much as I do, not in public at least, because of who you are. But, I see it all the time, I feel it all the time when we’re together.” She shakes her head, moving her hand to push back some of his hair. “I always feel so loved with and by you, and that’s exactly what our girls are going to feel.”

He swallows. “Solana—”

“What kind of father are you in your dreams?”

A valid, fair question that takes him back. Roman starts to protest, starts to push back on her, but there’s a fiery determination in her gaze that tells him doing so won’t do anything but make her push back on him even more.

He thinks about it, finally answering, almost reluctantly. “Fine.”

“Bullshit.” Another taken back expression. It feels almost wrong to hear his sweet, innocent wife curse, but she does so without hesitation. “They adore you, don’t they?” He says nothing, sensing she’s not done. “Always want to be around you, and Lina wants to be just like you, huh?”

Right away, he’s hit with flashes of scenes from the collections of dreams he’s had. Smiles. Laughter. Love. All things from two small children who are the perfect combination of himself and Solana. 

Twin girls. 

Their girls.

Catalina and Cataleya Reigns. 

But as quickly as that arrives, reality sets in.

Despite the turmoil within, his hand on the small of her back continues to rub soothing circles that do more for him than her. “Solana, those are just—they’re just dreams.”

“No.” She shakes her head, voice softening to another level. “They’re visions. Visions of our future. Of the lives we’re going to have. Of the family we’re going to have. Of the father you’re going to be.”

“I should feel something though, Solana,” he stresses. “You’re pregnant, and I don’t….I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m not upset, but I’m not….I don’t feel what you do.”

It’s a sad, almost scary, embarrassing thing to admit. To tell his wife that he doesn’t know how to feel about a pregnancy she’s ecstatic about. But, he does. Because he owes her that much.

Owes her honestly.

“That’s okay, Roman.” The surprises continue, because her response, the tone of almost sympathy, are most certainly not what he was expecting. “I know feelings are hard for you, and I know this is a new experience for you. That’s….that’s okay. What’s not okay is you thinking or even believing you can’t do this, because you can. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re going to do it together.”

Roman inhales deeply, trying his best to let her words penetrate his strong exterior. 

And then she continues to show her sainthood, continues to show just how she’s far too good for him. “Roman….” Her eyes shift downward, and so do his. Only then does he realize while one hand is on her back, the other is planted on her stomach. Her hand over his. “I’m—I’m carrying them, so I think….I think that makes that bond stronger, easier even.” Roman doesn’t say anything, but it’s impossible for him to not think about how that’s exactly what Lita had said to him.

“What if I can’t connect with them?” A quiet, almost hushed escapee from that deeply embedded box of fears he keeps tucked away. It consists of only a few things, very few, and that most definitely happens to be one of them. “If I can’t—bond with them like you?”

“You won’t bond and connect with them like I do, because I’m their mother. That relationship between mother and daughters is always going to be different from that of father and daughters. There’s something….something special about that. Something you’ll have with them that I can never have because it’s just different, but I promise you, Roman. It’ll be there, baby.” Solana shifts her body on his lap, leaning into her chest, hugging him, laying her head in the crook of his neck. Naturally, Roman holds her, kissing her temple, thankful for her words, for her support, for her belief in him, for her.

“And maybe…maybe it won’t be now.” She moves her hand up and down his chest, a comforting gesture. “Maybe it won’t really hit for you during the pregnancy, and that’s okay, because I know, the minute you hold them for the first time, it’ll click. You’ll feel it then. Feel that love.”

Love.

Once something that was unfamiliar and foreign to him, now something that overwhelms him with its depth and weight whenever he’s around this woman. And it’s that thought, that thought of how Solana managed to completely turn his life around in the best way possible that convinces him maybe, just maybe, she’s right.

“Thank you.” Another whispered thing that emanates from the deepest part of him. “Thank you, Solana.”

She makes a sound and kisses the underside of his bearded jaw. “Never have to thank me for loving you, Ro.” It’s a natural thing for her at this point. Something that feels like it was always meant to be.

They were always meant to be.

—-------

Blood. 

So much blood. 

Too much blood.

She has to save him.

Spewing, streaming, bleeding from open, gaping wounds. So many wounds, the blood saturating the dark, bulky armor that he wears. Armor that, no matter how much she tries, she can’t get off him. And she needs to get it off to treat him, to help him, to do what no one else will.

Because no one else is there.

It’s him, and it’s her, and she has to save him. 

There is no one else to do so.

But try as hard as she can, for all of her efforts, Solana’s hands and clothes continue to stain red from the blood that continues to pour out of him at an alarming rate, much quicker than anything she’s ever seen, which is how she knows there are several bullet and/or stab wounds

She has to save him. 

Her mouth opens, words of desperation and pleas tumbling out as works endlessly to treat him, begs of mercy to God, to whomever, to anyone, to hear her cries. Blood soaked hands that intermittently go to shake him, to keep him from drifting, but she knows this scene. Knows it all too well. 

Has seen it play out before.

And, it guts her.

“Stay with me, okay?” She gasps, her chest feeling like it’s about to explode at any moment. “Just—just stay, okay? You’re—you’re gonna be okay.”

He says nothing, has said nothing, just continues to lay there, rendered silent to his injuries. Injuries he’s slowly succumbing to. 

“I’m gonna s—s–ave you,” she promises, going back to trying to remove the goddamn armor for him only for it to not bulge once more. She shouts out in frustration, gasping violently, using her forearm to wipe at her eyes. The tears blurring her vision serve as a barrier she can’t afford. “It’s—Roman?” Breathing halts. Time stops. Existence ceases. “R–Ro?” A trembling hands digs through the material covering his neck to feel for his pulse, Solana immediately gasping and snatching back her hand. “N–no.” Solana shakes her head, moving to shake him. “R—Roman, wake up. Please—please wake up—” Her please of mercy are a stark contrast to the empty, vacant look in his eyes. A look she’s only seen once before on the only other day of her life where it all ended.

The day her mother was killed.

The sob escapes from the back of her throat, as she moves her body over his, still trying to shake him awake, refusing to lose him to the devastating grips of fate. “W–wake up!” Her cries echo in the void of the abyss that surrounds him. “You–you can’t leave us. W—wake up!”

“Solana!”

Solana shoots up with a violent gasp, immediately hyperventilating, eyes wide and forward and focused on nothing in general. Not at first, at least. It’s only when Roman hits the light on the nightstand and moves his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, Solana starts to come down from the shock and into the hysterics.

She moves her hands to his bare chest, feeling around, needing to feel and see for herself.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice finally registers, as she realizes he’s been trying to talk to and calm her down this entire time. “Solana—”

“It felt so real,” she cries, unable to shake the violent imagery away. “You were—” She can barely get the words out, something Roman seems against as he tries to settle, seeing how talking is even more distressing for her. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t save you.”

It’s only then he seems to understand why she’s so upset, knows the content of her dreams, “baby, I’m fi—”

“I can’t lose you,” she gasps, moving her hands to his forearms, holding him. “I can’t lose you, Roman.”

“You’re not going to, Sol,” he vows, hand cradling the back of her head. “Baby, I’m fine. Nothing is going to—”

Solana continues to shake her head, one hand dropping to her stomach. “I can’t—I can’t raise the girls without you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, expression sympathetic. “Solana, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me.” Her voice is sudden and desperate, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “Promise me nothing’s going to happen to you.”

There’s hesitation, only for a second, but not enough to draw her attention. “I promise nothing’s going to happen to me, Solana.”

Words. A sentence. But, it does something for her. Clearly and visibly decreases her spiked anxiety. Solana nods, closing her eyes and moving herself into Roman’s chest as he guides them so that they’re laying back down, her body pressed into his.

Unaware that at the same time Roman tries to comfort his wife, elsewhere across town, various notifications arrive. One a text, the other an answer. 

One of departure from one group. 

*Jey Uso has left the Operation RoSo conversation*

One informing of arrival into another.

Jey Uso: I’m in.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hello. Can you write yandere In ho ( frontman) headcanon ? ( reader female or gn neutral) pleasee🥺💞

Yes of course! <3

Yandere Hwang In-ho x gn!reader headcanons

Squid Game masterlist

Nsfw and dead dove do not eat below

-

Hwang In-ho first got interest in you while watching the red light, green light game. He loved seeing your frightened face when players around you got mercilessly killed.

That was perhaps the first time he had gotten really hard while watching. He did not know what it was about you that made him feel that way, but he didn't care, he started masturbating then and there while watching you with the idea in mind to join the games and get to know you.

After he joined the games at the vote and it was his turn, pressing O to continue them, he felt sick pleasure cursing through him when he saw your face drop and the fear in your eyes.

In-ho likes watching your every move, he loves the uncertainty before every game. He would first introduce himself to you after he saw how lonely you are, how vulnerable you looked to him. You need someone to protect you, and he's the right one to do it since no one else had the balls to beat the shit out of that purple haired junkie called Thanos.

His interest in you grew from minute to minute and he quickly found himself ordering the guards to not harm you and focus on keeping you alive and well.

In-ho made a mental promise to himself that he will make sure you survive, either by capturing you or having you as the winner.

At night time, In-ho stays awake, watching you sleep with a twisted smirk on his face, knowing that he will soon have you all for himself, in his chambers, without any way of escaping.

Any other guy taking an interest in you will find his demise, either directly by his bloody hands or getting disqualified.

In-ho may even be twisted enough to make an example out of a random guy trying to get in his way between you by beating him up or, the harmless variant, threatening with his typical cold stares.

With the time, In-ho gets increasingly possessive, his favourite being having his hand on your shoulder, waist or even touching you close to your private areas while you're sleeping.

In-ho would constantly daydream while watching you from a distance, imagining how fun it would be to have you with him, forcing you to watch the game as he has you on his lap, keeping you in place with a tight grip or sleeping in the same bed as him, without a single way of getting away from him.

In-ho is jealous and caring by nature, but also manipulative and possessive, he would try manipulating you by telling you every guy in here tries getting your affection, only to dump you off the second they get the chance in order for survival and that only he's the one showing you true affection and he can get pretty 'territorial' when it comes to you, meaning he will not hesistate snapping necks with his bare hands.

Sometimes he gets so lost in you that he cannot suppress the desire stirring inside him, so he often goes to the bathroom, spending his time in there jerking off at the thought of you and how much he wants you.

The pure jealousy and hatred in his eyes when he sees you laughing with another guy - In-ho knows whom to kill next.

His stares would be so intense that you could feel them burn right through your head, making the fear bubble up in you, but In-ho enjoys knowing he makes you feel that way - to ensure you stay submissive and good for him.

Hwang In-ho hasn't had a partner for a long time, and you seem like the perfect one for him.

[bokunoheros]

ཐིཋྀ KINKTOBER - day 23 corruption : tomura shigaraki

warnings : DARK CONTENT, afab reader, non-con, mention of the word r*pe, somnophilia, no quirks, reader and shigs are co-workers at a boring 9-5 job, gagging, kind of bondage?, stockholm syndrome?, this shit is sick and twisted btw

word count : 880

🐙 note : i’d let him rape me sorry yall im so normal about him

tomura shigaraki was an interesting character; he was never really on time to work and he always performed sloppily at his job. to be honest you weren’t quite sure how he wasn’t fired, perhaps it was because your manager was his adoptive father. despite that, it was obvious the poor man had a crush on you, he wasn’t exactly good at hiding it. he’d often stare at you as you passed by or he’d linger by your desk more so than others, chatting you up about nothing in particular. his presence was always overwhelming, as though he was dangerous and not to be trusted, something about him simply made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. if someone told you what he would do to you, well you wouldn’t really be shocked but you should’ve seen what was coming, you should’ve been more careful, you should’ve taken precautions to prevent what happened, but sadly, you didn’t realize until it was too late.

it started off subtle, little things you would notice; like how your bedroom door was always open even though you swear you closed it, or finding your underwear laying around your house after it had gone missing. however, tomura’s admiration for you grew, so much so that he couldn’t stop himself from making advances on you behind the scenes. he’d find himself breaking into your apartment while you slept or were out running errands. doing nothing but being in your home for hours was enough to satisfy him. like a total creep he’d just pretend he lived there, he’d sit on the couch and watch TV or drink some water from your fridge, even sometimes when he was feeling brave he’d sit beside your bed and watch you sleep. often in times like those he would let his mind wander, wander to places about your intimate life. he’d wonder to himself if you were a virgin, if you like taking his cock like a pillow princess, if you were good at sucking dick. every once and a while, he’d even masturbate to your sleeping body, lying there helpless and peacefully.

but for tomura, today was a very special day; today was the day he decided he would make a real move on you. he’d finally work up the courage to try and advance to the next stage with you. it was a typical day for the both of you, work was slow and there was too much typing to be done on your computers. as per usual, shigaraki would wait by your desk in the morning to greet you and would ask you every question under the sun about the presentation you were working on. it was a long and grueling day, once you got home you shoved your shoes off, threw your briefcase down, and flopped on the couch with a heavy sigh. you ended up falling asleep without realizing it, being too exhausted from the day to bother showering or taking your makeup off.

you don’t know what woke you, if it was the sharp sting in your lower abdomen or the strong grip on your waist. you awake to find shigaraki lingering over you, a sadistic and creepy smile on his face. you almost screamed but couldn’t when you realized your mouth was stuffed full of your own panties. tomura was inside you, thrusting in and out at an animalistic pace. you tried to squirm out of his hold but couldn’t when you noticed his other hand had yours held tightly above your head.

you closed your eyes and squeezed, hoping, praying that this was just some sick joke and that this wasn’t happening to you. you wished that it couldn’t be true, that tomura shigaraki didn’t just break into your house to rape you as you slept. the pain was unbearable, the way he pushed himself into you left an ache between your thighs, his drool leaking onto your tits that were pulled out of your blouse.

“you’re so wet for me, pretty. you love how i fuck you right? doesn’t it feel good?”

he was taunting you, the sick bastard broke into your home and violated you and now he had the nerve to ask if you were enjoying it?

“please—please let me go, it hurts, it hurts!”

your screams were muffled by the gag in your mouth, all you could do was wiggle in his grasp and stare up at his enveloping gaze. his ruby eyes stared into your soul, you couldn’t look away despite the way they burned into your being.

yet somehow, against all logic, it started to feel… almost… good? the feeling was painful but almost pleasurable and suddenly shigaraki’s twisted evil smile turned you on, you found yourself smiling back at him with the same disgusting demeanor. your screams of pain turned into moans and whimpers, you found yourself squirming more because of how good it felt then the pain of it all. tears welled up in your eyes, from the awful situation? because it felt amazing? because the man you knew as nothing more than a coworker was invading your entire being? you had no idea but the tears spilled over and tomura licked them away.

“don’t be sad baby, just enjoy it.”

[queers-gambit]

Talk Shit, Get Hit

prompt: ( requested ) your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader characters are ALL aged 18 years old

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.4k+

note: the reader is aggressive. the reader is violent. the reader’s hands are rated ‘E’ for Everyone.

warnings: you know the drill: author projects instead of going to therapy and uses personal experience as details. there's physical violence, aggressive reader, depiction of shitty home life / toxic family, (somewhat severe) abusive alcoholic parent, parental abandonment, cursing, bullying, Jason Carver's sister is the bully, injury and blood. cursing, threats, brief cigarette and illicit material use (marijuana / weed), i guess this is hurt and comfort, angst, we talk about Billy's abuse with Neil, too, and kinda abrupt ending.

PLEASE NOTE -

this fic will depict parental abuse, both emotional and physical. this fic will discuss an alcoholic parent. this fic will detail physical violence BY the reader.

DO NOT engage if any of these topics potentially trigger you. you will miss nothing if you decide to skip. author implores readers to value and prioritize their own comfort and mental health.

Of all the days Brittany Carver could've chosen, she picked the worst day imaginable to bully you - being akin to a ticking time bomb. To your immense surprise, she'd laid off that entire week, focused on the "big" cheerleading competition she was leading Hawkins High to victory in. It left her no energy to engage in her favorite past time of tormenting you; figuring that after 6 years of her brutal behavior, she had grown up and lost interest. You weren't someone who people bullied easily, but this thing with Brittany, it was some kind of twisted pissing contest; competition brewing in elementary school that boiled over during middle school and now lasted into high school.

However, God seemed to have a sick sense of humor because on the week your bully had temporarily forgotten your existence, things at home had escalated to a new height not previously known. It was true what they said: if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

The entire week, your mother had only been sober for - well - none of it. She was found morning, noon, and night slumped over in various locations around your home with different bottles of liquor in her grip. The house grew messier each day, a direct result of a checked-out parent refusing to do any chore and destructive little monsters that took form as your twin little brothers. You couldn't keep up, playing mother, sister, housewife, personal maid, and full-time student all at once; pushing your stress levels higher, making you bitter and short tempered. The times your mother was conscious, which was typically to find a new bottle of alcohol, she was a right nasty fuck.

Her bark matched her bite; not only yelling at you, belittling you, and gaslighting you - but also using physical aggression to "teach you a lesson" for being "disorderly" or "a waste of semen" - and yes, that is a direct quote. Her hands were dainty from malnourishment, bulging veins prominent, and despite your father abandoning the family ages go, she still wore her diamond wedding ring that left small cuts wherever she struck you. The times she wasn't sober enough to really "get" you, she put out cigarettes on your arms and thighs; leaving tiny, circular burn scars you coated in Neosporin. She’s been known to break a few wooden cooking spoons over your head, steal the money made from babysitting, even cashed-in your inheritance - pawning all of your dead grandmother’s jewelry. There were plenty of other examples, but dwelling on those instances wouldn't change the past or alter your future, so you stuffed them way deep down in your soul.

Naturally, you didn't say a Goddamn thing; under the impression that everyone had shitty family members they tolerated and that your home life was normal enough to not report to the police. You didn't know any better, you didn't know that your mother downing fifths of alcohol daily was cause for concern. You didn't know that abuse wasn't the standard - emotional or physical. It took years for you to learn that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that love wasn't supposed to scare you, that love wasn't selfish, that your mother didn't actually love you. It took years to convince yourself that you were worthy of love and acceptance, never receiving it from your mother - not knowing you could get it from anyone else.

And then, William fucking Hargrove - or Billy - breezed into your small hometown with a sweet denim-clad ass, golden, curly mullet, and a bad fucking attitude that rivaled your own.

It was a match made in heaven. Or hell.

You both suffered at the hands of your parental figures, turning abrasive and foul-mouthed as defense mechanisms. You and Billy developed hardened exteriors in an effort to protect your soft insides, and when you met officially, it was as if you two could see past that hard shell - straight through the bullshit. You recognized much of the same in one another - like looking in a mirror - and grew impossibly close in an incredibly short amount of time; grateful to have a second half who understood without ever needing explanation.

He just got you. Able to identify common threads between you. Billy understood you, having more empathy than you thought he could muster. He protected you. He loved you. He took care of you - and you did the exact same, considering you two were cut from the same cloth; wanting to assure him he was just as worthy of love as you.

Billy was known around Hawkins for being a womanizing jock with anger issues, and yet, when you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he never even looked at another girl twice. He felt as if dating his best friend, understanding that nobody else would truly understand him the way you do - so he did what he could to keep you.

He did his best to defend you, but there was only so many tangible things the star basketball player could protect you from. Gossip and petty cheerleaders, prime examples. Yet Billy still tried, even taking the liberty to confront Brittany's brother, Jason Carver, about leaving you alone. Unfortunately, it was as if Billy's concern spurred on the cheerleader's bullying, calling you pathetic for hiding behind a man and sending him to fight your battles. You told Billy to stay out of it, that you could handle the situation by yourself, that he would just make the situation much more sticky.

So he did. Billy backed off, letting you deal with the situation as best you deemed; offering his support in return, being a shoulder to cry on for the days your frustration peaked.

That entire week Brittany didn't bully you had been extraordinarily tiresome due to your mother's abuse, wanting to confide in Billy but refraining when you rationalized not bringing him into your bullshit. He had enough of his own. So, while, yes, it was a comfort to have him on your side, you never indulged Billy on the woes of your life. He was meant to be your escape, not your savior; the burden of shouldering your abuse while enduring his own feeling terribly unfair.

You kept quiet, even though you were silently begging for someone to save you. Yet you weren't a damsel, there was no Prince Charming, brave knight, chosen champion to slay the dragons terrorizing you.

However, your boyfriend was much more intuitive than you realized. You always prided yourself on your acting skills, convincing everyone around you that you were indifferent to your mother's temperament, even when showing up at school with a casted wrist, black eye, and split bottom lip. Turns out, parents in Hawkins gossiped much more than the kids, and soon, it felt like the entire town knew about your abusive alcoholic mother and runaway father. Nobody did anything to help you, they just tiptoed around the knowledge and stared at your injuries. Brittany Carver was the only person stupid enough to make the mistake of weaponizing your home situation.

It was a tepid spring afternoon, the sun peaking through the clouds and the first flowers sprouting from the thawing ground. The bell rang to dismiss for lunch, the hallways filled with mingling and milling students all grateful for the midday break. Some gathered in gaggles of friends, some headed directly for the cafeteria, and others, like you, utilized the time to exchange morning class books for afternoon materials. Your fractured wrist had long since healed, but there was a long, straight scar present as a result from the surgery you required; currently, a scabbing cut over your eyebrow, lips stinging from where the flesh split, with a collection of bruises turning different colors to represent various healing stages.

Today simply hadn't been your day.

After a week of constant alcohol-fueled battery, you felt your frustrations finally crescendo after being assigned 3 separate essays; doubling your stress, shortening your fuse, and creating heavy leaded dread as the minutes ticked by. Everyone else felt giddy for the spring-tastic weekend, wanting time to go faster so they could go home - but not you. You might've been the one teenager in the city - no, no, the county - no, wait! The state - WAIT, NO... The country, who didn't want to leave school. You didn't want the day to end and be forced out of your safety zone; anxiety twisting your stomach and prickling your skin at the thought of returning home.

Truthfully, you spent several nights a week at Billy's, being snuck in through his window; feeling unsafe in your own home and wanting to remain close without voicing your need for his proximity. You felt stronger with Billy, as if you could take on the world; as if your safety and wellbeing were (finally) a real priority. He took great pride in being that safe haven for you, thinking it a nice change of pace as he often never seized opportunities to prove himself compassionate and caring. Billy was known for being a brute, someone aggressive and commandeering; nobody associating "safety" with him - except you.

However, this wasn't one of those weekends you'd be able to sneak out, being forced into caring for your two wee brothers; them needing you, dependent on you, relying on the care and love you provide them.

As a result of your shitty week, you had been a right, foul bitch to those unfortunate enough to engage you. Being well aware of your attitude, you tried to avoid everyone, not wanting to lash out at innocent peers - labeling yourself a bitch because of your impeccable self-awareness. Though, no matter the labels you assigned, you simply couldn't rein your emotions into check given your anxiety over returning home overpowered your brain.

Knowing you'd be forced to defend yourself against your own mother set your teeth on edge, projecting your horrible mood onto anyone in your vicinity - making most keep their distance.

Keyword: most.

Much like her brother, captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, Brittany Carver wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch. She never picked up hints, she didn't bother reading the room or in-between any lines; she held little to no regard for those around her or their emotional state. Brittany just wanted to assert herself as Queen Bee and thought the best way to achieve that was by bullying those she deemed lesser then she. It gave her a power trip, made her feel swollen with importance, boosting her ego because in her mind, she'd rather be feared than loved.

Brittany was dressed in her pretty, pressed, and bright cheer uniform; her obnoxiously blonde hair tied in a high ponytail that swished dramatically with each step. She wore cherry flavored lip gloss, her make-up caked, skirt hiked higher than school regulation permitted because she suckled at the teat for attention - good or bad.

You heard the second bell ring and finished shoving books in your locker, trying to stuff notebooks in your bag when your locker was suddenly violently slammed shut. Flinching at the quick movement and aggressive bang, you glared at whoever dared interrupt you; a manicured hand flat on the metal to keep the locker closed.

"The fuck you want, Brittany?"

"Awh, someone's already got their panties in a twist," she mocked, two of her cronies giggling their support. "C'mon, babe, I was just stopping by to say hello - missed you this week!"

"Oh, for sure," you sneered in a sickly-sweet tone, "of course you missed me, your life is so much more boring without me in it, huh? Wow, seriously, Brittany, I'm flattered to be the main character in your life, too."

Her eyes rolled and one of the other cheerleaders at her flank, Jennifer, popped flavorless gum. "I'm surprised you still have this level of spunk and cheek to talk like that, would've thought Mommy Dearest beat it out of you by now - she hits you often enough, right? Doesn't she? Hmm, well, maybe she needs to hit you a little harder."

"Excuse me?" You snapped.

"You heard me!" She laughed. "Obviously your mom isn't teaching you any lessons since you still have this whole emo-attitude going on. But I can't say I blame her, you're such a bitch - I'd smack the shit outta you, too."

You nodded slowly, not realizing several students had paused themselves to watch the exchange; knowing this was a longtime coming and didn't want to miss the inevitable drama. Dropping your backpack, you asked, "You sure? You really wanna hit me?"

"Is it that hard to believe? I mean," she smirked, "your own mother does - of course, I do, too. Like, seriously, it's not a secret why she hits you - just look at you! No wonder she hates you, you're just a waste of space, resources, and money. Damn shame Billy doesn't see it yet, but don't worry, he will." She laughed again, "He'll get tired of reopening your lip every time you kiss. It's so pathetic and ugly, he'll start to crave what you can't offer. I mean, seriously, what guy with any self-respect wants to date a girl as broken as you?"

"Know what, Brittany?" You growled, balling your fists at your side. "I'll give you one free hit."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Yeah," your head nodded, "go ahead. One free, clean shot. Hit me if you want to so bad, but you'll only get just this one shot."

Her eyes rolled, "I don't need to, your mom's got that covered."

"Free hit, Brit," you taunted, gesturing, "c'mon, go 'head, lemme have it. Since I'm so insufferable, go right ahead - get your clean hit."

Jennifer and Jasmine shared strange looks, the latter nudging, "Just do it, Brittany, shut this stupid bitch the hell up."

"Yeah, Brittany, shut me the hell up."

She looked to her little goons with a smirk, shrugged and handing over her backpack. When Brittany turned again, she dramatically wound her arm back and used her full strength to swing her fist into your cheek; only making your head turn a fraction from impact. You hummed and nodded, the cheerleader laughing with her girls as if she had "shown you" - but her amusement died when she noticed you barely reacted.

You smirked, cracking your neck, "My turn!"

Your knuckle cracked the bridge of the cheerleader's nose - sick sound of a snap ringing in your ears and jolting the girl's head backwards; momentum forcing her to stumble. Brittany shrieked in pain, holding her nose, unable to defend herself as you launched your attack; first slamming her back into the lockers before jabbing your fist into any vulnerable spot you could.

Similar to the movies, you held Brittany by her hair to keep her in place; wailing your punches repeatedly, each hit making Britt bang into the lockers. Jennifer and Jasmine tried to pull you away but both earned their own punches or elbows to the face for the interference. You focused on Brittany, instantly curating a flock of students all eager to watch.

"FIIIIIIGHT!"

"GIRL FIGHT!"

"BEAT HER ASS, Y/N!"

Brittany sobbed as blood dribbled down her front, staining her pretty uniform, but you were just getting started. The hallway turned noisy, a circle forming around you four as all three cheerleaders were staved off; you running on pure anger, adrenaline, and overflowing frustration that encouraged your foot to kick Britt's gut. You'd never admit it, but Brittany's mocking had hurt you past words, made you feel vulnerable, disarmed, as if you were damaged, undeserving goods. With each punch or kick or stomp, you remembered a different instance of your mother's abuse, seeing her face instead of Brittany's; spurring you on with unrestrained force.

In the parking lot, Billy was leaning on his car with a few teammates from the basketball team and enjoying a hearty nicotine-filled break. Though they'd never label it as such, the boys exchanged idle gossip; listening to Conrad Jones detail his latest conquest, sneering about how "easy" Kennedy Stephens was. They were interrupted when Kyle Lambert sprinted up to them, sneakers skidding over asphalt, panting dramatically, "Billy! Billy! Y-You gotta come see this, man! You gotta help!"

"What?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I-It's your girl - it's Y/N!"

He pushed off his car that was supporting his weight, demanding, "What about her?"

"You gotta come quick, man, you gotta see this! It's fucking wild! Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine tried jumping her - "

Billy was surging across the carpark instantly, tossing his cigarette away before yanking the school doors open. He was instantly greeted by the chaotic sight and sounds of a fight, peers gathered in a large circle; screaming their support and hollering encouragement.

"Billy! Oh, thank God!!" Chrissy Cunningham cried, waving him closer. "You have to help! You have to do something, it's 3-on-1!"

He didn't acknowledge the strawberry blonde, just started instantly shoving through the crowd to reach the edge of the fight. It wasn't the sight he was anticipating - fearing the worst, now pleasantly surprised (and a little turned on).

Blood was splattered on the linoleum floors, a single streak smeared on the lockers. Jennifer was left on the ground with her back against the metal, sporting a busted lip as Jasmine was trying to coax her to her feet - sporting a ruddy face and disheveled look. Left in the center, to the entertainment of the crowd, was you on top of Brittany Carver, heaving your fist time and again into her face.

"Shit," he breathed, intending to step forward to stop the fight but needing to shove Tommy H. out of his way when he stepped forward.

"C'mon, man! It's a girl fight! Don't break it up!" Tommy begged, but Billy bullied through.

"All right, that's enough," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up and back a step - needing to engage his core and arms when you wriggled in an effort to free yourself. "Hey, hey, hey - "

"Lemme go! This bitch needs put in the ground!"

"Jesus Christ, when did you get this strong?" He grunted, your feet slipping on blood but still being restrained by your boyfriend's impressive strength.

"Talk your shit again, bitch!" You barked at Brittany, who was sobbing in pain and curling into herself. "Lemme hear you say another Goddamn word, you'll need more than another nose job! Fake ass, plastic bitch!"

Jason joined the center and knelt at his sister's side, helping her sit up, glaring at you and Billy. Your boyfriend grit his teeth when Jason snarled, "You need to muzzle your bitch, Billy!"

"I'll fuck you up for talkin' about her like that, Carver, don't provoke me. Watch yourself," Billy snapped in warning, successfully managing to get you behind him.

However, you dodged around him with only enough time to spit hatefully on Brittany, warning, "You wanna talk shit, you'll get hit! Don't let me hear you again - don't you ever dare say another word about my mama! I'll put you in the ground, bitch, fucking try me! I dare you! Try me again, say shit about my mama, and see what the fuck I do!"

"All right, all right, you made your point," Billy stiffly told you, pulling you away by force to avoid you actually killing Brittany. He got a look at her injuries, thinking there must've been more than a broken nose from the way her uniform was stained and her entire face bloodied. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here, come with me - c'mon, baby, you can't touch her anymore, you made your point, you'll end up killin' her or some shit," he panted, shoving through the crowd and effectively ending the fight.

Billy didn't let go of your form until finally outside - letting you rip yourself away as your blood boiled, adrenaline making you much stronger. He watched you pace; huffing, puffing, seething, all but gnashing your teeth hatefully. "That fucking bitch had it coming, Bee, it was self defense!" You finally explained.

"Oh, yeah, princess, totally looked like it," he scoffed, blocking the doors in case you tried to go back. He lit another cigarette.

"It was, you condescending asshole!" You snapped, eyes ablaze and anger tangible. "She approached me, she ran her mouth, and she hit me first!"

"Well," he sighed, "whatever the reason, it's not worth jail time for beating her to death."

"Might be."

"Ain't nothing worth throwing your life away," he offered you the cigarette, but you refused. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? What'd she say?"

"It doesn't matter, Billy."

"I think it matters when she looks like she's gonna need a blood transfusion to replenish what she's lost."

"Whatever - let it be a lesson that you shouldn't throw stones if you're scared of a boulder."

Billy sighed, smoke blown from his mouth, "C'mon, doll, tell me what happened?"

"Doesn't matter, it's done, it's over, it's in the past."

"Baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"You can't help, period, Billy! There's nothing you can do!"

"Well, you're not even letting me try!"

"'Cause it's redundant!"

"Obviously not when you look like a raging bull!"

Your eyes rolled, head shaking, "I handled it."

"I saw," he scoffed. "So, 3-on-1? How'd that happen?"

"I told you, they approached me."

"Well, I'm gonna need a little more to go on. C'mon, pretty girl, the fuck just happened? You know you can get suspended!" This made you freeze, muscles clamming up, looking purely petrified as if the thought hadn't occurred to you. "I know you don't want that, but if you talk to me, maybe I can help lessen whatever punishment."

"Oh, whatever, like I care about being punished," you snipped, hands twisting together - telling Billy you were beginning to get anxious.

"I think you do, it'd put you in the house with your mom alone," he trailed, pushing away from the doors to approach you like a baby deer. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get suspended, so just tell me what happened."

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your little basketball buddies."

"I don't fucking care!" He snapped with the cigarette trapped and bobbing between his lips, making you look at him in mild shock. "There's gonna be a hundred different rumors, whole fuckin' school watched you beat the shit outta those girls - but I only care about what you have to say."

"There's no point - "

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he growled, snatching the cig between his knuckles, "I just saw three bitches on the ground, all injured, beaten up, bleeding - so stop being so Goddamn stubborn and just tell me! I'm tryna help you!"

"You pulled me off of her, you've helped plenty."

"I'd like to understand how this happened."

"It won't change anything."

"No, it won't, but you have a side to the story. Tell me what went wrong? What happened?"

You sighed, no longer pacing, planting both hands on your hips. Your head shook as Billy tossed the filtered cigarette butt aside, muttering when he exhaled the last of the smoke, "It seems so stupid now."

"Hey," he soothed, crowding into your space and taking one of your hands in his. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. You're forgetting, I know well enough to understand you wouldn't throw a punch unless absolutely necessary. Whatever got you riled up like that ain't stupid, sweetheart."

Like a glazed donut, your eyes turned glassy. Billy frowned and took your other hand off your hip, forcing your attention on him. "I swear, I didn't start it," you whispered.

"Only matters that you finished it," he smirked. "Tell me, what the fuck was all that?"

You sighed deeply, offering meekly, "Guess they had it comin'..."

"I know they did," Billy chuckled. "Nobody's that stupid to provoke you, except Brittany."

"I was at my locker... They approached and slammed it shut."

"Right, okay..."

"There were words exchanged, but Brittany, she - " You paused, swallowing thickly, "she started talkin' shit about my mom, about, you know, what she does..."

Billy understood instantly. "You fuckin' serious?" He growled, seeing you nod and fill him in on what was said - unable to look him in the eye as you relived your anger. By the end, you were trembling in emotion and adrenaline loss, Billy sighing deeply and yanking you into his chest for a tight embrace. "All right, yeah," he mumbled, "should've put them bitches in the ground."

"And now," you sniffled, "I'm gonna get suspended, forced to stay home with Ma all next week."

"We'll get you outta it."

"Can't, the school doesn't tolerate fighting on school grounds."

"You said she swung first?"

"Technically, yes. I might've - allegedly - prompted her into it."

"It's still selfdefense, toots, no matter what you or anyone said - if she swung first and hit you, you were only defending yourself."

You shrugged, resting on his chest, "You see the damage? Admin won't care who swung first - not when they're beat to shit."

"Yeah, there's my li'l hothead," he smirked, chuckling slightly before pecking the top of your head. "But you gotta admit, it's impressive how you took on all three."

"I guess, doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment."

"Nah, princess, seriously," he pulled you back to look at him again, "that's fuckin' hot. I mean, they approached you and still got their asses handed to 'em. That's straight skill."

"Or just a lot of anger with nowhere to go," you frowned. "Think I should go find admin?"

"Nah, they'll probably find you - "

The doors opened and your name was called, the principal's secretary waving you to her. "Fuck," you whispered, releasing Billy.

"I'll come with you," he promised, lacing your fingers together when he took your hand. Billy had to admit, it was a little weird being in the principal's office but not being the one in trouble; waiting without patience in a fraying chair, picking at the exposed stuffing with his leg bouncing. He'd been there 45 minutes, skipping the last half of classes, just waiting as you were behind a closed door with the principal, vice principal, and the disciplinary officer.

He looked up when the school nurse lead Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine inside - glaring at them but admiring the scattering of cuts and bruises with dried blood on their precious uniforms. A few minutes later, you were exiting the office with a passive and neutral expression settled on your face. Your lip curled only slightly when you clocked the cheerleaders - hating how smug they all looked - approaching Billy instantly.

"You all right?" He checked, standing and adjusting his jeans.

"Mhm," you nodded, keeping your voice low as the principal called the three cheerleaders into his office. You waited until the door was closed, then informed with a smirk, "I'm not suspended."

"No?"

"Nope," you confirmed. "Apparently, they asked a couple other kids what happened and my story matches theirs. I was minding my business, they came up to me, they started mouthing off, and Brittany was the one who hit me first. So," you shrugged, "guess your idea of selfdefense held strong."

"See? That's good, huh?"

"Yeah," you sighed, nodding absently, "but he said the girls were gonna lose their spot on the cheer squad for this. Listen, I don't think I feel like goin' back to class - kinda just wanna take a nap."

Billy hiked up his jean jacket sleeve, consulting his watch for a moment. "Wanna head to mine? Neil's got the evening shift and Susan has bridge club for a few more hours - we'd be alone."

Your eyes rolled, "No offense, Bee, I don't feel like fucking right now."

"I'm not sayin' that, I'm sayin' let's go nap at mine," he chuckled, picking up your backpack that you forgot about. "We can come back to get your brothers but you know you're not gonna rest if you go home."

You gulped, sighing sadly, "Yeah, well, about that..."

"Something else happen?"

"Apparently... The school has an obligation to call the police if a student reports abuse."

"You reported your mom?"

"Not on purpose," you rushed in defense, "just that... I had to explain what Brittany said to me - so I had to admit what Ma did - or does."

Billy frowned, "Jesus."

"Yeah, so... Maybe going home isn't the smartest idea right now. I wouldn't wanna be there when they conduct their wellness check."

"You wanna stay at mine?" He offered.

"What about Neil?"

"He's a lot nicer with you around," he admitted. "Won't care too much if you stay the night. Plus Max has that club thing after school, then she's going to the arcade; so, she won't need a ride, we can just go."

"You know what? Sure, all right, I'll come to yours," you accepted, your lover boy whisking you away without a second thought. "Thank you, baby."

Your hands were stiff, and when you looked at them, noted split skin and stained blood as a reminder of your aggression... Wondering why the fuck people pushed you to these limits and acted surprised when you reacted? If they wanted a punching bag, they picked the wrong one - but you were willing to remind them.

When you got to the Hargrove residence, you were silent as the grave; stewing in your anger that rolled off you in projected waves. Billy was terribly disarmed, unsure how to properly comfort you - wondering how he would want to be comforted, realizing he'd want to be alone, not subject to anyone's bullshit advice. So, he did what he knew and after handing you a bag of frozen peas for your split knuckles, comfortably stripped and crashed in bed with the window cracked and a rolled joint between his fingers.

You rested on his bare chest, sighing deeply while watching the end of the spliff come to life in a smoldering ember. Billy took the first inhale to make sure it was lit and instantly handed it to you, his arm snug around you and the silence hanging in the air like the swirls of stale, exhaled smoke.

"I'm sorry it got to this point, pretty girl," He offered awkwardly, his other arm bending to prop under his head. Both of you stared off aimlessly, stereo filling the space dully in the background.

"Not your fault," You inhaled and held your breath, handing him the joint. He casually flicked the end in an ashtray resting on the window sill.

"No, but I could've done more."

You chuckled, smoke seeping through your lips and teeth, "Oh, yeah? How? You gonna beat up three girls?"

"Nah but I could beat the shit outta Jason."

"What good would that do?"

"If he didn't want a weekly black eye, Jason would control his sister."

"It's always about control with you, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying," he handed the joint back, lungs pinched to hold the smoke, "I could protect you."

"You already do, baby."

"Let me do more, princess."

"You can't fight every battle for me."

"You could let me try."

"You'd be fighting on two fronts," you frowned, exhaling slowly. "Can't fight for me when you're defending yourself against Neil."

"Might be easier to deal with your shit than my own," he chuckled without humor, accepting the spliff. "Look, I know you don't want me involved, but that's kinda what a boyfriend's supposed to do, right? Protect their woman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Never had a boyfriend before?"

"Nobody was worth dating until you. Nobody could understand me the way you do so effortlessly."

"'Cause we're one and the same, baby girl. You don't have to do everything by yourself," he inhaled, handing the spliff over again, "don't always have t'be strong."

"Ain't no other choice."

"You could let me in more..."

"You're one to talk."

He sighed, smoke billowing. "You're right. Can't expect you to open up if I don't, so why don't we both try to let the other in more? Yeah, I get it, the shit we deal with ain't pretty but at least we understand each other, right? We're the best for each other to lean on."

"I don't wanna drag you into my bullshit, baby."

"I want you to drag me in, princess. I wanna help you."

You sighed, "Well, Brittany and her cronies are getting suspended and kicked off the cheer squad - they'll be looking for reason to take it out on me."

"Say the word, baby, and I'll beat Jason black-and-blue."

"You're so romantic."

"Only for you - so don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

You both snickered as the weed you indulged in took effect, lulling you two into a state of ease. Your knuckles had stopped burning, resting your injured hand under the frozen peas, reminding yourself to remain grateful in this turbulent period of life because now, you had someone on your team. Someone who wanted to help carry your baggage. Someone without alternate motives. Someone who was willing to withstand the storm in the hope of feeling the warmth of the sun again.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 5

"Now, calm down. Whatever happens, I’m with you."

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You're getting really tired of being whisked away. It's time to put a stop to it.

WORD COUNT:  4.6k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: kidnapping aftermath, confusion, mentions of abuse

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 I couldn't help including everyone 💜 We're nearing the end and the last part is fire 🔥🤭

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

The ringing in your ears was the first thing you noticed as you came to, making you groan in discomfort. Your mind was too hazy to realize why you felt this way, but then your wrists were released, and you snapped your eyes open.

You sucked in an anxious breath, forcing yourself to face the lights blurring your vision. You were getting sick and tired of all this bullshit kidnapping antics! You rubbed your wrists, now free, and felt the soft pillowy couch under you, but it did nothing to soothe your annoyance. If Jungkook thought this shit was funny—

You stiffened, facing the man in front of you, who was extending a glass of a transparent liquid in your direction. 

“Here.”

You frowned as you observed his features, but you didn’t recognize him. Interestingly, he was wearing a designer white suit, and you clenched your jaw. Before, you were too dazed to recognize the musky buttercup invading your nostrils, but now you knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that man was an alpha.

He waved the glass in front of you, and your features twisted just the slightest, displaying your anger and suspicion. You didn’t care who this guy was, but you could instantly tell he was part of the problem. Not only did you want nothing to do with any other alpha or Family, but you also were not a pawn to be pushed around in a stupid alpha game. Did Jungkook lie about even that? It seemed like the kidnapping tradition was up and well.

“You’ll feel better if you drink some water,” he smiled, keeping his offer.

You pursed your lips, sniffing discreetly to confirm that it was water, indeed. Then you looked into those almond-shaped eyes and took the glass with a quiet thank you. It could be the death of you, but your instinct just told you he was nice.

As soon as you drank, he sat and leaned back into a matching armchair with a grin beaming warmth, “So it is true.”

You finished the water and lowered the glass, weary. He could smell your designation, same as you, so there was no point in beating around the bush. “Where am I?”

“The Jung tower,” he smiled affably, and your brow furrowed. If that was supposed to mean something to you, it missed the mark.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jung Hoseok, at your service.”

Your lips twitched; you sincerely doubted that. Otherwise, you’d be at Jungkook’s apartment right now, not there, next to the head of the Jung Family.

“What am I doing here, Mr Jung?”

“Ahh, that’s hard to explain,” he laughed a bit embarrassedly, then leaned forward. “Maybe we can figure it out together? What’s your name?”

You told him and answered his questions about where you came from, why you were in Seoul, and what the last thing you remembered was. “They injected something,” you said bitterly, rubbing your neck. “And next thing I know, I’m here, talking to you.” He nodded gravely, and you sighed, “I understand your alpha traditions are prehistoric, but one would think your generation would know better than to act like Neanderthals.”

The way he burst out laughing with his hands on his chest made you smile, suddenly not feeling like you were addressing your captor, but a friend.

“You’re absolutely correct, and there’s no one else better to say it!”

He grinned and his phone buzzed, prompting him to text something hastily.

You licked your lips to ask softly, “So… are you going to let me go?”

“Certainly, you’re not a prisoner,” he assured before typing something and putting his phone down.

“And you won’t… harm me?”

“Of course not!”

His wide eyes conveyed shock, and you believed him, though you still reminded him, “But you could. For power.”

“Ah…” He nodded, and his expression became almost solemn, “I could, but it would just lead to more issues. And besides, you’re the omega. You can just tell me to stop, and I’d have a hard time.”

You tilted your head, “But an alpha’s voice is absolute.”

He grinned, “That’s true, but what about an omega’s voice?”

You shuddered and looked down, “So the stories about cutting their tongues or gagging them…”

“Some of them true, surely,” he agreed sadly. “A ruthless way to shift the balance between designations. An alpha’s command is incontestable, but an omega’s plea is undeniable to these alphas. They were seen as a weakness if they could talk.”

“But then, how would they be used as a weapon?”

It was likely a disadvantage that your curiosity sprung out like that, but he satisfied it, “What would you do if your mate was in trouble? Soulmates tend to be very protective, and alphas are probably the worst,” he laughed, rubbing his neck. “Then, don’t forget the worth of blood. An omega's child will always carry the alpha’s designation, so it keeps the line strong.”

You couldn’t bite back your bitterness, “Well, serves you well that you started disappearing in droves, then.”

“Ouch!” He laughed heartily again, “Lessons were surely learned.” His phone buzzed in his hands and he smirked, “Still, it was an honor to meet you.”

He got up with an extended hand for you to shake, and you scurried to do the same, a bit confused.

“You give me the hope that my mate might also be out there somewhere,” he smiled, shaking your hand gently with a head bow.

Your eyebrow twitched, unclear why he was suddenly sending you away and what you were supposed to do, but then you heard it. Beyond the closed door of that office, you recognize someone’s voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Hoseok let go of your hand, and you leaned in to whisper, “Just make sure you don’t kidnap her when you find her. Doesn’t make for a nice icebreaker.”

That was how Jungkook found you — standing with Hoseok, who was laughing his heart out. You turned to look at Jungkook, your hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder, and he raced across Hoseok’s office to get to you. To hold you in his arms, sweeping you off your feet, and burying his face in your neck. The relief flooding him was indescribable; he just couldn’t not hold you close to him, even if he knew he shouldn’t. Even if you were still mad at him and meaning to leave him, his heart hurt without you.

But he had to let go of you, only to be met with eyes that sparkled up at him. He touched your chin and was almost sure you felt the same way as him.

“I like her,” Hoseok grinned, stepping away to give you two space. “Even after being told she has power over me, she didn’t wield it.”

Jungkook nodded, eyeing you again. He had barely come to his senses yet; such a hasty instant was not enough to take you in fully, to make sure you were alright and safe. But he still let you go because he could read in your lowering eyes that it was what you wanted. He was thankful you stayed next to him, though.

Facing Hoseok, though, his anger resurfaced, “How did this happen? How did she end up here?”

“I was contacted by someone saying they had a gift that could increase the Jung’s prestige,” he glanced at you, then back at Jungkook, and his expression had lost all gentleness.

“By who?” Jungkook frowned and Hoseok passed him his phone.

“See for yourself.”

Jungkook frowned; it wasn’t a number he recognized, but he dialed it. Only a few seconds were needed for a man to pick up, “Ah, Alpha Jung. Like I said, a legit omega. Delicious, isn’t she? I hope you’re having fun with your new prize.”

Jungkook was so enraged his face was almost blood-red, “You’re fucking done.”

He shut down the call, threw Hoseok’s phone back, then grabbed your hand.

“I know who that is. I’ll call for a meeting immediately. My Family’s punishment is not enough for this perfidious insult.”

He dragged you behind him, utterly confused by what he meant, and Hoseok nodded and gave you a soft head bow as you left. You barely had any time to take in your surroundings, recognizing only a few posters on the wall, which reminded you that the Jung Tower housed multiple studios and productions.

Jungkook dragged you inside the elevator and hit the underground button before pulling you into his arms again, “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to push him away, not before, and not now. You were also relieved to see him and touch him again; the way you relaxed in his arms defied the meaning of soothing. Your very soul seemed to ease with his spicy scent tickling your nose, and you pulled him closer.

“Why does this keep happening?” You whispered near his ear, and he pulled away to face you.

“Because we’re all fucking stupid brutes,” his eyes glistened as he brushed your cheek. “I should have increased security around you, this is my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist with a sudden realization, “What about Mr Seung?!”

“He’s in the hospital, he’ll spend the night there, but he’s fine. It was just a drug, he’s not injured.”

You nodded, then closed your eyes with a grimace, “I’m so sorry for him, I dragged him into this.”

“No, this is not your fault.”

Your gaze was hard, “I’m the omega.”

“And everyone else needs to fucking get on with the times,” he said harshly, pulling you closer by the waist. 

Yet your eyes drifted, “Maybe it is best if I stay secluded in the village…”

“No, no fucking way,” his tone hardened, making your sad, tired eyes raise back again. It was enough for him to calm down a little, “This is not your fault, and I’ll make sure you get to live the life you want to live. I promise you, we’re going to handle it right now,” his finger brushed your skin so endearingly your eyes watered.

“I know you mean well, but you can’t control everyone,” your tone was soothing as you brushed your thumb over his pulse. “Jung Hoseok was nice, but what if the others aren’t?”

“They are. I might not be able to control everyone, but together, we can deal with this. Just trust me,” he glanced at your lips as the elevator slowed, and your expression held skepticism, but you nodded.

“Sir?”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on your lips, but then he let go, grabbing your hand instead. He turned to one of his bodyguards awaiting you two at the underground parking lot and gave orders while he took you with him. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you followed after him and inside the car that drove away swiftly.

You wanted to trust Jungkook, if nothing else, because your heart seemed to lean on him so much. The car drove you as he made a series of phone calls, but with his arm around you and your head on his chest, you found yourself ready to close your eyes and reset. Everything was alright as long as he was right there.

You didn’t manage to nap, though, because minutes later, you were approaching an extravagant skyscraper; you gasped, the tallest in Seoul. You knew only what everyone knew about it — it was the headquarters of some of the richest financial companies in the world, rumored to own the whole of Southeast Asia in their pockets.

This time, the car stopped right in front of the main entrance, and as you exited the car, taking support from Jungkook’s hand, another car stopped behind yours. Hoseok exited that vehicle with a smile and waved for you to go ahead. Jungkook brought you inside surrounded by his bodyguards, as you saw other cars stopping until a big mass of muscle prevented you from seeing anything anymore.

“Alright, how do you feel?” His long fingers drew your chin up, but he frowned before you could answer, “You look pale. Maybe we should take a moment. Do you want to drink something? Go to the bathroom? Eat? Maybe a chocolate would—”

“Jungkook—”

But your protest fell on deaf ears, “Gosh, what I am saying! I should take you to a hospital first, this can wait!”

His hand let go of your chin to grab your hand, but before it could, you threw your arms around his shoulders and cupped his cheeks, “Stop. I’m fine. You said you’d handle it right now, and I trust you.” Your heart skipped with the proximity, but you were too entranced to withdraw. “I’m ready, so let’s do it.”

You wondered if the proximity hit him too because he stayed quiet, observing your features with fascination. It was only because of the nearing commotion that his eyes snapped beyond you, prompting him to grab your hand and drag you away again.

“What is the maknae doing?” 

Someone chuckled with a perfect, gorgeous grin often featured on billboards, and someone shorter with rose-blond hair replied, “The scent is goddamn intense.”

His fingers raked the luscious waves, and Hoseok smacked his shoulder, “Right?”

“I think he’s hiding her,” a baritone teased, a boxy grin following suit.

“I’d hide her too,” the tallest shrugged, adjusting his shirt collar.

“Let’s get on with it,” an impatient one voiced, shoving his hands inside his pockets, and Hoseok hurried to massage his shoulders.

“Eager to meet her, huh? Don’t hide it, we all feel the same,” he grinned, despite the other’s stink eyes and chuckles. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t know what you had to prepare for, so you couldn’t exactly relax. You had smoothed your dress pants and washed your face as much as you could without ruining your makeup, and gone to the bathroom at Jungkook’s request.

You had thrown him a look of disbelief, but he insisted, “Come on, just trust me.”

Raking your fingers through your long, wavy hair, you wondered what exactly was coming, but there was nothing like facing it head-on.

Jungkook was waiting for you and waved a white package in his hand, “I hope you like them, couldn’t find much else.”

You chuckled, “And why do I need Whoppers?”

“Because you’re still pale,” he pouted, taking the chance to brush your cheek.

You sighed but took the package, opening it to start eating it one by one. “So, what are we doing?”

“Meeting some important people,” he also reached inside the bag, and you let him.

“And you’re worried I’ll pass out or something?”

“Do I need to remind you that you were drugged?”

He frowned, and you shrugged, “I feel fine. Tired, but fine.” He didn’t seem to buy it, so you popped another chocolate ball in your mouth, “By the way, did you take a look at the agreement?”

His eyes grew so wide, you started laughing.

“How can you even think about that right now?!”

You smirked mischievously, “Trying to get your mind off things… Worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re crazy,” he grumbled, digging his fingers into the Whoppers package still in your hand.

Soon, he gave up with a pout because the package was empty, and you grinned slyly. You raised your other hand, displaying the last precious cookie ball covered in chocolate.

“I saved the last one just for you,” you crooned, bringing it to his mouth. He parted his lips and took it with glistening eyes fixed on you and pink cheeks matching them delightfully. “Now, calm down. Whatever happens, I’m with you.”

He caught your hand before it withdrew and pressed his lips to your soft skin. You couldn’t have known how your words warmed his heart, the only one that had the power to truly calm him. He was certain of who you were to him, of what it all meant, but what if you decided something else? Someone else? It would shatter his heart. But looking at your genuine smile, he knew that wouldn’t happen.

He did want you to be relatively at ease before he dragged you into the fray. It would likely be very intense for you, and he couldn’t imagine the toll it would take, both physically and mentally. Maybe it would be a breeze, seeing how you were comfortable with Hoseok, but who knew. When he imagined what meeting seven of you would feel like, he always concluded his heart would blow.

Upon exiting the elevator and before reaching the main conference room on the last floor, he still couldn’t stop himself from kissing your forehead. You looked at him with curiosity and a small smile, but he just bit his lip and stepped aside. It was now or never.

You didn’t have time to tease Jungkook about his nervousness; in a split second, he pushed the double doors open. A myriad of overwhelming scents hit your senses so hard you swayed on your feet. Only his hand still in yours kept you steady.

If Jungkook’s heady scent was strong, and Hoseok’s was musky, that unruly mix was all of that amplified at least seven times for each alpha in that room. Jungkook closed the door behind you as he guided you in slowly, and you were thankful he was with you. 

That meeting room had a particular half-circle shape with large windows showing the night of Seoul as the backdrop. Yet, it was not the fact that you were entering the room to stand facing the table that rendered you jittery, but the six men sitting, waiting.

From left to right, one was more handsome and imposing than the next. Your eyes passed over each one of them, your olfactory sense working overtime to discern and associate each smell.

From the right to the left, you started by Hoseok, who gave you a reassuring smile. The buttercup scent wasn’t intimidating and instead served to give you confidence. Next to him, a very pale alpha with sharp eyes and long fingers holding his chin observed you with the abyss in his eyes. His woody, strong, aromatic, resinous smell lingered, especially when you tried to clear your throat.

Next to him, the most perfect man you had ever seen smelled sweet and citrusy, and it easily mixed with every other scent in the room. He was intrigued by your presence, but you didn’t feel threatened, if anything, because he kept throwing looks and smirks at Jungkook.

At the center sat the tallest one, with shoulders so bulky you were forced to acknowledge there were people bigger than Jungkook. His scent, akin to almonds, diffused pleasurably in your nose, contrasting greatly with his sharp, near-draconian eyes. You had never seen such astute eyes in anyone but yourself.

The alpha next to him was sitting with his head supported on his hand with a boxy smile that rivaled the beauty of movie stars. In fact, you vaguely recalled having seen him on TV before. His tones were fresh, albeit sweet, like pineapples. 

Lastly, before the empty seat you assumed belonged to Jungkook was a rose-blond man covering the front of his face with wide, shocked eyes set on you. His scent reminded you of honey and spring, easily taking your senses to another time and place if you let it.

“Can you blame her?” The woody-scented alpha rasped, bringing you to the conversation. His voice was so deep it covered you with goosebumps. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It surely is to us,” his fresh scent matched his gorgeous smile.

“It definitely is,” the last one mumbled, uncovering his mouth. He was likely as sweet as he smelled, but your mind didn’t linger on that.

“But this is necessary,” claimed the center one, and you swallowed, straitening your back.

“Indeed, I want this dealt with as soon as possible,” Jungkook said to your side, and your brow furrowed at the fierce look in his eyes. He didn’t seem nervous, but he surely was angry again.

“Maybe we should start by introducing everyone?” Hoseok suggested, smiling. “I sure wanted to know her name as soon as I met her.”

His quip made everyone shift or grunt uncomfortably, but Jungkook nodded, “That will help.”

You glanced at him, feeling the squeeze of his hand, then faced the table.

“I’m Jung Hoseok, as you already know,” he smiled warmly, and you nodded.

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he said quietly, and you instantly recognized him from all the Grammy media coverages.

“Hello, I’m Kim Seokjin,” he gave you a soft head bow, his heart-shaped lips pursing cutely with a smile.

You frowned just a little, wondering more about his name, when the center, and potentially the leader, spoke up, “I’m Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you.”

You suddenly held your breath, realizing just who you were facing.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, but you might know me as V,” he smiled, quirking his eyebrows.

“Woah, are we saying our credentials?” The blond next to him complained, “How are we supposed to compete with that?”

“Jimin—”

“Just wrap it up,” Jungkook asked, his fingers tapping the side of his leg.

“Right, I’m Park Jimin.”

“I thought the Parks were gone,” you said under your breath, and he nodded.

“Not many of us left, and we like to keep to ourselves.”

“All of you… Shouldn’t there be only four families?”

Maybe you should have thought before voicing such a question, but as usual, you felt pretty lost in all things related to Families and Alpha dynamics.

“Officially,” Namjoon acceded, making you feel comfortable that you asked.

“The public believes only four families remain,” Hoseok explained. “The Kim, Min, Jung, and Jeon Families.”

You looked at each one, and Jin waved his hand, meaning he was the Kim Alpha.

“But in reality, despite a few obstacles to be recognized, the other lines exist,” Namjoon continued, motioning the whole room with a wave.

“Recognized?”

You wondered, and Taehyung grinned, “Some of us descend from bastard lines.”

“Or from non-approved matings sort of lost in time,” Jimin added with a shrug.

“What matters is that we’re all the living Family representatives by blood,” Yoongi established, dark, unsettling eyes fixed on you.

“Now the real question is how you are not in the Omega registry,” Jin mused, rubbing his chin.

You raised an eyebrow, “Is that really that surprising considering there are three Families with living descendants that are also not registered?”

Jin’s eyebrows jumped, and you heard Jungkook hide a chuckle; unbeknownst to you, you had just caused a ripple.

“Seriously?” Jin asked with incredulity. “She’s his. I don’t need to hear anything about it anymore,” he scoffed playfully.

“It’s not forbidden to match Omegas not in the registry with a ruling Alpha, so let’s just get on with it,” Yoongi agreed.

“Wait, we are not here to approve it,” Namjoon argued, glancing at Jungkook. “We’re here to pass judgement on a crime.”

“A crime?” Jimin raised his eyebrow.

“You mean that stupid agreement you have with the Han family?” Taehyung voiced, snapping his fingers, “What is it, to marry the— what’s her name?”

“Han Sunhwa,” Hoseok answered, seeing Jungkook’s bitterness was clenching his jaw shut.

“Right, her?” Taehyung scoffed, “That’s a crime, alright.”

“But we can’t do anything to stop that,” Jin pointed out with a purse of his lips. “Your Family approved it.”

“They’ll quickly annul it once they learn what happened tonight,” Jungkook almost spit, finally raising his voice. “What I want is to punish the Hans for daring to go this far.”

“What did they do?” Jimin asked, glancing at you before looking back at Jungkook. Just then, you knew he was not to be messed with and understood why you were standing there.

Jungkook was waiting for that moment and tightened his grip around your hand, “My Family had hunters searching Busan for omegas, and they found her.” He glanced at you, and there was an apology in the glint of his eyes. “I didn’t even know they were still searching. With the marriage contract and all, I never thought they’d do it, but she was brought to me.” He couldn’t stop looking at you, and every other alpha in that room understood why. “I should have realized the Hans would be an issue,” he admitted, finally facing the others. “At first, Sunhwa wanted to get rid of her, saying she was a fake.”

Five scoffs were heard, along with one, “Ridiculous.”

“Then she stormed my apartment and caused a scene, which was completely inappropriate, but I decided not to say anything. My father is currently overseas, but once he returns, he’ll see to annul the contract and compensate them, so I thought I could just let it go,” he heaved a deep breath, feeling stupid with his own admission. “But tonight, they have fucking done it. They hijacked her car, drugged her, and took her to give her away to Hoseok like a fucking offering.”

Everyone turned to Hoseok, who nodded.

“And I know it’s them because I called the number that made the offer on hyung’s phone. And wouldn’t you know it, it was Sunhwa’s older brother telling Hoseok to fucking enjoy her—”

The bile rising in his throat choked him as he squeezed your hand so tight, you knew the blood flow was cut off.

“Woah, who do they think they are?” Seokjin scoffed.

“The audacity,” Yoongi leaned back into his seat.

“They must think they’re untouchable,” Taehyung mused with a dark tone.

“As though we’re not the ones allowing them to exist,” Jimin added, matching Taehyung with a hint of fury.

“You two found each other,” Hoseok started.

“And you’re meant for each other,” Namjoon finished.

All eyes turned to you, and suddenly, the pressure made gravity almost crush you to the ground. You took a deep breath as you glanced at Jungkook. His lips were a line that almost drew on apprehension, but you weren’t going to deny the truth. That was not why you were silent; it just wasn’t something you wanted to discuss in front of strangers.

You turned to the other alphas and nodded, “I thought you didn’t need to hear anything about it anymore.”

The mood lightened significantly with Jin’s chuckle, and only two people didn’t relax — Jungkook next to you, and Jimin.

“The Han family needs to be punished,” he almost hissed.

“Yeah, can’t have anyone thinking that they can mess with our mates and pretend like nothing happened,” Taehyung supported, holding his chin with his gaze on you.

“Let alone allow them to become elite after such a betrayal,” Hoseok said coldly, and you finally saw how he could be when he was angry.

“They will use this marriage to rule over every other beta family,” Jin pointed out as though it was ludicrous.

“And that’s bad business to begin with, but now we can officially ostracize them,” Yoongi nodded quietly.

They started debating the nitty grits, weighing their options and just how much was enough to set an example and leave Jungkook satisfied, but not an abuse of power.

You stood quietly through it all, feeling slightly off. You agreed no one should go through something like this, omega or not, but everything else was above your pay grade. Effectively, aside from pointing out the legality of an idea Jin threw out once, you stayed quiet, mostly stealing glances at Jungkook. 

You said what you said in front of all the heads of the Families — Jungkook was for you as you were for him. But there was still a lot to talk about. Regardless of what those seven men decided, your heart was another matter, and you were not set on a future; not yet.

[joocomics]

be nice to your favorite ghostface

day 20 — mask kink w/ gaon ⌞⌗ kinktober ⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 ghostface!jiseok x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) wc: 4.3k

summary: the roommate of your best friend's boyfriend hears you gushing over Billy Loomis so he decides to turn one of your dirtiest fantasies into reality

contains: sub!reader, hard dom!jiseok, roleplay, mask kink, (consensual) unprotected sex, knife play, voice kink (jiseok uses voice changer device in the beginning), light fear play, degradation kink, begging, oral sex (m/f), face fucking, name calling (slut/whore), pet names, breath play, choking, dirty talk, overstimulation (f!rec), spit kink

[ kinktober masterlist | general masterlist ]

You shut the front door of your apartment complex and head towards the stairs. You just had dinner with friends, a much needed girls night, and now you're eager to get cosy in your bed with a binge worthy show.

This year you want to celebrate Halloween away from crowds, and the idea of entering your quiet home with all the snacks you bought on your way here has never excited you more.

You make out chatter coming from the upper floor. A group of kids are trick-or-treating and you hurry to hide the plastic bag with the goodies, but you quickly realise you only have the pockets of your jacket, already holding a wallet, your cellphone and a lip balm.

Unfortunately, you'll have to part with some of the candy bars and you just have to accept it.

To your surprise, the children run past you without even acknowledging your existence. They almost push you down the stairs, too excited and overwhelmed to comprehend their surroundings or watch where they're going in their colorful costumes. Their earsplitting hollering fades away as they reach the exit and you - the front door of your home. Except the sounds of your footsteps, the building turns completly silent again.

“Look who’s finally back.” A disturbing voice calls out behind you. “I was waiting for you.”

“Shit!” You yelp, bumping into the wall. “Who the—“

Your startled eyes meet a dark figure in a full Ghostface costume.

He's standing still as he places a finger in front of his hidden face and you obey - you don't utter another word. Instead, you silently observe the slow motions of his one hand holding a small white device.

He’s wearing black gloves just like the real Ghostface, and he changes his voice with the help of that small white device... just like the real Ghostface.

As real as that character can get.

“You’re supposed to scream later on when I rip your chest open, baby.”

The distorted voice sends more chills across your body and you feel yourself shivering in your dress despite the jacket on your shoulders.

“Who… who are you?” You focus your gaze upon the black and white mask in front of you.

Ghostface tilts his head to one side; you can’t tell if he’s picking his next words or if he’s offended that you don’t recognise his true identity.

With no rush in his actions he lifts the device again, asking:

“Who do you want me to be?”

His twisted tone comes out calm, arousing your curiosity with each question.

“Jooyeon, if this is one of your pranks again, I…”

“Jooyeon is not here.” The fearsome figure cuts you off. This time his words echo louder with slight frustration.

His black boots take a step forward, and you make a step back.

“You’re not gonna run away from me, are you Y/N?”

Hearing your name attached to his question brings a certain sense of relief. It’s somebody you know.

Not that it’s impossible for this to be a complete stranger who’s been stalking you for months and has finally decided to play his sick tricks on you. With social media nowadays…

He continues to get closer with the same slow pace and it seems that the fact you stopped moving at all pleases him.

“That’s right, you wouldn’t dare.” At once he stops, keeping the white device close to his face. “Hot and smart, I like it.”

He notices you’re concentrating on his silhouette. Your back is pressed against the wall, your eyes - focused and captivating, keep analysing every one of his moves.

He’s never seen you pay such close attention to anything before. When he heard you thirsting over Billy Loomis during your movie night two weekends ago he thought you were talking mainly about the actor, but looks like his friend Jooyeon was right when he said that more and more girls fantasise about being fucked by Ghostface.

You thought you were being very discreet with the way you were leaning towards your best friend in order to describe how badly you needed the killer, but he didn't miss out on even one perky smile of yours. He caught every word that came out of your lips while his eyes, too busy to stare at your streched bare legs that were softly illuminated from the screen, ignored half of the movie.

The more hours you spent at the apartment, the more parts of his mind you began to occupy - the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you sit on his chair and cross your legs... This dirty little fantasy is just one of the many things that comes from you, and now lives permanently in his head - partly becoming a secret of his own too.

He knew he was damned the day he got introduced to you by his roommate.

“What’s that look on your pretty face?” He leans in a bit. “Want to feel my knife?”

While staying still, you let the sharp blade poke the corner of your mouth.

“Actually…” you speak up as the edge lightly traces your jaw. The thrill that shoots through your chest slows down your train of thought and the change in your voice makes you sound like you’re getting dizzy. “Can I feel your mask?”

Of course that's what has your attention.

He stills remembers the moment you said you'd let Skeet Ulrich fuck you with that freakin' mask on. “Didn't expect you to be that freaky,” he told you quietly, letting you know that he heard your confession. It seemed like you didn't really mind it that out of everyone there he was the one who caught you though.

Instead of blushing, or denying it, you just shifted to sit even closer to him.

“I know who you are.” Your lips turn up for a quick second as you get a little glimpse of his real dark brown eyes; your fingertips feel the outlines of the mask. “Jiseok.”

“Surprise, Y/N.” Jiseok exclaims with the classic Ghostface intonation.

The familiar smug laughter you’ve heard so many times slips through the mask, echoing in the hallway as you stare at him.

The adrenaline rush elevates in your veins now that you know it's him behind the costume. You haven't seen each other in a while and you try to compose yourself from the excitment you feel over the fact this is the first time you find yourself alone with him.

“Why did you sneak behind my back like that?”

“Oh, don’t tell me I scared you, pretty girl?” He coos, this time in his own deep voice that you've gotten very familiar with, but for some reason still gives you butterflies.

The knife appears in the air again, but this time it's guided towards your neck. The sudden movement makes you wince and Jiseok giggles, because he simply wants to flip your hair over your shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna invite your favorite Ghostface for a drink?” He gestures passionately with knife in hand. “I came all the way here to pray on you.”

“You must be the most chatty Ghostface out there.” You grin as you unlock the door to your apartment. “Come in.”

Without taking off the mask, Jiseok observes around. He’s intrigued, but he’s going to ask for a tour another time.

“Who were you all dolled up in this pretty little dress for?” He asks, looking at your backless dress that’s hugging your ass perfectly. The view causes the excited tilt in his tone to slowly disappear, making his voice sound lower.

“My girlfriends,” you turn around, pleased to hear him being interested in that, “we had dinner together.”

“Where’s your costume? It's Halloween.”

“I’m not really into dressing up.” You reply as you put away your jacket. “Also, it was just a simple dinner to catch up. No partying this year for us.”

“Bummer, I thought you’re gonna be my Sidney tonight.” He gets closer and your ass bumps into the counter. As his eyes eat up the sight of your slightly exposed cleavage, the cold blade in his hand slides up your inner thigh. “Are you a virgin, Y/N?”

“No.”

He taps your skin with the knife a few times before speaking up next.

“Good.” He grins behind the hooded mask. “We can have fun together unless you want me to leave.”

You shake your head not taking your eyes off of him even for a second.

“I think I enjoy your company, Mr. Ghostface,” you say and your heartbeat quickens.

Your lips open wider when you feel three taps between your legs - each comes with a pause before the next, - right onto your panties; you feel a warm sensation spreading beneath them as you breathe deeply.

“You think? He repeats the word you chose with a certain suspicion in his tone. “I can help you make up your mind. You like being scared?”

“Why would I be scared of you?”

And as to prove that you want him your legs spread apart some more. As a result you sense the knife between them changing its direction; now it grazes the warm skin of your thigh again, gently, but sending strong shockwaves through your body.

“You don’t really know me, baby.”

He’s somewhat right about that.

You’ve never been left alone with him until now.

You’ve also never maintained longer conversation than just few messages, because one of you shared a relatable meme on your stories, or, because his roommate shared a funny group picture. Neither of you can deny it though - there's something in the air every time you're in the same room. There's a heady presence of passion and it was just a matter of time for both of you to give yourselves wholly to it.

“Let me get to know you then.” You grab a handful of the black fabric of his costume.

It’s almost as if that's the sign Jiseok has been waiting for.

Before you have time to realise what he could be up to, you hear a ripping noise from below.

“No, Jiseok, no!” You protest. “Don't!” But it’s too late.

The blade cuts through your dress and you watch Jiseok’s hands ripping it off all the way to your stomach.

You loved that dress, but damn was this hot…

“You’re crying over this little dress? You’re practically walking around naked, baby.” He says condescendingly as his palm squeezes your butt cheek before going back to your clothed folds. “You’re lucky that wasn’t your skin.”

“You’re really committed to the role, Jiseok.”

He doesn’t respond to that right away.

Remaining silent, he removes one of his black gloves and tosses it on the counter behind you where he left the knife earlier.

You’re already buzzing with delight before he’s even pulled your panties to the side. When his middle finger slips into your entrance with ease your face heats up - from how nice it feels to be touched by him and from the realisation of how wet you are already.

Just from flirting with him, and you can’t even see his face.

“Seems like you’re pretty into it,” he replies at once, inviting his finger deeper; rubbing against your gummy walls and getting familiar with how tight they are. The way you accept his touch so easily floods his veins with satisfaction. “How does a good girl like you end up fantasising about freaky shit like this?”

You shrug shoulders before a small moan slips from your tongue as adrenaline rush swirls inside you in the rhythm of his bare hand.

“It turns me on.”

Before you know it, Jiseok cuts open the rest of your dress, revealing your boobs in a lace bra which he immediately gets the urge to remove next. After spinning you around, he gets rid of your underwear with one swift cut too.

He slaps your ass firmly as his other hand yanks your head back by gripping the roots of your hair. You whimper from the sudden rough touch and the sound shoots pleasure straight into his core.

“You want me all over you like this?” Jiseok hisses at your ear. His hips press against your naked behind, wanting you to feel the effects you have on him.

“Yeah, I do,” you bite your lip as his spare hand, the one still covered by a black glove, gropes one of your breasts. “I want you a lot…” You mewl, trying to imagine the way his eyes shut from the way you rub your ass against him as an invitation.

“You better be nice to your favorite Ghostface, doll,” he threatens and you can hear the twisted grin in his erotic voice, “you know what happens to girls who don’t behave as they should.”

He smacks your ass one more time and tells you to run to the bedroom.

You’re waiting on your bed when he walks in.

The black robe is gone, but the Ghostface mask is still in tact. He’s in a pair of black jeans with no shirt on and you eat up the sight of his abs on display.

One hand is bare while the other - not. The one hidden by the black glove goes around your throat as you stick out your pink tongue to wet two of his naked fingers.

“Fuck, you’ll look so hot with my dick in your mouth.” He groans as you suck all the way to his knuckles. He loves how you’re constantly staring at him as if you worship him; even after he empties your mouth and slides his hand down your figure. “I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve it, you know that, right, doll?”

You gasp when the same two fingers that you kissed so softly enter you at the same time. Quickly and smoothly, they speed up the pace, causing your head to threaten to fall back, but Jiseok's grip doesn't allow that.

“That means Ghostface is gonna fuck you like a whore.”

Both of you start to notice squelching noises as Jiseok's fingertips continue thrusting as he keeps them deep and curled up at a nice angle. Only until they pull out and lightly slap your thigh.

The sensation arised so quickly and intense that you weren’t aware that you still haven't given an answer. The realisation hits you once the clothed fingers around your neck squeeze for the first time since they got a hold of you.

“Ah, y-yes—“ Your mouth stays open as his grip doesn’t loosen up. “Yes, fuck me however you want,” the corners of your lips curl as you breathe through your mouth, “I'd love to be Ghostface's slut.”

Jiseok chuckles with his usual boyish laughter that always sounds so erotic even behind this mask.

He fills you up again without needing to look down at the way you arch your back, greedy to have him all the way in. He feels you wetting his palm more and more as you start to clench harder around his moving knuckles.

“Desperate, aren’t we?” He smirks as your whines rise higher. In response his fingers aim deeper, - if that's even possible, - rougher to the point your thighs begin to shake soon enough. “Gonna beg for it? Will you fuckin’ beg for my cock?”

Your one hand clasps around his arm, not fighting back any of this, just having the need to hold onto something, as the coming climax makes your mind spiral.

“Yes, yes, y-yes, please, give it to me—” you chant, feeling the rush finally overflow while also stealing your ability to say anything more.

Your breathing wasn’t as restricted as it could have been, but in addition to the sudden explosion of pleasure, it still made you feel a bit woozy.

You fall on your back, but Jiseok speaks out:

“Let me see you then.” He stands up and takes off his jeans in the meantime.

“Please,” kneeling at the centre of the bed you don't waste any time to obey his wish, “please, give me your cock, I want it so bad.”

Jiseok tilts his head; clearly not approving of that attempt. But he likes the way you move closer though, like you're chasing him.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface.” You stop at once and level your face with his crotch. “I don’t want to get punished,” you blink up innocently, making a pause, “or die.”

Your hand crawls up his thigh. His boner is tempting you, it’s so vivid and appealing. Twitching ever so slightly against your palm once you touch it for the first time. Wanting more, you lower your hand and run your tongue against it, really slowly so he can feel the thrill sneaking through the cotton fabric.

“Maybe I'll spare your life if you take it down your throat.” He groans as his hand pushes your face further into his boner. The way you humm softly as his length grinds against your features makes him almost want to throw away the mask so he can kiss you, but he resists. “How does that sound to you?” He lifts your chin up and feels an instant satisfaction once you open your mouth before he’s even asked.

He tugs down the waistband of his underwear and holds the base of his cock as you attach your tongue under his leaking tip. Not only the thrill from feeling you salivating for him spreads warmth underneath his skin, but also your hazed eyes that won't stop gazing up at his masked face.

“Feels nice, baby,” he utters as you suck half of his length slowly with hollowed cheeks and lips sliding steadily. “But you won't save your life if you keep licking like a kitten.”

You breathe in deeply before pushing yourself further, but Jiseok is already placing hands on the sides of your head to help out both of you.

“There you go”, he chuckles before groaning loudly, glancing down to see you motionless and slobbering around him. “This look fits you better.”

His cock glides back before it invades your tight throat again, then again, causing it to produce muffled mewls which vibrate against him delightfully.

Although his moaning can't be heard exactly the way you want, because of the hooded mask and the way his fingers press onto your ears to keep you steady, you can still tell his deep voice sounds very captivating in such intimate state.

The longer he fucks your mouth, the higher his moans elevate until they turn into one drawned out fuck as he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

You sit down while coughing when you notice the swinging string of spit still connecting you to his cock. Jiseok breaks it off by laying on top of you, slowly stroking his slick length to maintain control over the rush.

If it was any other other day, he would probably have you doggy style. But it's not, so he slips into you in a missionary position, but far from a romantic one.

“Fuck, Jiseok—” you whine through hitched breaths. You don't know how every time you moan his name like that his insides swirl from pride and excitement. “God, I'm gonna cum—”

You feel like you're having a fever; like something inside you is about to explode in million pieces. Your thighs are sweating as his strong arms stay locked around your legs that hang over his shoulders.

Every time the head of his dick hits the desired spot as you try to keep blinking up at his mask you tense harder; more eagerly as you lose control over your voice that begins to quiver.

“You sound so pretty for me,” Jiseok mumbles under his breath. He does his best to not slow down the merciless pace of his hips so he can hear you crumble below him all over again. “Where's the magic word, huh? Can't even speak properly anymore, is that it...”

“Shit—“ you squeeze eyes, regaining composure as the knot in your tummy is seconds away from bursting. “Please,” your hands wrap around the sheets in desperation as you whisper, “please, let me cum, n-need it...”

“Gonna cum for Ghostface again, huh slut?”

He laughs after he hears your disjointed answer, but just a moment later, his own groans mix pleasantly with your overwhelmed cries.

He keeps your shaking legs as still as they can be while his eyes don't want to miss a single flinch of your uncontrollable squirming.

It's such a challenge not to cum too as you hold onto him so strongly, but he endures the bittersweet pain, because he wants to have his fun with you for a little bit longer. You've gotten so sensitive, and by the way you smile at him like you're getting high on all of this, he's positive you want to continue too.

“Told you to keep your mouth open for me, doll,” he reminds you with his voice turning more hoarse, more impatient too as he can't wait to fill it up with his arousal.

You part your lips while sensing every second of the way his restless thrusting creates that familiar knot of buzzing pleasure from the start, but way more luxurious and powerful than the previous.

“Let me see that cute tongue.” His hand moves to hug your neck the same moment your wobbly legs drop around his lower body. He wants to apply some force to hear your whimpers break as you cum around him one more time. “Yea, told you to do as I say, baby, didn't I? What if I grab my knife and fuck you with the handle instead? Would you like that?!”

“No,” you manage to respond as your dazed eyes, half-shut, roam around the close view of the unsettling mask, “your dick, p-please—” you were going to say something more than that, but the hand in black restricts more of your oxygen as you reach yet another unbelievable peak.

The moment Jiseok sees your eyes roll back, he lets go of your throat to let you take a needed breath while clenching around him like never before. His hips push into you almost leisurely now with the little amount of force he has left as you come down from the new high.

You’re both panting together; you from several intense orgasms, he - from all the energy he released on you, and from how little he needs in order to cum.

You're still processing it all when out of the blue Jiseok takes off the Ghostface mask and throws it on the floor.

For the first time tonight you see his face and your excited heart skips a beat.

You see his skin glistening from sweat, his black hair falling messily and sticking to his wet forehead. He quickly runs fingers through it to push his bangs away as he settles between your open legs.

Once he locks eyes with you, he doesn’t let go of that contact and neither do you.

His flat tongue licks up your folds slowly, earning a taste of the mixture you created from your own fluids, and you don’t know what was the last straw for your mind to shut off completely - his sparkling gaze lingering on your face or his mouth burying itself further into you. The tip of his tongue sneaks into your stretched entrance that’s still pulsing for him, eager to taste more of your sweet juices.

You moan softly at the gentle motions that toy with your sensitivity seconds before his lips detach.

“Fuck, this pussy just can’t get enough,” he murmurs against your warm flesh before sucking sensually on your swollen clit.

And oh how good his plump lips feel as he tugs on it while humming blissfully from your taste.

Your fingers go into his soft hair and pull more harshly than expected; it causes Jiseok to groan as he’s guiding his tongue through your slickness, slurping whatever he can before spitting it out onto your clit.

“Damn, baby girl, you look like you're out of your mind.” His husky whisper shoots a warm thrill through your core before he moves on his knees, watching in awe how you arch your spine at the sudden presence of his fingers.

He listens to the wet noises filling the room, blending with your heavy panting that's turning quicker as he pumps harder. He noticed which angle makes you louder, and he's fully focused on remaining there.

“I am! Fuck—” your body can't help but squrim out of control as the burning knot starts to pulse dangerously. Jiseok's spare hand presses down your tummy while the one busy with your g-spot maintains its sharp movements. “Jiseok—”

His name follows by a silent gasp and Jiseok glances up, distracted by a light pain for a second - your hand seized his arm and your nails marked his skin with a reddish line from the sudden quick gesture.

The way you cry out at the ceiling makes him instantly get a hold of his twitching cock. His fist twists around it gently as he massages your vulnerable walls till the rush inside you fades slightly.

Once your eyes meet, Jiseok quickens the hand around his length and crawls on top of you till he reaches your chest.

“I'm so thirsty,” you blink up at his hovering figure while your hands slide up his hips. The sounds of his fist are intense and lewd above you meanwhile your voice comes out delicate and tired. “For your cum… I wanna taste it so bad.”

The innocent ring in your tone is Jiseok's final breaking point.

“Give it to me.”

And as he gazes down at the way you stick out your tongue in anticipation, and at the way you tilt your chin up so his cum can freely go down your throat, he feels like he's out of his mind too.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[iliketangerines]

wife wife please 🙏 wife hear me out

okay either johnny finds out you got a CAGE tramp stamp and hits yo shit from the back

OR

climbing liu kang like a tree and he holds you up and SPEARS YOU ON THE MEAT

🫶 runs away

climbing the tower

a/n: @partycatty i wanted to get this out a day earlier but oh well

pairing: liu kang x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), slight dom/sub, hickeys, bite marks, blowjobs, deepthroating, wall sex, public sex (you're in the infirmary where anyone could walk in), slight overstimulation, praise kink, not proofread

you’re not short by any means, being a mediocre average height your entire life meant you had blended in with everyone else

well that, and your natural shapeshifter abilities, but after going through an identity crisis in your ripe teenager years, you usually felt most comfortable in your own skin

however, at the Wu Shi Academy, being average height meant that you were actually short

you wonder what they were feeding the other combatants because Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden all tower over you by several inches

and none of them let you forget it, constantly resting their elbows on your shoulders and making you their counter to rest on

it had led to quite a few bruises, mostly for Johnny and Kung Lao, but even Kenshi and Raiden had their moments where they teased you for your height

the jokes didn’t make you uncomfortable, not your height, with your shapeshifting ability, you could just be taller than them, but you hadn’t ever felt the need to

unless Liu Kang was around

he wasn’t that much taller than any of them, perhaps just by an inch or two, but still, his height, his broad shoulders, and his calm and gentle attitude had you sweating every time he came around you

embarrassing as it was, the way he towered over you always sent all the blood rushing downwards and for your tongue to twist into knots and for your body to feel as hot as burning coals

if Liu Kang ever noticed the slight demeanor change, he didn’t mention it, simply giving you that gentle smile and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

you’re sure that it would be the death of you, the soft but firm words, the gentle tone, the slight rasp in his voice as he gave orders to all of you

every time his hand touched you, you could never help but imagine his fingers touching elsewhere, buried in your hair, gripping onto your thighs, thrusting into your-

you jolt out of your thoughts as Kung Lao roughly elbows you in the side during breakfast, asking what’s got your head so high up in the clouds

scowling at the monk, you slap at his shoulder and pick up your spoon to finish off your breakfast of congee

he winces at the contact and dramatically drapes himself over Raiden, bemoaning about how his closest friend just beat him so viciously and that he would need a kiss to heal it

Raiden rolls his eyes, but the soft smile playing on his lips betrayed his true thoughts as the farmer turned his head to place a gentle kiss upon the monk’s lips

Johnny sighs from across the table, bemoaning just as dramatically as Kung Lao about saving the smooching for the bedroom, and Kung Lao simply flips off the actor before grabbing on tighter to Raiden, determined to put on a show and piss off Johnny as much as possibly

you just roll your eyes at the love sick sight and tip the bowl back, emptying the bowl of its congee, and you excuse yourself from the table just as Kenshi hisses at Johnny to stop being so overreactive

the start of another catfight begins, and you let out a quick huff of hair from your nose, shaking your head and smiling

absolute idiots, but you loved them all nonetheless

as you walk back, you stare at the ground, counting the tiles your feet step on and dodging the cracks in the concrete pavement, and you think back to Liu Kang

you liked Liu Kang, to say the least, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out your own lust when you had first saw him, and your feelings for him only grew stronger the longer you had hung out with him

he was kind, thoughtful, and most of all, so gentle and warm, and you snort at the irony of him being warm and being the god of fire

but still, your thoughts veer back on track as you think about him and you

you’re just a mortal, a human, a human with shapeshifting powers but human nonetheless, and he was a god, almighty and powerful and much more experienced and aged

it wouldn’t do you any good to desire him, to go after him, and you had tried to squash your own feelings for him, using your powers to match his height whenever he came around

a feeble effort to try and mitigate one of the reasons you liked him, but it wasn’t doing much good, not when his voice affected you more than anything or the way he held himself or the way that he was just so understanding and willing to listen and-

you barely manage to sidestep someone in front of you as they come into your field of view, and you snap your head up, shooting up in height as an instinctual reaction at the sight of Liu Kang

he cranes his neck to look at you as your head crashes into the ceiling above, and you let out a small groan and slowly diminish in height as you rub at the top of your head

Liu Kang asks if you are alright, and you wave him off, saying that he had just caught you by surprise

you shrink down to match his height and watch as he slightly quirks his eyebrow at you, wondering why you hadn’t shrunk down to your original height yet

shifting your weight, you say that you walk faster with long legs and that you should return your bowl to the kitchen and get back before Johnny and Kenshi get into a fight

the god lightly chuckles, just a small laugh and one barely audible over the slight breeze in the wind and the background of monks chanting in the background, but you think you’re about to fall over as heat rushes to your cheeks

how was he so attractive even just doing a simple thing

you give him a sheepish smile and hurry off to the kitchens, mumbling that you really have to get going, and you don’t notice his eyes following you as you speed walk away

when you come back to the dining room, Raiden sits next to Kenshi while Kung Lao sits next to Johnny, the actor and swordsman sporting congee on top of their uniforms as thy shoot ugly glances at each other while the farmers try and calm each other down

it seems like today would be a long one

training that day goes just as well as this morning, Johnny and Kenshi refuse to spar with anyone else but each other, leading to Liu Kang having to monitor their matches closely

you haven’t changed back into your normal height, and while you aren’t adverse to using your powers for extended periods of time, your skin was starting to crawl with the need to go back to normal

but still, something instinctual tells you to stay tall, to try and reduce your attraction to the god, and so you focus back on your own spar with Kung Lao

the monk smirks at you and beckons you toward him, and you reciprocate his grin before finally lunging at him

it’s a long match, drawn out and long, and unease prickles underneath your skin as you fight him in your changed height

you were used to fighting while average height, easier to move faster, to land lower blows, and now that you were taller than him, you were struggling

still, in the corner of your eye, you can still spot Liu Kang at the training fields, observing and watching you all

so you stay in your modified height and take the blows from Kung Lao, trying to change your strategy to incorporate your height

the match drags on for a few minutes, and you feel proud of yourself for managing to hold on this long

at least until Kung Lao kicks you onto your back with a particularly powerful blow, and your head smacks against the ground

pain explodes in the back of your head, and you groan, feeling your body twitch and change and morph as it struggles to deal with the pain

you don’t realize you’ve closed your eyes until the blurry figure of Liu Kang appears in your vision, blocking out the harsh sun as he asks if you’re okay

even in pain, your brain still manages to change the position dirty, filling your head with images of him bent over you in a different situation, skin sweaty and hot, hair disheveled and lips kissed swollen

he calls your name, and you let out a meek yes, sounding a bit whinier than you had wanted to, and Liu Kang sighs in relief and brings his hand to your shoulder to help you sit up

it burns your skin, the heat off of his palm, and you hope and pray that he can’t hear how your heart starts beating rapidly or how your face grows flush and sweaty underneath his touch

Liu Kang tells you he's going to bring you to the infirmary, turning his head away to briefly tell one of the monks overseeing that they are now in charge

his hands stay on your body as you stand up, the world still slightly spinning before you, and your head sways as black dots swim at the top of your vision

the god purses his lips and starts to guide you in the direction of the infirmary, his feet keeping pace with your now shorter legs

the longer and longer you walk to the med bay, the more your head clears, and the more you’re aware of his hand on your shoulder

of both of his hands on your shoulder and how you’re, at best, shoulder height now

you meekly try and push your way out of a visit to the health clinic, but he stares down at you with a hard gaze, and your protest dies in your throat as you try and reel in your own lust for him

it gets appreciably harder when he sits you down in the cot and inspects you himself, asking you questions in a low tone of voice as his hands move to you head to inspect for any swollenness

your voice strains to sound normal as you try to answer his question, the pain in the back of your head gone and replaced with the feeling of butterflies whirling inside of your stomach and liquid hot lust dripping down into your body

he hums and finishes his inspection, sighing and saying that you should be more careful, that using your powers for any longer than a few hours was something to be worked on gradually

besides, your strengths lay with your smaller stature, allowing you attacks that none of the other defenders could feasibly do

you nod your head, trying to avoid eye contact, lest he look into your soul and found the depravity hiding within

his brows furrow, and he tells you to look at him and to answer him with words, that he needed to make sure you understand

god take you now because you might actually stain the bed cot with how wet you are at his commanding tone of voice

you take too long to answer Liu Kang, and he gently raises your chin up to look at him, your neck straining upwards to look at his stern eyes and furrowed brows as he await your answer

it catches you by surprise, his hand on your face, and an involuntary whine slips out of you at the casual dominance

perhaps it would’ve been better if you had blacked out earlier because at least you wouldn’t be stuck in this uncomfortable situation

your face burns with embarrassment, mouth slightly parted at the fact that you had just whined, and Liu Kang lifts his eyebrows in slight surprise

his hand doesn’t falter, however,  on your chin, and he cocks his head at you, blinking as you try and sputter out words and excuses or really anything

he shifts in his position, somehow now looming over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out your vision and his thumb slips itself in between your parted lips

damn you and your body because you immediately go limp in his hold, mouth instinctively closing around his finger as you let him just lean over you

a small coy smile plays on his lips, and you’re too focused on trying to snap out of how good this all feels to realize that he figures out why you’ve been avoiding him lately

Liu Kang lets out a gentle huff of air, drawing his thumb out of your lips, but you don’t have any time to whine as he places his large hands on your waist and easily transfers you from the bed cot and into his lap

your thighs spread around his, trapping his legs in between yours, but you feel more expose as he spreads his legs, forcing your own to spread as well

even sitting in his lap, you’re still shorter than him, and he takes full advantage of this fact as he presses one hand into the small of your back to force you into the warmth of his skin as he leans forward, bending your back into a bow-like shape

you can’t think, can barely even breathe as your hands settle onto his shoulders, squeezing at the firm muscle to try and ground yourself into reality

even that grows difficult as he leans his head forward, nose bumping into yours, eyes boring down painfully through you, as if he could hear and see every thoughts, peeling away the layers of your mind to find your dirtiest fantasies about him

Liu Kang breathes out, eyes still focused onto yours, and you look away, turning your head to the side and squirming slightly at just how intimate this all was

he frowns at how you avoid his gaze, and his hand at your back goes to squeeze your thigh while his other cradles the back of your neck, squeezing it like he was scruffing a cat

his chest vibrates as he orders you to look at him, and you can feel something nervous grip onto your heart, squeezing and squeezing as you force your head to turn to look at him

you think you’re going to die because you’re so turned on right now that you can’t even process how Liu Kang clenches his jaw, trying to hold onto the small thread of control over himself

praise falls from his lips, saying that you were so good for following his command, and your hips rut forward of their own volition, desperately seeking for some sort of friction on your aching clit

Liu Kang hums at your neediness, eyes never leaving yours as he squeezes at your waist, and you whine again as you grind against empty air

it’s overwhelming how he surrounds you, the scent of ash and green tea in the air, his eyes boring into your soul, the warmth of his hand on the back of your neck, your thigh

as if the god knows, he leans his head forward to consume you completely, lips moving towards yours, and he pauses, just to let you have a choice to push him away just in case

you surge forward, wanting him to devour you, to completely surround you in his heat, and he groans and leans into you further, arching your back into a strained curve

but the ache of your muscle is negated by how his lips taste you, tongue dragging over your lips, low groans into your mouth that you can barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears

he kisses you like a starving animal, pressing into you further and further, seeking more and more of you until you had nothing more to give and then taking some more

your mind is melting, you’re pretty sure it is, and it doesn’t help when his hand on the back of your neck trails up and threads through your hair, pulling you head back as his lips move to your neck

his lips are soft against the skin of your neck, teasing and soft, leaving fervent kisses along the expanse of it, but you want more and gather what little grasp of your will you have left

you trail one of your hands on his shoulder down and shove it down his pants to grab onto his cock, hand firmly wrapping around it

Liu Kang lets out a loud groan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and it makes you let out a choked sound as you try and give him some modicum of pleasure

his tongue licks over the mark, almost like an apology, but you find it a lie as he moves to another part of your skin and bites down again as you continue to try and stroke him

wriggling in his hold, you manage to let out a whiny plea for you to suck his cock

it gives the god pause, and his lips momentarily stop against your skin before pulling back to stare into your eyes again

he lets out a breath, asking if you were sure, and you squirm in his ironclad grip on you and let out a pitiful yes, voice high-pitched and breathy

Liu Kang hums and slowly, almost mournfully, lessens his hold on you and helps guide you on shaky legs down to your knees and in between his spread thighs

he pulls down his pants, intending on taking them fully off, but you’re too impatient and shuffle forward and grab onto his cock, perhaps feeling a bit intimidated at the size

it didn’t surprise you that he was thick, thicker than anything you had ever seen or practiced on, but still, there was a reason you were an earthrealm defender, you never backed down from a challenge

your other hand grabs onto his thigh for balance as you leans your head forward, tongue dragging against the length of his cock from base to tip

the god draws in a sharp breath and forces his hands to stay at his sides, wanting to see how far you would go before he would push you to your limits

you concentrate on the task before you, trying not to get too distracted with how his broad form looms over you and how absolutely fucking soaked you are at the sight

ignoring your own need, greedy to taste him, you wrap your lips around the head of him, tongue pressing into the slit to taste his pre-cum, and Liu Kang’s hands start to burn through the cloth of the bed cot

if you smell the burning linen, you don’t pay any mind, using one hand to stroke him up and down in controlled strokes while your mouth suckles at the tip

so, maybe you were a lot intimidated actually at the size of him, not his length, no that was only a bit above average

his girth on the other hand

you clench around nothing at the thought of him stretching you out, the slight burn, the addicting pressure, the feeling of fullness

Liu Kang grits his teeth, hand twitching and burning through the bed cit as he tries to not to bury his fingers in your hair and force your head all the way down until your nose touches down to the base of curls

humming slightly, listening to the choked moan of the god, you push forward, bringing the tip of his cock past your lips and bobbing your head up and down with the pace of your hand

slowly but surely, you take him further and further down your mouth, until he’s in your throat, and your lips burn and you’re sure that tears are falling down your face

he’s losing his self-control, heart beating rapidly in his chest at the sight of you so debauched, tears running down your face, eyes slightly glazed over as you focus on sucking his cock, and Liu Kang can’t help it as his hand finally leaves the bed to bury itself in your hair

his hand pushes you down further and further, and you let him take control, mind slowly going blank at how he’s filling every one of your senses

your nose buries itself into his pelvis, and distantly, you can hear him telling you to breathe through your nose, to stay calm, that you were doing so well for him, so good for him

your own hands grip onto his thighs, squeezing and kneading to try and keep yourself here and present, but control is slipping as you breathe in the scent of him

Liu Kang breathes out through his nose, as his hand tightens its grip on your hair as he moves your head up and down, trying to stay in control, trying to stay calm

and then you let out a breathy whine as his hips stutter and hit the back of your throat roughly, and the thin thread snaps as his other hand grips onto your head

it’s sinful, the wet sounds coming from your mouth, the way Liu Kang fucks into your throat, how your eyes stare up at him, teary and hazy as you moan

the sound vibrates through him, and he thinks he’s going to cum just like this, down your throat, despite his eons and eons of experience

but he doesn’t want to paint your face or your throat with his cum, at least not just yet, and he forces himself to pull your mouth off of his cock, missing the feeling of you immediately

you look dazed, wrecked, all from him, lips swollen and covered in your spit, drool hanging down your chin

Liu Kang drags you up into his lap and kisses you, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging his fingers into the plump meat of your thighs as he stands up

he walks forward, his lips never leaving yours as your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in forward, and your back finally meets the wall of the infirmary

the god grinds his cock into your clothed pussy, two layers too much, and he bites back a growl at the obstruction

balancing you on one hand, arm barely straining with effort, he reaches his free hand down in between you and tears at your pants easily, making you gasp

instantly, both of his hands dig into your ass once again and his cock presses up against your swollen and needy clit

after so long without any friction, you gasp and whimper at the contact, trying to push your hips forward to get more

he denies you, relishing how you squirm in his arms and how your whines grow needier and needier with each passing second

when you let out a small plea, your name hanging from his lips like honey and a sweet please melting into the air, he shakes his head

it would be too much for you, he hadn’t had the time to properly stretch you, to prepare you, and he didn’t want to hurt you

Liu Kang promises you another time, and you whine in frustration, pulling away from his lips with a glare

your thighs tighten around his waist as you lift yourself up just enough so that the head of his cock notches against you, and before he can react, you sink down, choking back your own moan

he should lift you up, get you off of him before you hurt yourself, but he can’t find it in himself to take you off, your pussy sucking him in further and further until your hips finds themselves flush with his

you whine, head buried into the crook of his neck, and he breathes out harshly through his nose, straining every fiber of his being to not lift you up and begin fucking into you

it’s a brutal several minutes as you adjust to his size, taking in deep stuttering breaths as he murmurs into your ear to breathe, that you were doing so well for him

his thumbs rub circles into the sides of your skin as you calm down, and then you finally squirm impatiently on his dick, clenching your pussy around him and forcing a groan out of him

you moan, begging him to move, and Liu Kang tightens his grip on your legs and finally starts bouncing you on his cock, knocking any sense that you might have left in your brain

the lewd sounds of your pussy fill the air with your moans and whimpers, and Liu Kang wants to taste your pleasure, your desperation

he brings his lips to yours again, kissing you, swallowing every one of your sweet sounds as he thrusts up into you, trying to angle his hips to hit that one sweet spot

when you yelp into his mouth, stars bursting behind your eyelids and arms tightening around his neck, he smiles against your lips and fucks into the spot, making sure that the fat head of his cock bullies relentlessly into it

you swear you’re being lifted into the heavens, higher than the heavens actually, pleasure singing through every nerve in your body and your orgasm was hurtling towards you faster than you had ever known

Liu Kang finally pulls away, and you’re sure that you look dazed and already fucked out

in the haze of your pleasure, you almost miss him telling you to do something, and you have to let out a pathetic what, interrupted by a pitiful whine as he fucks back into your sweet spot

he tells you to rub your clit, his voice rumbling through you and straight down as you hear a loud squelch

but you comply immediately, craving your release, feeling dizzy by how he surrounds you, and your fingers rub against your clit slowly and lightly

his eyes are transfixed on the sight, the bud swollen and coated in your wetness, and he tells you to pinch it, to be rough

pleasure already overwhelms you, but you listen, body shaking and hand struggling as you overstimulate yourself, pinching and rolling your clit between your fingers

Liu Kang practically purrs, telling you to keep doing that, to keep listening to him and being so good for him, groaning as he feels your pussy pulse around him in tandem with how you play with your clit

you can’t even warn him as you cum on his cock, keening loudly and rubbing at your clit in tight rough circles as you ride your high

the god just shoves his mouth to yours, devouring you completely as you lose yourself, his hips never stopping, never changing as he fucks you through your pleasure

only when you feel the last of your orgasm dribble out does his hips falter, and he groans into your mouth as he cums inside of you, fucking it deeper and deeper inside of you with each slowing thrust

eventually, he stops, his cock still buried inside of you, and he just kisses you, enjoying how you taste him as well, how you grow more gentle with your lips as your body starts to sag from exhaustion

Liu Kang helps you to your feet, smiling internally when you look up at him and ask in a feeble voice if he could carry you

he obliges, because how he could he not, and picks you up, the bend of your knees supported by one arm while his other arm supported your upper back

your arms wrap around his neck once more, and you tuck your head in against his chest, eyes closing slightly as you mumble that you don’t think you can walk anymore

glancing down at the mess you and he had made on the floor, he’s not surprised and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead as he brings you back to your room

he had you in his arms now, and he wasn’t going to let go