#the one thing i ask for. the Only Thing i ask for. and i’m told no and not given an actual reason why.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, my favourite Lando Norris writer. Can I request something with Lando where Reader has a son from a previous toxic relationship and Lando thinks she's like hiding something from, like cheating but she confess everything and Lando becomes the dad that stepped up. 🫶

miracle family (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - neglected child, tears, comfort

Lando sat at his dining table, staring at his phone. It had been a few days since he last saw Y/N, and though they’d spoken, something felt… off. She’d been distant, always rushing through their calls, making excuses to cut their time short. He told himself he was imagining it, that she was just busy, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let it go.

He thought back to their last date. They had planned to spend the entire evening together, but halfway through dinner, Y/N had gotten a call. She stepped outside to take it, her expression unreadable, but when she returned, her mood had shifted. Her usual brightness had dulled, and she seemed distracted for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Lando, just some work stuff," she had said with a quick smile when he asked about the call. He didn’t press further, not wanting to seem pushy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Then there were the texts. Every time they were together, Y/N seemed to be checking her phone, typing quickly before locking the screen and setting it aside. She never let him see who she was messaging, and when he casually asked if everything was okay, she’d brush it off.

"Yeah, all good. Just a friend going through something," she had said once, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

But the real moment that had started gnawing at him happened the previous weekend. Lando had invited Y/N to one of his races, excited to have her there with him. She’d always been supportive, her energy infectious, but this time, she’d been oddly quiet. When he asked if everything was alright, she just smiled tightly and said she was tired. But after the race, instead of joining him for drinks with the team, she had left abruptly.

"I’ve got to go, Lando. Something’s come up. I’ll explain later, okay?" Her voice had been apologetic, but her eyes… something about them seemed conflicted, like there was something she wasn’t telling him.

He didn’t know why, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else. Was she hiding something from him? Maybe she was seeing someone behind his back, someone she wasn’t ready to tell him about. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her directly.

Instead, Lando had chosen to observe, watching her carefully over the next few weeks. The phone calls, the quick glances at her screen, the random moments of detachment—it all added up. But every time he was about to say something, the words got stuck in his throat. What if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t cheating, and he was just overthinking everything?

Yet the doubts remained. He found himself scrolling through their old texts late at night, trying to pinpoint when the change had started. He remembered how things used to be—how open and carefree Y/N had been with him. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, one she wasn’t letting him break through.

And then, there was that one time she came over to his apartment, looking tired and worn out. She had barely spoken, her eyes heavy with something she wouldn’t share. He had asked her if she wanted to talk, but she had only shaken her head.

"I’m fine, Lando. Just a lot going on."

"Is it work?" he had asked, gently pushing, hoping to understand what was weighing her down.

"It’s… complicated," she had murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Lando hadn’t said anything more that night, but the silence between them had been louder than any words could have been. He had held her close, but even then, she had felt far away.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind spinning with unanswered questions, Lando couldn’t help but wonder: was Y/N hiding something from him? Or was it something bigger—something she was afraid to tell him?

Either way, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal. Not when it felt like he was losing her, piece by piece.

time skip

Lando strolled through the supermarket aisles, humming softly to himself as he checked items off his shopping list. It was a rare day off, and he decided to take care of some errands. He rounded the corner into the cereal aisle when a small, energetic blur collided with his legs.

"Oh, sorry!" Lando exclaimed, looking down to see a young boy, probably around five years old, grinning up at him.

"It's okay, mister!" the boy chirped. "I was just trying to find the cereal with the marshmallows. Do you know where it is?"

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to the boy's level. "I think it’s a couple of shelves down. What's your name, buddy?"

"I'm Ethan!" the boy said proudly. "What's yours?"

"Lando. Nice to meet you, Ethan," Lando replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement. "Like the race car driver?"

Lando laughed. "Exactly like the race car driver."

Ethan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow! My mummy loves race cars! She watches them all the time."

Lando smiled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "Your mum has good taste. Speaking of which, where is she? Shouldn't she be keeping an eye on you?"

Ethan pointed towards the end of the aisle. "She's over there! Mummy! Mummy!"

Lando turned his head in the direction Ethan was pointing, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Y/N standing at the end of the aisle, a look of shock and surprise on her face. She quickly made her way over, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions.

"Lan?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, uh baby," Lando replied, equally stunned. "I didn't know… I mean, Ethan is your…?"

Y/N nodded, kneeling down to scoop Ethan into her arms. "Yeah, ummm this is my son, Ethan."

Ethan beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mummy, this is Lando! He's the race car driver!"

Y/N managed a weak smile. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you go pick out the cereal you wanted?"

Ethan nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Lando and Y/N standing there, an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" Lando asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lando stood frozen, Y/N’s words echoing in his mind.

“I have a son.”

The bustling supermarket seemed to fade into the background, the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of shopping carts drowned out by the weight of her confession. Y/N stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the shopping basket, her eyes wide and filled with fear, as though she was bracing herself for his reaction.

Lando blinked, trying to process the information. “You… you have a son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip, and that was when her composure began to crack. Her eyes welled up, her breath hitching in her chest as the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress finally surfaced. "Lando, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared you’d leave if you knew. I’ve been hiding it, and I’m so sorry. I—"

Her words choked off as tears streamed down her face. She dropped the basket, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, right there in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it because I don’t trust you, it’s just… Ethan is my whole life. His father was—he was awful, and I didn’t know how to protect us. I’m so sorry, Lando, I should’ve told you sooner—”

But before she could finish, Lando was there, dropping everything as he closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest as her body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Lando whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm so sorry," she cried, her words muffled against him. "I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared."

Lando tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking the back of her head. "You’re not losing me. You could never lose me."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I get it. I get why you were scared. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You and Ethan—you’re part of my life now. I want to be here for both of you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "You really mean that?"

Lando nodded, his voice steady and full of conviction. "I do. I love you, and if Ethan’s a part of your life, then he’s a part of mine too."

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from relief, from the overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. "Lando… I don’t even know what to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly as her breathing slowly steadied, her sobs turning into soft sniffles.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet chaos of the supermarket, Lando knew that nothing else mattered. Not the people passing by, not the curious glances from other shoppers. All that mattered was Y/N and the promise he had made—to be there for her, to be there for Ethan, no matter what.

And as he held her, he realized that this was what love was about. Not just the good moments, but the hard ones too—the moments where you drop everything to be there for the person you love, no questions asked.

At that moment, Ethan came running back with a box of cereal, his face glowing with excitement. "I found it, Mummy! Look!"

Y/N and Lando both laughed, the tension dissipating as they turned their attention to the enthusiastic boy.

"Great choice, Ethan," Lando said, giving him a high-five. "How about we go check out and then grab some ice cream?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"

As they made their way to the checkout, Lando glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and commitment. He knew that their journey together wouldn't always be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Y/N, for Ethan, and for the family they were about to become.

--- extra scene p.s.a - abusive partner ----

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, Ethan ran ahead to the playground, his laughter filling the air. Lando and Y/N watched him for a moment, their hands intertwined as they sat on a nearby bench.

"He's really something," Lando said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on Ethan. "He is. He's my whole world."

Lando glanced at her, squeezing her hand gently. "Y/N, can we take a walk? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Sure, Lando."

They stood up and began to walk along the path that circled the playground, the sounds of children playing fading into the background.

"Y/N," Lando began hesitantly, "I want to understand more about Ethan's father. About what you went through. But only if you're ready to talk about it."

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Lando's. "It's… it's not easy to talk about. But you deserve to know."

She paused, collecting her thoughts as they walked. "Ethan's father, Mark, was… he was charming at first. But it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He was controlling, manipulative, and it only got worse over time."

Lando's grip on her hand tightened in silent support as she continued. "He would get angry over the smallest things, and his anger… it was terrifying. He hurt me, Lando. Physically, emotionally. I stayed because I thought I could change him, that things would get better. But they never did."

Y/N's voice broke, and she wiped away a tear that had escaped. "When I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't let him grow up in that environment. I was scared, but I knew it was the right thing to do."

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her. "Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you. You're so strong."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't feel strong, Lando. I felt broken and alone. But I had to protect Ethan. I had to give him a chance at a better life."

Lando pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You did the right thing. And you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'll be here for both of you. Always."

Y/N sobbed against his chest, the weight of her past finally lifting as she felt the warmth of his love and support. "Thank you, Lando. Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. And I love Ethan. We'll make this work, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. When they finally pulled back, Lando gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Let's go back to Ethan," he said softly. "He's probably wondering where we went."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, let's go."

As they walked back to the playground, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Lando by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

[bpmiranda]

It Could Be III |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: boxer!logan, 18+ f!reader, sweet!reader, angst, smut, oral f! receiving, unprotected sex

It Could Be It Could Be II

“You want to break up?”

The conversation was unavoidable. It was eating at her that she couldn’t stop thinking about Logan. The guilt that sat on her chest grew heavier and heavier every time she said ‘I love you’ to Adam when she was no longer sure if she believed it. “I just think-we aren’t-um-I mean, are you happy?” She asked, looking at him with concern-filled wide eyes while Adam only looked confused.

“Of course I am.” He said with a chuckle.

Y/N chewed her lip nervously. “Are you happy with me?” She asked, her eyes falling onto her lap as the reminder of his infidelities swarmed her mind. Adam held onto her hand which was sitting in her lap and she looked up at him.

“I love you, sweet pea. I can’t imagine my life without you.” His other hand caressed her cheek and he was about to lean in for a kiss when she stopped him, gently placing her fingers over his chin, and he frowned.

“What if I can?” She asked in a soft voice.

Adam’s eyes reflected the hurt he was feeling and he pulled away from her. They stared at each other for a moment and he gave a deep exhale as he small smile curled his lips. “I can’t change your mind?” He asked and she slowly shook her head, closing her eyes as a small tear slipped down her cheek.

“I wish it could’ve been us, but I just don’t feel the way I used to, Adam.” She explained and he nodded in an understanding manner.

“Is it Logan?” He asked suddenly and her eyes went a little wide. Adam chuckled and he shrugged lightly. “He’s always had a thing for you, the way he calls you ‘baby’ and always seems to be around. He’s a good guy.” Adam said, a defeated look on his face.

Her eyes scanned his face for any signs of anger and she didn’t see any. “Nothing’s happened between him and I.” She told him, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to reassure him.

Adam only smirked. “I know, sweet pea, you’re not like me.”

They hugged and Adam left her apartment. Her heart felt less blocked up, there was no longer a feeling of grief constantly weighing on her. Logan came to her mind and she quickly picked up her phone, her thumb hovered over the ‘call’ icon for a moment before she pushed it and held the phone to her ear. Each ring felt like it lasted an eternity until she finally heard his voice on the other of the line. “Hey baby,” His voice was so deep and comforting, her heart skipped a beat when he called her ‘baby’. “What’s going on?”

“Could I come over? I just-” Her mind was spinning as she tried to find her words, but she didn’t need to, Logan knew her so well.

“I’ll come to you. Be there in fifteen.” He told her and she smiled to herself.

“See you then.” She said before hanging up.

When Logan showed up, he had two cups of coffee in his hand and she felt her belly bloat with butterflies as he smiled at her. “Caramel latte, right?”He said as he handed her a cup and she nodded with a smile while he came into her apartment. Logan figured she and Adam had another fight, he figured she needed to talk to a friend, and he would always be available to her. He wasn’t expecting this, however.

“I broke up with Adam.” She said suddenly and he looked at her after he had set his coffee down with hers on the kitchen table. Her eyes were searching his face for a reaction other than the surprised look he was currently wearing and then a small smile broke his stunned demeanor.

“Yeah?” He asked, his hands itching to grab her. Y/N nodded slowly, looking up wide eyed at him. “How are you feeling?” He asked, shoving one hand in his pocket and scratching the back of his neck with the other as he restrained himself.

Her eyes fell on the ground and she shrugged, tugging at the sleeves of her loose cardigan. “You were right,” She looked back up at him, an embarrassed heat spreading across her face. “I’m not happy with him.” Logan gave her a small nod and she continued. “I don’t mean to make you feel responsible for this and you definitely shouldn’t think you influenced my decision. I’m not expecting anything from you nor do I believe you owe-” Her rambling was suddenly cut off by Logan grabbing her around the waist with one arm and bringing her lips to his with his other hand. Her body molded into his as he held her tightly, so close to him that she swore she could feel his heart beating against her chest. Her hands clasped around his neck as they kissed. Logan’s lips were soft and gentle though his body language felt restrained and she slowly slid a hand down onto his chest over his heart.

“Let me be responsible.” Logan murmured against her lips before pulling away and looking down at her with that trademark loving look that was always in his eyes when they were together. His thumb lightly brushed over her cheek and his soft green eyes searched hers, studied every feature of her face. “I want to be the reason. I want to be your choice.” Y/N looked away from him shyly and he gently turned her cheek so she’d face him again. “I want to be whatever you need, baby.”

Her lips tentatively found his again and he sighed into her mouth, his arm tightening around her waist as he guided her towards the bedroom. Her fingers were undoing the buttons on his flannel and he slowly pushed her cardigan down, his large hands leaving goosebumps along her arms as he tossed the sweater. Without breaking the kiss yet, he guided her to lay down on her bed and he hovered over her, settling between her thighs. An involuntary moan left her lips as the bulge in his pants pressed into her and she covered her mouth with her hand only for Logan to gently move it. “Sorry.” She breathed out.

“Don’t be. I want to hear you.” Logan told her as he lifted her black camisole up below her breasts so he could kiss her belly and her hips. Her body trembled underneath his touch and she sighed his name. “Can I?” He asked, fingers hooked underneath her bunched up tank top and she nodded, raising her arms so he could pull it off and his eyes fell on her exposed body. Her face grew hot again as she fought the instinct to cover herself and Logan’s tongue peeked out to moisten his lips. “Jesus, your ex is an idiot.” He said and she laughed, the sound brought a grin to his face and he dipped his head down to kiss her once more before he kissed her chest and her collarbones, licking softly on her breasts and circling her nipples with his tongue.

“Logan,” She moaned, her fingers laced through his thick hair as he dragged his mouth down her body, leaving kisses and licks behind. After giving her time to stop him, he tugged her leggings down and he kissed her thighs, squeezed at them, bit gently on the soft insides of them until she was trembling with anticipation. “Fuck.” She whined.

Logan slowly pulled her lace panties down and he groaned at the smell of her arousal, saw the leak from her slit and he gently spread it around her folds and her clit with his thumb. His eyes shifted from her pussy to her face as he watched the reaction he had on her while she whined and called his name like a prayer. “Baby,” He called her, her dazed eyes opened and locked on his face. “Be mine?” He asked and she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her lips as this man, touching her and having already undressed her, was asking her to be his girlfriend.

“I already am yours, Lo.” She told him, smiling at him as he grinned. “I’m so happy with you.”

With that, Logan buried his face in her wet cunt, lapping gingerly at her slit, sucking at her clit, spreading her juices around with his thumb as she moaned and mewled for him, her back arched against the bed while her legs trembled warningly. “So fucking pretty.” He murmured as he watched her drip due to her pending orgasm, her core was pulsing and begging to be stuffed. “Come here, princess.” Logan stopped before she could cum, he removed his clothes to sit against her headboard, and she climbed onto his lap with his help. “I love you.” He said, looking up at her pretty face and fixing her hair for her as it had become frizzy from writhing on the bed. “I’ve always loved you.”

Y/N smiled down at him, biting her lip before kissing him softly. “I love you, Logan.” She said against his lips, caressing his bearded jaw as they made out. “More than I’ve loved anyone.”

His cock throbbed underneath her and she gasped softly, aware of his length and girth as he was pressed into her folds. “Want to take it slow?” He asked, his tip rubbing at her opening while he kissed her jaw gently.

“I trust you.” She whispered, her arms wrapped securely around his shoulders and Logan guided her down onto his shaft. “Oh, Logan.” She moaned as he stretched her out, stuffed her full, and sat heavy inside her.

Logan growled into her neck, holding her tightly around the waist as he took a moment to enjoy this feeling. The feeling of them so close and connected, his lips peppered kisses across her chest and neck, anywhere he could reach while she lightly scratched at his scalp, sighing and gasping with every pulse and twitch from his cock. “Feels so good.” He breathed out, taking the chance to admire her on his lap like this, observing the way he speared through her, and how she leaked onto his shaft. “Feels right.” He said, looking back up at her and she nodded, her brows upturned as she began rocking her hips against him. She needed to feel more, needed to know how it felt to completely belong to a man, to be the only one. “I can’t hold back, sweetheart. I gotta-gotta fuck you.”

“Fuck me.” She whispered.

Logan held onto her waist as he began easily moving her up and down on his shaft, groaning as he watched how her pussy would sink down on him repeatedly, taking every inch of him while she clawed at his shoulders and begged for him. “All mine, you’re all mine, baby.” He grunted, watching her breasts and her face as she bounced on his cock. Her heavy head nodded weakly in agreement and he smirked. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. I can’t get enough, need you all the goddamn time.”

“I’m yours, always, I’m just yours.” She moaned, feeling that familiar tension grow in her abdomen. Her fingernails dug deeply into his shoulders and Logan growled her core tightened around his throbbing shaft. “I’m-you’re gonna-oh!” Her body shook violently and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist again so he could bury his face in her neck as he also reached his release. His load filled her already stuffed full pussy and she mewled loudly, pawing at him, pulling him close as he pinned her down onto his lap so every drop was released deep inside. The territorial side of Logan simply needed to know he was in her, that he had planted his seed even if it didn’t take right now.

“All mine?” Logan asked after they had calmed down and she was no longer trembling.

Y/N smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. “If that didn’t tell you,” Logan laughed and kissed her cheek softly as he rubbed on her legs. “Yes, Logan. I’m all yours.”

“About time.” He teased which made her laugh and she lightly swatted at his chest. Logan looked at her, smiling as he watched her become shy again under his stare even though she was sitting with him still inside her. A small sigh left his lips and he glanced at hers. “I’d wait even longer for you if I needed to, baby.” He whispered before kissing her.

Their coffee grew cold in the kitchen, forgotten as there were more pressing matters that required their attention tonight.

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @needz1nk @sad0ni0n @samsamsantos

[papaya-twinks]

Lando finds out that his girlfriend was dared to date him to try to change his fuckboy ways and he’s super hurt but happy ending

Warnings: angst

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“So…” your friends Emily said, a small smile on her face as she looked to you, “one month anniversary going well?”. You nodded, a warm smile on your face as you sat opposite to the girl, her eyes trained on you. “Didn’t expect the dare to last that long,” Emily snickered. 

“Didn’t think it’d even work to begin with,” you said with a somewhat wistful smile. “Thought he wouldn’t fall for it?” Emily asked, “I didn’t expect it to work. I thought it was just to change his fuckboys ways and stuff,”. 

Unknown to the pair of you, Lando had returned from his dinner with Max earlier than predicted, a whole hour earlier, as he stood behind the door, listening to it all. It had been…a dare?

The girl he’d fallen in love with had only done it for a dare. Coz she thought he was just a fuck boy? Great. “Well, great,” Emily said with a smile, waving to you as she left the house, leaving you alone, or what you thought was alone. 

“Just a dare?” a voice said behind you, making you jump a bit as you turned to see Lando behind you. “I…Lando, how long were you there?” you asked, your eyes wide as you locked eyes with Lando, the hurt in his eyes almost hurting you. 

“Long enough,” he said, his gaze falling downcast, “I’m just a dare, Y/N? Really? Just a little thing for you to mess around with for a few months?”. God, this was so shit for your anniversary. 

“I’m…sorry,” you said, a sigh on your lips as Lando shrugged.  “Do you even love me?” he asked, as you immediately stood up. “Lando! Of course I do…I didn’t think I would love you but I did end up actually liking you,”. 

You could see how hurt Lando was, his eyes downcast and full of sadness. “Lando…” you stepped forwards to reach for his hand, onto for him to step back, your hand falling to your wide. “Please, Lando,” you sighed. 

“I really love you, I really, really do, I shouldn’t have done that and I should’ve told you,” you said as Lando finally let you take his hand in your own. “Please, Lando, I love you,” you said, genuine worry in your eyes. 

“Fine,” Lando said after a few seconds, “just…we’ll take it slow,”.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

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

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, “san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[grusinskayas]

Greta Garbo, born Greta Gustafsson 119 years ago on September 18th ❤️

When Greta was born, [her father] Karl’s employer offered to adopt her to ease their poverty. Anna [her mother] refused. If God sent us a child, she said, he will provide bread. […]

What can be concluded about Garbo’s childhood? Was it a joyful time, as she played sports, produced plays, and led the neighborhood gang in mischief? Was it gloomy, filled with violence? Cecil Beaton asked her those questions and recorded her answers: “She talked about her youth and how unhappy she was. I interjected: But you’ve always told me you were such a tomboy and had so much fun leading the other children into mischief. She replied: ‘Cecil Beaton, how can you say such things! There are 365 days in the year!’” Garbo’s reply to Beaton’s question sounds like Garbo at her humorous best, using irony to avoid a direct answer. She probably found her childhood both happy and harrowing; both these reactions colored her later life. But its traumas never left her. She couldn’t stand quarreling, and she trained herself to remain calm when disagreements arose. There was also her terrible fear of strangers, not only in crowds but also in intimate settings. As she aged, books with violence in them frightened her. She always felt as though she was running away from someone or something. These aspects of her character sound like holdovers from a violent experience as a child. Yet, she could be playful and jokey, childlike and joyful. And she could take problems in stride. When a group of fans mobbed her after the opening of Camille in 1936, she wrote to her mentor and close friend Salka Viertel, “I guess I can’t complain. After all, I’m just a circus lady.” She included in the letter a picture she had drawn of herself as a tightrope walker, with a parasol in one hand.

Ideal Beauty: the Life and Times of Greta Garbo by Lois W. Banner

[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[kurishiri]

alfons v.s. ring . . . ring schwartz epilogue 💍

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: suggestive undertones.

Kate: If it’s come to this... then let’s do it! I mean, pretending to do naughty things!

Ring: Y-yeah, I do know that’s our only choice here, but... there’s no way I could do it.

R: Um, those kinds of things... I’ve never actually done them before!

R: But... s-since you’re really cute... I’m sure you have plenty of experience and whatnot...!

Kate: W-what do you mean, ‘plenty,’ there’s no way I have that much experience! Anyway, forget about that, we need to do something about this...

K: Ring, you go shake and push on the bed to make it creak!

K: And I’ll listen in on the other room and make sounds to match!

Ring: ...That seems more doable.

Ring went atop the bed and started to jump on it.

The bed did start creaking, to be sure, but it also was making some jarring noises that made me think the bed was really about to break down.

Kate: Could you be a bit more gentle though, Ring? It’s too much...!

Ring: Oh, umm, then... how about this!?

He briskly stepped off the bed before he put both hands on the bed and started to push down.

By doing so, he could create a good creaking sound that didn’t go too far.

Woman’s voice: The bed from the room next door has started creaking.

Man’s voice: In that case, they’re probably just a pair of lovebirds. Guess we were worrying ourselves over nothing.

Woman’s voice: ...That said, don’t you think it’s strange that there’s not a peep from the other side?

(Oh, that’s right! I have to make noise too.)

Kate: Ah, ahh... ahhn...

Ring: H-hey, um. I can’t say I’ve heard others doing you-know-what before, so I may be wrong, but...

R: When women do, you know, the deed, do they really sound this monotone...?

Kate: I mean, we’re not actually doing it, so that makes it harder...

Woman’s voice: The panting from the room next door sounds a bit strange, wouldn’t you say?

Man’s voice: It sounds real flat...

(First Ring, and now the two in the next room over are doubting me too...! At times like these, then...!)

Kate: I-I’m really, really sorry! I’ve been told by a lot of partners that my panting sounds suuuper flat!

At this point, I decided to play into the role of ‘a woman whose pants sound flat’ as I raised my voice.

Ring: N-no matter how you are, I won’t mind at aaalll!

While continuing to push down on the bed, Ring returned a fitting line in response.

...Very monotonously, may I add, for the both of us.

Woman’s voice: ...Huh, I guess they really are just one odd couple.

Man’s voice: I mean, seeing as they’re using a room of a strange manor like this, that would be a given, probably.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness, it seems they’ve bought the act...! Let’s keep this up then!

Ring: Alright... but, sorry, I’m a bit hot, so I’ll take my jacket off.

Seeing as the bed is hard, having to push down hard enough to make sounds continuously must have taken a considerable amount of stamina.

With that, Ring casually took off his top layer and put it aside.

(...)

Maybe because of the way his clothes fit his body so well, his well-trained muscles were brought to the surface.

The sweat that came from shaking the bed moved traced the back of his neck, making him quite sexy.

Ring: ...Kate? Is there something wrong?

Kate: N-no, not at all! It’s nothing——

Taken aback at having become more conscious of Ring, my legs buckled suddenly,

and, preparing for the impact, I closed my eyes then and there.

Kate: ...!

(Hm? Wait, it doesn’t hurt...?)

Ring: Are you okay?

When I slowly opened my eyes, there Ring was, nearby, as he asked with a touch of worry in his voice.

(So Ring is the one who saved me and stopped the fall...)

Our bodies were touching, and I could feel his body was a bit warmer than mine, and he gave off a pleasant, earthy scent.

(Even though he’s holding me in his arms, he seems completely unperturbed... his appearance hardly betrays the fact he must be training regularly.)

(...Wait, what in the world are you looking at, Kate!?)

Kate: T-thank you for saving me. I’ll let go now.

Ring: ...Wait.

Kate: Huh...

When his earnest voice stopped me stiff, Ring’s hand gently slid to my cheek.

(W-what the...!?)

Ring: Your face is all red. Did you hit it somewhere?

(Oh... so he was worried for me.)

Kate: N-no, I didn’t. I’m fine.

Ring: But...

Kate: It’s just... we’re so close together that I’m a bit nervous... is all...

Ring showed no sign of pulling away himself, so I opted to give him an honest answer then. And when I did, Ring also turned red, as though it had moved over from me to him.

Ring: I-I see... then, umm, I’m glad if you’re okay.

R: Sorry for keeping you like that. ...And should we continue then? What we were doing before, I mean.

After that, we continued our act of panting and shaking the bed until we exited the room.

Ring looked exhausted as we exited the room, and there was Alfons, waiting out in the hallway.

Alfons: Thank you for your hard work. Now then, were you able to listen in for what we needed?

Kate: Yes, all of it and everything...

Alfons: My word, is that a hoarse voice I hear? And not only that...

A: I see Ring has stripped his outer layer off and is positively sweaty as well.

A: Would it be safe to assume... you two have gone aaall the way, by any chance?

Ring & Kate: “No!” “Absolutely not!”

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

END NOTES: this story was so silly and makes me smile whenever i read it, haha. ring seems to be the most popular of the vogel trio, seeing he has gotten a dark mafia design, and it’s not hard to see why. his charm is in his innocence, and it’s like a breath of fresh air in this game, and i hope i could capture it too.

i’m overall curious about all the vogel members and feel this story event is a strong debut for all three. thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed! i’d love to hear your thoughts as well ♡

full masterlist 🪞💍

[ghouldump]

To Be Loved | Armand x Reader

ෆ idolized and worshipped by your coven members, alive but not living, things quickly change for you when you move to Paris, and meet your soulmate.

requested via private messages, this was so cute, no manipulative gremlin armand.

What is Love? A feeling of deep admiration or likeness? Patience, kindness, unconditional forgiveness? It was hard to tell. The emotion had become so distant from you, a faint memory from half of a millennial ago. Love required trust, and you couldn't bring yourself to trust another.

“My lord, the sun has departed for the night,” Demetrius said, making you look up from your lap. Everyone kneeled before you, their heads down.

“You may go and hunt,” you dismissed them, closing your eyes. You could feel their stares lingering, hesitating, as they stood up, leaving you alone in the dungeon.

“How long will you starve yourself? At least feed on the rodents, you look like death,” hearing her voice, feeling her closeness, but refusing to face her, to acknowledge the concerned expression.

“Good, then I’m one step closer to dying for good,” you sighed.

“Y/n, don't be stupid, go drink, it is an order from your maker,” she ordered, making you open your eyes.

“Leave me,” you screamed, facing her, but she was gone.

Cassia, the reason you were here today, the last person you trusted. You were from a wealthy family, and your father, and his father, both swordsmiths, valued, oftentimes working alongside kings and their soldiers.

While he was never home, your mother was too immersed in raising your younger siblings to focus on you, nevertheless, you were loved. On birthdays and traditional holidays, you'd receive amazing gifts of all kinds, praised and advised on everything, you couldn't have asked for a better life. It wasn't until the mysterious young woman, Cassia moved close by, that your life changed.

You had been out later than usual, on your way home from a friend’s house, when you saw her. She stood outside of her house, reaching for the apples on the tree.

“Hey, could you lend me a hand, I can't reach these,” she called out, stopping you, just as you passed her short fence.

“I really need to get home,” you said, apologetically.

“It will only take a moment, please, come,” she said, watching as you awkwardly entered the gate. You didn't understand how she thought you could help when there wasn't a big difference in your height.

Jumping a few times, you managed to knock the apples out of the tree. Picking them up, you placed them in her basket, turning to leave, but she stopped you.

“Bring them in,” she told you, already walking into the house. Glancing down the road at your house, you picked up the basket, and you entered the home. It was much brighter than outside with all of the candles, neatly arranged.

“You can sit them on the table,” she said, turning to face you. Your eyes widened for a moment, she was one the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her skin was perfect, smooth with a few small moles, full lips, doll eyes, and glossy soft hair.

“Thank you,” she told you.

“You're welcome,” you said, turning to leave.

“How old are you? I heard your family a few weeks back, celebrating a birthday,” she said.

“Eighteen”

“And you aren't betrothed?” she asked, as she moved closer.

“No, my father will begin looking for arrangements later this year,” you explained.

“Good, whoever has you, will be lucky, you have a heart of gold,” she said, her hand going to your cheek. She was moving closer, making you uncomfortable, an eerie grin on her lips.

“Go, it is getting late, but come back tomorrow night,” she continued.

There was something intriguingly bizarre about the woman because despite how weird she seemed, the next night you found yourself, fidgeting with your fingers, in front of her door, contemplating if you wanted to knock. Just as you raised your hand, the door opened.

“Come in,” she smiled, moving out of the way.

“I don't believe I got your name, yesterday night,” she continued.

“Y/n,” you held out your hand.

“Cassia,” she raised an eyebrow, taking your hand into her own.

Awkwardly staring at your hands, while she gazed at you, she continued caressing her thumb against your skin. Clearing your throat, you took your hand away.

“What did you need?”

“I have a gift, for your generosity,” she said.

“No need, it was nothing-

“I insist, please, sit,” she pointed to the table. Gulping, you went to sit down, something peculiar about her tone sent a chill down your spine.

“I hope you like apples, I made pastries, it has been a long time since I’ve made anything like these, but I know they are delicious,” she smiled, setting the tray in front of you. The slice of fresh apple pie, along with cookies.

“Thank you, this really was unnecessary,” you shook your head, breaking a piece of the cookie.

“You were the first and only to help me, it is obvious that you have been chosen,” she told you, watching as you ate the cookie.

“Do you like it?” she asked, smirking as you nodded. Chewing, you began to cough a little, repeatedly clearing your throat, and staring into the cookie. Standing up, you made your way to the door, stumbling, Cassia slowly behind you, catching you, as you fell unconscious.

Waking up, you struggled to move, opening your eyes, confused to see Cassia, straddling your lap, placing a variety of ointments and oils onto your body.

“W-what is going on?”

“I am preparing your body for your death,” she told you before she started humming.

“My what? Release me,” you wiggled, stopping as her hand went to your throat.

“You have been chosen, do not ruin this,” she snapped.

“Cassia, please, what are you talking about?”

“Those who must be kept were cursed, damned to eternity on earth, and to live off of blood, but the creator showed them mercy, bestowing soulmates. A companionship stronger than any other, the perfect partner, meant only for those with the dark gift. My soulmate, Elias, was weak, he chose the sun, he chose death over me. I’ve prayed and prayed, and I asked for another soulmate, and you have come along, helping me and I have to turn you to ensure we have each other forever,” she said, your eyes widened in fear, shaking your head.

“You're mistaken-

“I haven't been more certain,” she told you, her fingers brushing over your lips before she bared her fangs.

“To us, and an eternity of our love,” she said, sinking her fangs into your neck draining the life from out of you.

Turning you, within a single night, you had lost everything. Your family, friends, life, everyone sensed how different you became. How you suddenly left home and would only be seen with the strange woman. The same exterior, but a different entity possessing the body they once knew. The new social discrimination you experienced didn't help, being shunned for your not-so-obvious relationship with Cassia.

She was a lonely soul and out of your kindness, she convinced herself you were her second chance at love. She would later explain how it felt when you would come across your soulmate. How you would love them no matter who they were, their shade, or where they were from. She didn't realize it until turning you, but she had been wrong, there was no second chance. She would've let you go, to find your way with the dark gift, but she couldn't.

After the side effects wore off, the way you looked at her, your maker, brought butterflies. She knew it was only the gift, bringing on the newfound lust, but she gave in anyway. It was nothing more than sex for you but after centuries of celibacy, it felt like lovemaking to Cassia. On the living room floor, until morning came, then reality came down on you. Pulling away, a hint of disgust in your eyes, she knew then. Running outside, you only made it past her fence, before you fell to your knees, screaming in agony.

“Cassia,” you cried out, confused why this was happening.

Wearing a cloak, she grabbed a blanket and rushed out to save you, carrying you back into the house. From that point, even if you weren't hers, she loved you and felt a need to take care of you. After a few decades together, you eventually accepted her, but she knew it was only a matter of time before you came across your soulmate. That is why, a century into your companionship, she finally surrendered to the sun, leaving everything to you.

The last person to love you had left you alone. Her wealth and dark gifts, she passed, but you were utterly alone. You became a vagabond, you had no one to keep you settled in one place. You attempted to surrender a few times, but Cassia’s spirit wouldn't seem to leave you alone, talking you out of it every time. You formed a bitterness towards her, she claimed to love you, yet she brought you into this lonesome life, just to leave you.

Eventually, you found yourself in Rome, Cassia’s homeland. She and her soulmate were both turned and met here. You acted as if you hated her, but found yourself in the very place she was born. Buying a large home in the countryside, you were satisfied with the large dungeon in the home.

Not long went by, before your encounter with the local vampires. They came to you on a night you stood near a cliff, trying to pray. You had been trying for so long, you didnt have an end solution. For God to make your life less lonely, to bring your soulmate, to help you finally end your life, you were sure he wasn't listening, but it helped pass the time.

As they surrounded you, you didn't bother facing them, maybe they could kill you, but then Cassia came, telling you to show them your power. You had inherited all of the gifts and were much older than them. Begrudgingly, you turned to them, flying above them, watching as they quickly submitted to you. Then, one of them pointed out that you were praying, perhaps you were their saint, a mediator for the damned to god himself.

You denied their claims, but they didn't listen, asking to reside with you, which was the beginning of your coven. Eight young vampires, you grew closest to Demetrius, Jonah, and Marianne. Three centuries came and went and they all remained devout. Even though, for the last few years, you would be off and on starving yourself for weeks at a time.

“My lord?”

“Yes, Demetrius?” you answered, slowly turning to look at him. On his knees, his head bowed, he held a box.

“For you, you shouldn't starve yourself like this,” he said, as you took the box, surprised to see the trapped rats inside.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing one of the rodents, and biting into it.

“The others are too afraid to mention this, and asked me to bring it up with you,” he said, nervously.

“Well, out with it,” you told him.

“We want to leave Rome, a few locals have gotten suspicious, and the talk has made its way to the city. We could easily kill them, but it would cause too much attention, so we think it is best to leave,” he said.

“Stand up,” you told him. You found it so bothersome having all of them bowing and crawling at your feet.

“The others are aware that they are able to leave this coven, I will not stop any of you,” you told him, as he stood in front of you.

“Yes, but we want you to come, Marianne thinks we will be safe in Paris, but we want you to join us,” he said.

“Go with them, Rome no longer serves you any purpose, you only await death here,” Cassia told you, as you stared at Demetrius.

“How soon did everyone expect to leave?”

“As soon as possible”

“Then we will leave for Paris, and you all can come out from hiding,” you said, watching as your coven members slowly revealed themselves.

“Thank heavens, there is one more thing, Demetrius hasn't told you, my lord,” Jonah said, making you face him.

“And what is that?”

“We have hopes of blending in with society”

“Very well-

“I think they mean everyone”

“I mean everyone, and with the utmost respect, you will also have to adjust, or you will look out of place, Marianne can take care of your wardrobe,” he said nervously, glancing at her.

“Tell them yes,” Cassia said excitedly.

“If these are the plans, you all will need to prepare, as soon as possible,” you said, watching as everyone’s faces lit up, dropping to their knees, they worshipped you.

“This is good, you need the change, you can finally take steps towards living your life,” Cassia told you, as you lowered your head.

Hopefully. How long would your life continue like this? The vain worship, as if you were their god. You couldn't remember the last time someone looked into your eyes and saw you as an equal. Maybe Paris could change the agonizing lifestyle you felt trapped in.

“I hope I haven't overdone myself, my lord,” Marianne said, her head down, following you into the large castle-style home.

“It is perfect, I can't remember the last time I saw coffins this nice,” Cassia clapped, walking next to you.

“You have done well, everything is pleasant,” you told her, patting her head as she thanked you profusely.

“Amazing, we have our own coffins?” Alexander, one of the younger, newer members of the coven exclaimed. He was also Marianne’s soulmate.

“Yes, I apologize for my negligence as a coven leader over the years, in the dungeon, I felt no need for coffins, being that it was dark, but coffins are much more comfortable than the cold floor,” you told him, you didn't realize until after speaking, everyone stared at you with such admiration in their eyes.

“We chose you as our leader, and we accept any conditions, as long we can stay with you, although we are very thankful for the upgrade,” Jonah told you, everyone agreeing.

“Enough of the praise, there are still a few hours left in the night, go hunt, and travel together, until you are familiar with your surroundings,” you waved them off.

“You're not coming?”

“Perhaps another time, go on,” you told them, turning away, and going to your room.

It had only been a few hours since arriving in Paris, at the large house. Demetrius took care of finding the place, while Marianne furnished it, before your arrival. You couldn't lie, you felt uncomfortable, your usually unruly appearance had been completely changed, replaced by fitted trousers and a soft turtleneck.

You refused to be walking around in the strange dresses of the age and preferred androgynous pieces of clothing.

“Will you hunt tomorrow?”

“Cassia, why is it that even in death, you force yourself into my life, I am not yours,” you told her sternly.

“You are my fledgling, my blood flows within you, I can not leave you to die, not when you have so much potential and when you haven't given yourself a chance to find your soulmate, even in death, I love you more than myself”

“Then why did you leave? All you wanted was for me to love you, and when I did, you left,” you faced her, pointing accusingly.

“I made a mistake turning you, out of my own selfishness you were created. I couldn't keep you, and deny you the vampire meant to be yours. You can hate me, but I knew what was best, and trust me when I say, that coming to Paris was for the best, what’s yours is soon to come, sooner than you think,” she said, vanishing.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and Cassia never spoke to you. It was refreshing, not having her in your ear. Other than the praise and worship, Paris seemed like the change you needed. No one encountered any other vampires, and they all were beginning to blend, amongst the mortals, as they originally wanted.

“My lord, please help,” Marianne burst into your room. You were levitating, attempting to pray, but opened your eyes.

“What is it?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the blood smeared all over her face.

“Alexander is in trouble; he wandered off while we were hunting and came across a few other vampires, they followed him here and they're much stronger than the others, please do something,” she said, her voice filled with urgency. Nodding, you let your feet touch the ground, before following her.

Just as the door opened, you could see the vampires surrounding your coven, taunting them. Lifting from the ground, with only a flick of your finger, fire sparked around them, making them confusing look around looking up at you.

“Get away from them,” you warned them.

“You and your coven are in claimed territory, you’ve been here for months and haven't made your presence known,” one of the vampires spoke, his back had been turned to you the entire time.

“Careful,” Cassia spoke, you looked over at her. This was the first time seeing her in over seven months.

“I do not answer to other vampires,” you told him, going back to the ground, as he began to turn around.

Fire appeared in his hand, making you do the same, and just as he faced you, both of you froze. His eyes widened, while you shook your head in disbelief. Your heart was racing, goosebumps on your skin, as you stared at this beautiful creature. Your heart was reaching out to him, yearning to be loved and cherished by him, he was your soulmate.

“Enough, let them go,” he spoke to his coven, making them look at him confused.

“We can't just-

“Enough,” he raised his voice, and immediately they stopped, moving away.

Your coven slowly came to you, each of them bowing their heads at you. Alexander looking the most apologetic.

“I am sorry, my lord,” he started.

“You have done nothing wrong,” you reassured him.

“I am Armand, What is your name?” the man spoke, making your eyes shift back to him. As much as you knew for sure he was your soulmate, you refused to give in. To be used for his personal pleasures, like Cassia.

“That is none of your concern,” you said, and immediately he was in front of you. His eyes softened, reaching for your hand, but you took it away.

“You are my soulmate,” he started.

“And if I wasn't, what would have happened? You threatened my coven and me, I am quick to forgive, try again another time,” you spat, turning away, your coven following.

“You're just letting them leave,” Santiago asked, frowning.

“Yes, for now, we must go, the sun will be out soon,” he said, walking toward their bikes.

“Why would you deny him, deny yourself love?” Cassia asked.

“The sun will be out within the next hour,” you announced.

“You would rather be alone, and sulk until you die”

“Stop talking,” you muttered.

“You have followed in my footsteps with your selfishness”

“Cassia shut up,” you yelled, as your coven members shared looks of concern, seeing you yell at what seemed to be nothing.

“Everyone to your coffins,” you said, clearing your throat and going to your room.

“It is not my intention to hurt you, my love, but I don't want you to do this to yourself. If you could have seen from another perspective how he looked at you, he didn't want to harm you, if he comes back, give him a chance, please, for the both of us,” she told you, holding your cheek, before disappearing.

Going to your coffin, you blocked everyone out as they talked among themselves. Whispering questions, and ideas. As the sun came up, you fell asleep easily, all of them leaving your mind as you gave in to the well-needed rest.

Just as the moon covered the sky, you opened your eyes at the sound of a knock on the front door. Getting out of your coffin, you began to leave the room. You could see Demetrius at the door, it was only cracked, but you knew who stood on the other side.

“If I may speak with your leader”

“I don't think that is a-

“It is okay, Demetrius,” you told him, watching as he bowed, opening the door more to reveal him, holding a bouquet of roses.

“Are you sure?”

“I am, thank you,” you said.

“Good boy,” the youthful man said, tauntingly, while Demetrius slowly walked away, growling at him, as he disappeared into his room, as you approached the door.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you asked.

“You told me to try again another time, these are for you,” he said, holding out the flowers for you to take.

“I didn't think you would come so soon,” you said, making them fly across the room, landing on the nearby table.

“You are my soulmate, I couldn't go another moment knowing you are out there, away from me. I apologize for my coven and my behavior, we have been aware of your people for some time now, waiting for any of you to reveal yourselves,” he said.

“I too am at fault, I sensed the presence of another older vampire, but I didn't realize you would be so close,” you admitted, you couldn't decide if it felt odd or refreshing, as he stared into your eyes, nodding after each word that came from your mouth.

“Fate has a way of working, come with me, somewhere more private,” he said, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, you accepted his hand, exiting the house. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifted from the ground, flying through the sky.

He didn't stop until he was at the famous art museum, freezing security, slowly lowering to the ground. As your cold feet touched the floor, his hand went from your waist to your hand, leading you up the stairs.

“Your coven, they worship you as if you are their god, Y/n, it took a lot of digging to find out your name,” he started.

“They have convinced themselves I am some sort of saint for the damned, I have denied the title, but now I think they have simply chosen to be loyal to me,” you shrugged.

“And your faithful servant, Demetrius?” he asked in a tone you didn't like.

“What about him?”

“He is only your devout worshipper? He seemed to care-

“He is loyal, but if we had anything going on, it wouldn't be any of your business-

“Y/n, don't act like that,” Cassia appeared.

“Would you be quiet,” you started, but froze, realizing you spoke to her, in front of Armand.

“Are you…alright, darling?” he asked, glancing at you.

“My maker insists on haunting me, to make up for her mistakes,” you confessed.

“Her mistakes….”

“She thought I could potentially be her soulmate, so she turned me, but when she realized I would eventually meet my soulmate, she went into the sun,” you said, as you focused on the artwork along the walls.

“I’m sorry”

“Centuries, I have been alone, honored but unknown to my coven, it was her, who had convinced me to come to Paris”

“Then I should be thanking her, for bringing you to me,” he smiled, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Armand, I can’t be with you, I hardly know you-

“You and I, we are more alike than you think, untrusting, hurt, a wall built around us, in hopes of protecting what was once wounded. I’m not asking for you to jump out of your comfort zone, but rather, I’d like to invite you to visit my theatre. You have to get to know someone to decide if they are worthy of being trusted,” he said, making you glance over at him.

This beautiful man, your soulmate, the deepest parts of your soul pleaded to give into his words. Fall into his embrace and exchange your love, but the emotional scars held you back.

Clearing your throat, you walked away from him, towards the next piece of art. “I’ll think about it,” you said, hearing his small chuckle, before he followed behind you.

“Where did you reside, before coming to Paris?” He asked, making you slightly frown.

“Why?”

“I’m only curious to know more about you, your background, how did a woman as beautiful as you, become a coven leader, with such powerful gifts,” he said.

“I could say the same, you look very young, how old were you?” you asked him.

“Ladies first,” he smirked. Looking into his eyes with a straight face, you searched for deception, any reason to not trust him, but you could find none. His body language was completely defenseless and open to you. Sighing, you opened your mouth, starting from the beginning, you shared your story with him.

From the windows, you could feel the eyes of your coven members. Lowering to the ground, with Armand, you held on comfortably, as the two of you continued talking.

The coven couldn’t deny how different you already seemed. This was the most they’d ever seen you speak, occasionally laughing at whatever the man had said. The sun would be out in less than an hour and here you stood out in the open, with the mysterious man.

“You should go, the sun will be out soon, and my coven, they are watching us”

“Intensely,” he agreed, making you snicker.

“You look so beautiful when you smile,” he continued, watching as you bit down on your lip.

“I have to go,” you said. Turning to leave, he reached for your hand, stopping you. Pulling the card from his pocket, he slipped it into your fingers.

“Come to the theatre, you and your coven,” he smiled.

“Sleep well, Armand,” you told him, walking away. You could feel the wind blow, as he flew into the sky.

Entering the house, your mood changed, seeing your coven shift their eyes from you. You knew it was out of respect, but you saw them as equals, and this was growing tiring.

“If any of you are up for it, we have been invited to Théâtre des Vampires, I’ll be going tomorrow,” you told them.

“And if you expect to blend in, then there will be no bowing or titles, we are going to enjoy ourselves, save your worship,” you said, turning to go upstairs.

“My lord,” you heard, as you were about to enter your bedroom.

“Yes,” you turned, facing Marianne.

“He’s your soulmate, isn't he?” she asked, a small smile, on her face.

“I’m afraid so,” you said lowly.

“Give him a chance, you deserve to be adorned with love and kisses. Just looking at him, I’m sure your heart flutters tremendously,” she said.

“Is that how you feel about Alexander?”

“From the moment I looked into his eyes, I fell in love, and it hasn't faltered since then, please, you deserve this,” she said, for the first time, meeting your eyes differently. Not as a devout worshipper, but a friend.

“Get some rest, Marianne,” you smiled at her, turning to leave her, going into your room.

“She’s right, you know,” Cassia spoke, as soon as the door shut.

“I thought you were done for the night,” you told her, as you removed your clothing, changing into your pajamas.

“I will be leaving you soon,” she smiled, looking down at her hands, two wedding rings decorated her finger.

“Giving me another break?”

“For good,” she said, as you snapped your head her way.

“What do you mean?”

“You have found your soulmate, you may not see it now, but Armand is persistent, and he loves hard. You will give in to his love, and finally, this void within you will be filled. Meaning, my work is done,” she smiled, a bloody tear dropping from her eye.

“Where will you go?”

“I am damned, so I would assume hell, not that it matters,” she laughed, bitterly.

“You don't have to do that, you can stay-

You began to protest, coming up with possibilities, while she stood, shaking her head. Approaching you, you began to cry quietly. You held a resentment towards her, yet you couldn't deny how much she meant to you, at this moment.

“You don't have to go,” you whispered.

“I may be damned, but I’ve done well with you, my greatest creation, my love, my angel — you make the dark gift shine beautifully in the night. You will always be the best thing that happened to me. All I ask is that you live, and continue to flourish, no matter what. No more dungeons, starving yourself, isolating from the world, do you understand?” she asked, smiling sadly, as you nodded.

“Yes,” you managed to speak.

“As much as I’d love to savor your lips, I will save them for your soulmate. Even when I’m not here anymore, I will live on through you. My blood flows in you, leaving a small piece of me with you, for an eternity. Goodbye, my sweet y/n,” she said, slowly fading. As she completely disappeared, you noticed the teardrop blood stain, right where she stood. Proof that she hadn't been part of your imagination, but actually with you, throughout the years.

Opening your coffin, your mind shifted between Armand and Cassia. Love. You still didn't what it was, but perhaps he could be the one to show you — with Cassia gone, what did you truly have to lose?

“We're trying to assimilate and these pricks are blatantly doing this, acting like it's a play,” you could hear Demetrius grumble, as you all sat, attempting to watch the play. The play that you all quickly realized, was one, terrible, and two, their way of killing humans in front of other humans.

“Exactly, but these mortals are just as pathetic because they find it scary,” Jonah laughed, as the curtain closed. The young girl could still be heard screaming, her voice growing faint.

“I see him,” Marianne bumped your shoulder, making you look over. He sat in a booth, facing you, and as soon as you met his eyes, he smiled. You almost returned the gesture, but instead, you kept a straight face, making his face falter for a moment.

Turning back towards the stage, you listened to Jonah, Demetrius, and Alexander go on about how terrible the play was, going as far as making jokes about the actors. You could feel his gaze, but you ignored it, watching as humans began to leave the theater.

“That was almost two hours of my life wasted,” Alexander whined to Marianne.

“Look who decided to show his face,” the familiar man spat, standing in front of you all, his eyes on Alexander.

“He doesn't want any problems with you,” you told him, as his eyes sharply shifted to you.

“Their dear coven leader, you have all of them afraid of you, but perhaps it's because you haven't met your equal, or someone stronger,” he hissed at you, as you stood up.

“Is that supposed to be you?” you tilted your head, fire sparking from your fingers.

“Enough, Santiago,” Armand spoke up. The man rolled his eyes, but obeyed his orders, backing away from you. The action seemed to catch the attention of all of his coven members, as they stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold.

“Y/n is my soulmate, disrespect to her is disrespect to me, and it will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?” he raised his voice, and many of the members nodded in agreement. Santiago remained quiet when Armand grabbed him, choking him.

“Do you understand, Santiago?” he asked him, watching him struggle to nod, muttering an embarrassed, “Yes”.

“Good,” he shoved him away, his eyes moving to you.

“Come,” he held out his hand to you, watching as you slowly accepted it.

Looking down at your hands, his fingers intertwined with your own, you looked back at your coven. They smiled excitedly, Jonah giving you a thumbs up.

“I was surprised you came, what did you think of the play?”

“It was awful, but in a good way, I guess. I enjoyed the ending,” you said, laughing at his surprised expression.

“At least you're honest,” he sighed, his thumb brushing against your hand.

“I thought of you throughout the night, I hoped that you would show up,” he admitted, as he led you in the direction of the park.

“Yeah”

“All I wanted was to see your beautiful face again or smell your scent. I’ve never met any-

“Armand, this is difficult for me. I haven't experienced this kind of passion, for over half of my vampiric life. I didn't know how to love, or what it even means to,” you told him, but he only shook his head.

“Do you feel the same way, when you look at me? As if time stops, the compelling force to do or be anything your soulmate wants, as long as they will have you. The elation of just looking at your soulmate, because they look nothing but perfect in your eyes, do you feel this way too?” he asked, relief when you hesitantly nodded.

Pulling you closer, his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes. He seemed a bit hesitant, making you think of Cassia and Marianne. Their words replayed in your mind, you thought of the same saying from the previous night, what did you truly have to lose?

Standing on your toes, your lips pressed against his own, immediately, his arms were around your waist. Moaning into the kiss, you could feel the almost static connection between the two of you, just as your skin touched for a kiss.

“I-I want this, but I’m not ready,” you told him, feeling guilty, as you pulled away.

“There is no rush, as long as you remain close, we can take as much time as you need,” he said, holding your hand, and placing a kiss on it.

“And our covens?”

“They will learn to coexist, or they are free to leave,” he shrugged.

“I think we should get back, and maybe share this information with them,” you said.

“Anything you say,” Amrnand said, holding your hand, as he led you back to the theatre.

On your back way, you passed through the market, a young girl catching for attention. She stood next to a tent, holding a sign, in front of a crate of apples.

“Would you like an apple, mademoiselle?” she asked, reminding you of Cassia.

“I-no thank you,” you smiled, before looked back at you in confusion.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, we should hurry back,” you said to him, as he continued walking, pulling you close, leading you back the the theatre.

An eternity, you had an eternity with your soulmate. You could see now, that you would enjoy his company, he was protective, considerate, and kind. An eternity of being with Armand, perhaps then you would could finally begin to learn what it meant, to be loved.

i had to end it here bc y'all know i would go on and on 😂

[doitforbangchan]

Hey honey bun! I know you’re not taking requests right now but I just can’t get over Seungminnie in ABANB😩 I’ve read fics where he was “mean” but nothing has really giving me what he did in it😅

Could you, when you can give us a little short fic of him & baby? If not that’s fine.

ok ok, i have also been craving abanb minnie! thank you for reading nonnie 😘

ABANB drabble 03

‘ I will love you for all eternity, my beloved gem.’

‘And I, you my lord.’ The maiden breathed harshly as she professed her love to the knight. But alas she knew she could never be with her handsome knight for it was forbid-

Suddenly the book was yanked out of your hands, just as it was getting good too!

“What are you reading, puppy?” Seungmin laughed at your surprised face. You had been so engrossed in your book you didn’t even notice him enter the room. He looked at the cover and raised his brow, “ ‘A Knight to remember’, huh? What kind of sappy shit is this?” The beta began to flip through the pages.

“Minnniieee noooo I don’t have it bookmarked and I don’t know what page I’m on!” You whined, leaping out of your seat on recliner and attempting to grab your book from him.

He only laughed harder and held the book over your head. Seungmin tilted his head up to read some random exert off the pages while you still jumped up trying to reach it.

“ Ooohh I get it, this is a naughty book. ‘The knight crooked his thick, rough appendages inside the slicked cavern of the maiden until he touched her most delicate spot’, I didn’t know you were into this kinda thing puppy.” He snickered.

You gave him a pout, jutting your lip out and crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way your face heated up at his teasing (and at having been caught reading a smutty book).

“It’s just a story..” you mumbled, “doesn’t mean I’m into anything.”

“Don’t pretend with me, little omega. I know just how dirty you can get. Do I need to remind you what you let me do to you last night?” Minnie smirked at how you gulped as you remembered how sore you were this morning.

“No, I remember well enough.” You grabbed the book from out of his hands when he lowered it. “I still can’t walk straight.”

“You’re welcome.” The beta grinned, cackling when you hit him lightly with the book. “Bad dog, that’s not how you treat someone who has a present for you.”

“A present for me?” You asked cautiously.

He nodded, “yeah. What, did you think I came in here just to bother you for no reason?”

“Yes.” You deadpanned.

Seungmin put a hand on his heart in mock hurt, “You wound me baby. No but for real I have something for you.”

He held out a hand for you to take and you did, putting your smaller one in his. The beta led you up to his room and closed the door behind him.

“Ok, close your eyes.” You could hear the smirk on his voice but you did as he asked anyway. There was a slight rustling then you felt something wrap gently around your neck. “There you go, now you look like a real puppy.”

You opened your eyes and reached up to feel that he had placed a choker on your neck. Looking in the mirror it was a thick corded band that was dark pink and it had a little pendant hanging from the front. And it had the name ‘baby’ etched into it.

“you.. you actually got me a collar?”

He shrugged, now feeling slightly nervous that this was a bad idea. That was until you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his skin, inhaling his petrichor scent.

“Do you like it?”

You nodded, trying not to cry. It was a sweet gesture even if it was a little.. possessive. “I do. thank you Mongie!”

He groaned, “ughhh don’t call me that!” But the pink dusting his cheeks told you he secretly liked it.

You giggled and wiped away your tears, “I love it. thank you minnie. And i love you.” You placed a kiss on his lips, squealing when his teeth nipped at yours playfully.

“I love you too, baby. so much. Also you were on page 212. Just so you know. ”

You smiled with hearts in your eyes at him, making him want to look away in embarrassment. You looked back in the mirror and looked closer at the ‘collar’. It was cute, and no one would suspect the intention behind it unless you told them. At least that’s that you thought until you looked at the back side of the pendant.

“Seungmin.. Did you seriously put your name and number on the opposite side?!”

[nykie-love-anime]

My Friend's Hot Girl

Warning: cheating, swearing

Y/N Y/L/N hears her boyfriends friend Jake talking on the phone to her boyfriend and through eavesdropping she hears that he is fucking another woman. She's not okay with that and tells Jake that it is officially over with Bradley even though Bradley doesn’t know it yet. Jake makes like he’s going to leave to get pizza but Y/N isn’t having it. No, instead she keeps him over and gets her mouth all over him. No idea why he is at her house in the first place, but it's a good thing for everyone that he was - except for Bradley.

Masterlist

“I’m not doing this anymore man. I gave you how long to come clean and you didn’t.” Jake says to Bradley, busy pacing back and forth on the balcony, running his hand through his once styled hair. “Hurry the fuck up with telling her or I am going to do it for you.” Jake curses the man on the other end of the phone in his head. “Okay, okay give me a day man then I will tell Y/N everything. I just have to sort everything with Candy out then I promise I will tell the truth to Y/N.” Bradley begs. 

“I really like this girl so please just give me a… a day.” “Dude that girl is a fucking slut. Everyone knows it. You should be the first one to know it as she was flirting with a man already in a relationship.” What none of the boys know is that you came walking out of the glass door after hearing yelling. Confused as to why Jake is here you stayed quiet wanting to hear what the hell is going on.

“I don’t wanna fucking know that man.” Jake yells frowning at his phone coming to a stand still and you frown along with the man. “And I am going to tell you once again that girl opens her legs for anything man, so man up and tell her already.” Jake exclaims and you step further onto the balcony hearing the voice of your boyfriend on Jake's phone.

“Your girl is a fucking goddess and you are busy whoring around with some slut, who by the way has not a single thing on Y/N.” At the mention of your name you gasped and Jake quickly turns around finally spotting you, silently cursing he quickly changes the topic. “Let me fucking talk to him Jake.” you hold your hand to the dirty blond but he just shakes his head. “Aah yeah, can I please get a triple cheese with pepperoni.” You sighed looking at Jake pleadingly. “Man…” but he holds up his finger and continues talking.

“Come on Jake.” he just hums into the phone. “Hey you guys still have that special where if you buy two you only pay for one.” Jake turns away from you and continues pacing on the tiled floor. “Yeah awesome. I will take that deal then please. Both of them the same flavour.” you look at him as if he has grown 2 heads. Standing with your hands on your hips looking at him expectantly. The frown on your face deepens at him just ignoring you.

“Okay thanks, see you then.” Jake ends the call, finally looking at you. “Dude, what the fuck man.” “What?” Jake questions. “Jake stop with the fucking act and tell me what’s going on.” Jake stays quiet just staring at you with an unreadable look. “Jake just tell me what the hell he said to you.” “Who said?” He continues with the act. “My boyfriend you were just talking to.” you roll your eyes at the man in front of you. “You know Bradley, the one you fly with on a regular basis.” “Oh no, that was just the pizza, you know the pizza place I always order from.”

“Stop lying to me, Hangman. I heard everything, please just tell me the truth.” you begged the handsome man with a few tears in your eyes. “Is he fucking the girl he told me not to worry about? You know the one from the Hard Deck.” Jake looks down and just nods. “Yeah that would be the one.” “Fuck seriously, how long has this been going on for?” you asked the aviator. “Do I look so bad that he had to go and screw that whore.”

“Am I not pretty enough for him to love and not to fucking cheat.” you asked Jake not expecting an answer just wanting to let go of your anger. “Am I ugly to you Jake, please you can be honest with me. I just wanna know if someone finds me attractive.” your voice cracked with the first few tears falling down your face. “What? Fuck no you are a gorgeous girl. You are a fucking smoke show baby. Do you know how everyone looks at you when we are drinking at the Hard Deck. That dickhead had to fight off a few guys wanting to hit on you or to buy you drinks.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised and Jake just nodded. “You know if you were my girlfriend you wouldn’t even leave the bed before I had you at least three times, minimum.” He continues and you smile shyly not expecting him to mutter those words, your tears drying up for now. ‘Well you know, now that I am single, we can try it out.” you smirked at Jake causing his cheeks to flare up. “Wait what. No, no, no you see that was just hypothetical.” He quickly said and you took a step towards him.

“No, no I… I don't do that.” he mutters, cheeks still red. “This is just to make you feel better. You know… I uuh… hehe yeah I have to go. I have pizza to pick up. So yeah I will see you tomorrow at work.” “You know I am kind of turned on.” you placed your hands on his chest and Jakes’ heart just skipped a beat. “I am feeling really bad about what that asshole is doing to me.” you mumbled into his chest and he let out a small sigh. “It will make me feel better if you touched me like he never could Jakey.” you smiled at the man.

“Man I mean…” Jake stutters. “Man I can’t do that to Bradshaw, then I would be just as guilty as him. You guys are still together and you are hurting so I do not want to take advantage of you in this vulnerable state.” Before he could continue you cut him off with a half smile. “I officially broke up with him after that call.” You step your game by running your hands up and down his sides. “You did?” He looks at you with curious eyes, searching for the truth in your expression not finding anything to worry about. “I did.” you lie with a small smirk.

“Complete truth?” He just has to make sure. “Complete truth.” Again a lie. With that he wraps his arms around you middle picking you up from the floor. Wrapping your legs around his waist his hands travel towards your ass holding you steady. “Bradley and I are complete history as of a few minutes ago.” “Good, now I can finally do this.” And with the end of the sentence his lips are on yours. Moaning into his mouth you quickly pulled back. “Bed?” “Bed.” Jake confirms pulling you into your home.

Taglist:

@hardballoonlove

[holylulusworld]

Bad day at work (2)

Summary: It’s a bad day at the office.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x fem!Reader

Warnings: short reader, enemies to…, language

Catch up here: Bad day at work

“Nothing will happen, Mr…” You glance at the name tag on his shirt. “Jensen.” He glares at you while you cross your arms over your chest. Jensen purses his lips, ready to defend his colleagues. He’s just done hearing everyone complain because they are too stupid to switch their computer off and on.

“If I recall right, your job is to take care of the IT in this company. I called, asking for help only for the guy answering the phone to get cheeky. He ate and chewed loudly. I told him that switching my laptop on and off won’t help because the new software causes the problem.”

“I don’t think any of my colleagues would do such a thing!” He argues, making you furious. It’s one of Jensen’s rules to not eat or drink at your desk. Everyone knows the rule and follows it.

“He hung up on me! I can easily find out who was the one and get them fired. I don’t care if it was you or one of your buddies. I had an awful week, and today wasn’t better. All I was asking for was help. That’s your job!”

“Maybe you were aggressive and loud!” He steps closer, into your personal space. His chest almost touches yours as he defends his colleagues.

“I simply told him that switching off and on won’t solve my problem! He was unprofessional from the beginning. You can’t eat while taking a call. It’s impolite and immature.”

Jensen huffs. “Fine, fine!” He pushes his glasses back up his nose. “I’ll check who was on the phone and talk to them. I still don’t believe he did what he did, but I’m not unreasonable.”

“Neither am I,” you snap at him. “I was stressed, and maybe my tone wasn’t nice, but I tried to stay professional.”

He doesn’t believe you but takes your complaint seriously. “Wait here. I’ll check who answered your call.”

You grab your laptop and the remnants of your mouse. “I still need help with my laptop. Where is everyone? Why is no one here to do their job?” You look around the empty open-plan office. There is no one around but Jensen.

Jensen walks off, ignoring that you follow him. He’s already pissed and doesn’t need any more stress. “Brock! God! Charlie?” He calls, but no one answers. “Where is everyone?” He pokes his head into the break room, only to find Charlie and God in a battle over the last chocolate bar.

“Hey, boss!” Charlie grins as she wins the chocolate bar. “What’s up?” The redhead grins from ear to ear. “We took our break.”

“Who answered the last call?” Jensen sighs. Great. Now you saw two of his colleagues play rock, paper, scissors for a chocolate bar.

“Brock,” God grunts. He longingly looks at the chocolate bar. “You cheated.” He accuses and snatches the chocolate bar out of Charlie’s hands.

“HEY! I won it!”

“Guys, where is Brock?” Jensen runs one hand down his face. Charlie and God just proved you right. None of them seems to take their job seriously.

“Smoking.” Charlie snatches the chocolate bar out of God’s hand right when he wants to eat it.

“Great, none of you seems to work here.” You roll your eyes. “You know what? Forget about my problem. I’ll call my boss and tell him that I need a new laptop because the whole IT crowd couldn’t help me because they are busy eating chocolate bars and playing silly games.”

You twirl around and storm off. Wasting more time on them is not in your plans. Maybe you can fix the problem yourself. You’re not an IT due but know your way around a computer.

“WAIT!” Jensen easily catches up with you. Fucking long legs. “I can take care of your problem.” He walks next to you. “Listen, you caught me off guard. I’m very protective of my team. If Brock fucked things up, he’s in trouble. I’m his supervisor.”

“I thought you wanted to show me what happens when someone messes with the IT crowd,” you joke. “You know, so far no one has ever threatened me at my workplace.”

Jensen grins. He takes the laptop out of your hands and asks you to follow him to his desk. “I’ll fix your hard drive problems,” he dips his head to look at you. “And maybe I’ll help you deep clean it too.”

Tags in reblog.

[shan-yee]

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝

Daryl Dixon x younger!fem!reader ๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 = 950 ๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 = death, gun, reader lost her sibling and her parents, reader lost her sanity, age gap, Daryl saw the reader grow up. ๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 = Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t want to for the sake of your loved ones. ๏𝙰/𝙽 = I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS TO DO, but i rewatched TWD and damn Daryl… ๏𝙰/𝙽 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

Save me from the nothing i’ve become

Daryl had never believed in love, that is, if this « love » concerned him directly. He had always been happy for his people when they found the boot that fit them. But the idea that he could one day find someone who would accept him for who he was despite his damn character and his many emotional wounds, still open, was inconceivable to him.

And if one day someone had told him that he would indeed find love in a young woman whom he had watched grow up and protected for a good part of his life, he would have laughed out loud. Even more so if this said person had told him that he would also be the one to take the young woman’s life.

He didn't understand how everything could have taken such a turn, was it too much to ask to have a happy and simple life, in a house with blue walls and a garden, with his family.

Accepting the fact that he loved someone much younger than him took courage but he did it. And when he was finally living a somewhat normal life in this apocalyptic world, he now had to take the life of the woman he loved to protect his found family.

When Rick told him about it, he refused, he even got angry and shoved his friend before storming off. Then he thought, really thought, about what Rick had said to him.

Looking at [Y/N], sitting towards the many graves that the inhabitants had dug, with a blank look and the skin of her lips bleeding from the many open wounds they had, he realized that maybe, maybe it was the best solution.

Daryl understood that after losing the only living member of her family the young woman might be devastated and need time. But there was something else behind this sadness, a feeling that Daryl had only seen in his father. Such destructive hatred that he came to shiver every time his gaze met that of his beloved.

She had never been the type to always be full of energy or cheerful, how could you be when death lurks near your house every day, but this look had nothing to do with her usual detached and grumpy morning look.

So finally, he accepted. It was out of the question that anyone other than him would do it. He had gripped the grip of his gun with a trembling hand and that same evening he had found the young woman in the garden, where she spent most of her time, looking at the flowers that Carol was growing with disinterest.

When he got close enough to clearly see the outline of her body, he stopped abruptly, like a stake. And the [H/C] haired woman seemed to know he was there, why he was there.

He saw her turn her head slightly and glance at his weapon before turning it around and returning her attention to the many flowers.

—I’m tired. She whispered, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't slept for several days.

—I know. He answered her, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt like he had never blinked so much in his entire life.

—I’m sorry.

—I know. he repeated.

The young woman's shoulders sagged before she slowly stood up, Daryl's gaze following her every movement with an eagle eye. He knew she wouldn't try to run away and deep down he hoped she would, that she would hit him before running away at full speed. But she wouldn't do it, even if he asked her.

She approached slowly and Daryl was able to admire her one last time, she didn't smile at him, she hadn't done so for a while, but he saw a certain tenderness in her eyes, a tenderness that she always reserved for him and their friends.

Decided, the man took her in his arms, her head against his chest and she let him do without saying anything, her eyes closing.

—You’re not going to kiss me one last time ? She asked him with a touch of humor in her voice.

But he didn't answer her. She knew that her question was selfish, she was going to rest forever but he would have to live with that, live with the act he was going to commit and the distant memory of a woman he had loved but could not save.

—Will it hurt ? Her voice resonated like a sweet melody in the older 's ear.

—I don’t know.

—That’s the only thing you didn’t know tonight. The young woman laughed without any real amusement.

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he didn’t know what he was doing right now, that his action was surely going to be the biggest mistake of his life, but he didn’t. He decided to keep his feelings to himself, tonight was not about him but about her and for his peace of mind he was ready to bury everything.

She finally felt the soft coldness of the muzzle against her temple before taking a deep breath, she felt ready, ready to finally find her family in the afterlife and stop this infinite race against death.

—I love you Daryl, i really do.

The corners of his mouth twitched and he held her a little closer to his chest as if to reassure himself.

—I love you. He murmured in the corner of her ear, leaving aside his usual disinterested tone before pressing the trigger.

Daryl never spoke of that night again, refusing even to pronounce the first name of his former lover and no one ever found the young woman's body.

[lxmelle]

Just some thoughts on 270

Yes the end is near.

Yes I almost threw up when I saw that unmistakable hairstyle...

Yes I was a bit disappointed that there were no visible satosugu crumbs - or are there? More on this later... and the it overall just felt a little bit 😔 empty 😪

Nevertheless, I want to just blab about a few things.

First, is it Geto/Kenjaku?

If we think about how Yuta’s copy CT works, Rika would need to consume a viable part of the sorcerer. The only part of Kenny left was his whole brain. He was the brain. The rest is Geto. We have not seen any evidence of Yuta having CSM, so it can be assumed that Yuta did not have Rika eat any part of Geto. Otherwise, it’s be Geto’s CT and not Kenjaku’s body-hopping technique.

Imho: The person with Takaba is not likely to be either Kenny or Geto. Geto cannot function without a brain, there was none “spare” either, so the theory of a spirit entering the body is going to make it alive again - no, it doesn’t. There is no other living sorcerer who can do that - Ui Ui maxed it out with the number of times and there is no other person to swap with. Just. Not. Possible.

And Kenny was seen to have told Mimiko and Nanako that he took Geto’s brains out to inhabit it.

So. My conclusion is that Gege is baiting. Just as he did with the “we have to help Yuta!” And the rude yelling that got so many of us wondering just who would speak to roughly to Yuta and what warranted it. We were all asking: who calls Yuta “Yuta” and not “Okkutsu-senpai” etc. I even thought it was Shoko, assuming that Maki was in the same hallway as the others, but the main culprit was of course the most obvious, Maki herself.

And that baiting thing with the clock theory about 2:21 pm linking with chapter 221 of Gojo’s unsealing - I theorised it’s about having presence (like how spiritualists, and in Shinto, believe that spirit is all around us) despite being dead and his soul with Geto.

And goodness know what other theories there are out there about time and Gojo revival. I’ve said before that I don’t buy into it, but it is interesting.

So is it Geto? Kenjaku? I 80% think not but... yeah, I am worried. To be completely transparent, I’m so scared that it is.

Because I’m in the camp of: please please Gege, please please please let Gojo and Geto be at peace in their eternal afterlife until they’re ready to be reborn and let them find each other over and over and over again.

So rationally, I doubt it is. But I’m worried. I’m worried for reasons like: why aren’t the bodies and resting places of Gojo & Geto still not mentioned?

Next thing to I have some thoughts on are about Itafushi. They’re really good friends and I think it’s also just one of those things Gege is doing because it’s JUMP and he doesn’t want to just pretend the Hana -> Megumi thing is forgotten. It also shows some character growth.

So overall, I’m rather neutral about the Megumi + Hana thing. They’re still kids, and Yuji + Megumi are compatible but they’re also not quite Satosugu, so their relationship will be undeniably different. Friends or otherwise.

It’s nice to see the Megumi is taking initiative and finding novel ways to make new meaning & connections. I wouldn’t read too deeply into it, especially since Hana obviously read too deeply into it and got it all wrong.

I will say that it feels cliche maybe. Again it’s maybe a JUMP serialisation thing shonen mangakas do, since a big portion of the fanbase are young boys too. Gege can’t be doing too much for lgbtq+ too obviously after all.

So it leaves me feeling it is a little reminiscent of the Sasuke and Sakura pairing in Naruto - as if it could become something seemingly out of convenience/settling/making do, but what do I know? Sometimes relationships in life are like that. I’d rather marry my best friend, but you know... different strokes for different folks. As they say.

Now it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t find a way to make it about satosugu. I’m imagining collective groans from people who may be reading this... so please skip if you’re bored of me now, lol. Or read on if you like to be in satosugu delulu brainrot like me.

One of the satosugu-related takeaways from this recent chapter is that it seems to reduce the possibility of interpreting Gojo not allowing Shoko to process Geto’s body as being out of consideration for her.

Her saying that the idiot should have let her process Geto’s body pretty much says Gojo took matters into his own hands. Not only was it protocol… but she also personally thought it would be a privilege. But Gojo did not let her.

We ofc don’t know the details.

So it leaves us with: He did it for his own reasons, or reasons at least relating to Geto. Kenjaku thought it was out of consideration. And Kenjaku is not a reliable narrator, nor was Geto... who tended to think he didn’t matter.

You know, as a person who can quietly just swallow vomit and shit rags without complaint. As a person who could practically transform the filth, negativity, evil, and darkness of the world into power that he could use for good - he was vessel of sacrifice.

Anyway, I digress.

It seems to indicate that Gojo kept his body to himself ... for his own reasons, breaking protocol.

And referring back to 270 again, for Shoko to talk about the afterlife right after preparing the body -> cremation is strange. Does preparing the body and cremating it have anything to do with the afterlife? 🤔 so somehow, prepare body -> cremate -> mourn/afterlife?

Interesting in that Gege is giving us yet another example of how everyone has a different reality / belief. If we believe what we saw in Gojo’s death, then there is one and Shoko will be proven wrong when her time comes like how Gojo was wrong about dying alone.

And it is also interesting in the sense that it’s familiar…

Something about how she said prior to Gojo’s unsealing, about “I couldn’t love either of you like you loved each other, but I was there too.” - am I reading too deeply? Probably. But it’s there for me to read.

Shoko prepared Tsumiki for cremation. She was made her beautiful for the afterlife - even if she was to be cremated, there was something about giving her something (dignity?) before she turned to ash. And those left behind can send them off into the afterlife feeling they did their best.

I think you’d need a certain level of trust for someone to hand your beloved over. Or at least feel like they would mourn the departed like you would. Or faith that your beloved would be happy with entrusting you with that decision. In some cultures, the family wash and swathe their dead in cloth with their own hands where possible.

So Shoko. Shoko could do it for Geto, for Gojo. She was there. She was willing. But. It was almost as if saying that Gojo 1. could not allow someone else to prepare Geto’s body, and neither did he seem to have mourned because 2. Geto was not cremated to be sent into the afterlife. As if he didn’t trust anyone. As if he could not let go.

Again, Rika kept Yuta’s body “alive” too. Parallels are paralleling.

I don’t know how Geto regenerated or if Kenny was responsible for it. Or if Gojo somehow did. But those are just unnecessary details at this point.

And again, Shoko was there but she could not be like what Gojo was to Geto and what Geto was to Gojo.

How complicated.

I’m reminded of that scene where he says to ichiji and Shoko: “There are just 3 of us remaining huh.”

In agreement to Shoko acknowledging that Geto’s body needed retrieving from Kenjaku, it was quite a pregnant pause from Gojo before he goes, “………yeah.”

He seemed surprised Shoko brought it up and decided to just gloss over it.

To me, it collectively implies that Gojo doesn’t let Geto be anyone else’s but his.

His friendship was his one and only. His loneliness was his. His dreams were his. His love was his. His life was his. His body was... his. And his soul was his too. As was his satisfaction.

I think Gege wants us to understand something here. By what he is showing and not showing us.

If I think about the exclusivity that they shared... the whole, “we are the strongest (together)” and “it wouldn’t be bad to be killed by you” or even “I’m jealous but if you were satisfied I’m glad for you.” and then “if you were there to pat me on the back I’d be satisfied.”

It’s a lot like... only YOU can be the one. And therefore I think Gojo kept Geto all to himself. Maybe thinking Geto would only want HIM to touch his body.

It was his exclusive right. And that was mutually shared... because Geto wasn’t really pleased with Gojo getting satisfaction from elsewhere (lol, you know, the “jealous” 妬けるね that got the fandom in a frenzy).

I’ve mentioned it in another post... link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758015943938113536/i-love-the-idea-of-mutuality-that-is-deeply-rooted I really do like the idea of Gojo and Geto just teaching each other things. Like selfishness and love. Binding each other to the other. Selfishness and selflessness as part of being human.

Was this an act out of the side of Gojo that was “a little selfish, a little inhuman but a little too human”, and he wanted to keep Geto all to himself? Despite not giving his best friend a proper burial?

When I think about how he normally did what Geto approved of (you can dispute this if you wish) and I think back to how he might’ve really given Geto’s body back to his family- but what we saw in the manga seemed like they didn’t have much involvement either. Surely they’d have wanted Geto cremated?

So it leaves me with the idea that it was Gojo acting out his secret feelings.

Just Gege and how he shields Gojo’s privacy. Secret words. Secret thoughts. You know. Gege being Gege letting Gojo do Gojo things.

I think we might need to accept that Gojo and Geto just have this exclusive thing we aren’t privy to.

That’s all for now. Abrupt ending 🫡

Thanks for reading my rambling if you made it this far 🫶

Feel free to share your thoughts/comments/criticisms 😄

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

I rush into my apartment, slamming the door behind me, and take a sharp left to get into my room before Lex can catch me. Once inside, I lock the door and remove my smelly clothes from last night as quickly as I can. I’m tempted to shower again after having to walk home in them, but I don’t have time. As it is, Iris is going to be calling in an hour to ask why I haven’t arrived yet, and I really don’t have it in me today to deal with her moods, which are even worse now that she’s very pregnant. Spencer is due to arrive in a couple weeks, and my sister ran out of patience a couple weeks ago.

“Ash?” Lex pounds on the door as I’m pulling clothes from my dresser.

“Give me two minutes, I’m just changing.” I really don’t have time to chat with her, I have to leave, but I also kinda need my best friend.

Once I’m fully clothed, I walk into the living room to find Lex standing there, waiting for me. She takes one look at my face and holds out her arms with a concerned pout, “Baaabe.” Years ago, I told her that I hate it when guys call me “babe”, that it was a total turn off. Her solution was to call me “babe” herself, that way no one else would be allowed to call me that ‘cause it’s hers; and it wouldn’t feel so icky because she’d be saying it ironically. But then it stuck and now it really is hers and there’s nothing ironic about it.

I fall into her arms and let her embrace me as only she can. Lex gives the best hugs. Sometimes she squeezes the life out of you, but on days like today, it feels like she’s holding all the broken bits of me together. If she hugs me long enough then it will heal me, but if she lets go too soon, I’ll fall to pieces, so I squeeze her back just as tight and bury my face in her shoulder.

“What happened?”

“I made a fool of myself, Lex.” As I say the words out loud, I feel a lump form in my throat and I’m grateful that my voice is muffled by the sleeve of her jacket so as not to give me away.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I thought... I don’t know what I thought,” and then the dam breaks. My tears burst forth so quickly that I have no chance of stopping them, so I just let it happen. The sobs rack my body, making my chest hurt. I cling to her like she’s a lifebuoy in the middle of the ocean during a storm. And she stands there, solid and safe, holding me until the storm passes and I start breathing normally again. It’s over just as quickly as it started.

“I’m gonna kill him, y’know,” she says finally.

I sniffle and let out a pitiful laugh, “Please don’t.”

“Seriously? You come home in this state, and you expect me to let him live?”

I walk into the kitchen to splash my face with cold water and clean myself up. “Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean he deserves your wrath. Besides, I think I’m just extra sensitive coming down from whatever the hell you gave us last night.”

“So, this is my fault?”

“No. I’m just saying my breakdown is at least partially chemical. And maybe that explains Atlas’ mood today actually. Oh, I might’ve completely misread everything. Fuck.” I groan as I clench my stomach and lean against the counter, suddenly feeling sick with regret and embarrassment.

“Okay, hold on, what exactly happened?”

“I don’t have time to get into it. I have to run out to my parents’ house and help Iris with fucking baby furniture or something.”

“Well, let’s go then. I’ll come with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do today, and we’re not done talking. And I like your mom’s cooking.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders and kiss her cheek dramatically, “Thank you.” I’m grateful to have her to talk to during the two-hour drive. I would no doubt be stewing and obsessing the whole time if not. My family will be happy to see her as well. They’re always asking why she doesn’t come visit more. Of course, I know it’s because she feels like she has to go see her own family if she’s in town, and that’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Alright, calm down. Let’s go.”

Prev // Next

[cece693]

Enemy (Edward Cullen x Werewolf GN! Reader)

Summary: Imprinting was supposed to be a good thing, not for you though. Fate seemed to be mocking you by having your imprint be a leech—Edward Cullen, to be more specific.

tags: gender-neutral reader, reader is a werewolf, post-Eclipse, Edward is your imprint, mentions of wanting to be dead, no established relationship

You were on enemy land, yet you didn’t care. Let them come. Let them do their worst. Maybe it’d be a mercy, a reprieve from the torment you’d been living. The trees around you stretched endlessly, their branches clawing at the sky like the fingers of ghosts, haunting you with every step you took into Cullen's territory.

Imprinting on a vampire—it should’ve been your death sentence. An abomination, they called it. The whispers, the disgusted glares, the sneers from your packmates. Your family wouldn’t even look you in the eye. So, why not wander where you weren't wanted? Why not provoke those you should be avoiding?

A snap of a twig echoed through the forest, and you halted, every muscle tensing. You knew he was there. You always knew. It was a curse, this damn imprinting, a cruel joke from the universe to force you to feel everything for the last person you should.

“Edward,” you spat, the bitterness in your voice impossible to hide. “I know you’re watching me. You may as well come out.” Silence stretched and then he emerged—graceful, quiet, like a shadow having been given a form. His golden eyes were fixed on you with such an intensity, it made your blood boil.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, his voice irritatingly soft, like he actually cared about your wellbeing.

A laugh escaped you, the sound harsh and bitter in the stillness. “And where should I be, huh? With my pack? My family?” You took a step toward him, your fists clenching at your sides. “Because let’s be honest, they’d prefer me dead. I imprinted on a vampire, Edward. That makes me as good as a traitor to them.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, defiance burning in your eyes. “And you—you hate me, too. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Edward’s expression tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. That infuriating calm, as if nothing could shake him. It only fueled your anger. “I don’t hate you.” he whispered.

“Oh, don’t lie,” you snapped, shaking your head. “I know you do. How could you not? I broke up your happy little life with Bella, didn’t I? You were supposed to be with her, not be tied to…” You gestured toward yourself with a bitter laugh, “…whatever this is.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—pain, perhaps regret—but it was quickly replaced by his usual composure. “Bella and I were never meant to last,” he said with great honesty in his voice, catching you off guard. “We loved each other, but things changed. We changed. It was my choice to let her go.”

“Your choice?” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes. “Then why are you even here, Edward? Why bother with me? I’m just a mess—your sworn enemy, for crying out loud. If you hate this as much as I do, then do us both a favor and end it.”

He moved so quickly that you barely registered the motion. One second, he was standing a few feet away, the next he was in front of you, his hand gripping your arm with a surprising gentleness that left you frozen. His eyes bored into yours, a fire burning in their depths. “I told you, I don’t hate you,” he repeated, his voice edged with a hint of frustration. “And you’re not a mess, not to me.”

“You’re…” He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. “You’re my imprint. I didn’t ask for this, nor did you, but here we are. And I…I can’t stand to see you like this. I won’t lie and say it’s easy,” he admitted.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. We can’t change what happened, but we can try to make something of it. Maybe we start with being friends?"

You barked a laugh, though it was devoid of humor. “Friends,” you echoed, tasting the word like it was foreign. “You think we can be friends?”

“It’s a start,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “And maybe, in time, it can be more. If we both want it to be.”

The vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. You expected pity, maybe even indifference, but not this—this honest hope that things could be different. You let out a shaky breath, feeling some tension drain from your shoulders. “Alright,” you murmured, the fight leaving you. “Friends…We can try.”

A small, tentative smile crept onto Edward’s lips, and for a moment, warmth spread through your chest, easing some of the ache that had settled there. It wasn’t a solution, not by far, but it was a beginning.