#after i explicitly told him i didn't want anything to do with him any more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

that-sokovian-bastard · 1 year

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Your Choice - Jason Todd x (f)Reader

Words: 4116 Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)Reader Warnings: SMUT. Minors DNI! 18+ only!!!! Mean dom Jason, swearing, rope bondage, edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms/forced orgasms, vibrator, teasing, blindfold, nipple play (just a little), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving). Jason is a kinky mf. Summary: After plans for the night change, Jason has an idea to keep you awake. It ends much more evil than you first expected. Author's Note: Truly love that this is my first ever time writing smut and it’s kinky as fuck. I have all the shame in the world and none at the same time. Also they have a safe word it’s just not explicitly discussed in the fic. Anyway, if you know me irl, it’s illegal to read this fic, actually. Don’t look at me. Hope you enjoy.

Jason / Full Masterlist

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Every few minutes, you wondered how you managed to end up in this situation. And just as that thought came into your mind, it was ripped away by being pulled onto the edge. Then, you'd finally calm down enough to get back to contemplating how you even agreed to this...and you were right back on the edge again.

You knew Jason had to go out for patrol. If he missed it again, one of his family members was going to show up at the apartment in worry. And you definitely didn't need anyone to show up while being with Jason. You two had plans for tonight, but he ended up getting called on patrol. You tried to convince him to tell the team no, but he said he couldn’t and that you guys would just have your fun when he returned. But you were worried you wouldn’t be able to stay up the entire time before he got back, and you wouldn’t want to wake up when he returned. So, as he got ready to leave, he told you he had an idea of how you could keep yourself awake while he was gone without any worry.

Whatever his idea was, you expected it to be fun and a little evil. He reminded you that at any point as he was setting up, you could tell him to stop, and he would drop everything, but he would be leaving for patrol eventually, and you’d be in the bedroom alone for a while. He was very clear.

Jason told you to undress as he pulled out some rope, instructing you to lay on the bed before he got to work. Working fast to not be late to patrol, he tied your wrists to either side of the headboard and your ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. You laughed a little when he finished and looked down at you. “Uh, Jason?” You said, tugging at the ropes to test their strength. “I’m pretty sure me being stuck like this is only going to encourage me to fall asleep,” You reminded him, cocky about your position.

He smirked in response, and you knew you were in for it. “Who said I was done?” He turned and walked to the dresser against the wall where he grabbed the rope from earlier. Before you knew it, he turned back around, and you couldn’t see what he grabbed. However, you didn’t have to let your mind guess for long as he quickly put the small vibrator right below your clit. He secured it with thinner rope wrapped around your leg to make sure that none of your struggles could dislodge it, then stood back to admire you before he turned it on.

“Pretty sure this will also make me pass out,” You tried again to be cocky.

“Why do you act like I don’t know what I’m doing?” He scoffed and turned on the vibrator to its lowest setting, causing you to gasp ever so slightly in response. “I know for a fact this won’t do anything except keep you alert and awake. But if you really think you won’t be able to focus on only it…,” Jason trailed off and grabbed one more thing from the dresser. When he came back to the side of the bed, he slipped the black blindfold over your eyes and, even though you couldn’t see it, cracked the most satisfied grin as he watched you.

He could tell you were already starting to hold back from letting your body react to the subtle vibrations. Jason didn’t say anything as he finished putting on his gear, slowly, enjoying the background noise full of your suppressed whimpers. He slipped on his jacket, pulled on his gloves, and placed the domino mask on his face. Jason set his helmet on the top of the dresser near the window he usually left out of but stood next to you once more before he left.

“I’m about to leave. This is your last chance to opt out,” He said to you, entirely serious.

It took you a second, but after a breath, you managed a quick nod. “I’m, yeah. I’m good.”

“If you say so,” He shrugged and headed back to the dresser, grabbing his helmet and slipping it on. “Oh, and darling?” Jason called as he was halfway out. You hummed in response, and he continued, “I’m leaving the window open, so I’d keep it down. See you later.”

You couldn’t even fully blame Jason at this point. He told you what to expect. He warned you. He warned you that you’d be alone with no escape until he got home, which, while he was hoping it was a quick patrol, could’ve ended up taking much longer. But you thought you could take it. Now, a few hours later, you’re starting to wonder if you underestimated the situation.

Frankly, you had lost track of time with the amount of thoughts circling through your head. It could’ve only been an hour so far, but you’re sure that it’s been more. You didn’t know and kind of didn’t care, either, as there was nothing you could do about it. Earlier in the night, you thought that maybe Jason put in a failsafe that if you really needed out, you could pull hard enough, but nothing worked. Not that you really wanted to get out, though; you were just testing. All you could do was wait.

So, you continued to wait, hyper-aware of all the noises happening around you. You had to listen very carefully since the blindfold over your eyes blocked that sense. It was hard to differentiate what was happening inside your apartment and outside since the window was still open, and the cool breeze was hitting your bare skin just right.

The cool breeze also reminded you that you had to keep quiet. Even though you were on the third floor, if you were loud enough, someone could hear you and welcome themselves in through the open window. It would have been difficult since it isn't a direct shot to the fire escape from your window, but you also didn't need random people (or vigilantes) imagining what was going on inside your and Jason's bedroom.

Finally, you heard a creek come from the window. "Jay...Jason?" You breathily called out, hoping he was finally back. When there wasn't a response, you groaned about the wind tricking you again, which resulted in a low laugh from someone in the room. He really was trying to fuck with your mind, too, by sneaking in, it seemed.

"Don't...don't do that," You said, not entirely clear on what you didn't want him to do.

You couldn't see Jason leaning against the corner of the room, his helmet already off and arms crossed as he watched you writhe and pull at the rope around your wrists and ankles. He didn't respond to your pleas but waited for you to reach the edge again before he said anything, fully making himself known.

"Wow," He marveled at the sight in front of him. "Someone just left you tied up here, did they?" He teased. You didn't respond, you couldn't, as you rode the edge but never making it over. He waited again before continuing, this time shutting the window and making sure you heard it so you knew you could be louder. "I can't believe they would do that to you. Leaving you all by your lonesome, tired and needy," Jason said as he walked closer. He stood at the foot of the bed and watched your back arch every few seconds, trying to get anything.

Jason was proud of himself. You hated to admit it, but he was right about this whole situation being enough to keep you awake while he was gone.

"Come on, don't you have anything to say about the mean person who just left you here? What a crazy criminal, right?" He taunted.

Again, you didn't respond. You could barely keep track of what he was saying. Jason knew it and leaned forward to touch your thigh with his gloved hand, lightly rubbing the top of it to encourage a response.

"R-right," You breathed out, almost a gasp. "It was...it was very mean of them."

"Then you got lucky that I showed up, sweetheart," Jason said, still slowly rubbing your thigh.

You took a deep breath as you prepared to respond again. "My," You started, pausing for a second before continuing. "My hero."

Jason pulled his hand back instantly and laughed again. "Hero? Oh, no. I'm no hero," He said, walking around the side of the bed and leaning in close to your ear. "I'm much, much worse."

Heat fluttered to your chest as Jason’s words hit you, and the buzzing below intensified. You hadn’t even realized he hit the button to turn up the vibrator’s level, pulling you back to the edge of an orgasm as you arched your back off the bed again, but this time, you were stuck there. The sudden change in power pulled you right where he wanted you. It kept you where he wanted you.

You heard Jason laugh from the corner of the bed now. You knew you looked pathetic, not able to calm down and not able to find release, but you couldn’t control it anymore. Jason peeled off his gloves as he watched you struggle, pulling at your wrists as hard as possible. “You’ve made such a mess already,” He stated. “How long has your captor left you like this?”

He was pleased when you didn’t respond, knowing the power he held over you right now. With his bare hand, he touched your thigh again but moved to the inside instead of staying on top. “I asked you a question, sweetheart. How long has your captor left you like this?”

It took a moment for you to get the words out, but Jason was patient. “I don’t know,” You spit out, almost as one word.

“No idea? Well, that’s a shame,” He sighed. “If it had been a long time, I would make sure to get you that release you so desperately need. But if you don’t know, it very well can’t be that long,” He continued to let his fingers circle your inner thigh, but staying far enough away from what you wanted to continue to tease you. “I think we can have some more fun before all that.”

“No,” You managed to get out, but Jason ignored it, knowing that no didn’t mean for him to stop. He had both his hands trailing your inner thighs now, only adding to his fun and your sensitivity. You could feel the bed dip when he kneeled between your spread legs, but still not close enough to you. He finally stopped teasing your thighs, but since he was closer now, his hands went up your body to your waist, your ribs, and your breasts. He circled all over your bare skin, some areas warm with need, some still cool from the late-night breeze. Of course, Jason knew how long you were like this, and even though it was longer than he was originally planning, he was going to make you wait just a little longer for having such doubt in him earlier when he was setting you up. He leaned forward, and you could feel both his hands dig into the bed beside your chest, and he was nearly straddling you, making sure to stay far enough away that you couldn’t feel him unless he wanted you to.

Jason leaned down to plant kisses on your neck and trailed down the center of your body, stopping just under your belly button. When he pulled back from your stomach, he realized you were still arching your back off the bed, and he couldn’t have that. You felt the hand to the right of you leave the bed, then land gently on your chest as he pushed slightly, making your back flush with the bed again. He kept his hand there, locking you down and making the vibrations much stronger as you couldn’t move anything with him holding you.

“Jay,” You breathed out, catching his attention.

“Hmm?” He half-heartedly replied. It took you a moment to figure out what you wanted to say, so he prompted you. “Come on, use your words.”

“Please,” You begged, but you couldn’t say more than just the one word.

So Jason decided to play dumb. “Please, what?” He posed. “That could mean a million different things, sweetheart; I need you to clarify.”

He still had his hand holding you down as he waited for your response. As he waited, he tapped his fingers to remind you that his hand was there, and it was not moving until you said something. “Please, I need…I’m so close,” You finally managed to breathe out, begging him for any extra attention to get you over the edge.

“Need?” Jason asked. “What do you need me to do?”

He waited again, not moving, not even tapping his fingers. But he pressed the button on the vibrator again, turning it up another level to encourage you to tell him exactly what you wanted. He knew you were having a hard time with words, and he was enjoying the sight as your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find them.

“Need,” You barely managed to say. “Touch, oh my god, Jason.”

“Touch? Baby, I’m already touching you, remember?” He tapped his fingers again, his hand still on your chest, right below your breasts. As the vibrations got more intense, you reacted harder, trying to pull your legs together for some friction and arching your back off the bed for some movement. But your legs were still secure to the corners of the bed, and Jason pushed down just a little rougher when he realized you were fighting against his hand.

“Oh,” He dragged out as you continued reacting, pretending like he just came to a realization. “You want me to touch you somewhere else? You should have said so.”

You grunted in response, confirming what he said. “If I let go, you have to keep your back on the bed, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded to tell him you understood. “If you don’t, I’ll have to stop.”

The threat of stopping worried you because you weren’t sure how much restraint you had now, and it would only get worse when he started touching you in other places. You were hoping he’d go straight down to your pussy to give you what you wanted right away, but he wasn’t being that nice. Instead, his hand moved up from its place below your chest and onto your right breast, fiddling with it slowly. He gently massaged you, pulling strangled moans, and you worked as hard as you could to stay still. He rolled your nipple between his calloused fingers, and you thought the onslaught was over when he released your sensitive nipple and landed his hand on the bed next to your right side.

But just as you took a second to breathe, his other hand came off the bed, and he repeated his movements on your left breast. He knew he was torturing you with his slow movements, making you wait even longer for release. Jason could see you struggling to keep still and hold yourself to the bed.

When he finished with your breasts, he decided you finally had had enough, and he’d move lower. He kept moving slowly, using one finger to track down your body as he leaned back. He brushed right over your clit, touched the vibrator for a little extra pressure, then stopped right before your entrance. He circled a few times, very slowly, enjoying the sight before him.

You gasped as he circled. “Jason, please,” You begged, and this time, he happily obliged. He loved hearing you beg, but you’ve already given him so much that he was ready to help you. Jason watched your face as he slowly inserted two fingers, taking his time but making you feel good. You could barely focus on his fingers because you were so focused on keeping your back on the bed, and he could tell you were struggling.

Jason reached his other hand up and laid it on your stomach, pushing down to keep you where you were so you weren’t worrying as much. You still had to focus to not move the top half of your back, but he was trying to help. Unfortunately, by him holding your stomach, it meant that he only had one hand to touch you with, and it was already preoccupied inside you.

Jason’s fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew just one right move would send you in to your wave of orgasm, and he was having fun seeing how long he could make you hold on. You tried your hardest to keep your moans quiet, but he heard every single one of them. “Faster,” You begged through a moan, and Jason’s fingers paused.

“Are you telling me what to do?” He asked. Jason knew he was fucking with you in more ways than one, going from asking you to tell him what you wanted, to telling you to stop asking; he loved to change the rules. You hummed in response to his question, sounding like a suppressed no so that he would keep moving. “That’s what I thought.”

He started again, even slower than before, and it was killing you. “Just so you know,” Jason said as he kept moving his fingers. “Once you start, I’m not planning on letting you stop any time soon. How does that sound?” He asked, but your mind was such a blur at this point you couldn’t respond with anything besides a moan or a whimper. “So, do you want to start now or keep waiting?”

You whined again, but that didn’t satisfy Jason. “I need you to tell me. Do you want me to make you orgasm now, or do you want to wait?” He asked again, still slowly pumping his fingers. You weren’t sure how he was sitting on the bed, but you could tell he was still on his knees and probably leaned forward because you were sure you could feel his breath on your pussy. “Answer me.”

The hardest part was that you weren’t sure what you wanted. An orgasm right now sounded great, but you knew that he would keep his promise and you’d be oversensitive in seconds with as fast as he could pull them from you. But it would also be hell to wait because he knows all your tells. “If you don’t answer right now, then I’m going to pick,” He warned, which was the secret third option you knew you didn’t want, because his picking always ended with utter torture.

“N-now,” You decided in a snap, immediately not sure if that was the wisest choice.

As soon as you said it, Jason’s fingers inside you began to pick up their pace and hit nearly all the right spots. And you were right; you knew he was right in front of you, because he leaned in and over the small vibrator to immediately start sucking on your clit. The sudden change in pace and addition of his mouth made you scream, pulling at each of your secured limbs, barely able to get any movement. His other hand still held your stomach, but the top of your back and head arched off the bed in reaction. Luckily, Jason didn’t let up as he finally guided you off the edge and into a full-blown orgasm.

It continued to rush over you, heat spreading throughout your entire body as Jason continued to suck, lick, touch, kiss, and even laugh and talk into you. You couldn’t make out any of what he was saying through your loud noises; you just knew that the vibrations of his laughter and speech were mixing with the still-on vibrator, and you knew there would be no coming down for a while. You tried to buck your hips, but everything mixed together kept your hips in place just as tight as your limbs were. The vibrator, just like it had been for the last few hours, stayed exactly where Jason tied it, and he had no intention of taking it off.

“Jason…Jason,” You called out over and over, barely having any time to breathe before you orgasmed again. “Hang on,” You said.

“I told you what was going to happen,” He said after he lifted his head from between your legs, making sure you could hear him. “This was your choice. You chose this.”

He waited to hear your response for a moment. Though he may have stopped attacking your clit, his fingers were still inside you, moving around in all directions. “Just…” You said. “I need…a second.”

“If I gave you a second, then I’d be breaking my promise of not letting you stop,” Jason said and didn’t wait anymore, his mouth right back on you, making you scream his name out again through another orgasm. As you came down a few moments later, he pulled his face back. “I’ll give you another choice. How does that sound?” He asked.

“O-okay.”

“I can either return to what I was doing, or I can move the vibrator,” He said. You waited to see if there was any clarification, but there wasn’t, and he was waiting for your answer. You knew there was a chance that he didn’t clarify because he wanted you to choose and screw yourself over, but you knew there would be no refuge if his mouth returned to your clit. Your choice was harder to decide in your mind because Jason never stopped moving his fingers in and out, in and out…

“Do you want me to choose?” He asked, pulling you back to reality.

You shook your head and yelled out your answer. “The vibrator!” You decided. “Move the…move the vibrator.”

You couldn’t see his pleased smile, and you sighed loudly in relief when Jason’s fingers exited you. You hoped that by move, he meant to get rid of it entirely, but you feared for the worst. Especially with how mean he was being tonight. As you thought about it, either answer was going to end the same way: he was going to keep you orgasming over and over.

You finally had a chance to catch up with yourself as he loosened the rope that held the vibrator on you, and it detached from your pussy. For a few seconds, you were just laying there, legs shaking in their binds. Jason loved watching your chest heave, and your legs shake as you still tried to pull at your wrists, but he couldn’t admire you for too long. Your worst fear came true as he tightened the rope again, this time leaving the vibrator sitting directly on your clit. You gasped out immediately, only groaning more when Jason pressed the button a few times to turn it on to its highest setting.

“Remember, you chose this,” He reminded you as you made your way into another orgasm. You continued to try to move your legs and hands, but still with no escape, as he made sure the ropes would never give way. You noticed when the dip in the bed between your legs let up, meaning Jason got off the bed. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but a moment later, you felt his rough hand on your chin.

He leaned in, slowly kissing you through your moans and groans. As he pulled back, you could feel the soft smile on his face. “You’re doing so good, baby,” He said under his breath, almost breaking his character.

His hand left your chin, and you were worried he was going to leave you alone again. “Jay?” You called out.

“I’m still here. Just watching the show for a few minutes, then we’ll continue,” He said, and your eyes widened behind the blindfold.

“Con…continue?” You asked. You were certain that this was the beginning of the end of all of this. There was more he had planned?

Jason smiled again, though you couldn’t see it. “Of course. You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

“I-” You stopped when you were pushed into another orgasm caused by a mix of the vibrator and Jason’s words.

“Baby, we’re just getting started,” He said, making sure you heard it over your loud moan, excited for the rest of the night.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #dc #dc imagines #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #dc fanfic #imagines #batman #smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut

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trippinsorrows · 3 months

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looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

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

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

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

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired.

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase.

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion.

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything.

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all.

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever.

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her.

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it.

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done.

At least since the murder of their mother.

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth.

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this.

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does.

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done.

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine.

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space.

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability.

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess.

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped.

He’s pissed.

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?”

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother.

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s.

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him.

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her.

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet.

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.”

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial.

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience.

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary.

And the day isn’t even halfway over.

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message.

Roman: Come over tonight.

As expected, her reply comes almost right away.

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline.

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people.

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well.

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen.

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves.

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity.

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in.

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops.

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons.

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors.

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger.

“Where’s the room?”

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest.

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance.

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room.

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts.

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning.

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located.

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper.

And that’s exactly what happens.

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one.

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse.

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection.

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight.

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though.

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.”

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go.

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome.

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.”

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face.

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing.

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.”

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable.

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store.

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is.

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked.

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary.

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t.

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more.

He’s ignored them everytime.

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight.

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight.

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…”

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected.

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone.

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized.

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?” His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all.

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him.

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest.

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

—-----

Roman finds her out back on the patio.

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone.

And she is.

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day.

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him.

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about.

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

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

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mitsua · 1 month

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Redamancy

Loving someone who loves you back.

🪼: so this was supposed to be an Izuku snapping at reader but I couldn't bring myself to write about this man being mad... I´m sorry not sorry but maybe in the future I could actually get that done. Maybe? Idk today I wanted to cry myself to sleep.

Warnings: rude people, mentions of self-depricating thoughts (but none explicitly written), low self-steem, crying

Genre: reverse comfort Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × GN! Y/N Words' count: 1.26k

Izuku's known as a selfless man, a selfless hero—your selfless hero at that.

He's always looking out closely while on patrol to do not let the slightest suspicious thing get out of his sight and catch danger in any form that may present itself, day by day.

People recognize him, greet him, smile polightly, shout excitedly, ask for a photograph with him, a signature—yes, his status has really given him a grand popularity.

But just as much as he greets back, gives small chats, returns a bright smile, shouts back, takes photographs and gives off signatures, he also encounters rude people every once in a while.

He brushes it off, he really tries to when it does so happen.

His first thought being 'they might just have a bad day, everyone has it!', always empathazing and letting people's disrespect get lost in the wind.

Until that wind comes back in a hurricane when the bad day hits him instead.

He brushes it off, or so he thinks. But he knows and you know too—everything anyone's ever told him got into him one way or another.

Thus making him the person you're so proud of to call today your husband, yes, you admit Izuku has this great mindset of turning the imposible—even if it's with tiny steps—a little more possible with progress.

He has a contagious positivity, you know it and he knows it.

'Then why can't I be positive today too? They need reassurance,' he thinks as he just got on a mission out of the city on places were being too powerful or too weak were seen badly.

He's tried greeting, smiling, but has only received scoffs and some offensive comments towards heroes in general. A tiny percentage of the poblation going too far and talking about him in specific being the last drop to spill the glass.

He gets in his hotel room—after being ignored by the workers when he entered and gave a small 'goodnight' out of his habit of being polite—plops in the bed and moves his hands to rest on top of his eyes.

'Don't cry,' he pleads himself. 'They're way more debastated here, you must show a reassuring attitude to let them see heroes mean no harm.'

A tear falls, then a second one and a third one.

It's not until he's fully sobbing with all the harsh emotions he bottled up in the day or even when he was still in the city that he hears his phone had your shared favorite song as your contact's ringtone that he stops spiralling further. A videocall from you.

"Hi! I just wanted to call to tell you goodnight quickly, I know you must be tire-" a sob. You heard him sob once, then twice.

"Izuku?" You got worried, he still hadn't said anything and he got his camera turned to the ceiling that could barely be seen due to the lack of light in the room.

Thinking he might have had a rough day you come up with a quick plan to help him.

"Hey, I know you're usually the one talking but I'll kindly request to do so tonight," you ask and even though he didn't answer either way you spoke again, "alright, and-well, I know I said I'll talk but I'd like to do something else as well..."

For a moment there was complete silence, then bed sheets being shifted around and a couple of grunts coming from your side. It gave Izuku's mind the chance to start wondering towards self-depricating thoughts again, until he heard something close to a documental.

"Aaand with that final blow Pro-hero Deku achieves victory and citizens' safety once again! ...Watch him throw his fist in the air meaning peace has been brought to us again!" A male commenter's vivid voice declared. "Deku helped a grown adult cross the sidewalk, look at this cute pictures!" Then a female's. "Oh, I'd kill to get Deku to patrol in my city," a foreigner's voice mentioned exhasperatedly.

You were showing him a copilation of videos fans of his had made of all his greatest and little heroic actions. Each of them spoke so highly of him—discussed and analyzed his movements and in-the-moment decisions through and through—just as he once did with the heroes he admired. He now was one of them, people admire him.

He could see and feel people's positivity reaching out to him, to help him too. By now, his tears had stopped, only a few sniffles could be heard.

"And last but not least," you whispered to do not break the comforting low volume tonight's call has had, "So, what do you think about Deku?" a reporter's voice. Izuku perked up at this and you internally celebrated you could see more of his face now that he's grabbed his phone with both hands and brought them closer to watch the video you were reproducing in your laptop.

He recalled that voice and that question. "The kindest and brightest people I've ever met, really." You answered.

This interview had been made by fans all across the country once the news about Deku's fiancé were leaked out. You turned to admire Izuku who had been surrounded with more paparazzi. The camera caught it all.

He remembered hearing that voice only faintly behind him.

You've both had been returning from a date and (un)fortunately been caught by a fan of his. People crashing into each other to get a hold of you two. They managed to separate you from him to interrogate you individually as on their plans.

But once he started politely answering some of their questions, he couldn't hear anything else than his voice and cameras' clicking.

You never told him they had interviewed you too, how could he not seen or thought about that?

Izuku observed keenly through the whole thing. You only spoke praises and your eyes, oh your eyes, they kept solely on his form.

Sure, you apologized a couple of times for going out of topic or speaking too much—'just as I'd do,' he thought—but kept on doing it seemingly in an unconscious manner.

"Why'd you choose Deku?" their last question. "Izuku, he has taught me about many good things in life I can no longer count them with both hands, he's been the sweetest and most honest being I've known-also, a greatly empathetic and understanding person, and for that I admire him even more, but also know about some of his struggles and as my love grows stronger each day my heart begs to help him, I want to help him too."

Your eyes got glassy as you spoke, the people got silent, internally crying for such words from you and both of you being so lucky for being with each other. As some started cheering you both and cooing, you'd made it closer to him until you could catch him by surprise in the middle of his last question with a peck on his cheek.

Then the screen turned black.

Now you both were sniffling...

"I love you Izuku, I really hope I can show you and help you just as much as you've done for me." You expressed firmly, closing your laptop and smiling through some tears.

"Thank you, thank you so much-I-I really appreciate I do-don't know what to say-" "-don't worry, there's no need Izuku, I, I just hope my message has gotten through..."

"It did," now that he had the screen closer, it enlighted a bit more his face and you could see him smiling too. "I love you too."

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radio-writes · 6 months

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Hi, will u do a human alastor x side mistress reader, so basically he has a wife, but he doesn't really love her, so when he's on the air he has sex with his side mistress in the radio tower. His side mistress knows he's a serial killer, by the way. You don't have to do this if u don't want to. I love ur fics.

By the Gold Ring on His Hand

Synopsis: He loved you and only you. You were his to cherish, to adore, to worship. Sweet words he whispered softy, promisingly, into your ear. Sweet words he also whispered softly to his wife.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of murder, heavy manipulation, cheating

Tags: human!alastor, alastor x reader, gn!reader, reader is the other wo/man

MDNI

You've always revered Alastor.

You were entranced by the way his smile never broke. The way he seemed to take control of any situation he was put in. The he always managed to just charm the socks off of anyone he's ever met.

You loved the way he made little corny jokes. You loved the way he danced—barely drunk from the bottles of rye he downed.

And oh, did you love the way he spoke.

You could listen to him all day on the radio, just absolutely smitten and melting where you stood.

The one thing you didn't love about Alastor—the one thing you despised, really—was his wife.

That naive little thing. So meek, so quiet. You always hated the way she would cling onto his arm at parties. Loathed the way she'd shyly smile at everyone, including you.

There was just no way that delicate stupid girl could satisfy someone like Alastor.

Alastor needed, deserved, a real partner. One that had enough of a spine not to be stepped on, at the very least.

Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him more; to caress his thighs that perfectly framed your head. You wanted to feel him beneath you, reassure your heart that he was here with you.

You groaned as your longing was denied. You felt Alastor press his shoes harder against your hands, pinning your palms to the floor. The fingers in your hair tightened their grip, guiding you more strictly down his cock.

It was enough to cheer you up a little. Although your touch was declined, the little vibrations your sounds made clearly still had an effect on him. You felt a little proud knowing something as small as you moaning around him pleasured the hefty cock in your mouth.

The reality was far more bitter, though. Not that Alastor would ever let you know that.

Truth be told his grip was a warning. He had explicitly told you to be quiet, to keep your hands to yourself. But you seemed to be so adamant on testing his patience today, as you were refusing to do both.

Alastor's smile strained just a tad bit more in annoyance as he spoke into the microphone. "Hate to finish up the broadcast with some sour news, but someone's gotta keep you lovely folks up to date!"

You continued to bob your head between his legs, hidden from the rest of crew by the control panel. You made sure to drag the flat of your tongue over the under side of Alastor's dick each every time you lowered your mouth to his crotch. If your ministrations did anything for him, you couldn't really tell.

His voice was perfect, not a tone out of place as he continued his broadcast. You've never seen a man so well put together while having someone's mouth serve them so reverently.

"Seems the coppers found a couple more for the good old wooden kimonos last night. Grizzly sight it was—so I heard. Hate to be the ones to dig those poor souls out."

Even though he was the one to put them there in the first place, you suppressed a laugh. Not that you were complaining, though. It was part of how you and Alastor finally got together, after all.

Alastor finished up his broadcast, and you continued your slow little prayer on your knees. He waved his staff away when they tried to approach, simply sending them off with a friendly jest that he'd meet them at the bar after he cleaned up his work station.

It was only when the lock clicked behind his crew did Alastor finally acknowledge you. His lovely smile was intact, but you could tell his mood was a little soured by the way his brown eyes narrowed at you from behind his glasses.

The hand gripping your hair pulled you off his cock, a pathetic whine escaping your lips as he did so.

Alastor tried to ignore the—rather off putting—sight of a thin string of fluids connecting your mouth to the head of his dick. He bent down closer to you, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

"My dear, I thought I told you to be quiet while I worked." His voice was as sweet as ever.

You chuckled lightly, you wanted to move your hands to cup his cheek, bring him even closer to you. Perhaps even for a kiss to lift his seemingly bad mood.

The moment Alastor so much as felt your fingers twitch, he stepped harder on your hands again, keeping them pinned to the floor and away from him.

You opted to shrug your shoulders sheepishly instead. "I may have gotten carried away," You responded coyly "You just taste so good."

Alastor did his best not to cringe, choosing to tighten his smile. Ah, you were in one of your moods again, he thought.

"Then why don't you go ahead and have your fill of me now." His hand left the back of your head, resting instead on the sides of his chair as he leaned back. The gold band on his ring finger momentarily caught the light and drew your attention to it.

Your chest tightened just the slightest bit. You absolutely hated the reminder that Alastor wasn't fully yours. That he'd still go home to his stupid wife at the end of the day.

But not for long, at least that's what Alastor had promised you. And not right now.

You ran your tongue along the thick vein of his cock, from the bottom, up its shaft, and smiled at the sight of his hips bucking up to your touch.

"In your mouth now again, darling." It didn't sound like a request, but you obeyed faithfully anyway. You were rewarded with a soft sigh as you welcomed him back in your warm mouth.

You'd bet your job that his sweet little wife never pleased him like this. Skittish thing like that would probably run at the thought of putting her lips on a hard dick.

Well, her loss is your gain.

You were so far gone in your own head that you hadn't even noticed Alastor wasn't looking at you.

No, instead his head craned towards the ceiling of his studio, eyes closed and tired.

He was trying to focus on the physical sensations you brought him, not that he had much of an interest in it in the first place, but he tried hard to concentrate. All he had to do was finish, and he could finally leave. Leave you here with some sweet promises, and not have to deal with your disgustingly loving gaze on him until maybe his next shift on Monday.

Not that spending time with his wife at home felt any more appealing.

He pushed the thoughts away, willing his mind to stay on you instead. He thought he can finish, at least he could feel the bottom of his gut tightening just a tiny fair bit.

He focused on the way your tongue felt as it swirled around him. How your lips stretched so softly to fit his shaft. How you practically drooled over his cock. How you—

You were noisier now that you knew you were alone, and it wasn't doing Alastor any favors. A rather loud moan cutting through his mind and it almost made the coil in his gut loosen completely, his shoulders tensing instead.

No, no this just wouldn't do. He had much more interesting plans tonight than to sit there and buy your silence with his cock.

His hand reached out once more, much less gentle than it was before. With less grace and care, Alastor's hand rested on the back of your neck, before harshly pushing you down as he bucked his hips up.

Your eyes were wide, a surge of panic filled you at the suddenness of the sensation. His dick hit the back of your throat and you tried to pull back immediately.

Alastor's other hand came up to the back of your head to push you back down. Your nose pressed firmly to his skin as his cock pushed past your throat.

Your arms strained as you tried to use your hands to push him away, but Alastor merely stepped on your fingers harsher to get you to stay.

"Ah, fuck, darling. Stay like that. Oh that's lovely." You thought you heard him say.

He was finally looking down at you. The way you heaved as you choked on him. The way your body spasmed to get away. The way panic filled your pretty tearful eyes.

Your throat tightening around him as you tried desperately to breathe felt miles better than whatever you were trying to do before, and it was exactly what he needed.

"Finally," He breathed out softly, almost in a moan, feeling the coil in his gut finally snap. He pressed you down, just the tiniest bit more and you felt his warm seed flow down your willing throat.

"There we go, dear." Alastor's harsh grip in your hair loosened, slowly petting through your locks. The hand on your neck remained, locking you in and rendering you unable to pull free.

Your eyes flickered up to him, part of you ready to beg for mercy, but one sight of his dazed smile made you pliant. Your body relaxed into his touch, simply letting him ride his high out with your bruised throat.

He must have just gotten carried away, that's all. Simply something new he never got to do with his stupid wife.

You felt his softening dick slowly pull out of you, his shaft dragging across your tongue and you finally pulled free with a choked gasp of air.

A gentle hand tipped your face back to meet Alastor's before you could be too dramatic. He pressed a gentle, chaste, kiss to the corner of your lips to calm you.

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear. Your body just makes me feel far too good—just couldn't hold back." The charm practically oozed from his smooth tongue.

Your gaze softened immediately. Your hands, now free from beneath his feet, made their way to his cheeks but he easily pulled back.

Really, what on earth made you think he'd let you touch him with filthy hands. Had you forgotten he'd been stepping on them this entire time? Kind of rude, if you'd ask him.

Not that any of those thoughts showed when Alastor simply, gently, helped you up to your feet by your elbow.

"Always so good to me, my dear. How I got so lucky to have a divine thing like you service me, I'd never know." He stood up with you, part of him did enjoy it whenever he got to look down on you in a more literal sense.

He pressed his body against yours, arms on the control panel behind you as he caged you in. His lips barely grazed your ears as he continued his sweet, sweet, praises. "Why couldn't you have shown up sooner, dear? I would have had it all."

You placed your hand on his chest, failing to notice the way he flinched at the touch. "You still could, you know? All you have to do is leave that naive little thing and I could give you this every night." Your voice was low, seductive, alluring.

Alastor held back an annoyed groan. This again. His eyes rolled, not that you could see it with his head nuzzling against your shoulder.

"We both know I treat you so much better." You continued, hand trailing up to scratch at the hair at the bottom of his neck. "And I'd never hold you back from that little hobby of yours either."

He chuckled at that, you could feel his lips at the base of your neck. "My dear, we've been through this." His kisses were soft, gentle, barely touching you, just like how he preferred it. "You don't have to feel so threatened by her, it's you that I want."

"Then why don't you—"

A gasp passed your lips.

"Leave her?" Alastor continued your sentence when you couldn't. His warm tongue licked over the reddened skin he bit. "I will, my dear, I will. Things are just a bit complicated at the moment."

More complicated than you knew, really.

He couldn't leave his wife because her dad was a big boss of his station. His ass would be out on the streets in minutes if he ever hurt that shy doll.

But he couldn't just kill you either. Not when your dad was the town sheriff.

He was lucky you were so obsessed with him that fucking you once in a while was enough to keep your pretty little mouth shut.

Honestly, just fuck the day you caught him slicing that man's flesh. That scum was hardly worth all the trouble he now has to go through.

"But I'm working on it." Alastor promised as he finally pulled away from you.

You gazed up into his warm, honest eyes. You adored the way he towered over you, really. It's like you fit together so perfectly—like puzzle pieces, was it? Was that how that cheesy line went.

"And then we can be together?" Your palms move to cup his face, and Alastor caught them on instinct before they could.

But you didn't notice, not when he corrected his actions so smoothly by pressing his lips to your knuckles instead—he tried his best to ignore how filthy they are, just to hide his mistake. "Of course, darling. In fact, I think I can work things out by tonight."

Your father was going to be alone at the station.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, my dear. Soon all of this hiding and sneaking around will be a thing of the past." He said, almost with the same amount of excitement as you.

He couldn't wait to toss your body in a ditch next to your old man's corpse.

"But I musn't be late"

He'll miss his chance to slit your father's throat if he lingered any longer.

"Soon you wouldn't have to be jealous of my wife, dear."

After all, the dead don't envy do they?

Alastor willed himself to humor you one last time, pressing his lips to yours before he bid you a good night.

He couldn't have rushed out that door any faster.

Who would have known trying to keep his cover would have eaten up so much of his time? He barely had any left to do the very act he was even trying to cover for.

Honestly, how troublesome.

But no matter, no matter.

He glanced back at the station. He could vaguely see your lovestruck figure through the window. He watched amusedly as you pathetically held your fingers to your lips, absolutely lost on cloud nine.

It won't be long until he was rid of you, and that fact was enough to lift his sour mood.

#tw: mentions of murder #tw: heavy manipulation #tw: cheating #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor smut #gn!reader #vien writes #I'm sorry i made alastor want to kill you #i just couldn't see him wanting a mistress for any other reason besides this #alastor only fucks to fuck with people in my book if that makes sense #if the smut seems choppy y'all can blame susan

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year

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You the oneshot where the reader didn't have a choice until batfam rescued him . I kinda want to see the batfam reactions to the thighs he didn't get to experience like chocolate, cartoons and a birthday that shocked them the most and what's even worse is that readers handler just sends him to a very difficult mission like a deserted island to fend for himself on his birthday which reader didn't know about

Aww, some family fluff... You got it my dear anon. Also, the request season has started.

Summary: (Y/N) told his family about his lack of experience with usual stuff. Even more with his birthday. Absolutely no one is having it.

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2, PART 3,

Warnings: Fluff, family wants to kill someone, mentions of missions from (Y/N)'s past.

After saving (Y/N) from his handler, it was obvious that he didn't... Indulge in certain things as any normal kids would. Sure, Damian didn't too, considering his upbringing, but (Y/N) was on a whole another level of not knowing anything.

It started with chocolate. Alfred has made some chocolate cake out of nowhere and he called the others down to eat if they wanted too. Of course, everyone would do so. I mean, who wouldn't want to try Alfred's delicious creations?

Everyone jumped at the news, basically pushing each others out of the way. (Y/N) didn't understand why they would do it. It's just food. He walked in confused, sitting down. He frowned at the sight of a chocolate cake.

" What's wrong (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, digging into the sugary delight.

" I never had anything with chocolate before. I wasn't allowed to have sugar. " (Y/N) confessed and Jason nearly choked on his piece.

" No. " Jason said, in complete and utter disbelief. Everyone glanced at (Y/N), also shocked that he has never had sugar. Of any kind probably.

" How about you try it? " Bruce prompted and Alfred put a chocolate cake in front of (Y/N). He took a fork and put it in his mouth and everyone saw how gingerly he tried it.

It seemed he liked it by the way his eyes widened and the way he relaxed.

" Do you like it? " Bruce asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

" I think I would like a second slice. " (Y/N) admitted and Alfred smiled widely. It's a win and progress. (Y/N) is never the one to voice what he wants and making him explicitly say what he wants is like pulling teeth.

" Of course master (Y/N), but I'm afraid you can't have more than two per day. " Alfred said, already putting some rules down.

" Okay. " (Y/N) said. Bruce decided to put some rules down because rules are all he knows. But they were very relaxed rules. Such as at least 8 hours of sleep, some exercise and a healthy amount of vegetables.

(Y/N) is kind of afraid of Alfred. He saw that Alfred is the one to not mess with and he respected it.

(Y/N) stayed silent as he ate. Bruce already a mental note to buy more sweets for (Y/N) to try.

After the whole cake fiasco, everyone decided to help (Y/N) experience some actual fragments of childhood. So what do they decide to do?

Cartoon marathon.

Jason wanted to watch South Park because he knows (Y/N) will love it. It's pure satire and Jason loved it. Whenever he could catch some free time, he would watch it and it would take a national emergency to stop.

And that's why Jason is leading (Y/N) to the living room.

" What is South Park even? " (Y/N) asked as he entered the living room, quickly moving to his spot.

" One of the best cartoons ever made. " Jason simply said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" It's pure satire. " Dick elaborated and (Y/N) nodded in understanding. (Y/N) liked satire. He considered himself to be a sarcastic person, more so now when he lived with the Waynes. Damian and (Y/N) just communicated via sarcasm and it was fun.

They started from the first episode and (Y/N) chuckled quietly. Everyone turned their heads. Holy shit. It's a beautiful sound too, coming from (Y/N). When they make him laugh properly, they are going to commemorate it once it happens.

" What? " (Y/N) asked, looking at the all.

" You have an adorable laugh. " Jason explained and (Y/N) turned his head away. He didn't want them to see his blush. Nobody has ever told him that. There was never any type of affection from his handler. If he got a 'good job', he could consider it the best praise.

After months of digging, Bruce found (Y/N)'s birthday. Bruce is definitely going to brag about this for the years to come. And he found out just in time. It's going to be in a few days and they wanted to surprise (Y/N).

(Y/N) is observant by nature and keeping this surprise as a secret is not an easy feat. Bruce could see that (Y/N) was already suspicious, especially with the way everyone brushes him off with the exact same excuses and some times they distract him with sparring, cases and all in all just stupid things.

Alfred made a chocolate cake, now (Y/N)'s favorite and the others got him some things that they thought that (Y/N) would like. Jason had a major task of bringing (Y/N) to the dining room.

They all waited with the stuff, knowing that (Y/N) wouldn't like sudden surprise and sudden noise. (Y/N) stopped as he took in the sight of a cake with candles on them.

" Happy birthday. " Bruce said, with a smile on his face.

" What? " (Y/N) asked quietly and their faces fell.

" You never had a birthday before? " Dick asked, feeling sad for (Y/N).

" Not really. I was usually sent on missions during that time. The last one was spent on a deserted island. " (Y/N) said, shuddering at the mere memory of the mission. Bruce walked towards (Y/N) and brought him into his own embrace.

" From now on, we are going to replace all of those memories with some more precious ones. Okay? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) felt something warm in his core. Something that he has never felt before.

Everyone agreed with Bruce, joining in on the hug. (Y/N) never liked to be touched, but he has grown to like it with the others. They weren't abrasive with it and Dick was the most touchy one, he understood his boundaries.

" Can I eat the cake now? " (Y/N) asked, squished in between all of them. Everyone chuckled at the suggestion and let go of (Y/N). The celebration went by without a hitch and it was filled with smiles, even from members who don't smile to much.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batkids #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

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yuri-is-online · 7 months

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Manipulating the Buyers (Rollo Flamm x Yuu)

Intro

notes: they/them used for Yuu, pre-established relationship, Rollo is downbad horrendous and a freak. Not related to my previous Rollo fic, GloMas suggested but not explicitly mentioned; introducing the boyfriend to the family (Crewel) and watching him get hazed by the older brothers (Leona and Vil), and persists in enjoying domestic fluff despite the horrors (magic). More fic can be found on my masterlist here.

"ENOUGH." Crewel shouts loud enough to silence your upperclassmen and send you halfway out of your skin. "Yuu and Grim are being kind enough to let you use there space even after the Headmage was rude enough to refuse to ask them for it. I'm sure all of you are more than competent enough of doing your tasks on your own."

"Won't the prefect be a bit bored if they have to just stand around and just watch?" Asks Trey, completely aware of your ability to entertain yourself. You should be annoyed, but your attention is firmly captured by the buzz of your phone in your uniform pocket.

"Grim and I can take tickets." You smile as the familiar contact asks if you are out of classes yet, and available to talk.

[you] something came up sorry ….. ( 〃．．)ﾉ [you] nothing bad! i'll text you when it's over ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

"Oh that would be so cute!" Cater cheers immediately turning towards an equally as excited Idia. "We should totally dress him up, oh do you want to be samsies Yuu? Or should we make your outfit unique?"

[my flamme] Good to hear that there's nothing wrong. Please take your time, I suspect your "something" might be related to something I want to talk to you about. [my flamme] Also nothing bad.

"Hmmm I don't mind leaving that up to you guys!" You tuck your phone against your chest and try to to appear too eager to get away. Vil's raised eyebrow suggests he doesn't completely believe you. "I mean, you guys have a theme you're going with right? If you really want me to pick stuff out I'll need guidelines."

"There won't be any need for that," you're really glad Epel isn't here right now to get any schadenfreude from Vil's strict smile being aimed at someone who isn't him "why we can just decide on your outfit right now can't we? Your classes are over for the day so you have no where to go. Isn't that right?"

~~~~

"And then he made me try on every single suit Crewel owns." Your voice is muffled by your pillows in a position Rollo thinks looks comfortable, but prevents him from fully seeing your face. Thankfully you have mercy on him and turn towards him, adjusting your phone with a smile that makes his heart flutter slowly away from his previous aggravations towards something practically domestic. "And didn't pick out a single one! Can you believe it, I haven't told anyone anything but I swear he knows. Vil's worse than Rook sometimes I swear."

"Did you like any of them?" He's wondered about what you would look like in things other than the uniform Crowley provided you, (ashamedly Noble Bell's uniform had been at the forefront of his mind) the worn gym clothes you used as pajamas didn't give him much insight into your personal sense of style. You close your eyes in thought and Rollo moves you closer to his chest, he wishes he was as relaxed with this as you. He wished he had the strength to lay with his phone next to him in his bed and pretend you were there with him, but even sitting next to the fireplace in the Student Council Room is almost too much for him.

"They were a bit stuffy. And stupid formal." You sound so tired, Rollo almost feels bad for keeping you awake.

"I bet they looked nice."

"Yeah Vil didn't let me take any pictures sorry." Rollo almost chokes at the implication of his asking and you laugh as he coughs and decides to change the subject.

"Oh that's fine." He had been so caught up in asking about your day he had almost forgotten what it was he wanted to speak with you about. That should annoy him, this maddening peace you inspire in him is dangerous, he is at risk of being well and truly content with his place in the world. "I'll get a chance to see anyway." He is rewarded for his patience with a smile so radiant he loses his ability to breath.

"You're coming to the Culture Fair?" You sound so excited.

"Your Headmage specifically invited our student council." Rollo had technically known about this for months, he had suspected that would prove longer than you had known about it but for you to have just learned today angered him intensely. Worry knits its way across your face and that anger softens, he thinks he knows you well enough to make some assumptions. "You don't need to worry about leaving your duties to spend time with me, I fully intended to plan things around your schedule." He whispers softly and you relax slightly. "I'm more than capable of entertaining myself when you aren't around."

"That's not really what I'm worried about..." It was certainly part of it though. The thought of having your boyfriend come all the way from the Shaftlands to Sage's Island and not getting to see him once drove you mad and you didn't have nearly the same amount of faith in Crowley's scheduling that Rollo seems to. "I don't want to have to break up any fights."

"...allow me to rephrase my statement, I am more than capable of behaving myself." Rollo says firmly, and you sigh to yourself. It's not him you are worried about, at least not primarily. No matter how reasonable he thinks he is, Rollo is just as capable of being problematic as your classmates. "And as nice as I'm sure Night Raven College is-" It's a school filled with mages so he doubts it is all that nice, but it's the only home you have known here and Rollo has no desire to be impolite. "I would like to spend some time with you alone and I could see that being... difficult on campus." He isn't wrong.

"Do you know where you're staying? I haven't spent a ton of time off campus so I won't be the best tour guide." You move towards your desk to jot down what Rollo has to say and feel yourself warm when you see his affectionate smile.

"That's fine. I've been thinking about how nice it would be to explore a new place with you. And now I get to do it much sooner that I expected." How this man doesn't think he's romantic is beyond you.

~~~~

Craneport is nothing like the City of Flowers but Rollo thinks it has a certain charm to it. For a city so close to a school for mages there are a lot of normal people here, different in attitude than his home but still charming; Rollo likes it here. Exploring this place with you will be worth it, all he has to do is make through today.

"Ah! Mr. Flamm! So good of you to have accepted my most generous invitation-" The headmage badgers on as Rollo takes a deep breath of his handkerchief, the man is somehow more insufferable in person than over the phone or through your stories, a truly impressive feat if nothing else. Rollo barely manages to extract himself from the Headmage's blubbering to explore the cultural fair. It isn't... unimpressive he supposes. There is a disgusting amount of magic on display, but he manages to find small shows of genuine craftsmanship too. He finds himself pleasantly surprised at the student Cafe, the school's botanical gardens provide a feel unlike the cafe's back at home and provide a pleasant degree of privacy from the rest of the school. The snacks on offer are different too, there are no croissants or cheeses, instead the students are offering different types of cake and a few buns. You did say you were only taking tickets, surely your professors wouldn't mind if you took a brief break to eat something? Or maybe they would allow him to bring something to you, he forgets if you mentioned anything about whether or not you had explained who he was to anyone other than Trein. Not that he's nervous about speaking to any of your other professors, he's certain he can make a good argument to any mage for why-

"Roi du Mouchior!" It's all Rollo can do to not snatch up his handkerchief and give Hunt the satisfaction of seeing him live up to that abominable nickname, opting instead to press his nails into his palm. "How splendid! I had wondered if we would see you here, our prefect's improved mood makes much more sense now, no?" The irritating git turns towards a tall, well presented man who is making a great deal of use of the extra height his heels give to look down in judgement on Rollo with in a keen appraisal that would cause lesser men to keel.

"Oh?" The voice, not the appearance is what triggers Rollo's memory, he can't say he doesn't know who Vil Schoenheit is, he's not wholly unaware of current cultural trends, and he remembers your anecdotes that suggest friendship, he just wasn't expecting to actually meet the man. He hadn't really wanted to meet with anyone other than you. "I was aware Yuu was looking forward to something... but I was under the impression it was exciting and not antique."

"... I don't believe we have been introduced." Rollo does take a breath of his kerchief's potpourri at that comment, Hunt is already abominably difficult to read, but he doesn't suppose he had told Schoenheit the truth, not when Draconia had been the one to suggest the cover up. There were more clever ways to call someone an attempted murderer anyway and he supposes that comment was likely aimed at his uniform. "I am Rollo Flamme, the Noble Bell College Student Council President. I am also Yuu's partner." Schoenheit raises an eyebrow.

"I see." He says. "Vil Schoenheit, Dorm Leader of Pomefiore among other things." And that is all as Vil excuses himself and Rook back towards where Rollo doesn't know but supposes he will soon enough. Briefly, shamefully, his heart stutters as he thinks over the interaction. He hasn't been... forthcoming about your relationship with his peers, it simply is none of their business, but he never said anything to discourage you from doing so. But he also hadn't asked if you had... or wanted to do so, Rollo certainly hopes he hasn't crossed a line even if he finds himself strangely exhilarated to stand and just be honest about how he feels. His eyes dart back to the display before him as softer thoughts soothe the flames of disgust.

Shortcake is always a safe bet he thinks. These ones are exceptionally portable and come in convenient pairs.

~~~~

"Thanks for coming, please enjoy the show!" You give your best scary monster claws alongside Grim and smile wide as the guests giggle at your cuteness and shuffle along to their doom, holding the pose till they leave and letting it collapse in a sigh of relief.

"Man this is annoyin'." Huffs Grim. "Why do ya think they keep squealing whenever I hit em with my monster moves?! s' not like I'm cute, I'm really scary!"

"It's a real mystery." You say with the cadence of someone really pushing for that Oscar nomination. Only to be interrupted someone with the tact of an oncoming freight train.

"It's cause it's not good." Leona slams himself into your chair before you can sit back down, blatantly ignoring both your and Grim protests in favor of continuing to insult your companion. "No one in their right name would be afraid of a puff ball."

"I ain't a puffball!" Puffs Grim. "And you're supposed to be in the Grave Yard! Whatdya think Vil is gonna say if he finds out you're here!" Leona shrugs.

"Probably something about how ugly Yuu's boyfriend is." Leona's signature smug smile comes out as soon as he sees the tell tale signs of your embarrassment fluttering through your body language. "Oh? Here I thought he was joking, don't tell me some bullshit about how you think he's attractive everyone says that."

"But I do?" You protest on instinct noticing much too late the sound of approaching footsteps behind you and simply choose bringing consequences you simply choose not to turn around and face. "I'm not going to say I don't I like him!"

"I'm more concerned you didn't say anything at all." A very not mad just disappointed and this is so much worse looking Crewel stands, fiddling with his riding crop in a way that makes you break just a bit of a sweat. "Was there a specific reason you didn't think to mention you had a boyfriend?" You didn't think Crewel's voice could crack and yet here it is in full view of you (who is terrified) and Leona (having the time of his life.)

"Yuu didn't think it was none of your business." Huffs Grim, sealing your fate somewhere six feet under. "I mean whatdya gonna do? Nothin good!"

"What I mean is-" you try.

"Nah I think it's pretty clear what ya mean." Cackles Leona. "I'm impressed, didn't think ya had it in you to hide something this big." Of all the times for the big cat to decide to have a bit of energy, why's he wasting it on teasing you? "Would have assumed you'd wanna blabber your little feelings all over the place."

"I would have hoped," it might just be you but Crewel sounds almost... sad, it's making you feel sort of bad "that you felt comfortable enough to talk about your feelings. With someone anyway."

"I mentioned it to Ace and Deuce." You say quietly and a little of his typical confidence returns to Crewel.

"Good." He says without a hint of irony. "So long as someone is there for you in case something goes wrong." You wonder if it would be wise to mention that to your friends or if it would make them too insufferable.

"You hear that?" Leona smiles. "You're on notice herbivore." A cough makes you realize he wasn't talking to you

Rollo says nothing, a little box you recognize as being from the Science Club's pop up cafe. What you do not recognize is your boyfriend, he isn't wearing his Noble Bell Uniform, though you think you recognize a similar style to the button up underneath his sweater, his giant uniform hat is missing too. He ignores Leona and simply gives you a reassuring smile before turning to Crewel with the more familiar serious look on his face.

"I'm sorry for causing worry, Yuu speaks very highly of you and I would never encourage them to keep a secret from you." His smooth manner of speaking bores Leona, but doesn't fully impress Crewel.

"I am glad to hear that." He says in complete monotone.

"You here to visit your other herbivore?" Leona asks, still here and not in his place for some reason. "We're using Ramshackle Dorm so sorry you aren't gonna get to be alone." Your search for a suitably blunt object to smack him with is interrupted by Rollo asking a very simple question.

"That's your dorm?" Everything stops. You swear you can hear the screams and faint music from the inside as Leona, Crewel, and even Grim seem to have forgotten how to breathe. Rollo's eyes narrow on the shape of the house, scanning the windows and dipping into the carved stone accents with a severity you think could scorch, yet not once does he move to settle himself or take a deep breath. "It has a certain charm to it I suppose... those tombstones are a very impressive bit of prop work."

"Um do you mind if I take my break now?" You don't wait for an answer and seize Rollo's hand and Grim's paw and book it for the hills behind Ramshackle.

~~~~

"Just so we're clear I still intend to take you on a proper date while I'm here." Rollo sits stiff, not wanting to put the brunt of his back against the trees around you but still clearly enjoying the quiet. "And I do want to see the inside of your dorm... preferably after hours." You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he boops your nose affectionately, surprisingly non pulsed at your silent suggestions. "I have no real interest in gauging the special effects skills of your magical classmates, I am interested in where they are trying to house you."

"I mean I think it's nice?" You certainly like the vibe of it, and the ghosts take good care of you where they can.

"It could be better I guess." Grim sounds happy as he says that, probably because Rollo remembered to bring him food as well (even if he had claimed it was just to shut him up.) "But it's ours y'know? I get to set all the rules and we get to pick the decor! None of the other guys get to do that."

"Would you decorate your house like your dorm?" Rollo reaches out for your hand and pulls you closer, finally leaning back against the tree content with how you lean onto his shoulder. "Hopefully without the tombstones in the yard... assuming they are as real as your reactions suggests."

"I don't know..." Both the answer to that question and the reasons for the grave in your current front yard. "W-why do you ask?"

"For now? I just want to know what sort of things you like because I enjoy hearing about them." And yet Rollo says no more, taking out his phone and moving the conversation to Craneport and the various shops he saw on his way to the school. For now it's an easy enough phrase to ignore, but then Rollo has always been one for implications. For the future, he wants to know what sort of place you would want to buy. He thinks it would be nice to leave the decision to you.

Taglist: @nothingfuninthislife

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #originally i intended to have him go through the haunt w yuu and have the boys haze him #still might write that at some point but i want this fic done and dusted so i can work on other stuff #because you know they would :/#“oh yuu's bf? from another school?”#“shame we all forgot our lines and had to improvise”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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hey y'all, i pretty much know that i'm the asshole big time- but i'm not sure what to do about it. i know i need to shift my perspective, especially because i'm not sure what to do going forward... or how to meaningfully apologize, so I think i need some outside judgement.

AITA for wanting to possibly return to speaking terms with someone i cheated with?

about 1.5 years ago one of my best friends (i'll call him R, we're all 20 now) confessed to me while I had a bf- R said he knew i wasn't into him but asked me to kiss him once. i felt really bad and didn't feel anything for him, so i said yes and we briefly kissed. I didn't think it was going to be a big deal until I told my boyfriend right afterwards and he got really upset in a way i now see i was really understandable. i've come to see the situation as cheating, but I think fundamentally we had a different view of it at first. my bf asked me to not be alone with him anymore or talk to him outside of groupchats (i was in a friend group of 3 people, R me and another guy). I tried really hard to follow through on this but in reality- i just didn't want to cut off one of my best friends- there were times I went against my boyfriend's wishes and slowly I let up and saw him/talked alone more. I would tell my boyfriend about it and he would be hurt by it and I would feel horrible, but I didn't put up a hard boundary. I hated myself for it, but I didn't feel like R was actually a problem, rather that the problem was my lack of respect for my bf. A month or two later, all of us moved away to different colleges. After two months of long distance and continuing to talk to R on the phone sometimes, my boyfriend left me citing that as one of the reasons.

I realized I should have valued my bf more and I stopped talking to R (basically ghosted him), but he contacted me on another platform and asked if I was okay and I realized that he was a true friend in a lot of ways. When we hung out on winter break at home, we were chilling and he kind of made a joke asking me to sleep with him. I said no very loudly because I'm not into him like that and I was still hung up on my bf. Meanwhile, after 2 months of no contact, me and my bf had started to talk again very tentatively (i had tried really hard to instigate it which, sometimes i feel bad about not leaving him in his peace- but I was having a really hard time accepting the breakup). I realized there was something I really needed to do to show him I was serious and I sent R a text saying we couldn't be friends anymore citing some lame reasons and the whole 'sleep together' thing.

After that, R didn't contact me and I felt like it was sad, but kind of a blessing because I got to focus on building trust between my bf and I and we eventually got back together.

Anyways, in the past year, the relationship has been steadily getting more comfortable and I hadn't had any contact with R or cheated since (I kind of believe once a cheater always a cheater, so this is an accomplishment. I really don't want to hurt my bf like that again.)

Okay here's the sucky part though (as if the rest wasn't already sucky of me) i was posting tiktoks for the first time this week and, little did i know, the algorithm was showing them to people who had my number. I got a call from an unknown number and a text that said "can we talk." I realized from the chat history it was R, whose number i deleted. I didn't answer, but a part of me really wanted to.

I missed him and I felt bad for leaving the friendship the way it was, I was also really curious as to why he was contacting me now?? But I knew I needed to tell my bf before I did anything. He said he would feel more comfortable if I didn't respond and I kind of agreed- but I said I was going to think about it and that I would tell him explicitly before I did anything.

Then the next day I got another call from a random number with my hometown area code- I thought there was a possibility it was R and decided to just act in the moment and let fate decide- I answered and it was him. It was kind of scary, but also exciting and didn't feel wrong in my body. He was weirdly casual just saying hi and that he saw my tiktoks and missed me, we ended up talking like old friends- like the time that had passed had healed some of that old stuff. He told me i was the best friend he ever had, and I remembered all kind of good things about our friendship. I also was able to apologize for ghosting him- if not super well. I knew while we were talking that my bf was not going to be comfortable with this and that I was unsure about what to do going forward and I think R kind of knew that was the case too, so it was also very awkward. when we hung up, it was clear I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to be his friend again.

When I told my bf as soon as i got off the phone, he was understandably very upset, even more so when I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep talking to R in the future. I feel really bad for hurting him, I was really mainly thinking about my own feelings. Now he and I are trying to resolve things, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know how I can make it better. I've told him that, even though it's not necessarily what I want, I'm willing to block R again, but I don't think it feels satisfying to either of us. my bf and I have been dating for 4 years now (with that break at 3 yrs) and he means so much to me, I don't want to bring us back to a place of distrust, but part of me feels like this was kind of pent up while I had R blocked. i've never ended a friendship with anyone before or blocked someone, so it all feels really weird to me, but I can imagine that my bf must feel really betrayed by my continued unsureness.

also R and my bf used to be friends for like 5 yrs- then R and I were close for 1 yr. my bf has said he felt left out by that and that he felt like R was a jerk to him while they were friends, so that's an element of it as well.

if you've read this far, thanks so much- advice? AITA? I've spent so much time feeling like scum for the way I handled the situation and while I have to love myself through it- I don't want to keep mishandling it- was answering the call all that bad, do I need to totally forget about talking to R?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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crossguild · 4 months

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there are a lot of bad takes floating around in op fandom but whitebeard slander is always the worst because oda took such care to craft a narrative in which this ONE character fits every mold of a platonic ideal of a father figure and i'm STILL seeing (thankfully not many) people misinterpret and take him in the worst possible faith and hold him to insane standards to which no other OP character is ever held

"he's sexist because he doesn't allow the women on his crew to fight"

word of god, not canon, also explicitly retconned with the presence of whitey bay on his crew in the oden flashback. there are also women who captain subordinate fleets who were clearly fighting alongside him at marineford. shanks's crew has no women at ALL yet no one ever comes at him about it??

even if it wasn't retconned, he served on the same crew as buckingham stussy, charlotte linlin and gloriosa. man knows women will fucking murder u.

he's very much portrayed as an old-fashioned 'dad' figure and OP's world is one in which sexism still exists. it's misguided but not unexpected for him to insist that his 'daughters' aren't put in even more danger because of his orders because he wants to protect them, but honestly given what we've seen of him if they wanted to fight he could NOT stop them lmao

"why would he raid marineford for ace but not avenge thatch or oden?"

ace is still alive. he didn't raid marineford for vengeance but to preserve a life that can still be saved

thatch and oden are dead and attempting to avenge their deaths would have racked up countless more casualties not just from facing off against kaidou or blackbeard's crew, but because in that big fight, he would be vulnerable to attack from other emperors and also the world government.

kaidou specifically used the raid on marineford to try and attack his flank, and was only stopped because shanks stepped in. wb only took the risk of raiding marineford because he felt that the life of one of his crewmembers was worth it, and he's explicitly pointed out that he would do the same for any other crewmember.

the fact that the navy only ever had the guts to try and execute ace because of his lineage speaks to how serious wb is about that particular threat.

"why didn't he listen to shanks??"

shanks wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. he already tried to stop ace, i don't doubt they've tried to call him back, but ace is also a pirate and whitebeard told shanks to butt out in order to preserve ace's reputation and autonomy. he respected ace's wishes to do what he felt was necessary and then he took responsibility for it on ace's behalf.

ace failed! he fucked up! ace felt ashamed enough, and whitebeard knew that, so he took the blame on himself as his father so that at least in the eyes of the world, it was his own reputation that took a beating and not his son's. i know a lot of people don't recognize that, but it is very much a selfless act of love and care. allowing his kid to make a mistake and then taking responsibility for it and helping him recover from it is the role of a good father

"he's too arrogant and trading on reputation and not actually that strong!"

he maintained order in the new world for 20 years after roger's death. he was a terminally ill dying man whose mere presence stabilized hundreds of islands because people were so afraid of him. he isn't overconfident or arrogant at all, he's more than earned any confidence he displays

he is BOTH trading on reputation AND monstrously powerful, but even he says that he's no longer at his peak and people don't live forever. it's well established that he knew he would probably die at marineford, and given the shrewd choices he made all throughout that battle, it's more than reasonable to assume that he prepared the crew for that possibility

"ace would have been a good captain/ace should have been the captain"

ace got them into that mess. he sure as damn hell would not have been a better captain, nor did he WANT to be a captain. ace never wanted to be captain or find the one piece or whatever, he wanted a family and he found it with whitebeard. ace was doing exactly what he wanted as whitebeard's 2nd division commander and all whitebeard wanted for him was to do what he wanted to, not force him to become PK

ace turned back because he couldn't shrug off an insult to whitebeard, and i'm mad at him for it, but it's also completely understandable why he did that. he's a sympathetic, nuanced, great character exactly because of that.

it takes a LONG time to train up haki, ace obviously wouldn't have had the opportunity to properly learn it when luffy could only manage it because one of the most refined users of haki who had all the time in the world to spend training him took luffy under his wing for two years. how the hell was ace gonna learn haki under whitebeard when whitebeard has 1600+ members to take care of and numerous territories to defend. he was growing at a very reasonable rate, it's not ace's fault nor whitebeard's that luffy's pace is so wildly accelerated

"marco didn't do a good job leading the crew"

they were together for a YEAR after marineford and still mustered the forces to fight a war. the story that circulated is that they attacked teach out of vengeance for whitebeard, but marco explicitly says that they moved on blackbeard because he was invading sphinx/other territories

marco is a careful, thoughtful guy. sphinx looked just fine. we heard the WBPs got scattered, but we didn't hear about any mass casualties and he also did not seem all that torn up about what happened during the payback war. actually, the fact that plenty of them and their allies were still alive and kicking for weevil to attack in the timeskip speaks to them being pretty okay after the payback war, if scattered. there's a lot that's still unrevealed about that conflict and i'm not casting judgment until we find out what

"whitebeard doesn't act like an all-powerful captain and he couldn't control the crew"

he's their dad. a dad doesn't exist to impose his will on his kids and force them to follow the path that he wants them to, his parenting is clearly in the style of 'give them a place to grow and thrive and don't worry about that other stuff, with some ground rules like don't be trafficking drugs or slaves or killing your crewmates'

the operation fell apart because blackbeard betrayed every ideal of whitebeard's and took advantage of his trust and kindness. so it's the betrayal of the ideal of 'family' that hurt them, not a problem in how the crew itself was run. it did, after all, function well-- better than any other operation in the new world-- for several decades.

#one piece #whitebeard #edward newgate #portgas d. ace #op meta #anyway pops did nothign wrong yall just can't read

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raidark · 2 months

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Look, i'm not saying that Jacaerys' insecurities are not interesting or that he has legitimate worries (which will be proven right if they stick to the book... though i'm unsure on whether they will blame his behavior with Them for the betrayal).

But i'm still angry at everything they did to him. Especially since Book Jacaerys is my favorite character of Fire and Blood, of the whole Dance.

It makes me furious how many people are saying we the angry Jace stans have 0 media literacy and asking if we rather have Jace still doing nothing as he did for the whole season.

THAT is exactly the problem. That he didn't do anything in the show while in the book he did SO MUCH.

"And now you say you will strip that from me too" could be perfectly something Jacaerys says to the writers of this mess.

They sidelined all of his alliances achievements with the Vale, the Three Sisters, White Harbor and the North (the lack of Pact of Ice and Fire hurts the most). All the time that could have been spent to develop his character had they wanted and show his potential. Instead we only got a little show only scene with the Freys that barely proved anything about him.

I loved Baela's scene with Corlys, but it was Jace who mediated between Rhaenyra and him in the book, it was by his order that he was made Hand of the Queen.

It was also him who had the Dragonseeds idea... and before you say that he was also the one with the idea in the series, take into mind that in the book he called for the Dragonseeds (Valyrian ascent bastards) from the very beginning. The whole thing with nobles only is only in the show. Book Jacaerys didn't have any prejudice or apparent problem with bastards at this point of the story. It's obvious that he had already accepted this fact and it's in fact because he knows his origins that he gave Dragonseeds a chance and his faith. He leaded them for the love of god.

Yes, it's true that due to the nature of the book we don't know exactly what was he thinking. But it's the complete opposite reaction to his show version. Whether Book Jace understood or not the danger this plan posed on long-term, he did so just like Rhaenyra did, because they had no chance at the moment. Not to mention that while in the series all the candidates come from Kings Landing (?¿?), in the book they're taken from Driftmark and Dragonstone (which is populated, not only a castle for Targaryen), so there's a bit more of trust on them as subjects than on completely unknown people from the city taken and ruled by your enemy. (It also weren't so many who tried in the book)

I've seen some people say that Jace was besties with Addam and Nettles... and while we actually don't know their relationship, we do know that they mourned him badly while Ulf and Hugh weren't that affected. I really don't think they would be that affected if they didn't have some kind of bond before, even if it wasn't told to us. And I mean, it was Jace who supported legitimizing Addam and Alyn and make Addam heir to Driftmark ahead of Joffrey. Which, well, doesn't seem likely in the show.

The thing is that Jace DID a lot of things in the book, supporting his mother, basically leading the Blacks on the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen, who couldn't do it since she was RIGHTFULLY grieving during a lot of time after everything that had happened in quick succession, both Luke and Visenya's deaths.

And you know, THAT'S NOT BAD. It gave time to have other characters doing things like Rhaenyra's sons. It explored a side of Rhaenyra and how much her children's death affected her, explicitly showing how much they mattered to her and how brutally it broke her inside (while filling her with pure unadulterated rage after the Gullet). But well, playing devil's advocate, I understand a bit why they didn't go with this since I don't have any faith most watchers would try to emphatize with the grieving mother part of Rhaenyra, and would instead call her a weak queen.

Jace was a supporting and loving son, an extension of Rhaenyra, heart of the Blacks, responsible for the alliances that would bring them to victory by the end of the war. A boy who came to understand and accept his status in the world and used it on a positive note for her mother's cause. A worthy heir to Rhaenyra, one of the few people in this whole period that was worthy of becoming King in the future.

This wasn't about wanting him to do nothing in the show. It was about not butchering his character and be faithful to all the stuff he actually does. But because the writers couldn't (or didn't want to) understand it wasn't Rhaenyra's turn in the characters front lines right now (it would have come later), instead they had to underline him and strip him of everything he did and give it to other characters, while giving him traits and opinions that has made a lot of people despise him.

His fate was meant to be a tragedy that made an apparent victory for the Blacks as hollow and catastrophic as a defeat. And now there's almost no more time and Jace will be remembered by show onlys just for his self-hating identity crisis (which he could have had in the book as well, or before in the show, but not anymore at this point) and his bordering hypocritical classism. Not for everything he actually did and the traits you could imagine of him from what is said in the book.

But hey, apparently a certain part of the fandom thinks that's the only thing that makes a character, a human, complex and interesting.

I don't hate show Rhaenyra. I don't hate show Jacaerys. I will always support Rhaenyra's claim. But I can't just stand after so many decisions that go against them. Especially in the case of Jace who is already receiving such amount of vitriol hate while receiving love just from being victimiced and poor sad boy.

Ah. My boy needs his own sub-team inside Rhaenyra's supporters at this point -- not putting him against Rhaenyra or anyone else. But. Seeing Rhaenyra's stans wishing for his death...

I don't hate the characters. I hate the writers. I hate the changed dynamics, the change in characters' ages, the erasure of Nettles, how Jace was striped from everything his characte is, the stupid decisions....

#house of the dragon #hotd #team black #team targaryen #team rhaenyra #team jacaerys #team book jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #pro jacaerys velaryon #pro team black #jace served face but at what cost?

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sapphicstone · 6 months

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Soul's flower garden | broZone x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡ ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: you're a gardener, so you have extensive knowledge of all the local flora.

pairings: John Dory x Reader, Spruce/Bruce x Reader, Clay x Reader, Floyd x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤhope you enjoy it!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . john dory

JD drove frantically to Mount Rageous. The place where his younger brother Floyd was supposedly being held. You only knew him from the stories and photos John Dory had, you never saw him in person.

You saw when he read the letter that strangely reached Rhonda and you saw how worried he was.

Mount Rageous looked like an unhealthy place, although it seemed to be partly made of plastic or something similar.

"Wait here." John asked as he got up from the driver's seat.

"I'll go with you." You put down the book you were reading about the local flora and got up, intending to accompany him.

"No way."

And off he goes.

You've spent minutes waiting, after reading the whole book from start to finish, JD arrives with a slightly melancholy expression. He said nothing, just sat back down on the bench and turned around with Rhonda.

You didn't question him about anything in order to maintain respect. John would say an hour, in his own time.

The next day, Rhonda didn't want to walk. John Dory was explicitly worried when he turned the car around and realized that the armadillo simply refused to move. She didn't have the strength.

You both left. You were startled when you noticed the greenish tinge on the poor creature's face. As you approached her, you noticed the sickly look on her face.

"She looks terrible! She must have eaten something she shouldn't have on Mount Rageous."

"What are we going to do?" John looked even more worried.

You knew exactly what to do. Nearby there were some boldo leaves, you picked them and offered them to Rhonda, who frowned as soon as she smelled the plant.

"Come on, Rhonda! I know it looks bitter, but you have to chew it."

She obeyed. Rhonda got better a few hours later and John Dory showered you both with kisses and hugs.

You help John to stay away from plants that can cause allergies, since he loves walking through the woods and acts unconsciously most of the time.

Once he almost ate poisonous berries if you hadn't been around…

"Can I eat that?"

"If you want to swell up and explode into glitter, yes!'' One day, John was bitten by a carnivorous plant and didn't leave Rhonda for a few days. You laughed at him and he got upset.

A complete disaster when it comes to laughing plants, he hardly ever recognizes them. Lucky you know a cure for them.

He loves your knowledge of flora and constantly presents you with flowers he finds in his favorite book.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Spruce/Bruce

He seasons the food with plants that you take to Vacay Island.

Because it's an island, the plantation is somewhat limited, so you have to go out and explore a bit more.

Bruce goes along, he doesn't want you to get hurt while trying to pick plants to season the food sold in the restaurant.

"Do you think this would go well in soup?"

He thinks it's funny when you bring the plants close to your face and smell them to simulate a possible combination.

"No, dear. Try this one!"

"Incredibly delicious."

The best fruit salad on Vacay Island. The best drinks and juices too!

Bruce also gives you flowers and some special seedlings.

One day you told him about a flower that grows in all possible environments, even tropical ones.

Guess what? He found a way to get this flower and helped you plant it in a pot at the back of the restaurant.

Every day that flower grew more colorful and beautiful.

"My little flower" as he calls it.

"My little ones." As he calls his children if they have any.

Your house is all decorated. Flowers in pots, flowers on the ceiling, flower arrangements and the pantry is full of grains and vegetables that you grow yourself in pots for your own consumption.

He waters the plants every day when he remembers.

They all remind him of you, so Bruce doesn't feel lonely when he's away from you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Clay

Clay's office has never been as colorful as it used to be.

You work in a location a little further away from all the centralization of the putt-putt village.

Because she has a vast knowledge of plants, Viva has appointed her as a "healer". Always serving teas and medicines to trolls who end up injured or sick.

Clay admires you from afar. He gives you some books that he finds interesting, even though you have a collection of them and don't need new ones.

But you think it's cute and keep it anyway.

Afternoon tea almost every day! Clay gave up his coffee addiction for a while just to enjoy his delicious herbal tea.

Clay doesn't like sweets very much, he hardly eats milkshakes and French fries. So salads with fresh vegetables are always welcome!

You stock up on fruit and fresh salad for him in a little jar, always knocking on his office door to deliver it to him.

"Lovely pumpkin." That's what he usually calls you.

"Thanks for helping to look after us!" You say with a smile.

"You do it better than me."

One day you asked him to look at your farm. He liked it so much that, thanks to this tranquillity, he began to relax a little from his work as an accountant. Of course, he was still very professional, but with a little moderation.

You taught him how to pick moon fruit. They have the shape of the star and are naturally illuminated and he keeps one of them as a lamp in his office.

That way, he always remembers how special your relationship is.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Floyd

Skincare!

You definitely know the best plants that can take care of trolls' delicate skin. Almost every night before going to sleep, you rub some creamy plant on their faces and talk while you wait a few minutes for it to take effect.

Floyd has some trouble sleeping. Sometimes his body aches and his mind is agitated, so you prepare some herbal tea with calming properties so that he can relax and sleep.

Your cocoon is in the most flowery tree in the countryside.

Floyd would like to learn more about the flora. He wants to talk to you about his interests and loves it when you teach him something you've recently learned.

flower crown!

But Floyd ends up sneezing from the pollen.

Special fruit pies are always on the table. He loves his homemade sweets.

Floyd puts the flowers in a vase with water. There's always room for more vases inside the cocoon.

He has learned to eat some edible flowers and now always asks you to make some refreshing salad with them.

"Please?" He begs with piteous eyes.

"Okay, Daisy." You call him that and then give him an Eskimo kiss.

The shape of Floyd's hair resembles a tulip, however.

Floyd now smells of roses. And he loves it.

౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ೀ౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for any mistakes! :') masterlist

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sneakyboymerlin · 3 months

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Can I ask for you to talk more about what you said in the tags of this post? Morgana went evil because she was classist and not because she was hurt? Can you go more into depth on that? I feel like Morgana's arc and her motivations are really hard to decipher because of the way she was written. Like one episode it seems like she just wants Uther dead, and then the next she wants Arthur dead too and she wants the crown and she's going after Emrys and that shift always confused me a little.

I always thought the interpretation that Merlin could have helped her more was valid. Like, yes I am completely in agreement that the entire point of 2x03 is that Merlin helped her when no one else would. But he also took back that help as the season went on, and betrayed her when he poisoned her. There WAS more he could have done, I think. He could have been honest about himself, but he wasn't. He could have simply told her that he suspected that maybe she was the center of the sleeping spell in the Fires of Idirsholas, but he didn't. He could have tried convincing Gauis to help her on his own, without bringing Merlin into it, but he didn't. (Even Katie McGrath said that she blamed Merlin for what became of Morgana.)

And yes, I know why these things didn't happen. Because the dragon told him not to and Gauis told him not to. But in the end these WERE Merlin's choices. And maybe if he had chosen differently, so would have Morgana.

Like, yes I agree that Morgana's choices were her own. But I don't think she made those choices in a vacuum.

As to the bit of her being classist, I think I understand what you mean? But I'm still confused because I wouldn't exactly call Morgana from season 1-2 or even season 3 a classist person. She was good back then, shared values with Arthur about what a better world would look like.

I'm just so intrigued by what you might mean, and I'm always looking for new ways to look at this story. It's lovely that after all this time there's still more to discuss.

Lot to unpack here.

For one thing, Morgana feeling hurt didn’t encourage her to kill or allow the killing of random uninvolved people, but especially the Druids + their sympathizers who were arrested in 2x03. She ignored her kin’s plight in favor of her own comfort, even though she is granted protections that those people couldn’t dream of. She’s very much a class traitor from the start, because she tends to be thinking more about how she feels than how others do. She’s more blatant in her self-loyalty later on, but it’s always been a theme with her.

As for Merlin, 2x12 was a mutual betrayal between him and Morgana. Morgana betrays him first in this episode by endorsing the fever spell that Morgause casts on Camelot. While she’s not fully informed at first, 1) Merlin has no way of knowing that (especially since she has formed similar alliances in 1x12 and 2x11), and 2) Morgana embraces Morgause’s plan after the fact (explicitly so in 3x01/2). Merlin then poisons Morgana in order to end the fever spell on Camelot, choosing the greater good over her as an individual. To clarify point 2 here, Morgana is aware long before 3x01 that Merlin poisoned her because everyone in Camelot was slowly dying, but she makes it clear that she understands this in 3x01.

I also fail to see how Merlin revealing his own magic would have changed anything. Morgana already knows that Merlin is pro-magic (also discussed in 3x01), they simply have different methods by which they aim to achieve that goal. Both are flawed, as Merlin’s relies on tyrants like Uther changing their minds, and he places blame on the oppressed group (even if he’s a part of it) for not demonstrating that magic can be good, when it doesn’t matter how well this is demonstrated, since magic is not banned for any logical reason.

Morgana’s plan is also flawed because she prioritizes herself over anyone else, meeting Uther’s tyranny with more tyranny. This is where the classism comes in. Morgana’s sense of entitlement is rooted in her status as a noblewoman. As 2x03 demonstrates, she values her own safety above the safety of her people, and when her descent is portrayed more openly, the first changes we see are in her mistreatment of Gwen, her maidservant. In 3x01/2, she also finds the townspeople to be disposable (including the Druids & sympathizers she knows live among them) and blackmails Merlin using her status as a noble. She also tries to kill Gwen because she can’t stand the thought of a “mere servant” taking the throne. She’s good to Gwen as long as Gwen functions as her underling, but as soon as Gwen is set to outrank her, everything that makes her appear distinctly better than other nobles disappears.

But ultimately, it’s Morgana’s actions that tell us this. These actions aren’t bad because she was hurt, or because she has magic. Every bad thing she does is bad because she is classist. The harm she does comes from a place of entitlement and inflated self-importance. While she may justify these actions with the hurt she’s suffered, being hurt did not make her do those things. Classism is the reason she becomes a tyrant, and it’s the reason she mistreats the “commoner” class. Again, her dismissing random civilians, especially the Druids & sympathizers, as disposable to preserve her own comfort? Comes from a place of classism. Her getting Gwen arrested on false charges and blackmailing Merlin using her power as a noble? Acts that are motivated by classism.

But back to what Merlin could or didn’t do. Morgana knew that Merlin was pro-magic, but she would never have agreed to his methods, as we see in 3x02, because she did not have faith in Uther or Arthur changing for the better (understandably so, and she’s proven correct). Whether Merlin is just pro-magic or has magic himself does not change this outcome, because it is about methods, not identity. Even when she finds out that Merlin is a sorcerer in 5x12, this does not change her mind.

And again, as far as Merlin knew in 2x12, Morgana was very much in on the plan with Morgause. He even tests this by asking Morgana why she reacted the way she did about Morgause and catches her in a lie. If he tells Morgana that he suspects her involvement, with the information he has (that she is allied with Morgause), then what? It makes no sense to bring it up. He never tells Agravaine that he suspects the man’s involvement with Morgana, either, because he doesn’t suspect that Agravaine could somehow be innocently/unwittingly doing these things. One could argue that Morgana could have confided in Merlin about her earlier interaction with Morgause (when the curse was cast) since she trusted him so much, but alas, she did not. And that’s understandable, too. Also, if you’ll recall, Merlin did try to get Gaius to help Morgana. They had a whole argument about it. Gaius concluded that gaslighting her about her powers was helping her. Merlin had to give up and go to Kilgharrah, and then when Kilgharrah wouldn’t help, either, he searched out the location of the Druids on his own and sent Morgana to their encampment. What Katie McGrath thinks about it means very little since she is just one (1) opinion against the visible canon facts. Merlin too blames himself for what Morgana became, but that doesn’t make him right.

The fact is that Morgana is her own person and her mind isn’t going to be passively changed. She’s always been fiercely independent, opinionated, and actionable. The desire to blame everyone but Morgana for her own actions also has a lot to do with her being a rich white woman. People assign a ~delicate, passive~ demeanor onto her, even when she shows her ruthlessness (whether that is simply standing up for her beliefs or torturing people). Morgana did not just get passed around and manipulated by everyone. If anything, 2x12 seeks to establish that it is Morgana herself who can make these decisions and change the future, rather than sitting around passively watching it happen. And by choosing to join with Morgause, she changes everything. The rest of the series is a chain reaction to this one crucial moment when she makes up her mind.

#morgana pendragon #morgana critical #fandom critical #bbc merlin #merlin meta #asks

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persona-brainrot-real · 2 months

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a very long about haru because i love her and im upset about how the game let her story get overshadowed at every turn

its nearly 3am rn but i'm thinking about how genuinely insane it is for persona 5 to introduce Haru as a character who is struggling to find any of her autonomy and treat her the way that they do. her father is marrying her off to a man who makes it explicitly clear he wants to use her for sex and even Okumura, in his palace, is shown to understand this.

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru in her Phantom Thief outfit says "Father! You want me to be that mans plaything to satisfy your own ambitions?" the second is of Shadow Okumura, looking angry, saying "This is the only value you've had from the very beginning. The third image is before the boss fight against the cognition of Haru's fiance. He is saying "let's have fun! I'll play with you until I get bored!"]

even outside of the palace, in their daily life he makes it extremely clear that he has no intent on trusting Haru with company business (likely because he expects the company to be handed off to her husband after he dies) and he doesn't acknowledge her feelings or anything she says to defend her own autonomy (i know this is me reciting everything in the game i do have a point)

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru is upset as she says "So I'm not even allowed to decide where I will live, am I?". In the second, Okumura is saying "not only do you come home late, you've even stayed out overnight without permission..." looking disapproving. In the third image, Okumura is saying "I have my hands full right now with the company. Don't cause any more trouble for me." He is holding his phone.]

even when she first joins your team, she tries to insist on being useful and fighting, considering this is her request and her fathers palace, and morgana tells her she cant. i know its 'for her own sake' that she cant fight, but considering that Morgana was there when she first awakened and planned on using her to get through a palace alone, its really frustrating to then see him say shes not strong enough to fight in a team.

[ID: two screenshots of persona five royal. Both are taken in Okumura's palace. In the first, Haru is saying "I can fight too! Please, let me join you in battle!". In the second, Morgana is saying "Your persona is too weak to fight safely at the moment. Just leave that side of things to us for now."]

and this comes in AFTER morgana, while using her, gets her to insult his friends on his behalf because hes annoyed with them, even though she's visibly uncomfortable doing so, contradicts what morgana wants her to say, and is shown later to have no real malicious feelings for them - and all of the bitter feelings she DID have were because morgana told her that the PT's were mean and didn't treat him right or didn't need him, which wasn't true to begin with, and is why she has to ask him for direction on what to say,

[ID: Haru looks upset. She stands opposite the Phantom Thieves and looks at Morgana. She is asking him "What was it again?"]

and you bring all of this into a brilliant character of a girl who is so self-assured, so firm on what she wants and her own autonomy - i want to be a Phantom Thief, i want to be a hero, i want to have my autonomy but more importantly i want to earn it, i want to change my fathers heart myself so that he becomes a better person and a better business owner, i want to prove to him that i can be trusted with the company and that i have more worth than being married off - but never really gets to express that? Even when it comes to the fight with Okumura and her chance to have her moment - the moment where Yusuke tells Madarame he's a coward who lost sight of his passion, where Ann gets to tell Kamoshida that he's only alive because she wants him to live through all he's done (both in the palace and the real world), where Futaba gets to talk to her mom directly in a scene that always makes me tear up - Haru's moment to stand up to her father is overshadowed by her father speaking to Morgana instead!!!!!

i know that this could also be a huge meta moment - he sees his daughter standing up to him, defending herself, and dismisses her entirely to try and appeal to the next rational subject, a man, but . the man is a cat. it doesnt work as well if he turns to a cat to be like "well certainly you'll be more reasonable" and turns the focus to Morgana - who has already taken up a lot of time that Haru deserved to have recognised!!!!

i have issues with morgana, yes, and I believe a lot of that arc could have been really useful character building for him if it had been handled slightly better, given more weight and better pacing, but it really wouldn't have been such a big problem for me if it hadn't been pushed so heavily during Haru's character moments, because she is SUCH a good character!!!!

in her first appearance she makes for a really good subversion of what the PT's think that they are. her insistence on working for justice helps them work through their temporary doubt for what their purpose is and by having such a difficult situation happening in her life, she unites them all on something that they have to do. At least until they go to Okumura's palace for the first proper investigation, the intent to rescue Haru from her fiance is more important than the Phan-site and more important than any of Okumura's business practices.

she prioritises everyone elses happiness over her own to the point where she watches her father die on live television and tells the PT's to continue having fun at destinyland without her without considering that they'd want to be there for her. She has always suspected that people only wanted to be her friend for her money - and this seems to have affected her so much that despite being 'secretive about her history' at Shujin, she still doesn't mention at any point whether or not she has friends and is only seen speaking with teachers.

after her fathers death she has no real reason to trust any of the PT's - they were navigating with an unknown method, with no proof to show that what they were doing wouldn't cause a mental shutdown, they barely know each other, and yet she trusts them in spite of this and places her faith in the PT's regardless. even when faced with the person who DID kill her father, she understands that his death was a larger piece in a bigger plan and that it wasn't akechi's fault, it was the fault of Shido for ordering him dead, and in Shido's palace she's able to get the catharsis of killing the cognition of the person who aired her fathers death publicly on TV.

And what I think is a more frustrating part than any of that - where all of the Phantom Thieves, after their palace, get following story beats that increase their importance to make sure that you, as the player, can get attached to them, but the more PT's that join the team, the harder it is to juggle all of those characters and a lot of them have very vocal and prominent personalities that keep them involved. Yusuke's general quirks and behaviour keep him interesting, Makoto has an entire arc that's established ages before she's involved in Kaneshiro's palace, Futaba becoming navigator keeps her relevant, but where Haru's arc is taken over by Morgana in the palace where she's introduced, all subsequent story beats are entirely overtaken by Akechi.

Don't get me wrong, I love Akechi and he is in my brain 24/7, but it is extremely unfortunate that her fathers death immediately kickstarts the section of plot where the PT's realise that they're being tricked, meaning the plot suddenly ramps up, and during the school fair (something Haru is explicitly very excited about), Akechi's growing popularity and prominence in the story takes centre stage, especially as a day later he blackmails the PTs and joins their party.

Again, not complaining about Akechi, its just unfortunate that Haru's main story is clouded over by Morgana having a character arc and then the fan favourite comes in and immediately becomes the most prominent character for almost the entire rest of the game. It's sad because I love Haru but it wasn't until I romanced her that I realised how much I love her and how much there is too her - which ESPECIALLY sucks because it makes the section where you're reassuring her in the velvet room fall so flat compared to how you reassure everyone else.

ALL to say that i think it's wild to have a character whose entire arc routinely revolves around proving herself and reclaiming her autonomy from the men in her life, like her father and her fiance, and having her character arc so heavily influenced and even overshadowed by morgana, a male character. thank you guys for listening and if you disagree with me consider writing what your opinions are on your own post and not on mine :3

Anyway. huge rant post over. Haru is my wife and my girlfriend and my silly rabbit and i think she should be hyped up way more. ESPECIALLY for her showtime attack with makoto because that's fucking adorable. everyone must post one thousand haru okumura positivity posts right now

[ID: a gif of Haru Okumura, in her Phantom Thief outfit, holding her hat with one hand and pointing with the other. She says "I am no longer your subservient puppet!" while looking determined.]

#haru okumura #persona brainrot real #persona analysis #p5r #p5r spoilers #persona 5 spoilers #persona 5 #persona 5 royal

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royjamierot · 1 year

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Roy/Jamie fic idea: Jamie is actually more deeply hurt about Roy duping him into going out for that beer. He’s actually in love with Roy and just went along to Keeley’s because he was pissed. Jamie starts to withdraw from Roy, who’s still being stubbornly dense. Roy realizes eventually and had to figure out how to get his best friend/the prick he might have feeling for in turn back

ahhh thank you!! i had so much fun writing this!! i really appreciate the request! sorry it took so long to get it out, i hope you enjoy it. this is a little different than what you asked but in my defense i kinda took it and ran

Jamie runs the night over in his head again. He thinks about the way Roy had asked him to come out with him. He replays how Roy had said he was proud of him.

It's been hours since it happened, but Jamie stands in his kitchen, thinking about how Roy said he was proud. It still makes something inside him twist. He wants to hear it again, and he knows it'll keep replaying even if it was just a fuckin' lead in to Roy telling Jamie he was getting back with Keeley. It was all a lead up to Roy saying that he knew Jamie had feelings for her, but they were starting something back up. Basically that he should stay out of the way.

Such bullshit.

Jamie takes a deep breath, puts his hands out on the table in front of him. He's back home, in his kitchen, and he meant to make something to eat but he's been standing still replaying the conversation over and over again.

There was that stupid thought in his mind, that the trip to the bar was a date. Everything they had done before, just the two of them, had always been followed by or preceded by training. This was the first time Roy invited him out, to a bar, to let him drink and everything. So something stupid and deep inside of him hoped and let himself think it was a date.

He had sat down, and Roy had sat down right next to him. The memory of it still lights him up. He wishes he could still feel Roy's side pressed against him. He's not sure he'll ever get that warmth again.

He had looked at Roy so fondly, and Roy looked back, and said he was proud. Jamie is sure he blushed. It was so good. It was everything he had ever wanted. He had gotten ahead of himself. In hindsight, he had gotten too excited and assumed things he wasn't told explicitly. That's his fault.

But he was so excited. There was a warmth on his cheeks and his lips that he wanted to share with the man next to him. Roy was being so kind, and he invited him out but-

Then Roy had said "I know you have a lot of feelings for Keeley-" and his stomach dropped right there. Everything he said after that mattered but also it didn't, because only then Jamie realized it wasn't a date to Roy.

It was like there was a sharp poke to the muscle around his heart, and there was a surge of pain and resistance.

Jamie doesn't know how it happened so fast, but suddenly he wanted to scream at Roy. He wanted to tell him he was the densest man Jamie knew, tell him that it's not Keeley Jamie has feelings for.

Jamie didn't say any of that.

It wouldn't have changed anything, probably would have made it all worse.

He hadn't screamed at Roy. He just pretended every feeling of anger eating him up then was about Keeley. It was easier that way. It was easier to fight and push and insult and make up over shared stupidity than it was to say something true.

Jamie snaps to reality when he accidentally tips a cup over when his shaking hand brushes it.

He sighs and picks the cup up and puts it in his sink.

His mind won't do anything besides run the night around over and over, hoping to find some proof it all didn't happen or-

Or that Roy feels the same way for Jamie.

Jamie's traitorous heart still hopes.

Even now, after relentlessly picking apart the night, Jamie hopes for something impossible.

He had let himself hope too much and he was let down. It's the hope that kills you, he thinks.

Another deep breath, another look around his kitchen. He eyes his freezer, says fuck it, and pulls out the pint of ice cream he bought specifically for Roy when he's over. Roy doesn't deserve it anymore and Jamie wants to wallow like he just got broken up with.

If you told Jamie a year ago that his self proclaimed cheat day consisted of one singular beer and a half eaten pint of rocky road, he would have called you insane. If you told him he was in his feelings about Roy Kent, he would be marginally less surprised. His feelings about Roy aren't exactly new. He's self aware enough to know that.

He plops himself down at the telly, turns on whatever show was first on his continue watching, and promptly passes out before he can even get a fifth bite of ice cream in. So much for a cheat day.

Jamie doesn't sleep easy or comfortably. He has a vague nightmare where a growly voice calls him stupid for ever hoping for something more. Jamie knows who the voice is, but even his subconscious isn't cruel enough to put Roy's face to the voice.

He wakes up to the sound of pounding on his door. He can't make sense of where he is for a moment, cause he's not in bed, but then he sees the cup of melted ice cream still in his lap (thankfully not spilled) and it all comes flooding back.

Fuck.

He pads his way over to the door, not bothering to check the time because he can see it's still pitch black outside and by the way Roy is banging on the door he's probably late. A little after four AM then.

He opens the door mid knock, and he's greeted with an angry, and then confused Roy Kent.

Before saying anything, Roy reaches up towards Jamie's face. Jamie snaps back.

"What the fuck mate?" He looks at Roy incredulously. He'd like to think he didn't flinch, but he knows he did.

Roy sort of stills with his hand in the air for a split second before touching his own face.

"You've got somethin'- What is that?" Roy rubs at the spot on the edge of his mouth.

"What- Oh." Jamie mirrors him, and sure enough there's ice cream dried on the corner of his mouth.

Roy's hand drops to his side and Jamie realizes with a flush to his face that Roy was going to rub it off himself before Jamie jumped back.

He tries to not let himself think about it. He can't.

Except, well, he can. It'd be so easy to think about Roy's hand on his face, it'd be so easy to wonder what Roy's thumb on his face would be like. He could think about all of these. But he won't think about all of this.

That's the difference. He won't.

"You look like shit." Says Roy with a skeptical look, and Jamie straightens his back and doesn't let himself back down from Roy's analytical eyes.

"Fuck you too, grandad. Maybe you need some glasses in your old age." Jamie snaps, and it's harsher than he meant it to be, but whatever. Serves him right.

Roy looks taken aback, almost confused again, and Jamie can't fucking stand it. It's too early for this. He can't look at Roy's face anymore.

"I'm gonna go get changed." Jamie says, and he closes the door on Roy before he can even say anything. He would usually invite him in but it's that kind of shit that made Jamie hope in the first place. They're friends, and that's exactly why Jamie needs to put this distance here.

Jamie bounds up the stairs and grabs a shirt and shorts that are a touch too tight, and Jamie still can't help but wonder what Roy will think of it.

He feels like he's gonna throw up. Roy doesn't want him like Jamie wants him to.

He's back down the stairs, and he fills up a water bottle. He frowns at the way he notices his hands are still shaking while he fills up the bottle.

He screws the lid on, and goes back to the front door. Another deep breath, and he's back outside. He doesn't look at Roy before shrugging his way past. He takes off in a jog that's just a little to fast to the point that he knows Roy can't keep up.

Jamie doesn't want to talk to him right now.

He runs too hard, stretches thoroughly, and ignores the screaming from his body when he works too hard just to make sure Roy can't criticize him for anything. Jamie pretends he doesn't notice Roy's eyes on him at any given time, or the way he squints like Jamie is a puzzle he can't find the missing pieces to.

It continues that way for a while. It's uncomfortably silent, and Jamie prays Roy can feel it. He wants Roy to feel a fraction of what Jamie feels.

Something ugly builds in Jamie in place of the silence. Something so angry and vindictive and jealous. He can't stand the way Roy doesn't say anything, doesn't apologize. If anything their little hissy fit was Roy's fault.

Then that anger gets dislodged a bit when Roy grunts out "good job" and Jamie feels his flush face despite himself.

Until he reminds himself that he's not supposed to react that way.

Then Jamie wants to cry again. How could he be so stupid to hope. It's the hope that kills you, he tells himself again.

He thinks he'll never hope again.

He'll move on.

Jamie is doing burpees now. Faster than he's ever done them. Jamie can feel Roy watching him, and he fights the bile building in his throat. Not well enough, of course. He pukes into a bush on the edge of the cluster of trees bordering this park. Nothing really comes up because he didn't eat this morning and the only thing he ate last night was ice cream.

A drink of water, and he's back to the burpees. He's going even faster than before. Everything fucking burns and he wants to go home, he wants to be alone.

"Oi! Tartt-" So much for Roy not talking to him. "You're working yourself harder than I do. Take a seat." He gestures to the bench next to him, but Jamie sits on the grass where he was standing.

Jamie sits and looks at everything besides Roy to the right of him. It's nice out. Jamie can imagine himself and Roy joking around if it was any other day. The thought makes him sick.

"Jamie-" And Jamie does not look at Roy then. He freezes at his first name, he freezes at the tone of his voice. It's so much softer than before.

"I'm sorry about last night. I was stupid and Keeley isn't an object and I had no right to claim her like I did and..." Roy talks slow, like it pains him to say it. "I wasn't just being nice, I don't want our feelings for her to get in they way of our friendship."

At that Jamie does look at him, for the first time since he showed up at Jamie's door. He looks so fucking sorry, and his eyes are wide in the way Jamie has only seen when he's worried about him. He says all this but he still doesn't fucking get why Jamie is upset. Roy tricked him! Jamie thought they were going out, and they weren't, it was all so Roy could say Keeley was his. That stupid adoration inside Jamie made him crave that ownership from Roy, but it was always impossible.

Jamie feels angry again, angry about 'our feelings for her' and 'friendship'. It's annoying how much Jamie feels about all of this. It takes over his body in a way he tries to hold back. It frightens him, the anger. He's scared of hurting people again. Scared of hurting Roy. He's not sure he'll ever escape the anger. It's a part of him he thinks. It eats at his insides and tries to undo every nice thing Jamie's ever done for Roy, every feeling of companionship.

Another wave of nausea overwhelms his senses and forces his eyes shut, trying to keep every cruel word from his mouth.

Despite it all he wants to hurt Roy the way he hurts and also deep inside that's the last thing he's ever wanted. He wants to call him an old twat. He craves to admit he's the best friend he's ever had and that he'd spend every morning and night with him.

And also he wants to say he's sorry too. Taking accountability and all that. He did rip Roy's shirt and insult him a lot.

His two sides fight internally, and he has to keep the nausea and the mean shit from escaping him. Roy is barely there to him anymore, it's just his own circling thoughts, his own whirlwind.

He takes a deep breath and looks at Roy. Who's still taking him apart with those annoyingly handsome worried eyes.

"Thanks." Is the only word that leaves Jamie. It's not an apology but it's not an insult either. Jamie grunts as he stands, and he thinks about throwing in a 'grandad' there too.

He doesn't.

Instead he turns, and starts walking. Walking away. It's a few moments before Roy is up and right behind him. Jamie can't stand it, he just needs to be away. If he's next to Roy for any longer his mind will keep going about his stupid anger and his even stupider love.

Because he knows that's what it is, love. Jamie doesn't fall often and when he does he falls hard.

What a fucking realization to have while walking away from the man you fell for.

He feels fingertips brush his hand, trying to grab it.

"Jamie-" Roy sounds confused. Jamie thinks he'll do something stupid if he turns around.

He runs. He takes off sprinting. He'd be using this sort of pace on the pitch. He runs and runs until he's out of the park, and then he runs some more until he's home.

That's the only solution he feels like he's ever known. He knows how to run. It's way easier than looking at Roy again and explaining the reason he's so upset is that he's actually in love with the twat.

He slams his front door behind him and realizes he left his water bottle at the park.

Whatever. Deep breath. He can buy another one.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Deep breath. It's not Roy. He ignores it.

It's like that for a bit. He's sort of catatonic besides the purposeful deep breaths he takes, like Dr. Fieldstone taught him. His mind races with the same thoughts that they were before, somewhat subdued since Roy isn't right next to him anymore.

He wonders what Roy thinks about his behavior. Obviously he thinks this morning was about Keeley. He's not even sure why Roy is so hung up on Jamie having feelings for Keeley. He hasn't had feelings for her in a while. Why does he think Jamie's in love with her?

He doesn't get it.

The rest of Jamie's day is half hearted. He watches TV. Makes a sandwich. Buys another pint of ice cream. Eats the whole thing. He finds now he can't really give a shit about what Roy told him to do, at least not while Roy isn't here.

He passes out in front of the TV again, this time the pint of ice cream is fully eaten. Even if his stomach is gonna hate him for it in the morning.

Another restless sleep.

Another early morning for Jamie, who's awoken to pounding on the door.

He stands up and places an empty ice cream pint on the kitchen counter.

Same thing as yesterday, he goes to the door and opens it, and hopefully convincingly glares at Roy.

"I'm sick." Jamie says before even thinking.

"No you're fucking not. Listen, I let you have your space yesterday especially after the shit with Keeley but you cannot run away from training and you can't-" Roy momentarily cuts himself off.

"You're my fucking friend Tartt, and my player, and this shouldn't get in the way of that. Grow up." Roy grunts instead, and furthers his statement with a point at Jamie's shoulder.

That ugly emotional thing is back in Jamie's chest, and he has felt too many fucking emotions the past few days. Grow up? He's grown the fuck up, he knows how he feels, it's not his fault Roy is oblivious to what's right in front of him. It's like he's rubbing in his feelings for Keeley every possible second he can. It makes Jamie sick to his stomach. He's never been good with jealousy.

"Any advice on how to do that, grandad?" He snaps back, and that stupid thing inside him starts mixing with guilt. He doesn't like being cruel. He doesn't know why he is.

Roy is glaring at him until his attention snaps to something behind him. Jamie turns to see what he's staring at, but as he does Roy brushes past his shoulder as he walks in.

"Fucking hell mate, didn't your mum ever teach ya' some manners?" Jamie half shouts at Roy and doesn't notice what he's walking towards.

"The fuck is this?" Roy is holding up the empty ice cream pint that Jamie had left open on the kitchen counter. Shit. Fuck. He had been fine with ignoring Roy's direction without him knowing but-

"What's it look like?" Jamie snaps, because he doesn't know how to deescalate. Because he doesn't want to. He wants Roy to yell at him because he wants a reason to hate him. There's a hope that Roy will do something that justifies the terrible emotions in Jamie's chest.

Jamie looks at Roy waiting for anything that will make him feel less guilty for the anger inside of him.

Instead, Roy sighs, and throws the empty pint in the trash. He walks over to Jamie, who squares up his shoulders and stands a little taller, prepared for yelling. Prepared for a fight. Just instinct, innit?

Roy stops a few feet in front of him, and Jamie eyes him cautiously. He's staring at Jamie like he's trying to communicate something telepathically. Jamie doesn't get whatever he's trying to say.

"Can we talk about this?" Roy asks.

"The ice cream?" Jamie asks incredulously.

"No, fucking- Us. Can we talk about us?" Roy groans. It's like a punch to the gut. Roy is fucking trying to talk to him about his emotions, about their relationship. All of this while Jamie is standing in front of him, praying he'll get frustrated and leave like most of the other people in Jamie's life. It'd be easier to move on that way, if Roy was an asshole.

Roy isn't like he used to be though, and neither is Jamie. They wouldn't be here, in Jamie's kitchen, talking about their relationship, if they were like they used to be. Jamie hasn't wished it before, but in this moment he wishes they were like they used to be.

But, well, he doesn't wish that at all, because he can tell Roy is so confused and Jamie doesn't know what to do.

What are they doing?

They stand in front of each other in an uncomfortable stretching silence. Jamie considers why they're here.

They're friends fighting over a girl. That's all they're supposed to be. Roy wants Jamie to get over it and explain why he's still upset, but if Jamie says anything about anything he'll end up saying something he regrets. Something too mean or something too true, it's all the same result. Losing Roy.

It's silent as Roy stares at Jamie, who's trying to piece together what to say without getting overwhelmed over basically nothing.

Deep breath.

"What is there to say? We both-" Jamie is cut off by a break in his own voice. "We both want what we can't have."

"Right, we both can't have her, so why are you so fucking mad still?" Roy says.

Jamie hasn't wanted Keeley in a while. All of this had been on the assumption from Roy that he still loved her which he doesn't. If only Roy could see that. He's sure it's obvious to everyone else around him.

"You have no fucking idea." Jamie says, and he knows he shouldn't but he sort of laughs at how oblivious Roy is.

"What?" Roy snaps, and Jamie wishes he could go back to two days ago when he was in love and still hoping Roy felt the same way. Right now he's in love and trying not to pick another fight with his favorite person in the world.

"Can you just go, mate, please?" Jamie groans.

"You're supposed to be training right now." Roy says. It's not even stern or commanding, it sounds like a plea. Jamie wants to punch him in the stomach, kiss him on the lips. He doesn't want Roy to leave, but he needs that to happen, otherwise he'll do something stupid.

Like punch him. Or kiss him.

Jamie tightens his jaw and stares Roy down, silently begging for the mercy of abandonment.

"I just don't understand. Keeley said you haven't tried to talk to her since we went to her house-" Roy has talked to Keeley about Jamie? " -and now you look like shit and you're running away and you won't talk to me and I don't understand what the fuck is wrong."

"I wish you didn't give a shit, that was easier." Jamie snaps and turns away, not even thinking about what he's saying.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Roy asks, and Jamie needs him to leave. Everything he's felt in the past 48 hours is building inside of him again. Every hurt feeling and shameful and soft enough.

His hands find purchase in the countertop he now holds himself against. He leans over his sink, facing the wall and pointedly not Roy. It's easier to speak when he's not staring directly at the thing making his life so much more complicated.

"Please just go-" He grunts, once again hoping for something he knows is impossible.

This conversation is short but with the way Jamie's mind is racing it feels like hours.

"I'm not going until you explain what the fuck is wrong." Roy sighs, and Jamie groans.

That unnameable beast inside of him rears its ugly head and forces Jamie to take what he wants even if it'll ruin all of this.

Something inside him snaps, and he does it.

Something stupid.

He turns and doesn't look at Roy before he kisses him. Because he's a stupid twat who knows this will further ruin whatever they already have. He'll get pushed off, and he'll die of embarrassment and transfer to a new club, fuck off to America if no one will take him.

Jamie kisses Roy softly, chastely, contrasting with the way he stormed over to Roy. There's the scratch of his beard, and his surprisingly soft lips, and Jamie wishes again. He wishes this wasn't happening like this.

It's over in a second and there's not a second before he's talking again.

Holding back tears, he says "It wasn't about Keeley. It was about you, you stupid twat."

Jamie is staring at the floor when he says it, before promptly turning on his heel and once again making a run for it. Everything inside of him is gone, washed away by the tide of mind numbing emptiness.

"I'm sorry." Jamie murmers back as he makes a start to dash up the stairs.

Jamie is already crushed by the weight of his own shame for doing that, for pushing himself on Roy. He had gotten better about his impulses, but he's still Jamie, a fact that disappoints himself almost daily. He'll never not be himself.

He's not three steps away before a hand catches his wrist and pulls him back.

A solid hand steadies him when he stumbles back, and another hand cups his face far more gently than he deserves.

Fucking hell.

Roy is kissing him. Roy is kissing him back, really kissing him, and Jamie is just standing here. Roy's hands hold Jamie's face, and his wrist, and he's kissing him.

The shock barely wears off in the few seconds before Jamie is kissing back. Holy shit. This is real.

He's at a loss for a way to describe the way he lights up. A candle could take his place and Jamie doesn't think it'd be any warmer or brighter than he feels.

The kiss is almost familiar, and sort of pushy and insistent. It's Roy fucking Kent.

It's not enough before Roy pulls back. Jamie holds back from chasing his lips.

Jamie inhales sharply and opens his eyes to see Roy in front of him looking so fond and so handsome.

"Jamie- I'm sorry. I like you too." He murmers.

That does a number on Jamie too.

What the fuck? Jamie thinks.

"What the fuck?" He also says it out loud. "But you like Keeley-"

"I was- um-" Roy suddenly looks squeamish and now he won't meet Jamie's eyes. "I was jealous of Keeley, I think. I saw you two talking and I thought I was jealous of you but-" He waves his hand between the two of them.

Jamie can't help the way he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach at the fact that Roy just admitted he was jealous of Keeley for just talking to Jamie.

"Oh. Oh." Jamie breathes out softly, scared that if he talks too loud it'll ruin the delicate admission.

"Yeah. I didn't realize until last night when I realized I had thought about you and fucking worried about you more than I had thought about Keeley in a while."

"You're so stupid." Jamie laughs to himself, pulling Roy into a hug just a touch too tight.

"Fuck off, what?" Roy says right next to Jamie's ear.

"I'm so down bad for you mate, you have no clue." Jamie smiles into Roy's neck.

There's a new overwhelming thing inside of him, warm and burning in a pleasant way. He wants to kiss him again.

So he does.

"We can talk about this later, can I kiss you?" Jamie asks, and Roy nods, and it's like nothing happened in the past day.

Jamie no longer has to fight those emotions inside himself and it's a breath of fresh air after having nearly drowned. Jamie knows the anger but this is new. The rainbow after the rain.

He could live in this moment forever.

#im so sorry if the pacing is weird #royjamie #fics #mine #jamie tartt #i love prompts I'll happily take more #asks

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