#three thought threads excuse it but okay.
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finally reading dance of days (thank you ohiolink and oberlin college <3) but my most consistent takeaway thus far. is oh my god. people who think punk is primarily ideological and not subcultural/musical. are so out of touch.
#three thought threads excuse it but okay.#first as much as dc punk was not political for much of its history (revolution summer/positive force nonwithstanding im talking oldschool)#i do think the structure of diy and creating an alternative subculture economy is more radical than. making an antireagan song lmao.#even if i think the result was a bit of a failure. the intention was significant! imagine a world where artists do not have to contort#themselves to majors and can be supported by an alternate network of payment and such. would be nice if the arbitrary ideas#of like 5 dollar shows and zero pr and not fighting for what your worth didnt infest that ideology but whateves#okay then also. what the fuck how did i not know the bad brains homophobia was that bad. anyway.#third thread. hilarious that dc punks were.. hesitant to work with positive force bc of its association with revolutionary communist party#lol lmao even. now that im sufficently deep into these tags i can say what all this made me think of which is that#oh my god mcr is a punk band. well theyre more than a punk band but they unequivically came up in punk. they are based in punk. their first#lbum is a posthardcore record without question. in the context of punk as a MUSICAL SUBGENRE mcr is under that umbrella#more than they are Most Other Things#mcr is punk in the outsider-opposition sense which was as defined as some poltics were for a lot of early bands#and shit like black flag which my chem drew on was not textually very political at all it was a subcultural thing#equal opposite force to The Establishment. charting your own path even if it meant fighting for it#obv though black parade barely qualifies as a punk record it was an evolution for them#(and a really interesting zigzag since many of its influences are 70s rock- the very thing og punk was reacting against!#but which now represented a past oldschool rocknroll (esp with glam))#anyyyway#my posts
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at the count of three â ellie williams.
summary: how do you tell your best friend youâre in love with them? ellie has an answer! just be cool and wait for the right momentâ and the next. and maybe another one, just to be sure. if you get impatient, you can always take a deep breath and count to three! (years, that is)
warnings: slow burn (childhood friends to lovers <3), little bit suggestive but no smut!
notes: born from a piece of dialogue i wrote like, a year ago and completely forgot about but somehow a week later it's 4k words? idk you're welcome or i'm sorry!!! also yes they do spend almost every scene sitting together on a couch but that's what lesbianism is all about...
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ăťă.ăťăâ§ăť. ââââ
ONE!
A movie plays on the TV, a slightly tarnished DVD of an 80âs action flick starring some oily guy and the most beautiful woman youâve ever seenâ Ellie doesn't remember much other than an obnoxiously epic soundtrack and lingering shots that made the plot twist too obvious about 20 minutes in.Â
She's freshly eighteen; youâre ahead only by a couple months. It's a warm Friday night, Joel and your dad in the kitchen putting scraps together for a mildly healthy dinner, Ellie sitting on the very opposite side of the couch from where you are. Itâs hot, she'd said, looking away from your comically insulted face that grew with every scooch she made from your side, a lame excuse to save her from the newly found (and fucking torturous) fluttering that sparks in her stomach whenever she sits too close to you.
From the kitchen comes the sound of a can hitting the floor, followed by Joelâs 'shit!' and then quickly, 'sorry, girls'. You chuckle, turning to Ellie and catching her staring at you. A wrinkle forms between your eyebrows at the same time a pink warmth floods her cheeks. âDude, youâre not even paying attention.â
âI am,â a scoff, her eyes now strictly committed to the screen. âThe noise distracted me,â she adds, knowing it didn't even make her flinch from the careful study of your side profile.
âScaredy catâ ow!â a pillow crashes against your cheek, sudden enough to shock you, too soft to do any real damage. âWhat the fuck?â
Ellie raises her eyebrows and looks at you from the corner of her eyes, a smirk half hidden by her hand. âDonât be rude, you're missing the best scene.â
You throw the pillow back and scoff when she catches it, your lips slightly pursed, the signature sign to tell youâre annoyed. It's almost identical to the replica of that gesture that sits at the end of her last journal entry, an overly dedicated sketch born from a wandering thought. She could make it more accurate, she thinks now, soften the line of your jaw, take the scar on your cheek a little more to the left.
The sound of water splashing from the TV catches her attention and Ellie snaps her head forward (lest she get caught staring again), just as the blonde haired love interest is walking out of a fancy looking swimming pool.
âSheâs hot,â you say, fingers pulling absentmindedly at loose threads on the rip of your jeans. When Ellie doesn't say anything, you turn to look at her, âYou don't think so?â
Her voice comes out a higher pitch than sheâd like. âWhatââ she clears her throat before continuing to mumble, âI don't know, I guess.â
You laugh. âYou guess?âÂ
âYeah, Iâ I don't know, dude, I wasn't thinking about that.â
You watch the nervousness on her face, the gulp that passes her throat, the red under her freckles. Fondness tugs at your chest and your voice softens just slightly, a smile playing on your lips. âOh my God. Ellie, itâs okay,â green eyes find your face and she sees you hesitate for a second before you shrug. âWho cares? It's just me.â
You make it sound easy. It's the most distinct thing Ellie remembers about this moment, how suddenly safety felt like the most obvious thing. TV light on your face, your arm over the back of the couch, the same eyes she's been looking at since she was fourteen. Of course it's okay. Everything else with you is easy, why wouldn't this be the same?
Ellie shifts on the couch, the distance between you turning quickly ridiculousâ offensive, even. Sheâs embarrassed to have let her flusteredness get in the way, but the urge to be closer doesn't feel right either. Everything she does feels like too much, everything she says too intense. âHow long have you known?â she asks.
You tilt your head, less of a question and more of a guidance, âKnown that youâŚâ
Ellie parts her lips, unsure of whether or not sheâs gonna say it or how, trying to will the words to come out. And they do, she remembers it well, because it was the first and maybe the only time she was this direct about it. âThat I like girls.â
The smile on your face is teeth-rotting sweet, but she only gets to bask in it for a second before you widen your eyes and lower your voice to a scandalized whisper. âYou what?â
Ellie rolls her eyes, cheeks burning, âOh, fuck you.â
Your laugh fills up the room and the fluttering in her stomach feels absurd at this point, like she would actually be able to feel those annoying little butterflies flying around if she were to press her hand against her abdomen. âSorry, sorry,â you say, and for a terrifying second Ellie thinks maybe they're loud too, and youâre able to hear them. But then she looks at you and forgets about it, easy easy easy. âItâs really okay. You know that, yeah?â
âYeah,â she says. For once, there's not a glimpse of doubt about it to be found.
You watch another ten minutes of the movie in silence before your dad's head peeks out from the kitchen to call you both to the table for dinner.
Ellie has a habit of eating like it's her last day on earth. When you were both new residents of Jackson, hungry and scared and not at all used to the idea of a full plate of food twice a day, she couldn't help it. And you were the same, hence why your dad thought it would be good for you and Ellie to spend time together, which quickly turned to being around each other basically every minute of every day. But as the weeks passed, you seemed to be learning to adapt faster. A younger Ellie found this frustratingâ especially after that time Joel complimented your table manners.
Youâre just⌠nicer, she remembers saying, a stressed frown on her still childlike face, fiddling with a box of marbles sheâd found under her new bed. She remembers how you pulled one out, your fingers brushing against her own for the first time ever, and held the clear crystal with green stripes next to her eyes, a satisfied smile at a practically perfect match. Youâre nice too, Els, youâd said, shrugging your shoulders, the marble shoved inside your pocket, I think I just lie better.
Until that moment, Ellie had never thought about it that way; the fact that you could be pretending to feel more confident and comfortable than you really are to make yourself safer, to get people to like you. But when she asked, you swore you had never lied to Ellie. She used to drive herself mad thinking about that, a strange, confusing worry gnawing at her chestâ she likes that you don't feel the need to lie, but what does it say about how you see her? Is it that you don't care if she likes you? Or worse, is it that you know that she already does?
You sit in front of her today at the same dinner table, four years later, and watch her practically inhale her bowl of pasta like no time has passed at all. You let out a snort and Ellie wonders if you can see it even now, if her constant thoughts of you are obvious even when she looks this busy.
"What?" she asks, an immediate frown on her face, though she's done you the honor of swallowing her mouthful before speaking.
"You're so gross," you say, chin resting on your palm, tilting your head like you're looking at some thought provoking art piece. Ellie thinks you'll leave it at that, but then you reach over and swipe your thumb over the red spot of sauce next to the corner of her lips, so soft she barely feels it. You watch her frown soften for a second before it becomes even deeper.
Ellie feels like her whole body is exploding with warmth, too hot under the hoodie she's wearing, too pink across her face. It's so obvious, she thinks, it's soâ fuck, pull it together. Her gaze follows your finger as you bring it to your lips and lick off the sauce. âYouâre disgusting,â she retorts lamely, her hand rough when she brushes it over her mouth, lest you notice another stain and she has to watch you do that again.
You are familiarly not deterred by her meanness. Or her attempt at it. "And you eat like a five year old,â you shrug. âI guess we both have our issues."
Ellie catches herself staring at your hands for the rest of the meal, certain that she's never noticed them in the same way before. How much time has she been wasting? You both have your issues, you'd said, but Ellie thinks she has you beat. Yours can't possibly be anywhere near this dangerous.
ââââââ§ď˝Ľďž: *â§ď˝Ľ
TWO!
Someone's knocking on her door. Ellie sniffles and lets out a groan as she gets up from the couch, sore throat, her limbs heavy and tired. She knows it's you because it's always the same three knocks; the first two firm and loud, a pause, and then one tiny one that sounds almost like 'sorry'. Youâre impatient but still painfully afraid to be rudeâ if she loved you a little less, Ellie thinks she would make fun of it a lot more. But alas, she's cursed to smile at it every time.
She opens the door and the breeze that slips in makes her fall immediately into an embarrassing coughing fit. âItâs fine,â she mutters, at the same time youâre saying jesus christ, Ellie. âShit. Iâm okay,â she clears her throat and finally gets a moment to look at you, all pretty and put together in your best shirt and a freshly showered scent, the sun setting behind you like a perfect frame. Ellie prays her lungs don't betray her again and tries to make the brush of her hand over her messy hair look casual instead of desperate.
âWell, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to the party with me for just a few minutes, but⌠Iâm not sure you should be out of bed,â your worried frown is pretty, too. What a cruel fate. âIs Joel home? I can stayââ
âNo, no, youâre good,â Ellie shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest like maybe itâll cover up enough and you won't notice she was wearing the same long sleeve the last time you saw her. âHeâll be here in like, five minutes. Iâll be fine, âm not a baby.â
Youâre both nineteen by this time, Ellie remembers because you wore the same pretty blue shirt that you're wearing now for her birthday, and it was the day she realized her crush was no longer deniable. It's easier to act like nothingâs happening when she feels like she's alone in it, like there's no universe where you could love her like she loves you so she might as well let the fantasy dieâ but then you put on your shirt that's reserved for special occasions just to come over and bring her the cupcake you made, and suddenly Ellie can picture herself with her hands on each side of your waist, pulling you close, saying thank you with her lips brushing against yours before she kisses you. She can see it so clearly that it startles her, changes everything. Her birthday comes with a punch to the gut and a hunger she wants to tell you and only you about.
âYouâre not gonna be bored? I really don't mind staying until he gets home.â
Ellie thinks (dramatically, extremely nineteenâ) that if she lets you take care of her, she might actually die. It felt like she almost did last time you visited, your face serious with concentration as you pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. âYou're warmâ, you said, âdo you feel sweaty?â Ellie stared up at you, eyes glossy and heavy from sleep. âNot reallyâ, her fingers sneaked out from under the blanket to wrap themselves around your forearm, a moment of bravery or delusion, âyour hand feels niceâ. You chuckled, âokay, keep itâ.
Sheâs less feverish today, but not yet recovered from the greedy voice in her head that begs her to keep you close. If you don't go to the party now, she thinks (knows) that sheâll let herself casually talk you into staying the rest of the night. âNah, don't miss your party,â she says. âIâll be okay, Joelâs gonna teach me how to play that old card game.â
You raise your eyebrows. âSo you're gonna argue all night.â
âNoâ what?â Ellie scoffs. âItâll be good, I learn fast.â
âYeah, because you make up your own rules.â
âI have questions about the rules, that's not the same thing.â
âIt is if you cheatââ
âIâm not a cheater!â
You hum, a curious tilt of your head, and Ellie rolls her eyes before the words are even out of your mouth. âNo, I guess youâd have to have a girlfriend for that.â
You watch her run her tongue over her teeth, her shoulder against the door frame. âYou know I could say the same to you, right?â
âToo bad I said it first,â you shrug, pretty smile stretching your lips. âI guess I'll go, then. Iâll come over when it's done so you don't miss me too much.â
Ellie tries to maintain her composure. You know, she thinks, do you know? You must know. You can't knowâ âRight. Also so you can steal my food and crash in my bed, Iâm guessing.â
âWhen youâre all vulnerable and weak? What do you think of me, Ellie?â you frown sadly, a hand over your heart.
âI think I know you,â she says, the corner of her lips lifting just a little, inescapably.
You walk to the gate and turn around as you close the lock, your hands on either side of your mouth as if sheâs miles and miles away. âIâll take the couch!â
âYeah, sure!â Ellie yells back, her voice pretty even when it's hoarse, knowing sheâll hold on for just about ten minutes before she insists you take the bed instead.
Joel stays awake with her until around 10pm, when his yawns become too many to hide and heâs already let Ellie win three games, his smile genuine and wide while she chuckles and pretends she doesnât notice. He leaves her with a tupperware of soup for tomorrowâs lunch and a deck of cards. To teach your friends orâ I don't know, keep on the coffee table, heâd said, make you look cool. Ellieâs not sure you would find a box of cards âcoolâ, but sheâs not above trying.
Ever since she moved out to the garage, sheâs discovered a new type of stress at the notion of having you over. At Joelâs house, all she ever did to prepare for guests was pick up the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor and put her books in a (wobbly) single pile. Now things are different. The garage is small, but it's all hersâ her floor, her living room, her kitchen. She can't have you thinking that she can't take care of things on her own.
She spends the next hour moving things around until finally, two loud knocks. A second passes; Ellie looks at the cards and considers shoving them inside one of the drawers on her desk. By the time the one quiet knock comes, she shrugs and decides to leave them on the coffee table, lest Joel was right and she misses a chance to have you start thinking she's cool and mysterious. âIt's open,â she says from the couch, tiredness soon catching up with her after all that time rearranging things.
The door opens and you come in, quickly closing it behind you, a relieved sigh at the loss of that crisp, cold breeze outside. âDid Joel forget those?â you ask, bent at the waist as you take your shoes off, your chin pointing at the deck, the only thing on the coffee table. Maybe she should've been more subtle with it.
âUh, no,â Ellie scratches the back of her neck, her legs stretched across the couch. âTheyâre a gift.â
She's not sure you hear her over the groan you make as you stretch your arms above your head, her legs moved to the side automatically to make space for you to sit. You fall down with a sigh and both forget about the cardsâ you, distracted by the warm tingly feeling of a couple drinks, and Ellie by the new jacket youâre wearing.
She lets a million different scenarios spin around her head for a couple seconds before she blurts out the question. âWhose is that?â
âWhat?â you turn your head away from the movie playing on the TV.
âThe jacket.â
âOh,â you look down at yourself as if youâve just remembered itâs there. âMaya was leaving too, so she walked here with me. Itâs hers.â
Ellie hums, her back sliding a little further down the couch, legs spread. âStinks like itâs hers.â
You chuckle before you can help it, her animosity ridiculous and charmingâ Ellieâs better with actions than she is with words. âI don't even know what you're talking about,â you shake your head, not quite slurring, but not too far from it either. "She smells like strawberries."
Fuck Maya and her strawberry shampoo. Ellie could get some if she wanted to, maybe if she tradedâ what the fuck is she thinking about? She rolls her shoulders back and pushes the thoughts away, gluing her eyes to the screen. âSure,â she says, less because she agrees and more because she doesn't wanna hear what else you like about Maya. âYou had fun, then?â
âIt was alright. You didn't miss out on too much,â the end of your sentence stretched out by a yawn, you cover your mouth lazily and rest back fully against the couch. âJesse was drunk. They had to stop him from getting up on a table.â
Ellie chuckles. âI don't know, maybe he had something to say. I think I wouldâve let him.â
âThat's what I said,â you smile and let your head fall to the side, your cheek against the cushion. She feels you staring, enables it for a while by acting oblivious, falsely over-invested in some movie she can't remember the title of. She hears you move closer before she feels itâ the shuffle of your clothes, the stupid jacket rubbing against her couch, so easily forgettable by the time your temple falls on her shoulder.
Ellie's about to fall asleep when she hears the little noise you make, something like a sniffle. For a worrying second she thinks she mightâve given you her cold, but then she feels the tip of your nose brush against her shoulder and she realizes youâre trying to breathe her in.Â
âYou always smell nice,â you whisper, half asleep.
Ellie swallows and prays to keep her body completely still, scared sheâll make the wrong move and have you pull away, scared youâll lean closer and be able to hear the fast beating on her chest. She sounds breathy, âYeah?â
âYeah,â you say. âLike fresh rain.â
Slow like the roll of credits playing on the TV, Ellie feels how every muscle in her body settles down, relaxed, contentâ fucking cocky. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and hopes the scent will rub off on the jacket and remind Maya of a cloudy autumn night, rain over her garden.
ââââââ§ď˝Ľďž: *â§ď˝Ľ
THREE!
"Do you think we would've liked each other?" you ask, your legs resting on her lap while she fidgets mindlessly with the ruffled cuff of your socks. Every patrol lately ends the exact same way, a quiet walk home and a joint on Ellieâs couch. "Back when the world was normal?â
Ellie turns to look at you, blinking lazily, a reddish hue over her green. Youâre not sure if she's more tired or high, but either way you're not doing much betterâ everything youâve said during the past hour is the kind of thought you have when you're alone at night and your brain wanders, moments away from falling asleep. It's a meaningless question, but Ellie lets out a soft hum and thinks about it like it's worth considering. You're not sure if anyone youâve met in your whole twenty years of life is as willing to indulge you as she is.
"Yeah," she says decidedly, in the same tone with which one would say duh. "Weâ" a yawn cuts her off, slender hand rubbing one of her eyes. "We would be friends, like, in college."
"I wouldn't be in college.â
Ellie frowns, takes one last inhale and discards the joint to the ashtray on her coffee table. "Why not?"
"'Cause I'm not smart like you," you shrug.
The fold between her eyebrows deepens. "You're smart," she argues, with enough conviction that you almost believe her, insisting, "You are."
"In other ways, sureââ Ellie opens her mouth to interrupt but you get ahead of her, âIâm not trying to talk badly about myself, I just don't think college would be for me.â
Youâve never been the most disciplined. Itâs hard to imagine yourself staying up late to study, taking diligent notes in class. It feels ridiculous.
âIâd be working somewhere, I think. Making coffee for people or something.â
Ellie pauses before she nods, adjusting her daydream to what youâre saying, strangely committed. "Then we would meet there,â she makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, a natural equation. âI'd go get coffee from you."
You chuckle. "You don't even like coffee that much."
Ellie shrugs, soft pink lips curved in a smirk that tells you she's sleepy and serves to warn you of the horror that's about to come out of her mouth.
You groan. âDon'tââ
"Maybe I like the pretty girl that's making it."
âAwful,â you push her shoulder away, barely any force behind it, her giggles swimming comfortably around your head. âNever speak again.â
"Not my best work?" she asks, her fingers wrapping lazily around your shin. Too much, her brain warns, but then she remembers the pad of your finger over the back of her hand last night, the cursive lines with no purpose other than to be touching herâ and it feels right, or like it's not enough. Too much soon turns to coward.
"Possibly your worst.â
She might be going crazy, but lately Ellie feels like youâre looking at her differently. In your eyes there's something gentle, awaiting, a tracing of your eyes over her face that says please. She chews on her lip, her eagerness painful. âWe would like each other,â she doesn't think there's a world where you wouldn't, and if there was⌠"I'd make you like me."
You raise your eyebrows, teasing, "Oh, so like now?"
Her lips part with genuine surprise, more amused than offended. â...I made you, huh?âÂ
You regret the joke as soon as it comes out of your mouth, immediately brought back to your fourteen year old self, lonely and admittedly captivated by the auburn haired girl from next door. Flashes of you rushing to catch up with her, untied laces on your too tight sneakers, Ellie, do you wanna be friends? The sound of pages shuffling and her voice reading in whispers in the dead of night because you asked, can you talk to me until I fall asleep? Infatuated from the beginning, obsessed. Even now, on her couch, after spending a whole day togetherâ do you like me? Would you like me, always?
A pillow crashes against the side of her face, her laugh almost louder than the embarrassed pounding of your heart. You pull your legs from her lap and lie back, fold your arms over your face. âYou're so annoying.â
A lie so obvious it makes Ellie smile. She shifts to crawl closer, one knee on either side of you. âCâmon, I was joking,â she leans forward and you feel her knuckles tap your arm like sheâs knocking on a door. The power to make you shy is still foreign to her, makes her feel drunk, thrilled. She doesn't remember having it before, but of course it was there. In little ways, in daily, simple things. Your eyes always looking for her first in any room, lighting up even after an especially bad pun, tracing her arms when the day becomes too hot to keep her jacket on. You like her, of course. How much time has she been wasting? The breath she lets out feels like it's been waiting to be let go, years spent stuck in her lungs. Ellie wraps her fingers around one of your wrists, her voice sweet, achingly soft. âWant me to tell you why I know Iâd like you?â
You lower your arms just slightly, eyes peering up at her.
âYeah?â she tilts her head.
You nod, arms coming down, unusually quiet.
Ellie grins, victorious. âOkay, but fair warningâ it's worse than the coffee thing.â
You chuckle. âIs it?â
âVery.â
âHm,â you hum, pretending to think about it, distracted by the vision of her practically sitting on top of you. Freckled face framed by the hair that's escaped her usual bun, softly lit by the warmth of the lamp on her desk. âAlright,â you say finally.
It takes Ellie a second to respond, momentarily dazed by the thought of being pretty enough for you to ogle like this. She clears her throat. âYou ready?â
You tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and away from her eyes. âSure.â
Ellie waits for the nerves to come, but even as she parts her lips to speak, they never do. What a kind fate. âI know Iâd like you because nothingâs ever made more sense to meâ Iâve been doing it since I was a kid. I like you enough for a million lifetimes.â
You look at each other, bask in a moment of understanding. Your eyes on her lips, a hand on her waist that pulls her closer. âThat was worse,â you agree.
Ellie moves to rest on her forearms, cages you in, her nose brushing against yours. âI told you.â
She waits, feels herself count once again, a final time, one, twoâ
A hand against the back of her neck brings her in and the quiet noise of her surprise vibrates against your lips, makes her smile into the kiss for just a second before the hunger takes over. Her hips readjusting over yours, knees pressing against your sides, Ellie kisses like it's a need rather than a whim. She takes and takes and swallows every sigh you make like it's a gift, four, five, six seconds of a messy trail of kisses down your neck to say thank you before she resurfaces again.
âLove you,â she breathes out, because suddenly all that talk about âlikeâ feels stupidâ immature, incomparable to what she actually feels for you. âNeed you.â
You moan against her lips and it's her favorite sound in the whole world, immediately, as quick as realizing she would fall in love with you the day she met you. âLove you, Ellie.â
A kiss to your clavicle, your hands pulling at her shirt and her thigh between yours. She makes you say it three more times.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fic#ellie williams fluff#ellie x reader#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams imagine#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams smut#loser!ellie#ellie williams fanfic
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hello đ aaron hotchner drabble request!
anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha
and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!
thank you and your work is amazing!
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631
âYou would think that he would know by now,â Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up.Â
âHeâs a captain?â Spencer asks in genuine amazement.Â
âFor NYPDâs major crime unit,â JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. âHe tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldnât be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.â
Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. âSounds like a charmer.â
âThe bigger question is, does Hotch know?â Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.
âWellâŚâ JJ lets out a nervous laugh. âI kind of hope he doesnât.â
You offer a curt smile in Pembrokeâs direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that heâll somehow get the message. It isnât surprising that he doesnât.Â
âI beat my PR yesterday, you know,â he brags, flexing his muscles. You think youâre about to throw up as he continues, â129. Impressive, right, hun?â
âThe average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,â you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencerâs way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesnât seem to hear you.Â
âYou know, sweets, I donât think you should even be in this job. Youâre far too foxy,â he says with a wink, âYouâd be better in a different job. I mean, women arenât fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.â
You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. âListen, Kenââ
âItâs Keithââ
âKyle,â you amend with a sickly smile. âI do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if youâll excuse meâŚâ
âAw, come on, it was only a joke,â Pembroke says with a laugh. âItâll be fineââ
âThere you are.â
You donât think youâve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaronâs hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched.Â
âDid you need something from my agent, Captain?â He asks lowly.Â
âJust pleasant conversation,â Pembroke responds dismissively.
Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captainâs smug face. âWe have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.â
He doesnât bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesnât say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn.Â
âAre you alright?â He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. âI heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?â
âIâve dealt with worse.â You donât mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.
âThatâs not okay, honey.â Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. âIâll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.â
You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. âI thought you were going to hit him.â
âI thought you wouldâve beat me to it,â he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. âWe shouldnât make this into a habit.â
âTell that to Kimberly.â
âThat isnât even close.â
reblogs are always appreciated!
events page
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#hotch x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x reader fluff#golden : a milestone event#hotch x reader fluff#criminal minds x reader fluff#hotch#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader angst#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds aaron hotchner#thomas gibson x reader#thomas gibson#thomas gibson fluff#thomas gibson x reader fluff
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ErROr
Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader
ăFile welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.ă
-
-
Huming to the soft music playing in the cafe, you gently stir the brew. The smell of fresh bread and sweet syrups always lingering in the air.
You were glad for the calm evening, the morning rush had gone by rather quickly. Each order different than the last, yet you and youe colleuges made it through the first shift.
"Excuse me?" A polite voice pipes up. Giving the costumer your attention, your eyes widen at the familiar heroine hunter.
"Hello again! What can I get you Miss MC?"
You playfully smile, as the brunette beauty grins back at you.
"My usual, please."
"Alright, unicorn hair and a dish rag, comin' up!" You state innocently as her eyes widen. Her laughter lighting on the cafè as you turn away to the coffee cups.
Not seeing her lean her palm against her chin, eyeing the curve of your shoulder blades as stretch a arm up to the higher shelves.
'I wish I was that cup~!' She screamed iternally. This little haven of her's being the few solaces in her stressful life. Bringing out her phone, texting her friend, using every bit of sensabilty to not take photos of you.
-
You swoon openly, heart-eyed and face warm as you recount your feelings. Though, you knew telling the male of who your affections were for wouldn't make him bat an eye, (since he loved MC), it weirded you out at his strange behavior. Eyes slightly cold as his frown deepens into a pout.
You ignore it, knowing you had no chance with the love intrest. (At least you could swoon about the other male leads since they didn't know it was them you were talking about.)
"Hm? You okay?" You pause your rant, eyeing the blonde.
"...No."
"O-oh.." You head slightly lowered, toying with the holding trey. "A-ahm.. I'll just, get your order, Xavier." The friendly tone dying in your throat as you walk away. Frowning, know you shouldn't be pushing your luck. You'd at least hoped to be on friendly terms! You knew he wasn't as cold as he presented himself! But.. That was reserved for the MC only.
While wandering back to the kitchen, the blonde runs his fingers through his locks. Upset for being the cause of loosing your enthusiasm.
Jelousy spiking up quietly in his heart when recalling MC proudly showing off your number in her phone. Or hearing your sweet words of praise directed to someone else.
He'd have to find away to get it.
-
Sitting on the bar-stool, you eye the giant glass shard stuck in your leg. Trying to fake the pain, you were honestly nonchalant at the at the injury.
It couldn't really do damage.
Sweating slightly, you smiled nervously at the doctor.
Zayne carefully lifts your leg close to him, tenderly gripping your skin as he eyes injury.
"Okay... One, two... THREE." He stated, pulling out the glass stuck in your thigh. You blink, nothing, no scream, no blood... Nothing.
"...." The doctor blinks at you in disbelief. Shakily placing the shard down on the bar-counter.
"...Y.. Your body still must be in shock." The male rationalized, fingers digging into the flesh of your leg.
"O-oh... Y-yeah..." You hear the jingle of the cafè's door opening. Alerting the two of you as Zayne's body cages around you.
-
The painter eagerly pushes you down on one of the dressing room chairs. Smirking as MC walks into one the dressing rooms.
"You know... I think this color would look wonderfully on you." He spoke casually, sliding up closer to you. Holding up a shimmering blue dress with bits of jewels threaded into the seam.
You thought it looked really familiar to certain outfit of his-
"Huh.. I don't think it's my size though." You shrug, "the last outfit you handed me was a bit tight. I couldn't even pull the ziper up for the back."
You recall a few moments earlier, when MC eagerly wanted to take a selfie with you in that piece. Rafeyal immediately forwning and trying to push between you. To the point his hands pushing at your back away from the female Hunter.
Not seeing the grin he shot her when he carresed your naked lower spine.
"Though, I really wish you'd acompany me and Miss Bodygaurd to the exhibit."
"Oh? That's really nice of you to offer, but I-... Well.." You let a silly smile overtake your face. Dreamily sighing as you glace away, your heart couldn't take his pout.
"I.. uhm.. Got a date?"
-
Seeing that familiar smirk, you got another case of butterflies. Swallowing down your swooning, you notice a customer calling you over.
Passing by the male, you use all of your will power to ignore him. Eyes shinning with utter affection, you direct those feelings away. Greeting the costumer that called you eagerly.
Feelings still rampanging over your heart, you do your best to pay attention to the order.
Heading back to the counter, your co-worker writes down Sylus order as you start perparing the coffee.
"Excuse me, I'm sorry to add on to my order. But may I have two smaller drinks with the order."
"Of course!" You pipe up, not daring to meet his gaze as you shake the syrup canister.
"Thank you, (Y/N)..."
He sounded out the name cheekily, with you heart fluttering about. You don't see that your name-tag was no longer on your shirt.
Instead, hidden within his coats pockets for safe-keeping.
-
[Hiya! I wrote this as a idea I had awhile ago! It was originally in the concept as a full fledege idea. But I scrapped it, sorry! Enjoy! Thanks for reading, if you wanna know more. Send in a ask!]
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace rafayel#lad zayne#lad sylus#lad xavier#lad rafayel#rafayel#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#sylus x you#zayne x you#zayne x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#lads xavier#xavier x reader#love and deepspace x mc#love and deepspace x you#mc x reader#lads#lads zayne#lads sylus#isekai reader#self aware au#self aware au possibly??#yandere x y/n#x y/n
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ăťâĽăťI'm your puppet
You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.
: ĚĚâ l lawliet x gn!reader
: ĚĚâ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L
: ĚĚâ wc: 1000+
: ĚĚâ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here.Â
L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a âpap papâ sound to echo throughout your room.Â
Heâs relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him.Â
Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldnât be more delighted.Â
It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him.Â
You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you canât discern, before he spots you shyly inching over.Â
L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking âwoulâ âoâ âike oâeâ offering you a vanilla one.Â
âNo itâs okayâ you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. âI was actually wondering how your job is going.â
He continues to violently chew, â âquiâe âell,â he swallows thickly, âwhy do you ask?â
âWell,â you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, âI was just worried if you were stressed. Youâve eaten almost three boxes of those.â
âSugar keeps the brain awake,â he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.
Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. Heâs trying to read you.
âMaybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?â His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when heâs with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good.Â
His voice softens to barely a whisper, âthat would be good,â until he corrects himself âthen I can continue working.â
âIâll help you distress.â
L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pjâs which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. âWhatâs wrong?â
âOh. Nothing, nothing,â but you still remain at the door.
His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. âI mean⌠Well I feel bad now.â
More silence.
You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. âI was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-â
âI would very much like to have sex with you.âÂ
â-I feel like an asshole- wait what?â
âI said I would like to have sex.â
The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and Lâs harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass.Â
The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesnât need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.
Your hoarse voice says ââis too much. Canât take it.â between moans, legs shaking underneath Lâs thighs.
He accentuates each word with a thrust. âYes.â âYou.â âCan.â forcing the bed frame to hit the wall.Â
He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers âbe good for me,â and you cum.
Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around Lâs cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until itâs all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion.Â
He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a âpop,â eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.Â
He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs.Â
âYou did so well for me.â
âWould you say youâre sufficiently relaxed?â
âYes, very relaxed. Thank you.â
He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.
#please let me know if iâve missed any tags#or how to make it more gn if it isnt#also i had no idea how to end this so sorry#l lawliet x reader#l x reader#dn lawliet#lawliet x reader#death note#death note lawliet#death note x reader#death note l lawliet#rita writes#l lawliet smut#bow divider by @/dollywons#mdni divider by @/adornedwithlight
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friendship bracelets
leo valdez x reader â heroes of olympus
[gn!child of demeter reader]
summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. itâs a shame leo canât wear the ones you make him.
warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.
word count: 1.2k
(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so hereâs a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)
ââââââââââââââ
youâd given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie youâd smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. youâd managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.
he thought youâd made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.
âi donât have enough for everyone,â was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. âi wish i could.â
that was good enough for him.
he soon realised, though, that he couldnât wear them.
the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.
they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant youâd given him that you swore heâd be able to keep alive.
âitâs a cactus, leo! you canât kill a cactus.â
he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. youâd even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but heâd known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadnât really helped much.
so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?
oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.
maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.
whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.
leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didnât stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his bodyâs need for food and water.
you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. âleo valdez!â
he looked up from his workbench. âwhat did i do? whatever it was, it wasnât me. i swear.â
âyeah, you didnât do anything. like eat! i didnât see you at breakfast or lunch!â you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. âitâs three oâclock now, so i bought you food.â
âi really have toââ
âeat? yes, you do.â
âno, butââ
âand drink water? that too. thereâs a water bottle in there.â
ây/nââ
âleo, if you donât eat your food iâll break your hands so you canât work anymore and then iâll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.â
he looked up at you, offended. âi hate chicken soup.â
you smiled and leaned forward. âi know. so eat your fucking food.â
he raised his hands in defeat. âokay, fine.â he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. âif it pleases you so.â
âit does, indeed.â
as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leoâs mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that youâd given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: âmeet y/n for campfireâ. there was even a note youâd scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: âdonât forget to eat, dumbass.â Apparently, he hadnât listened to that one.
you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. âyou didnât get everything.â
he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. âwhat are youâ oh!â
he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one youâd made him before, but tidier. youâd clearly gotten better at making them. âitâs beautiful, but, y/n, you know i canâtââ
âyou canât wear them because youâll burn them. i know. put it on.â you smiled knowingly.
he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldnât wear it out of fear.
ânow burn it.â
his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. âwhat?â
âburn it.â
âiâm not gonnaââ
âdo you trust me?â
âsometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i donât, no.â
you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. âleo. burn it. or i will.â
he frowned up at you. âyouâre very scary today.â
âthank you,â you smiled, stepping back. âjust trust me.â
he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothingâhold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. âhow did youâ?â
âtalked to lou ellen. thereâs a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it wonât burn. itâs magic.â you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.
he looked at you in shock and stood up. âyou made a fire resistant bracelet for me?â
you shrugged. âof course, i did. and look!â you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. âi made a better one for me too!â
he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. âthought you didnât have enough to make anymore.â
you shrugged. âmaybe i underestimated myself.â
âmaybe you did.â
for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldnât push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. ânow, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.â
so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldnât help but feel a little warmer than usual.
and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like heâd always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.
but, even if they didnât, he knew heâd fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. heâd stare at his wrist instead. and heâd never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.
#leo valdez#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x you#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#pjo x reader#hoo x reader
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looking through your eyes + six
authors note: i really like how this one came out. hope you guys do too.
i use some psych terminology, so just as a lil glossary: pt=patient, dx=diagnosis, hx =history, fx=functioning status (mental stability, essentially) and hopefully everyone can understand the rest with context clues.
if any cw/twâs are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!
cw/tw: fluff, language, medical report following suicide attempt, discussion of sexual abuse, mention of torture
song inspo: âlooking through your eyesâ by leann rimes
words: 10k (i don't know how to write short chapters, clearly)
The last thing Solana expected to wake up to is a handwritten note left for her in the same journal she deposited on Romanâs bed despite her better judgment. She was filled to the brim with anxiety regarding that bold decision, asking him to do something sheâs certain is miles outside of his comfort zone.
She expected him to ignore her.Â
What she didnât expect was for him to reply.
Reading over his words, Solana struggles with the ease of his acquiescence. He indicated it could be short term, but sheâll take that, because itâs a hell of a lot easier for her to talk to this man if itâs through written word.
And the last part.Â
Thereâs nothing you canât tell me.
Thereâs actually a lot she canât tell him. A lot he can never know. No one can know, but the sentiment behind itâŚ..it has her puzzled. He has her puzzled.Â
Solana grabs the journal and scans the kitchen for a pen when a thought crosses her mind. She bites down on her bottom lip, forever battling with the idea of something vs the actuality of carrying out the plan.
In a plot twist, she sides with the plan and pulls out her phone, searching for Romanâs contact.
She types, deletes, and does so again at least three times before settling on a text that really could have been conjured and sent in seconds vs the solid ten minutes she takes to issue it out.
Solana: Hi. Thank you. Do you think we could text too? I know that writing is my thing, but I can text if thatâs easier for you tooâŚ.thanks.
Solana nearly tosses her cell phone on the large slab that is his granite kitchen island and moves around to figure out what sheâs going to fix for breakfast. The perfect excuse for her to not think about the knots in her stomach at her message. It doesnât stop the overthinking though.
What if sheâs asking too much? Pushing him too far out of his comfort zone? It doesnât take long for her to regret her decision, wishing it was still within the time limits to unsend her message.
And then her phone dings.
Solana nearly drops the egg she was about to crack over the skillet. Swallowing, she places it back in the bowel as her feet slowly carry her to the phone that has now dinged a second time. Her fingers dance against the sides of her pants, stretching and scratching the cotton.Â
Lifting her phone, she unlocks her phone and heads straight to his thread.
Roman: Yes.
Itâs a simple response that makes sense for him and is beneficial for Solana who sighs in relief at his agreement. She stews on how to respond, eventually settling on a simple thank you as well as answering his question. The least she can do.Â
Solana: Thank youâŚ
Solana: And I donât work this weekend.Â
Solana: Can I ask you something?
Solana again starts chewing on her bottom lip as she mentally berates herself for bombarding him with messages when heâs probably in the middle of working.
But even so, that doesnât stop him from replying almost instantly.
Roman: You donât have to ask if you can ask me something, Solana. Just ask.Â
Itâs hard not to imagine the frustration on his face at answering her question while also having to remind her of what heâs already stated at one point or another.Â
Solana: OkayâŚ
Solana: Where are we going?
Sheâs unsure if he will respond and has accepted that he may not, which is okay with her. Heâs already being more responsive than she initially anticipated he would. And Solana is barely able to put the skillet on the fire before her phone is buzzing again.
Roman: Youâll see.
His answer makes her frown. Itâs not what she wanted to hear, but itâs also not a complete disregard or verbal lashing for asking a simple question.
Solana prepares to leave it as is when Romanâs voice is in the back of her mind, nudging and reminding her of his desire for her to communicate with him more.
Nervous fingers type out an expression of said nerves.
Solana: OkayâŚ.surprises just make me nervous.Â
She doesnât have time to put her phone down when those three dots appear, indicating heâs typing.
Roman: Itâs nothing bad.
Roman: I wouldnât lie to you.Â
And for some strange reason, Solana believes that. Roman doesn't seem like a man to lie in general, because heâs too blunt for that.Â
UnlessâŚ.
Unless itâs one of his mind games, because he is notorious for that. Still, she canât find a reason why he would waste his time playing one of those with her.Â
Solana: Okay. Sorry to text you while youâre working.
Roman: Youâre apologizing again.
Roman: And I donât care.Â
Roman: Iâd rather talk to you than listen to the twins bullshit.
Solana tries to not put too much into his words, into him saying that he wants to talk to her. Itâs not that he directly wants to speak to her, more sheâs the lesser of two evils. Nothing to get into her head about.
Solana: Theyâre kinda funnyâŚ.đ
Roman: Youâd feel differently if you had to deal with them all the time.Â
Solana: Fair.
The exchange is so in the moment, back to back, that she doesnât put her phone down again until her last message. She then returns to preparing her breakfast.Â
Solana is frying her eggs, adding in seasoning when her phone dings again. Wiping her hands on her apron, she expects a message from Bayley or even Naomi.
Especially Naomi. She needs to talk to her about what happened, apologize for putting her in what must have been an awkward situation.
Itâs neither of them.
Roman: Howâd you start writing?
Roman continuing or prolonging the conversation isnât something she saw coming. But, the message is right there in white writing against that gray background.
Solana briefly debates how honest to be in her answer, deciding to step a bit out of her comfort zone in offering more than just her usual three to five word responses.Â
Solana: My mom. She spoke English, but she wasnât fluent, so sheâd write letters to me in Spanish, and Iâd have to respond in English so we both could learn.
Solana: My dad wouldnât let her teach or speak it around me and Wes so that was the only way I/she could learn.
He stops replying after that, and Solana feels stupid for being so open, for not just giving him a simple answer with all of the unnecessary verbiage.
And then her phone goes off.
Roman: Not surprising.Â
When he doesnât say anything else, Solana debates on whether to end it there or follow up with another question given that he asked one first. It feels like returning the favor or reciprocating manners.
Hence, she decides on texting him again.Â
Solana: What is that language you speak to the twins sometimes?
Roman: Samoan. Iâm fluent. Italian and English as well.Â
Thatâs not entirely surprising. Roman is obviously a well educated, well rounded man.Â
Roman: Youâre more perceptive than you let off.
Solana: Maybe. But no one ever cares what I have to say or think, so it doesnât make sense to share it.Â
He stops replying after that.
And Solana tries to not think too much about her disappointment, moving around the kitchen to finish fixing breakfast as a distraction.
A poor distraction, because not even twenty minutes later, sheâs ready to check her phone again even if it hasnât made the special sound that makes her belly flutter. However, the sound of the doorbell pulls her from that premature excitement.
Solo comes to meet her in the kitchen informing matter-of-factly, âitâs Naomi and Bayley.âÂ
Solana stills. Thatâs definitely not someone she expected to see so soon. Neither of them.
âInvite them in?â Soloâs voice tinges with borderline irritation, which she can understand.
Cheeks reddening, she apologizes. âYes. Sorry. Ofâof course.â
Solana hears Bayley before she sees her. âDamn. This is how itâs like to live as the Tribal Chief's wife? Maybe shit isnât so bad after all.â The two walking in wearing friendly smiles brings back Solanaâs grin.
âHey there. We wanted to come check on you.â Naomi introduces, the first to ask, âis it okay if we hug you?â
Solana doesnât hesitate as much as she would expect herself to. âYes.âÂ
Naomi also doesnât hesitate and steps forward, hugging Solana in such a sincere way sheâs not sure sheâs experienced in years. Since her mom.Â
And Bayley does the same, maybe even a little tighter.
The three of them sit down at the kitchen island as Bayley asks in a sympathetic tone. âHow you doing, lady?â
âBetter.â Itâs an honest answer, and Solana canât help but think about the additive that itâs largely due to Roman. But, she keeps that part to herself. She looks at Naomi. âIâm so sorryââ
Naomi lifts a manicured finger to silence her. âGirl, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, Iâm sorry I didnât know what was going on. You could have told me too, but I get it must have been hard for you.â
This part had Solana deeply nervous, the part where sheâd have to âfaceâ Naomi after causing such a scene and getting the whole place shut down for an entire day, So, for the woman with the penchant for bold colors that look delightful against her complexion to be so understanding and empathetic, it means a lot to Solana.
It means a lot that Bayley would also even tag along when she wasnât even part of that chaotic ordeal.
âJust know you can tell us anything. Weâve got your back,â Bayley affirms, adding with a smirk. âAnd clearly your big bad husband does too.â
Weâve got your back.
Solana doesnât even know where to begin comprehending and swallowing that.Â
Thankfully, she doesnât have too long to be in her head, because Naomi starts talking again. âThat was wild,â she comments with a shake of her head and then looks at Solana. âOh shit, you probably donât know, do you?â
Solanaâs stomach does the opposite of butterflies, the uncomfortable clenching and twisting that accompanies anxiety. âKnow what?â
Thereâs no delay with the answer.
âTheory and Waller are dead.â Solana wasnât sure what to expect to hear Naomi say, but even if she tried to guess, that would have never been one of her options.
Confusion is painted all over her face. âWhaâwhat?â
Dead.
The two men who just yesterday caused her to breakdown and revert back to her teenage years where dissociation was her coping mechanism, the men whoâd been sexually harassing her with zero regards for her as a human and even more, as Romanâs wifeâŚ.are dead.
It feels almost impossible to be true.Â
Bayley backs up Naomiâs assertion, adding, âyeah, he had their bodies, or what was left, displayed at the Warehouse this morning.â
Chills travel up her spine. âWâwhy?â
Itâa a word aimed towards a lot of the questions Solana has unanswered. Why are they dead? Why did Roman kill or have them killed? Sure, she expected there to be some form of punishment, merely for the simple fact that messing with her was a clear sign of disrespect toward him, which the Tribal Chief would never tolerate. But, for them to be killed, in such a what sounds like a gruesome manner, and their remains to be left for all to see?
Why?
Bayley answers with a shrug of her shoulders. âTo send a message.â
Solana is surprisingly fast with her follow up. âW-what message?â
Naomi is quick with the answer, but in general, she seems to be knowledgeable about a lot of things Bloodline. âYouâre Bloodline now. No one messes with us. And youâre Romanâs wife? Yeah, heâs making sure everyone knows what happens if they even think about fucking with you.â
It lines up, Solana reflecting back on Romanâs departing declaration the night before.
âI told you. No one lays a hand on you. Iâm gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.â
She just never expected such aâŚ.big message.Â
âHonestly, they were fucking creeps anyway.â Solana cannot and does not disagree with the first part of Bayleyâs statement, the second part, however, is iffy for her. âThey got exactly what they deserved.â
Solana neither agrees or disagrees with that.
âIâm thinking we do your training from here for a little while,â Naomi suggests. While her initial response is to apologize for any inconvenience this may cause Naomi, Solana canât deny the fact that just the thought of walking back in that building right now makes her physically ill. âI know Roman got a state of the art gym here and that massive backyard of yalls? This will do just fine.âÂ
âOooh, I gotta see this.â Bayley then asks, âSolana, are you working today?â
âNo, I called out.â Solana needs at least a day to get her mind right, hence taking today off.
Bayley then suggests, âNaomi and I were gonna go shopping. Why donât you come with us?âÂ
It's an interestingly timed question given one of Solanaâs text exchanges with Roman not even an hour ago included him informing her that the stack of envelopes on the kitchen island earlier were her new set of cards, all linked to his accounts.Â
And he made sure to reiterate again that there is no limit. For any of them.
Bayley then decides and declares, slapping her hand on the island. âMatter of fact, weâre not asking. Weâre telling you that youâre going shopping with us.â That is something Solana is familiar with, never being asked, always being told.
Itâs just rare, if ever, itâs something that isn't entirely bad or terrible sheâs being told she needs to do.Â
âIâve been wanting to take you shopping for forever anyway. Because as sweet and great as you are, Solana, you dress like college freshman meets Billie Eilish.â Before Solana can ask what exactly that means, Naomi explains. âSo much neutral and dark colors. And everything is oversized. I can tell youâre kind of insecure about your body, but you literally have no reason to be because you have an amazing shape.â
Solana doesnât say anything, but her hand naturally goes to one of the scars on her arm from that night.Â
Naomi notices this and advises in a gentle voice, âwe all have scars, Solana. Some you can see and others you donât.â Solana has both, and itâs a miserable experience. âThat doesnât mean you have to hide them and be ashamed.âÂ
âNaomi is right.â Bayley agrees, and something tells Solana sheâs going out shopping today whether she wants to or not. âWe are going to help you learn to embrace your curves one better fashionable choice at a time.âÂ
________
Solana can probably count on one hand how many times sheâs gone shopping in person over the past couple years. Maybe longer. She mostly sticks to online shopping when she is in need of a couple new pieces, always sizing way up so she can assure that it fits. More so drapes over her body, but thatâs always been the preference.
Sheâs also never shopped at stores where the price for a single item can be upwards to three to four figures, which apparently isnât the case for Bayley and Naomi.
Cause one of the first items they pick up for her is a single blouse that reads $650.00 on the price tag. Solana nearly faints when she reads that. Thatâs probably the entire cost of her wardrobe put together.Â
Sheâs starting to regret telling them about Roman adding her to his accounts. Naomi especially seemed thrilled at that, and she seems to be the one piling the cart with more and more items. Bayley also offering her fair share of contributions.
All the while Solo keeps a safe but comfortable distance, wearing that infamous stoic expression, Solana canât help but wonder how he must be feeling about this, about having to spend his time watching her while she shops. It canât be enjoyable for him at all. She feels sort of bad.Â
âOh my god, you have to try this on.âÂ
Feeling bad for someone else morphs into feeling bad for herself, to a certain extent, when Solana sees the dress that Naomi is holding up for her.Â
In all interactions, Solana does her best to be polite and kind, to never invite a volatile or mean response. âUmmm, I donâtâI donât think thatâll look good on me.â
It wonât look good for a lot of reasons, the main one being itâs too small. Solana can see the thin sleeved dress is intended to be form-fittingâanother major red flagâbut even with that, itâs obviously a size, or eight, too small.
Naomi makes a sound. âGirl, thatâs just how it looks. It molds to your shape, and with all your curves, I know itâs going to be a killer look.â She then pushes it in Solanaâs direction again. âAt least try it on. You never know unless you try.â
But Solana does know. She knows this dress is going to draw attention to all of her flaws. The rolls, the pudge of her belly, her big arms, and those damn scars. But, she also doesnât want to be rude, so she agrees, disappearing in the dressing room before emerging a couple minutes later, never once checking her reflection before doing so.Â
She walks to where the ladies are waiting, asking with an awkward shrug of her shoulders, âwell?â
Naomi gasps. âHoly shit, that looks amazing on you, Solana!â
âOf course it does. You see that body?â Bayley joins in on gassing her up, adding, âit really does look good, Solana. We wouldn't lie to you.â
Huh. Thatâs the second time today Solana has been told that.Â
Bayley then instructs her to look at her reflection in the full body mirror of the dressing room, a dreaded task but one she makes herself complete.Â
Solana does her best to try to be as neutral and not negative towards her appearance, but itâs hard when she keeps honing in on the scars on her arms, the one on her face, not to mention her weight and how, to her, it just seems too much.Â
Her fatherâs sharp and consistent criticism starts to return to the forefront of her mind when she notices Naomi snap a photo. Turning on her heel, she asks with a level of nervousness, âwâwhat are you doing?âÂ
âHelping you to realize how bad as hell you are.â Naomi says it so casually, so calmly, turning her phone toward Solana. âSee.â
Itâs a thread, a group chat, and along with the picture Naomi just snapped, thereâs an accompanying text.
Naomi: Solana is being stupid and thinks she looks bad in this dress. Please prove me and Bayleyâs point.Â
Solanaâs eyes go wide when she realizes just who is in this group text. Jimmy, Jey, and Roman.Â
Her stomach is twisting all over again. âNaomi, IâI donât thinkââ
Naomiâs phone chimes, and a smile grows on her face as Bayley moves closer to Solana.Â
Naomi starts laughing and then smirks as she flips it so Solana and Bayley can read. âI rest my case.â
Jey: Damn, Soso đ Hell yeah, she look good. Goddamn! đŤ
Jimmy: I GYAT to start coming over to yaâll house more, Uce. đ
Bayley makes a wolf sound, playfully shoving Solana whose cheeks are reddening by the second after reading the surprising response from the twins. She definitely either expected no response or an either kind or unkind disagreement. âWe told you, girl. You look amazing.â Bayley then comments, directing her statement to Naomi. âMan, you and Jimmy definitely have a strong ass relationship, cause Iâd be ready to kick his ass.â
Naomi shrugs, simply responding. âWe trust each other. I know it stops at just looking for him. Same for me.â
Her phone makes a sound, and she reads whatever the latest incoming messages are, instantly rolling her eyes. âRoman is such an ass sometimes.â
Solanaâs ear perks up at the mention of his name as she asks, âwhat did he say?â
Naomi turns her phone again so Solana can read for herself, her stomach twisting with anxiety when she reads his trenchant reply.
Roman: Shut the fuck up.
Roman: Unsend this shit, Naomi. Now.
But before Solana can panic about his response, her phone dings and she pulls it out to see his name on her lockscreen. Instead of delaying the inevitable, she unlocks to read his response, anticipating the worst.
Roman: You look good.
Roman: But you always look good.Â
Solana has to read his text a couple of times before it actually registers. He thinks she looks good. Roman thinks she looks good. Even more, he thinks she always looks good. Solana doesnât know how to take that, even though there really is only one way to take such a message.
Bayley and Naomi being the bit of nosy Nancyâs that they are, sneak a peek at Solanaâs phone and also read his text. Bayley is the first to speak, displaying that knowing dimpled smile. âHa! See. The Tribal Chief himself has spoken.â
Naomi and her share a laugh as Solana finds herself also with a small smile. Roman had told her the night of WarGames that she looked beautiful, and she hadnât really known how to take that either, chalking it up to the face full of makeup and fancy updo.
But this photo Naomi snapped and sent shows her without a lick of makeup on, hair messily pulled back and out of the way. Itâs literally just her in a dress, a dress she normally would never dare to brave, but something Roman apparently thinks she looks good in.
âDoesâŚ..does he really think Iâm beautiful?â Itâs a question she never intended to leave the safe confines of her mind, but itâs a rebel, sneaking its way out and landing on the doorstep of the two women before her.
Bayley, as per usual, is the first to speak. âIs that a serious question? Of course he thinks youâre beautiful, because you are. Youâre absolutely stunning, Solana. You have to see that.â
âMost of the men at your wedding kept commenting on how pretty you are. And your boobs, of course, because men have no couth.â Naomi rolls her eyes but continues. âAnd as someone who has had the displeasure of knowing Roman literally since we were in elementary school, I can tell you that youâre 1000% his type.â
Solana doesnât believe that Naomi has reason to lie to her. Bayley either. And as Naomi has been around the family for so long, her word has to be true. But, Solana has a hard time separating the fact that Roman, who has someone as beautiful and unflawed like Samantha, in the same vein, could think someone like her is beautiful.Â
Samantha is beautiful, and someone he can actually touch.
Because regardless of how he views her, it all comes down to that. Physical intimacy. One of many things that Solana canât give him.
But Samantha can.
Samantha does.
Thatâs why she was in the house that day, doing what Solana should but canât because sheâs too fucked up, too damaged, too broken.Â
Bayley reaches over with a comforting hand, switching to Spanish. âWhatever youâre thinking right now, donât. Youâre beautiful, Solana. Thatâs it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Fuck anyone whoâs ever said different.â
Solana isnât quite sure how to describe how grateful she feels in this moment, to have such support, to have people be so genuinely and sincerely supportive. She hasnât had that in so long, sheâd almost forgotten that it was possible.
Emotion thick, she responds in the same language, âthank you, Bayley.â
âOkay, now thatâs just not fair. I wanna know whatâs going on too.â Naomiâs protest and almost childlike pout makes Solana smile, a nice break from the heavy emotional experience going on in her head.Â
âJust some girls supporting girls shit.â Bayley shrugs and claps her hands together. âOkay, now letâs see what sexy little red pieces we can find for youâŚ.â
________
Texting and writing with Roman on and off for the rest of the week was never on Solanaâs agenda, but itâs exactly whatâs been happening.Â
And she has no idea what to make of it.Â
Every time thereâs a delay with his response, she assumes thatâs it. Thatâs the end of the conversation. Only for her phone to buzz with not only a response but usually a follow up question.
Itâs almost as if he wants to keep the conversation going, but that canât be it. She canât see why heâd want to speak with her.
Even if he literally stated that heâd prefer to talk to her than listen to his cousins bicker. Still, his entire day canât involve their presence. There has to be some separation at one point or another.Â
But even with that, heâs consistent with eventually replying, acknowledging her messages even if the responses come hours after her first one was sent.Â
And for the life of her, Solana cannot find a good or logical reason as to why her stomach flutters with a modicum to medium level of excitement every time her phone dings.Â
Because she thinks itâs another text from Roman.
Because sheâs enjoying speaking with him. Because she seeks out opportunities even while working to check her phone and see if heâs text her. Itâs not traditional communication, and sheâs certain thereâs no way in hell sheâd be able to talk to him this freely, this comfortably if it was verbal.Â
Not a chance.
But in texting, she finds a level of ease that makes it significantly easier to get to know him. And maybe thatâs what it is, she has some level of desire to get to know him more. If this âmarriageâ is to last, whatever that looks like, it feels like she needs to know more about him other than that heâs big, strong, and a killer.
Those traits more than speak for themselves, but thereâs gotta be more, and there is. Like her now knowing he speaks three languages fluently and would like to pick up another someday if he ever has the time. Or that he works out at least twice every day and doesnât feel right if he canât get in at least one workout.
Similarly, Solana finds herself reciprocating his sharing of information, small facts that arenât major but make a smidge of difference. Like her love of books and words. The few shows she enjoys. She especially doesnât understand where that comes from. The sharing on her end. Itâs something similar like her growing relationships with Bayley and Naomi.Â
But thatâs different, so so different, for a variety of reasons. One, theyâre women, and while anxiety is something she struggles with in interactions with all individuals, regardless of sex, itâs much easier with them than men.
And Roman is not the average man, far from it.
He scares her.
Or does he?Â
Solana has been struggling to make sense of the fear that often cripples her and the behavior heâs shown her thus far. They donât add up. Sure, heâs expressed irritation and a level of anger towards her, but both were more than warranted. And even in those moments, there was still a level of control and composure. He didnât scream at her. Didnât belittle her. Didnât hit her.Â
And his words from earlier that week circle back around to the front of her mind.
Even that day at her job.
Heâs made it clear now two times that he has no plans or desire to ever hit her. Initially, that didnât mean anything to Solana, because sheâs never known a man in her life to never beat on her. The second time, it made her start to wonder if he was telling the truth.
And now, in a week of genuine and okay interactions, maybe even good interactions, that wondering of the truth is gradually meshing into believing.
Especially because something tells her Romanâs not a man to lie, not unless heâs playing one of his infamous mind games. And what reason would he have to play a mind game with her of all people?
Sheâs nobody.
But not enough of a nobody for him to end the conversation, which sheâs expected all week but yet to see happen. Even more, a part of Solana feels like heâs also wanting to keep the conversation going, matching her with the questions vs just responding and leaving it as is.Â
And Solana appreciates it a lot, maybe even to the point where sheâs gradually starting to appreciate him.
If she doesnât already.
Itâs why she doesnât mind waking up earlier than she already does to fix breakfast and get ready for work to do something for him that she hopes he views as nice while he gets in his morning workout in the home gym.
Finished and almost too nervous to stay around for his response, she grabs the notebook, leaving a quick message before heading up the stairs to get in at least another hour of sleep as thereâs still leftovers from yesterdayâs breakfast.
Roman,
I noticed you tend to start off your breakfast with a protein shake. I saw how you make it, so I figured Iâd just make it for you. Less for you to do.
Hope that was alright.
Solana
________
Roman didnât plan to text and write Solana as often as he has. It justâŚ..happened.
She was right in that communication does seem smoother and even easier through this channel. Itâs also nice to âhearâ her communicate without all that damn stuttering and stammering. Her texts and letters read so much better than actually listening to her speak aloud.
Not that her voice isnât pleasing to some extent. It is. Soft and almost melodic, minus the fucking stutters.Â
Roman is in the middle of reviewing income spreadsheets when Jimmy walks into his office and
drops a stack of paperwork on top of Romanâs desk. He then plops down in one of two chairs opposite his cousin. âSolanaâs medical records.â
Roman is pleased, thankful to the Wise Man for his promptness regarding his request.
âThere is something you should know though.â
Instantly, Roman is annoyed, because he recognizes that tone of Jimmyâs. The tone that lets Roman know heâs not going to like what heâs about to hear. âWhat?â
âApparently, information is missing.â
âWhat do you mean itâs missing? Find the fucking hospital that has them. I want all of her records.â Romanâs orders were clear as day, and he fucking hates when even with comprehensible issuance, thereâs still a fucking problem.Â
âThatâs all thatâs available. Paul said the records indicate shit was deleted or something. Like cleared out of the system.â Before Roman can express his dissatisfaction and suggestions, Jimmy explains, âHe said he consulted with Pearce to see if he could retrieve the files, but even he couldnât get them. Something about systems changing over time and not being compatible. You know, all that tech shit Pearce be talking.â
Roman was right. As always. Heâs annoyed.
Because he knows exactly who would have had a hand in something like this.
Xavier.
He expresses as such. âIt was Xavier. Son of a bitch probably had it deleted somehow.â Roman knows Miller has hands and ties in the medical community as well as social services, though that power and leverage has definitely dwindled over the years due to Millerâs mounting financial problems. However, around the time Solana was a kid was very much the peak of Millerâs paltry empire.Â
âWhat exactly are you looking for, man?â Jimmy asks, trying to get a read on his cousin, never an easy feat. If at all possible. âIâm not trying to be mean, but itâs obvious Solana been through some shit. You really need to know all of it?â
Itâs a sound question that Roman isnât certain he has the answer for. Knowing just what Solana has been through could be helpful in helping him understand her better, but thereâs also a part of him that doesnât know why heâs even bothering with that. Why does he even need to understand her better?
âI mean, just what happened to her mom could be the reason for a lot of herâŚ.struggles.â
âThatâs part of it.â Romanâs certain of that, but he also knows thereâs more. âHer father and brother were abusive.â
At that, Jimmy appears shocked. âWhat?â His expression quickly turns into a scowl. âThatâs why you had us handle up on oleâ boy? You should have said that was why. Would have broke that bitch left hand too.â
âIâm going to kill them both before all is said and done.â And thatâs a fucking promise, an oath. Their days are numbered. âBut until then, Iâll keep them away from her.â
âThat must piss them the fuck off.â
âExactly.â Beyond making sure they donât fucking touch Solana, Roman recognizes flexing his power and authority by cutting off all contact between them is something Miller and his boy must find infuriating. Theyâve clearly thrived on controlling and torturing Solana, but that shit is over.Â
Solana is Bloodline now.
No one fucking touches her.
âWell.â Jimmy blows out a big breath and shrugs his shoulders. âI just hope you know what you doing, Big Dog.âÂ
âDonât I always.â Roman mutters, opening the manilla envelope to start going over the files. âJimmy.â
âYeah?â
âHave Naomi continue to do Solanaâs training from the house.â
âCome on, man, my girl is already on that. She said Sosoâs been getting better and better too. â Jimmy answers, explaining, âI think she and Bey should be over there right about now anyway. Feels like they always over there these days.â
Roman wouldnât entirely disagree. He gets regular updates from security regarding any and all happenings at his home, which includes a list of visitors, and Naomi and Bayley have been consistent on that list.Â
Roman also understands now why Solana hasnât replied to his latest text.
Not that it bothers him. A lot, at least. He has shit to do anyway.Â
A couple minutes later, Jimmy leaves, and Roman is left alone to venture into the next task on his to-do list.Â
As expected, Solanaâs medical records consist of a lot of emergency visits for accidents. Sprains. Broken bones. Fractures. Endless bruising, hematomas even. The visits eventually die down, but Roman suspects itâs not because the abuse stopped or paused. More likely they stopped taking her and she tended to her wounds herself.
But, the largest section of her records is the most telling.
Subjective: PT is a 16 y/o mixed race female currently admitted following SI attempt. PT was reportedly found in bathroom by family maid and transported to ER by ambulance where she was formally admitted. PT does not appear fully oriented to person, place, and time. PT offered minimal responses to questions and would only speak when prompted. PT denies auditory and visual hallucinations. PT reports wanting to be with mother who is deceased. PT reports no will to live. PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. PT observed to become teary eyed following this acknowledgment and would not speak on nature of trauma. PT began to cry and moved into fetal position after being asked reasons for attempt. PT was heard repeating the question, âwhy didnât you let me die?â PT became unresponsive after this exchange.
Assessment: PT presents with flat affect and depressed mood. Presents with poor insight and impulse control. PTâs wrists medically wrapped. Faded scars and bruises observed on PTâs arms, legs and partially faded bruise on left eye. PT also has scars on both arms and face, reportedly from knife attack during childhood.
Objective: PT does not appear stable enough to be released from care. Fx is severely impaired. I suspect a long history of complex trauma, confirmed sexual abuse, and suspected physical abuse. Medical records from clientâs initial admission indicate ânumerousâ pre-existing cuts on PTâs inner forearms, indicating repeated incidents of self-harm. I deem PT to be an imminent danger to herself and suspect a release would result in another SI attempt.
Plan: I strongly recommend client be transferred to an adolescent residential facility or kept inpatient at hospital where she can be monitored and placed on medication regimen as well as participate in intensive individual and group therapy to assist in mood stabilization.
If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life.Â
Diagnosis: F43.10 Posttraumatic Stress Disorder w/ DissociationÂ
Roman keeps reading over this section of the file, but thereâs one part that stands out the most.
PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma.Â
Thatâs the part that Roman canât seem to move past. Heâs read it all. Every fucking word. And itâs all horrific. But, itâs that one sentence, that one damn sentence that confirms what heâd started to suspect, had gradually started to put the pieces together to see the much larger, darker picture.
Sheâd been touched. He doesnât know to what extent, but regardless of the specific nature, at fucking sixteen years old, sheâd already been violated.
A single swoop of his big arm across the desk sends all of the items once neatly situated sprawled across the cherry wood flooring. Roman stands up and slams his fist down on the table, head down as he tries to calm his suddenly shot nerves.
Livid. Heâs livid.
The Bloodline is a lot of things but that has never and will be one of them. It only took one time for some fucking piece of shit to even suggest the Bloodline enter the world of Human Trafficing to increase their reach and profits even more for everyone to know thatâs where the line in the sand is drawn.
Romanâs never put a fucking bullet in someoneâs head so fast.Â
The same urge he has currently.
An urge thatâs almost instantly lessened by a small amount when his phone lights up and a name appears across his lock screen.
Solana
Eyes shutting, Roman runs his hand over his face and snatches the phone, unlocking it to view her text.
Solana: What time will you be home tonight?
Instantly, Roman feels a lessening of his anger, reading her message, almost hearing said message in her gentle voice. Itâs a distraction but both a reminder of why heâs all upset. Solanaâs softness doesnât equate with the violence sheâs experienced, the violation, the pain. Especially as a fucking child. Roman has never understood and has always been especially infuriated by violence against children. Thereâs wrong and then thereâs immoral.Â
Thatâs beyond immoral.
Roman will never deny heâs committed his fair share of sins, earning a VIP spot in hell when that time finally comes, but that is something he could and will never get behind.
Solana: Just so I know what time to have dinner ready byâŚ..
Her follow up is typical, always explaining what she doesnât have to.Â
Roman gives her the best reply he can muster up at this moment in time.
Roman: Not sure. Donât worry about that. Probably wonât get in until late.
And he truly doesnât know, because going home in this state of anger wonât do her any good. He told her heâd try to be mindful of his temper around her, and this is just that. He doesnât want to scare her.Â
He needs an outlet.
But, here lies the fucking dilemma.Â
Since he was a teenager, Romanâs outlet has always been sex. Heâs the type to fuck away his feelings. Working out also helps, but sex always took the cake, helped out sometimes just a smidge or a shit ton more.Â
And in a different kind of world, heâd do just that working out with the same woman he finds himself infatuated over. His dick stiffens in his pants thinking back on the picture Naomi sent and wisely unsent to his disrespectful ass cousins.Â
But not before he could save it to his camera roll.
Roman has never and will never deny his physical attraction to Solana. She checks every box for him in that category, but sheâs not an option. He canât touch her. He canât touch her because some fucking piece of shit did just that to her when she was essentially a child, and now she canât stand to be touched because of it.
Roman finds himself returning to his previous level of rage.Â
He needs to work this off him.
And he knows just how.
Grabbing his phone and switching from Solanaâs thread to hers, he shoots out a simple text.
Roman: Iâm coming over.
________
True to his word, Roman gets back late after anâŚ..interesting visit to see Samantha. Somewhat worth it, but mostly now just another irritating thing he has to handle. Not that her being upset bothers him in the slightest.
She can fuck off and ride off into the sunset for all he cares.Â
Granted, the non-asshole side of him, more a small section than a side, can understand why she was upset with him.
He just canât find it in him to give a fuck.
What he does find, however, is something else.
Roman steps into the living room and sees none other than Solana sleeping on the sofa. Confused, he quietly moves closer in her direction and sits opposite of her on the sturdy, mahogany wood coffee table.
And he watches her, studies her sleeping expression, wondering if she had another nightmare. The possibility drags him back to his earlier disposition, the reason he didnât allow himself to come back to the mansion at a more reasonable time.
He didnât want to expose her to that. To that side of him.
Without much thought, he reaches for her face, fingers gently caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. She feels so soft, a stark contrast against his roughness.
In more than one area.Â
Heâs not sure if she felt his gesture or, like him, is just a light sleeper because her eyes slowly start fluttering open. He waits for her to become more aware and cognizant, and she does, whispering, âhey.â
He matches her low volume. âHey.â Roman studies her, asking, âyou alright?â
She nods, gradually sitting up, and he tries not to notice how instead of wearing the type of baggy shirts heâs noticed she likes to sleep in, sheâs donning a thin sleeved top that accentuates her chest. âYeah, Iââ She closes her mouth, and he can tell by the way her brows furrow slightly that sheâs trying to figure out how to word whatever she wants to say. âYou seemed off. I justâjust wanted to make sure you were okay, but I guess I fell asleepâŚ.â
Itâs Romanâs turn now to not quite understand or make sense of what heâs hearing, so he asks, still in that subdued voice, âyou waited up for me?â
Roman canât recall the last time anyone cared when and even if he made it home. He doesnât know how to feel about this. At all.
With a sheepish expression, she nods, âtried to, at least.â
âYou didnât have to do that.â And itâs the truth. He doesnât know why she would in the first place anyway. âIt was justâŚ.a long day.â
Solana nods, âI get that.â He also takes note of the fact that sheâs not stammering as much, doesnât seem as jittery as heâs used to seeing her. âI shouldâI guess Iâll go to bed now.â
Roman doesnât say anything, just sits back so she can stand up without him being too in her space. He especially understands now why thatâs such a big thing for her.
But, itâs when she stands that his gaze seems to travel to her inner forearms, faded scars now having an even bleaker meaning as he now has the full story.
Another sentence from her medical report whizzes back to him.
If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life.Â
He should write it. Roman knows this. Knows that sheâd probably respond better and be more comfortable writing, but he also knows it makes him feel almost physically uncomfortable with having to wait to get a response.
Heâs much too impatient for that shit.Â
He needs to say this shit now.
âSolana.â
Sheâs halfway to the staircase and turns around, âyes?â
Romanâs never been one to beat around the bush, so he gets straight to the point. âYou used to cut, right?â
Always perceptive, Roman sees the shock in her face at his question, the unease that brews as she nervously runs her hand along the side of her cardigan pajama pants. âIâyes, butânot sinceâŚ.itâs been a long time.â
He half expected to have to ask her about the last time she actually did it, though he can tell by how faded the scars are that it has been quite some time, so he believes her. Knows sheâs telling the truth.
Still, he needs to make something perfectly clear.
âAny of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I donât care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.â His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what heâs asking of her. âUnderstand?â
Solana looks just as confused as he feels as to why this is suddenly important to him, important that she knows she can come to him if those dark thoughts and urges occur. But still, she agrees, acknowledging in that same small voice.
âI understandâŚ.â
________
The breeder is only about a half hour out from the mansion, allowing for a drive thatâs on the shorter side than what Roman was initially anticipating.
Just like he successfully anticipated Solanaâs nervousness throughout that entire drive. She keeps looking out the window, most likely trying to navigate where theyâre going. And if not for the unexpected but necessary business call he had to take that lasted almost the entirety of the drive, he would have tried to calm her nerves.
Heâs realizing he doesnât like seeing her so on edge.
When they arrive, Roman is the first to exit the SUV, circling around to open the door for her. She offers a nervous smile and steps out, Romanâs eyes darting to her ass, the sway of it in her yoga pants as she moves a bit away, taking in the average two story house in front of them.
She looks back at him, and he redirects his focus to her eyes, big, brown, and just as innocent as the rest of her. âWhereâwhere are we?âÂ
Paul also steps out of the car, almost immediately coughing and waving at some flying insect that whizzed at him. âIn the middle of nowhere.â He then sets his cautious gaze on Roman. âMy Tribal Chief, Iâm not sure if youâre aware, but I have terrible allergiesââ
âI donât care.â Roman cuts him off, speaking to Solana, gesturing with a nod of his head. âCome with me.â
A part of him wonders if sheâll hesitate, freeze up on him, maybe even refuse. But she instead moves closer to him, walking along his side as he leads them up the steps of the porch. He reaches for the doorbell and is almost instantaneously met with the sound of barking. Interestingly enough, one glance down at Solana and he sees a spark of excitement that chips away at her nerves.Â
A couple seconds later, the door opens revealing a middle aged white woman wearing an inauthentic smile. The kind of smile someone forces for a business meeting or possible transaction.
âYou must be Mr. Reigns?â She correctly guesses, eyes then landing on Solana. âAnd you must be the Mrs?â
Roman places his hand on the small of Solanaâs back, noticing how she initially tenses but, surprisingly, relaxes just a few seconds later. âMy wife, Solana.â
Solana offers a small wave and polite hello but nothing more.
âIâm Beverly.â She introduces, but Roman doesnât care. He doesnât need to know shit about her except whatever her price is. She steps aside, motioning for them to come in. âPlease.â He allows Solana to walk in first, followed by himself. When Paul doesnât also follow suit, Roman turns around. âWise Man.â
Paul, complexion starting to become pinkish, politely declines. âIâll just wait hereââ
âWise Man.â
âComing, My Tribal Chief.â
Once all three are inside, Betty or whoever, offers something to drink which all three decline, shortly after which the woman asks, âso, are we looking forââ
âItâs for her.â Roman motions to Solana who looks at him still wholly confused as a teenage girl, who looks like the spitting image of her mother, descends down the stairs. âWhatever she wants.â
Bettyâs eyes light up as she directs the teenager. âHoney, can you take her outside to see the puppies?â
âSure.â The teenâs voice is annoyingly preppy, like nails on the chalkboard, like a fucking cheerleader or something. âFollow me.â
Solana again looks at Roman, as if for guidance, but he only nods, encouraging her to follow. Sheâs still reluctantâhe can see as suchâbut ultimately follows the blonde out the backdoor.Â
As soon as sheâs out the door. Betty starts with the irritating sales pitch, talking to him about the history of Pomeranians, the benefits of that breed, dietary guidelines and other things he couldnât give two shits about. Itâs why he doesnât hesitate to take the business call the minute his phone rings and instead advises Paul to listen to the woman talk.Â
He moves to the front of the house, securing another layer of privacy and doesnât even hesitate to walk right past a wheezing Paul to head out back where Solana is once the call is over.
Roman finds her outside in the spacious yet somehow closed in yard. Sheâs sitting in the grass, legs open as a tiny dog, a puppy, moves back and forth between sitting in Solanaâs lap and running in a circle before coming right back to her. Roman realizes sheâs playing with the freakishly small animal, but beyond that, sheâs smiling.
And laughing.
Roman canât recall the last time, if ever, heâs seen her do the latter of the two. Even her smile is much larger, much more genuine than heâs seen her offer in the short time heâs known her..
âThat one.â The woman, Bonnie, who came outside at one point with Paul, moves toward Roman. âShe wants that one.â
Bonnie steps forward and frowns, slapping on that disingenuous smile heâs learned how to read all too well with years of experience working with people. âOh no, that oneâs not supposed to be out there. My daughter must have forgotten to pull her.â
Roman really does try sometimes with people, but they always end up fucking annoying him one way or another. âShe wants that one.â
The woman stutters. âIâIâm sorry, but that dog is already under contract.â
Rolling his eyes, he asks, surprisingly calmly, not wanting to necessarily cause a scene in front of Solana. âHow much?â
âPardon?â
Roman does his best to hide his irritation at having to repeat himself. âHow much?â
Betty releases a nervous smile, crossing her arms across her badly built body. âIâI canât sell you a dog thatâs already under contract, sir.â
Politics. Itâs all politics. Roman knew the second Bettyâs smile grew as her eyes landed on his Hublot watch that she saw this as a great, unexpected windfall. And sheâs not entirely wrong. âEveryone has a fucking price, lady. Name yours.â
She stutters again. âSir, IâI appreciate the interest, but that dog comes from a champion bloodline. The buyers intend to show her, so theyâre paying a pretty penny.â She throws out casually, as if he canât tell what sheâs trying to do, the deal sheâs trying to see if she can score. âTheyâre paying $10,000ââ
There it is. The sin of greed that gets us all at one point or another.Â
Without second thought or guess, Roman states, âIâll give you $20,000.â
As expected, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head, the expression highlighting excessive crows feet no doubt caused by unnecessary time spent under this scorching sun. â$20,000?â He doesnât even have to counter again. âWell, I suppose I could offer them another puppyââ
âGood.â Roman knew right away ânegotiatingâ with this woman wouldnât take much. Sheâs in it for a clean, high profit, which is fair considering one could say that for all business owners. But, if all else failed, he hadâŚ..other strategies. But those are much messier, and heâd rather just throw a stack of cash her way so they could be on their merry fucking way. âWise Man.â
Paul steps forward, pudgy cheeks reddened and eyes watering. âYes, my Tribal Chief?â
âPay the woman.â
Paul swallows. âBut, myââ
âWise Man.â
Paulâs cheeks redden as he nods and motions to the house. Roman doesnât need to say anything else. âI will handle the sale. Shall we?â
As Roman allows his counsel to handle the closing of the deal, he walks over to Solana who looks over at him with that same smile. He crouches down near her, observing, âshe seems to like you.â And itâs the truth, seeing how the other puppies are content with playing with each other, this one is sticking with Solana.
She looks at Roman, petting the top of its head carefully, looking back down with that happy smile.âThank you for taking meââ
âSheâs yours.âÂ
Her head snaps in his direction, right as the dog climbs into her lap. âWâwhat?â Solana blinks, face painted in plausible confusion. âMâmine?â
Roman chuckles. âItâs certainly not for me.â
âReally?â Roman watches the hairy ass creature stand on its legs, as if demanding her attention. Attention whore ass.
âYes, if you want herââ
âYes,â she answers almost immediately, suddenly. And true to her nature, sheâs already backtracking. âI meanââ
âYou want her, so sheâs yours,â he reiterates his previous statement, but thereâs a tone of finality that lets Solana know heâs not open to a discussion or debate.
Itâs a sure thing.Â
âSheâd be your dog. Not mine.â He clarifies. Solana can tell itâs also his way of telling her heâs not doing shit to help her take care of this dog, which is more than fair since Solana would bet he had no plans to purchase a dog anytime soon.
So why is he?Â
She just has to ask again. âYou donâtâ-you really donât care?â
It feels unreal. Too much like not an option. Not a reality. Why would he allow her a pet? Buy her a pet?Â
He eyes the animal thatâs seemingly already taken so well to Solana. âSheâs so damn small Iâll probably forget sheâs there half the time.â
Thereâs that laugh again, and Roman finds himself with a small smile of his own, not as big, nor as genuine, but a smile nonetheless. But just as quick as itâs there, itâs gone. Clearing his throat, he asks, âwhat are you gonna name her?â
Solana looks down at the puppy in her lap, nestled so comfortably against her stomach, eyes fluttering close like sheâs about to fall asleep. With a soft smile and gentle caress of her coat, she answers. âDulce.â
Romanâs thick brows arch together as he asks, âis that Spanish?â
She nods, glancing over at him just long enough to answer. âIt means sweet.â
He makes a sound. That lines up. For both of them.Â
The dog's eyes then land on him with as much disinterest he feels about it, quickly focusing back on Solana. âI suppose weâll have to get supplies and shit for her.â
Roman doesnât consider himself having a childhood, so he refers to what most call just that as his âformative year.â And during those formative years, he never had a pet, so this is new to him as well, outside of just the common sense parts of owning a dog.
Sheâs petting the sleeping puppy âArenât you busy today?âÂ
Yes. Always. Romanâs to-do list is on subscribe and save, constantly delivering him new shit when heâs still working on the old shit. Itâs just a part of the job though.
âNo,â he answers. âIt can wait.â
________
A couple of stops at different stores to pick up all of the shit Solana needs for Dulce along with getting the first vet appointment scheduled for the puppy takes just under three hours, which still grants Roman plenty of time to head into the office. Not until, though, he makes sure Solana is good to go, good with being left alone with the dog.
He meant it when he said it was her dog and he wouldnât be helping out and shit, but given itâs the first day, he can see how there could be some nerves there.
But, thereâs not. Sheâs good to go, hence his okayness with leaving for a little while to get some work done.
She doesnât text him as much during the day, a noticeable thing that he understands is because sheâs spending time with the dog.Â
But, he does come home for lunch to get in a workout where he finds an entry in the notebook.
Roman,
Thank you so much.Â
I promise Iâll take care of her and keep her out of your way. Paulâs too. Iâll keep her in the room with me when heâs over.
I always wanted a dog, but my dad hates them, and even if he didnât, I was always too scared Wes would do something to it or worseâŚ.just to hurt me. He hates me, if you didnât noticeâŚ.
Solana
Roman doesnât take much, if any time, to reply. Heâd prefer to talk to her in person, but Bayley and Naomi are over, the three women in the backyard playing with the dog. So, he allows her that time, settling for a written response.Â
Solana,
Youâre welcome.Â
Donât worry about Paul. He wonât fucking die from allergies, and if he does, oh well.
I noticed. Itâs why Iâll never leave you alone with him or your shitty father. Ever.
Why does he hate you?
Roman
Solana is partially upset when she realizes she missed Roman coming home for a workout, not that she wanted to bother him, just maybeâŚ.see him. Maybe even talk to him. Possibly tell him thank you again in person vs writing it in the notebook, but after Naomi and Bayley are gone and sheâs fed Dulce her dinner, Solana sees Roman replied, leaving the notebook on her bed this time.
Most likely for privacy.
The first part of his note makes her laugh, even if she doesnât enjoy Paul clearly suffering from his allergies. The second part, however, Solana struggles with.
She doesnât know how honest to be with Roman, doesnât know where she should draw that line in the sand. However, itâs not missed upon her that everything sheâs shared with him, heâs been surprisingly okay with. Never having such a major reaction that it made her second guess her sharing.
And the man just bought her a fucking dog, something sheâs always wanted. For no apparent reason.
MaybeâŚ.maybe she can be a bit more honest, a bit more forthcoming, even if it is a somber truth.
Roman,
I donât want to inconvenience Paul. Thatâs not fair to himâŚ.
Wes blames me for our motherâs murder, says it was my fault.
And heâs not wrong.
She is dead because of me.
Solana
The minute Solana brings the notebook to Romanâs room, she regrets it. She regrets opening up, regrets being so vulnerable with him. Just because he answers her questions and bought her a puppy doesnât mean he gives two shits about her trauma.
Sheâs so tempted to sneak into his room and take the journal back. It keeps her up, makes her toss and turn as Dulce sleeps peacefully in her pink dog bed beside Solanaâs.Â
But, itâs when Solana wakes up at 4am and notices the notebook on her nightstand, her anxiety reaches another level. Instead of avoiding it until morning, she sits up and snatches it, flipping to the page theyâre on.
And her stomach achieves a new level of butterflies when she reads his response.Â
Solana,
Itâs not your fault.
Also, you were wrong.
I care what you have to say and think.
Roman
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Kildare Split Part Three: Bleach
Rafe Cameron x Reader
Chapter 3: Bleach
Note: Hi! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. Here is Chapter Three, it covers the smau basically up until Rafe blocks Topper. Still no answers on that đ
Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio.
Word Count: 5,343
Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.
Chapter Three: Bleach
That didnât go how he planned it. He hurt her inconceivable amounts and itâs not going to be easy to get her to forgive him. He needs to work for it, he knows that. Hearing her say that she meant nothing to him when she meant the world to him hurts more than he could have ever imagined. Heâs so mad at himself for ever saying those same things to her. He doesnât deserve her. He knows that too. Heâs always been selfish when it comes to her though, he needs her back. He needs to figure out how to talk to her first.Â
âLet me get this straight, you told her to listen to your album for what?â
âTo understand what Iâm feeling.â
âRafe, the girl doesnât need to understand what youâre feeling, she needs you to apologize to her.â His dadâs voice comes through the speaker. He was getting ready for bed when Ward called.
âThe album is like an apology.â He tells his dad like itâs obvious.Â
âUnless you have a song in that thing that says âY/N Iâm sorry,â for 3 minutes straight, sheâs not going to hear it as an apology. Sheâs going to take it as an excuse.â
âIâm just so ashamed, I donât know how to approach it.â he stares at the phone screen, a picture of his dad and Wheezie stares back at him.
âI miss you, dad.â
âI miss you too, son. Youâll be home soon and weâll go golfing, how about that?â Rafe smiles softly.Â
His relationship with his dad hasn't always been this good. When he chose music over a ârealâ career, his dad almost disowned him. Y/N had been the one to talk Ward out of it. Giving him a plan that if they didnât make it in two years, she would drag him back by his ear and make him take over the company. They had to work their asses off but it happened, and Ward had accepted it. It had been a long road, they spent a lot of time not speaking to each other, communicating through Sarah. Ward hadnât been to a single show before their first album was released. He remembers seeing Ward walk in next to Sarah and feeling his five-year-old self again, prepared to put on the best show for his dad to finally be proud of him. And he was, at the end of the night he hugged Rafe and told him everything he had ever wanted to hear from him. That he was proud of everything he had accomplished, that he was meant to perform, and that he loved him.Â
And he owed it all to her. It always goes back to her.Â
âThat sounds great, Dad.â
âHave you talked to Sofia about this, you know girls, she might have some insight you donât.â
âI donât think Sofiaâs up to giving me advice about Y/N.
âRafe, this is only to get her back as your friend, correct? You and Sof are good?â Ward asks, concern lacing his voice.
âYeah, of course. Sof and I are great.â Denial. Always in denial, Rafe Cameron.
âOkay well, I wish you luck with all of that. Get some rest. Iâll be out in a couple of weeks.â
âBye Dad, love you,â Ward tells him he loves him too and hangs up.Â
+++
Kiara of all people tells her to listen to his album. As if everyone else whoâs telling her isnât enough.
âHold on, I thought I got you in the divorce?â Kie laughs at her joke.Â
âYou did, but I think you should listen to what he has to say.â
âKie, he hasnât even apologized in person, why should I?â Sheâs playing with the thread thatâs hanging off of the comforter.Â
âBecause heâs always been better at explaining himself in song.â She says matter of factly.
âThis is unbelievable.â Kie groans on the other side of the phone.
âLook, heâs a piece of shit and he was horrible to you. I know that, but god can he write.â
âI know he can. I work with him.âÂ
âY/N.â
âKie.â She mocksÂ
âJust listen.â Sheâs shaking her head and rolling her eyes, glad that Kie canât see her.Â
âOkay, whatever, I don't want to talk about this anymore. What happened between you and jayj?â
âHa! Nope.â She whines, wanting to know the drama between her two friends.
Sarah walks in with Penny in her arms. They had gone for a walk, Y/N citing vocal rest to skip going out in the rain.
âVocal rest but youâre talking on the phone?â Sarah calls her out.
âMy baby!â Sarah drops the small dog on the hotel bed, Penny running into Y/Nâs arms.
âThanks, Sarah.â She pouts at her.Â
âSo what are we talking about?â
âTrying to get Y/N to listen to âAngel.ââ Kieâs voice cuts through the speaker.
âAbsolutely no use. She wonât.â Sarah says. She nods along agreeing with Sarah.Â
Itâs not that she canât listen to the album. She doesnât want to. Why should she care about whatever he said in the album when he canât tell her directly? The last time they talked he didnât say sorry, albeit she didnât let him say sorry with her whole speech she had been internalizing for three years. Even still, if he had just opened with âsorryâ she might have been more inclined to listen to his stupid album. She already knew it was about her, what more could she possibly learn?
So why canât she get the thought of listening to it out of her head? Sheâs alone now, her dog next to her, sleeping tucked between her pillow and her neck. Sarah went back to her room a few hours ago and Y/Nâs been trying to go to sleep to no avail.Â
So she plays the stupid album that she told Rafe to shove up his ass.Â
By the end of the album, sheâs angry again. Itâs great. Of course, it is. Itâs him and heâs amazingly talented. Everything he touches turns to gold and she despises him for it. The chord progressions the tempos, the synths. Everything is amazing. Even the stupid lyrics that she wishes she could hate. How dare he be so talented and make her hate him just a fraction less?
The lyrics bother her. âI bought a house to live in but youâre the home Iâm missin'?â His fault. âI watched the weeks fly by, Iâm not myself when youâre not there.â His fault. Again. âIâm not a sentimental guy, I need you in my life.â Well Rafe Cameron, why do you think sheâs not in your life? Itâs like heâs trying to hide the fact that he completely obliterated her heart and is pretending that she just walked out on him.
Fuck you, Rafe. You donât get to pretend.
+++
She hears Topper in the lobby of the hotel. Heâs most likely the first one down here, waiting for the rest of them to wake up so they can take the car to the arena.Â
She stands off to the side, their manager Ash, handing out their backstage badges. She sees Topper take two from Ash out of the corner of her eye.Â
He extends the badge out to her for her to take and offers her a smile.Â
âThanks.â She tells him.Â
âI know this is probably a long time coming and not the best place to have this conversation but Iâm sorry.â She looks at him eyes wide, she tries to hide her shock, a small frown still visible on her face.
âThanks.â She says again, not knowing how to respond to him.Â
âI know Iâve been a shitty friend. I didnât know how to act when everything went down. I knew about Sofia and I felt like I betrayed you. You were so hurt and I didnât deserve your friendship. I let you isolate yourself and Iâm sorry. I should have done better.â
She feels her eyes welling up. She wonât let herself cry. Not where anyone could see them.
âYeah, you have been shitty.â
âIs it too late for you to forgive me?â She shakes her head, launching herself into his arms. Strangely it feels like coming home. She is finally hugging her best friend again. The guy who used to want to fight anyone who even looked at her wrong.Â
âI missed you.â she breathes into his shoulder.Â
âI missed you too, Iâm sorry.â She lets go of him sniffling. She sees unshed tears in his eyes too.Â
âItâs going to take some time for me to trust you, but Iâll work on it.â
âI will get on my knees, beg, and cry if you need me to.â She laughs
âIâll let you know.â
As soon as the other two arrive, their badges are given to them and they all walk towards the car. She usually opts for sitting in the front ever since everything happened between them. She thinks that this time she can sit next to Topper.Â
âHey, Ash?â She calls for her manager's attention, âMind if you sit in the front this time?â Ash looks at her surprised but nods her head anyway.Â
âOf course, go.â She motions for Y/N to step into the car, Rafe and Barry look at her questioningly from the very back. She smiles at Topper and sits directly next to him, he offers her one of his airpods and she takes it. Heâs listening to something sheâs never heard and she doesnât mind at all. For the first time in a long time, she doesnât feel like the loneliest person in the car.Â
Rafe burns holes into the backs of both their heads. What the fuck is going on?
+++
âSo are you going down there for your anniversary?â He hears Sarah ask. She and Y/N are getting their lunch.Â
âYa, it works out perfectly with the tour ending just in time,â Y/N responds,Â
âSo are you expecting a ring?â His ears perk up at the question, willing everyone around him to shut up so he can hear her answer clearly.Â
âI wouldnât be opposed.â Y/N has a teasing tone to her voice and he feels like throwing up. He gets up from the table where heâs eating with Barry and Topper. His fork clanged against the plate as he stood up and stormed off. He canât eat with the bile already rising in his throat. Whatâs wrong with him?
+++
He notices as Topper and Y/N fool around during their private soundcheck. Theyâre playing off each other, Y/N messing with his guitar as he sings into her microphone. He notices that itâs a little awkward but itâs better than it has been in years. He gives Barry another questioning look and Barry just shrugs. He makes a note to ask Topper what happened.Â
âI canât hear myself in my left ear, I just hear Barryâs excessive screeching,â Y/N speaks into her microphone at one of the sound techs.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry we canât all be professionally trained singers, princess.â Y/N scoffs.Â
âYouâre in a band Barry, maybe learn how to sing.â
âWhy are you being such a bitch right now?â
âHey!â Topper yells turning towards Barry, âcut that shit out.â Barry makes a face at Topper but drops it.Â
âWhat the fuck is going on with you two?â Rafe asks, done with waiting to ask Topper after soundcheck.Â
âJust have her back, man.â
âSince when?â He raises an eyebrow.Â
âSince he apologized, maybe you should learn how to do that.â She purses her lips and instead of being annoyed, he canât stop thinking about how cute she looks.
âI tried to apologize and all you did was yell at me for 10 minutes.â
âYou didnât try to apologize, Rafe! You tried to get me to listen to your album.â
âIf you would have just heard me out.â
âWhat? I would know that youâre so apathetic itâs pathetic but you need me now? Or how about that youâre down on your hands and knees Beggin' me please, baby.â
âYou listened.â He feels a sense of relief overtake him which is quickly washed away by her tone.
âUnder duress.â
âWhat did you think?â
âI think itâs bold to sing songs about me when your girlfriend is ready to marry you.â He wants to deny that any of the songs are about her. It doesnât work like that. Everyone knows. Instead of denying it or calling her conceited for thinking itâs about her, another question rises up and out of his mouth before he can stop it.
âAre you?â
âWhat?â She asks, confused. He wants to keep his mouth shut. Why does he need to know anything, why does he want to hurt his feelings so badly?
âReady to marry him?â Oh, heâs so stupid.
âYeah.â There is no hesitation in her answer and his heart breaks a little.
âGreat.â He says shortly.
âGreat.â She turns away from him and back to her microphone, talking to the tech until he gets the volume in her left ear right. He storms off the stage shoving his guitar into Topperâs chest, narrowly missing Topperâs guitar.Â
+++
âWhatâs your problem?â Theyâre waiting to be called to the stage for their second soundcheck with the fans.Â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âYou have been insufferable all day, more than usual. I can usually ignore you, Iâve been doing it for a really long time but youâre all pouting and grumbling. Whatâs wrong with you?â
âHow could you forgive Topper and not me?â
âI havenât forgiven Topper, but he apologized for everything, itâs more than you have ever done.â
âIâm sorry.â He blurts out.
âRafe. Stop.â She goes to walk away but he grabs her arm, stopping her.Â
âWhat? You beg me to apologize and now you donât want to hear it?â
âI didnât want to beg you for it, I wanted you to apologize because itâs the right thing to do.â
âI know that I havenât been a good friend to you. Iâve been so absent from our friendship. I let people get in the way of us and I self-sabotaged and pushed you away.â
âRafe please.â
âI think that I pushed you away because I couldnât be with you but I couldnât be your friend.â
She holds her breath, waiting for what he says next.Â
âI couldnât be just your friend because I was in love with you.â
âAnd Iâm stupid okay? Iâm the biggest idiot in the entire world for saying the things that I said to you.â He pauses to gauge her reaction. Sheâs looking directly at him, her gaze not faltering.
âYou were never just someone I fucked. You werenât some girl or someone who didnât mean anything to me. You are the girl, you mean everything to me. You always have. And I am sorry. I am so sorry that I ever said those things.â
âWhy did you?â
âI was terrified. Itâs an excuse I know. The way I treated you should have never happened but- I just- I was so scared to ruin our careers and take away what we had been working for since we were practically babies. The work that you put into the band and I was just being so careless with it, I could have ruined everything. I didnât know how to deal with that and being in love with you and high all the time. I couldnât do it.â
âYou got clean right after.âÂ
âI knew that sabotaging us was the first step to me ruining everything else and I needed to make the sacrifice worth it so I got clean.â
âIâm a sacrifice. You sacrificed our friendship to keep the band but if you had just talked to me we could have decided together. We could have made something work.â
âI know. Iâm sorry.â They hear the five-minute to curtain call announcement and Y/N sighs.
âDo you think you could ever forgive me?â He asks her, hopeful.
âI donât know. You hurt me more than anyone ever has.â She shrugs.
âfuck, b- Y/N Iâm so sorry. You have to believe me.â She nods.
âI think I do. I need time. I need to get used to the idea of letting you back into my life before I do.â
âOkay, yeah. What can I do?â He feels hopeful for the first time since he started trying to get her to talk to him.Â
âJust give me space for now. Iâll let you know.â She walks past him towards Topper. Thatâs a good start, he thinks.Â
+++
âBaby!â She yells as she gets off stage, running into Julioâs arms. His flight had been delayed so she didnât get to see him before the show.Â
His arms wrap around her waist as he lifts her off the ground, spinning her around.Â
âWhen did you get here?â She asks him, kissing his lips before he answers.Â
âJust as you started the second song.â He pulls away to answer but buries his head in her neck, kissing her.Â
âThank you for coming. I missed you so much.â She tells him, still not letting go.Â
âAlways.â He pecks her lips again as the rest of the band comes up behind her.Â
âHey, guys.â Julio greets them the best he can with a Y/N-sized necklace still hanging off him.Â
âHey, man!â Topper taps him on the shoulder as he passes by him. Barry mumbles a âheyâ and Rafe just nods, his jaw tight.Â
+++
Julio had only been here for one night and already he knew everything that Rafe had told Y/N, Which is how he found himself sitting alone with the man in the green room.
âY/N told me what you told her last night.â He really doesnât want to have to explain to Y/N why her boyfriend is on the floor bleeding but if he throws the first punch, Rafe is only defending himself.Â
âYeah?â He looks up from his phone and at Julio.
âLook, you hurt her. A lot. To the point where she thought she had no one because of you. She cried herself to sleep every day because of how alone she felt.â Rafeâs stomach churns at his words.
âIâm going to make it up to her.â He puts his phone down next to him.Â
âAnd you better mean it. Donât lead her on. Be honest with her. Do not hurt her again.âÂ
âI wonât.â He assures him.
âGood.â He thinks the conversation is over but Julio speaks up again.
âRafe, I know how you feel about her. You need to back off. I love her. And she loves me. I will be here until she no longer wants me. Please donât get in the way of that.â
âIâm engaged.â
âThat doesnât change the way you look at her. Your heart isnât in it. Respect my relationship and I will respect you.âÂ
âYou donât have anything to worry about. I just want my friend back.â Itâs not like she would take him back anyway. Even if he wanted to.
âOkay.â Cleo and Pope walk in to save him from the awkward silence.Â
âIâm going to head out.â He picks up his phone and stands up from where he was sitting on the couch.
âNice talking to you,â Julio calls.
âYeah, you too.â He all but runs out of the room on a mission to find Sarah.
+++
Sarah Cameron is not one to spread rumours. Sheâs very much the type to wait for confirmation. She blames the circumstances and constant stress sheâs under juggling her brotherâs stupid feelings with Y/Nâs and vice versa.Â
There has been way too much talk about marriage, Sofia finally arrived and all she can talk about is wedding dresses and the caterer and the first dance and Sarah is exhausted. And of course, Rafe is panicking about things he really shouldnât be worried about like âOh is Y/N getting married? Sarah, she said that she was ready.â and Y/N herself teased that she wanted the ring and she wouldnât say no if Julio proposed. So what is Sarah supposed to think when she hears Y/N squeal from her dressing room as she screams âYes! Of course, Iâll marry you.â Sarah is tired.Â
She should have known there wasnât an actual proposal when it happened in the dressing room of all places. She knows Julio, heâs a romantic guy, thinking back on it, thereâs no way he would have proposed like that. Again, Sarahâs tired and sheâs not thinking and she needs to tell someone and the first person she sees. Barry. Bad idea.Â
âJulio just proposed to Y/N and she said yes.â The information spills out of her mouth, it takes Barry a moment to process what she said but once he gets it heâs laughing.Â
âShit. Thatâs going to kill him.â Fuck. Rafe. She hadnât even thought of her brotherâs reaction. She wants to be the one to tell him but heâs out with his trainer. She has to make sure no one tells him before she does.Â
âTopper!â She runs down the hall towards him.
âWhatâs up, why are you like sweating?â She waves him off.
âWhen does Rafe get back?â
âAn hour still.â
âShit.â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âY/N just got engaged and I need to be the one to break the news to him.âÂ
âHoly shit. Good for her. Where is she?â Sarah shakes her head at him.Â
âThatâs not the point, I need you to find out where Rafe is training so I can find him.â
âHeâs probably running laps outside or at a nearby park.â
âDo you have his location?âÂ
âNo, security list.â
âOh my god! I hate that youâre all famous sometimes.â She says through gritted teeth.Â
âI need to find John B. Make sure Rafe doesnât find out!â She says running off down the hall again.Â
âFind out what?â Sofiaâs voice comes from behind him.Â
âJesus, Sofia, be louder next time.â
âSorry. Whatâs going on?â
âOh, nothing. Y/N just got engaged and Sarah doesnât want anyone to know yet.â
âFun! Congratulations to them, thatâs so exciting!â He sees her pull out her phone and walk in the direction of the busses.
âSee you, Top!â
âOn the bus?â He asks her.Â
âYeah.â She gives him a toothy grin.Â
Shit. Topper thinks. Sheâs going to tell Rafe.Â
+++
Kyle had just made him run way too much. Keeping up his stamina was important to perform every night. This time though Kyle really wanted to kill him.Â
âYou hate me, man.â He says opening up his phone. Kyle laughs.Â
âYou did great.â He tells him as they start their walk back to the arena.Â
He has a few notifications from Instagram from friends back home sending him reels and Wheezie tagging him in stories. He swipes out of Instagram and goes on to his Twitter quickly checking to see if the lineup for the show had started already, trying to see which way they took back to the arena without being seen.Â
Something catches his eye as he scrolls past it, he scrolls back up trying to find the pink icon.Â
â@KSUpdates: đđđâ He reads through the other tweets wondering what thatâs all about, were they promoting something he forgot about? He keeps scrolling until he sees someone say that Y/Nâs engaged. He stops where he is, Kyle looking at him questioningly.Â
âYou okay?â His head is spinning, his heart is racing faster than when he was working out, and he feels like throwing up. No, heâs not okay.Â
âI need to go.â He starts booking it to the arena, Kyle trailing behind him.Â
He has three unanswered texts from Sarah, a call from Topper, and one from Kelce by the time he makes it back to the arena. He says bye to Kyle and rushes to the bathroom. Heâs going to throw up, he feels lightheaded.Â
He didnât realize how not okay he was with losing her forever right until this moment. He couldnât face it for the longest time. He loves Sofia. He does. She has been important to him, his growth, and his life, sheâs been an amazing partner. But thatâs all sheâs been. A friend. Because he couldnât give her his heart. Not when Y/N was out there already walking around with it. She had never given it back. She owned it, owned him. He knew that now. With every fibre in his being, he knew that he was still in love with her. And she was marrying someone else. He was losing her.Â
His breathing feels laboured. He feels the room continue spinning, he slides down the bathroom wall trying to keep the panic attack at bay. How could he be so stupid? How could it take him so long to realize that he couldnât live without her no matter how hard he tried? It would always be her.Â
He hears his phone ringing again but ignores it. He needs to get his breathing under control before he can talk to anyone. They canât know heâs losing it.Â
He needs to do something. He needs to get his shit under control and talk to Y/N. He hasnât had a panic attack in so long. Heâs not used to dealing with it. He needs to find Barry first.Â
+++
Sheâs in one of her moods again, every time Julio leaves she gets sad and it takes her a day or two to get back into the swing of things. Itâs been a week since she had asked Rafe for space. She thinks that sheâll be able to work towards forgiving him or at least putting the past behind her. After talking to Cleo, Sarah, and Julio, they had all given her the same advice. Do what she believes is the best next step for her.Â
She notices Sarah hovering over Rafe like a mother hen, checking in on him, asking him if heâs okay every two seconds. She doesnât know what happened but Topper had told her he went missing for the entire day until their show. And sheâs pretty sure he showed up high. Sheâs scared for him. Heâs been clean for so long that getting into drugs again now could shock his system. Heâs not her responsibility anymore but she cares if he lives or dies.Â
That same day that Rafe went missing, everyone was congratulating her for being engaged. The updates account had hinted at her being engaged too, she doesnât know where they got that information, she not only had to tweet, she had to tell the entire team that no, she was not engaged.Â
It had been a stupid misunderstanding that Sarah had apologized for a significant amount. Cleo had asked Julio how he would propose so Julio had set the scene for her and gotten down on one knee and Y/N had played along. Stupid and dumb.Â
Sheâs reading a contract for a new magazine shoot sheâs doing when Rafe comes up to her.Â
âHey.â He seems anxious. He canât seem to stand still and his hairâs a mess.
âHi, you good?â She asks him.Â
âNo.â She gives him her full attention now. Wondering what heâs about to say to her.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâm selfish.â She doesnât like the tone he says it in. Like he knows heâs about to tell her something he shouldnât.
âWhatever youâre about to say donât.â She goes back to her contract, staring at it blankly.
âWhen I thought you were engaged-â
âRafe. Enough.â
âI had never felt so heartbroken in my life.â Sheâs shaking her head at him, trying to get him to stop.
âAnd I thought, I have to stop this now. I have to do whatever I can to stop it before it goes too far and I have to ruin your wedding. Because I would. Because Iâm selfish.â She doesnât know what to say to that so she says the first thing that comes to mind.
âItâs too late.â
âIt doesnât have to be.â Thereâs desperation in his voice, his eyes glassy.
âYouâre engaged!â She yells, getting up and in his face.
âNo, I love you.â
âI love Julio.â
âI love you.â
âStop!â She turns her back to him and tries to find her breath.
âNone of that changes how I feel. Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry itâs taken me this long to figure myself out.â She feels him behind her, looming over her shoulder.
âWhy are you telling me any of this?â
âI canât lose you. And thatâs whatâs happening because Iâm an idiot. But I canât lose you and Iâm going to fight for you.â She turns around to face him, taking a step back, creating distance between them.
âThereâs no fighting for me. Weâre done. Weâve been over for so long. For three years I only spoke to you on stage or in interviews! Thereâs no us.â
âTell me you donât love me.â
âRafe.â Her voice is firm but he doesnât care.
âTell me you donât love me and Iâll go. Iâll leave you alone and you wonât ever have to see me again.â
âNot possible. The band.â She doesnât know why she needs to make sure the band is safe in this moment, so much has happened between them to keep it alive, it canât be at risk now.
âOutside of that then. Tell me.â She stays quiet, shaking her head once more.
âPlease.â She snaps.
âI was in love with you for years! Since I was 13 years old you have lit up my goddamn world and when you finally gave me that chance, when you started looking at me like we could be something you ripped it all away. You hurt me so much and now? Now is when you want to come back and tell me everything Iâve been hoping for for years. Now when youâre getting married and Iâm in a happy relationship?â She finishes, her chest heaving anger leaving her body in droves.
âYouâre not in a happy relationship.â
âRafe.â Her tone is warning him to not continue.
âCome on! He doesnât understand you the way I do! Doesnât understand the life we live, and the sacrifices we have made to be where we are. Heâs not good enough for you.â
âAnd you are?âÂ
âNo.â She throws her hands up, âbut, I understand you. I know who you are at your core, baby.âÂ
âStop.â Sheâs sure sheâs shooting daggers at him now.
âWhy?â
âYou donât get to call me that.â
âNo, why are you with him?â Heâs close to her again, she can feel his breath hitting her face.
âBecause.â
âBecause what?â
âBecause I love him!â Rafeâs face falls. She exhales. âI love him.â
âNo, you donât.â She stays quiet.Â
âYou canât.â He backs up a little, his head shaking, eyes sad.
âRafe,â she says softly, stepping closer to him. She reaches out but pulls her arm away quickly.
âItâs too late.â She repeats her words from earlier.
âBut I love you.â She doesnât want to hurt him but she knows she has to put an end to this.
âI donât love you.â
âIâm so stupid. Oh my god, how did I ever let you go? Iâm an idiot th-â she cuts him off putting a hand on his arm.
âHey hey, stop. Itâs okay. Weâll get through this.â
âHow?â Tears are threatening to spill over now. His eyes are red. She doesnât know if itâs from holding back tears or from smoking.
âBy being friends.â His blue eyes pierce into hers.
âIâll try.â
âOkay.â There are a lot of things left unsaid between them. She hugs him for the first time in years and he puts his face in the crook of her neck. She feels him crying. His tears soaking her neck.
âI love you.â She does too. Not in the way that he wants. Not anymore.
âI know.â
#kildaresplit au#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#outerbanks au#rafe obx#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron smau#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe
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A freebie
Logan got out of the cab behind Wade and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
Too late for the funeral, but not too late to make this so much fucking worse. He could still see you in his mind's eye yesterday. So fucking furious. At everyone. At him. At Wade. A wound torn open that was buried so deep you'd probably forgotten it was there.
Until he told you he was done sneaking around because he got what he wanted out of you. Not knowing THIS was about to happen.
It was- an okay restaurant. Lunch rush. He and Wade weren't exactly underdressed but in his Hawaiian shirt, Wade stuck out like a sore thumb at a table dressed in black. A family in mourning.
You're sitting at the end. Three half siblings and a stepmom you just fucking met talking about the man your father was. How kind and selfless. What a good dad. Stories of legendary Christmas mornings and silly things dads just do.
He and Wade watch for a moment as you smile politely and nod, "He could be... charming, that's for sure."
"Oh c'mon," Y/N the oldest boy- named Cody pushed, "You have to have some kind of story!"
"I didn't see dad much when I was little," you shrug, still politely smiling, "He was usually working-"
"Or cheating on our mom. Or gambling. Or doing a massive amount of drugs," Wade said pulling up a chair and sitting at the table. "Wade" he said introducing himself before looking at you, "You gonna eat this, it looks amazing?"
"Have at it," you murmur, "excuse me." You get up from the table unsteadily. You don't know these people but you can't watch this.And you can't stop Wade. He's about to Ruin the picture they have of their dad. THEIR dad. Not yours. And you can't- you don't want to have all those details laid out but you can't- it feels like you can't breathe as you stumble outside and lean against the building.
Logan looks from you to Wade. Not sure what to do. But the decision is made for him when he gets caught up listening to Wade as he tells stories- times your dad never showed up for you. Times he left you in the hospital alone and scared. The fighting. The ignored problems- before he finally just left when you were about five. Only bothering to call when he thought about it. but Oh! One time he sent a birthday card with no return address! That was fabulous! "So yeah," he finished. "She has a TON of great stories about our dad, Cody." He set down his fork and dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table before walking out, "Great catching up. Fuck off."
"Mouth-"
"Where'd she go?" Logan asked, his voice uncharacteristically tense.
"Outside," Logan said nodding to the door. He could smell you, pick that sweet aroma up anywhere. "Not too far."
Wade nodded and wound his way through tables deftly towards the door and Logan followed. His heart pounding. Over the traffic noise and the wind he could hear you. Trying not to cry. And however faintly, even at this distance, he could hear your heart pounding. Like hummingbird wings. Too much. This is all too much, he thought.
"Butterbean," Wade singsonged, skipping over, "I handled-"
"Don't," you warn. And the tone of your voice stops him short. It's low and almost dangerous. You're holding on to something by a very thin thread and it's fraying.
Logan recognizes a standoff when he sees one and the tension in the air is thick. Denser than the air in a dust storm. He finds himself calculating. You're human. You can't hurt them. But he knows with sudden, painful clarity that isn't the danger here.
And without looking at Wade, he knows that Wade knows it too. You're about to snap. The pressure and the pain are too jagged and too hungry.
"Cupcake," Wade said softly, "Come here?"
One wrong move. A calculated risk, he started forward with his arms out to hug you and you jerked, wheeling around to punch the wall.
And they both heard it. Bones fucking cracking. And the way you gasped, crumbling to your knees, cradling your wrist to your chest.
"Jesus," Logan breathed.
"You drive," Wade sighed, picking you up and jerking his head towards your purse. "I'm gonna pretend she didn't punch that bad on purpose."
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đĄË+âđźâŚ â sentimental sewing + katsuki bakugou.
૮ Í>âĄ< Íá warnings â fluff, sfw, gn!reader and another domestic katsuki thought for you, heâs good at sewing hehe <3!
being an only child meant that bakugou picked up a lot of random little habits and hobbies to fill up his time â especially when he felt alone. the kids at school werenât really his friends, they only liked him for his quirk, that he was strong, talented. in truth, katsuki preferred his loneliness compared to faux company of others.
instead of playing out in the sunshine, katsuki would sit by his motherâs feet when she worked from homeâ piecing together and designing gowns or three piece suits or ambiguous tricks to be worn by famous pro heroes to galas and charity eventsâ sometimes, just because they wanted something nice to wear. mitsuki was a highly sought after designer and seamstress, and katsuki picked up on a lot of her skills just from watchingâ observing, strategising.
âdo you want to try, katsuki?â the elder bakugou had asked him one evening, her hand in his soft blonde hair as sheâd passed him his own set of needles and a patch of spare fabric for him to work on. he was much too young to help her with a commissioned gown. âwatch yer ma carefully, okay, my love? then you can try again on your own.â
no one would have ever guessed that katsuki bakugou was good at sewing or stitching.
over the years he would patch up his own hero costume after training or a gnarly run in with villainsâ katsuki was sentimental, he blew up a lot of his own shit but his hero costume was somewhat important to him. he didnât want it to be replaced. heâd used those skills to stitch himself up when first aid was too hard to get to on covert missionsâ nothing but a leather belt between his pointed teeth and a needle sterilised with alcohol. mitsukiâs skills had saved his life a few times, heâd be forever grateful to the hag for all of that.
being able to use a needle and thread meant saving money on giftsâ or at least thatâs what katsuki called it. heâd spend ages embroidering little handkerchiefs or sewing patches onto items he knew his newer and better friends from UA would cherish. they all knew about the blondeâs secret talent, holding back their squeals as they squished him between them all whenever he mumbled.
âi didnât make it, sâjust a stupid customised gift. now get offâa me bâfore i blow your head off!â
but deep down inside, bakugou was pleased to know he could make something of sentimental value for the people he lovedâ even if it was small, it was thoughtful. he liked that.
âkatsuki,â you warble, eyes brimming with tears when you come to bed one nightâ weakly holding up a scarf heâd gotten you to soothe the chill after one of your first and earlier dates. ââm sorry!â
you and bakugou had been together for years, finding yourself falling fast and hard after he wound up in your care at the hospitalâ on the one time his handy little stitches had gotten a wound infected. âwhas the matter with you, sweetheart?â he grunts, taking off his glasses and throwing his night time read aside. âyou cryinâ?â
ân-noâŚum, yeah? itâs kinda stupid? i wore the scarf you gave me today and i got caught on a stupid tree branch walking home andâ?â you hiccup, seconds away from breaking down as you hold the piece of fabric out to your boyfriend. âthereâs a hole in it? i swear i didnât mean for it to happenâ i just tried tugging it free and it ripped andââ sniffling, a pathetic pout sits on your lips. âyou got this for me ând iâve ruined it, iâm sorry kats.â
sentimental. youâre sentimental over a cheap and shitty scarf that bakugou had gotten you on a whimâ so that he had an excuse to spend more time with you after your initial date had ended all those years ago. âgive it here, Iâll fix it.â he grunts, hiding the flush on his cheeks before he takes the scarf from you and pokes a finger through the hole. âstop cryinâ and grab the sewing kit ma left in the study.â
nodding your head furiously, you do as youâre told with a watery smile and perch yourself on the edge of the bed next to your brooding boyfriend while he patches up your silly scarf with some old fabric and a few stitches. âi didnât know you could sew, kats.â you breathe happily, clutching the material to your chest after inspecting the cute little embroidered heart katsuki had done all nicely for you. âitâs perfect, thank you.â
âall i did was patch it up sweetheart,â bakugou coos, leaning over your shoulder to brush a half hearted and sleepy kiss over your cheek. âma taught me, sâhow i fixed myself up all botched ân badly ân ended up in your emergency room, donât you remember?â he loves the way you squeeze him closer, having sniffed your scarf and realised that it smells like your favourite thing. your favourite person. him.
youâre sentimental, not just with materialistic things, but with your partner. your lover, everything about him is cherished by you.
âi just thought youâd been an idiot, didnât know you were this talented katsuki,â you say wistfully, allowing the blonde to pull you back into his arms.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugo x reader#bakugou fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugou scenarios#bakugou imagine#⧠âË੠â writing#tteokdoroki#⧠âËđ੠â aali just posted
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okay so, maddie pov fic where maddie has just managed to f i n a l l y get buck to admit to her that he has feelings for eddie (and, like, she's tried to tiptoe around it â as much as one can tiptoe around a giant ass elephant that sits square in the center of every single room, incredibly obvious and ridiculously hard to ignore).
she's been trying to let buck come to her with it on his own time, at his own pace... but she's getting impatient. she knows that buck is aware of his feelings now â there had been a time, a l o n g time, where he hadn't, long enough that maddie had tried to, like, give him little nudges towards it, to prompt him into realizing it for himself, only he'd n e v e r taken the bait. he'd always just continued on, oblivious as ever. it had driven maddie positively crazy.
but now. NOW, she is sure that he knows. and her sister sense are tingling, because she also knows that he wants to talk to her about it â but he's scared. if maddie had to take a guess it was because these are, like, the realest feelings buck has ever had. she's seen him in love before, but not like this. this is something way bigger than love, really. and maddie gets that, she does. it had felt that way with chimney, for her. she'd spent so long avoiding facing her feelings head on, trying not to say it out loud because that made it real and when it's real that's when bad things can happen. that's when it gets scary.
and so she'd let buck sit with it for a while, let him have his time to jump that hurdle himself. only now it's been weeks, over a month, really, and enough is enough. maddie feels, maybe, just a little bad to just confront him with it, to say it point blank to his face... but then again, that's what buck did with her and chimney, so she really can't feel too bad.
BUT. ANYWAY. buck f i n a l l y tells her that, yes, he has feelings for eddie. except immediately after he says it, he bounces. drops some super lame excuse and is out her front door before maddie can even blink. and god, that was like pulling teeth, but maddie did not spend all that time suffering silently under the weight of her own knowledge for it to cumulate in a ten second conversation â barely even a conversation, actually.
so maddie pulls out her phone to text buck, to tell him this isn't over, he can run but he can't hide from her, they WILL be talking about this some more. and, idk, maybe maddie just got a new phone, or it updated on its own, and somehow all of her message threads got wiped, so she has to start a new one. she has buck in her phone as 'evan' for whatever reason, and so she types in 'e' and hits the first contact that comes up â because buck is the only favorited 'e' contact she has, and that automatically bumps him to the top of the rest â and she types out the message, "buck!!! we are not done talking about your feelings for eddie!!!" and sends it without a second glance.
a few minutes later she gets a response, and at first she's confused. staring back at her from her screen is either a string of ???? or a 'i don't think you meant to send this to me...' and that's when maddie takes the time to finally look at who, exactly, she did send it too and oh.
oh.
oh no.
she didn't send it to buck. she sent it to eddie.
because â that's right, buck was hanging out with christopher the other day, and maddie had tagged along, and buck had insisted on taking a picture of the three of them to send to eddie, only his phone connection was shit, and the photo wasn't sending, so he made maddie give him her phone so he could plug eddie's number in and send it to him from hers (and, unbeknownst to her, buck had favorited eddie's contact too, because if eddie is buck's favorite, then of course he'd be his sisters favorite too. duh.) and because 'ed' comes before 'ev', eddie's name had jumped to the top of maddie's contacts.
so, she had not, in fact, hit buck's contact like she'd thought, but eddie's. and now she's just spilled her brother's b i g g e s t secret to the very object of it.
shit.
and then, of course, eddie's like freaking out on his end because holy shit is that real, could it really be true? does that mean he actually stands a chance? that his own feelings aren't totally hopeless? and maybe he tries to like press maddie about it, to get her to confirm that it's real and isn't some like totally massive super mean prank or anything (or that they weren't talking about some other eddie or something), and like he goes so far as to show up at her door to talk to her about it â which is how maddie catches onto eddie's (returned) feelings, because no man would be that desperate for an answer unless that answer was something he really wanted to hear.
and maddie's like caught between a rock and a hard place, because she doesn't want to make things worse and spill everything to eddie because that is not her place! shes already messed up bad enough. but also... now she's sharing a room with EDDIE'S big ass elephant of feelings, and she knows that if she does tell him that it's true that might be the push he needs to do something about it. (because every time she suggests he just talk to buck about it, eddie pushes back with a 'but is it true?')
and blah blah, eventually, in the end the truth of it all has to come out and buck finds out that maddie fucked up and hes upset until he isnt becuase that did finally prompt eddie to come clean about his feelings, and so "really, buck, it's a good thing i sent that message! you two would've been dancing around each other for who knows how many more years if i havent!"
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Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Three
⼠in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Mentions of murder, language, stalking}
Part One; Part Two; Part Four || Word Count ~ 807 words
Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @itzlovelyautumn @katie-tibo
âYes?â You answered sweetly. âYou call back cause you forgot to ask for my name?â
âNo, princess,â Ghostface said lowly.
âThen what do you want? And make this pretty short because my friend is here and I donât want to keep her waiting. Actually, you have until this popcorn is finished.â
Billy was taken aback at how much colder you were tonight than before. Last night youâd been bubbly and friendly, ready to answer his questions and counter with your own. But right now you were closed off and hostile. Did you know something?â
âAh yes, we wouldnât want to disturbâŚâ he pretended to think, humming for good measure. âTatum, I think her name is?â
âOkay, Ghostie,â you bit back, throwing venom into your woods. âYouâre either in my yard right now, or youâve been stalking me for a while. And that means youâre planning to kill me, right?â
Billy nodded, then realized you couldnât see him. âYesâŚ?â He had no idea what was going on.
âWell, I invite you to try,â you put emphasis on try, not even attempting to keep the disgust out of your voice. âBut first, Tatum is going home.â
Billy tried to protest but you cut him off. âIâm giving you a free pass at me. Not Tatum. Me. So shut up and wait a few minutes.â
Billy grumbled and hung up, watching you usher Tatum out. He had no idea what you said to get her out so quickly, but he could feel the excitement thrumming through his veins. Suddenly, all the lights in the house were off and he lost sight of where you were.
He frantically called your number again, grinning stupidly when you picked up. When you spoke, your voice was low and dangerous. Completely different from how you were in school. âWho am I speaking to? Leader or accomplice?â
Billy was taken aback, the question he was going to ask dead on arrival. âExcuse me?â
âThereâs two of you. One of you is going to be the leader, probably smarter and darker then the other; and one you is going to be the accomplice, probably more outgoing and eccentric.â
Billy shrugged. âI guess Iâm the leader then. But why would it matter to you? Youâre going to die anyway.â
âI just wanted to know who I was talking to, Billy Loomis.â
His heart dropped. There was no other way to describe the sudden panic in his ears, no other way to describe the sudden lurch of his stomach. The only thing on his mind was that he must kill you now. Any hesitation was extinguished like a flame in the wind.
âWhat?â Howâd you know? Was it that obvious?
âOh relax, Loomis. Itâs not obvious to anyone else if thatâs what youâre wondering. Did you really assume that I would think it was a mere coincidence that the day after you call me you come up and invite me into your friend group? That as soon as Stu began talking about how to gut someone, you tell him off for fear of you getting caught? That the day after I apparently âprove myselfâ to you, you come to kill me?â
âDamn,â Billy was impressed, there was no other way to put it. Youâd figured all that out in a day? He was still going to kill you â he didnât want you spilling his secret to anyone â but he was impressed.
âOh, Iâll still let you attempt to kill me,â you smirked. âBut I just thought Iâd provide that extra incentive.â
Why werenât you scared? There wasnât even a hint of a quiver in your voice. He felt the first inkling of anxiety buried deep in his chest. He didnât have Stu to pull him out if this went sideways.
You tapped the knife against your lower lip, waiting for him to speak. You smiled to yourself as you threaded the rope in between the fingers of your other hand. This was going to be fun.
Without warning, the window in your living room was shattered, and you assumed that was Billy. Silent as a wraith, you slipped into the hallway, knife held behind your back.
Billy spun around, searching the shadows for you. Fortunately, his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness. He heard a sound across the room and spun, Ghostface mask heavily restricting his vision.
You smiled as Billy fell for the oldest trick in the book, tapping his shoulder. âBoo!â You whispered, slipping the rope around his neck and plucking the knife out of his hands in the same fluid, practiced movement.
Billy wheezed out a curse, scrabbling at the rope frantically. You ripped the mask off his face, tracing his jaw with the knife. âOh Billy, havenât you learned? Donât mess with someone who doesnât fear death.â
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[BAD DECISION #9] White
warnings: birdie time he he. honestly just very wholesome all round, but the embers are burningggg, theyâre very wet! fantastic! (1) mention of Hang SĆĄn Äoòng (worlds biggest cave).
soundtrack:Â lemon -Â loco, hwasa;Â safety zone -Â j-hope
wc:Â 6k
bd total wc:Â 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlistÂ
It's mid-morning the following Monday when Jeongguk's message lands in your inbox. The sky is free of clouds, sun beating down on the windows of the subway carriage you're in. It's above ground, crossing the river.
Summer is reaching the end of its peak, but monsoons are still a looming threat. There have been weather warnings all month, but today seems okay. You've an umbrella tucked into your tote just in case, legs crossed as you flick through your notifications on the subway.
Three unread messages sit pretty at the top of your inbox.
Jeongguk:Â Still on for today?
Danbi:Â u, me, ryan reynolds in lycra, tonight. game?
Seokjin:Â Â such a tease, you know i love those shorts on you - if memory serves me correctly they were off far more than they were on whenever you wore them ;) you around tonight?
Jeongguk is probably the only one who needs a reply, and yet you can't help but stare at Seokjin's message for a little longer than you should.
If Danbi knew you were texting him, she'd probably confiscate your phone, like your parents used to do during your teen years. Jeongguk would probably throw all your stupid little origami birds at you. Would hope you'd get a paper cut.
It'd be deserved, you think.
Jeongguk had wasted his entire Sunday on you as a result of Seokjin's carelessness. You didn't leave until Jimin had taken a nap on the couch at just gone six, your day full of mindless chatter and harmless distractions from Seokjin. It had been nice. Comforting.
And yet when you'd arrived home, a text had been waiting from Seokjin:
heyyy, sorry I had to rush off. didn't wanna wake you. you looked toooo cute. was so nice to see you again.
It's kind of embarrassing, the way your heart seemed to settle at the sight of it; like things were as they should be once more.
You told yourself that Seokjin hadn't meant to upset you. That it was all a big misunderstanding.
He said everything you wanted him to in that message. Said sorry. Maybe he didn't give you an excuse nor an explanation, but he did give you a compliment, and that had you giggling.
Had you thinking that maybe you'd been reactive, and were too highly strung. Perhaps he was never the issue. What if it was you?
Still, it's Jeongguk's message thread you tap through to instead -Â yeah, just on the subway now! we're still meeting there?
You contemplate whether or not you want to tell him that you've spoken to Seokjin later. He'll no doubt ask about him, with a sneer on his lips, nose upturned at the mere thought of him.
And so naturally, you know you'll lie. "No. Not heard from him."
It's not that you want to be dishonest. Not in the slightest.
You're no stranger to a white lie or two, but Jeongguk had scooped up all of your broken pieces in the early hours of yesterday morning, and tried to washi tape them back together - only for you to run straight back to the person holding a sledgehammer.
You don't want to be reckless with the care Jeongguk's afforded to you; it's just that while Jin's got a sledgehammer in one hand, it also looks like he's got super glue in the other. It's a little bit stronger than washi tape.
Especially Jeongguk's rolls of washi tape; which are the entire reason why you're spending your day off on the subway, and not tucked up in bed, instead.
Jeongguk had devised a plan following the fall of your origami bird, but had neglected to tell you exactly what that plan was.
Had said "look, I won't lie - I can't help you with this. Gimmie the evening to think of a plan, though? I'll text you later."
He'd texted you an address by the time you'd arrived home. Told you not to search it up; said he'd meet you there at midday. Kind of felt like a challenge, and you don't like losing - so you'd done as he'd said. Other than putting the address into Naver maps to find the route, you were none the wiser as to where you were headed.
The subway leads you to the outskirts of town. Down by the river, just a little further up from the arboretum you always tell yourself you should visit more often. You're local to the city, but it's so vast that there are still areas you aren't too familiar with. This is one of them. You know what's in the general area - the arboretum, an old water park, and some museums, but you've no idea what the exact address could be.
As you climb the stairs, you're regretful of the fact you actually listened to Jeongguk. Should have looked up the address beforehand. Seen what was about; what dress code would have been appropriate.
Denim shorts hug your curves, and a little white blouse sits prettily on your shoulders. You're making the most of the summer while it lasts; skin exposed, despite the judgement thrown your way by the ajummas you pass on the street.
A mirror selfie had been sent to Seokjin before you'd left the house, in reply to his collarbone-wielding, broad shoulder-baring bed selfie. His hair had been messy, and there was a little pink mark on his neck. You're pretty sure you left it there. Didn't wanna focus on it for too long just in case you realised that you... didn't.
There had been a little tactful positioning of your phone in front of your face when you took your photo. Had been covering your eyes. Hiding the glitter.
And it's funny, 'cause it's the first thing that Jeongguk notices when he spots you.
You're looking around, realising exactly where you are, a frown slowly forming. He'd expected nothing less. You always arrive with a small frown whenever he's around - but he also always manages to get you beaming, too. It's part of the charm that comes with being around Jeongguk. Bad moods dissolve into nothingness.
He smiles, just like he always does. Waves. Throws you not one, but two peace signs. His thin lips plumpen into a pout as he wiggles his shoulders, the ease of acting childishly coming naturally when he's around you.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He glows as if he hadn't seen you less than twenty-four hours ago.
Strolling towards you, he ignores the slight scowl that's resting on your neat brows. Just continues smiling. All doe-eyed and dainty. Hopes you won't be able to resist breaking into a smile, too.
He likes your glitter today. It's just in the corners of your eyes. Thinks you look like a fairy.
"I'm wearing white!" is all you can say, a little exasperation clouding your words, before laughter begins to tumble from your lips whether you want it to or not. "You asshole! You should have warned me!"
Jeongguk's wearing all black. A pair of shorts, a long sleeve swimming shirt and one of his many oversized black t-shirts over the top. See, he's dressed according to his plans - the plans that he neglected to share with you.
But he's a man. How much can you really expect from him? You doubt he's ever had to run home in the middle of a thunderstorm with his arms crossed over his chest to protect his modesty. Doubt his eyes have ever felt the unwelcome intrusion of sodden mascara running into them.
"Oh, chill out, Disco Ball," he banters, rolling his eyes as he twiddles his lip ring with his tongue. He comes to a stop in front of you. Pouts. Pushes his lips to the side, and his cheek slowly rises like a freshly baked loaf of bread. "It's only a little water. Worst comes to the worst, we'll just buy you another shirt."
When Jeongguk says it's only a 'little water,' he's telling a big fat lie.
You're both well aware that 'little' is hardly the appropriate word to use.
Not when you're standing next to the entrance of the largest outdoor waterpark in the city.
You don't want to say definitively, but you think it might be the largest waterpark in the entire district. Biggest you've ever been to, that's for sure, not that you really make a habit of it.
"Look," he says. "You're the one who wrote the bird, not me. Blame yourself."
"And you're the one who didn't give me a dress code," you reply with a small scoff. He's unbelievable.
It's not like he was ever supposed to see your birds. Your intention had only ever been for the pair of you to vent out your frustration; to see them in black and white and maybe colour them in.
"You could have just looked at Naver. Seen where you were going."
"You told me not to!"
Jeongguk smirks to himself, a little pleased with how much you seem to have blindly trusted him. He also thinks it's incredibly foolish, and adds it to his list of things he needs to worry about in the future. While it's him that you're mindlessly following the orders of, it's okay, he supposes. Knows you're safe. Nothing to worry about right now.
"You'll be fine, Byeol," he says, hooking an arm around your neck, rubbing his knuckles against the crown of your head. You don't even bother to scramble away, sensing his grip tighten when your back edges out from his grasp. With arms like his, you're ensnared whether you like it or not. "You bring your bird?"
He keeps his arm locked around your neck, resting on your shoulders, but stands a little straighter as you head in direction of the waterpark. His relaxed posture allows you to rummage around in your tote bag for the small piece of folded paper. It's in the bottom, a little crumpled, but still quite clearly in bird form.
Jeongguk pinches it from you as soon as you retrieve it, not seeming to care much for the fact that it's your bird. You're locked in by his arms as he strengthens some of the creases that have fallen lax thanks to the lack of attention you'd been paying when you tossed it into the bag.
"You're gonna give yourself bad bird luck," he tells you. "Gotta preserve them, Byeol, or otherwise you'll never overcome your fears."
"I'm not really sure we'll be overcoming any fears today," you mutter in response.
He takes great offence to this. Tells you to 'stop being a negative Nancy', and that 'you'll never overcome your fears with an attitude like that'. You pinch him through his shirt. He recoils away from you, finally giving you a little room to breathe.
And then he calls you a goblin.
"That's rich," you snort, peering into your bag once again to get your wallet, shooing his hands away as he brings out his own wallet from his shorts pocket. "Nah, this is on me. My fear. I'll pay."
There's an attempt from him to protest, but you just tell the cashier you're paying for two, and there's very little he can do about it. He feels bad. This is, after all, his idea. He gave you no wiggle room. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.
A bathroom? Maybe.
But not here.
"Absolutely not," you had exclaimed yesterday afternoon after reading the bird. Jeongguk couldn't stop laughing. "Stop! You'll give me a complex."
He hadn't meant to find it so funny - he was just taken by surprise. It's a reflex.
"No, no," he cooed. "It's cute. Really sweet, actually. Should have told me last night. Could have actually done something about it."
It was at that point that you flicked him on the forehead. Told him to go touch some grass. Get his head out of his ass.
And then, finally, you told him, "You're never showering with me."
In typical Jeongguk fashion, he'd just smirked. Found your defensiveness funny. "And nor is anyone else, apparently."
The bird resting on Jeongguk's stomach was laying flat, open on your words:
SHOWER WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
He thinks it's the all caps that cracked him up so much. So aggressive. So cute. A bit like you.
Showers had been one of your favourite forms of intimacy during past relationships. You'd even found it fun with casual hookups.
But now?
Feels forbidden. Tarnished. Dirty.
It's almost as if someone else running their hands over your skin beneath the water will rid you of the stain that Seokjin left - and if you're not his, whose are you?
It's stupid because you don't belong to anyone but yourself. You'd spent months resenting the removal of your identity, but now that you have the chance to reclaim it, you're still letting his mark remain.
You had told Jeongguk later that afternoon - with absolute certainty - that he'd never be facing that fear with you, only for him to say, "it doesn't have to be that big of a deal. I'll prove it to you."
And now he's trying to do exactly that.
He leads as you follow and make your way into the park. It's been a fair few years since your last visit, but it always looks the same; paint work a little tatty, white watermarks tarnishing pipes, and slightly dated equipment available for hire. In fact, you think the inflatables sitting pretty and ready for renting might be the same ones you used as a child on family trips.
"Still don't understand how on earth this is supposed to help me with my fear of intimacy," you speak softly once Jeongguk is done telling you about the tallest waterslide in the world. It's in Brazil, and he insists that he doesn't understand why on earth they called it Kilimanjaro when it's not even remotely close in height nor geographical location.
You tell him he's pedantic and he smiles as if you've just given him a gold star.
"It's helping because we're making it less scary," Jeongguk states all very plainly. Seems simple to him. His logical mind leaps from A to B, while yours is still spiralling round and round like a hula-hoop. "What do you do in the shower?"
"When I'm with someone else?" You raise a brow. "Not sure I want to say it out loud in a kid's waterpark."
"Oh, ew, no, not that part. I mean the basics," he sighs, before choosing just to answer for you. "You get wet. That's the first hurdle."
"Gguk, that's barely even the first meter," you counter. "And after that? There's still a billion hurdles left to jump."
"Well, you have to start somewhere, don't you?" He nudges his shoulder against yours, before spotting the concessions store up ahead. "See. Told you you'd be able to buy a shirt. Here."
He hands you his wallet, only for you to pass it right back.
"It's good, I'll get it."
"I dragged you here."
"And I'm the one who made that stupid bird," you laugh. "It's fine. Tell you what though, if they only have ugly shirts, you're gonna have to get one too. Can't be doing this alone."
"Watcha mean?"
"Well look at you," you shrug, as if it's plainly obvious. "You're in all black and - not that I agree with this, but - I'm sure some people will find you 'okay' looking. You know all the yummy mummies are gonna be swooning over you instead of looking after their kids."
"Swooning?" He grins with a small chortle. "Are you trying to insinuate something, Byeol?"
You gasp, and take a step away from him. "Are you saying I look like a mother?"
This, he decides rather quickly, is dangerous. You almost sound like you're flirting. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that he knows he shouldn't indulge himself and yet-
"Maybe I'm into MILFs."
You've a remarkably good poker face. He can't tell if you're actually annoyed, until you look at him with a small smile. It's hidden by the sultry, tempestuous expression you're throwing his way, but definitely still there.
"So first I'm a mother, and now you wanna fuck me? Well, aren't you full of surprises?"
If there's one thing Jeongguk enjoys, it's a girl who knows how to twist words. Regretfully, it always gets him thinking about other ways they could twist their tongues. The thoughts are unsavoury. Sordid. Lewd.
But you're you.
You're off-limits, and he knows better than to play with fire. He needs to get you wet.
Just, like, not in that way.
"I'll put you under that fountain if you don't stop twisting my words," he asserts as you walk through the park. To your right is a pool, with bright slides twisting in all directions around it. Families play, and laughter prevails. It's nice.
To your left is a row of spouting fountains for kids to run through, water pitter-pattering against the warm concrete floor. They're tall enough that even Jeongguk could stand beneath them without issue. You always think they look like reverse umbrellas; water pouring where protection should be.
Puddles of water interrupt the walkway, but neither of you care all that much.
"Maybe if you got your head out your ass and stopped flirting-"
"Not flirting."
You scoff as sarcasm wraps itself around your words. "Yeah, and I'm a MILF."
He pauses. Stops walking. Laughs.
"Right," Jeongguk says. "That's it."
It's said in a tone so light and airy that you almost don't realise he's wrapping his arms around you with a grip tight enough to crack a rib. Your playful shrieks are ignored by other park visitors, chalked up to you being a pair of young lovers enjoying the frivolity of a waterpark together.
"I'm in white!" is your final cry before he pulls you under the cascade of a fountain with him.
The worst part of it, you think, is how goddamn happy he sounds, laughing at your misery.
"And I told you to stop twisting my words, Byeol," he says like the bastard he is, while you struggle against him again. Finally releasing you, he keeps a clasp on your wrists to prevent you from straying. "You made your choice."
"I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering - and then you're laughing.
Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure.
Jeongguk loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jeongguk finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day.
Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.
Water barrels down on the pair of you, soaking your hair, your clothes, your skin. It's heavy, the pressure of the fountain far heavier than a shower, but you suppose the outcome is the same.
You don't want to look at Jeongguk with anything but moderate vexation, and yet there's a fond smile tugging at your lips.
Strands of wet hair stick to his face, droplets catching on his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He shakes like a dog caught out in the rain, only to continue getting drenched because he doesn't move from the fountains trajectory. It'd be so easy for him to just manoeuvre himself out of the fountain's direct line and hold you in place, but he chooses to be caught up in it, too. Chooses to be with you. Experience with you.
You'd done his bird together. Only fair for him to do yours with you.
"You still scared, Byeol?" Jeongguk asks, voice quiet beneath the water pummeling down on you both, and yet it has your attention loud and clear.
You want to banter back, say something that will get tripping on his words just like you seem to be - but the rope tied around your ankles seems to be around your tongue, too. Instead, you just shake your head.
"See," he smiles, now. Pulls a hand away from your forehead to wipe at his. Puts it back. "Are showers really that scary?"
And then you do laugh. "It's not a shower. You know it isn't even close."
His face scrunches, water catching in all of his little ridges.
He'll admit the water is annoying. Keeps having to close his eyes. It's bothersome, and it's not like he even cares for boundaries anymore at this point, so-
Fuck it.
His pinkies are against your forehead, index fingers outward. He lowers his head, mirroring you. Rests his forehead against his index fingers. Swears. Can finally fucking see.
And now that he can?
He's looking at you.
With his head angled to such a degree that your chins couldn't be further apart, you still manage to fool yourself to believe that your lashes could brush.
"It's as close as we'll get to one," he counters. "You are showering with another person."
"I'm under a stream of water with another person."
"And how is that any different to showering with someone?"
He isn't stupid. He knows the answer. Knows that you're pedantic enough to go into all the clauses and stipulations that would ever stop this from being classed as a shower - and so he doesn't let you.
Instead, he pulls away, grabbing your wrist as he does so. Leads you further into the park with a smile so big you're surprised he doesn't dislocate his jaw.
"That's the hard part done," he assures you. "You've had a shower with someone. Say thank you."
There's an acute awareness between you both that he's not helped you to overcome your fear in the slightest - but he does have you laughing as you walk through the park, absolutely sodden, without a single care in the world. You're not even bothered by the fact your black bra is visible through the soaked fabric of your shirt.
See, Jeongguk's gotten you relaxed in a situation when you know you'd typically be frantic. He's taking the pressure off. Got you giggling. Got you facing a fear, even if it's not exactly how he set out to do so, nor the fear in question.
In his defence, he really had thought his contrived little plan would count. He'd have never insisted on actually taking a shower with you. He understands why you consider them so intimate. He does, too. Something about the vulnerability really gets him. It's not even the sex that inevitably comes with one that makes him weak at the knees.
He thinks of the girl who folded paper butterflies for him, and how he'd shampoo her hair, chest pressed to her back, and the fact it was in the confines of his bathroom that he realised he was in love with her.
So, Jeongguk gets it. It's why he wouldn't even consider anything but his dumb little waterpark shower as a remedy of your insecurities. He hopes a lesson is learned even if a fear isn't overcome: you can let down your guard without giving up all of you.
What it comes down to, you think, is that Jeongguk isn't a taker. He's not a giver, either, really - but when your walls start to crack and crumble, he doesn't intrude. Stands at a safe distance. Offer you back your bricks. Most men you knew would see a weakness in your defences and claim what's yours as their own.
He's not always been this way. Used to have a 'what's yours is mine'Â understanding of his relationships, too.
His butterfly girl had taught him that no, just because he was given temporary access to something didn't mean it was his. He'd learnt the hard way after he'd always swapped his heart with hers, not realising she'd ever want it back.
And so while Jeongguk will never fully understand whatever you went through - not unless you choose to share it with him - he can empathise. Treat you how he wished someone would have treated him while he was still healing.
As the clouds migrate across the sky, fluffy white shapes occasionally hiding the careful watch of the sun, the day rolls into stupid competitions and races down the tallest slides in the park. The reason you'd ended up here doesn't seem to matter.
Jeongguk races you to the top of the slides again, and again, and again, just to try and beat you down them. He never wins.
Not until you hold back by just a millisecond.
It's just enough to give him a slight edge, and have him roaring in victory - "ha! suck it! loser!" - as he slaps at the water, a smile larger than Hang SĆĄn Äoòng eclipsing any desire you had to win. You'll let him have this one. Let him have one victory.
The haze of late-afternoon sun grazes down on the pair of you, while you lounge by the 'adults-only' pool area. A lot of families have gone home already, but sometimes it's nice to be away from the shrieks of kids messing about in the water.
You're not exactly the maternal type. In fact, Jeongguk's the one who's been pointing out how cute the kids are in their little armbands and sprout hairstyles. He's not wrong. They're incredibly adorable - you're just not that naturally inclined to go 'awww'.
It's all swings and roundabouts, though. Getting away from kids meant being surrounded by, well, some less wholesome auras.
Jeongguk thinks he notices it first; the unwelcome gaze of a middle-aged man. He's felt it for a little while. Upwards of ten minutes. Thinks you're none the wiser. Tries to figure out what's so fucking interesting. Stares him out a little bit - but is ignored.
See, the man - who is probably old enough to be your father - isn't looking at Jeongguk at all. Too busy staring at you, and that shirt of yours which is still yet to dry out. You're on your back, sunning yourself, clothes sodden and sticking to your skin.
Jeongguk thinks you look no different to anyone else in the park. It's typical to wear regular clothes in places like these. Would be more shocking if you were in a bikini. And so while yes, he has noticed the fact your bra is dark, he couldn't tell you the colour because he's been trying not to look. Actively avoiding it, actually.
Annoyance isn't something that Jeongguk's ever been able to hide well.
As he sucks in a little bit of air between his teeth and mutters a small curse to himself, you glance over.
"Hmm?" you ask.
It's not like you don't know the man's staring. You had warned Jeongguk about your attire earlier. Was always gonna happen. He just hadn't realised that this was the reason why you'd been so insistent about the fact he was an asshole for not giving you a dress code.
Realistically, you could have bought a second shirt - but the pair of you got distracted. Didn't care so much when you were laughing and joking about how you both look like rats with your hair all wet.
"Here," he says, tugging on his shirt at the nape of his neck. There's resistance, the weight of the water dragging against his skin, but he pays it no mind as he pulls the shirt over his head. You're still laying down on your back, and turn onto your front with a small grin.
"Y'know if I really was all that bothered, I'd just do this," you say, talking about your change in position. It's not that you want the man to stare - you just know he will regardless. Know that your shorts have ridden up a little, and so he's getting a whole new type of show.
Jeongguk doesn't laugh. Smiles, but doesn't let it reach his eyes. Leans over and drapes the fabric of his shirt over the top of your legs. Over your ass. "You'll burn."
"I'm wearing suncream," you purr, knowing that this has nothing to do with keeping your skin safe.
And so Jeongguk just shrugs. Considers staying silent. Chooses not to.
"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he almost growls beneath his breath, feigning indifference through his body language. "But I don't."
"You saying you can't help yourself?" You tease, to which he just rolls his eyes and lays back down.
"I can help myself perfectly well," he says, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. "Just didn't finish my sentence."
"Oh?" you chirp with great curiosity.
There's a boldness to the way you're engaging in conversation with him. Makes you realise that Jeongguk is just the same as any other boy. He can see you as a sexual object, apparently. Just chooses not to. It's all very interesting.
"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he repeats, crossing his arms over his torso, a defensiveness to his posture, even when he's flat on his back. "But I don't want him to."
Though his eyes remain closed, Jeongguk can hear you move to sit on your knees.
Your back is to the sleazebag, Jeongguk shirt bunching by your heels. You pull it around and bundle it in your lap, mouth resting open in a slight stare of shock.
Unspoken words beg for him to look at you.
But he doesn't. Keeps his eyes firmly shut. Grins. Just says, "Lie back down, Byeol."
The worst part is that you want to. You really do. When his voice is that low, the look on his face that cocky, you want to fold like a sheet of fucking origami paper. Have him bending you about like one of those damn birds.
But then you take a second to think, and realise you're no better than that guy who is still staring at you so intensely you're surprised he doesn't burst a blood vessel. Makes you feel bad. Guilty.
So instead you toss Jeongguk his shirt back and, as you stand, say, "I've a fear of intimacy, Jeongguk. No fear in telling men to fuck off."
He's not surprised by your response. Quite amused by it. Sits up on his elbows. Watches with curiosity as you walk away from him - and then is stunned to see you beeline for the man.
It's the kind of thing he'd see in a movie, background characters slowing to a stop, time ceasing to move except for the leading lady.
And then you're pointing. Accusing. Jeongguk's not sure of what - he can't hear you from this far away - but he knows it isn't nice. Watches the blood drain from the man's face. He's ghostly. And then it all returns, red and raw, with such a vengeance he's surprised blood doesn't start leaking from his nose.
When you turn on your heel, Jeongguk observes with morbid novelty at the scene unfolding; the intense shame on the man's face and the pure brilliance on yours.
"Men," you sigh, as you sit back down next to him. Mirroring his position, you're up on your elbows until you casually let yourself fall back into your original position. "Sorry, where were we? You told me to lie down? Done."
Jeongguk doesn't say anything. Just grins. Collapses back down, too. Doesn't tell you to cover up. Knows better.
Doesn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, though.
Relays the story to you as if you weren't there - weren't central to it - with so much animation that you think he might turn into a cartoon on the subway home.
He's still talking about it between the part where he invites you back for dinner - "Jimin's gonna be in but it's cool. We haven't eaten all day, you must be starving." - and the part where he stands by your door, taking a whole twenty minutes to say goodbye.
You've declined the offer. Told him it'd be a bit weird seeing Jimin. Wouldn't know how to explain it. Jeongguk just says "of course, yeah, you're right. Didn't even think of that. My bad."
There's a little silence afterwards. You know why. It's rejection. Not romantic, nor for anything serious, but it's still the same difference. He'd spent the day trying to help you break down walls only for you to put your bricks on top of his.
It's as he's heading down your stairs (after his fifteenth and final 'bye') that you realise how rude you've been. Just 'cause you wouldn't feel entirely welcome at his doesn't mean he's not welcome at yours.
"Hey, wait a sec! Danbi's home, but do you wanna eat here?" You chance. "We don't have much in, but I can order or we can-"
"My God, I thought you'd never ask," he grins immediately turning on his heel and back towards you. "So hungry I might die."
"You won't."
"I could."
The pair of you bicker as you enter your apartment, Danbi glancing up from the sofa. She looks at you, then looks at Jeongguk, and takes a second to place his face. Definitely knows it - and then it clicks.
She considers asking why the fuck your favourite barman is following you in. He's known within the confines of your apartment as the Barman That Smiles (more commonly referred to as BTS boy), Jeongguk's name a secret just for you to know. Danbi doesn't realise all of those nights you waste are the bar are wasted on him, nor does she realise he's the reason you snuck off the other night.
What she does wonder, however, is if this is all part of your master-get-revenge-on-Seokjin-plan.
Instead of voicing any of these queries, she settles on "what are we having for dinner?"
You shrug. "Ask Jeongguk. He's paying."
He raises a brow as if to question your assertion - only for him to cough up the bill for the pizza delivery that feeds the three of you through a Deadpool rewatch.
When he leaves, Danbi tells him he has to come back next week for Deadpool 2. You grin as you walk him out.
"She just wants you to pay for more food," you tell and he nods. Says he knows.
But then he calls back over to Danbi, "See you next week."
She does a little cheer, and it's all very sweet. They get on well. His humour is welcome in your apartment, and so is his presence. Danbi also hopes it means she'll get more free drinks next time she's at the club.
"She'll play you like a damn fiddle if you let her," you warn just out of her earshot.
"Good," he grins. "We can double date with you and Jimin."
You tell him to fuck off - but also insist that he lets you know when he gets home. The way you care about him is so casual that it feels as if it's been this way for years.
As he heads on home, Jeongguk kind of hopes it will be. Hopes it's the kind of friendship that stands the test of time. Worries that he shouldn't take the flirting too far - but then he's distracted by the little fleck of glitter on the top of his hand. His thoughts are lost, a smile unwinding on his lips as he strolls back to his place.
The skies are void of stars tonight, and yet, for the first time in months, Jeongguk's eyes are full of them.
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#by holly#jk#jeongguk fanfic#jungkook fanfic#Jungkook Fanfiction#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook ff#jeongguk fic#bartender!jungkook#BD#bad decisions#bangtan#bts fanfic#dappleddaisies
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Hi I love your fics! I was wondering if you could write a lee bakugo and ler best jeanist? If your requests are closed you can just ignore this, I thought it could be cute though!
Have a great day! Remember to take care of yourself!
TickleTober Day 2 - Accidental
Okay, kinda lucked out! I was gonna wait till November to do this request, but I liked the pairing and needed an idea. You didn't request it as TickleTober, but that's what it is now. Changes nothing, just gives me an excuse to write it as such lol. Ignore any sewing-term errors, I don't sew anything. Anywho, I hope you Enjoy!
Lee: Bakugou
Ler: Best Jeanist
Summary: Jeanist thought that Bakugou's suit needed some special touches. The blonde obviously protests, leading to some rather giggly measurements.
Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!
Bakugou's hero suit wasâŚwell, it wasn't bad. It just lacked a certain flair the pro hero was looking for. So, with him mentoring the teen and all, Jeanist thought it his responsibility to spruce up the slightly drab suit.
The rapidly approaching fall season was a decent inspiration for him. With fall comes the changing of leaves, carving of pumpkins and cooler weather. Jeanist made sure to insulate the suit, knowing the blonde needed to sweat for his quirk to work. He kept the theme mainly orange, yellow and black, adding in a few splashes of green for style.Â
By the end of his lunch break, he had drawn up a new seasonal suit for Bakugou. It was time for the hard part: getting his measurements without the boy exploding.
âI donât need a new suit! Nothinâs fucking wrong with it!â Bakugou was not putting up with another change. His poor hair had been the first change. That damn comb overâŚheâll never get over it. Now he wanted to switch up his suit design? Fuck that.
The pro hero sighed, expecting this reaction. âNo need to be so dramatic. Itâs just a littleâŚseasonal makeover. Trust me, youâll be much happier.â Bakugou huffed, shaking his head. Yeah right, he had said the same thing about the hairstyleâŚ
Bakugou's choice of words wasn't his best idea. He was getting a bit pissy, letting his temper get the best of him. "Fuck off. My suit is fine, no more makeovers!" He glared at the pro, but that temper faded when he saw the look on his face. The look that meant Jeanist was done with his shit.
"Quite the mouth on you. I believe I said something about censoring your f-bombs, did I not?" Threads flew towards the teen, wrapping around his limbs and getting him positioned. When Jeanist was done, Bakugou was standing tall, his arms and legs spread just enough to get perfect measurements. "I would say 'stand still', but I don't think that'll be an issue now."
A bit dramatic, but he needed it. Bakugou thrashed and tugged on the thread, but everytime one broke, three more were quick to replace it. Jeanist was careful not to hurt the boy, just restrain him. "The fuck?! Get these damn threads offa me!"Â
The pro rolled his eyes, grabbing his measuring tape and approaching him. "What did I just say?" Jeanist first ran the tape around his chest, getting the bust measurements. He wasn't expecting the other blonde's gasp when his fingers grazed his ribs. "BakugouâŚare you hurt?"
Shit⌠"No, go away! Get these damn threads away from me!" He tried thrashing his way out, but nothing was working. Jeanist was too good at keeping him in place.
"Bakugou, if you're hiding an injury, you're only hurting yourself more. I only think less of you for getting injured if you don't tell me about it." His tone was serious. The pro didn't mess around when it came to his others' well-being. Giving Bakugou a stern look-over, he could tell the explosive teen wasn't lying. But if he wasn't injured, why'd he gasp? Jeanist knew he wasn't getting a straight answer; best to run a testâŚ
Ignoring his protests, Jeanist got back to measuring. He did the bust measurements one more time, his fingers grazing Bakugou's ribs again. The teen was prepared, though, biting his cheek to keep quiet.
Okay, no noise that timeâŚmoving onto the waist. He moved the tape down, fiddling with the ends of it to find the exact measurement. He pressed his fingers against the boy's lower stomach, taking mental notes of the numbers.Â
Bakugou's breathing was a bit shaky, his cheek starting to hurt from biting it so hard. Why couldn't Jeanist measure somewhere that wasn't ticklish? Literally any other place would have been fine. He just had to start with his ribs. Things only went downhill from thereâŚ
Now for hip girth. The tape was moved once again, running around his hips. Bakugou struggled not to react when he felt his mentor's fingers brush his hips. He could feel his cheeks heat up, the embarrassment and stupidity of his situation getting to him.Â
Jeanist heard how shaky his breathing was getting, glancing up at the teen's face. What he saw shocked him. A blushing Bakugou, struggling not to smile. Why would heâŚwait a minute. He got a wonderful idea. And oho, it was perfect.Â
The measuring tape was pulled away, Best Jeanist's fingers leaving his torso. Bakugou huffed, sparing a glance at his mentor. He instantly regretted it. The pro hero's smile was as wide as it was mischievous. The measurements were done for now, he could've released him; but he didn't. He knew. Bakugou was fucked.Â
"Jeanist I- don't you FUCKING dare! I'll blow you into the stratosphere! Back off!" The blond pulled at his thread restraints, but Jeanist was too good with his quirk. He could barely wiggle around, much less escape.
The pro hero chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, again with the language. What's it gonna take for you to clean up your act, Bakugou?" He tucked his arms behind his back, slowly getting closer to the teen. He knew exactly what it would take. He just wanted to have a bit of fun with his temperamental mentee.Â
"MaybeâŚsomething like this?" He went behind the teen, squeezing his side. Bakugou huffed, jerking as much as the threads would allow. How were things as simple as threads keeping him restrained so well?Â
"Lemme go! I swear, if you touch me one more time, I'll fucking blast you-" He couldn't even finish his sentence before Jeanist squeezed his side again, cutting his words off with a yelp. "There's that word again. You've really got to stop using it. Children aren't going to want to be near a hero who uses such scary language."Â
To be completely honest, Jeanist didn't really care how the boy spoke. It wasn't up to him, he wasn't going to dictate how he communicated. Still, the cursing gave him an excuse to tickle the other blonde. An excuse he wasn't about to let go of.
Deciding to just go for it, Jeanist scribbled across the teen's stomach. He was pleasantly surprised to hear Baku's poorly-restrained giggles. He wasn't putting up much of an effort to conceal them anymore. "Shihit- nohoho! Get ohohoff!"Â
It was nice to hear the aggressive, loud teen giggle like that. After all, he was still a kid. A teenager, yes, but still a kid. The boy deserves to laugh. And, by the looks of it, he doesn't really mind.Â
"You'd think that you would stop cussing, but no. Honestly, do you ever learn your lesson?" The wiggling fingers move upwards, heading for his ribs. Bakugou's giggling got louder, still lighter and bubbly. At least he was on the right track.
Jeanist slowly moved up Bakugou's ribs, scribbling between each bone. The teen squirmed and thrashed as much as he could, his pink cheeks deepening to a vibrant red. The giggling was now borderline laughter. Just needed that one extra notch to get there.
"Goho awahahay, ohohold mahahahan!" The pro scoffed, pausing his tickling for a second. That kid was in for it now⌠"Old man?! I'm 35, thank you very much! That's a perfectly normal age for a hero. I think you need a lesson in mannersâŚ"Â
The pro's hand suddenly darted upwards, scribbling mercilessly on the spot where his underarms meet the top of his ribs. Bakugou all but screamed, loud cackles replacing his giggling. "NOHOHO! GEHEHET- NOHOT THEHEHERE!"Â
Jeanist just chuckled as he continued his ticklish fun. He was enjoying himself, seeing his mentee laugh like that. The boy never let loose besides fighting, it was a nice sight. "There we go, improvement. No insults, and not one swear word!" He didn't really have a definite reason for tickling Bakugou, besides the fact that it was fun. Excuses would help, though.
Laughter echoed around Jeanist's office, bouncing off the walls and lively the place up. The denim-clad pro experimentally squeezed Bakugou's hip, smirking at the squawk he got in return. His fingers moved away from the teen's death spot, fully moving his hands down to focus on his hips.Â
"OHOHO MY- IHIHI'LL KIHILL YOUHUHU!" Bakugou was trying to continue his sort-of squirming, but he was tiring out. The tickles, paired with that morning's training and patrol, had him beat. He managed to keep his head held up, laughing as the pro went at his hips.Â
His thumbs drilled into the boisterous teen's hips, smirking as he pulled laugh after laugh out of him. The kid definitely had a nice one; much better than his normal demented cackling. His eyes wandered down to Bakugou's legs, questioning if they'd be half as his upper body. Lucky for him, he forgot a measurement.Â
"Oh, my bad! I forgot to measure your inseam! We'll need to take care of that, now won't we?" Jeanist pulled the measuring tape from his pocket once again, holding it against Bakugou's thigh. Only this time, he actually poked around the area, purposefully tickling him while getting the measurement.
Thigh tickles are a completely different experience from anywhere else on the body (imo). As such, Bakugou's laugh was a brand-new shade of adorable. The fiery teen giggled and squeaked, pitchy laughter replacing his cackles.
"CohOHOme ohohon! Youhuhu AHA- uhum, j-jeheherk!â To his mentorâs surprise, Bakugou actually filtered his language. True, he had begun to call him an ass, but he took the effort to stop himself. It was kinda cute, even if he didnât truly care about the other blondeâs language.
Jeanist chuckled, easing up on his studentâs hips. âWould you look at that, he can learn. All it took was some tickling!â Said student groaned, his cheeks reddening as Jeanist said the word. Normally, he can hear and say the word just fine. That time, however, he was being teased and restrained by someone he looked up to. Itâs waaay harder to stay composed when youâre giggling like an idiot.
Finally, the tickling and teasing got to him. Bakugou actually tapped out. He didnât exactly say âuncleâ or anything, but he did say one word that hadnât been spoken since Jeanist started. âS-STOHOHOP IHIT! JeHEHEAnihihist noho mohOHORE!âÂ
And stop it he did. The pro hero pulled his hands away as the threads holding Bakugou in place snapped. The teen fell forwards, a bit dazed from laughing so hard for so long. Jeanist caught the giggly student before he could hurt himself. âWoah, careful. I didnât go too far, did I?â
Bakugou shook his head, hiding his red face in his mentorâs shoulder. âSh-shuhuhut uhupâŚâ That was the only response he needed to know that everything was fine. The older blonde wrapped his arms around him, keeping the boy upright and letting him know that there was no judgment.Â
âAlright, Iâll stop. Still, you have to admit you enjoyed yourself just a little.â Bakugou groaned, weakly punching his mentorâs side. That just made him laugh and muss up the teenâs hair. âIâll take that as another yes.âÂ
A lightbulb seemed to go off in Jeanistâs head as he remembered the whole reason the silliness started. âOh, I almost forgot! Now that Iâve got your measurements, I can start on your new suit!â He walked over to a nearby couch, laying the teen down to rest. Bakugou wasnât totally spent, but he could use a breather. He grumbled something, but didnât protest any. He wanted a quick nap, and knew Jeanist wouldnât tease him for it.Â
The pro went over to his personal work-area, grabbing the fabrics for Bakugouâs new suit. Hopefully, by the time his student woke up, he would have a starting point on the garment.
Their playful exchange had given him some good ideas on where to add extra padding, as well as some pops of color. Bakugou might have been a bit temperamental, but he was a good kid. A good kid deserves a good suit. As he cut the first length of fabric, he thought of the happy smile that was on his menteeâs face as he tickled him. He would have to take measurements more oftenâŚ
#mha tickle#lee!bakugou#ler!best jeanist#ticklish!bakugou#tickletober 2023#augtickletober2023#sfw tickling community#tickle fic#tickle#my hero academia tickle#mha tickling#bnha tickle#mha bakugo#mha best jeanist#tickletober
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Mayhem (Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader) [Soulmate AU]
Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if youâre interested.
Other oneshots can be found here.
"ęąĘá´ á´Ąá´ęąÉ´'á´ Ęá´á´á´Ę á´ĄÉŞá´Ę á´Ęá´ ęąá´á´ĘĘɪɴɢ Ęá´ęąá´Ęá´ Ęá´á´ ęąĘá´ á´á´á´á´ Ęá´Ę á´Ęá´á´ÉŞęąá´. ęąĘá´ Ęá´ĘĘá´á´
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á´É´ á´ĘÉ´á´á´á´ĘĘ á´ĄĘÉŞá´á´á´É´ 'ę°á´Ęá´á´Ąá´ĘĘ'."
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ÉŞá´ÉŞá´É´á´Ę ÉŞÉ´ę°á´Ęá´á´á´ÉŞá´É´: 1. á´á´á´á´Ę ęąá´á´ÉŞĘá´Ęęą Ęá´É˘á´Ęá´
ɪɴɢ á´Ęá´ á´á´ á´É´á´ęą á´á´ á´Ęá´ Ęá´É˘ÉŞÉ´É´ÉŞÉ´É˘ á´ę° á´Ęᴠɢá´á´á´. 2. á´ĘÉŞęą ÉŞęą ęąá´á´Ęá´á´á´á´ á´á´, á´ĄĘá´Ęá´ á´á´ęąá´ á´á´á´á´Ęá´ (á´Ęá´á´É˘Ę É´á´á´ á´á´ á´ĘĘá´É´á´) á´Ęᴠɢɪę°á´á´á´
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â You lost! Show it! â Gladio shouted right next to [Reader's] ear.
â You cheated â she gasped, clutching the wooden sword.
â All's fair in love and war!
â We're not at war, we're just doing training exercises â the little girl replied.
She wasn't happy with the sparring result but she kept her promise. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing the tattoo on her forearm. The black line formed an ornately written "Farewell"
â I was hoping for something better.
â Do not get smart up. You don't have the skill yourself yet.
â It won't be easy to find a soulmate with something like that. I hope my skill will be better.
The girl didn't want to admit it but she was thinking exactly the same thing. Many people were given simpler instructions. She has always dreamed of a timer or a red thread. They didn't require much attention. Meanwhile, she was given a word that anyone could have said to her.
â Maybe I'll hear my soulmate say goodbye to someone? Or will this be a slogan describing our entire relationship? You know... we'll be such a nice couple that we won't want to be apart?
***
[Reader] stared at the three friends who had come to the training ground. She was glad Noctis wasn't with them.
She thought no one would come here in the middle of the night. She had been able to avoid meetings over the past few days but it seemed like that wasn't the case this time.
â I don't want to talk to you.
She swung her sword, practicing the sequence.
â Listen, you can just sit here for me but he doesn't want to go anywhere without you...
Gladiolus didn't finish his sentence because Prompto kicked him in the ankle with all his might.
â How can you say such things to a girl? â Prompto was outraged. â Sorry, I have to send a text message quickly. â He took out his phone.
Ignis looked at the other two and sighed. He adjusted his glasses. He felt the need to do this whenever he got irritated.
â Why are you avoiding the prince?
â Damn it! We all know why. We are not making idiots of ourselves.
King's Shield was tired. He wanted to put the whole trip behind him. Altissia was far from Insomnia. They had a long journey ahead of them and he felt like he was babysitting Noctis instead of preparing for it.
The prince insisted that he wanted to see [Reader] at his wedding to Lunafreya. He proposed it to her and she awkwardly excused herself and they haven't seen each other since.
â Wait... so we know why she's avoiding him? â Prompto frowned in concentration.
It took him a few seconds to understand what Gladiolus was talking about.
â Aaah... That's what you mean... â He tapped his forehead lightly.
â Let's end this circus. You're coming with us. Even the king said it was a great idea.
â He didn't give me an order.
[Reader] knew she was arguing like a little child but she had a hard time hiding her reluctance.
â Stop being so selfish! â Gladio knocked the training sword out of her hand.
He did it easily. He surpassed her in terms of physical strength. Not to mention his skills were next level.
He froze the moment he saw her face. The moonlight helped him see tears in the corners of his eyes. She turned her head to wipe them gently.
He felt guilty.
They had been friends since childhood.
â Damn it! â He pinched the bridge of his nose. â I'm sorry, okay? I'm just... fed up with it.
Ignis didn't say anything. He looked at him reprimandingly and Gladio realized that he was in for a good sermon. Ignis took an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She accepted it gratefully.
â It's not your fault... none of you... Let's be honest, neither is it Noctis's fault. But so what? Should I be a bridesmaid at a wedding I don't want to see? Watch someone I've been in love with for so many years get married? Congratulate my rival with whom I never stood a chance? I want Noctis to be happy but... that doesn't mean I have to watch it all.
The girl felt all the emotions she had been carrying since the announcement of the engagement slipping away. Grief gripped her heart and the words stuck in her throat. Her fingers tightened around Ignis's handkerchief. There was a deafening silence, broken only by the night chirping of crickets.
The friends looked towards the entrance. She followed their gaze.
He stood there.
â We'll leave you two alone â Prompto suggested.
He hoped [Reader] wouldn't find out that he was the one who notified Noctis via text message. Otherwise he would be in big trouble.
â I think we need to talk â said the prince.
â You didn't overhear everything? â she asked bitterly.
Blue eyes stared at her intensely.
â I want you to tell me about it properly now.
â NO. â She sat down on the stone wall. â Do you know why? Because it doesn't make sense. I won't change anything.
â You know...
â I know! You are responsible for Lucis... And you will be king one day... And you love Lunafreya... And we need this marriage...
Noctis looked at the brightly shining moon above his head.
It was as if in its light he could no longer hide anything.
He felt he had failed as a friend.
He knew for a long time. He just never wanted to let that thought come to the fore. It was easier to push it to the bottom of his mind and tell himself it was just a delusion. He was afraid to face a feeling he didn't reciprocate.
â [Reader], if you had told me earlier...
She felt a pang in her chest. He had no soulmate skill. Fate didn't decide for him. He chose Luna of his own free will.
â I wouldn't change anything. You love each other and I want you to be happy but please â she took a deep breath â don't make me go there. My heart can't bear it.
In her imagination she saw a beautiful bride. Blond curls were tied up in a high bun and the white dress rustled with every step. The Oracle held a bouquet of her favorite blue flowers as she looked for her fiancĂŠ.
Her fingers gripped the stone tightly.
He could give an order if he wanted.
â Then stay... but promise me our friendship won't end like this.
The prince felt that the thread that had connected them for a long time was breaking. He wanted desperately to save it, even though he felt it was over. All the years they spent together were gone.
â I promise that I will come after the wedding, together with your father, when I get myself together a bit. â She headed towards the exit.
â Farewell â he said with a slight smile.
She glanced briefly at the tattoo that had been with her for many years.
She didn't answer him.
***
â What is it about? â Noctis asked.
Ignis entered the room with a newspaper in his hand.
â Read it.
The Fall of Insomnia , said the headline. Gladiolus read it aloud, feeling growing anxiety.
â Is this some joke?
The prince wanted to tear out the newspaper and make sure he had heard correctly.
â There was an attack. The Imperial army has occupied the capital â Gladio continued. â The Treaty Room flashed brightly. Explosions were also heard. When the smoke cleared, the king was found... dead. â Gladio looked up.
â No... But... Wedding... Altissia...
â I know. That was the plan but... all the headlines in town can't be wrong.
Ignis looked at Noctis with regret. There was no way there could be a mistake.
The boy felt his heart beating fast and a cold sweat break out on him.
â Liars! â he shouted. â We have to check that.
â Shall we turn back? â Prompto assured.
â Yes.
***
â Betrayal! Protect His Majesty!
[Reader] managed to kill three opponents before she fell to the ground. Lights flashed all around and a loud explosion deprived her of hearing.
She put her fingers to her chest in surprise. A red, sticky liquid flowed from the deep wound. She tried to make a sound but was interrupted by darkness.
***
â Maybe these will be the last words you hear from him? He'll see you and decide it's time to say goodbye or something â he laughed.
â Gladio, I'm going to kill you!
â I'd like to see you try â said the new, short, dark-haired boy.
He poked his head out from behind one of the pillars and curiously walked to the middle of the training ground.
â I think it's time for me to introduce you to the spoiled prince. Noctis Lucis Caelum and his titles that I don't feel like listing...
#noctis x reader#noctis x luna#oneshot x reader#ffxv x reader#final fantasy xv x reader#gladio x reader#prompto#ignis#unrequited love
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I'm one of those "weirdos" with a "self autonomous" muses, and as one of those weirdos, I think there's a very distinct difference between people like me, and people who use that as an excuse to force their self-insert fantasies. I've generally identified three main categories of roleplayers. People who write CHARACTERS, people who write SELF-INSERTS and/or WISH-FULFILLMENT, and people who write MUSES (and a 4th "people who make blogs but never actually roleplay" but that's irrelevant here). Yes I know "muse" is basically just another word for "inspiration", but hear me out. People who write CHARACTERS are the ones who go through conscious and deliberate decisions on how to write ("I think the character would think and act like this in this situation"), and are more likely to be pre-plotted heavy while sticking to the plot that was decided on without deviating from whatever was agreed upon. If it does deviate, it usually involves a lot of OOC discussion around it. Then there are your SELF-INSERT-y / WISH FULLFILLMENT writers. They aren't writing characters, nor muses. They're writing their projections of their fantasies of what they WANT characters to be, including bending or breaking character to achieve the desired result (Shippers are especially guilty of this). Such people frequently also try to manipulate OTHER PEOPLES' muses into bending/breaking character or manipulate the muns writing their target characters to, once again, achieve their personal fantasy. They might CLAIM to have a "self-autonomous muse" that "does what they want outside of their control", but this is a lie, and you can usually tell when you're dealing with one of these people instead of a Muse writer because that line will be used to excuse disrespecting OOC boundaries and force interactions / writing that other writers are not okay with, even after you've made those boundaries clear. Coercion is a common theme, but some particularly ballsy wish-fulfillment writers will just straight up force things. And then you have your true-blue ("self autonomous") MUSE writers, with characters who "write themselves" without putting much actual thought into it. And Muses can be fun, but they can also be annoying because they will frequently go off the rails at a moment's notice from what you wanted / decided while giving you the fat middle finger, and trying to force them back where you want them to go is tantamount to inciting writers block mutiny. The difference, to me, between the earlier described Wish-Fulfillment writer that pretends their muse "can't be controlled", and the ACTUAL Muse writer, is the Muse writer may not be able to control or change what their Muse wants to say, think, or do, but if it crosses another roleplayers' boundaries (or the writers' own boundaries ; yes, sometimes our muses trespass on OUR boundaries, even tho we write them. Think of it like an unwelcomed intrusive thought), the writer can still choose to NOT WRITE IT. I've written a LOT of Muses over the years. Some of them villainous or straight up nasty. I have also put a lot of Muses in "Time Out", or even retired some entirely and haven't gone back to writing them, because the Muse wanted to go in a certain direction and either 1) it would've crossed another writers' boundaries, or 2) it was something that I didn't want to write even if the OTHER PERSON was okay with it. If the person claiming they "don't control their muse" is using it to coerce or force an interaction you don't desire or are uncomfortable with, yes, THOSE people are just using characters to veil their own personal fantasies and are best AVOIDED (dealt with and seen plenty of THOSE people myself).
But generally, I find that if the OOC WRITER is willing or even WANTS to hard-stop an undesired interaction/thread/whatever should that situation arise (and isn't claiming they want to just to coerce you into agreeing to undesired themes, very important distinction! If you express discomfort and then reluctantly agree and they're TOO eager to get right back to it without considering your feelings, that's a BIG red flag) then chances are they actually do have a "Muse" separate from their personal desires and fantasies. A genuine "Muse controls themselves" writer will happily stick that Muse in the time-out corner if they refuse to behave themselves.
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