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mickandmusings · 2 months

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hell or high water

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: lazy saturday nights with tyler were few and far between, especially during the spring months, when he and the wranglers found themselves hopping from one midwest city to the next. today the skies were uncharacteristically clear, and tyler wanted nothing more than to spend his night curled up next to his girl.

for the always lovely @fraaaaankiiiiieee , who always supports my delusional ideas <3

warnings: just fluff really, domestic life w/ tyler; situational angst, but no broken hearts in this one <3; some suggestively smutty moments but nothing explicit; inaccurate descriptions of tornadoes (i'm a mississippi girly, we don't even take shelter, we stand on our porches during tornadoes don't blame me); I wrote this at 2am, so forgive any weird inconsistencies or mistakes, thanks

The morning had been uncharacteristically quiet, almost eerily calm. Tyler had woken early, per usual, and rose to his feet, earning him a grumble from the girl who slept curled into his chest for warmth. He'd apologize with a cup of coffee later, knowing she wouldn't rise from her death-like sleep for a few more hours at the least.

He'd stumbled down the creaky stairs in only his boxers, starting the coffee machine immediately, and, as it dripped slowly, he used the downtime to stare out the window above his kitchen sink. The weather was perfect-the rising sun shining over the horizon made his view picturesque-almost like a painting in a frame. He enjoyed the view, but he knew the girl upstairs sleeping in his bed would enjoy it more: clear sky days like today meant she had him all to herself. He shook his head to a wasted day, but smiled despite himself. Tyler grabs his phone from where he'd tossed it on the kitchen counter, texting out a quick message to the Wranglers group chat:

'Nothing but clear skies on the radar, so enjoy your day off. Maybe use it to take a decent shower? Maybe wash some clothes? I'm talking to you Boone, you stink.'

The message stirred a frenzy of comments and replies from each of the members of his eclectic group, and he read through them as he sipped his coffee, leaning against the counter. He'd just sent a reaction to a particularly witty remark from Lilly when he felt something grab him from around his waist. He'd been so entranced with his stream of messages that he hadn't heard the pitter-patter of his girlfriend's footsteps down the hardwood stairs, or the yawn that had announced her presence.

"Mornin', beautiful."

Y/N simply gives him an unimpressed, tired grumble in response. She'd clad in one of his old sweatshirts, so well-worn that the neck of it is fraying. Her hair is knotted and messy from her sleep, and her eyes are barely opened. She finds Tyler's greeting ridiculous, but even in her half-dazed state, he finds the sight of her infinitely more breathtaking than the stunning vision mother nature had given him this morning.

Y/N shuffles in closer to him, burying her ice-cold nose into the crook of his neck, and he lets out a sound of discomfort when it hits his bare skin.

"Damn, you're freezin'!"

"Yeah, well, my personal heater likes to get up at the asscrack of dawn, and it's the only time I get to see him these days, so deal with it."

Tyler laughs, bringing his arms around her waist to keep her close.

"Lucky for you, sleeping beauty, the skies are clear for the foreseeable future, so today I'm all yours."

He feels her grin against his skin, and she nuzzles in a little closer. Her groggy morning voice speaks, muffled by her face being pressed against him:

"Then, Ty, my lovely, handsome, smart, sweet man-of-my-dreams...why the hell are we up at six in the goddamn morning?"

Her faux flattery oozes with sarcasm. He shakes his head silently, running a hand through her hair.

"I'll have you know I'm wide awake."

"Well, I'm not, and I never get to sleep in with you anymore. I want to go back to bed, and I want you there to keep me warm, please?"

She'd lifted her face to rest her chin on his chest, her big puppy-like eyes pleading up at him.

"Plus," she starts, bringing her gaze back down to his chest and placing a chaste kiss just below his collarbone. "We haven't had morning sex in like...weeks. Who knows what kind of mood I'll wake up in?"

She gives him a sly smile, and he cuts a knowing eyebrow lift her way. He knows all of her tactics, not that she needs them anyway, he'd never deny her.

"Fine, I'm sold." He lifts her into his arms, her legs around his torso as he carries her up the stairs. She gives him a sweet chuckle, hiding her red-flushed face into the side of his neck, his hands resting across her ass, unabashedly inappropriate.

He tosses himself onto the bed, her frame atop his.

"Promise to wake me up around, 9 or so? I don't want to sleep too much, or else I'll miss out on my whole day with you."

His chest warms as his hand runs through her hair, the other placed precariously on her opposite hip, tracing circles with his thumb.

"I will, cross my heart. Now, sleep, you're gonna need it," his voice deepens almost on command. "Once you're awake, you're all mine, darlin'."

His words drip with sensual flirtation as he places a kiss on the crown of her head. Y/N gives him a grin, her eyes drooping closed.

Hours later, after much needed sleep and a rather intense bout of love making, the couple stood exactly where they had just hours before. Tyler stood against the counter, watching as the new pot of coffee brewed. Y/N stood between his arms, her still slighty-sleepy eyes peering out at the sunny day from the kitchen window. Tyler's hand runs through her hair, his other perched on the small of her back, almost dangerously low, but she pays it no mind, too consumed at the pure joy of having him all to herself for the entirety of the day. It seemed silly, but she was rarely afforded this luxury during the spring and summer months.

He pulls away to pour coffee into two mugs on the counter, dousing one in sugar and creamer, the other plain black, the way he liked his. Y/N pays little attention when she reaches for a mug, and he goes to stop her, but the liquid reaches her taste buds before he can reach out for the cup in her hands. Her face wrinkles in disgust as she reaches for the other mug and swallows a sip.

"Jesus, that's vile, Ty. You're drinking straight lighter fluid."

"At least I'm drinkin' coffee, sweetheart. Yours is ten percent coffee, ninety percent other sugary shit."

She rolls her eyes and downs another sip, exhaling at the caffeine now starting to course through her system. She leans her head on his bicep, not wanting to be far from his touch. The pair relishes in the quiet morning, only the sounds of the morning birds and the occasional passerby car filling the air. The moment is so delicately peaceful that Y/N feels her eyes drift back into a hazy state, only awoken by Tyler's voice cutting off her brush with relaxation.

"There's no food in his house, wanted to make eggs this mornin', there isn't any. We don't have any bread, milk's gone bad. Think we finished off the last of the coffee, and you're almost out of that fancy creamer you like."

Y/N's mind instantly thinks of the nearly empty toothpaste tube she'd squeezed out the night before, and the lack of her favorite snacks in his cabinet.

"You up for a grocery run this early?"

He shrugs, giving an unbothered look.

"Get it over with early, don't have to worry about it for the rest of the day."

She nods, leaning back against him.

"Smart," she pauses, letting out a sigh. "Guess I should probably get dressed if that's the case."

Tyler looks down at the girl in his arms, clad in one of his shirts and nothing else. Desire swarms in his gut, and he found the desperate words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Or we could just order them online, pick them up later? We could order dinner from that place on the boulevard you love, get it all done in one trip? I'll go in, you stay in the truck, no getting dressed necessary."

She drops her now empty mug into the sink, wrapping her arms around his neck, brushing her hand across the hair on the nape of his neck. She leans in, pulling him into a rather heated kiss, one that leaves them both panting. She can taste the traces of his own black coffee, and she smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"You get hotter and hotter every time you open your mouth this morning. You've almost got me convinced just to go back to bed with you and ignore all of my other responsibilities..."

He gives her a smirk, shrugging and lifting a brow as his calloused hand sneaks under her his shirt, caressing the bare skin dangerously close to her chest.

"What'll it take to convince you completely?"

She cocks her head to the side, as if she was thinking.

"Hm, remember that thing you did on our third date?"

She doesn't even get a response before his lips are back on hers, his hand tapping her thigh, silently signaling her to wrap her legs around his waist. His half-finished coffee was forgotten, only the sounds of their shared pleasure and Y/N's occasional giggle bouncing off the walls.

As night falls, that same relative silence falls over the house. The lights are all out, save for the lamp in the corner of the living room and one of Y/N's scented candles lit on top of the fireplace. A commercial for an insurance company runs quietly in the background, an ad break from the rerun of 'The Notebook' he'd put on for Y/N just an hour ago. Takeout boxes and two empty beer bottles litter the coffee table in front of them, and the sound of light rain falling fills the unclaimed space in the room.

They're both still fresh from the shower they'd shared. His hair is still damp, smelling of Y/N's shampoo, and her skin smelling of his cypress and cedarwood scented body wash. Y/N had stilled within a half hour of placing her head in his lap, his comforting touch in her hair making it physically impossible for her to fight sleep. His hands tugged lightly at her half-dry hair, but his eyes are focused on the window facing his back yard.

Tyler can't help it, he's naturally drawn to the changes in wind speed and precipitation. He notes nothing serious-average wind speeds, steady, even-falling rain, and no hail. He relaxes a bit, watching as Noah and Allie argue on screen. Soon, his own jade eyes felt heavy. He blinks them back open, trying to savor every moment he has with the girl who's managed to make him fall more and more in love with her, even when she does nothing at all.

He manages to stay awake for the rest of the movie, but as the credits roll across the screen, he finds sleep starting to win against him. Just as his hands stop the movement in her hair, a loud blare comes from the once quiet television, startling him awake, his leg jerking in reaction. In turn, it startles the sleeping girl in his lap, her head shifting as she rubs at her bleary eyes.

The three short tones followed by one long tone has him all but springing into action, sitting up straight on the couch, holding the shoulders of the girl still not nearly awake to understand what was happening.

"The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for the following counties..."

Tyler had tuned it out, he knew the rest. His eyes darted to the window again, and now, through the rain he could see exactly what he'd feared-a strike of lightning before a rumbling roar of thunder. He watches as the wind blows the flag in his yard, trees blowing furiously in the wind. It was mild now, but Tyler had seen the calm before the storm too many times to take chances. He quickly grabs both of their phones from the table and shoves them into his pockets. Y/N had already plopped back down onto the couch pillow, her eyes closed. He sighs and contemplates waking her up, but as the roaring of wind like a freight train fills his ears, he realizes he doesn't have the time. Instead, he scoops her into his arms-blanket and all-and simply bolts them out the door.

The second he hits the steps of the porch, he's never been more glad he'd moved so quickly. The wind is whipping around him fiercely, and the sound of hail knocking shingles off his roof sends his feet moving faster. The entrance to his storm shelter is in clear view, and he speaks down to the girl in his arms, speaking loudly over the noise of the inclement weather.

"I'm gonna take us to the storm shelter, okay? You're gonna get in first and I'm gonna be right behind you, baby, gotta make sure that door shuts, alright?"

Y/N nods in understanding, despite how her eyes are still laced with sleep. He stands her in front of him on solid ground, slinging open the heavy door with a grunt. He lightly shovels her down the steps, seeing that she's completely in before stepping in himself. It takes his full body force to get it shut, slamming the latch down tightly. He takes a moment to sit on the steps, hearing the pelting of hail and the loud winds before he springs into action again. He moves to switch on the small lights in the tiny room, now getting a good look at the girl sitting just across from him.

She looks incredibly small, curled into her favorite blanket from their couch, his own hoodie she'd claimed as her own peeking through. He worries that she's scared, and his heart pangs as he crosses over to her. Wordlessly, he pulls her into his lap, fishing his own phone out in hopes of firstly, pulling up live updates on the storm, and secondly, contacting the rest of the Wranglers, making sure his chosen family was safe. He gets the broadcast up first, a slew of messages from his friends ensuring him of their safety. He sends them back one confirming both his and Y/N's safety before setting it back down against the wall and the floor.

"Hey, you're okay, I promise," he reassured her, his arm slung around her and resting on her waist. She gives him a small smile, brushing a tuft of hair behind his ear. Chasing had been busy lately, and he hadn't stopped for a trim lately. She wasn't complaining, she liked running her hands through the longer locks.

"I know. I'm not scared, Ty," she gives a small laugh, the look behind her eyes reassuring him she was fine. He pulls her closer to him, placing a kiss against the crown of her head.

"Brave girl."

She shakes her head in disagreement.

"I'm not brave, I'd be scared shitless if you weren't here. But you are, so I know I'm safe. You'd never let anything happen to me, mother nature be damned."

He gives a loud laugh that bounces off the walls of their shelter, making Y/N break out into her own smile. She turns her attention to the map on Tyler's phone.

"So what're they saying?"

He pulls his phone closer, a map of colors and city names she recognizes in front of her. His finger points to their town name.

"There's us," He pauses, moving his finger to a patch of dark pink. Y/N looks at the key on the side, noting that the color indicated an 'extreme' threat. "And that's the path of the tornado happenin' above us right now, most likely."

"So," she pauses, looking up at him. "In your professional Tornado Wrangler opinion, how fucked are we?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Survival wise? I know we'll be fine, we're perfectly safe. Damage wise? Well, my roof needed replacin' anyways."

"What about the others? Have you heard from them? I imagine Boone is losing it."

Tyler brushes hair out of her face and behind her ear.

"They're all in a safe spot, just heard from them all. Don't worry that pretty head of yours about a thing, let me take care of it."

Another roll of loud winds roar overhead, and both Y/N and Tyler dart their eyes to the ceiling. She tucks her head into Tyler's neck, and his arms pull her tighter into his embrace.

"Okay," she starts, her voice small. "So maybe I'm a little scared...I don't see how you're always out there in all this, it's terrifying, Ty."

He wants to reply back, tell her about the rush of a storm, or the feeling of being right there next to it in the moment, but the storms he chased weren’t like the one happening literal feet above their heads. He remains quiet, his hand moving back to her hair, stroking the strands in a gentle motion, providing comfort for her. She’s quiet for a moment, listening to the howling winds and the shaking of the thunderous movements.

“T-Tyler?” There’s a tremble in her voice, and he notes how she’s starting to shake in his hold. “Can you tell me a story? Talk, just keep me distracted, please. Having a full blown panic attack in this box doesn’t sound fun.”

He continues the comforting touch to her head, pulling her in closer to the side of his neck, his opposite arm around her waist.

“Hey, no, no, none of that, you’re gonna be fine. We’re okay, I got you. A story? Um…”

He thinks for a second, until the perfect idea comes to his mind.

“Alright, got one, gonna tell you your favorite story. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

His voice takes on a humorous tone, recounting the plot of ‘A New Hope’ from memory. The rumble of his timbre in her ear-paired with him intentionally making up his own scenarios when he forgot plot points-worked effectively in blocking out the deafening noises above. After a handful of minutes, the noise stilled, and Y/N sat with shaking hands as Tyler popped back open the door. He looked around for a moment, making sure the sky was clear before helping her back on solid ground.

Shingles had fallen from his roof, and branches from trees had been strewn across his yard. Just across the clearing, in an empty field, a massive tree had fallen. Tyler grasped her hand tightly as they walked back inside, their power out, but the home unharmed. Once he determined they were completely safe, he wordlessly led them back to his bedroom, tucking Y/N safely under his chin, close to his heart. He didn’t sleep, his brain wide awake in fear that another storm would come and he’d be unprepared. Instead he watched her sleep, watching as her breaths moved in and out, content in knowing she felt safe in his arms.

Tomorrow, they’d venture into town with Boone and Lilly in the back of his truck, Dexter and Dani behind them, all looking out at the disaster that riddled their small community. They’d spend their day passing out food and water, looking for missing pets in rubble, and helping scour collapsed houses for salvageable items for families to hold onto. He’d look on as Y/N helped comfort elderly citizens of their community and laughed with children who had lost their everything, including their innocence. She’d be silent on the way home, and collapse into his arms once they made it through the front door. Her eyes would fill with tears of guilt that she couldn’t do more for every person she'd seen and talked to. He’d hold her just like he was now, hands in her hair and sweet nothings in her ears.

But tonight, he holds her in his arms tightly, thanking mother nature for sparing not only them, but his home too. After his thanks, he issues her a warning: come hell or high water, he’d stop at nothing to protect the girl in his arms-mother nature be damned.

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@fanboysfangirl

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens twisters #twisters #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #request #tyler owens x you #tyler twisters

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heeliopheelia · 1 year

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.9k

a/n: guys it's 2am but i finally finished editing this... whatever that is. it's been a while since i posted this type of a fic so i hope you like it just as much as the previous ones!! 🤍

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

"I'll be right back, baby. Just give me ten minutes, okay?"

These were the words your boyfriend said to you twenty minutes ago as you patiently sat on the wooden bench in the empty locker room. His basketball team just won their first game of the season and now you wait for him to finally finish showering, so that the two of you can go back to his place and catch up on the much needed sleep. Much needed as he's the one who has deprived the both of you of it last night when he made you watch him practice nearly until morning.

So it's no surprise that as another minute goes by, you find your eyes growing heavy. Leaning your head back on the cool locker, you start dozing off when familiar footsteps finally approach your tired figure.

"Aww, sorry I kept you waiting, baby. I'm ready to go now, though," he says softly as his hand goes to swipe some hair away from your face. He grins as you blink slowly at him before slinging his bag over his shoulder and kneeling down in front of you. You don't have enough strength to question his behavior when he turns around and wiggles his fingers at you and looks over his shoulder. "C'mon, hop on. I'll carry you."

You manage to somehow climb onto his back and when your hands wrap around his neck securely, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts the both of you off the ground.

"Up you go," he grunts quietly, adjusting you in his arms before making his way out of the locker room. "Let's finally get my sleepy baby home, shall we?"

PARK JAY

Throwing his bag on the ground, Jay tosses the keys to the cupboard and feels his shoulders relaxing at the thought of seeing you after such a long day. Even though it's late at night, he knows you'll be stubbornly waiting for him like you always do, so instead of heading to the bedroom, he directs his steps to the living room.

And he was right – there you are, slumped over the arm rest of the couch, mouth slightly ajar because of the palm you're holding up your face with.

Jay snorts quietly, mind running back to all the times you've denied the possibility of ever falling asleep while waiting for your beloved boyfriend to come back home. He takes a mental note to remember that and tease you in the morning.

With a sigh, he crouches down in front of the couch and reaches his hand out to brush your cheek gently. The feeling of his cool fingers against your skin almost instantly wakes you up and you jerk underneath his touch, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim lighting. When your eyes meet Jay's, you straighten your back and send him a guilty smile as if you've been caught committing a crime.

"Oh, you're back," you mutter tiredly, letting his fingers run over your eyes to wipe the sleep away from them. "I was so not sleeping, you're just tweaking."

Jay chuckles before standing up and pressing his lips to your forehead. You wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes back again, feeling content now that he's finally back. Sighing, you softly kiss the crook of his neck before nuzzling your face into it.

Jay's hand is caressing your hair gently. "Let's get you to bed now, hm?"

SIM JAKE

"Well, aren't you just cute?" Jake huffs under his nose as the first thing he comes across of is you laying on the couch, face buried in one of the green cushions you bought on your last Ikea trip. He giggles quietly, heart feeling full as he looks at you with such lovesick eyes, you'd definitely be left blushing if you ever caught him like this.

He decides on not waking you up, realizing how tired you must've been if you actually fell asleep while waiting on him. So instead, he slips underneath the blanket right next to you. He turns to his side so that you're laying face to face and he smiles at the way your lips are slightly pouted. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, draping an arm around your waist as you subconsciously curl up to his body, seeking for his warmth even in your sleep.

Jake softly presses his lips right above your eyebrow when your eyelids slowly flutter open. You look at him with your foggy eyes before wrapping your arm around his neck and wordlessly pulling him even closer to yourself. You bury your face in his chest instead of the cushion now and slowly start dozing off again when his hand sneaks underneath your sweater and caresses your side gently.

"I'm glad you're home," you mumble into his skin, nudging his neck with your nose before leaving a butterfly kiss on the same exact spot. "Been waiting for you."

Jake feels his stomach tickle funny at your sleepy affection and he buries his smile in your hair. "Yeah, I know. You can go to sleep now. I'm not going anywhere."

PARK SUNGHOON

"How many times do I have to tell you not to wait for me this late, you idiot," Sunghoon scolds you as he adjusts your half-asleep body in his arms and carries on up the stairs.

You mumble an incoherent answer with mouth muffled by the warm skin of his neck. You hold him tighly, arms slung around his shoulders as you hang onto him like a baby monkey. Sunghoon has to bite his lip to prevent himself from snickering right then and there.

"What was that?" He asks, leaning his face a little closer to hear you better.

"You're so warm. Makes me even more sleepy."

Sunghoon can't help the chuckle that leaves his mouth anymore and he opens the door to your bedroom with his foot. He carries you straight to bed and places you on the soft mattress, only to quickly change into a pair of sweatpants and slip underneath the covers right next to you.

Your body moves almost automatically as you shift closely to your boyfriend and cling onto him once your arms make contact with his skin. You shuffle and twist in your place, somehow unable to find a comfortable position, because no matter how close you get to him – it's just simply not close enough tonight.

So you climb on top of his body and use him as a mattress instead, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"I wanna get inside your skin. Lemme," you mumble tiredly and feel his chest vibrate with laughter.

His hand makes its way to your hair. "Some of the things you say when you're sleepy are quite concerning, sweetheart."

KIM SUNOO

Sunoo is greeted by the view of you and Riki chilling on the couch in their dorm. More precisely – Riki playing some videogame on playstation and you sprawled out by his side, the white controller laying on the carpet below you as you sleep soundly.

"What time did she get here?" Sunoo asks as he drops his training bag somwehere on the floor and approaches the two of you. He crouches down in front of you and picks up the long forgotten controller.

"Two hours ago maybe," Riki responds, eyes glued to the TV screen. "She wanted to wait for you but she fell asleep like half an hour ago. Made me lose my damn game."

The older one only sends him a glare paired with a scoff before turning his attention back to you.

"Y/N, wake up."

You peak one of your eyes open as another tap lands on your shoulder. When the first thing your met with is your boyfriend's pretty face, a smile spreads on your slightly chapped lips and you lift yourself up in your seat.

"You're back," you croak out, rubbing your eyes quickly before nuzzling your face in his chest. "Sorry for dropping by without giving you a warning. Jus' thought you'd be home."

Sunoo presses his lips to the crown of your head. "Don't apologize for things like that. You know I always like having you around."

You nod slowly, reaching your hands up until they're circling his neck. Turning your head to the side, you place a small kiss to the side of his jawline. "Can we go cuddle now?"

"How can I say no when you're this cute, huh?"

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon tries, he really tries to be quiet. It's really not his fault that his clumsy nature made him bump his hip into the cupboard and cause the keys to topple down to the ground with a clank that probably could wake up a hundred year old half-deaf granny.

You open your eyes and lift yourself from the table you've been laying on top of, startled, head spinning from the sudden movement.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, angel. I didn't mean to wake you up," Jungwon apologizes as he rushes over to you from the other side of the kitchen.

You watch as he crosses the space quickly and plops down on the chair next to you, then wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his lap instead.

"No, it's okay," you say quietly as you clear your throat, lifting your head up to smile at him softly. "Was waiting for you anyways. I made you dinner. Just kinda fell asleep after cooking."

Jungwon giggles at the dissatisfied scrunch of your nose. He leans down to press a small kiss to the tip of it.

"Thanks for waiting for me, baby. And for cooking for me. That's really sweet of you, you didn't have to," he mutters, lowering his tone to match yours as he rubs your noses together. "Well, now that I'm finally here, how about I try some of it, huh?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea I suppose." You smile at him and bring your hand up to stroke the short hair at the back of his head. "Can we stay here a little longer, though? I missed you today. Wanna cuddle you."

He chuckles warmly at your words before leaning down and laying a kiss on your forehead. "Of course. We've got all the time in the world, angel."

NISHIMURA RIKI

"Baby?"

Silence.

"Baby."

Still nothing. The only thing Riki can hear is your slowed down breathing, slightly muffled by the fuzzy blanket you've pulled right above your nose.

"Y/N."

Now that finally wakes you up and you blink your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of your living room. You lift your gaze to look at Riki standing in front of the couch you're laying on, a small smile playing on his lips.

"There you are," he huffs, slightly amused. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

A grunt leaves your throat as you bury yourself even further into the back rest of the couch. You open your arms and lift the blanket a little as an invitation.

"C'mere. 'm too comfy to leave," you mumble groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

With one more pleading look of your foggy eyes, Riki sighs and shakes his head at your stubborness.

"Tsch, fine." He clicks his tongue before standing up and laying down on the tight space right next to you. You don't waste a single second and wrap all of your limbs around his tall body, snuggling up to him with a content sigh.

"Perfect," you whisper as you press your face into his warmth and fall back asleep the moment that his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

permanent taglist @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #park jay x reader #jay x reader #kim sunoo x reader #sunoo x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #lee heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen niki x reader #niki x reader

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trippinsorrows · 2 months

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looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

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

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

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

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations.

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude.

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish.

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye.

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.”

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so.

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat.

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react.

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him.

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning.

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him.

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much.

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father.

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her.

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such.

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons.

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer.

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those.

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this.

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed.

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived.

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself.

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds.

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously.

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi.

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?”

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training.

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms.

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of.

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good.

It’s not good at all.

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive.

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps.

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me.

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway.

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama.

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot.

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced.

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness.

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley.

Clearly, that’s not the case.

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions.

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers.

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak.

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest.

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth.

It’s a spectacle, to say the least.

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift. “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish.

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there’s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges.

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered.

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face.

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way.

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another.

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close.

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind.

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does.

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him.

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime.

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight.

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He��s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own.

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does.

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats.

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her.

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years.

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.”

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her.

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies.

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice.

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.”

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her.

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her.

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her.

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.”

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack.

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother.

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.

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

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evangelical04 · 6 months

Text

A Single Daffodil || 2

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling

previous / masterlist / next

You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short.

The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.

But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life.

Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat.

Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it.

She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.

It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.

“Team leader?”

You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik.

“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.

“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.

Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it.

No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper.

Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.

But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown.

Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.

From Yang Yujin

Hello Miss Y/N,

Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.

Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.

Please let me know if you need any other information,

Yang Yujin

You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.

You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!

“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email.

Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.

A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”

Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today.

“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”

“Alright, have fun!”

The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got.

You could feel a headache coming on.

Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent.

You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.

“What’s got you so melancholy?’

You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans.

“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”

“God damn.”

You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”

Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”

Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”

You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad.

A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice.

“Y/N?”

You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”

“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”

You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking.

“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”

Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”

Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?

You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same?

Maybe he could.

You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that.

As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him.

Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?

Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you.

Not that he was obligated to.

You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.

You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.

Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?

You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.

Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college.

The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice.

The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job.

So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.

Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.

Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.

“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes.

“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”

The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”

You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”

“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”

Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”

He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”

You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”

You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”

You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”

“What do you mean?”

You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air.

“Well, that’s a lot.”

You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”

“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”

Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi.

You would deal with those come Friday.

It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from.

With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse.

After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch.

6:06

Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed.

6:29

Well, whatever.

You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held.

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment

and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.

You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him.

Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.

With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you.

You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one.

Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”

For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you.

“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”

“I want to set some ground rules.”

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”

“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”

You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.

“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?

“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him.

His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed.

“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”

Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”

Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”

You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto.

You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation.

The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving.

Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.

Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”

He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I do have a rule actually.”

Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.

“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”

He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”

With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance.

“Wow, what an asshole.”

You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju.

“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”

Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”

Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”

“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”

You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.

“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”

Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”

“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”

Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days.

Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately.

Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you.

Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either.

Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing.

Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that.

You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be.

You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?

Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi.

As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM.

A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest.

You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not.

“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”

Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately.

The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived.

You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway.

As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means.

Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?

You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body.

No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!

Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you.

Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.

From: [email protected]

RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.

Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.

Thank you,

Team Leader Lim

You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular.

Goldenboy97.

Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts.

Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away.

You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.

The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message.

The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you.

“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”

Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.

“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Hobi!”

You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”

Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him.

“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”

“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab.

After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked.

You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”

Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment.

After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator.

Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.

“Surprise!”

Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”

You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up.

As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”

You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”

Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt.

“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair.

“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions.

“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that.

Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.

“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up.

Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”

Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side.

You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.

Probably.

Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married.

His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee.

He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really.

Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi.

Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused.

Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again.

Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.

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strwbrrychnnie · 5 months

Text

< about time >

pairing:: bang chan x older male reader genre:: smut // fluff - - minors dni!! word count:: 2.9k summary:: you’re an overworked college student and your best friend, bang chan, is a famous kpop idol. he’s constantly busy and you haven’t seen him in months. he surprises you with a visit late one night, and scenes in the movie you watch sparks a flame you didn’t know existed between you two. warnings:: smut !!! unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), slight d / s dynamic, dirty talk, praise, slight pet play if you squint, swearing, petnames, age dynamic & honorifics, crying notes:: my first work on here :fingers-crossed: not entirely proofread either srry ;; i’ve actually never seen ‘about time,’ but i know vaguely what happens in it- bare with me if i get anything wrong ,,</3 i don’t know how to end stories i’m so sorry

it’s been a long day. you’ve been working on your homework all day- reading textbooks and taking notes, replying to insufferable classmates on discussion posts, studying for an upcoming test. all you want is someone to hold you, and nobody comes to mind.

that is, except for your best friend, chan.

he’s always there when you need him, but he's beyond busy. he’ll pick up every call within a ring or two, but never has time to talk more than five minutes. but he never forgets to text you good night, sleep well, to dream happy thoughts.

you groan, leaning back in your chair. would he come over if you asked? does he even have the time? is he even still in korea? you spiral and spiral until you eventually pick up your phone, deciding to find out for yourself.

he picks up before the first ring, a coarse voice filling your ear. “y/n? you okay? it’s 2am, sweetheart.” your heart aches at the petname.

“i- sorry. i’ve been up working on homework, i didn't mean to wake you up.” you whisper into the phone. chan laughs gently.

“i’ve been up. don't worry about me, it's just good to hear your voice.” a silence falls over you, registering his compliment. “you there?”

“yeah- yeah, sorry. just…” you bite your tongue. “i miss you, chan.” he sighs on the other end of the phone.

“i miss you too. look, how about… i wrap things up here, and come over?” your eyes widen.

“wait, really? can you even do that?” chan laughs again.

“of course i can, y/n. i don't have a schedule tomorrow, so i can do whatever i want tonight. would you like that?” chan teases.

“yes, please. i need you.” you bite your lip at your neediness. chan chuckles, and you hear a rustling on his end of the phone.

“you need me, baby boy? did i hear that right?” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“that’s hyung to you, sir.” you correct.

“you're barely older than me! don't make me call you that.” chan whines.

“yeah, yeah. hurry up over there and come over, okay?” chan huffs playfully.

“okay. give me like thirty minutes, i'll head out right as i finish.” you smile, pursing your lips together at the thought of seeing him again.

“see you soon, channie.”

“see you soon, y/n-ie.”

---

it's almost exactly thirty minutes before you hear a knock at your door. you jump up, running to unlock it, greeted with your best friend dressed in all black.

“hi, channie.” you say softly, playing with the hem of your shirt. chan smiles, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“hi, hyung. i missed you.” chan whispers as you sigh, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. chan chuckles, squeezing you tighter. “you okay?” you shake your head.

“just… long day. needed to be around someone.” chan nods, caressing your back, holding you tight.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m here now, okay?” you bury your face deeper into his neck.

“okay.”

it feels like eternity, standing there in the atrium, hugging chan. but you wouldn't have it any other way. chan breaks the silence, clearing his throat.

“hyung, let's go to your room. you need to get some rest.” you groan, holding chan tighter.

“i'm not tired. i still have work i need to do, i’m so behind and-”

“hey, hey.” chan pulls away, holding your shoulders at an arm’s distance. “don't worry about all that. just get some rest, with me, yeah?” chan cups your face in his hand, caressing your cheek. you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“okay.. fine.” you give up, melting into chan’s touch. chan giggles, moving a hand from your shoulder down to your hand.

“that’s my hyungie.” chan praises, leading you up to your bedroom.

once you get there, you sit against the headboard of the bed, pulling a blanket over your lower half. “let me help you.” chan offers, sitting beside you and gently pulling the blanket over both of you. “we can watch a movie or something if you want?” chan suggests, snuggling closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“we can watch something, i'm okay with that.” you lay your head against chan's head, closing your eyes and sighing softly. chan moves a hand to your thigh, caressing it softly.

“alright, anything in particular you want to watch?” chan asks, rubbing small circles on your thigh, feeling your breathing slow down. “or should we pick something together?” chan hums, enjoying the warmth of your body against his.

“what was that movie you watched with stay the other day?” you ask. “i was busy when you watched it, so i never got to see it.”

“oh- about time?” chan blushes. “that’s like my favorite movie. i’d so be okay with watching that again.” you smile, reaching for the remote and turning on the tv. you pull up the movie and press play, chan’s thigh against yours, his hand caressing your skin.

the two of you enjoy the movie, cuddling and leaning against each other. about halfway through, a sex scene pops up on the screen, shocking you. you purse your lips, trying to focus on the screen, instead of the hand on your bare thigh. chan continues caressing your skin, seemingly unbothered by the scene on the tv.

“hyung.” chan whispers, moving his hand closer to your inner thigh. “i’ll stop if you tell me to.” you shake your head, eyes falling down to the blankets, covering chan’s hand.

“it’s.. it’s okay.” chan hums, continuing to stroke your thigh, matching the rhythm of the movie's steamy scene. he keeps his gaze on the screen, as you bite your lip and refuse to look up. chan slowly snakes his hand up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. chan nuzzles his face against your shoulder, as you bite back a whimper.

“hyung...” chan murmurs, turning to you, stopping his hand right above your growing bulge. “do you want me to stop?” his voice trembles, his breath warm against your neck.

you shake your head. “no, i… please keep going.” the movie forgotten, you purse your lips together, turning away from chan from embarrassment.

“good boy.” chan praises, his heart pounding out of his chest. he slides his hand up to your clothed erection, palming it gently through your shorts. chan presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, slipping a hand under your shorts and cupping your length over your underwear. you whimper, squeezing your eyes closed.

“channie…”

“shh, it’s okay, hyung. i’ve got you.” chan reassures, stroking your erection through your underwear. he presses soft kisses down your neck, nibbling gentle marks into your skin. “so fucking hot for me, yeah?” chan teases, increasing the pressure slightly.

“shit…” you bite back a moan, looking down at where chan is touching you.

“i know, baby.” chan coos, feeling you twitch beneath his touch. “i want to make you feel good, okay?” chan whispers, sliding his hand inside your underwear and gripping you gently. “is this okay?” he asks, his own erection straining against his pants.

“yes, yes, please, channie.” you beg, your dick twitching in chan’s hold. you shift the blanket, moving it off your crotch so you can watch him touch you. the cold air is a welcome feeling, as chan’s hand is so warm against you.

“fuck, hyung.” chan gasps, his eyes widening at the sight of your hardened length. he takes a deep breath, leaning down and taking you into his mouth.

“chris! oh, fuck.” you buck up into his mouth at the sudden feeling, his mouth warm and tight around your cock. chan chuckles around you at the use of his real name, as he moves a hand down to play with your balls gently.

chan hums around you, sucking harder, his tongue dancing along your shaft. chan caresses your balls gently, eliciting another whimper from you. “you taste so good.” he lifts off your cock to breathe, then dives back in, swallowing your length fully and bobbing his head rhythmically.

“channie, oh my god.” you bury a hand in his hair, just petting it, not trying to force him to stay down on your cock. you throw your head back, whimpering as chan swallows around you.

“i’m not stopping, hyung.” chan promises, leaning back down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks you deep. chan releases your balls, gripping your thighs tightly, hard enough to leave marks. “cum in my mouth, hyung.” he begs. chan increases his pace, sucking harder and bobbing quicker, his saliva dripping down your shaft. he takes you fully in his mouth, his nose brushing against your pubic bone. you hold back a loud moan and bite your bottom lip.

“close, channie. so close.” chan nods, swallowing around you, humming gently. a hot flash runs through your body, your hips bucking involuntarily into chan’s mouth. you come with a loud groan, filling chan’s mouth with your warm seed. you shake through your orgasm, your body going weak and your head falling back against the headboard. you pant, petting chan’s hair as he gently sucks you clean.

“there you go, baby.” chan praises, swallowing your cum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he presses a kiss to the side of your cock, humming happily. “are you alright?” chan asks, looking up, concern in his voice. you nod, visibly exhausted, opening your eyes slowly to see a red-faced chan with a crooked smile, his mouth slightly open.

“i- thank you, chan. that was…” chan giggles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“anytime, hyungie.” chan smiles, his heart racing. he sits closer to you, pulling you into a hug. “how do you feel?” he asks, his erection hard against your hip. you blush, leaning into his hug, shifting so your hip brushes against his bulge. chan whimpers, burying his face into your neck.

“i’m okay… what about you, channie? can i help you?” you whisper, caressing his inner thigh. chan whines, breathing heavily against your neck.

“hyung...” chan stammers, his erection pulsating against your hip. “i want to fuck you.” he confesses, his voice barely audible. “but only if you're okay with that.” he adds, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“oh, god.” you throw your head back in shock. “i want nothing more than that. please?” you plead and chan lets go of you, throwing the blankets off you both, sitting in front of you. he carefully guides you to lay on your back, your head against the pillow. chan giggles, slipping your shorts and underwear off your legs, leaving you alone in your shirt. chan slips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned body. you purse your lips together, admiring his body. “you’re so beautiful, chris.” chan blushes, looking away, covering his face with his hands.

“stoppp… i’m not.. i’m not beautiful.” you pull chan down, his legs kneeling on either side of your torso. you cup chan’s face with one of your hands, the other placed on his chest.

“you’re perfect, in every way. you’re so, so, pretty, christopher.” chan whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his face flushed red. “i mean it, baby. you’re so beautiful.” chan groans, pulling himself up.

“okay, okay, i get it, you’re in love with me.” chan teases, kneeling on his shins, slipping out of his shorts and underwear. you tilt your head to the side, admiring chan’s body.

“you’re not wrong. i’ve kinda always been in love with you, chris.” chan stops in his tracks, making eye contact with you.

“i… i love you too, hyung.” chan mumbles, his heart overflowing with emotion. he looks down, pumping his cock twice, his tip wet with precum.

you melt, reaching your hand out to hold chan’s. “so pretty, channie.” chan shakes his head, shy, taking your hand into his.

“hyung…” chan whimpers, his eyes locked on yours. he positions himself between your legs, his tip pressing against your entrance. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice shaking. you nod.

“i’m sure, channie. i’m good, go ahead.” you squeeze chan’s hand. chan takes a deep breath, pushing in slowly, hissing as he feels the tightness of your entrance. he stops, waiting for you to adjust.

“you okay?” he asks, his face flushed. you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping chan’s hand tightly.

“so- so big, channie.”

“sorry, hyungie.” chan apologizes, pulling out slightly and slowly pushes in again, a little further this time. “i’ll be gentle, i promise.” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face. you purse your lips together, gripping chan’s hand as tight as you can.

“it’s okay- ah,” you whimper. “you can go deeper. i can take it.” chan nods, thrusting slightly deeper, eyes blown wide at the sensation.

“fuck, you’re so tight, hyung.” he groans, starting a gentle pace, rocking back and forth out of you. you throw your head back at the burn, squeezing chan’s hand at every thrust. he squeezes back gently.

“puppy, feels so good.”

you can feel chan twitch inside of you, and he collapses onto your chest. he breathes heavily, holding your hand tight, stalling the movement of his hips.

“call me that again.” you chuckle, slipping your free hand into his hair.

“what..? puppy?” chan whines, burying his face into your shirt. he ruts up into you involuntarily, groaning as he pushes deeper into you.

“you’re driving me crazy, hyung.” his thrusts pick up again, going deeper every time. you softly pull his hair, groaning at the wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

“just like that, puppy, you’re doing so well.” chan gasps into your shirt, his pace growing frantic. he fucks you harder, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. you moan loudly, eyes blown wide, watching chan fall apart on top of you.

“i’m- fuck, i’ll cum if you keep calling me that.” he bites the fabric of your shirt, his dick twitching inside of you as he ruts deeper into you. you squeeze his hand, pulling his hair so he lifts his head. chan looks up at you with teary eyes, a pout on his lips. you pull him closer, kissing him gently, your tongue running over his bottom lip. chan whimpers into the kiss, his dick throbbing inside of you. he slips his tongue inside your mouth, matching the frantic movement of his hips. he bites gently at your bottom lip, licking into you hungrily.

“good boy,” you whisper between kisses. “just like that, puppy.” you suck on chan’s tongue, squeezing his hand. chan moans into your mouth, his thrusts becoming sloppy. he fucks you harder, feeling his orgasm building up.

“hyung!” chan cries out, holding your waist tightly. he gasps between kisses.

“come on, puppy, you’ve got it.” you praise, kissing his nose. “come for me, pretty boy.”

chan chokes out a sob, arching his back, releasing into you. he kisses you hungrily, riding out his high. “i love you, hyung.” he whimpers, spilling his seed into you, pumping it deeper. you pet his hair gently, letting go of his hand. you cup his face, caressing his cheek, wiping a stray tear off his face.

“you did so well for me, puppy. i love you so much.” chan nuzzles his face into your hand, quietly letting the tears fall. “hey, hey, are you okay..?” you panic, frantically wiping his tears with both hands. chan nods in your hands, taking a deep breath.

“yeah, i’m sorry, just…” chan wipes his own tears away, embarrassed. he buries his face into your chest, murmuring. “just overwhelmed.” his voice cracks. your heart aches.

“i know, baby. i’ve got you.” you hold him closer, petting his hair and kissing his scalp. chan whimpers, holding onto you tightly. he lays on top of you, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“you made me feel so good, hyung. thank you.” he mumbles into your shirt. you chuckle, tilting his head up by his chin to meet your eyes.

“anytime, channie. that was perfect.” you kiss chan’s nose. he giggles, kissing your lips tenderly. he smiles into the kiss, burying his face into your neck.

“thank you, hyung.” he whispers, nuzzling his face against your skin. you squeeze chan in your arms, sighing contentedly.

“i’ll hold you as long as you need, but we need to clean up soon, baby.” you caress his back, skating your fingertips along his muscles. chan shivers, snuggling into your embrace. he nods slightly, then slowly sits up, slipping out of you with a groan.

“we- we should clean up now, i think.” you nod, sitting up, wincing as globs of chan’s cum spill out of you onto the bedsheets. you chuckle, looking down at the blankets.

“we’re gonna have to do laundry, too.” chan giggles, helping you up to your feet, kissing your shoulder.

“let’s do that tomorrow, yeah? for now…” chan pulls you in for a passionate kiss. “let’s take a shower, okay?” he whispers against your lips. you nod, rubbing your nose against his.

“good idea, pup.” chan blushes, covering his face with his hand.

“stoppp it, hyung.” he whines, turning away and heading towards the bathroom as you follow closely behind, knowing that tonight is nowhere near over.

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x male reader #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bang chan x you #bangchan x you #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #m!reader

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darthgloris · 1 year

Text

2AM THOUGHTS #6: Anakin confesses to Y/N on accident

"Okay, what the fuck was that for?" Anakin demanded as he closed the door behind them.

"What do mean? I was protecting you!" She defended.

"And I was protecting you! You nearly died!" He yelled, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't need you to protect me, Anakin! I'm not a child!" She snapped, crossing her arms. "It was for the sake of the mission, all right? If I have to die for the cause, then so be it."

Those words seemed to make something click inside him. The fact that she would even think that some mission was more meaningful than her own life made his blood boil. He sauntered over to her, a flash of anger in his eyes that had never been directed at her scared her a little, and she walked backwards until her back hit the wall. "Don't you dare say anything of the sort ever again."

The small tinge of fear in her eyes as he looked down at her made his face soften and guilt took over him. The last thing he ever wanted was to make her fear him, and he felt disappointed in himself for treating her like this. He'd die for her, they both knew that.

He shook his head and sighed, stepping away from her. "Look, you're not less valuable than the Order. And you're certainly not going to try and protect me again."

"I'm always going to try to save you. There's nothing you can do to stop me. If you didn't do so many reckless things, maybe I wouldn't have to!" She replied, hands on her hips as she looked at him sternly.

"Then I'm not going to stop trying to protect you!"

"Why?! You're a Jedi, you're a General now, there are so much more important things at stake than my life right now!"

"Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay?! But it happened and I can’t do shit about it!" He yelled and the words reverberated in the room as he froze. Y/N also paused, her breath shaking as the words sunk in.

"You… what?" She breathed out, shocked.

"I- I- uh... I didn't mean to say that..." he stuttered out, terrified of her reaction. If she left him, he wouldn't be able to live with himself, and Ahsoka... Maker, he couldn't even imagine how heartbroken she'd be.

"Is it not true?" She asked, her brain barely registering his words.

"No, no, it is, I just..." he sighed mid-sentence, burying his face in his hands to avoid looking at her. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Oh, stars..." she sighed, leaning on the table for stability. "How... when..?"

"Does it really matter?" He asked, tentatively stepping closer.

"I... wow. I mean, you..." she could barely put a sentence together. "Anakin Skywalker... with me?"

"Of course I am. You're amazing," he said, tipping her chin to make her meet his eyes. "You're smart as a whip, you're kind, you're caring, you're beautiful, and, Maker, you're so great with Ahsoka that she almost loves you more than me, heh. I mean, how can anyone not want you?"

"Oh, Anakin..." she said, her heart swelling at his words. "You're so sweet. No man has ever treated me as well as you do."

"Really..?" He asked. His brain failed to comprehend how anyone could ever treat her with anything but love and respect.

"Yes. You're just so thoughtful, you remember the little things about me, and Maker, you melted my heart when I bled through my robes and you gave me your cloak to cover it up. I mean, every other guy just got grossed out and walked away." She recalled, cupping his cheek and nuzzling her nose with his.

He sighed shakily as he felt her breath fanning over his face. He was dangerously close to her, and he knew that he didn't have enough self-control to resist kissing her. "Um... may I?"

"Please." She whispered. He gave her a soft, gentle kiss on the lips that encapsulated all the pent-up feelings he harboured for her. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, slowly opening his eyes to look at her with lovestruck eyes.

"Was that okay?" He asked, caressing her face.

"It was perfect, Ani." She said and pulled his lips back to hers. He squeaked adorably in surprise and helped her hop onto the table, sliding between her thighs as he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

She couldn't get enough of him, and he certainly could never get enough of her.

Ahsoka was going to be thrilled.

#star wars #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #ahsoka tano x reader #ahsoka tano #tcw anakin #star wars the clone wars #tcw ahsoka

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christhopersturniolo · 6 months

Text

୨ PINKY PROMISE ୧

Summary: Y/n finally confronts her abusive dad, leading to a massive argument, where she leaves the house.

Warnings: Angst, daddy issues, violence, cussing.

Notes: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry about any mistake!

୨୧

Im on the living room couch since my dad left the house. My eyes blink slowly, struggling to stay open. I see on my phone, 2AM. The big yellow light only makes me drowsier at each second that goes by. As soon as my eyes close, I hear the door opening, automatically getting my attention.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I watch the old man walking through the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. The familiar smell of alcohol fills the room. He looks in my direction, his eyes narrowing as they land on me. “What the hell are you doing still up?" He asks with a tone of accusation.

I hesitate before answering, finding the right words. “I.. I was just waiting for you, dad.” I reply. The tension in the room is big.

"Waiting for me? More like waiting to nag me, you little brat." He scoffs as he walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting another alcoholic drink.

I feel the rage burning inside me, but I push it down, knowing it will only make things worse. “I was worried about you” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You were gone for hours, and..”

But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a bit of a laugh. “You are just like your mother, always putting your nose where you are not called” He takes another swig from the bottle. I put my phone in my pocket. I start getting up, maybe going to bed was actually the best idea, but it looks like he still has things to say. “You're the last person who should be worried about me, little bitch.”

All his words just remind me of how much I hate him. Since my mom died, nothing has been the same. He started getting into alcohol, drinking every day. I have bruises from all the times he had ever hit me. I hate when he mentions my mom, like he didn’t even loved her. I turn myself to him. “It’s not my fault you go out to drink like a fucking addicted, just because you can’t stand the idea of mom not being here anymore!” I say. “And I shouldn’t be worried?!”

“You are just like her” He looks at me with disgusted eyes. “Always running your mouth, just like your goddamn mother.” He gets closer, his breath hitting my face. “If she was here, she would be embarrassed of having you as a daughter, just like I am.” He pauses. “You are just a mistake. I wish I had used a condom that night. No one can fucking stand you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” I try to convince myself. Some tears running down my face, I just can’t avoid them. I feel more and more angry.

He simply keeps talking. “And let me tell you,“ He points an accusing finger at me. “That shitty boyfriend of yours? He’s just with you out of pity.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. You don’t know him, dad.” My breath gets heavier.

“He’s just using you, like everyone around you, piece of shit. You will see, as soon as he finds someone bett-“

Suddenly, before he could finish talking, I push him away from me, making him lose balance, almost getting him on the floor. “Stop! Just shut the fuck up already! Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream, tears blur my vision.

But my father’s rage only seems to intensify. He doesn’t give up. He comes back, his hand connects with my cheek, slapping me across the face, leaving a red mark. For some moments, I froze. “I hate you!” I yell "I hate being here! I hate every moment spent under this roof with you!"

“Ungrateful brat! That’s all you are!” He affirms, louder than me.

“I hate the way you treat me, the way you talk to me, the way you make me feel like I'm worthless! I’m out of here!” I use the same tone as him, but this time sobbing. And with that, I start walking towards the front door, I open it.

“Sure! get the fuck out of my house! And I don’t wanna see your ass back here when you realize the shit you’ve made!” He tells me. I take one last look at him before shutting the door.

I start crying uncontrollably as I walk through the dark streets. I don’t even have where to go, I just wanna get out of this place. The only thing I can think of is Chris. I need him. He’s the only one who will understand me.

The panic just builds up as I walk the fastest I can to his house. Each step that I take doesn’t feel real. How the fuck is this actually happening. After an eternity, I finally reach his house. I ring on the doorbell, nothing. It just makes me cry more and more. I ring again, still nothing. Until I finally see the door opening. His eyes half closed, shirtless only with his pajama pants on. He blinks in confusion.

“Y/n? What’s.. What’s wrong? What are you doing here?” He asks with his husky voice.

“Chris.. Im sorry.. I..” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat, I’m only able to cry. He pulls me into a hug, my head buries on the crook of his neck as I keep breaking down. He holds me tightly, as I cling to him, my tears soaking his bare skin.

He kisses the top of my head a few times “Shh it’s okay..” He whispers. “You don’t gotta say anything right now, I just need you to breathe, love. I’ve got you..” We stay like this for some moments, until I calm down a bit.

He pulls me back from the hug, making me look at him. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk better, huh?” He questions me calmly. Chris leads me to his room, always holding my hand. As we get there, he closes the door behind us.

“Let me get you something more comfortable to wear” He looks on his wardrobe. As soon as he finds it, he hands me an oversized hoodie and some fluffy pajama pants. Once I'm settled into the cozy clothes, my boyfriend guides me to his bed. We lay down, my head on his chest as a pillow. He strokes my hair gently. “I hate seeing you like this.. Do you talk about what happened?”

I sniff. “It’s just.. Everything with my dad..” My voice shakes as I talk. I start tearing up once again. ”We argued again, but this time.. I said I wasn’t coming back there, but I don’t even have anywhere to go..” I go back to crying.

“Listen to me, you do. You have me, you are staying here for how long you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t got you out of that house earlier.” He rubs my back.

I sigh. I look up at him with my watery eyes. “Can I make you a question?” I whisper.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you ever.. Do you ever regret being with me? Do you ever wish you were with someone else?”

Chris's brows furrow with concern as he looks into my tear-filled eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.. Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know.. My dad is always telling me how you are going to leave me and.. I.. I don’t know..” I say insecure.

Chris cups my face with his hands. “Y/n listen to me, those are just lies. Im not going to leave you and I don’t regret being with you, I love you.”

“Do you promise me?” He wipes away my tears with his thumb.

He extends his pinky finger towards me. “Wanna make a pinky promise?” His sentence makes me chuckle a bit, like a little kid. Slowly, I reach out and intertwine my pinky finger with his. “I promise that I will always be here for you, Y/n.” He smiles. “Now can you promise me that you will never doubt about it?”

“I promise Chris.” He gives me a soft peck on my lips.

୨୧

omg this end was so shitty

taglist: @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @orangelala @annamcdonalds67 @lilo7sworld @soso-scarlettolivia @junnniiieee07

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waynewifey · 1 year

Text

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

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i984 · 2 years

Text

Grump Black Cat

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Summary|: Wednesday Addams is more feline than you had thought.

|Warnings|: Soft! Wednesday Addams, sitting around reading books together like useless teenagers, reader brushes Wednesday's hair; Wednesday purrs, it's Wednesday's first time professing her love so bear with her.

|Word count|: almost 1k words

|A/n|: This was supposed to be a silly 'Ooh! Wednesday purrs when she's happy 'cuz she's the grumpy cat girlfriend' fic, but I frickin' got whiplash at 2am re-writing this like 5 times over, so I hope you enjoy!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Nervous.

That's how you feel as your fingers cards through Wednesday's hair.

Recounting the things leading to the sweet, intimate moment, you let out a shaky exhale. Earlier in the evening, you had nearly jumped out of bed when you received a text from your girlfriend.

Wednesday-frickin'-Addams has sent you a text; for the first time in your relationship.

Usually, she would opt to send Thing to relay her message to you on a piece of paper. But this time, it was different. There wasn't an independent appendage knocking at your window. There was only Wednesday's name displayed on your phone's notification.

I assume you're reading your murder-mystery novel?

And indeed you had. Wednesday knows about this; you had told her a couple of times that you've been reading some Agatha Christie novels your mother sent the other day. She's making small talk. Interesting.

You quickly reply with a simple 'yes' before asking Wednesday what she's doing.

Her response came about 7 minutes and 33 seconds later—yes, you counted—and instead of answering your previous question, she replied with;

I'm coming to your room. Don't move anywhere until I knock.

You would have thought that it was an ominous message, but your brain is too busy panicking at the premise of Wednesday coming to your room. In the middle of the night. Anything could happen.

Your heart races against your chest as you freeze on your bed—the book is long forgotten. You're counting the seconds now; 5 minutes and 45 seconds, 5 minutes and 46 seconds, 5 minutes and 47 sec-

The sound of waltz-rhythmed knocks on your door startled you. That's her. That's Wednesday.

You open your door, and you're immediately greeted with the sight of Wednesday's flushed cheeks; sweat trailing down her neck. Her black satin pajama clings to her figure. She must've run here.

"Is something wrong, Wednesday?" Your voice is now tainted with worry as you usher your girlfriend into your room.

Wednesday stays silent as she sits at your desk, and you can vaguely see her facial muscles relax. You decided not to push her for an answer. Maybe she only wants to see you; the thought makes your body flush slightly.

You take a seat on your bed and Wednesday's gaze trails after your figure. Patting the spot beside you, you motion for your girlfriend to sit there—your other hand grabbing the abandoned book.

Wednesday saunters over and hesitantly takes a seat. She watches as your eyes scan the pages, brows furrowed in concentration. You hadn't even noticed Wednesday looking over your shoulder to read the novel with you.

You both stay like that for a moment, reading in blissful silence. Neither of you tries to fill it; both hearts beat in tandem.

Soon you feel Wednesday presses her body slightly against you then her chin lays on your shoulder. You don't think she notices what she's doing; her mind is too caught up in the story to register her actions.

Wednesday is like a cat. A grumpy black cat. Cats are cute. Wednesday is cute.

You snorted at your train of thought and Wednesday shifts in her position. Before you realize it, you're already stroking your girlfriend's hair, and she sinks even more into your shoulder.

The book now long forgotten, you wish you could untie Wednesday's tight braids. Her hair always fascinates you; the lustrous glow, the silkiness of the texture, and the way it practically compliments her complexion.

"Can I brush your hair?" You whisper in her ear as you hand her the book. You don't even know why you're whispering, but when she only nodded in response, you knew it was the right move to make.

You walk over to your nightstand to grab a brush. Then you sit behind Wednesday to finally touch her smooth hair again.

"I'll untie your braids now," you softly announce into the room, and you gently detangle her locks.

Your breath hitches and your heart pounds rapidly at the intensity of it all; everything feels so intimate, and you feel yourself melt as your fingers card through her hair.

You take your brush and run it through Wednesday's hair delicately. Once the locks have straightened, you gently massage her scalp. It must've hurt having tight braids all day. You want to help her relax and relieve her pain.

You continue on your ministrations when suddenly you hear Wednesday starts purring..?

Wednesday Addams—your grumpy cat girlfriend—is purring with her hair down.

You had willed yourself not to squeal like a little kid; at the sound, the sight, the sensation. It's almost becoming too much for you; your heart nearly bursts at the situation. You hadn't thought a human could produce purring sounds, yet here you are.

Wednesday continues reading while making her happy cat noises, and you play with her hair while occasionally giving her back hugs. You both stay like this for a while, basking in each other's presence and warmth.

Wednesday finally closes her book and leans into your touch. At this point, you've both rested against the headboard, eyes drooping down heavily.

Wednesday takes your hand in hers, thumb tracing abstract lines onto your skin. It's moments like this when you realize your girlfriend has her guard down—something she can only do when she's with you.

"I missed you," you mutter softly, and Wednesday turns her head to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You slide down the covers, and Wednesday follows suit. "Good night, my grumpy little cat," you exhale and close your eyes before uttering three simple words, "I love you."

Wednesday steals a final look at your face for the night before finding the courage to let out her voice—just slightly above a whisper, and you can barely hear her.

But her words ring clear as you hear her hush out the words you had longed to hear.

"I love you, too."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams

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melobin · 11 months

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Okay Shotaro is definitely the type to do that. He's so caring and gentle. I feel like he would be the type to hold you while saying it, too. Probably even tell you to wrap your arms around him and then kiss your bicep/shoulder :( He'd probably be like, "I know it feels good, baby. You're doing so well. Shhh. You can take it."

Sungchan??? YEAH. He would 100% say that. During backshots. He'd reach over and kiss your back a few times while saying it, too. Probably say some shit like, "Shhh. Does it feel good? I know. I know baby. I know." And then ram into you even harder for the shits and giggles

Seunghan...I feel like he'd say it while giving you head...I feel like you'd be slightly over stimulated so your body's response is to push his head away or to push yourself up and away from him, but he'd pull you back to his face and be like, "where are you going?" then he'd make sure to wrap his arms around your hips so you don't run again. While you're a mess he'd say, "Shh, I know it feels good, baby. I know. I know. Shhh. I'm not done with you, yet." Hushed sweet tone. Making eye contact. Giving your clit a generous suck and "pop" sound between each phrase. Reaches up and rubs your stomach and tits

i’m almost 2am and i’m trying not to verbally scream out loud right now you’re INSANE 🫠 you’re so real for this.

shotaro … just wants to make you feel good and thinks you’re so precious when you have tears in your eyes and you’re whining about how good he’s fucking you,, holding you and just “i know it feels good baby, i know” in the sweetest fucking tone of voice… the “you can take it” too … will fuck you so deep and good whilst saying the sweetest things to you :( comforting you whilst you’re crying over how deep he is inside of you.

sungchan .. he’s just a fucking little bitch. having you crying into the bed sheet, biting down on them, he can tell how much you’re enjoying being fucked into oblivion by him, especially when you’re begging him not to stop and spewing out other words that just don’t make a coherent sentence at all. will fuck you brain dead then lean over you “baby you’re so fucked out on my cock, it feels that good yeah? taking me so well” all whilst fucking into you harder because he’s so addicted you to being completely broken because of him.

and seunghan … im weak. does everything he can to make you feel good but he’s just so obsessed with overstimulating you until you physically can’t take anymore. with his tongue too, wants his face between your thighs, tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you. his other hand holding your own, thumb rubbing goer the back of your hand comfortingly whilst you’re in tears from how good it feels. calms you down with his words but doesn’t stop, because he knows how good it feels. “shh baby it’s okay i know it feels good, you can cum again for me can’t you? you’re always so good for me” fingers curling inside of you during the time he’s speaking because your little gasps and whines just spur him on more

#✧ melody answers #✧ hard hours ✧#✧ anon #riize smut #sungchan smut #shotaro smut #seunghan smut

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foxyarchive · 6 months

Text

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P2

You officially meet Adam for the first time. It involves a lot of screaming.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, vomit, suggestive content..... Adam.

Words: ~5k

So good news! I now have a plot idea, but I don't want to whip it out yet. I need more Adam fun filler, but I'm running low on ideas. Please, lemme know what y'all wanna see Adam and the Reader get up to!!

P1 | P2 | P3

“Give me anotherrrr!” You cry out in enthusiasm, slamming the now empty shotglass on the bar counter. Your friends cheer you on, someone patting you on the back firmly enough to make you stumble forward. Thankfully, being right at the edge of the bar, you can brace yourself and stop from completely keeling over. Your friendly opponent smirks at you, sitting in the seat beside your own as he waves his hand to order another round.

“Didn’t take you as someone to be able to hold your liquor that well.” He comments, a small hiccup leaving him, and you just offer him a sharp grin.

“What? Jus’because imma WOMAN?” You scoff, swaying slightly in your seat.

“Yeah, put him in his place!”

“Show him you mean business!” Your friends cheer you on, and the stranger just laughs with an incredulous shake of his head.

“A whole entourage as well. Let’s see if you can keep up!” Another shot is brought to you both. Immediately, you grab for yours, and knock it back as fast as the other man. It’s sweet, and it goes down easy, but it roils as it settles in your stomach. So does the next one as you declare yourself capable of handling another. The room is almost spinning, now, and the stranger seems in better shape than you, but… Not by much.

“Think… Think I’ll… Get sick if I– I have another.” He hiccups mid sentence, trying to gurgle out the response, and you numbly nod your head in agreement. You offer him a hand, which he shakes, and the two of you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter at the absurdity. You reach out and hug him, and he reciprocates, and the hug is clumsy but it’s the thought that counts. Who knew your night would go down being challenged by a stranger in a bar? It was certainly fun, though.

For awhile, you thought you were the most fucked up, but it seems your friends were all rather wasted as well. Looks like getting a ride here was a good idea after all, even if it meant needing to pay for it… Twice, too, since you needed to get back to your house. It’s late, absurdly late. You’re too old to be staying out this late it feels like, but it’s the weekend, and you want to have fun, dammit. Against your better judgment, you have another drink– Something light, but still enough to give you more liquid courage to head up to the karaoke stage and belt out a song you don’t even remember with your friends.

2AM rolls around, and that’s when everyone is kicked out. Your mind is a horrible haze, and each step you take and the way you move your body is beginning to feel extremely purposeful. You’re trudging forward, leaning against your friends and giggling at literal nonsense. You open your phone as your friends do, all of you calling your own rides home. Everyone had arrived here together, and had decided to crash at your friend's place, but with it being this late and with how awful you’re beginning to feel, you just wanna go to your own home. Seems everyone else does, too. Looking down at your phone, you stare at it for a solid fifteen seconds as you try and decide what to do. What were you doing again?

Oh. Right. Getting a ride. Several others at the bar are as well. You open an app with shaky hands, trying to click your way to order something, but a sudden encroaching feeling washes over you. “G–Guysh, I … I needa piss, I’ll… Be back.” You slur to them, lightly dragging your hand down the hair of one of them.

“Okaaaay, be quiiiick!” Comes the hiccuped response, and you flash a thumbs up(more like a hand up) as you stumble your way back to the bar. You try to go in, but the door is locked already. You whine, pounding on the door, slumping your cheek against the side of it. It swings open, and you stumble forward, thumping into the chest of a burly doorhopper. You blink up at him, nearly falling backwards as he pushes you an arm’s length away.

“We’re closed, now.” He grunts.

“But I needa peeeeee!” You whine, shifting from foot to foot.

“Should’ve thought of that before we closed up.” Comes his brisk reply, and the door is slammed in your face. You let out a loud groan, tossing your head back, and turn around to look for your friends. You can’t see them anywhere, not with this many people, and you move forward to try and find them. Your steps are getting worse, and you’re hurting at this point trying to hold it in, and you’re unable to find them.

“UGH, whatever.” You grumble out, deciding to walk to a nearby gas station across the street. You slowly begin to stumble your way down the sidewalk, making it to the intersection. Another group of people are there, and you blink lazily, leaning against the poll. When they start to walk, so do you, following a decent distance behind just due to moving so slowly. Finally making it to the gas station, you walk in, shuffling to the bathroom door. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, and you finally get in and relieve yourself with a loud sigh.

After finishing up, you stumble out of the bathroom, and back into the cold of the night. With a shiver, you rub your arms, trying to figure out where your car is at. Nobody is around, now, but you see some cars across the street. That must be where yours is at… Or your driver. You ordered a ride, right? You begin to make your way back over, and with everything sounding so muted, you don’t hear the rumbling of cars in the distance. You head to the crosswalk, and you see a flash of green. Green means go, obviously.

You step out onto the street, beginning to walk across. White suddenly blasts in your vision. The loud roar of an engine catches up to you, and a shot of adrenaline suddenly flicks through your body as some of the haze clears. You realize what’s happening as a car zooms your way, along with two others in some street race. There is no way you can move out in time.

Oh, fuck. Are your last thoughts, before they collide with your body.

…Or, well, you assumed they did. Your body is suddenly sent flying, being jerked around, and you find yourself thumping against something solid as the wind whistles across your face. “Unf!” Is the only sound you make, and you blink open your eyes, seeing the cars whiz right past you. You’re on the sidewalk again. Oh. Maybe you had just imagined you’d walked into the street, and saw what happened if you had, and–

“Aren’t you little shits taught to look both ways before crossing or something?” A brash voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly realize there’s a weight on your arms. Someone is holding you. Blearily, you blink, craning your neck to turn and look at who is. You have to crane your head to look up. And up. And up. He– It– Is… Huge. It towers over you, face black like it’s horns, golden mouth and eyes peering at you in what you can only define as stark irritation. Oh, God, it’s some kind of demon. You don’t even notice the little round thing floating above its head.

You scream in surprise, scrambling away from its grasp as you stumble back towards the street. “You fucking idiot, I just saved you from doing that, don’t do it again!” It snaps, wrenching forward to grab you by the front of your shirt, dragging you towards it.

“P-P-Please don’t k-kill meeee!” You cry out, feeling tears run down your cheeks. You can’t comprehend what’s happening. What the fuck is this thing? Why is it touching you? Are you tripping balls right now? Holy shit, what did you drink? It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not–

“Why the fuck would I kill you? I just saved your ass! Twice! You’re fucking welcome, by the way.” It turns you away from the street, pushing you further into the sidewalk with enough force to where you collapse to the ground. On your knees now, you sob, cowering as you cover your face and wonder what you could’ve done to deserve such a fate to be hunted down by a demon. “Oh my fu– Wahh wahh wahh, can you stop crying, bitch? I saved your fucking life!” It seethes from above you, ripping a hand away from your face. Its glaring at you, teeth bared in frustration, and you just shudder and try to pull away, your heart racing in a panic. This is the worst trip of your life. You’re never drinking again.

“Let go!” You cry out, too inebriated to wrench yourself free from its powerful grasp. “Don’t eat my sooooouuuulll, pleeeeaase.” You sob pitifully, turning your head back away, and it just groans out.

“If I let you go, you’re not gonna try to run, are you?” It snips, and you just shake your head, agreeing with it. It lets go of your arm, and the first thing you do is stumble to your feet. You try to run, to get away. Still being extremely terrified and uncoordinated, though, you don’t make it far before you trip and fall with another cry.

“I’m going to fucking kill Sera for sticking me with this shit.” You hear the demon hiss as it approaches you. You’re wrenched to your feet, and you feel its arms wrap around your body.

“No! Nononono, I’m sorry! I’msorryI’msorry, I p-p-promise I’ll behave!” You gasp out, kicking your legs as it lifts you off the ground. You hear the whoosh of something, and then suddenly, you’re lifting into the air. It’s a feeling that makes your stomach curdle as you’re now weightless, ascending higher and higher into the sky as the demon kidnaps you. You kick and thrash, and all you can do is scream, trying to escape despite knowing that if you did, you’d very likely fall to your death. Being wasted did not help any thought processes. “Heeeeellllppp!” You scream out to someone, anyone, but a hand is briskly slapped over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, you whiny cunt! I’m trying to help you!” It growls in your ear as you zoom through the air. You’re going to be sick. Or faint. Probably a combination of both. Your vision is growing dark and cloudy. You need to be put down, now. You try to talk, but nothing comes out. You try to bite at its fingers, but are unable to. You try licking instead. Its wearing gloves. “You’re so fucking gross, stop doing that before I give you something to lick.” You don’t know what the threat means, but it doesn’t matter anyways. You feel on the verge of unconsciousness, before your stomach does another flip as you’re swooped down with the demon.

It places you on the ground, and you can barely recognize that you’re in some random park through your hazy state. It turns you around to face it, and that’s when you recognize the sight of wings curling back up to its side. Then, there’s that ring above its head again. Oh, God, was it… Actually an angel? Why did it look so demonic? It doesn’t matter. This isn’t real… Right? Oh, but your stomach is curdling and your hair is windswept and you’re freezing and– “I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re not going to scream. Got it?” It asks through gritted teeth. You blink, one eye at a time, giving a small nod of your head. Slowly, it removes its hand, squinting at you.

Sike. You open your mouth to cry for help once more, but in a flash its hand is back over your mouth. You lick it’s fingers again, trying to get it to stop, and it instead opts to push two fingers into your mouth now. A moan leaves your throat at the intrusion as you slump slightly, tongue naturally curling around the digits. The look of irritation is gone from its face, now. Instead, it watches you with intrigue as your tongue licks and sucks, head cocking slightly to the side. A small smirk places on its features as it leans closer. “This is a lot better…” It almost whispers, and you moan again against better judgment as it presses them in further.

Saliva pools at your lips and drips down your chin. A lot of it. An unnatural amount. Your throat constricts. Your stomach cramps. You know what's coming, and clearly the demon-angel does too. It wrenches its hand away, swiftly side-stepping as you hurl up the contents of your stomach. You fall to your knees, retching as everything you had drank and ate the past several hours comes back up and empties onto the grass. “Oooh… It buuuurnss…” You moan in pain, voice scratchy and warbly. There’s only a brief respite before you retch more, and you hear the thing beside you make a noise of disgust as it walks away.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally slump onto your side with a whimper, rolling away from your stomach juices. You shiver, feeling cold and exhausted as the adrenaline completely leaves your body. The haze in your head certainly doesn’t go away, though. You have no idea how you got to this park, as you realize that… Figment of your imagination was just that— A figment. It’s not here anymore.

“Fucking done yet?” A flat voice asks. Oh, shit, it is still here. It walks back over, arms crossed as it looks down at you, irritation on its face. You just whimper again, curling in on yourself.

“I… Want… Home…” Is all you can manage out, and it crouches beside you, wings flaring out.

“Where is ‘home’?” It asks, sounding none too pleased. You just groan out, feeling too tired to respond. Your eyelids are getting heavy. The world is growing dark. “Fine, just fucking– Stay there.” The thing is gone in a flicker of gold, and that’s the last thing you see before you pass out.

—---

Waking up was a mistake. You were sore as Hell. Your throat was burning, your mouth hurt, your head was throbbing, and your knees were aching. You try and flit through your memories to recognize why you feel so awful, besides the copious amount of drinking you surely did, but everything is just a blank right now. You smack your lips together, grimacing as you taste the sure sign of puke in your mouth. Well, that explains why your throat burns and your stomach is howling. With a heavy groan, you slowly get up, trying to shield your eyes from the light that pours into your room.

You slip inside the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you turn the shower on. You take something for your pain, popping into the shower with a gratifying sigh as you feel the warmth of the water relax your aching muscles. You wash your hair and body, spend longer than necessary in there, and finally decide to crawl out. After drying yourself off and putting on some comfortable clothes, you head into the kitchen, your cat letting out a loud meow. “Hi, mister meow. I know, I know, give me a moment and I’ll feed you.” You pet him as he rubs against your leg with a purr. You fix yourself a bowl of cereal, feed your cat, and settle on the beanbag with a relieved sigh as you flip on the television.

You’re still trying to remember last night’s details as you slowly eat, blinking lazily at the TV as you chew unceremoniously. You feel like a cow gnawing on cud with the way you’re chewing, but your body still feels to be moving in slow motion. Well, that is, until something pops up in front of you. “Huh. You didn’t kick it. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.” Your body jerks in surprise, and you nearly go flying off the beanbag as a scream of shock and terror rips from your sore throat. Some of your cereal spills, but it’s a Godsend that the whole bowl doesn’t go flying out of your hands. You look up at the… The thing towering over you, and suddenly, everything is starting to be pieced back together.

“Y-Y-You’re–” You try to stammer out, and he just scoffs, straightening up, previously being hunched over you.

“You’re– You’re– You’re–” He mocks you in a feminine voice as he flutters his wings and makes hand gestures. Despite still feeling an abundance of fear in your core, it’s lessened just a bit by this, and an ounce of irritation crawls up your spine. “Can you stop being such a fucking pansy for five minutes and let me talk? Sheesh…” He glowers at you, and you decidedly shut your mouth. His hand then shoots down, and he grabs the bowl of cereal from your hands abruptly. “And give me this. Making me hungry.” He scoffs, taking a bite of your cereal as you try to process what exactly is happening. Okay, so this definitely is happening, then. You blink owlishly, still trembling, on the verge of a panic attack.

The angel-demon chews loudly, looking down at you, unimpressed. “Chillax, ‘tits, I’m still not gonna hurt you. Remember what I said last night?” He drawls out as he chomps on your cereal, and you frown at his words, drawing your legs up to you.

“...Barely.” You mutter. You remember him, but not exactly what happened. You decide questions are the best thing to get started, here, because he does seem placated for now… “What–” You begin to ask, before stopping yourself. Well, he was clearly a… He. A person, and not some… Entity. He ate, after all, and talked like a person. Too much like a person, in your opinion… “Who are you?” You decide to ask.

“Adam.” He responds, and you blink. That’s… Such an ordinary name. You’ve met at least two Adams in your life. You were expecting something more inhuman, like… Zeretath. Or Angeclous, or something! “I see that look on your face, bitch. I’m not just any Adam. I’m the Adam.” You offer him a blank stare, and he looks back at you, scoffing. “You know. The original. First man, first dick. You descended from these fuckin’ nuts.” He smirks, pointing a finger down to where you assume his crotch is. Your face heats up at the implication, at first, before your eyes widen in shock once more.

“Wait– Like, Adam and Eve?” You can’t help but ask, and you figure that’s maybe the wrong thing to ask, because he immediately tenses and a scowl crosses his face.

“Don’t you fucking say that bitch’s name.” He hisses out at you, bending over to glare at you, and you shrink back with a squeak, trembling again. He squints at you, before straightening up. “But yeah. That.” He snorts, taking another bite of cereal. You don’t know what to say. You’re flabbergast right now. Part of you doesn’t believe him, or believe that… Any of this is real. You’re most certainly awake, though, you know that for sure. You also saw him just pop into existence right in front of you. What should you do? Was bowing appropriate here to the first human created? Should you call him something other than Adam? He seemed so… Casual. And he looked nothing like you thought he would. Wow, human evolution had really come a long way. The stories painted him nothing like you thought he’d be like.

‘Made in His image’. God looks a loooot different than people perceived him as, then. You thought about asking him about it, but was a bit afraid to spark his ire anymore. Instead, you decide to ask, “Why are you here? Right now and last night?” You’re still hesitant, legs drawn up to your chest, but your arms have loosened around them a bit.

“Guess ‘cause you’re one lucky sonofabitch. I’m your guardian angel.” He smirks, finished with your breakfast as he tosses the bowl and spoon carelessly aside. You expect to hear it shatter, but to your surprise you see it just float off and land with a small clang on your counter. You look back at Adam, eyes still round.

“Is that your… Role? In Heaven?” You ask, and he scoffs, flicking something off of his robes with his fingers.

“Fuck no. That shit is way below my paygrade.” He responds, and your confused look makes him clarify. “I guess it’s some shit every angel has to do at least once, aaaand it was my turn, or whatever. So. You’re my first.” He raises a brow, offering you a sly grin with the cross of his arms. “Congrats, you popped my guardian cherry, babes.” You can’t help but grimace at the comment, your legs sliding down now that you felt less… Intimidated.

“So basically you just… Save me from death?” You ask, trying to understand what exactly a guardian angel’s job was. You didn’t even know it was real. You’d heard the phrase ‘your guardian angel must have been looking out for you!’ before, but you, like everyone else, had always just thought that’s what it was. Some phrase that held no merit. “Am I immortal, now?” You blink in realization.

“Pfft. No.” He laughs at the thought, almost mockingly, sneering down at you. “You’re still gonna kick it. And whenever it happens it’ll probably fuckin’ suck. I’m just here to make sure you don’t kick it before your predetermined death time arises.” You tilt your head in curiosity at this comment.

“So you know when and… How I’m going to die?” You ask, hesitantly, a bit of a chill running own your spine. Could you have your very life laid out right before your eyes right now? Could you even… Cheat death if he gave you the answer?

“Yeeeep. I know everything. I’m fuckin’ Adam.” He emphasizes with a smirk, pointing to himself. His next response is one you’re partially expecting. “And, no. Don’t bother asking. I can’t tell you, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. I also can’t answer any other questions about the pearly gates, or other divine beings, yadda yadda, you get the idea.” He makes a talking motion with his hand, looking bored as he gives this spiel you assume he’s meant to give. You partially wonder if he actually is supposed to be talking to you. After all, you haven’t heard anything about guardian angels talking to the person they’re guarding… Then again, you have never heard of them actually being real.

“So do you just… Know when I’m going to be in trouble? Or can I like, call for you when a situation seems unfavorable for me?” You inquire, sitting up a little more as you look over him. Goddamn, he is massive… Easily over seven feet. Maybe about eight. It’s a little horrifying, truth be told. You’re still pensive about him, and you’re not going to try to poke the bear by any means. You’re certain that his hand could completely cover your face if he so wanted it to.

“I have this sorta sixth sense for when shit is gonna go bad for you. Allows me to just pop over whenever I need to.” He explains, hands on his hips now. His wings are tucked at his side. How interesting… A sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Wait– Have you been following me my whole life then?” You blink, and he takes this time to poke around your house nosily.

“Correct-a-mundo. Remember that time you almost drowned as a tot?” He’s looking through your cabinets now at various snacks and utensils you have stocked away. Cautiously, you stand, not approaching, but nervously moving about nearby.

“No.” You admit with a frown, trying to rack your brain.

“Fuckin’ course you don’t. You were like, three. Wandered into a pool like a dumbass and I gripped you out by your fat head so you didn’t drown.” He’s grabbing a bag of chips, opening it up as he tosses a few in his mouth. You don’t even know what to say. He’s been watching you your whole life and only now you know about it? You try to wrack your brain for any other near death moments you can think of.

“Oh! What about that one time when I was thirteen? I was at a park, and I tried to do a backflip off of a swing, and I could’ve sworn I was gonna land at an angle that would break my neck, but I somehow didn’t. Was that you?” Enthusiasm is thick in your voice as you pinpoint a possible moment it could’ve happened.

“Nah, don’t remember that.” He says through munching. “Oh, there was that time though when you were like… I’unno, ten? You were fuckin’ around with some friends, and one of them swung a metal bat and your head was like, right in the way.”

“Oh, shit, I remember that!” You gape. You still remember the thunk it had made against your head… Boy, you’d had a nasty goose egg and couldn’t sleep on the side that had gotten hit for awhile. “Wait, though. That hit my head. Are you… Telling me that would’ve killed me if you weren’t there?” You suddenly gape, a shiver running down your spine at the thought.

“Bingo. Would’ve caused enough internal bleeding to knock you the fuck out forever. Kids are fucking insane.” He grimaces, leaning against your counter as he eats. “Put my hand right between your thick skull and that bat. That other fucker swang so hard it bruised my hand, little bitch…” He utters the last part, a scowl overtaking his features as he chews more on his– Your– chips.

“How come I didn’t see you?” You blink in surprise, suddenly realizing you hadn’t noticed him at all. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Well, first off, only you can see me.” He explains, brushing some crumbs off of his robe and onto your tile. It’s your turn to scowl now. “Secondly, you’re not supposed to see us. Well, me. Y’know. Your guardian.” He snorts, chewing some more, and your scowl softens into just a frown now.

“Err… So, then, why are you letting me see you now? And talk to you?” You decide to ask, hesitantly, and he shrugs his shoulders as he tosses more chips into his mouth.

“Because this whole guardian bullshit is so fucking boring. I gotta keep loose tabs on your whole life? That’s like, a ninety year commitment.” He groans out, tilting his head back dramatically. His horns nearly knock a small succulent off of your counter.

“So I do live a long life?” You raise a brow, and his head snaps back up to you, squinting.

“I didn’t say that, bitch, I was giving an example.” He snips, and you just close your lips.

“You have an awfully filthy mouth for an angel.” You find yourself saying, eyes widening as you slap a hand over your mouth. Oh, fuck, you didn’t mean to say that outloud. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t seem to take offense. In fact, he actually grins, and lets out a bark of laughter.

“You think angels are these perfect, pure, holy beings? Because you’re fuckin’ wrong.” He chirps, straightening up with a flutter of his wings. It knocks off a piece of paper mache, and you frown at the action. “Okay, well, a lot of them are, but that’s just because they’re too pussy to say what they’re really thinkin’ because they don’t wanna become fallen or whatever. Not how it works, but those fuckers don’t know that, and it’s hilarious seeing the lengths some of them will go to scramble so that I don’t report them or whatever.” He laughs again, and you can’t help but to make a small face with how malicious that sounds like it is. It… Probably is, honestly. Adam finishes your chips and carelessly tosses the bag aside.

You shift from foot to foot, trying not to be intimidated as he walks towards you, pausing as he glances to the side. Your cat has walked back up to you with a purr, rubbing against your legs, and you pick him up for cuddles. “What does it mean to… Become fallen?” That sticks out in your mind, and you pause as you realize he probably can’t tell you. There seems to be this look that dawns on Adam’s face as well, as he seems to realize what he said.

“Oh, uh… Angel stuff. Can’t tell you.” He huffs, crossing his arms as he looks down at the cat in your arms, who’s purring contently. A squint is sent your feline’s way, and he sticks his tongue out it, and you can only watch with wide eyes. “Anyways. You’re alive, I’ve done my job, easy fuckin’ day. Glad you’re not as annoying as I thought you were initially, with how last night went. I gotta skedaddle now, though, got angel shit to do. Important shit. I mean, I’m kinda a big fuckin’ deal, so don’t you forget that, sugartits.” He grins down at you, and you scrunch your nose up at the nickname.

“I have a name, you know.” Comes your response, and he just waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, I know.” You deadpan.

“Okay. What is it, then?” You wait, and he hems and haws, briefly, wings flicking as he taps his chin in thought.

“Um… Al… Elm… J… Je…” He begins to utter out sounds that could possibly be your name. He can’t be serious. He’s been following you your entire life and he can’t even remember your name? You give him your name, your face and tone still deadpan, and he snaps his fingers, before he scoffs. “Obviously! I was just about to say that. You got no fuckin’ faith in me, ‘tits. Try to have a little more faith. I’ve saved your life three times now.” He hunches over you, and in reflex you set your cat down, afraid of this going south for whatever reason. You peer up at him with wide, significantly more anxious eyes, now. “If you were up top… You’d owe me. Big time.” He leans in closer, gripping your chin with a grin as he pulls you somewhat closer to his face. It looks… Off. Almost digital. You can’t describe it. Angels were so strange.

You swallow. Nervously. Something in you makes you retort, “...It’s your job.” He just sneers at your reply, letting you go and pushing you back slightly as he puts room between the two of you.

“Yeah. I know. And I’m fucking awesome at it, like everything else. You’re a lucky bitch.” He strums what you can only assume is air guitar, before flashing you the devil’s horns as he sticks out his tongue when he grins at you. “Later.” He’s gone, once again, in a puff of golden, smokey sparkles. You’re now left with crumbs to clean up, an empty bag, and a lot to think about.

#reader insert #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam x you #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #reader #you

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askinkiskarma · 2 years

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The Archer | Chapter II: Out of the Woods

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: A fight with Neteyam makes you run to the forest with the rest of the Sully kids, right into the arms of the enemy. You come face to face with a man you never thought you'd ever get to see.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 10,2k words

Warnings/notes: smut(18+, minors DNI!), angst, mentions of death, disease, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I am writing this at 2am, so my apologies for any grammar errors, I am exhausteddd!! I don't know if you can tell, but I am actually really struggling writing any of the scenes (particularly action scenes) from the movie, and describing what is happening on the screen is the bane of my life. Also, sometimes I can't understand what the dialogue is and I can't find the script or english subtitles and it makes me unnecessarily upset. Also my inspo for the dad is Oscar Isaac cause wow what a man. Can he be my daddy too? Hahahaha ok i'm so tired i'm gonna go to sleep enjoyyy x

Remember when I hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room

When you started crying, baby, I did too, but when the sun came up, I was looking at you

Remember when we couldn't take the heat? You walked out, you said "I'm setting you free"

But the monsters turned out to be just trees, when the sun came up you were looking at me

You watched Neteyam leave the comfort of your shared tent and you instantly knew he felt horrible about what he said. You knew he didn’t mean it, but in this moment, you didn’t care. He had to have meant it to a certain degree for it to come out so easily out of his mouth.

As you were preparing to leave, unable to spend the night in this place, in this tent, where everything hurt, where every corner had photos and trinkets and memories that you couldn’t bear look at in this moment, you heard a squeaky voice you loved break through the unbearable silence. You were a mess, you knew, paint splattered all over your face, neck and torso, seeping into the woven fabric of your top, but you wouldn’t deny her - you couldn’t.

“Come in, Tuk-tuk.”

She gently opened the flap and walked in sheepishly, carrying your mother’s guitar that you gifted to her almost a year ago.

“I’m sorry about Neteyam.” She looked so sad you almost started crying again, this pure soul who felt and cared for everything around her, listened to everyone and always made you feel important, always made you feel heard.

You knelt and opened your arms in her direction, and you saw her place the guitar carefully on the ground and run into your open arms.

“Oh, my dear girl, you have nothing to be sorry about. That is between me and him, it has nothing to do with you, alright, baby?”

“But it does have to do with me, because he is wrong. You have a family, you have always had a family. We’re your family. Sullys stick together.”

The tears started as if completely independent from the rest of your body, and you couldn’t stop the cry that made its way out of your throat without your consent. This little girl you loved so much managed to undo so much of her brother’s mistakes in just a few words, and you felt so grateful to have her in your life, so grateful to have someone to call a sister.

“Baby, I was going to go wash this whole day off, would you like to come with me? We can take Neyn, we can bring the guitar, you can sing to me the song I showed you?”

“Yay, adventure time!”

You chuckled at this 9 year old who reminded you a lot of Lo’ak at her age, always up for new experiences, as long as it avoided the boredom of the mundane. You knew you were going to get in trouble with Jake and Neytiri for taking their youngest away at night, but right now you just needed to be away from here, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to turn away this precious soul who just made you less miserable in just a few minutes.

You sneaked out of your tent, feeling stupid for feeling like you had to sneak out in the first place, like you were an unruly teenager, not a full-grown adult who just got her heart broken by her mate. He should be sneaking out. As a matter of fact, he should be sneaking in, begging on his knees for your forgiveness, like he used to when he was young. I guess that’s just another thing that has changed in the year you have become mated. You signalled for Tuk to get on your ikran, who was dozed off next to the rest of your family’s, and you cursed yourself for waking her up after such a traumatic day.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” You said with a kiss on her snout, and she cooed affectionately at you. You made the tsaheylu and you couldn’t feel any fear, anxiety or frustration in her thoughts, which put your mind at ease a little, and, with a hand on the neural whip and the other wrapped tightly around Tuk’s chest, you took flight.

It was a short trip to the cave you and Neteyam come to all the time, the one that had a small subterranean lake that you would sometimes wash in. The water was absolutely freezing, never seeing the light of day, but it was peaceful and clean, and that sounded as good to you as heaven right now. You dove in without a second thought, the freezing water inundating all your senses, healing all the wounds that were scratching painfully at your heart.

Why would he say that?

I mean, you did attack him about saving his baby brother, who would have probably died if it wasn’t for him.

He should’t have to keep saving Lo’ak at his own expense.

He shouldn’t have to, but he does. Lo’ak wants to prove himself, and Neteyam is a protector by nature. It’s like asking water to not be wet.

I want to kill Lo’ak.

No, you don’t. Because you understand Lo’ak. You’re sad for Lo’ak, for always living in his brother’s shadow, for always getting the cold shoulder from his dad, who you also know is just being harsh because he has to be, because no one else can be.

What if he dies? What do I do then?

Your mind didn’t have a quippy answer to that - or any answer at all. You were left alone, with no answers and enough terror to fill this whole floating cave and overflow around it. You emerged from the water and got on your back, just floating aimlessly, trying to get your heart to stop pounding in your chest and the tears stop pricking at your eyes. What if he dies?

“Can I swim with you?”

Tuk’s question pulled you out of your frightened contemplation, and you realised you have probably been unnervingly quiet for too long.

“It’s really cold, Tuk-tuk, I don’t want you to get sick. How about I take you to a warmer lake tomorrow and we can swim together, would you like that?”

“YES!”

“Can I come, too?”

The deep voice stopped you in your tracks, and you almost drowned when your feet stopped paddling underwater to keep you upright.

“NETEYAM!” Regardless how upset Tuk was at her older brother’s words, Neteyam would always be her favourite. Her favourite sibling, her favourite family member. Some people in the village loved asking Jake and Neytiri whether Tuk was more a mother’s or a father’s girl, but in reality, Tuk was her brother’s girl.

“Hi, Tuk. What are you doing here? You want to give mother and father a heart attack?” The little girl’s face was nestled in Neteyam’s neck, hidden from sight behind his long braids that moved as she chuckled.

“I wanted to keep my sister company.”

“You need to go to sleep, parultsyìp. How about I take you back home and then I can keep her company?”

“Will you apologise?”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and looked to the ground - he was embarrassed.

“Yes, I will apologise. Come, let’s go.” He let her down and patted her back affectionately to get her to go ahead before him.

“Please don’t leave? I’ll come as soon as I make sure she’s with my parents.” He looked at you pleadingly, begging you silently. A year ago you would have ran for the hills, took off to not be found by anyone, but just like so many other things, this has also changed. You weren’t a child anymore, careless and impulsive, controlled by your never-ending grief and anger; you had to be better. You were someone’s daughter now, someone’s mate, someone’s sister. You were a future Tsa’hik, you were one of the best warriors in the clan. People depended on you. Despite what Neteyam so cruelly told you, you did have a family. And he was part of it. So you would wait.

You nodded without looking at him, and you heard him sigh in relief. He placed something on the ground before he turned on his heels with Tuk in his arms, and you noticed with a sudden burst of pain felt all within you that it was a flower bouquet. That’s why he took so long…

You washed yourself properly now that you were alone, and when you got out, you noticed the guitar that Tuk forgot to pick up with her still resting on a wall of the cave. You sat next to it, back resting on the same wall, and picked it up, your mind immediately wandering to your mum. With everything going on around you, you have not been able to visit the Tree of Souls after your consciousness transfer. It’s been a year since you saw your mum as you lay dying and you regretted every day not going back to visit, to see if you could see her again, see if Eywa would be able to bring her back to you, at least in this way. The guitar was tiny in your hands now, but you could still play the chord if you were really careful. You started strumming a song, and let yourself sing to let out the hurt and fright.

Looking at it now, it all seemed so simple, we were lying on my couch, I remember

You took a Polaroid of us, and then discovered the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour

Your bracelet hanging from my hand, the night we couldn’t quite forget, when we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance, baby, like we stood a chance, two paper airplanes flying

And I remember thinking, are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?

“Well… we are definitely out of the woods.”

You saw Neteyam’s shadowy figure slowly walking towards you, deeper in the cave, the silhouette of his body and the braids swinging from of side to the other to only thing you can make out in the darkness. You glared in his direction and he winced, already regretting his words.

He sat down in front of you, with his legs crossed so your knees were touching. He reached a hand to your knee and caressed it gently.

“Thank you for waiting.”

You refused to look at him, instead opting for the dimly illuminated lake to your left, that twinkled every time a drop of water would fall from the ceiling. You traced the stalactites and their curious shapes, fascinated with they clung to the wall, when you felt Neteyam’s hand on your cheek, softly turning your face to face him.

“Atan, please, look at me. I can’t stand it when you refuse to look at me.”

Tears fell from your eyes like water from the roof of the cave, and eventually you looked at him, and saw his pained expression, and you knew how bad he felt. You could feel it in your soul, his misery, but it did very little to comfort you. It was easy to feel bad after the fact.

“Atan… I am so sorry. I could never express into words how sorry I am, I will pay my whole life for what I said, what I spat at you in a moment of stupid anger. I just want you to know that it isn’t true. What I said, it isn’t true. You’ve always had a family. You’ve always had us, and Norm and Max. You’ve always had me. I have been your family my whole life, and I am so, so sorry. There’s no excuse for what I said.”

“I forgive you.” You placed your hand on his chest when you noticed him trying to get close to you. ‘I’m not finished.”

“I forgive you. But I need some time.”

“What do you mean you need some time?”

“I mean, I have to figure out how I will do this. How I could possibly do this. How I can watch the man I promised to spend the rest of my life with kill himself before the rest of my life can ever come, and learn to ever be ok with it.

You were right. I never had a family. I had a mum who didn’t want to live past my tenth birthday, friends I cared for, but that lived in a completely different world to mine, people that tried to be there for me but I pushed them away, a dead dad and you. A guy I loved my whole life who left me without saying goodbye. I’ve never had a family.

But I have one now. And you’re right. You’re right, it isn’t a choice. If I had to choose between my life any of yours, I would give mine up in an instant. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure you are safe. So I do get it. But that doesn’t mean that I can watch you do it.

I know how hard this is on you… how much this enormous unspoken pressure weighs on you. Being Olo’eyktan, being the oldest son, the big brother, the protector. I know you won’t say it, and you won’t complain, but I know. You have nightmares, and you cry in your sleep. You cry for your dad, and for Lo’ak… for Tuk… for me. I hoped that you would talk to me about it, and I’ll be here to listen when you feel ready. I’m sorry you feel like you have to go through this alone.

But I don’t know if I can’t stand and watch you kill yourself. Because it will kill me too. So until I figure it out, I need some time.”

Neteyam was shedding silent tears that refused to stay hidden, and he felt his heart break at all your words, each one harder to hear than the last. Time? He didn’t have time. Time was for a different period of your lives, before the humans came, when you were young and wild and free to run through the forest whenever you pleased. Time was for when you made him sit through an entire season of a show he couldn’t understand half the words to, but he was just happy to sit in silence next to you, hearing your laughter bless his ears, his mind, his soul. Time was for when he took his siblings through the forest to forage for rocks and beads because Kiri wanted to make them all something special to wear for his second birth. There was no more time, no more future, no more past. Just the now, waiting to see what the humans have planned next, what hell they’ll rain on this planet this time, and who will suffer as a consequence.

“Atan…”

“I don’t want to put you out, so I will go sleep with the rest of the Avatars for a while. I have work to do in the lab anyway, so it’ll probably work better this way anyway.”

Neteyam saw you get up from where you sat, deep coldness settling where your knees weren’t touching him anymore and dispersing all throughout his body. He saw your back turn and you made your way out of the cave, stopping to pick up the flowers that he spent an hour collecting for you. You brought them closer to your face and smelled them, smiling sadly.

“Thank you for the flowers. It’s good to know at least some things haven’t changed. I love you, Neteyam. I’m sorry.”

Neteyam couldn’t find it in him to get up from the floor, and he felt the hopelessness envelop him like a blanket that he was suffocating under. What was he supposed to do? What did this mean? Is this a human thing? Neteyam remembers when you were much younger and you had to explain to him the concept of a “break”, after making him sit through a whole Friends marathon. Is this what this was? You were asking him for a break? Were you breaking up with him? Today just feels like a never-ending nightmare, and he was hoping that you would wake him up, like you always did, comforting him and singing him back to sleep. He didn’t have it in him to go back to the camp, so he lay on the cold ground of the cave, and let himself fall into a restless slumber - even if real nightmares did invade his subconsciousness, how much worse could they get?

You spent the next few days mostly in the lab, trying to take care of everyone who was affected in the fateful mission that left more than physical scars behind. It was a full-time job, as there were a lot of victims that required surgical intervention, which you were more than happy to do yourself. You’d like to think that it was because it would bring you peace - helping others - but you knew deep down you were also happy to be able to avoid Neteyam. You felt bad for what you said, bad for distancing yourself from someone you loved more than life itself, but you were still hurt and angry, still terrified and paralysed at the thought of losing him. You don’t know what this distance would achieve, but you were hoping for some clarity and perspective.

Norm and Max came in the little lab you turned into an intervention room as you were finishing checking in on the people you operated on a couple days ok, making sure their vitals were normal.

“OK - spill. What happened?” You heard Norm speak over the machines beeping in the room.

“What do you mean?” You removed your gloves and quietly made your way out of the lab.

“You’re never here this much anymore. I’m sure there are better things to be doing, and you know very well me and Max, or hell, Claire and Tim can take care of people post-operatively. We all know how to stitch wounds, Ace.”

“Not as well as me.”

“True, but definitely better than we would be at scouting and hunting, which is what you should be doing. So something happened. Had a fight with Neteyam?”

“Of sorts.”

You reached the dry labs and sat on one of the chairs that you barely fit in anymore; your elbow resting on your thighs, you put your head in your hands and sighed deeply.

“You’re gonna remove all the oxygen in the room if you sigh that hard.”

“We fought about the mission a few days ago. Lo’ak disobeyed Jake and got himself in danger - as usual -, and Neteyam got hit by the explosion as a result. I yelled at him about it, he yelled at me, it got ugly. I told him I need space. So I’m taking space.”

“So that’s why you’re sleeping in our tent. I knew it wasn’t just so you could check on people easier. Liar.”

“It’s not a complete lie, but yeah.”

“So what were you yelling to each other about?”

“So I said -“

Loud commotion happened around you as the door to the outside opened and in came Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider.

“Yeah, haha, real hysterical, you guys. You know what really sucks, though? That you can breathe the air here for hours, and I can only breath your air for like ten seconds.”

“Yeah, monkey boy, that really sucks. For you.”

Spider and Kiri have always been close, but recently, you felt a shift in their dynamic. It was a lot more flirtatious than friendly, and you couldn’t help wonder if there is something going on beneath the surface. Their interactions reminded you a lot of you and Neteyam’s before he left, just intimate enough they didn’t feel platonic anymore. Having been in Spider’s shoes, if there was, you felt bad for him. It was a slow poison, loving someone you know you could never have - whose body is literally incompatible to your own. You have always felt bad that you got an Avatar and Spider didn’t. In reality, you felt like he deserved it more. He has always been so connected to the Na’vi, so inseparable from the Sullys, so desperate for a family and a sense of belonging. Nobody knew this, but you were working hard to try to see if it was possible to build him one too. It would take time, but with the new technology and supplies the humans brought with them, maybe it wasn’t a pipe dream anymore.

Kiri finally acknowledged your presence.

“Hey, everyone!”

“Hey, kids!” Max chipped in enthusiastically. He loved when the Sullys came to visit.

“Hey, what’s up, Max?”

You didn’t look at Lo’ak, although he came really close to you and sat on a chair in front of yours. He moved on the chair until he was face to face with you, and put both of his hands on either side of you on the arm rests to force you to face him.

“Angel, are you going to be upset with me forever?”

You scowled at him and he smiled, and you melted a little. You could never stay mad at Lo’ak.

“You are a public menace, do you understand this?” it was his turn to scowl now, and he turned his gaze away from you - he seemed upset. You took his face in both your hands and brought his gaze back to yours.

“Lo’ak, I need you to be more careful. Please. I can’t lose you. And I can’t lose Neteyam, who will die one day trying to protect you. I know it’s hard, I know there’s so much you want to do and so much you want to prove, but please. Try?” You were looking at him as seriously and warmly as you could, pleading him to hear you, pleading that he would listen. He looked at you intently for a long time, and eventually, he nodded softly, looking remorseful. You moved his head downward a little so you had better access to his forehead and you gave him a quick peck, and noticed the slight purplish tint of his cheeks. You could never stay mad at Lo’ak.

“We’re going to go take a walk in the woods, come with us, please? I know you’re mad at Neteyam, but you can’t stay here forever. Even Norm and Max go out more than you.”

“Lo’ak, you shouldn’t be walking through the woods, you know this.”

“We’re not going to go far. We’re even taking Tuk, you know we would never put her in any danger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “She blackmailed you to come, didn’t she?”

You saw Lo’ak rolls his eyes and huff in annoyance. “…yes.”

“Fine, I’m literally only coming to make sure Tuk is safe.”

“I’ll take it. Let’s go, gang!!”

You had to admit it felt really good to be out, to just run on the huge vines that connected the Hallelujah mountains to the ground and to each other. It felt like a blessing to be able to still enjoy these views, these moments with your siblings, even amidst the chaos that was erupting everywhere around you. You went like this for ages, and even though you knew you should have gone back, knew Lo’ak was again pushing his luck and the safety of everyone here, you couldn’t find it in you to stop him. You wanted this, you craved the warmth and safety the forest gave you, your forever home, your forever first love. Even the thought of returning back to camp in a couple hours made you sad. So you decided to focus on the now, and just enjoy the time you’ve got.

It was close to eclipse when you decided to make your way back. The kids were not allowed past curfew, and you didn’t want to risk it, especially with Tuk around. You were disappointed, but not surprised when Lo’ak stopped in his tracks and moved away from your path to inspect something he found on the ground.

“What is it?” Kiri said, in an exasperated tone, and you found yourself mirroring her sentiments.

You saw Lo’ak and Spider hovering over a patch on the ground and you decided to go investigate.

“We’re always supposed to be home by eclipse.” You heard Tuk join in.

Your mouth dropped at the sight in front of you. Shoe prints, made by boots that couldn’t be worn by any human. You recognised the pattern of the sole, as you have seen it before among clothes worn by the RDA soldiers. Military combat boots. Your heart was thumping in your chest at the only possible explanation. You started looking around you, and you felt the all-too-familiar dread building in your stomach, greeting you like an old friend. You barely registered the words that Spider and Lo’ak were exchanging.

“It’s way too big for a human.”

“Avatars?”

“Maybe, but for sure not ours.”

You saw Lo’ak move towards where the footprints were headed, and you tried to will your legs to move, to stop them, tried to will yourself to speak, but you couldn’t find the words, just dread. Just pure fear at every possible scenario that could take place, your mind computing all your worst nightmares and displaying them to you like on an outdoor cinema screen. Eventually, you started moving your legs and made your way in front of Lo’ak, positioning your body, now just as strong and tall as his, in front of him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m tracking.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” You were trying so hard to keep your voice down, but it was hard to do when you felt rage replacing the anxiety and spilling over all around you.

“Angel, we have to see who it is. Whoever it is will never find us, this is our territory. We have to bring back the intel, and what are we going to say when dad asks us what did we see? We need to find out more.”

“Lo’ak, we are not prepared for this. I don’t have my gun, or a radio, or my bow. I have a knife. I’m not putting Kiri and Tuk in danger. We can go back and we can track tomorrow and figure it out. We know they’re Avatars. What you don’t know is that they’re military.”

You saw his face drop. “Yeah, that’s right. Those boots? They were worn by the RDA soldiers that murdered so many of our people. They’re larger now, but the imprint on them is the same. They fucking brought Avatar soldiers here this time. This is fucking serious. We have to go.”

He thought about it for a while. You hoped that he would listen, you hoped that he would abide by what you talked about only a few hours ago.

“We will be careful. We will keep our distance. Let’s just see what they’re doing, at least.”

You growled at him loudly, but said nothing, and the shock overtook your body when you realised that you were following him. You tried to tell your body to move, to take Kiri and Tuk and leave, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him or Spider, couldn’t bear the thought of them getting hurt and you not being there to help. Fuck, you owed Neteyam an apology.

You followed the tracks for a while, until you found them, and you kept your distance in the bushes and observed quietly. You could see six people in the clearing where 19 years ago, Jake and Neytiri defeated Quaritch, Spider’s dad. It was a forbidden place, cursed by dark, ominous energy that will plague this land for many years to come. The people were clearly Avatars, dressed in camo outfits, carrying so much weaponry it was making your knees shake. Every cell in your body was begging you to move, begging you to run, but you couldn’t, not until Lo’ak the rest of them were safely behind you. So you waited, trying to gather as much information as you could. The Avatars were searching the hub for any sign of recent life, and they took particular interest in exo-suit that you know belonged to Quaritch. In it, there were 2 arrows that you recognised as Neytiri’s, the emerald green feathers a dead giveaway. You never knew exactly how Spider’s dad died, and neither did he, so you wondered what feelings were plaguing him watching this unfold.

“We are never supposed to be here.” Kiri says, in a forceful tone. “Dad is going to ground you…”

“Shh, Kiri.” Lo’ak said exasperatedly, talking over his sister. “…for life.”

“Bro, we have got to check this out.”

You put your arm in front of the two boys. “Absolutely not. This is as far as we go. Call this in, now. I don’t have my radio.”

“No, bro, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You gave Spider a death stare, at his seemingly unending recklessness.

“Call it in, now. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

“You sound like dad.”

Neteyam’s mood has been in a rapid decline over the last few days. He hasn’t seen you since that night, clear to him you were doing anything in your power to avoid him. Instead of thinking of the potential demise of your relationship and how that put his fucking heart through the meat grinder, he instead decided to bury himself in work and training, and try to spend some time with his parents that he very rarely seemed to talk to anymore outside of war-talk. His childhood was long gone, he realises - where he was just a kid, surrounded by so much love it was almost suffocating, full of laughter and joy, full of his dad’s Earth stories and his mum’s impressions, full of hope and light. His parents were now soldiers, generals, commanders, and he was just a subordinate, a corporal trying to help out in the best way he knew how. There were definitely perks to being an adult, and Neteyam could list just about all of them staring in between your legs, but there were times, such as now, that he wishes his parents would be his parents again, and he could just be a little kid again, spoiled, cherished and unencumbered by life’s tragedies.

The three of them were high in the Hallelujah mountains, returning from a full day of scouting and tracking, when Lo’ak’s voice through the radio interrupted his train of thought.

“Devil Dog, Devil Dog, this is Eagle Eye, over.”

“Eagle Eye, send your traffic.”

“I got eyes on some guys. They look like Avatars, but they’re in full camo and carrying ARs. There’s six of them, over.”

“What’s your post?”

“Um... We’re at the old shack.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Spider, Kiri…Quickscope…and Tuk.”

Neteyam’s knees felt like they were buckling underneath him. He was dizzy, and he felt Seze’s flight becoming unsteady as his mind was collapsing into a puddle of mush. Lo’ak… Spider… Kiri… Tuk… and you. His whole world. He could lose everything in a second. What the fuck were all of you doing in the forest? Why the fuck were all of you in the one place that was strictly forbidden? If it was Lo’ak and Spider he could maybe understand the stupidity, but you? The thought that you went along with this, with Tuk next to you boiled his blood - it was easier to be angry than to admit how immeasurably scared he actually was.

“Son, you listen to me very carefully. Pull back right now, do not make a sound, and get the hell out of there. Move. Copy?”

“Yes, sir, moving out.”

Neteyam’s entire body was lit up with pure adrenaline, coursing through his veins like ice water, sharpening his senses. He had to save you. All of you. He had to do something.

“Dad. I know a quick way.” He didn’t stop to see if his parents were following, but he heard his mother letting out a war cry behind him, so he assumed they were. He had to save you. He couldn’t lose you again.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.” You heard Kiri whispering to her brother.

“Kiri, stop. This is not the time.” You heard yourself say. You were gonna kill Lo’ak yourself, but right now, you just had to focus on getting out of here. Getting them out of here.

You saw Tuk run ahead and you wanted to tell her to slow down, but she spoke before you. “It’s almost eclipse, come on!!”

Out from the bushes came Avatars, so many of them they outnumbered you at least 2 to 1. A woman grabbed Tuk, holding her tightly and you hissed aggressively and pulled out your knife from its sheath, but you knew immediately it would do very little against so many military people carrying fucking machine guns that were pointed at your face, and worse, at the faces of the people you loved.

You heard the Avatars screaming at you, telling you all to put down your weapons, and you did, knowing there was no other choice. This wasn’t a battle you could win, this wasn’t even a battle you could start. You saw Lo’ak throw his bow on the ground, but Spider was unrelenting.

“Drop it. Drop it.” Lo’ak warned Spider in Na’vi, and you thanked your lucky star that he was being at least a tiny bit reasonable.

You were pulled forcefully by someone tugging you by your hair and pinning your arms together, holding them tightly, mirroring what was happening to your siblings around you. Tuk was crying, and your heart tugged at the sound, desperate to help her, a deep maternal instinct rising within you, and you felt rage and adrenaline fill your body.

A few more Avatars made their way to the group. One of them looked a little older, and by the way all the others shifted towards him subconsciously, you reckoned he was the leader. Two men were following him closely, and a profound, unsettling feeling overcame you. They looked…familiar. The first one was bald. The second one had wavy hair and looked slightly different than all the others. He looked…dignified. Like he didn’t quite belong. Like his clothes were unbecoming on his body. You somehow felt you knew this man, and when you looked next to him at the first guy and his tattoo, at the girl holding Kiri… when you looked closely at all of them, your body jerked violently and your mouth fell agape.

It couldn’t be… no…

Quaritch. Weinfleet. Pike.

…Your dad…

You didn’t understand what you were feeling at the moment, a mix that you have never experienced before, but at the forefront was gaping confusion and horror, shock and fear, and deep within you, maybe even a little bit of excitement. Could that actually be your dad? How is that possible? You buried his bones, you saw Weinfleet’s skeleton in the forest, you just saw Quaritch’s at the Shack. How could this be?

You saw Weinfleet stalk towards you and he took a hold of your hand and forcefully brought it up. “Colonel, check it out. Four fingers. We’ve got a half-breed.”

They thought you were Na’vi. Good. They realised you were born with Avatar blood, so you were most likely Jake’s. That made you valuable to them. Bad. The man behind you was pulling on your queue to lift your chin up so Quaritch can look at you properly. They were pulling on your arm and you felt pain all over, that was overshadowed by so many other emotions flooding your being. He inspected you shortly, and then moved on to Kiri and Lo’ak.

“Show me your fingers.” Lo’ak brought both his hands up and flipped him off. You would laugh if your body could still produce any ounce of serotonin.

You saw Quaritch smile crudely, eyeing Lo’ak up and down. “You’re his, aren’t you?” He continued smiling as Lo’ak hissed at him and took him by his hair, pulling him towards his eye level.

“Where is he?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak English…with assholes.”

“Where is your father?” His accent was thick, and he butchered the words and pronunciation, but there was no mistaking what he wanted. Jake. So this is what it was all about. Even after 19 years, the RDA was willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars in order to eliminate the Olo’eyktan. It was a good investment, you thought, considering there was only so much the humans can do with Jake in the picture. You wondered what they were willing to do to get to him. Would they kill you off, one by one? Would your dad kill you to get to Jake?

Lo’ak said nothing, only hissing in pain when the man kept tugging at his queue aggressively. You heard wails all around you coming from Kiri and Tuk, but you were focused on only one thing. Figuring out an escape route. You knew Neytiri and Jake were on their way, since Lo’ak alerted them to your location. It was only a matter of time before they arrived. Eclipse was also only about 10 more minutes away, so you would have the cover of darkness soon, which was an advantage to you, but not to them. Lucky for you, they tied your hands in front of you, which means you could still use them. You probed the strength of the hand ties, and realised quickly you weren’t getting out of them without a knife. The man holding you was keeping you close to his body. You recoiled in disgust, but tried to shimmy your body into him to feel for any possible things you could use. He was wearing an army vest. You felt grenades and ammo poking you in the back. You moved subtly a bit more, making it seem like the position was just uncomfortable, and felt a military knife holder in your lower back. Bingo.

Quaritch took out a knife, and threatened Lo’ak with it, but soon moved along the line to Kiri. There was screaming coming from all the boys, but Spider’s voice broke through and Quaritch turned around to face him. It must be a weird sight to see, a human amongst the Na’vi, clearly young enough to have been raised here. You wondered if Spider connected the dots, if he figured out who the man standing if front of him was. You gave silent thanks to your mum and the scientists for the Avatar again.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Spider… Socorro.”

Quaritch’s face changed, the sly smirk faltered and his expression was shocked, when it dawned on him the kid standing in front of him was his son.

Neteyam and his parents landed as eclipse set in, enveloping the nature in bioluminescent glow. It would be beautiful if he wasn’t on the edge of losing his goddamn mind. He grabbed his bow and patted Seze before he made his way towards the shack. His dad turned around and put a hand in front of him. Neteyam’s nose flared at the words he knew were coming.

“No, no. You stay with the ikran.”

“No.”

“Neteyam…” his mother was trying to defuse the situation the best way she knew how.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

“You are not leaving me behind. I am older than mum was when the Sky People attacked the first time. My mate is out there. My brothers and sisters. I am coming.”

Neteyam saw his dad looking at him intently, thinking about it for a while. Eventually, he relents and nods curtly.

“You stay behind, do you read me, boy? Your mother and I will go first, so they think it’s just two of us. You stand and attack from behind when the opportunity arises.”

Neteyam agreed, although still disappointed. It was better than nothing.

“Let’s go.”

After splitting from his parents, Neteyam made his way quietly through the forest to a high point by which he could spot you and his siblings. He gasped silently and he could feel his heart in his throat, making him pant in shallow breaths, that were leaving him dizzy and disoriented. So many Avatars, all in military clothing, all carrying heavy guns, all holding at knifepoint the people he loved most in the world. He saw you and his breath stopped altogether, wet hair and a concerned, but focused expression on your face. Your eyes were scanning all of them, scanning the forest, it’s almost like you could tell they were here, that he was here.

From far away, he heard his mum’s signature distress signal echoing through the forest. It was inconspicuous enough that to the undiscerning ears it probably sounded like a bird or a forest animal, but Neteyam saw all of your ears perk and your heads snapping in the direction it came from. Neteyam knew you were all trained for this, trained for emergency situations, and he felt a tug of gratitude for his father’s military ways that will most likely save their lives tonight.

The unmistakable sound of Neytiri’s call brought relief that washed over you like the raindrops falling from the sky. You knew then the kids will be alright. You looked at Lo’ak and you nodded almost imperceptibly in the direction of the guy at your 12 o’clock who was facing you both and had a smoke bomb clearly displayed on his vest. He looked at it and nodded back, and you knew he understood. You got this.

With a loud thud that declared the beginning of the rescue mission, the man holding both Kiri and Spider was knocked to the ground, a green arrow sticking out of his forehead. The man holding you pushed you aside to get his gun, and without a second thought, you removed the knife from his holder and slit his throat. The blood went all over you, on your face and torso, but you didn’t care.

“LO’AK!” You screamed, and the boy released the pin from the smoke bomb, enveloping the whole area in green smoke.

You stabbed another man in the neck at the same time Lo’ak and Tuk bit the people holding them, and ran for the woods. Good.

You managed to run as well, trying to dodge the barrage of gunshots being released all around you, but you felt someone harshly pulling you backwards by your queue. You cried out, as pain dispersed from your spine all around you body, but the pull stopped when the woman who grabbed you got an arrow on the side of her head that came out the other side. The shot came from a different angle, and you knew that was Neteyam. You ran as soon as you were released, making sure to take the machine gun she was carrying in her hand before you sprinted to a tree that could provide cover.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and poked your head out so you could shoot whoever was still alive. You realised from the angle you were at, you had a perfect shot…that would kill your dad. Was this man even your dad? Would sparing his life for your own twisted desperation for answers and closure cost your new family theirs? Your finger went to the trigger, putting slight pressure on it. Just a little more pressure, and it would be over. Tears welled in your eyes and with a silent curse and gasped breaths, you lowered your gun and got back undercover.

“Is that you, Mrs. Sully? I recognise your calling card.”

“Why don’t you come on out, Mrs. Sully? You and I, we’ve got some…unfinished business.”

You saw the kids running in the distance, and you felt so much safer, so much gratitude in knowing they were going to be okay. That’s all that mattered in this moment, that Tuk, and Kiri, and Lo’ak and Spider make it back home in one piece.

“DEMON! I will kill you as many times as I have to.” Neytiri’s voice sent shivers down your spine, so much hatred, so much intensity behind it.

“Guess you and the corporal got pretty busy, haven’t you? Got yourself a whole litter of half-breeds.”

You saw the reflection of the gun in the corner of your eye before you had a chance to process it, and you heard a man scream “Na’vi!”, followed by the unmistakable sound of shots being fired where you stood. You saw the bullets like in slow motion, and you knew then you were done for. You were just happy everyone else was going to make it. You were happy Neteyam was going to make it. You closed your eyes in anticipation of the pain, but the pain you expected never came. Instead, you were pushed to the ground and another type of pain, the pain the came with scratches all over your body and the wind getting knocked out you, brought you back to reality and you registered Neteyam’s unmistakable pheromones flooding your entire being.

“MOVE! GO, GO, GO!” He helped you to your feet and you both ran as fast as your feet could possibly carry you. You made it to a tree where you found Jake, and his presence calmed your thoughts and focused them - that was the effect he had on people, this great man and leader that you knew you would follow anywhere without question.

He touched you arm and spoke to both of you.

“Are you okay?” You and Neteyam nodded quickly.

“You ready? You ready?!” You saw him get out of cover and shoot, and you both sprinted for the hills, manoeuvring your way through thick shrubbery and tree roots, knowing that you wouldn’t have been able to do this even a few months ago, this level of athleticism and acrobatics that came naturally only to true Na’vi.

You heard a big explosion behind you and you saw part of a big web of roots get destroyed as a result, and Spider falling a few meters beneath it. You and Neteyam were preparing to run back, but Jake stopped you, placing a firm hand in front of your bodies. You saw Neytiri picking Kiri up forcefully and running with her towards your direction, as the girl was looking back to where Spider was.

Lo’ak and Tuk made it to your location as well, and you saw Jake kneel next to Tuk and hold her tightly in his arms as she cried, the weight of all you have all survived settling in all your bones. You hugged Neytiri like you never have before as you both cried, letting it all out, all the relief and fear and shock and happiness that you all made it out alive.

“THANK YOU, GREAT MOTHER! THANK YOU!”

Lo’ak’s voice echoed through the forest. “Where’s Spider?”

You looked at your sister, whose eyes looked like endless pools of sadness. “They took him! They took him!”

There were no words spoken as you all made your way back to camp. There were no words for what just happened. The adrenaline slowly depleted its resources in Neteyam’s body, leaving him in shambles, scrambling to figure out where to go from here. What were the next steps? Your back was flush against his chest, and the feeling of your skin on his, of your warmth emanating from your body, of your hand wrapped around his arm was the only thing that kept him from breaking down into a million pieces. You were here, his siblings were here. His thoughts flashed to Spider, and he knew he couldn’t think about it too much without tears welling in his eyes. He wasn’t close to Spider, definitely not nearly as close as the rest of his siblings, but he was family. Seze landed softly on the ground by the entrance to the camp. It was late, so most people were out for the night. You didn’t let go of him, not for one second, and he was so happy to see you again, so happy to feel you again, so sad it had to be under these circumstances. His family slowly made their way to the tent, but Neteyam felt you pull him back, urging him to let them go ahead without you.

He saw you properly for the first time since the whole ordeal. You had mud all over you, but that was nothing compared to the blood covering your entire face and chest. Tears were falling down your cheeks and neck, and his hands immediately found your face, just as his lips found yours. It was soft in the beginning, tentative, like a flower blooming in the morning. But as you came to terms with everything that transpired, everything you went through, everything you could have lost, it shifted, it became desperate and needy, full of breathy moans and wandering hands. He almost lost you.. again.

“Let’s go, please. I can’t be here.” Without any words, you got on Neyn and flew to your secret place. Neteyam’s hand was settled on your heart, that was thumping loudly, mirroring his own. You arrived quickly, the cave only a short distance away.

You ran, without looking at Neteyam and dove straight into the lake, not knowing for sure whether you wanted to reemerge, craving the numbness that came with drowning, craving it like the air that your was body was begging for. You felt the ripples in the water as Neteyam joined you, and when he touched you, your whole body lit ablaze, and the craving changed, as it always did when he was around. You missed him, so so much, and your fight and your need for space felt so silly now, so unnecessary in light of everything that you stood to lose at any moment. Any moment not spent in his presence, in his arms was wasted time, time you didn’t have.

You came up for air, panting from your need for him settled deep within you, so that he could fill the gaping hole that just opened in your soul. He looked at your intensely, and you knew he felt the same, so you kissed him, pouring all your desires into it, feeling him do same to you.

“I need you so badly, Atan. I have missed you so much.”

“Then take me, Neteyam. I’m yours.”

You exited the water and lead him to the mossy grass outside of the cave, where the nature was shining brightly and the wind warmed your skin. You pushed him onto the ground, and straddled him, looking deep in his eyes as you took off your beaded top and unhooked his cummerbund from around his abdomen. He rose from where he was laying on the ground and started planting kisses down your neck and collarbone, making his way down. You moaned at the feeling, and threw your head back, giving him access to you, begging silently for him to never stop. HIs mouth found one of your breasts that he kissed, softly in the beginning before his tongue flickered over your nipple. You started grinding on him, cursing yourself for not removing both your loincloths before. His mouth moved to your other breast, whilst his hands went on to undo your loincloth, that he removed from you and threw to the side. He stopped to undo his own, and you thanked the great mother for whatever unspoken connection you two have always shared.

“I need to feel you, my love. All of you.” His hand went to his queue that he brought forth, and you were so grateful at the sight, aching for the union that will always bind you together, for life.

You gasped loudly at the bond, overwhelmed with the outpouring of emotions emanating from Neteyam. So much pain, and fear and sadness, and so much love, and relief and gratitude all inundating your mind and soul, all making you breathless and dizzy. You both looked in each other’s eyes, both overcome with each other’s minds, both desperately in need of each other’s bodies.

One of his hands resumed his slow torture on your breast while the other wrapped around your throat, until the asphyxiation lead to euphoria you felt deep between your legs, slick dripping all over Neteyam’s hard-on that you were grinding against. His hands let go and the rush of oxygen to your brain made you moan in pleasure, and increase the speed at which you were getting yourself off on his cock. His mouth was all over you, leaving marks that you knew would be seen by everyone in the village tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less. The whole world could burn around you at this point and you wouldn’t care, because there was nothing else. Nothing outside of this, of him, of this feeling.

His hands went to your ass, pushing you deeper on him, urging you to go faster, helping you to your release.

“Fuck, I love it when you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You moaned loudly at his words, feeling your orgasm building up in your core. “That’s right. Come for me, baby girl.”

You threw your head back and rode out your orgasm with his hands on your ass still moving your now puffy and sensitive clit roughly on him.

“You are so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

Dazed, you felt yourself being picked up and placed on the ground, your back loving the feel of the wet grass touching your skin. His face was inches from yours, and he lowered it to kiss you, and it was so unlike everything else around you, so tender and soft, so needy and gentle.

“I love you so much. I am so happy you are here.” You cried out and brought him back onto you, kissing him like your life depended on it, which to be honest, you think it did. You felt his dick twitching against your inner thigh and moaned, desperate to feel him deep in your, desperate to be filled.

“Fuck, please.”

He smiles into the kiss, and reached down to line his cock to your folds, teasing your entrance mercilessly.

“Neteyam…” you mewled, not in the mood to be teased, not tonight.

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he pushed in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth, that always took you by surprise, that always stretched you out deliciously. He moaned as he filled you fully, and stopped to enjoy the way you squeezed him, the way you took him in like you wouldn’t ever let him go, your pussy the only prison he wouldn’t mind being held prisoner in forever.

“Fuck, Atan. You’re taking me so well, baby. Always so well, I could get lost in this pussy.”

You were so wet your slick was dripping all over him and down his balls, making it so easy for him to move in an out of you, at a slow, agonising pace. Your hands made their way to his back, hard and muscular, and you dug your nails in it roughly, scratching him as he increased his pace, fucking into you roughly and ruthlessly, making of you a whimpering mess. Your legs wrapped around him to grant him better access, to bring him in deeper, always deeper, until he was hitting a spot you could feel in your whole body, inundating your every cell, your every sense.

“I can feel you squeezing my dick, Atan. I want to hear you coming on my cock, I want to feel you taking my cum like a good girl.”

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike, overcharging your every nerve ending until you were so drained you could only see white, and you felt Neteyam’s load fill you to the brim, overflowing around you. Blissfully spent, his head fell on the crook of your neck, and you stood like that, listening to each other’s heartbeats and shallow breaths.

You laughed quietly thinking this was probably the most tame sex of your life, and how even when you were trying to be tempered and soft, you ended up like this, moaning and mewling like your life depended on it. This is what he did to you, what he’ll always be able to coax out of you.

“It’s good to hear you laugh again. So I take it you forgive me?” He rolled from on top of you, and pulled you on from the ground so you can be face to face, as he intently listened to every sound that came out of your mouth. Your queues were still attached, so you could feel the anxiety building in his system. You hoped your lack thereof would put his mind to ease a little.

“Mm, I don’t know if I forgive you, but I have realised something. Actually, I realised two things. First, today, walking through the forest with the kids, I realised that you were right. There’s no other choice, but to follow them to the ends of the world and hope you can at least help them not fall off the edge. And if you have to fall instead, that’s fine as long as they are safe. So I think I owe you an apology.

Secondly, I realised I can’t change who you are, and I don’t want to. I love you. I love how kind and patient and compassionate you are. I love that you love your family, your baby brother so much that his safety comes first in your mind. You love fully, and give everything to the people you love, and that is what makes you a great brother and a great son…a great mate. It’s what will make you the best Olo’eyktan this clan has ever seen… it’s what will make you the best dad. So I can’t change that about you.

But what I can do is make sure I will always be around. I’ll always be next to you, and behind you and in front of you, and I’ll always have your back. So if anything like that ever happens again, I will protect you. And if I can’t protect you, I will heal you. I will stitch your wounds, and mend your broken bones, because putting pieces back together is what I do best, anyway. I won’t have to be scared anymore, cause I’ll just always be there for you. Deal?”

“Deal.” He said as he kissed you tenderly, and you felt the salty taste of his tears on your lips.

You made your way back a couple of hours later, and were shocked to discover the Sullys were still awake. You silently stepped towards the tent where Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk were hiding, listening in to their parents’ shouted conversation.Kiri motioned for you to come and brought her hand to her lips, urging you to be quiet.

“This thing, this Quaritch, whatever he is, is going to walk right into here, right under Eywa’s nose.”

“I cannot, you cannot ask this. I cannot leave my people. I will not.”

“He’s hunting us, he’s targeting out family.”

“You cannot ask this!” Neytiri was furious, her screams loud and forlorn.“The children, everything they’ve ever known, the forest! THIS IS OUR HOME!”

“He had our children. He had them under his knife.” Jake’s voice was hoarse and pleading, hushed tones hiding the deep hopelessness echoed in his words.

“My father gave me this bow as he lay dying, and he said ‘Protect the people’. You’re Toruk Makto!”

“This will protect the people!”Jake’s voice was raised now, no longer poised, no longer holding back. “Quaritch has Spider, and that kid knows EVERYTHING! He knows our whole operation. He could bring them right in here.”

You felt annoyed at how quick Jake was to assume Spider would betray this family, the only family he’s ever known. Spider was a loud mouth, and he was just as reckless as Lo’ak, but he had a good heart. A strong heart. He is loyal and loves the Sullys and this clan more than he loves his own life, and you thought Jake knew that.

“If the people harbour us, they will die. Do you understand?”

“Look, I’ve got nothing. I’ve got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do. And I do know one thing. Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

So many thoughts engulfed your mind, so many emotions flooded your being, one more extreme and agonising than the next, but almost like a joke brought about by the universe, the only thing that rang supreme was the realisation the Tiongli was going to get to be Tsa’hik after all.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky

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loveesiren · 10 months

Text

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 2)

Disclaimer: I absolutely fucking hate this chapter but atleast it gives some background I guess. I'm sorry I made ya'll wait three weeks 😭 Also, I'm using the Sturniolo's as characters, in no way shape or form am I trying to convey that this is who they actually are.

Synopsis: Y/n finds out her best friends might not actually be the friends she thinks.

Warnings: Language, attempted SA (not from the triplets), scars, heroin use, police

Word Count: 2.7k+

I made my way down the dimly lit street. I was freezing and pissed off and high out of my mind off whatever my asshole date had given me. I met some loser named Marcus on Instagram and met him in downtown Boston to hangout. We took some pills and drove around but when I wouldn’t put out, he kicked me to the curb.

So here I was, walking in the ghetto streets of Boston at 2am. No sixteen year old should be out here in this area, especially at this hour, but I thought I was invincible. My only mistake was not charging my phone before I left. The only person who knew where I was was Alahna. Everyone else assumed I was spending the night at Alahna’s and I made her swear not to tell anyone. My parents would ground me for the rest of my life and Chris, well, Chris just worried. A lot. He was my best friend after all.

I clutched my purse close to my body, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone that was out at this hour. I noticed what looked like a gas station a couple blocks ahead so I picked up the pace, hoping they would have a place I could charge my phone or atleast a phone I could use to call a taxi.

I heard whistling nearby and I froze. “Well good evenin’, darlin’!” A man shouted out and I prayed to God he wasn’t talking to me. I continued walking, quicker now but it wasn’t long before I heard footsteps catching up with me. Two large men surrounded me and I froze once again. “Don’t ya know it’s rude to ignore a man when he’s talkin’ to ya’?”

His southern accent was thick and they both smelled of cheap booze and cigarettes. “What do you want?” I ask nervously, cowering under their dark stares.

“You look a little too nice to be from around these parts. Where ya off to at this hour? Maybe me and my friend here could help ya out,” the man smirked. “For a small fee, of course.”

“If it’s money you want, just take it!” I yelled, thrusting my purse at the man and trying to push past him but his goon was quick to grab me. “Let me go!”

“Oh I don’t think so, Princess. We wanna have some fun.” The men let out a haunting laughter and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I should have just fucked that stupid boy. I should have just stayed home.

I began thrashing around as hard as I could, desperately trying to squirm my way out of the mans’ tightening grip. “HELP!” I screamed out. “PLEASE! HELP!”

Before I could get another word out a blunt object struck me across my head and I collapsed to the ground in a dizzy heap. I tried to feel where I’d been hit but my vision was blurred. I could feel a wetness running down the side of my face and landing on the concrete below. I let out an agonizing scream before consciousness completely escaped me.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n?” A familiar voice repeating my name in the darkness.

“Chris?” I attempted. I couldn’t feel my lips.

“Y/n, wake up!”

I opened my eyes and drew in a sharp breath, realizing quickly that my lungs were desperate for air. I clutched my chest as I fought to catch my breath.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Just breathe.” Chris’s soothing voice was like music to my ears

“Fuck, what happened?” I ask after finally steadying my breathing.

“You were screaming in your sleep.” Chris said. “Did you have the nightmare again?”

I sighed, remembering that God awful night. “Yeah, I think so…” I touched the scar on my head. It was almost three inches long, sitting partially on my forehead but most of it was covered by my hair thankfully. I looked over at Chris, he was looking down, twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip. He hated remembering that night. But I owed my life to him.

I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around him. I felt him let out a sigh of relief as he snaked his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. I know how much anxiety he got about my safety after finding me like he did.

What I didn’t know that night was how amazing my friends truly were. Alahna had been tracking my phone the whole night to make sure I was safe and when she realized I was no longer moving by vehicle and instead walking in some sketchy part of downtown Boston, she immediately called Chris and his brothers. Alahna tracked my phone all the way up until it died and then Matt drove up and down the streets of the area I was in. When Chris saw the two guys picking up my limp, bleeding body in an attempt to get me out of my dress, he jumped from his brothers’ moving vehicle without warning to save me. Luckily he had back up. Matt drove up onto the sidewalk towards the men, scaring them off.

I mean, I don’t remember any of this since I was bleeding out and unconscious. But it’s the story I’ve been told. I do faintly remember Chris’s panicked voice calling out my name. I tried desperately to respond to him but I’m not sure if any words made it past my lips.

Since then Chris has definitely been a little overprotective. But I can’t blame him. I’m grateful to him. To Matt, Nick, and Alahna too. If it wasn’t for them I would’ve been raped and most likely dead. Unfortunately, the men who did it were never caught. I tried my best to give a description but the drugs mixed with fear and partial memory loss from my head injury wasn’t enough information for the cops to find them. So the second I turned eighteen and graduated highschool, I was ready to pick up my life and move across the country. Luckily, Chris, Matt, and Nick were blowing up on Youtube and agreed that Los Angeles would be a great place to further their career. So we all left to start a new life.

“I love you.” I told Chris.

“I love you too, Y/n. Are you feeling okay? You were pretty drunk last night.”

I pulled back to look at him with a guilty smirk. “Yeah…sorry about that..”

He gave me a warm smile. “No biggie.”

I looked down at his hand that was now resting on my knee, noticing it was wrapped in a blood soaked bandage. “Fuck Chris! What happened to your hand?!”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He said, attempting to hide his hand.

I could feel the frown forming on my face. “It was my fault…wasn’t it?”

“No! No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is. It always is.” I said, climbing off of him and off the bed entirely. “I always do something to fuck up and worry you and you can’t just let me ruin your fun all the time, Chris!”

“What do you mean? You didn’t ruin anything.” He said, standing up to meet me.

I worked on changing out of Chris’s clothes and into some of my own I had laying around his room. “I just…I just can’t have you worrying about me all the time. When we go out I want you to have fun, let loose, meet girls…” the words tasted bitter on my tongue. Chris almost winced at the sound of them. “I don’t need you to spend all your time and energy taking care of me, okay?”

Chris grinded his jaw, visibly frustrated. “You know I can’t just not do that, Y/n.”

“But why not, Chris?”

“Because you almost died!” His voice was angry now. No, not angry. Hurt. Scared. I could see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I-I just can’t let that happen again. I’ll never forgive myself for letting it happen in the first place.”

“Chris…” My heart broke. How could he ever think that was his fault? “You didn’t let anything happen. I was the one who snuck out and didn’t tell anyone. I was a stupid kid and I learned a hard lesson. None of it was ever your fault.”

“But-”

“No buts!” I interrupted him. “It wasn’t your fault. Period. And I owe you my life for saving me that night. But you don’t need to waste yours looking after me. It was seven years ago. We’re adults now. We deserve to be happy and have fun, yeah?”

Chris nodded hesitantly. I could tell he didn’t want to but I hated the idea of him spending all his time focused on my safety and missing out on experiences that could make him truly happy.

“Good. Let’s go get some grub.” I say, offering him a soft smile. He attempts to smile back but the sadness remains in his eyes.

Chris followed me upstairs to the kitchen. “Morning boys!” I greet Matt and Nick.

“How the hell are you so chipper?” Matt asks. “You were absolutely faced last night!”

“She got it all out of her system in our front yard.” Nick chimed in, giving me a fake smile.

“Yeah…sorry about that…” I say, scratching my head.

“Your dress is good as new too, Princess.” Matt adds, motioning to your gold dress hanging from the door to the laundry.

I cringed at the Princess. But decided to ignore it.

“You guys are the bestttt!” I whine, giving them both timid hugs in hopes they’ll forgive me.

“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Nick says, hugging me back. “Here, eat up. We’re going to another party tonight.”

I sit down and nibble on some of the bacon Nick had made.

Chris sat down beside me, quieter than usual but his brothers don’t seem to notice as they go about their morning banter.

The knock on the door surprised us all. The four of us rarely got up before noon. Why we were today is beyond me but our friends wouldn’t have shown up at this hour either.

We all looked at eachother with confusion before Nick went downstairs to open the door. I heard a brief back and forth but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. Nick made his way back up the stairs and two cops followed him. My stomach dropped.

I stood up out of my seat, instinctively putting myself in front of Chris. “Christopher Sturniolo?” The larger officer said.

“Yeah?” Chris asked, stepping out from behind me. Nick, Matt and I all held our breath.

“You’re under arrest for the assault and battery of a Mr. Cameron Jacobs.”

“What?!” My voice came out as a squeak. “Assault and battery?! It wasn’t Chris! You’re mistaken.”

“Christopher Sturniolo. The Youtuber? We’re well aware of who he is.” The cop said. Chris stepped forward and the second cop pulled out his handcuffs. I couldn’t believe Chris was just submitting to this. “There have been videos uploaded among various social media platforms of the assault.”

I was at a loss for words. Chris and I had been in trouble before but never charged with something like this.

“Well, we can just bail him out right?” Matt asked.

“Bond won’t be set until Monday morning after he sees the judge. Until then, he will remain in custody.”

I watched as Chris put his hands behind his back. Still in his wife beater and pajama pants he wore to bed. He bit his lip and looked at me with remorseful eyes but remained quiet. I could feel tears welling up in my own eyes. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” He hummed into my neck, unable to hug me back. “I love you.” He mumbled before the piece of shit cop pulled him away from me.

The other cop handed Nick his card and I watched as they manhandled Chris down the stairs and out the door. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. My best friend was just ripped away from me in a matter of minutes and I felt so lost, like a part of me was missing.

I palmed my face, wiping the tears away from my eyes before I fished for my phone in my pocket. I opened Instagram and searched Chris Sturniolo. The video from last night was all that came up. I clicked on the first one and watched it. I saw myself leaning on Madi’s shoulder in the background, unaware of the events taking place. I saw Chris snapping and wailing on the dude I almost went home with.

A sob escaped my lips. I was so grateful to Chris for getting me out of that situation but it landed him in jail. If I wasn’t such a mess he wouldn’t fucking be there…

“Okay, so I have some money saved up. I think first thing Monday morning we should-”

“Y/n enough!” Matt yelled. I stopped talking and looked at him with confusion.

“What do you mean? We have to get him out…”

“Yeah! We-” He said, motioning to himself and Nick. “do need to get him out. We need to call our parents. We need to figure out a plan.”

“Matt…” Nick started.

“No! I’m sick of all the shit she drags Chris into!” Matt said before taking a few steps towards me. “All you do is cause him problems. Put him in situations he doesn’t want to be in because he feels like he has to take care of you. You’re the reason Chris did drugs. You’re the reason Chris snuck out. You’re the reason Chris fucked up! He would be so much better off without you! And now look what you’ve done?! He’s in fucking jail cuz you wanted to be a slut!”

I slapped Matt hard across the face. I didn’t mean to. It was just a reaction. He took a deep breath, as did I. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes staring daggers into mine. “Get out.” He said.

I bit back tears and turned on my heel, running down the steps and out the front door to my car. As soon as I was locked inside my car a screamed at the top of my lungs. Letting every single emotion out. I thought they were my friends. I grew up with them. They were like brothers to me. If Matt and Nick felt this way then Chris probably did too. I’ve overstayed my welcome in their lives…

I started my car and sped off down the street. I drove the ten minutes to my apartment complex. It was nowhere near as nice as the Triplets but it worked for me.

I made my way up the stairs, ready to drown myself in a bottle of vodka and rot on my couch but I ran into Danny on my way up.

“Princessss,” He dragged on. “What’s got you so upset?”

That fucking nickname made my blood boil.

“Fuck off, Danny.” I said, walking past him.

“The Sturniolo kid again?” He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette. I swallowed. Just thinking of Chris made me sick. “Ya know those pretty boys will always break your heart, honey.”

“You’re a loser, Danny.” I said before heading up the steps once again.

“I have some product! If you’re interested!”

I paused again. I swore to Chris I’d never use hard shit again. But did Chris really care? With the way his brothers treated me today, it couldn’t have come from nowhere. I grew up with them and rarely had an issue. But if his brothers hated me that much then maybe Chris did too…

It doesn’t take a whole army to convince an addict to go back. The war you fight is in your mind and when you have no soldiers on your side, joining the enemy may be the best choice.

So here I sit, with a needle full of heroin pumped into my bloodstream, feeling the best I’ve felt in years.

Chris who?

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