#but if he can’t at least improve communication soon it’s like

[codgod]

i still feel like the money from the egg figures is gonna go to the eggmins, including lumi and shade and anyone else that has left/been fired [maybe with the exception of like, flippa and tilín’s original admins since they were only there for less than a month but who knows]

like i agree that the way quackity is going about things sucks, with his mindset being that because he doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep he won’t say anything at all, but i don’t think it means the eggmins won’t be paid. i’d assume, based on what he’s said, that he’s waiting to see how much money the merch makes before he promises anyone any amount of money. which again. is dumb, because if that is the case he could still just Say That. but i don’t think it’s a baseless assumption at the very least

[babyleostuff]

Hi hi! Could you possibly write more angst? (Any member) Like the mini ones (?) Like fights/arguments and whatnot :)) w fluff at the end (or ending of your choice :P) thank you!!! Love your writing!! <3

fights with seventeen | OT13

I'm SO sorry about being so late with this, but I've been really busy with my exams and I didn't have that much time to write. But now that my vacation began, I'm going to catch up with my requests. Still, I hope you enjoy this one <3

☾₊ ⊹ currently playing: a glimpse of us by joji

𓆩♡𓆪 CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

Of course you’d fight over small things, like in every relationship, but big fights are a very rare occurrence in your relationship. Seungcheol hates seeing you upset, so often those arguments will be over before they even begin. 

But if you got into a big fight, it would get loud and messy. Seungcheol is competitive and stubborn, so if he gets fixated on one thing it can be hard to change his mind about it. 

If you ever leave the house after a fight, he’ll become a worried mess. He'll call everyone he knows that you might have gone to and if none of them knows where you are he’ll be panicking massively. Don’t ever do that to him, no matter how angry you are at each other at that moment, he can’t stand the thought that you might get hurt and he will not be able to help you. 

Would never allow you to sleep on the couch after a fight and even if you’d do that, he’d carry you back to the bedroom. 

He’d blame himself for days if you ever cry during a fight, no matter whose fault it was, he’d always blame himself for making you cry. 

𓆩♡𓆪 YOON JEONGHAN 

Some fights would get you raising your voices at each other, but those types of arguments would be VERY rare and only happen if either of you were very tired or drained from any type of work or schedules. 

Normally, neither him nor you would be able to raise your voices at each other, the fight in itself was painful enough, you didn’t need any screaming or yelling. 

Both of you would try to explain your point of views, what you think the other did wrong or how they could improve themselves. You’d both be very respectful of each other’s opinions and never make fun or tease in situations like those. 

Even during the argument, he’d want to hold your hand or at least be near you. He’d still want to feel connected to you and not put extra space between you. After the fight he’d also stay near you, hug you a lot and never let go of your hand. 

𓆩♡𓆪  HONG JOSHUA 

Your fights would be very mature and calm. Surely, you would get frustrated and annoyed at each other, but never truly angry or furious. He would never even let you. 

You would resolve any of your arguments as quickly as you could, not even once thinking about giving each other the silent treatment. Even if he was away on tour, he’d try to talk to you as soon as possible or even text you, to let you know that he’d want to figure stuff out. 

Sometimes, especially if it was more of a small argument, he’d be petty and annoying with you, knowing how to push your buttons, to make you more frustrated. But he would never take it too far, he’d just simply want to tease you a bit.

Knowing that you need some kind of reassurance after a fight, he’d always hug you tightly, kissing the side of your head, where there would be no place for any teasing. He would be very gentle with you then. 

𓆩♡𓆪  WEN JUNHUI 

In the beginning of your relationship he’d have a bit of trouble talking things out, as he never knew whether you wanted space or not. He was always too scared to ask, since he didn’t want to make things even worse between you. 

With time though, you’d learn how to properly talk with each other about those kinds of stuff and your communication skills would only get better and better. 

Still, any fights that you’d have would be very calm and neither of you would raise your voices at each other. If, for some reason, you’d get so angry that you’d want to say some hurtful things, you’d just take a break and spend some time apart, trying to collect your thoughts and think about how to solve the fight without hurting the other one. 

The aftermath of any fight would be full of love and reassurance - warm hugs and sweet kisses. 

𓆩♡𓆪  KWON SOONYOUNG 

He’d get so emotional the second he figured you were actually having a fight. Especially during those big fights, that happened once in a blue moon, but still. He would be so torn, because on one hand he’s angry with you, but on the second IT’S YOU, how can he be angry with YOU? 

He would probably say whatever came to his mind, not really paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, which sometimes would do more harm than good. He would apologise right after he released what he’d said, and I'm sure he'd keep on apologising for the next few days, feeling extremely guilty. 

After the argument, he would want you to hug him and keep him close to you, letting him know that you’re not upset with him anymore and that you still love him. He would also be clinging to you even more, trying to find comfort in your arms. 

𓆩♡𓆪   JEON WONWOO

He is usually quite silent during your fights and you’d be the one who does most of the talking. He’d just simply nod to everything you say and share his view when you’re done. 

Never raises his voice at you, no matter how angry or frustrated he is with you. Even after a tiring day, he’d listen to all of your complaints and try to work things out before going to bed. He can’t imagine sleeping without holding you in some way, and he knows that if you two don’t talk it out, you’d probably want to be left alone. 

It’s hard for him to actually apologise, but you’d know he’s sorry from his acts of service. The next day, after your fight, he’d be extra attentive to you, never leaving your side and constantly asking you if you need anything. 

If you’d ask him for space he, of course, would give it to you, but would feel so lonely without you by his side. He would even try to make your favourite dish to make you feel a little bit better and even though he’d fail massively, it would still make you all warm and fuzzy inside. 

𓆩♡𓆪  LEE JIHOON

Very calm, but you're not always capable of telling how he actually feels. He could be fuming inside, but you wouldn’t have known. A lot like Wonwoo, he would be mostly quiet, trying to figure out how he wants to express his emotions. 

Because he’s not great with dealing with his own emotions, he would have a bit of a hard time explaining his point of view on whatever you were fighting about. Still, he would be grateful that you were so understanding, even in such a situation.

If you’d want to take the couch, he’d let you. But, sometime during the night, he would come out of your bedroom with an extra blanket to tuck you in and make sure that you’re comfortable. 

The next day he would be very attentive to you, but in a silent way. He’d try to make you breakfast, do the most important chores for you, help you out in any way that he could. 

𓆩♡𓆪  XU MINGHAO 

Any fights or arguments with him are very calm. Even though he sometimes wants to scream out in frustration, he never does that. He knows that screaming at each other won’t help out in any way. 

His top one priority is to talk it out as soon as you both are ready, without getting more upset with each other. He just wants to get it over with and get back to normal. 

I can see him holding your hand while you talk it out. He wants to stay connected to you and give you a kind of reassurance, that even though you're upset with each other, he’s still there for you and loves you no matter what. 

The night after a fight is kind of silent. But not uncomfortable. You’re just very soft and careful around each other, not saying much, but still being in each other’s presence. You cuddle closely that night and exchange some comforting kisses as apologies. 

𓆩♡𓆪  KIM MINGYU 

Will either behave like a diva and drama queen or like a pouty child. It all depends on the situation, on whose fault it is and how emotionally he’s feeling. If he’s drained and tired, he won’t have the energy to fight with you and would want to resolve it as quickly as possible. 

But, when he’s feeling like the usual him, the fights tend to get a bit bigger and emotional. He is stubborn, to the point where he’ll keep fighting with you even when he knows he’s wrong. Will constantly side eye you and sigh time and time again. 

If he ever sees that you're getting really upset about the fight he will stop, though. There is nothing worse for him than seeing you so drained and sad and he’ll even apologise first, even when it’s your fault. He just doesn’t want to let such petty and little things come in the way of your happiness. 

Even when you fall asleep still a bit angry with him, he’ll still cuddle you (or he would be touching you in some way, he just has to). 

𓆩♡𓆪  LEE SEOKMIN 

I’m sorry, but there is no way you could have a big fight with this man. The second he sees you getting upset or angry over something he has done, he’ll talk to you immediately.

Can get a bit emotional during fighting sometimes, but he never does that to manipulate you in some way. He just can’t stand the fact that you’re actually upset with each other.  

Never raises his voice at you, never gets petty with you, NO silent treatments whatsoever. He doesn’t understand how someone can ignore their partner when they're upset with them. Why not simply talk things out and get back to normal?  Every second spent on fighting, means less time to spend it on how you’re actually meant to spend it - happy and having fun! 

Will always gives you a lot of hugs and cuddles after a fight, maybe not necessarily to cheer you up, but to reassure himself that you’re not going anywhere and to let you know how much he appreciates you. 

𓆩♡𓆪 BOO SEUNGKWAN 

So dramatic. So petty. So over the top. 

He would be rambling non stop, not letting you speak. He would let out all of his frustrations and annoyances in no time, it would leave him almost breathless. After that, he’d listen to you and do his best to understand your point of view. 

Big fights wouldn’t really happen in your relationship, as both of you would get too emotional and start crying and apologising upon seeing each other's sad faces. Still, you’d talk it out and never leave an argument unresolved. 

He’d need reassurance after any kind of fight, big or small. It would make him worry that you might want to take a break from him or even break up and that’s when you’d have to tell him that you’d never leave him because of a silly fight. 

After one of those silly small fights, you’d laugh about it afterwards, realising how stupid you both were to fight over something so insignificant.

𓆩♡𓆪 CHWE VERNON 

He’d be very logical and reasonable during any of your fights, though I can’t really imagine any big fights happening between the two of you. You’d try to avoid any conflicts and always talk things out before they escalate. 

If, for any reason, you’d want to sleep on the couch, he’d tell you to sleep in your bed and that he’d take the couch instead. You’d probably wake up sometime during the night and walk out to the living room wrapped in a blanket, laying down next to him. 

There are no silent treatments with this dude, he’ll never let you ignore him when you’re angry. As passive as he usually is, he just can’t stand you ignoring him, especially when he doesn;t know what he has done to upset you. 

Usually, you watch a movie after a fight to calm yourselves a bit and give  each other some time to think, but still be in each other's presence. 

𓆩♡𓆪  LEE CHAN 

Please don’t fight with him. He’s always so soft spoken with you and it doesn’t change even when you fight. He absolutely hates fighting with you - hates the fact that he can’t hug you, hates that you’re angry and upset. He’ll do everything to make it right again. 

There is a big chance that he’ll even cry during a big fight, especially when you both say things that you don’t really mean. He’s already mentally tired from all his schedules and he can’t stand the fact that he can’t find comfort in the person that he loves the most. 

Similarly to Seungcheol, he will never let you take the couch and will never let you leave the house. He’s simply too scared that you might leave him or that something might happen to you and he wouldn’t be able to cope with that. 

Even when you fall asleep still angry with each other, during the night, you’ll find your way back to him, cuddling into him. 

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

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

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

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

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through. 

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference. 

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again. 

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things. 

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him. 

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana. 

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood. 

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally. 

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request. 

Not happening. 

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.”  While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled. 

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness. 

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not. 

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head. 

She’s clearly looking for Solana. 

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him. 

And that’s not the case. 

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy. 

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze. 

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway. 

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list. 

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.” 

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day. 

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!” 

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins. 

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air. 

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs. 

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?” 

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.” 

Dulce barks in response. 

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit. 

He got the blueprint from Roman. 

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way. 

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.” 

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.” 

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.  

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans. 

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does. 

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment. 

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit. 

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown. 

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled. 

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive. 

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in. 

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma. 

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess. 

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done. 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign. 

Protectiveness. 

It feels like he’s being protective of her. 

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around. 

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother. 

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable. 

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?” 

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his. 

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually.  Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.” 

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact. 

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now. 

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch. 

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.” 

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right. 

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage. 

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her.  “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that. 

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even? 

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things. 

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over. 

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken. 

So unlike her. 

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such.  “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her. 

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man. 

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him. 

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does. 

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing. 

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.  

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them. 

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back. 

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom. 

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in. 

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later. 

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously. 

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were. 

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired. 

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat. 

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back. 

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity. 

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target. 

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other. 

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies. 

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning. 

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting. 

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink. 

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really. 

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped. 

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure. 

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear. 

It’s just the calm. 

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable. 

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest. 

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes. 

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up. 

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs. 

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt. 

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being mad and getting snippy about PDA? I know it’s double barreled, but average the two.

My brakes went out. Out out. Pedal hit the floor. $3,000 later, and I won’t have my car for at least another week. Help is coming soon (borrowing a family’s car), but until then the walk to or from work is an hour long. I’m not broke but everybody’s three months from homeless and I’m out here struggling as a student. My car breaking down has been the last straw for me, and I’m unfortunately shutting down in big ways.

My roommate Guy has been historically so overwhelmed by anxiety that he’s been really cruel and selfish in times of stress (anyone’s stress.) Things are improving, but my temper is short on my best days, and he knows. A line of communication we’ve opened up when I ask for his help with literally anything is to try and get around the parts of DBT DEARMAN (iykyk) that aren’t serving us and focus on a) a definitive answer b) THEN make moves to compromise or qualify our answer. I asked him for a ride home tonight, and he said he and his partner were going to drink together that night (so he wouldn’t) but offered to help me tomorrow. That’s fine. Or, is it? It feels like a dick move to PLAN to drink instead… especially when he’s not supposed to drink on his medication. When the roles have been reversed (it’s never been exactly the same, he’s never experienced bad car failures, but my love language is helping), I have taken care of things for him and his S/O (who doesn’t drive.) I feel kind of hurt, but like I can’t be mad.

Here’s where it gets weird. I walk home. It takes me a second hour because I walked slow and took some backways. I have a big lonely spiral and I’m in tears all over hell and highway. I get home, and they’re snuggling on our couch. I HATE PDA. It makes me feel Horrible and lonely and unloveable… and it’s a non-negotiable if I want to have an OK time. They know that. I immediately comment on it rudely (trust me that it was rude; I have ADHD and the depression brain fog is real and I have no clue what I actually said) they come back with “we’re just sitting here 👁️👄👁️” and then I disappear to shower.

They’re both deeply anxious people, which compounds the guilt. I know they dread me coming home (Guy told me so at one point… literally said that) because of my irritability after twelve hour days as a grad student in a high-burnout field, and I let them down again today. What do y’all think, AITA?

[rileyslibrary]

HELLO!!!! Soo i was wondering if you could do a very strictly platonic COD MW2 141 (or others, whatever u want!) x gn or fem (she/they pronouns or they/them pronouns, both are fine to me) reader 😸 it can be them interacting, or on a mission, or something along those lines!!! For aome specifications, i was thinking of the reader being the youngest in the 141, but still very skilled at what they do. Lots of love!!! ❤️❤️

Hmmm…I believe have just the thing for you, anon! *climbs up the rolling library ladder and comes down with a story*. I was saving this for another time but, here, you can have it.

(It doesn’t have everything you requested in it, and I added a few things here and there, but I think it works. Enjoy!)

———————————————————————

“Are they okay?”

“I don’t know, but I think they’re breathing.”

“You sure?”

Soap hikes up his pants and settles on a bench, a few meters away from where your body lies. He tilts his head and squints his eyes, searching for any signs of movement.

“Yes,” he finally says to Gaz, who sits beside him, legs stretched out and back resting against the concrete wall. “You’re right—they’re breathing.”

You all just returned to your temporary base from your latest mission, exhausted but unharmed. It has been a while since you managed to secure a win, and a much-needed one at that, after a string of defeats which began to take a toll on the team’s morale. Fights started to break out, filled with little jabs of what could have been done better, whose fault it was, and pointing fingers instead of acknowledging the team’s effort.

On the outside, you maintained a professional facade for the contractors and the world, but the strain was beginning to show behind closed doors. It was like a house with a pristine front porch, while the backyard concealed a chaotic mess, hidden from view.

But this time, you nailed it—all of you. Whether it was luck, improved communication, better strategy, or the alignment of stars, you managed to come through. And suddenly, the future seemed a little brighter, for now.

“I can hear you, you know.” You murmur, slowly pushing yourself up into a seated position.

“Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Soap says, “we were just making sure you were alright; you took quite the beating earlier.”

You give him a tired smile. “No worries,” you reply, stretching your arms and legs. “I was just doing some breathing exercises to relax.”

“You know,” he says to Gaz, “I read about these breathing exercises, and they’re supposed to—”

“You read?”

Your attention shifts to the corner nearby, where Ghost and Price stand, engaged in their conversation about the mission. Price smiles at Ghost’s comment, but Ghost’s tone suggests he isn’t joking. It’s hard to tell since his voice always sounds the same, whether telling jokes or giving orders.

“Yes,” Soap replies, “and they say it’s supposed to help calm certain edgy, skull-faced boys.”

“As a matter of fact, I think you would all benefit from this,” you state, spreading your arms wide, inviting them to join you. “Lie down.”

“Not my way of calming down, kid,” Ghost replies, “I’d much rather prefer a glass of bourbon.”

“Do you have a glass of bourbon right now, Lt?”

“No.”

“Then lie down.”

“Order me one more time, you little sh-”

Price claps his hands once and places his right hand on Ghost’s shoulder, giving him gentle pats.

“Come on, brother,” he says, “We have nothing else to do right now—our flight won’t be arriving anytime soon, and my back is killing me.”

You’ve often wondered what makes the Lieutenant so salty, and each time you resorted to blaming that mask of his. Having it on all the time must be uncomfortable, like a bra that you can’t wait to sling across the room at the end of a long day. But you never doubted what brings him back to his senses or at least makes him more accepting—it was Price himself.

Ghost sighs and removes the towel he had draped over his shoulder. He places it on the ground and lies down. Soap, Gaz, and Price follow his lead, with Price placing a towel while the others rest directly on the concrete. Ghost mutters something like “ya filthy mutts” under his breath, and you make soothing hushing noises to prevent any potential conflict from arising. The last thing you want right now is a simple breathing exercise to turn into a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu session.

You wait for them to settle in a comfortable position, and with a gentle voice, you begin guiding them through.

“Let’s start by taking a deep breath through the nose,” you whisper. “Feel the air fill your lungs. Hold it in, then slowly exhale through your mouth.”

You continue the guidance, leading them through a series of deep breaths. You focus on the softness in your voice and pair it with the rhythm of your words to create a soothing cadence.

“As you inhale, imagine a wave washing over you,” you continue. “And as you exhale, imagine releasing any burden, letting it drift away with each breath.”

As you guide them through the breathing exercise, everything becomes so serene, even for you, who acts as their guide. There’s some heavy breathing and slight shifting here and there, but that’s much better than the usual arguments, yelling, and complaints. There are no more blame games or defeated postures. You have all worked so hard. Now you and the team can finally find some peace.

You twist your body to look at your teammates, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you find them all asleep, like children at nap time.

Ghost has one hand behind his head, the other resting on his chest. He has finally let go of the tension that usually consumes him. So much for that glass of bourbon, Lieutenant, you think to yourself.

Soap is curled up to the side, with his knees drawn closer to his body. He has formed a pillow with his hands and placed them under his head.

Next to him, Gaz lies on his back, one leg straight and the other bent to the side, like a ballerina caught mid-spin.

Price placed his hat on his face, shielding his eyes from the light. His legs are crossed, and his fingers are interlocked on his stomach.

You continue speaking, but softer now, to avoid waking them. You rise up, careful not to disturb them, and move silently to the door, leaving it slightly open, to not startle them upon closing it.

You step out into the hallway and close your eyes, taking one deep breath of your own.

———————————————————————

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You {One-Shot}**

Title: Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You {One Shot} **

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warning: Cursing, 18+ Mature Content, Fluff, NSFW, Smut

Words: 4.7

Synopsis: You are Lewis' date to the opening night of his LH44 Charity Gala. It is a night of performances and interviews, and you are in awe of your man. You find yourself mesmerized by him the entire night.

Note: This was inspired by the above picture and further sparked by a song, Lauryn Hill's version of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”. It fit so well. I won't lie the above picture even had me stop and state for a few minutes. Lol.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Pic Not My Own, Found on Pinterest***

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。

You had the perfect view from where you stood. You were across the ballroom surrounded by at least a dozen people all talking to you about something of importance to them, how wonderful the evening was going, how amazing you looked, or how spectacular the man of the hour was. Your man.

Tonight was the first-ever charity gala event for LH44 charity, and it was also the first official outing for you and Lewis as a couple. You'd tried to talk him out of it but he deemed tonight fitting to be your official announcement because it was also the charity's official opening night. Tonight would be an endeavor of love with performances, speeches, and spoken word all done by the youth from underserved communities in hopes of spreading diversity and improving representation where it counts. Lewis thought there would be no better night than tonight, a labor of love from both ends.

The more you thought about how he'd proposed the idea, your heart fluttered. You loved this man more and more every day and you knew soon you would be an absolute goner.

"Did you know he is the most charitable athlete?"

A gorgeous woman in rose gold whispered to her friends who nodded looking equally as impressed as those around her who'd heard. It was true. Once he was ranked in the top 5 of generous athletes but now he'd surpassed even that. Your heart expanded with the pride you felt. He served the praise and admiration he got.

The clamor of voices begging for a moment of his time and attention got louder and drew your attention. There he was standing in front of rows of reporters who were holding out mics and cameras to catch every word he said.

The man always held everyone captivated when he was around. Always. You watched him talk with his hands fastened behind his back and you nearly went weak in the knees. The orange he wore only brightened his face and the perfect lighting made him look ethereal--angelic even. You gawked at him marveling at his gorgeousness. Sometimes you couldn't believe there existed a man as pretty as he was. It was unfair really.

The butterflies in your gut took flight again for the umpteenth time tonight. It seemed only seconds passed between moments he took your breath away. Heaven help you, you could possibly already be a goner.

Just then, Lewis' eyes trailed around the room as he spoke and landed right on you. You released a soft gasp as you pressed your palm to your stomach. A slow smile spread his lips before he winked at you and that was it. From this moment forward this man would have an unfair hold and advantage over you.

You tried to tear your eyes away but couldn't so like a stalker you stood there staring at him. You didn't know how long you remained that way but the next thing you knew he was standing before you. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Mmm," he moaned, "Rose, Gardenia, vanilla, and brown sugar. Your scent has been following me all night, kitten. I've craved it," he whispered.

He'd craved your scent? You nearly scoffed. It was hovering on embarrassing how much you craved his. Lewis took your hand, laced his fingers with yours then smiled.

"Are you all right, kitten?"

You nodded, unable to think straight much less get words out. He smiled again then led you through the crowds toward the tables. Everyone you passed you both nodded your head and smiled. Once at the table, Lewis pulled out your chair and allowed you to sit before pushing it in. He then joined you, sidling a little closer than the predetermined location the chair had been.

You smelled his cologne, and it infiltrated your senses having an almost mind-numbing effect. Your thighs parted slightly just as your breathing picked up. In only half a second you felt like you'd run a 1000-meter sprint with the best of track and field.

"I can't get over how enthralling you look tonight. I thought we'd look like 2 Sesame Street characters in this orange, but you make me look good."

You snorted.

"Damn right I do. Orange just might be your new color, love," you flirted as you softly caressed his cheek.

Lewis's smile was adorable as he took in the compliment. When he turned to kiss your palm your belly flipped yet again making you take a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right?"

Swallowing back down your heart that had leaped into your throat, you nodded.

"I'm super proud of you is all."

Lewis leaned closer making a direct line for your lips, but a sweet tiny voice called for him.

"Mr. Hamilton?"

To his other side stood an adorable girl about 7 or 8 with a timid smile on her face. Lewis gave your hand an apologetic squeeze before he turned to her with the brightest smile.

"Well hello there pretty girl."

A small crowd gathered around to watch the interaction and every face looked even more enamored with him than before. You watched the girl give him a bouquet of flowers, yellow sunflowers surrounded by multi-colored wildflowers, and a photo album that was filled with pictures she'd drawn and painted, all of him.

Her mother let Lewis know that the girl was a huge fan of his and never missed a race no matter what and how inspiring he'd been to her. She went on to thank him for his charity work because he was the reason the girl, Azbeka, was able to study at a prestigious school.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears at how stinking cute all of this was. Lewis asked the girl if he could hug her then melted when she threw her arms around him. Collectively, the crowd let out an "aww" which made you melt. As you felt your ovaries painfully beg for the essence of him, you grabbed your glass of champagne and chugged it down hoping to douse the sudden onslaught of feels that made you crave a tiny replica of him to cradle in your arms.

There will be none of that, Y/N, you said to yourself in your head, determined not to let your body work against you. Not tonight. If you fell prey tonight of all nights you knew you'd end up the mother of Lewis Hamilton’s firstborn. Crossing your legs you held on tightly to what remained of your wits.

As the night progressed you listened to the heartfelt stories of those in attendance, watched musical performances, and even heard speeches from those who had been greatly benefited by Lewis' charity. The smile on Lewis' face never slipped. With every performance and every personalized account, he looked happier and happier, and the more he smiled the brighter he glowed.

You were so enraptured by him that no one else managed to get much of your attention. Several people joked about the way you stared at him which made you hide behind your hands from embarrassment. Every time someone brought it up, Lewis' large hand found its way to grip your thigh where the split of your dress fell open. Every time he did that your belly flipped.

Halfway through the night when you felt him squeeze you again, you knew that he knew his effect from the glint in his eyes. Lewis licked his lips then slyly bit his bottom lip.

"You're awfully quiet, kitten. Are you sure you're all right?"

You leaned to his ear then whispered, "You're just too good to be true. I can't take my eyes off of you. It feels like heaven when we touch. I can't wait to hold you. This thing that we found and that's finally ours--I just thank god I'm alive because I can't take my eyes off of you."

When your eyes met his you saw the thin veil of water welling in them, then he clenched his jaw right before his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Ehm."

He lifted your hand to his lips then peppered kisses across your knuckles. Across the way, someone called his name then beckoned him over. He raised a finger in the air indicating for the party to give him a moment then he leaned to you.

"I love you so much."

Your heart once again launched itself into your throat. You'd imagined when those words would come out of his mouth for the first time. You wondered if it would be when you were entangled in each other's arms, doing mundane things like cooking together or working out, or even when you were around friends and family. You hadn't imagined it would be when you were surrounded by hundreds of people with eyes and cameras on you for one of the most important nights for his foundation.

You pouted and fought the tears that wanted freedom. Lewis stared deeply into your eyes overcome with emotions that were plain to see on his face. As you were about to speak his name was called again. He cleared his throat then dabbed the corner of his eye.

"I have to go."

You nodded and watched him walk away. Every few steps he looked back at you as if he thought you'd slip out on him now that the words had been said. Did he think you didn't feel the same? The thought was almost unbelievable. He was Lewis Hamilton. Everyone loved him. Everyone. There was no shortage of people who tried to get in with him and get under him.

As he did yet another interview you watched as his eyes found yours every couple of sentences. Even from where you sat, you could see the love in his eyes, and you couldn't believe it. He loved you. He really loved you. This wasn't just sex, or companionship. This wasn't him trying to work you out of his system or no strings attached. It was something more, much more.

The longer you sat with his love confession the giddier you became. You wanted him to know how you felt too. However, at every opportunity he was called or whisked away by a cute kid or an eager interviewer making it impossible for you to tell him.

When the crowd of women that were around you broke apart you saw him laughing with a few of his friends that had come out to support him. That was when you slinked across the ballroom with your eyes on the prize--him. When you were right behind him you motioned for his friends to not tell him. Then you wrapped your arm around his midsection resting your palm on his abs. You resisted the urge to feel him up then grazed your lips against his ear. Lewis's body tensed but then relaxed after a few moments as if his body knew it was you.

"I love you,” you whispered.

Your voice came out breathy and low, it was easy to miss but when he spun around to look at you, you knew he'd heard you. He didn't speak, there was no need for words. He just stared into your eyes as if searching them for a lie, but you knew he wouldn't find one. You meant these words. You felt them with every fiber of your being.

Slowly Lewis smiled and then began to chuckle until it turned into an adorable giggle. Then the two of you stood there giggling together as if you were 3-year-olds who'd just shared the silliest secret.

After that, the rest of the event went by in a blur. You were officially on cloud 15, fuck 9. You felt like you'd drank all the champagne in the place. By the time you left and made it back to Lewis' your hand was tightly clasped within his making you giddy with feelings. There was something about when he held your hand that made you feel safe and taken care of.

When his lips found yours in the bathroom as you stepped into the path of one of the many shower heads, you moaned. Lewis wrapped his arms around you holding you against his body. The kiss was passionate and so damn sensual that you quickly got lost not caring that your hair was full-on wet. When he pressed your back to the expensive stone wall, he wasted no time lifting you against him.

"Do you know how many pictures there are of me just staring at you?"

Lewis snorted.

"Are there a lot?"

"Too many. It's so embarrassing."

Lewis peppered kisses down your neck as he rocked his hips rubbing himself against your already wet center.

"Can't believe you have room to feel anything besides this right now. I must not be doing my job right," he said as he took your nipple between his teeth.

You threw your head back and groaned out.

"Oh, Lewis."

Before he claimed your lips, "That's what I thought," fell from his.

The time for talking was done. His lips claimed you with expertise like they'd been crafted for this particular purpose. Raking your fingers down his back you scraped his flesh making him moan against your lips which of course reverberated right between your legs.

"Mmm!"

When Lewis cupped your breasts he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger using the slickness of the water to aid his glide.

"So fuckin' perfect," he mumbled.

Your eyes met and the fire you felt within was what you saw in his orbs. You couldn't wait anymore.

"Fuck me, Lewis."

He grinned then licked your nipple before he sucked in the peak. "You are definitely nowhere near needy enough for me to fuck you."

You tried to reach down between your bodies to fist his need, but he beat you by pressing the smooth hard mass right against your mound igniting a flame right in your clit.

"Fuck!”

"Good girls say please."

"Please," you panted as he circled his hips.

"How bad do you want my dick, kitten?"

You bit down on the spot where his neck and shoulder met making him grunt. His body jerked and for the briefest of moments, you felt the tip of his erection dip between your folds.

"Ha, yes!”

The pleasure was short-lived because Lewis pulled free then lowered you in the same breath. In seconds, you were face to face with the stone wall as Lewis pressed his hard cock against the swells of your ass sending your cheek pressing into the cool surface.

"Your ass is a thing of beauty."

To push him over the edge you wined your lower half then popped your hips sending each ass cheek shaking.

"Mm."

A heavy hand fell onto your ass spanking you once, twice then a third time. Lewis then gripped your hips as he rocked forward nudging his hard cock between your ass cheeks. It was a sight you had to see, so you glanced over your shoulder and watched him buck back and forth. Each thrust forward gave you a peek-a-book look at the swollen tip of his length and the mushroom tip held you captivated.

"Mm, you look so good between my ass baby."

In response, Lewis pushed down on his shaft allowing it to drop down onto your bottom with a heavy and wet-sounding "thwack".

"Whose ass was that?"

You smiled. "Yours baby. It's all yours."

With a sinister grin, he dropped down then spread your cheeks before burying his face between your legs.

"Oh fuck baby!”

His intention wasn't to tease you or to prepare you for him but to drive you absolutely bat shit crazy. As his tongue laved at your folds he sloppily slurped your flesh using the water that cascaded down your body to aid in producing the nastiest sounds that even a porno would be jealous of.

Your fingers scraped at the wall desperately trying to find something to hold on to as he ravished your pleasure trove. However, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep you from exploding so that was what you did. Exploded.

You came all over his mouth shaking as the wetness gushing out of you competed with the spray from the showerheads. Lewis moaned and slurped up every drop then stood looking like the Cheshire cat who had time for a drink. He was soaked and from the way he licked his lips, he looked like he was ready for more.

When he pressed himself against you again he cupped your breasts.

"You taste like champagne and mangos. Fuck I can't wait to bury myself so deep inside of you that you can't breathe or think."

Holy shit you thought envisioning just that. Just when you were about to take matters into your own hands you smelled his body wash just before Lewis began giving you a very special bath. He used the excuse of getting you clean as a front to feel you up and tease every single part of your body. By the time he was directing you under the showerhead, you were more than ready to return the favor.

While wrapped in a cocoon of his scent you slowly rubbed his body making sure to get every nook, slope, and sliver of skin. The milky suds clung to him and as they evaporated slid down the toned muscles that he'd worked so hard for. When you whirled around to do his back, your inner thoughts slipped out.

"For fuck's sake you're beautiful."

Lewis chuckled then pulled your arms around him so you were pressed against his back.

"Me?"

You trapped his ear lobe between your teeth then nibbled down making him moan. Slowly your hands dipped down his abs until you found the treasure at the end of the pleasure trail. Taking your time, you fisted him then stroked along his length, up and down, up and down.

When he dropped his head back a long groan echoed in the shower. "Fuuuck, Y/N!”

"Mmm, you like that? Like the way my hand holds you just right? Like how I know just what you need?"

Your hand sped thanks to those milky suds that had made their way down his body. In a matter of seconds, he was moaning, grunting, and mumbling your name until suddenly he spun you into the water.

As it cascaded down your bodies washing the soap from your flesh, Lewis' lips found yours, and his fingers found your clit.

"Mmm."

From his actions, you could tell he wasn't trying to tease you. He was trying to make you cum, and you knew you were but seconds from doing just that.

Your breathing became ragged and uneven, and your hips bucked against his fingers needing more than he was giving. That was when Lewis pinched your clit and your body shot upward. If it weren't for Lewis' hand holding the back of your neck keeping your face in front of his you would have physically shot through the ceiling and roof and then into the night sky.

"Aaah!"

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking beautiful when you cum, kitten. That's it!"

The next thing you knew you were in his arms then on your back across the softest sheets ever. You moaned and writhed as you rode the wave of your orgasm, indulging in the way your skin tingled. It all felt so unreal. This man took you over the edge unlike any other before. In your aroused haze you stared at him and tailed his wet body pressing him to memory. You didn't want to forget not even an inch of him. You wanted to be in the middle of a meeting when a sudden flash of this moment attacks you turning you into a smirking mess until you had to excuse yourself to video him to knock one out.

Your eyes locked on his engorged length and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. He was perfect. Long, thick, and completely intimidating. If you were faint of heart you would have flustered and looked away worrying how you'd ever take him. Luckily you weren't faint of heart. You knew how to take him now. You were a pro.

"See something you like?"

You grinned. "Nope. I see something I love on someone I love."

Those words were all it took for baby girl Lewis to appear. He smirked until he smiled then giggled. How adorable. As he laid on top of you, his knee nudged your thighs apart making room for himself to rest between them.

"Mmm."

A squeal left you as he nipped at your nipple, raking his teeth over the pebbled bud. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him right there. Lewis took the hint and intensified the pain he delivered with your pleasure.

"Fuck," you panted out wrapping your legs around his waist.

It may not have been what he intended but the strength of your thighs never lied and with it you sent him plunging deeply into your heat.

"Aah,” the two of you exclaimed in unison.

As the pleasure he felt intensified so did his bite around your nipple. Just when you were about to shout out from the pain Lewis pulled his hips back and slammed into you for the second time. Any pain you felt evaporated and morphed into indescribable pleasure. Clenching around him, you came as you bucked against him using his body to heighten your climax. His cock within nudged that hidden bundle of nerves you clenched tighter and tighter around him. The friction against your clit from your writhing brought you closer and closer to another galaxy.

"Uuuugh shit!"

A second orgasm washed over you and Lewis quickly pulled from your body and flung himself onto his back.

"For the love of....fuck!"

He lay there gripping the base of his cock as his head angled back. He looked as if he were being tortured but deliciously rather than unscrupulously. You smiled, then flung a leg over him before sinking down, down, down until every inch of him was snugly fit between your tight walls.

"Mmm," Lewis released watching where your bodies were joined.

"Are you trying to kill me, kitten?"

You rocked your hips making your body roll like a wave coming into the coast on the evening tides. Lewis' eyes roamed over your body quickly falling under its spell. You knew what he liked and often used that knowledge to make him do the thing he hated...cum quick.

Sensing your intention, Lewis groaned and gripped your hips stopping them. You smirked.

"I see my kitten wants to play."

You watched him lick his lips in the sinful way he always did and just like that you lost your train of thought. You sat there atop him just staring at him and again you were mesmerized by his beauty. All movement ceased and the only desire you had was to just watch him. Underneath you, Lewis nudged his hips up giving you a reminder you didn't need that you were completely filled and in the middle of something.

"This dick won't ride itself, kitten."

You snorted then groaned. This was getting ridiculous now.

"This is getting ridiculous now."

He smiled. "What? Can't keep your eyes off ya' man?"

"Shut up it's not funny."

Lewis sat up, clipped your chin between his pointer and thumb, and looked deeply into your eyes. With a luscious peck, he claimed your lips making you moan.

"It's cute. I love when you stare at me. I love when I look across a room and see you looking at me or searching the room for me. I do the same thing it's just you only notice it sometimes the other times you're doing your own thing and I am just awestruck because I got the baddest one. I am as obsessed with you as you are with me. Sometimes I think a little more so."

He brought his lips to your jaw then down to your neck. A moan escaped you as you got lost in his lips on your skin.

"Mmm, Lewis."

"Yes, kitten."

"I love you."

He brought his face back to yours and stared into your eyes.

"I love you too kitten. Promise you'll stay."

You crushed your lips to his then rocked against him making him moan against your lips. With every flick of your hips your body was rewarded with a new wave of pleasure and with each wave of pleasure you used it to make him say your name.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered as he dropped his head back bracing himself on his elbows.

In this position, you decided to give him the show he so deserved. You rocked and rolled your hips against him in circles then swirls then a chaotic pattern that kept him on his toes. Within minutes he was groaning and biting down on his lips as he watched every move you made.

When you began bouncing on him his eyes locked on where your bodies joined. You knew you were beyond waterfall wet but you didn't care, you didn't give one fuck that the room was filled with the sound of your wetness squelching from every movement you made. You didn't care that you moaned wildly and panted his name every time he met you halfway sending himself deeper than you thought possible. You didn't give one fuck that you knew tomorrow you'd be sore from the pounding you were giving yourself. All that you cared about was this moment with him and the depth of your feelings for one another finally coming together in the most primal and basic way. The levels of your love for one another were the purest of all.

"God you're gonna make me cum," Lewis declared.

You grabbed his face ensuring he kept his eyes on yours as you raced to meet him at the point of no return. When he flicked his hips upward that was it, the entire solar system exploded and all you saw was the stardust left behind.

"Lewis!”

"Y/N!"

Names spoken in unison led to colliding bodies. With you on top of him, Lewis wrapped his arms around you enveloping you in his warmth and scent branding you in this intimate way. While you loved making love with him you also loved this part just as much. His post-coital cuddles were world class.

"I am so far gone for you and you don't even realize it. You don’t realize how in awe I am of you. You know I like control and always have tight control over myself and emotions but I am always in over my head when it comes to controlling just what it is that you do to me. I am a complete simp for you Y/N. Complete. I can barely hide it and it’s become the joke of the paddock whenever you come around or you're brought up. You're not alone in this. You have me, all of me and I'll never take my eyes off of you."

You lifted your head and gazed into the deep wells of amber that were his eyes and melted. You wanted to say so much more to that but what else was there to say? Lewis' thumb flicked away a lone tear then he pulled you back to his chest so you could hear the source and force of his love for you. And that was what lulled you to sleep. The sound of his love racing for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[cupcakemolotov]

Ex's and Oh's: Part Two

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Minor Character Death; Magical Realism; We Make War Not Love; Post-Divorce; These Two Fools in Love; Klaus and Caroline Being Territorial; for each other; tyler is dead; kind of; Canon-Typical Violence; Violence; Murder; Werewolf!Klaus; Human!Caroline

Caroline's return to New Orleans is a little less triumphant than she'd like. There is a dead body in her trunk and a magical artifact in her passenger seat, and no matter how much she'd like too, the chances of avoiding her ex-husband are astronomically small. What, with the mate bond and all, but a girl's gotta hope.

“Caroline, why are we here?” Bonnie asked as she looked around at the familiar bar they’d once visited regularly before. Before.

Caroline looked up from her pile of beer battered fries. “I missed you?”

Bonnie gave her a look. “I missed you too, but I expected this chat to happen like, three days from now. You know, once you settled in and actually had the time to try that thing most of us do called communicating with your ex.”

“We should definitely go out again soon,” Caroline agreed with a nod. “This time with cocktails instead of beer, maybe during that dinner you could give me a list of who these mythical ex’s of yours are that you’d willing talk to. I only have the Curse on Sight bullet point list saved to my phone.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie said in fond exasperation. “You know what I mean. When you called and asked for your boxes, I was expecting to play delivery girl, not go out for an impromptu dinner. Please tell me you’re not doing this to avoid Klaus.”

“Hey,” Caroline protested as she gestured towards her food. “I’m hungry, and being hangry cannot improve this situation on any level.”

“Sure,” Bonnie drawled, “but there is no way you can convince me Klaus doesn’t have food in his house. I know how many calories werewolves consume in a day and it’s a lot.”

“He might have a house full of food, but there was nothing to eat.” Nothing she wanted. Not a single emergency bag of Doritos, no chocolate bars tucked away on a shelf, no decent cheese. The freezer hadn’t even contained a quart of emergency ice cream. She wanted to eat her feelings, and Bonnie was lucky she’d agreed to actual food instead of eating her weight in pie.

“Fine, I’ll give you that,” Bonnie allowed. “I’m not saying you owe him anything, but did you at least tell him you were going out?”

“Klaus,” Caroline said with false cheer. “Wasn’t there when I woke up, so I decided he didn’t get an opinion.”

Bonnie groaned and covered her eyes. “Haven’t you had enough rampaging werewolves today?”

“Eh,” Caroline said dismissively. “This morning was hardly a rampage, and you know it. Besides, torturing Tyler is absolutely a form of stress relief. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Probably. Bonnie was right, it would definitely piss him off that she’d left, and what she’d left him would not improve the situation. Dunking a fry into her pile of ketchup, she wrestled with the truth that she wasn’t in a mood yet to improve things.

I know a war when I see one.

Those words had haunted her as she’d fallen asleep, and had resonated in her chest when she’d woken. This felt like a war. Her own personal fight for something she wanted so badly she’d buried it under the ash and smoke of her temper, the scorched earth of her hurt. Wanted so badly and yet, no idea how to move past that anger.

Bonnie made a noise. “I knew we should have gone to Marcel’s.”

Her jaw clenched so hard, Caroline thought she could hear her teeth grinding. “No pack.”

“You can’t avoid them forever.” The words were said carefully, her best friend far too aware of that sore-point.

“Oh, I won’t,” Caroline said, flashing her teeth. “I really, really won’t.”

Thoughtfully, Bonnie relented enough to pick up her own fry. “What did Klaus tell you before he went off torture Tyler’s remains?”

Caroline shrugged. “He’s made changes, he’s the almighty ruler who rules with an iron fist, murder murder, the usual.”

I miss you.

She missed him.

Muttering something pithy, Bonnie pulled out a small bundle of herbs and dumped them on a convenient plate between them. A moment later, the familiar scent of burning sage brought a deluge of memories of ten years ago, and Caroline swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat.

How often had she and Bonnie sat in this booth with sage burning between them, tipsy from cocktails? How many burgers had been consumed in the name of girl’s night? How often had she wished she could do this again as she sat alone in a random diner, eating pie and rapidly texting the second most important person in her life?

“Caroline,” Bonnie huffed. “You know people are straining to hear every word you say. People have been staring for the last ten minutes, there is no way the locals aren’t already gossiping.” Pointedly she glared at someone over Caroline’s shoulder.

“Nothing I said so far should be a surprise, they’ve all lived with his ego as long as I have.” Caroline said, emphasizing her words with the jab of a french fry.

Bonnie made a face in silent agreement. “I am absolutely not on team Klaus, but this separation hasn’t been easy for either of you.”

Caroline looked away for a moment, because she didn’t know how to explain the tangle in her chest, the way it’d felt like a fist when she’d woken alone in a bed that smelled just like her best dreams. Tired, bruises stiff and aching, she wanted him there and she was mad he wasn’t, and she was mad at herself for being mad about it. Showering had required that she clench her hands into fists not to sniff test everything in the shower, wanting his scent in her lungs.

“I know.” Her lips flattened. “I don’t know how to do easy anymore, Bonnie.”

“When have you ever?”

Caroline reluctantly smiled. “Klaus and I… we didn’t really have a lot of time to talk before he had to leave.” She would have been mad about that, that he’d disappeared so soon after the first time they’d seen each other in years, but she was firmly anti-zombie, so she had decided to be gracious about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about the rest of it. What they had said. Their conversation had felt too personal, too raw to repeat out loud. “He wants me to stay.”

“Oh, he definitely wants more than that,” Bonnie muttered.

A03: Part 2

Please remember all my fanfic has been locked due to AI Bots scraping A03.

[szfiction]

@danielitsmebitch replied: Tsukasa always has to pick like the little bones in Senku’s fishes because he can’t do it correctly :p

[Read on AO3]

“For a scientist, you don’t always have the sharpest eyes, do you, Senku?” Tsukasa teases, the amusement on his face enough to have Senku rolling his eyes.

“I’m not some species of bird that can change the shape of its cornea for improved vision,” Senku sneers. “And sorry, Tsukasa, but I never claimed to be an expert in culinary science.”

Tsukasa hums, nodding in a placating way that likely comes across as patronizing. “Is that so? I didn’t know that you considered a job so menial to be a ‘science’.”

Senku grumbles something incomprehensible, resting a hand on his cheek and watching Tsukasa with an irritated expression. Tsukasa chuckles, and it’s surprisingly soft, still feeling foreign coming from his own mouth; at least in such a genuine manner.

This ‘job’ that Tsukasa has undertaken is simple enough: picking out the tiny fishbones of their catches of the day before they are set up to cook in their wood fire oven. With Francois revived as the go-to chef, it is not common that they have to cook alone, but with the growing size of the combined Kingdom of Science and Empire of Might, and the groups spread between their various camps, they are not always available. Thus, someone else has to undertake the responsibility—for Senku’s sake.

“Have your friends from Ishigami village never thought to teach you this?” Tsukasa asks, yanking out another bone between his fingertips. “Surely they’ve had plenty of experience, coming from a community located on an island.”

Senku shrugs. “Not like it’s a big deal. Swallowing fishbones is generally harmless. The gastric acid secreted by the stomach dissolves them within a week. And any steps I can skip in this type of prep work, I skip.”

“Right,” Tsukasa says. “And it’s still harmless when you choke on it?”

“…those incidents are outliers,” Senku mutters.

“Then I must have inconvenient timing, catching it twice now,” Tsukasa points out. It had been quite the scare the previous day, when Senku fell into a coughing fit in the middle of dinner, bending forward and face going a little red. Tsukasa had jumped in quickly, giving him hard pats on the back to assist, and soon, the bone was dislodged from Senku’s throat—much to his embarrassment, considering the little scene he’d caused.

“Twice?” Senku asks, brows furrowing.

“Mhm,” Tsukasa hums. “Twice.”

It takes a moment before comprehension lights up Senku’s expression, and a tiny smirk crosses his lips. “Ah. Right. Back when it was just you, me, and Taiju.”

“Taiju was worried you were dying on us,” Tsukasa recounts.

“Yeah, he was way too dramatic about it. And then he almost choked,” Senku muses. He huffs amusedly. “You had to make sure to pick the bones out for both of us after that. Looks like you’re right back where you started, huh?”

Such an idea settles pleasantly in Tsukasa’s mind. “It looks that way.”

“Kinda delicate work for the ‘Strongest Primate High Schooler’, though,” Senku teases. “And most people use tweezers, so it’s pretty impressive you’re doing it with only your oversized fingers.”

“I had lots of practice growing up.”

“For you and Mirai?”

Tsukasa nods. “Before she was hospitalized, I always cooked for the both of us, and I never wanted to risk her choking.”

“You’re a natural caretaker, huh?”

“I’m not too sure about that,” Tsukasa says. “It’s natural to share the skills and knowledge you have. Back when I was with my own group, I guided several of those recently revived through the steps to properly clean, cut, and fillet their fish before cooking as well.”

“You’re proving my point,” Senku says, amused.

Tsukasa shrugs. “I simply contribute how I can. Though, I still find it difficult to believe there aren’t others who would do this for you, Senku.”

“There might be. But you’re the one who offered, so it’d be illogical to ask someone else now.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m stuck with you?”

“If that’s how you wanna play it,” Senku answers, the smirk on his lips and his playful tone dwelling into territory that sets off alarms in Tsukasa’s mind.

“Careful, Senku,” Tsukasa warns. “If you give me permission, I might push my caretaking privileges further.”

Senku snickers. “Oh yeah, like how? Tucking me in at night and telling me a bedtime story?”

“If you’d prefer to be treated in such a childish way…”

Senku shoves his shoulder. “Shut up, no way in hell.”

Tsukasa laughs, fondness curling in his belly as he wipes his hands clean with a cloth, the fish in front of him now perfectly safe for consumption. He rests a hand on his cheek, turning to stare openly at Senku, who meets his gaze with a curious glint in his eyes.

“Truthfully, I don’t have anything in mind,” Tsukasa admits. “But I don’t mind playing the role of protector when it’s for your sake.”

Senku scoffs, shaking his head and fiddling with the papers in front of him. “Well, you already signed up for fighting duties when you joined the Kingdom of Science, big guy, so I don’t expect you’ll slack off.”

“Of course not,” Tsukasa agrees. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

And perhaps it’s simply the sun beating down on them, or a trick of the light, but Tsukasa swears there is a light dusting of pink adorning Senku’s cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it with the saccharine words and lovestruck looks,” Senku says. “Don’t you have cooking to do?”

Tsukasa chuckles softly. “I’m on it.”

Senku nods, satisfied, and proceeds to make an excuse for himself, declaring he has something or another to work on in the lab. Tsukasa watches him as he goes, unable to shake his smile all the while, and when Senku sneaks one final glance back at him, it’s hardly his fault that it grows even wider.

Yes, Tsukasa thinks, as he turns back to his own task, feeling oddly hopeful in a way he never could have anticipated even a year prior. Perhaps tedious work suits me after all.

[spampai]

Talk Your Way Out! (Cancelled…)

Well, not exactly…

Prologue Part 4: Queen’s Pursuivants.

Well yeah I knew this was coming-NUH UH THAT AIN’T MY PLAN-

Yeah so I realized that this project ain’t going well, considering the fact that:

1. The script is very messy. YEAH I placed so much good ideas for the upcoming chapters but it feels like it was smooshed in and not well explained. The timeline isn’t explained as well, seeing that people didn’t notice the timeskip between Part 1 and Part 2.

2. The characters are not well put out. I didn’t really explain why they were acting out of character and the readers can’t symphatize well with these characters as they don’t know what the purpose of the scenes are for. Characters are out of character for no reason as I didn’t delve into that until further chapters, which in this case will still make people confused. They can act like they are, but I gotta give an explanation for it, which I failed to do in the current prologue.

3. Many people find it confusing rather than enjoyable. I’ve received lots of feedback on how it was ordered or how the story flows. Basically responding to the feedback and thinking about it more; ya, it is confusing the more I reread it. So yeah, that’s one of the reasons.

4. The execution isn’t as great as I thought I did. People got confused between chapters ‘cause the thought bubble wasn’t really recognizable (my indescribable art is pouring towards the story plotline ☠️). Some scenes are also not portrayed well as I lack the ability to show their positions on where they’re at or what situation they’re in (still kinda bad with that atm, will change soon). Expression and dialogue-wise it’s fine, but I didn’t like how I was using similar formats for the panels or some expressions seemed repetitive. Same goes for the speech bubbles. I still like the dialogues tho.

5. Not much recognition. Ya okay this is probably the least important part of what I want from this project. Yeah okay I admit it that’s also a reason I stopped this project. From the first part to the two other parts, it stopped getting that much attention and I felt like there’s something that’s making people lose interest. I spam reblog as a result, which I regret doing. This is why I even thought about ‘cancelling’ the project.

6. Wrong timing. Always posting it on dead hours, or when the fandom ain’t active. Too impatient, pretty sure. I promote it way too much with spam reblogs, which I still regret.

I changed my reasoning from ‘likes and reblogs will make me famous’ to ‘I need this community to provide feedback so I can improve myself as I grow and eventually get accepted in the ‘big artists’ community from now on.

I’m learning from my mistakes, and basically something for me to experience so I wouldn’t repeat again. So at the moment, it is cancelled…

BUT.

I never said it was cancelled with a period ;)

Stay tuned for my next few posts as it’ll revolve around this situation :))

While waiting, have some scenes of the aforementioned Part 4. I specifically like this part ‘cause I think it potrays these two a lot better, I just didn’t explain why Toadster was acting the way he is, which is repulsive and mean. I’ll be explaining that in my next few posts (No, I don’t ship them btw, I rarely ship characters unless it’s canon in the lore).

As for the deleted posts this morning, I figured it wasn’t the best time to post it, so expect it when the fandom is active again. See ya!

[nijigasakilove]

What the hell are they feeding goblins in this universe man, someone get that thing checked for HGH lmao. Absolute unit. I got a little scared when Lynne froze up in front of him, but luckily this ain’t that type of show 😭

Noor may not be the brightest, but he’s the perfect teacher for Lynne and their chemistry on the battlefield is perfect. I hope they stay as a teacher/student dynamic and there’s no romantic shenanigans. So cool seeing them take down the Goblin emperor and some of Lynne’s magical abilities when she’s not being suppressed like in the episode 1 fight.

Battle was very well animated, some really cool storyboarding. Hopefully Noor at some point realises he’s at least above average if not OP lmao.

Too bad it all ended up being for nothing because they burnt the goblin emperor up and didn’t bring proof of quest completion 😭 these two have a combined one brain cell. And why didn’t Lynne bring up the fact that Noor’s rank was below hers even though he’s way stronger? The communication skills are really poor in this anime and I can see that dragging it down if it doesn’t improve soon. Between this and Shinmai ossan I can’t take two 30 year olds who are too stupid to realise their own strength lmao.

[mushiemellows]

Frobin hc- they both know how to hand sign and it’s their primary form of nonverbal communication

- Robin picks some up here and there when she’s a teen on the run but the use cases for it are few and far between so she’s a bit rusty. But there’s definitely times where she’ll sprout a few hands to get info out quickly and silently

- Franky learns from a few Family members. He has to reconstruct his hearing after the accident and he does a good job at it, but there’s still some days where the tech’s not working right and he’s gotta go a few days at a time without hearing.

-he also gives big Dad With Hearing Aids joke potential energy (turning them off when Luffy’s too loud, etc)

- Robin’s got a tendency to go a bit nonverbal sometimes and retreat, and that’s how Franky starts signing to her. He’s checking in from across the deck at a distance and her signs aren’t perfect in response but she gets the message across.

- she picks up a couple of books on the topic to polish up and soon they’re having full conversations that way

- they use it more in every day contexts than actually on days where either of them is feeling under the weather because it’s far more convenient

- Franky’s welding and doing like, construction stuff and his ear protection’s on goggles down but Robin’s able to ask him questions with just her hands

-(he doesn’t love when she signs with just her hands because he can’t get any info from her face/lips/rest of her body so it’s confusing sometimes. But he’s figured out what she generally means)

-(she doesn’t love his general sign style, he’s too relaxed and his hands are big enough that sometimes she can’t tell what he’s specifically trying to say. And he has a niche w7 regional accent to his signs)

- when the crew goes out dancing and partying, they’re usually the two on Round Everyone Up and Get Them Home Before They Make a Mess duty at the end of the night, so they sign to each other from across the club. The music’s too loud and- shit where’s zoro

- sometimes they sign at the dinner table and no one knows what they’re saying but Sanji has his suspicions 🤫

- they sign during battles and it’s helped immeasurably in their strategizing and planning. Franky’s overly concerned, checking in with her from a distance like every five minutes even though she’s usually handling herself well

- if Robin’s too far away she’ll sign to him in battle with Giantesco Manos but he like, never knows what she’s trying to say. And then he’s just in the General trying to sign back for clarification and neither of them are doing an effective job

-post ts she picks up a ton of actually practical signs from the Revs (intersectional gays that they are) and her signing improves very very quickly

-post ts he gets so much worse and so much better simultaneously, he’s all on his own so he gets rusty and his new hands take all the nuance out of whatever he’s trying to express, and it frustrates him

- but the little hands? He uses them to sign like a pro, they’re quick and snappy and so much easier to read (for Robin, at least. Everyone else thinks he’s lost it)

- like he’s on the deck and she’s leaning out the library window and he’s trying to sign up something to her and she’s just not getting it and he just sighs and puts his palms out facing her and the precision hands get the message out immediately.

[milksockets]

i recently had a very heartwarming exchange… about a typo.

to start at the beginning, at some point during my first couple of weeks at this job, i stopped by my supervisor’s office to mention that i’m very good at spotting typos if that’s something that would ever come in handy. i was referring both to the blizzard of daily emails as well as the information system program we use for documentation. he laughed and said he appreciated it, but also that a lot of people - including himself - are writing emails and whatnot all day and don’t necessarily have the time or ability to catch such errors. i remember thinking “yeah, that’s something i hadn’t really considered” and went on my merry way. note: his office door was open during the exchange because the discussion was not super private or confidential so why the fuck wouldn’t it be.

so the next day, i am summoned into his office, with the door closed this time. turns out some lurking busybody cunt with nothing better to do was hovering around and overheard the conversation, and decided to report it to both him and the supervisor above him that it was inappropriate and “who is this nurse who just started here talking about typos.”

i was flabbergasted at the time, but since then, it’s become apparent just how many things of that nature happen in offices (or mine at least; i’ve never worked in one before). when it comes specifically to pointing out a panoply of constant typos, i am not doing so in a manner that translates to “you’re a fucking idiot and i want to make you feel bad about it.” i guess i foolishly thought people might be open to hearing about ways they could improve their writing to avoid miscommunication.

there have been other instances of this ilk, namely that this woman moved into the office with a door next to me (the rest is an open plan type deal) and never has her door closed, whether she’s screaming into her phone, having an irl meeting, or blasting a podcast. like go figure, that’s sort of distracting and wearing headphones is not a solution because then i can’t hear if someone is trying to get my attention (or sneaking up behind me while i’m online shopping). it soon became very apparent that simply asking this lady to close her fucking door because other people do work here - but in nicer words - had the potential to cause a dramatic upheaval in office politics. i also had said that i would hope anyone in the office with a similar issue with me or my team would feel comfortable simply bringing it up for resolution.

it’s insane to me that these instances of direct communication about practical matters affecting other people are almost taboo and that i’ve been considered “inappropriate” on several occasions for relaying such remarks. also don’t say you value feedback if you actually don’t. let’s not play pretend here.

anyway, yesterday i passed a piece of street art that said “fight facism” and the artist tagged their IG handle so i just messaged them to say i thought they might like to know it’s misspelled. they were so fucking grateful, and said they’re glad someone pointed it out so nicely so they can fix it for the next batch. truly the antidote to the fragile, wretched office bullshit and evidence that i am doing god’s work.

so the moral of this story is that i need to find a way to get paid for finding typos. i mean, i spot them in just about every published book i read, too. and, friends, there is a solution: me.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Team Chaotix in Sonic Prime

My headcanons for what Vector the Crocodile, Espio the Chameleon and Charmy Bee are like in the Shatterspaces.

New Yoke City

Vector’s variant is called Missile (a missile is a vector, having direction and magnitude). He embodies Vector’s responsibility, practicality and seriousness. He was trying to make a difference as a teenage detective when the dystopian city appeared around him four years ago and it became clear that, with the Chaos Council’s control of the new justice system and law enforcement, the person he aspired to be would never make it. Of course he wants to fight, but the Council is brutal and their absolute power seems impossible to overthrow. He soon ended up with two children in his care, one only a toddler. If he got arrested, killed or roboticized, what would happen to them? If the three of them had the Council’s protection, on the other hand, as per the contract of an exclusive, specialized detective agency who would do whatever dirty work they were ordered to… he knows that those tyrants are the reason his kids have nobody else. He knows that the vast majority of people he leads the robotic police to don’t deserve any punishment, and none of them could deserve the cruel horrors they get. He knows that he isn’t a hero - that he may even be the exact opposite. And he hates it. But any money that keeps his family alive is money worth having, he’s regretfully decided. Big concepts like good and evil are none of his concern. He’s just trying to pay the rent. It’s too late to back out now, anyway. Now that the people are rebelling en masse and the Council is busy exploring the Shatterverse, he’s desperately waiting for things to stabilize and daring to hope against hope that some positive change occurs. And that the citizens don’t recognize the collaborateurs in their midst and turn on them.

Espio’s variant is called Trace. He embodies Espio’s stoicism and pragmatism. His ninja training was cut short - and his village razed and everyone he knew killed or taken prisoner - when the Chaos Council remade the world in their image. But he’s gained plenty of experience in stealth, deception, infiltration, espionage and combat working in the Chaos Detective Agency. Dishonour means nothing to a ninja. That’s what he tells himself, at least. On the outside, he’s reserved and aloof, a cold, ruthless foe. He will only show his family the slightest show of emotion. Internally, however, his repressed grief for his old family, community, home and life; guilt, shame and self-loathing due to his service to the Council; and years of accumulated trauma are brewing into a storm that he barely keeps contained under the surface. He’s afraid of his feelings burdening his teammates and distracting them from what’s most important: survival.

Charmy’s variant is called Sting. He embodies Charmy’s eagerness to be helpful and fighting spirit. He can’t remember anything except New Yoke and doesn’t understand much of how his society works, but he knows that his family’s work is very important to them being alive and wants to be a part of it. He does notice their stress and the general unpleasantness everywhere and can infer that circumstances could be improved. But their work being dangerous is all the more reason he should help! Teamwork makes the dream work, right? Danger just adds to the fun of stopping ‘bad guys’. He’s also terrified that if they leave him behind, they might not come back. So he kept breaking out and running away when Missile and Trace went on missions until they agreed to train him and let him join them. He revels in the thrill of action and finds people getting hurt amusing the way a six-year-old boy can, not emotionally connecting to anyone he’s told they need to catch and earnestly believing that their enemies must be in the wrong. He often imitates Missile when trying to be tough and intimidating.

Boscage Maze

Vector’s variant is called Reed. He embodies Vector’s optimism, lightheartedness and musical side, and tends to have his coarser manners too. He, the other two and Cream and Vanilla’s variants are in a different small tribe to the Scavengers and haven’t yet met them, so Thorn Rose didn’t banish them to the emergent layer; they are nomadic and moving toward the Scavengers’ territory. He’s cheerful and generous, always ready to raise the tribe’s morale. He can be immature and irresponsible at times, more focused on enjoying life and entertaining his companions than applying maximum effort to practical tasks. He’s highly resourceful when it comes to instruments and has invented drums and a reed flute. He loves to play them and sing. He’s also bold enough to flirt with Vanilla and the casual first stage of a romance is budding between them.

Espio’s variant is called Berry. He embodies Espio’s caution, wisdom and love of art and culture. Yes, that’s in this dimension. The tribe took him in after they crossed paths when he was eight, him having previously had to survive on his own for as long as he can remember. He’s mature beyond his years, highly knowledgeable about the forest’s flora and fauna, wary and prepared to defend his tribe from any threat using his carved flint blades and hand-to-hand skills. He used to find it difficult to relax, but has learned to unwind through playing a shamisen-esque string instrument Reed built for him and painting with plant pigments. While acutely aware of nature’s hazards, he can still appreciate its wonder and majesty and respects it.

Charmy’s variant is called Honey. He embodies Charmy’s innocent kindness, friendliness and trusting nature. He and Cream’s variant are best friends and adoptive siblings, since his parents entrusted their friend Vanilla with him when they left on an exploratory expedition in his infancy. They didn’t return. But Honey doesn’t mind. He has everything he needs right here. The one thing he can think of that would make his life better is a friend who can fly like he can.

No Place

Vector’s variant is called Bullion (because of precious metal and a male crocodile is a bull). He embodies Vector’s sharp intelligence, charisma, greed and courage. He left his home island in a modest but sturdy vessel, dubbed the Treasure Trove, to seek his fortune and established himself as a travelling merchant. Cunning, socially savvy and theatrical, he is willing to (if you insist on using such accusatory language) ‘scam’ customers and has an endless supply of get-rich-quick schemes. He and his crew live in a fiercely competitive, unpredictable environment full of pirates! Material wealth is essential! That being said, he isn’t all talk. He will brave high seas and stormy weather, chart uncharted waters and do business with anyone to obtain the best goods and things no other merchant is selling, and the genuine quality and rarity of a lot of his stock keep people endeared to him despite his rough edges and occasional bad deal. He takes pride in his competence as a salesman and seafarer and part of him is more fulfilled by honest work. Not that he’ll admit that. He’s very attached to his swashbuckling rogue self-image.

Espio’s variant is called Fathom (a measure of water depth and a verb for contemplative thought and understanding). He embodies Espio’s firm sense of morality and diligence. He met Bullion when the crocodile docked at his home island and, struck with wanderlust and needing a job to get by, Fathom offered to manage his finances with his advanced mathematical ability and do some manual labour. Bullion agreed, but it didn’t take Fathom long to figure out that he was both running a con and a broke mess. A weirdly likeable broke mess. In the aftermath of Fathom exposing the con, the customers angrily demanding refunds and the Treasure Trove being hastily undocked, they made a deal to support and protect each other, with Fathom promising to follow his boss’s lead on the strict condition that Bullion stayed on the straight and narrow. He’s a dutiful hard worker, patient and polite. He tries to remain calm and be civil to everyone no matter how wild things get. He grounds his crewmates, restraining their more energetic, eccentric and, most frustratingly for him, selfish and amoral behaviour. He knows they can be better. And when they are, it’s extremely rewarding. But they certainly test him - though he won’t deny that the motley crew all truly care about each other and would stick together through anything.

Charmy’s variant is called Dodger. He embodies Charmy’s mischievous, irreverent side. He was born to pirates and left at an orphanage on one of the larger islands, but could never follow rules or be satisfied with a simple, mundane life in one place. He wanted excitement, and usually made his own by causing trouble and playing tricks. He totally wasn’t lonely. One day he stowed away on a ship. His plan was to steal all the stuff he could carry on him and fly off. Bullion and Fathom, the sailors who caught him, took a liking to him and were hesitant to send him back to his boring, miserable old home once he explained his life before. They were nice and cool and made him feel wanted and like he belonged more than anyone else ever had, so he hung around. Bullion makes him do chores, but respects his pranking prowess and nerve. Fathom is a great listener and playmate, albeit sometimes a killjoy.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

No following; Planet of the apes fanfic Chap. 4

*Author's note*

I think this was my favorite chapter to write because this really shows the special bond that both Lin and Caesar share with one another. No matter what species they are, they grew up together and will always be brother and sister to each other. But it also hurt because this is where things go downhill from Caesar being taken away and the Rodman family gets torn apart so if that scene makes you cry, get your tissues ready and prepare yourselves.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@psychosupernatural

@queen-paladin

_____________________________________________________

Five years later.  Doesn’t seem that long ago does it but a lot can happen and for the Rodman troop, it did.  Grandpa’s health continued to improve thanks to the medicine he had been given, Will and Caroline were still going strong as a couple.  Hell there’s even been private talks between him and I about him potentially proposing to her before I leave for college.

Yep, in just a month I’ll graduate high school and I’ll soon be heading up to the University of California and join the Berkley Symphony Orchestra on a full-run scholarship.  Apparently during one of the shows I had played with the community center, there were some college scouts attending the performance and both UC as well as Julliard came up to me and offered me a full 4 year scholarship to join their orchestra programs.

After much debate since that performance last Christmas I finally decided that Berkley was the best choice.  I’d still be close to the family, I could visit every weekend, and even be there for the future wedding for my future aunt (fingers crossed Will at least proposes before I leave).  And of course I can’t leave out the biggest member of the troop.

Ceasar.  Well needless to say I can’t quite call him my little brother anymore.  He is now a few inches taller than me, hell he’s almost as tall as Uncle Will when he stands up right.  Not only that but according to Caroline, he has now reached full maturity so he is now considered a full-grown chimpanzee.  But even though he is now all grown up, there are times where he still retains his child-like behaviors.

Like whenever I try to leave for my summer tours for the community orchestra or go to school.  I still always have to sign to him our ‘no following’ command to him.  God I wonder how he’ll react once I leave in a few months.  Of course I’ve told him what’s going to happen as have Will and Caroline but you never know with him.

Once again we had taken him to the redwoods for him to get his daily exercise and fresh air.  And while Will and Caroline had their little picnic date, I had walked further along into the woods and began practicing my violin playing.

For the past year and a half for the community center, I have been their soloist violinist. And with my final performance happening a week before graduation, I needed to make sure I nailed this solo.  So every day I was always practicing and making sure to do the solo as best I could.  I had burned a copy of the song onto a disc and downloaded it to my playlist so that I could practice it on the go whenever I didn’t have my music sheets on hand.

So with my earbuds in, I had the song playing and I would do my solo whenever it came on.  And being that this was a Celtic piece we were performing, the Redwoods provided me some good atmosphere and inspiration to truly feel the music as I played it. 

At the end of the song, I faintly heard the sounds of applause from behind me and I turned to see uncle Will, Caroline and Caesar standing behind me.  Uncle Will gestured for me to take my earbuds out so I did and I could hear him say.

“While it’s not bad for you to practice, there is such a thing as overdoing it Lin.”

“Oh look who’s talking Mr. Overachiever scientist man.”

“That’s Dr. Overachiever scientist man to you missy.” Uncle Will teased.

“In all seriousness Lin, you’ve practiced enough. At this rate you could do more damage to your fingertips.” Caroline advised me.

“Yeah I know, I know. It’s just—I’ve been performing with the community center since I was 12. I want my last performance with them to be memorable. So that people can say, ‘Oh yeah Lin Rodman was their best violinist.’ ‘yeah no one could ever top her’.”

“We know Lin. But you’ve proven that more times than anyone in the orchestra. You’ve gained a scholarship from not only UC but Julliard themselves. And you chose to turn the later down even though they’re like the top ranking performing arts school in America.” Uncle Will said.  “You got this kid.”

Caesar then came up to me and gently took my bow from my hand and gave me a firm nod.  His eyes showing nothing but support and praise as he signed.

‘You’re ready. Take time to heal now.’ I smiled as Caesar then placed his free arm over my shoulder and brought my forehead to his.

“Thank you little brother.” After we separated our familial connection, Will decided that it was time for us to head back home.  As we walked back towards the bridge, we soon came across a family walking their dog and the second they saw us, fear and concern spread across their faces as the mother said astounded.

“Is that a chimpanzee?”

“Hi.” Uncle Will merely nodded as we passed by them.  Their German shepherd, however, didn’t take kindly to Caesar.  He growled and lunged at the end of his leash barking aggressively.  The woman only said one command but the dog was too high-strung now to even listen to the most basic command.

That’s when I began to notice Caesar fingering his own collar and the leash that Uncle Will was starting to yank on to pull Caesar away from the family.  The dog continued to bark aggressively until finally Caesar turned and let out a fearsome roar which scared the German shepherd and the family continued onward across the bridge.

“Caesar? Caesar.” Uncle Will called out before yanking on the leash to snap Caesar out of his rage.

“Will stop it! He’s not like that dog!” I snapped at him.  I walked up to Caesar and held out my hand. “C’mon little brother, let’s go. Forget about that mutt.” Caesar hesitantly took my hand and we continued walking back up the trail until we reached the car.

I got in my usual spot behind Caroline and went through my playlist to find something else to listen to.  That’s when I heard the door beside me open and Caesar suddenly sat down beside me instead of in the trunk space of the station wagon where he usually sat.  I took out an earbud as uncle Will came by Caesar’s window and softly knocked on it.

“You okay pal?” Caesar fingered around his collar uncomfortably before signing.

‘Is Caesar pet?’

“Are you a pet? No. you’re not a pet.” Uncle Will said.  Then what the hell was that all about back there? Grandpa and I have told him he didn’t need a leash whenever we come here and yet he continues to leash him like one.

‘Who Caesar father?’ Caesar signed again.

“I’m your father.” Caesar pondered his next sign before he finally asked.

‘What is Caesar?’ uncle Will voiced Caesar’s question and Caesar let out a small huff confirming his question.  Will let out a sigh before saying.

“Okay.” He took off his backpack and set it the car before immediately coming to the front seat.  “Lin, take your earbuds out I don’t wanna ask you again. You’re gonna need to hear this too.”

“Yeah, sure okay.” I took my earbuds out and put them back in their case as uncle Will turned the car on and immediately pulled out and drove across the bridge.  However instead of heading home, we drove further into the city until we came a windowed building and at the top the word GEN-SYS was written across in grey and orange colors with the DNA symbol inbetween the words.

“Caesar, this is where I work. This is where you were born. Your mother was here with other chimpanzees. But she’s not here anymore. So that’s why I took you to live with me.” Caesar took in the first half of the information about his birth before sadly asking.

‘Mother…..dead?’

“Yeah. Your mother’s dead.” Caesar’s saddened expression broke my heart.  But the next thing uncle Will said made me ponder something.  “The thing is, she was given medicine. Like the medicine I give to Charles. She passed it on to you, that’s why you’re so smart.”

“Five years ago, when grandpa was able to play the piano again. You’ve been testing that drug on chimps? This whole time?” I asked.  “Why not go with rats or mice like any normal scientist does?”

“Because chimpanzees and humans share only a two percent difference in DNA. We had to make sure there were no failures before trying on a human volunteer.” Uncle Will answered me robotically.  I leaned against my seat flabbergasted as well as anger.  And Caesar was no better as he felt like his whole world was coming apart.

“Let’s take him home.” Caroline said firmly.  Uncle Will put the car in drive and we drove away from the lab and finally headed home.

The second we came in the house, Caesar raced up the stairs and Will said to me.

“Lin, why don’t you—”

“I can’t even look at you right now!” I stormed up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door breathing heavily.  So this whole time, Will was using grandpa as a test subject? What if something had gone wrong? What if grandpa got worse? How could he be this stupid and reckless?!

I threw myself onto my bed, grabbed my pillow and screamed into it before collapsing backward.

As night began to settle, I thought back on everything with a clearer head.  Before the drug, grandpa was practically gone and it would’ve been a matter of time before he passed away.  Sure Will thought what he was doing was out of love, but he should’ve at least told me what all of this was really about, especially Caesar.

After all both of them have the same drug flowing through their veins.  If something were to happen to grandpa, could the same be said for Caesar? Could the drug stop working eventually with Caesar and he’d revert back to a primal animal? He should’ve been truthful with us from the beginning.

I looked up toward my ceiling and sighed heavily before standing up and reached up for the attic staircase and pulled the string down and brought the stairs fully down.  Slowly I walked up the stairs and saw Caesar standing in front of his mirror looking at himself in self-deprecation.

“Caesar?” he turned toward me jumping slightly.  “Sorry, should I leave?” Caesar gestured for me to come in and so I did.  With slow, cautious steps I came over to him and sat down on his bed and looked at him as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror.  Fingering over his birthmark before huffing harshly, his facial expression filled with self-hate and confusion.  “What’s going through your mind?” I asked him softly.

‘Caesar and Lin not brother and sister.’

“What do you mean? Of course we are.”

‘Caesar not human Lin! And Lin not ape.’ He said turning towards me, his eyes burning with tears of anger and sadness.  My heart sunk and I said with a nod.

“I know, Caesar. We may not exactly be the same species but you’re still my little brother.”

‘How Lin? How is Caesar your brother?’

“You wanna know how I know?” I stood up and walked over to him.  I had him look in the mirror and continued, “Because Caesar has two eyes, like mine. Although I’d prefer if we matched, I always did favor green eyes.” I teased as I leaned up against him. “And a nose….somewhere—ahh there it is.” I then booped his nose to which he let out a small huff.  “Two ears.” I said fiddling with his ears as he let out a small shriek as he tried to get me to stop and we both laughed softly. “And let’s see what else is there…..hmm?” I playfully pondered before Caesar gestured to his hands with a small grunt.  “That’s right, two hands.”

We pressed our hands together and for a moment I thought I had gotten him out of his self-deprecation state but he then took his hands back and looked down solemnly.  I let out a somber sigh before lifting his chin up.

“Close your eyes.” He closed them. “Now forget what you see,” I took his hand and placed it over his heart. “What do you feel?” I stepped back and he opened up his eyes as he signed.

‘My heart.’

“Now come here.” I extended my arms out and he came close to me.  I placed his ear over my left breast so that he could hear my heartbeat.

‘Lin’s heart.’ He signed.

“See, there’s exactly the same.” I stroked the side of his face, “You’re mine Caesar. Mine to me. No matter what species we are, or what others may say, you will always be my little brother.” Caesar let out a sad huff before reaching behind my head and pressed our foreheads together.

As the weeks passed, the only one Caesar really began to rely on was me and grandpa.  He never looked at Will the same after that day he took us to his work place at Gen-Sys.  We all sat around the table eating breakfast, however Caesar didn’t really have an appetite for his.

“Caesar eat your food.” Uncle Will told him but Caesar brushed his tray aside.  As I took a bite of my tater tots I said.

“I was thinking instead of going out to a restaurant for my graduation dinner, why not have a barbeque in the backyard?”

“You sure Lin? Next week is your week, you sure you don’t wanna go out? Don’t you want to spend it with your friends one last time?”

“I’ve got the entire summer to hang with them. Besides they all got families coming in and parties of their own to go to. Most will be busy for at least a month.” That’s when we both saw Caesar gently reach out and take grandpa’s hand.

We then watched as he slowly took the fork that grandpa was holding and flip it the correct way before releasing his hand.  Will and I looked at each other worriedly and Will asked him.

“Dad you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Grandpa shrugged it off before eating his breakfast like nothing happened.  I knew it, I knew this was too good to be true.  Even though I was too young at the time to know the signs but now knowing the actual symptoms of Alzheimer’s, I knew that grandpa was starting to regress.

The medicine that Will snuck from his lab and had been giving grandpa for five years now, it’s failing.  Soon he’ll go right back to where he was, no scratch that he’ll get worse.  After five years of the disease being put on hold, it’ll flood my grandpa’s mind like a tsunami.

And my fears were soon realized.  Day by day grandpa’s health got worse and worse by the minute.  There were times when he’d sit for hours on end, still and completely silent, and other times he’d be wandering off outside without Will or I knowing.

So now instead of counting down the days till graduation, I’m having to spend fretting over whether or not my grandpa is going to wander off while Will’s been staying at the office working overtime trying to find another way to help grandpa.

For now though, grandpa was sitting in his chair still as a statue yet again.  I held his cold, pale hand between mine softly stroking it as I spoke to him.

“Graduation is in three days gramps. Can you believe that? Seems like only yesterday you were—dropping me off at kindergarten and now I’m about to go to college. To be honest I’m—actually afraid. I mean….this is the point where childhood ends, and the doorway to adulthood happens now, right? Were you ever this scared to walk across the stage for your diploma? Was Uncle Will? Or even……mom?”

His face remained stoic and his eyes were glossed over with the thousand yard stare.

“Grandpa?” I softly called out to him.  “You—want something to drink? You hadn’t had anything since last night. I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he didn’t respond.  I took a sharp breath in and kissed his cheek before walking towards the kitchen.

My nerves were rattling, my stomach was swirling and my throat was dry and heavy.  I felt myself going through the motions of getting a glass but I felt—distant from my body.  That was until I heard the smashing of the glass and I jumped up shrieking as I felt my whole body shaking.

Why this? Why did this have to happen to us? We’re a normal family who did nothing wrong to anyone? So why were we being punished like this? I slowly slid down to the floor on my butt feeling my chest constrict as I curled up into a fetal position feeling the tears burning behind my eyelids.

Suddenly I heard a loud crash coming from outside.  I quickly sat up and ran to find the front door wide open and I raced outside to see Hunsiker pulling my grandpa by his robe out of his car.  My anxiety attack soon turned to red, hot rage as I cried out.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!” I raced down the stairs and pushed him as hard as I could growling like an animal as I yelled. “DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM!!”

“ME HURT HIM!? HE’S THE ONE STEALING MY CAR!!”

“THAT’S BULLSHIT!!! HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HE WAS DOING!”

“I’M A PILOT I’VE GOT TO GET TO THE AIRPORT! HOW AM I GONNA GET THERE NOW, HUH!?!”

“FOR ONE I WOULDN’T LEAVE MY ENGINE RUNNING WITH THE DOOR OPEN DUMBASS!!”

“YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME RESPECT YOU LITTLE BRAT! NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY!”

“YOU EVEN TAKE ANOTHER STEP TOWARDS MY GRANDPA, AND I END YOU!!!” I shoved the bastard as hard as I could.

“Maria please,” grandpa said calling me by my mother’s name once again.

“Grandpa, I’ll handle this. Just go inside.” I told him assuringly and as calmly as I could.

“LIKE HELL HE IS! ANSWER THE GODDAMN QUESTION WHAT WERE YOU DOING?”

“I—I have a car just like……” grandpa began to answer but Hunsiker interrupted.

“Oh well it obviously wasn’t. You know what, I’m done, I’m done the police can handle this.” He took out his phone and began calling the police.

“Yeah sure go ahead call them! Then I can tell them how you stupidly left your car with the keys inside for 20 minutes and threatened an old man with VIOLENCE!!” I said loud enough for the operator to hear.

“NO YOU STAY RIGHT THERE!!” Hunsiker ignored me as he blocked my grandpa from moving.  I got between them again and shoved Hunsiker and snarled.

“I’M SO SICK OF YOUR ARROGANT BULLSHIT! You’ve always believed to be the High and Mighty guard dog of this neighborhood well here’s the deal asshole! You’re nothing but a Karen! Yeah an over-controlling, arrogant, egotistical, self-righteous mother—” SMACK!!

Next thing I knew, I had felt a sudden whiplash and my head was throbbing.  I raised my hand up as I felt blood coming out of my nose.  My right cheek was also throbbing and I looked up in shock as Hunsiker fully turned his attention back to my grandpa like he didn’t just assault me and continued to yell in my grandpa’s face.  All the while aggressively jabbing his finger into my grandpa’s chest.

It all happened so fast after that, a flash of brown fur shot out from the house, Hunsiker ended up on the street, grandpa had been knocked over and I heard Caesar’s angered shrieks echoing the streets as he proceeded to beat the shit out of our neighbor.

Hunsiker hit Caesar with a trashcan lid to get him off and proceeded to race back towards his house, but Caesar was hot on his tail.  Trailing up through the Hunsiker’s front garden, he used their porch column to swing around and double kick Hunsiker in the chest, sending him rolling off his front porch and back to the side walk.  As Caesar continued the chase after Hunsiker screeching angrily, I crawled over to grandpa and said.

“Grandpa, are you alright?”

“Lin? What’s—happening? How did we get outside?” he soon heard Caesar’s angered screeching and looked out in horror.  “Why is Caesar attacking him?”

“You got into Hunsiker’s car and he was threatening you.” That’s when grandpa took in my bloody nose and the bruise that must’ve been forming on my face.

“Oh Lin your—your face.”

“Nevermind me.” That’s when other concerning neighbors began coming around us and asked us if we were okay.  “We’re fine please just leave us alone.” I tried to tell them.

“Honey, your nose is bleeding and your cheek is bruising up badly, here.” Said Mrs. Goosby, a kindly widow from down the street said as she reached into her purse and took out a handkerchief.  I placed the handkerchief over my nose when Caesar’s shrieks caught my attention again.

Everyone watched in horror as Caesar tackled Hunsiker to the ground, forcefully grab the hand that he was not only pointing at grandpa with but had also hit me, and he bite off his index finger.

“CAESAR STOP!!” both grandpa and I cried out.  I covered my mouth in horror as Hunsiker’s daughter soon came out calling out for her daddy.  Now seeing the neighbor who had threatened us be nothing more than a sniveling mess cradling his bloody hand, Caesar came down from his rage and stood there frozen in shock.

“Caesar.” Grandpa called out.  Caesar bounded over to us as the neighbors around us all backed away in fear.  Caesar immediately curled into grandpa’s side, his head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around him huffing anxiously.  All while he looked up at me fearfully.  “It’s okay, hey it’s okay you didn’t mean it. It’s okay.”

I came over to Caesar and gently wiped Hunsiker’s blood from his face using the handkerchief Mrs. Goosby gave me.  I placed my hand on top of his head as we looked to the neighbors who could barely look at Caesar without fear in their eyes.  The sounds of sirens began to grow louder and louder as they came around into our neighborhood.

Hunsiker was immediately taken to the hospital with the finger they managed to find in hopes they could reattach it.  Grandpa and I were also being checked out for minor injuries but I couldn’t focus on them because Caesar was being loaded up by animal control.

I ran passed the paramedic that was trying to check for any concussions.  Even as he tried to pull me back, I lashed out with a punch and raced over to the animal control guy and pleaded.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“He’s too dangerous for you to keep.”

“NO! YOU’RE NOT TAKING HIM! We’re the only family he’s ever known! You take him away, he won’t stand a chance!”

“You’re getting too hysterical miss.” The animal control guy said to me in a nonchalant tone.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING! HE NEEDS US!” I felt myself being held back by another paramedic.

“He’s a wild animal kid! A wild animal that’ll soon be put down if the court deems it so! Be thankful it wasn’t you that he attacked or your grandfather. Or do you just not care about your family’s safety?” he said nothing else as he got into his car and drove away with Caesar.

“CAESAR! CAESAR! WE’LL GET YOU OUT CAESAR! I PROMISE! WE’LL GET YOU BACK LITTLE BROTHER!!” I screamed out as another paramedic joined the other one to hold me back as I tried to race after the animal control truck but it was all in vain.

After finally getting checked out with no concussion, I immediately called uncle Will and Caroline and was in hysterics as I tried to explain to them what happened.

‘Dr. Rodman speaking.’

“Uncle Will!” I sobbed.

‘Lin? What is it what happened?’

“Caesar freaked out cause grandpa got out and accidentally got into Hunsiker’s car. He was yelling and screaming at grandpa and I tried to stop him. He—he…..they took him uncle Will! Animal control took Caesar away!”

‘Okay, okay calm down. Lin breathe. Answer me this, are you two okay?’

“Grandpa is, I got punched by Hunsiker but I’m fine. No concussion.”

‘That son of a—alright if you say you’re fine I’ll believe that. For now take Charles inside. Lock the doors don’t answer it for anyone okay? I’ll take care of this from here.’

“Okay. Okay.”

‘Alright, and Lin. Don’t blame yourself, okay? This wasn’t your fault.’ I sniffled and choked out a sob.  ‘Take your grandpa inside and try to relax, okay? Let me take care of things from here, alright?’

“Okay.” I whimpered.  “Please do—don’t let them kill him.”

‘I’m not gonna let that happen kid.’ He then hung up and I took grandpa back inside the house and locked the door.

It had been two and a half hours since I had called uncle Will and neither he nor Caroline had come home yet or at least called to tell me what’s going on with Caesar.  God I hope they showed mercy and didn’t put him down, he was only defending his family? Should he really be put down for something like that?

That’s what I always found wrong with the world.  People must always suffer even if it’s for someone else.  Like if that had been me to fully attack Hunsiker, I’d still be arrested and put in a cage all because someone was harming my grandpa.  When I heard the clicking of the locks being undone, I immediately rushed to the door and soon Will and Caroline came in.

I rushed and hugged uncle Will first who immediately embraced me back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” I wept.

“Don’t. This wasn’t your fault.” He told me as I felt him kiss my temple.  He held my face between his hands but was careful of the bruise on my cheek.  “Does it still hurt?”

“Only if it’s touched. I put peroxide on the small cut about 30min ago.” He nodded.  “Is…..is Caesar…..”

“He’s at the San Bruno Primate shelter. He’s gonna have to stay there until I can get a court appeal date. Which they say will be 90 days but I can’t accept that.”

“90 days?” I asked exasperatedly.

“I promise you Lin, I’m going to get him back. We’re not going to wait three months till we hear something.” He kissed my forehead and asked me, “Where’s Charles?”

“I put him up in his room.” He nodded and raced up the stairs.  I turned to Caroline and hugged her.  She rocked me back and forth rubbing my back.

“Was he scared?” I asked her.

“He was. Kept wanting to go home and even signed your name.” I sniffled as I buried myself into her chest and held her tighter.

“This is bullshit.”

“I know. But we’ve done all we can do for today Lin. C’mon, let me make you some tea and we can sit down for a while.” She guided me towards the kitchen and prepared us some warm chamomile tea.

[flipping-the-coin]

[Patient Report: OP-7845-91653]

[Authorization Requirement: Alpha]

[Document Status: Sensitive - 94% preserved]

[Listed Authorized Individuals: Primal Steward Ratchet]

[Overseeing Medical Personnel: - Primary Physician: CMO Ratchet - Secondary Assistant: First Aid]

[Session: #004]

═════════════════

Orion was a decent enough patient this session. No serious deviations from what I’ve recorded. Through medication he has begun to return to awareness without any serious side effects. He’s still very unstable, but he is improving bit by bit. He hit me with his field again when I got too close, but that is to be expected. He's still very sensitive to anything and everything. 

Megatron loomed over me as usual. He tried incredibly hard to get a rise out of me, but unfortunately for him, I was wise enough to take a low dose of sedatives before arriving. They kept me calm at the cost of awareness. I worked in a daze, but it wasn’t as if I needed to be on my best behavior when Orion was too unsettled to even let me closer than a foot away without Megatron holding him. Orion may need to be issued ration tickets for the time being. He’s too thin and Megatron is exhausted caring for him. To my knowledge, Orion should have a sizable inheritance. As soon as he is aware enough to come and claim it, I will give it to him and he won’t need to live the way he does.

It is the least I can do. He’s entitled to his inheritance, and with Alpha Trion currently MIA, there is no point leaving a bunch of shanix and assets to rot in a vault. The banks are nearly open again. I might be able to pull some strings and give Orion access prior to his registry as a citizen, but I can’t get Megatron access when their conjunxing is unconfirmed. Slagging policies. I’m sure Megatron blames me for a lot of the issues we are dealing with globally. Primus, I wish I could show him just how chaotic things are. No matter how hard I try, files fly under my radar and sneak past the correct authorities and worm their way into legalization. I’m just one mech. I can’t do everything.

Sometimes I detest the fact that Optimus left this role for me in his will. But I know he wasn’t in his right mind at the time. It wasn’t like he trusted many of us anyway. 

Orion muttered strange things. Lots of pleas to be released and all sorts of nonsense about Bumblebee being ‘their’ sparkling. I don’t give a frag about a lot of it. The arrogance is startling. Still, I got some information from him through a few pointed questions. Megatron almost punched me for it, but I asked about Optimus again. I got a scrambled answer and a field attack in response.

I don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle, but I am beginning to put things together. I know that Orion and Optimus shared a frame throughout the war due to the Matrix. I know that the Matrix seemed to have… made Optimus. I have no clue what process allowed that to happen, but that’s what I’ve gathered. Orion was locked within the Matrix throughout Optimus’s functioning, which explains why he is the way he is. They appeared to have been able to communicate, but based on what Orion has muttered, there was a severe miscommunication issue or Orion is delusional.

The way he talks about Optimus… you would think my Prime was murdering sparklings in their cradles. War did lead him to have to make some tough calls, but everyone suffered during the conflict. Orion isn’t special in that regard. The Primus forsaken slagger really seems willing to die on the hill of Optimus being the worst thing since the Quints. 

Frag him.

I gave Orion a new dose of sedatives and left before I could get hit again. Orion Pax makes me angry. Far more than I care to admit. He was my friend. My closest companion before the war. But… I didn’t choose for it to be that way. Maybe my old fears are re-emerging. Having Optimus around made it impossible for me to think about my past. The circumstances of mine and Orion’s association were irrelevant. I didn’t want to be there and I would have been punished if Orion deviated, but I like to think we took comfort in one another.

Then he just had to fall for that mongrel Gladiator. I really shouldn’t have helped by giving him the train ticket to Kaon, but he was just so very broken. He had something he finally loved and I didn’t have the spark to deny him. I was trapped in the constraints of my deal, but he could enjoy himself a bit if I covered for him. 

So many vorns later… that decision still haunts me. I should have stopped him. I should have refused to let him go to Kaon. My biggest fear at the time was that Alph- my sponsor, was going to kill me. Who could have imagined that the end of our entire civilization would have come about instead. I was worried about vanishing mysteriously when I should have really been paying more attention. I don’t like to think about all the times I considered going to Alpha Trion. It brings back bad memories. The war made it all seem so small.

Slag, I honestly believed I was trying to court my best friend. 

I still haven’t processed that fact. How am I supposed to process that? I firmly believed that Optimus was just Orion given a new form. I thought I knew him. But now that I am Orion’s doctor and now that Optimus is gone-

I don’t think I knew either of them.

It doesn't matter anymore. I’m old and memories are difficult for me at times. I don’t want to think about any of it. I have more important things to do. I can’t allow myself to lose control. I can’t be angry with Orion. I need to stay composed. Once I put the pieces of this messed up story together, then I can decide how best to act. I don’t have enough information.

Patience. That was Optimus’s best trait. I just need to emulate him.

So long as I am patient, I will get through this. I can get the frag out of being Orion’s doctor as soon as the clinics are operational. I can get away from all of this. These slagging memories that I don’t want to recall.

═════════════════

[Assistant First Aid Report:

Everything was delivered without issue! I managed to come inside and clean up a little bit for Mr. Pax, which was nice. I got everything all picked up and I even managed to give Mr. Megatron a care package without seeming rude. At least, I hope it wasn’t rude. 

However I think there is something that should come to your attention, Doctor. I think your pill dosage was a little high this time. I know mistakes happen so please don’t take offense! I was just looking at the pill case and noted a few too many in there to be healthy. I don’t think it would have killed Mr. Pax thankfully. But it would have been very painful for him. Luckily for all of us, I removed the excess pills before anything could go wrong.

I just thought you would like to know. You have some serious jitters sometimes, so if you would like, I can count out pills when you need it, Doctor.]

[dindjarin-mandalorian]

Comfort Food (Young Peter Quill & Yondu Udonta)

A/N: This is one of several completed Yondu fics I wrote a few years ago and found sitting forgotten in a folder on my laptop a couple of weeks back, and I'm slowly making my way through them to get them all posted eventually. I'm not going to do much editing (just a glance-through to find glaring typos), and I feel like my writing has improved since then, but hopefully they'll be enjoyed. :)

Summary: A young Peter Quill has recently been abducted by the Ravagers and is struggling to come to terms with the meal options.

Warnings: I don't think there are any, but if I've missed one, just let me know.

Yondu didn’t see much of Peter at first after he brought him to the Eclector. As soon as Kraglin let go of him, Peter took off running and no one saw him for hours. Tullk eventually heard him crying in one of the storage rooms and immediately reported it to Yondu, who ordered food to be set outside the room occasionally, though it was never touched.

After a few days, Yondu was making one of his many trips past the storage room when he realized the boy was standing just inside the door instead of hiding behind the boxes in the back of the room.

Yondu stopped walking and stared at the Terran. Peter quailed a bit at the formidable sight and started to back into the room again, but stopped when Yondu spoke, though he flinched at the tone.

“Why ain’t’cha eatin’, boy?”

Peter took another step back and shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Can’t ya talk? I ain’t believin’ I got a Terran that can’t talk. Guess it’s a good thing I ain’t keepin’ ya fer yer talkin’.”

Peter’s brows constricted. “I can so talk!”

Yondu raised a brow. “What else can ya do?”

“I can do lots of things!”

“That right? Well, how ‘bout answerin’ my question.”

Peter looked down at the tray and made a face.

“My food ain’t good enough fer ya?”

“What is it?”

“It’s food. That’s all ya need ta know.”

“It doesn’t look like any food I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, ya ain’t seen much.”

Something in the bowl chose that moment to splash around and Peter yelled as he backed up a little more. “It… it moved!”

“Course it did. It’s better when it’s fresh.”

“I’m not eating that.”

“Then I guess yer gonna starve.”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears.

Yondu wasn’t used to tears and didn’t know how to deal with them, so he decided to handle it the same way he handled his crew. “Yer gonna eat it or yer gonna starve. Ain’t no other options.”

“Can’t we go to the grocery store?”

“Tha grocery store?”

“Yeah, that’s what… what my mom did when we needed food...” He trailed off quietly and looked at the floor as his hand moved to his Walkman on his hip. Yondu didn’t think Peter even realized he’d done it.

Yondu was decidedly uncomfortable at this turn of the conversation. “Ain’t no grocery stores ‘round here.”

A tear slid down Peter’s cheek. “Where… where are we?”

“We’re on our way to Morag.”

“Where’s that?”

“Near Xandar.”

“Where’s that?”

“Listen, boy, I ain’t got time fer no geography lessons.”

Peter looked at the floor again, and Yondu sighed. “We’ll go ta Xandar. They got some shops that sell Terran stuff. Maybe we can find some Terran food fer ya.”

“What’s… what’s Terran food?”

“Food from Terra… where yer from.”

“I’m… I’m from Earth.”

“Earth, Terra, whatever.”

Yondu’s wrist communicator beeped. “What is it, Oblo?”

“About to land on Morag, Cap’n.”

“Change of plans. We’re goin’ to Xandar.”

“But Cap’n, I thought we’s goin-”

“I said change of plans! Get us to Xandar.” He disconnected the call and turned back to Peter. “Come on.”

Peter hesitated, then followed Yondu down the hall, giving the bowl with the still-splashing creature in it a wide berth.

___ 

As they walked to the store that sold Terran food, Yondu realized he had no idea what kind of food to feed a Terran.

He cleared his throat, then asked, “So whad’dy’all Terrans eat?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, his thoughts swirling. He realized he had a unique opportunity to never have to eat his least favorite foods ever again.

“Well, boy?”

“Oh, well, candy is the biggest food group. We eat it for most meals.”

“Candy, huh? What’s that?”

“It’s… it’s got lots of vitamins in it. Helps us kids grow.”

“Huh. What else?”

“Pizza is also good for us. And ice cream and chips.”

“Well, surely this shop’ll have some of that stuff.”

As they entered the shop, Peter made a beeline to the Terran candy. “This is the best stuff for us. Chocolate. Oh! And these, too.”

Yondu narrowed his eyes and Peter was afraid Yondu had figured it out, but Yondu only said, “I ain’t payin’ an arm an’ a leg fer all this, so ya better jus’ pick out what ya need. I ain’t stockin’ up fer a year.”

Peter released a breath. “Okay.”

Yondu turned to look behind him. “What’re these?”

“Oh, those are… um… vegetables. They’re… they’re only for special occasions. Kids only get them if they do everything their parents ask them to do. We… we don’t get them often.”

He tried to look longingly at the broccoli to sell his story, but found it hard to do.

“That right?”

Peter nodded.

“Well, we ain’t buyin’ no veg’tables today. Ya gotta earn ‘em!”

Peter tried to look disappointed. “Okay.”

“Here, get some more a these candy bars. An’ ya better eat ‘em all or I’m gonna… gonna eat’cha.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He had no problem with eating the candy, but he was taken aback by Yondu’s threat. Surely he wouldn’t eat him… Little did he know that it would soon become Yondu’s favorite threat, along with “Ya better do what I say or there ain’t gonna be no vegetables fer ya!”

Peter filled his basket with candy, frozen pizzas (which would have to do until he figured out how to have pizza delivered to the ship), and several tubs of ice cream. Yondu picked up a few more candy bars, not wanting the Terran to starve.

“Oh! I need to get something to drink. Like, um, soft drinks and chocolate milk. Water is… bad for us.”

Yondu quit walking and stared at Peter. “Water’s bad fer y’all? That don’t sound right.”

“Umm… maybe not bad. But… uh… we shouldn’t have it too often. We’ll… um… get… water sickness.”

“Water sickness?”

“Yeah, it’s bad.”

“Well, jus’ don’t drink too much of it. I ain’t gonna be worryin’ ‘bout takin’ ya ta no doctor.”

“I won’t.”

“’Cause if I catch ya drinkin’ too much, I’ll eat’cha!”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he nodded.

___

Back on the ship, Peter was trying to distract himself from his current situation by sorting his new stash of junk food. The fact that he’d lost his mother and been taken from his grandparents and his planet hadn’t yet sunk in completely. He turned up the volume on his Walkman and opened a candy bar, his mother’s favorite, as he laid down on his jacket to listen to the music.