#thing that makes me just.. i can’t stand nor get why anyone would find him appealing (respectfully)

[salsflore]

doing the quest tmrw cuz i did abyss today .. so far it seems like the entire fandom is 50/50 with furina, can’t decide if they want to beat the shit out of her or love her annoyingness

[sundaynightlive]

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

[chigirisprincess]

⠀ ︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ Don't Bring me to Tears

— Ajax

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!afab!reader, reader is traveller but not lumine, reader is plus size, reader has long hair, friends to lovers, love confessions, kissing, first time together, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lovey dovey sex, teasing, and banter. ⊹ Run time. 4.3k ⊹ Note. I found this in my drafts from 2022 and decided to polish it up for his birthday! I thought I had posted it! Silly me, I hope you enjoy <3 Happy birthday Ajax!

❝Tensions grow between you and the harbinger you inadvertently befriended as you invite him into your teapot for the first time, your home.❞

It’s quiet, that is the first thing Ajax notices when he enters the teapot, the second is a strange bird-like creature that perks up at your presence, perched at the entrance of the mansion you called home. It sits large and out of place amongst the swaying palm trees and salty ocean breeze, much too big for one person to call home but he supposed you were not alone, not really. There was Tubby the teapot spirit whom he’d learn the name of in passing, and Paimon your travelling companion, and whoever else you decided should be so lucky to become acquainted with your private dwellings. Surely he hadn’t been the first and he likely would not be the last.

“For an adventurer, you sure have a knack for design,” he says while idly skimming his fingertips across one of the many bookshelves in your home. He’s poked around more than he should, pulling out books and touching whatever he could get his hands on, “If I didn’t know any better I might question your merits.”

“It’s all thanks to Tubby.”

You seem to take no offence to his gross implications, rather curling up in front of the large fireplace that is sat in the centre of the room. Despite the fresh summer air and bright beaming sun, the fire crackles loudly within the office the two of you found your way into. It isn’t uncomfortably hot nor does it seem out of place. The warmth is pleasant as is the smile you sport, reminding him of home.

“And a bit of Adepti magic,” you mutter as you sprawl out on the floor. The plush emerald green carpet swishes with your movement, comfortable looking. Ajax can’t help but want to sink to the ground with you, but he remains, opting to stand across the room, “I don’t think I could have pulled all this off by myself.”

Tearing his gaze away from you, Ajax inspects the photographs scattered along the wall, there's a collection from the city of freedom; Mondstadt, well worn and frayed around the edges but they’re still hung with pride, even some from Liyue with traces of him in the background. He felt out of place standing amongst your precious memories of people who helped guide you on your travels. Guilt bubbles up in his chest, he didn’t understand why you’d bring him here when all he ever seemed to do is bring trouble wherever he travels. The pictures which captured the time before, before he betrayed you before he dared to sink the city of contracts. There was no joy to be found in that memory and yet you asked him for assistance once more, a desperate plea for someone of his standing to help find you a way back to the faraway land you hailed from.

“You helped save not one but two great nations, I wouldn’t sell myself short if I were you, comrade.”

Your nose crinkled up at the word, “I saved one of them from you,” it's a joke, you’re making a joke but he doesn’t laugh. He shouldn’t laugh, it was a failed mission and reflected poorly on him. The other harbingers already looked down upon him and this was just another reason to shun him, “Though you are forgetting Inazuma so if anyone is selling me short, it’s you.”

His body seizes up, his shoulders and jaw tense.

Ajax often boasted how great he was, how skillful he was with a myriad of weapons, and how powerful he became once being given a vision but in all his time with you, he had not given you praise. At least, not one that didn’t in some way insinuating that you were still the slightest bit inferior to him. He wondered, did you take his words to heart? A part of him felt regret though he couldn’t help but be prideful of himself. There truly was no one in the world like he, still, Ajax valued your strength and company even if his manner of expression was odd.

“Thank you for inviting me in but I’m afraid I must be going now.”

“You’ve only just got here!” You frown, stumbling forward on your knees to get closer to him, “You can’t leave now,” your eyes grown round and wobbly as something, perhaps insecurity or doubt flashes amongst them, “You once told me if given the chance you’d walk away from the Fatui and travel across Tevyat with me so why now when I’ve offered you a place free of responsibility are you trying to leave.”

It all tumbles out faster than you intend for it to, slapping your hands over your mouth to bottle up any lingering words that might jump out.

Ajax runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling his copper locks, “When I said that stuff, well I forgot myself,” he says, his lips curling up with distaste, “I’m kind of a bad guy and you know this,” sighing, he shakes his head, “You don’t want my company, it’ll only slow you down.”

“If I cared about any of that, do you truly think I’d have tried to make a connection with you?”

Patting the floor beside you, you give Ajax your best pleading eyes so rather than run away, maybe he’d talk to you. So he sits, all arms and legs, lanky. His jacket opened even further to expose more of his stomach, his vision clinking against his belt. 

“I’ve never had friends before, not really.”

It’s true.

His fellow harbingers were his coworkers and nothing more, close relationships in his line of work were nonexistent. At fourteen he left home, he’d changed and no one wanted him. Friends weren’t hard to come by for someone like him.

“There's a first time for everything,” you say turning back to the fire, “And you have me and Zhongli, kind of, and Xinyan too.”

Ajax frowns, there’s something more he wants to say but he can’t. It’d be cruel, unnecessary so he lets it sit in his mind. He doesn’t have friends in the way you do, no one who’d have his back through thick and thin. Ajax doesn't expect you to be that for him, and he isn’t sure he wants you to.

“Maybe.”

He doesn’t want to just be your friend. 

The thought strikes him when he finds himself admiring the wistful look in your eyes. A friend didn’t admire their friends, or that’s what he thought, Ajax couldn’t be sure what friends were supposed to do with one another. It made him feel pathetic. He was in his twenties, the youngest person to ever become a harbinger, adept in all forms of battles sans the bow, he still needed to work on that, and yet he didn’t know what this thing between you and he was.

We’re friends supposed to want to kiss their friend?

“Don’t sell yourself short, there’s a lot to like once you get past the exterior,” you smile to yourself, twisting the fur of the rug between your fingers, “There’s a lot that I like.”

“There is?”

The admission draws him closer, like a magnet desperate to cling to the nearest surface. 

You nod your head, your bottom lip catching between your teeth, “Oh yeah, lots,” it doesn’t feel like a joke when you say it and his heart dares to jump in his chest, “For starters, you’re a good cook.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod with a laugh.

“What else?” Ajax needs to hear more, he can’t live without hearing more praise from you, “Do you think I have dashing good looks? Or perhaps do you admire my exceptional battle stance?”

He regrets those words as soon as they leave him, but he’s lacking something, something that stopped him from making an ass out of himself in front of you.

With your finger pressed to your chin, you pretend to be lost in thought. His words don’t bother you nor does his demeanour, “Of course I do,” surprisingly, there’s no hint of sarcasm, “But actually, I was thinking that the things I like about you are far greater than the things that scare me about you.”

There’s a hint of bashful embarrassment behind your voice, coating your words and leaving you covered in a heat far more powerful than the dwindling fire before you. It doesn’t disappoint him though, it excites him, the knowledge that the good outweighs the bad, that you see him and not the masquerade of the man who presented himself to you so long ago.

“I don’t scare you?”

Ajax inches closer, strangely embolden to close the space he put between the two of you out of fear. It’s comfortable in the air between you, he isn’t afraid to breathe it in and share it. He never thought you were delicate, he knew you could handle yourself— you’d slain your fair share of dragons, he just wondered if he’d do something wrong. A stray comment could crush someone like a flower beneath the heavy sole of a foot. Ajax could be cruel even if he didn’t intend to. 

“No.”

He wants to laugh, his own parents could not handle him. Though, in his younger days fresh out of the Abyss, he’d admit he was a tad more unrestrained. Either way, Ajax has always been a handful, his lust for chaos and bloodshed not exactly the trademark for a hero or even a likeable man. If it wasn’t fear that his presence caused, it was discomfort, even disdain.

“Though, I suppose that those are my personal feelings blindsiding me.”

It catches him off guard, the notion that you harbour personal feelings for him, “Care to elaborate?”

That’s all he can muster up, a cool few words.

“Well,” you start, nervously picking at the, “I simply mean that I’m able to look past all the things you’ve done and see the person underneath.”

“And your feelings? They are…?”

“Childe-“

“Ajax,” he mutters, turning his head to the side, “My name is Ajax.”

With a slight nod you sputter, “Ajax, let’s not,” his true name on your lips is perhaps the most satisfying thing he’s ever experienced, “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

He feels the need to push, prod, and poke until you break and ‘fess up to whatever it is you’re keeping from him. 

Ajax inches closer, his hands settling on either side of you. Dull blue eyes bore into yours, leaning in so close his breath fans across your face. He can smell the faint aroma of glaze lilies and apples. You’d taste of them, he’s sure of it, he caught you snacking on them just before you roped him into visiting your abode.

“I don’t think I can do that, not until you’re honest with me.”

Pressing your hand to his chest, you laugh, “You’re terrible,” it’s without malice though he notices how your breath catches ever so slightly, “Being so presumptuous and demanding when I wouldn’t dare to do the same.”

He raises a brow at you but doesn’t falter.

“I’ve taken notice,” you grit, “Of the way you stare when you think I’m paying no mind,” there's a moment of pause that overtakes you but you press your lips firmly in a line, “So let’s just forget feelings and complicated emotions and just enjoy a moment of peace.”

Something comes over him, a surge of adrenaline or maybe it was desperation; whatever it was, it filled him with the overwhelming need to kiss you. So he did, cupping your cheeks with a depraved fever, all the air in his lungs disappearing the moment your lips met his. They’re slightly chapped, warm as is the rest of your face, whether from your own flushed skin or the roaring fire dwindling away behind you. The small squeak you let out dies on your tongue, your tensed body melting into his grasp, your own two hands taking hold of his shoulders, twisting the fabric of his coat between your fingers. Ajax nearly collapses into you, inching himself as close as he possibly can to you.

Pulling away from him, your head hangs low between your two bodies. “Ajax,” you pant, furling his coat in your fists, “That is the exact opposite of what I said.”

“I want you.”

The admission is truthful, it weighed so heavily on his chest that just uttering those three words filled him with such relief. So, he said it again, mumbling against your lips and he desperately curled against you. Sighing into his mouth, you melted against him, your own desperation dwarfing whatever lingering apprehension you may have had. He wasn’t any ordinary member of the Fatui and you knew him well enough to know when he was being genuine. 

It felt immensely better to succumb to the calling of your heart than to deny yourself the wealth of bliss that lay ahead.

The fire crackles to life, growing so hot that the clothing you wear is unbearable. 

“Do you want me, too?” Ajax asks, his lips chapped and crackled, though slick with saliva, “Because, I’ve been thinking about this for so long … Dreaming of it.”

His eyes, however brilliant of a blue had always looked so pallid and devoid of life, blazed with something startling as he peered at you through his lashes. 

“I don’t think I could go on if this is all I could have of you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your eyes flickering between his face and the carpet. His words sent butterflies fluttering amongst your rib cage, your stomach growing heavy and twisted as his gaze seared holes into your skin. Wisps of copper-coloured hair brush against your forehead, his breath hot on your face as he rests his head on yours.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing aside the caution you used as an excuse to push away whatever it is that you felt for him, “Shut up and kiss me, Ajax.”

Ajax laughed against your lips, his entire body practically vibrating with need and something scarily close to desire. He’s never desired much, not in the way one ought to and he’s never desired another person. The closest thing he could compare to such an overwhelming desire was his drive, it was so powerful it too often overshadowed his morals. Sometimes he wished he never felt any emotion like that but now, he didn’t. It only took a split second for him to press against you, his lips greedily claiming yours and his hands finding your body. 

And he kissed you for all the times he thought of kissing you, desperately praying to the Tsaritza and even Celestia that none of this was some sort of cruel mirage, that you were really there, your fingers toying with his hair, his name hot on your lips when he pressed his hands against your rib cage, giving your torso a small squeeze to remind him that you really were there.

“There anything else I can do for you?” He mutters against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip when you chuckle, “Because I’d do anything for you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap straight from your chest and splatter out onto the floor before you. The apples of your cheeks grew warm as blood blotted the surface of your skin– he was just so cute, it made you melt.

“You’re eager, I like that.”

Tightly gripping the lapel of his jacket you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled in your chest. 

“I prefer perfectionist.”

Ajax grins, a bit smug and you know he enjoys the way you playfully roll his eyes. It was true, he was a perfectionist. He could fight with just about any weapon you threw at him like he’d been using it for years and he was enough of a masochist to use a bow and arrow every day until he mastered it. You wondered what that might mean for you– if he’d be good– if he knew what he was doing. He had to have been because a pit had begun to form in your stomach and your breath grew laboured as his teeth grazed against the supple skin of your neck.

Plucking the Fatui mask off the side of his head you hum, “Gonna show me what that means?” you ask, a gasp cutting you off as he pulls your shirt off you.

“You’re beautiful,” is all he says, his mouth working down your body with a flurry of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in tow. His teeth and bottom lip drag against the smooth expanse of your chest and down to your belly. The blunt edge of his teeth digs into the fat of your hip as he takes a playful bite, threading your fingers into his hair and you roughly tug them, “Ouch!”

“That’s what you get!” You chuckle, pouting down at him, “If I see teeth marks you’re gonna be in big trouble!”

Ajax rolls the waistband of your bottoms further down your hips and your thighs. You kick your legs out to aid in his undressing, chuckling to yourself at the garish display that unfolds before you as he slowly peels off your socks. The weight of his gaze on your near-naked body doesn’t feel as heavy as you thought it should. Your shoulders ease and the pinpricks of nerves that spark off your skin roll into waves of excitement.

Your adventures and escapades while thrilling had long since worn your spirit; the feel of his calloused hands and chapped lips on your body gave your spirit new life.

For too long you danced around the adoration you felt for Ajax, afraid of all the labyrinthine complexities that shrouded him like an endless smog. It might have been love, you realise this now that you’ve dove head first into the pool of desire that too often filled your thoughts. Ajax filled up your life in a similar way, slinking between the nooks and crannies, popping up when you least expected it. A Fatui Harbinger wasn’t much of a travelling companion, not by any conventional standards, they were much too busy to be anything more than a passing ship in the night. 

But even so, Ajax has always been a man of his word.

When he confessed to you that there was nothing more he longed for than to be your travelling companion, he did everything in his power to bring that wish to live. You had thought him foolish, said as much to his face and yet here the two of you were together in the one place you could call home in Teyvat. Years of late-night chatter and heated exchanges coming to fruition. It left your skin tingling, heat bubbling across the surface as you watched him take in the sight of you.

Now as he cups your cheeks, you’re starting to regret not allowing him entry into your sacred space sooner.

“Can I tell you how stunning you are, or are you going to pull my hair again?”

The cheeky smile he sports does little to disguise his flushed cheeks or the way his eyes remain widened and glued to your bare figure. 

“You can say it,” you say in a small, bashful voice.

“You are absolutely breathtaking.”

There’s adoration in his eyes, it pools so strongly in his irises that you have to turn away. Your skin burns pleasantly with want. But his raw emotion makes you shy.

“Thank you, Ajax,” you whisper, ducking your head down.

His calloused fingers graze your chin in an instant, tipping your head upward until your gaze meets his, “Can I touch you?” He murmurs with such sincerity it makes you whimper, “Please?”

“Yes,” you pant, your eyes lidded.

Ajax tentatively drags his other hand down the length of your spine before settling between your thighs. Gently, he strokes your pelvis, his fingers lost amongst the thatch of curls that leads him to your cunt. Your hips twitch eagerly as he brushes against your clit.

“There,” you whisper, “Touch me there, Ajax.”

He nods, his mouth slightly agape, a moan slipping out. Your sensitive sex can hardly handle how he circles his fingers around your clit even for a moment before he dips into your hole to collect some of your arousal on his digits.

You sigh lowly, digging your fingers into the meat of his muscular shoulders, your head daring to tip back. His thumb keeps your head firmly in place as he darts between watching your expression unfold upon your visage and your needy cunt. Your slick folds swallow up his hand as he languidly strokes you, taking note of what you seem to enjoy. Blood prickles around your nails. His freckled skin breaks and bleeds from your rough treatment but it makes Ajax moan even louder. You keen at his obscene sounds, your own mixing in. You can see his cock straining through his slacks, the grey fabric dampening.

“Please,” you whimper, pressing your bottom lip between your teeth, “Keep touching me like that … I’m going to-”

“Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you down there?” Ajax asks needily, his skin flushed a pinky hue and gleaming with sweat.

“Please, please, please.”

Your back is pressed flat against the floor before Ajax has settled between your thighs. His chapped lips leave balmy kisses between your breasts, down the expanse of your round tummy, and amongst your pubes. You shiver when his hot breath fans against your wet cunt, your clit twitching in anticipation. Your fingers find his way into his tousled locks with ease, the blunt edge of your nails scraping against his scalp as he drags his tongue through your folds.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your thighs, “I swear to you that I’m not exaggerating.”

A giggle bubbles up in your throat, “I already like you, there's no need to flatter,” you joke, drawing in a sharp breath when he sucks on your clit, “Archons above… Please do that again.”

Ajax obliges you, obedient like a dog but twice as loyal. Your pleasure is his sole focus as he lavishes your pussy with licks and kisses, his grip bruising but evidently filled with tender devotion. You come undone on his tongue with dizzying ease. Your head swirls and swims in search of purchase and reprieve but leaves you stranded as your vision spots. The only thing that keeps you grounded in reality is the burn of his skin on yours.

Your cunt gushes and wets your thighs, and his chin but Ajax doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too eager to have his lips on yours again. You taste yourself on him and it fills you with a turbulent pool of lava. His erection pressed against your pussy, eliciting a moan that you swallow.

“I want you inside of me.”

“Yeah?” Ajax preens into your mouth.

You nod your head before you’re able to form words, “Yes,” you pant, “Now.”

His belt clicks and clunks haphazardly as he rushes to undress himself. You watch with a small smile and laugh. His eagerness made your stomach flutter and your heart jump. Your rib cage rattled with each new summersault. You wondered if he could hear it. 

The sight of his flushed, dripping cock makes your cunt clench and twitch with need. A sharp breath passes between the two of you as he drags the fat, engorged head between your folds to gather your arousal. The wooden floorboards creak as you claw at them, your chest heaving with haggard breaths.

“I’ll go slow,” Ajax promises, tenderly caressing your cheek.

A muffled noise of agreement passes through you and reaches his ears, but in all honesty you didn’t much mind if he didn’t.

His cock stretches you out deliciously, slowly filling you to the brim. Ajax braces himself on the ground, his arms caging you in. Your hands wrap around his wrists, your thumbs pressing against this pulse point. His blood pumps erratically through his veins. Your heart matches his and that thrills you to no end.

Ajax presses his forehead against yours when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, his chest flush with yours.

“Are you okay, Ajax?”

He hums, his chest rumbling, “Yes,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours, “But if I move … I’ll finish.”

He doesn't want to finish.

Something about that pleases you.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “It’s okay if you do because we can do this again.”

“Yeah?”

His hips rock into yours, his cock slowly rubbing against your snug, slick walls. The head of his cock stretches out your entrance before Ajax slides him back inside of you. Your breath trembles and you shake with need. You can feel him twitching inside of you. 

“Yeah.”

Ajax nuzzles his nose into the side of your neck, his sweat damp hair tickling your cheek, “Fuck, I love you.”

Ajax’s hips stutter as he thrusts languidly into you, his pace inconsistent as he contemplates savouring you and indulging in his own ravenous appetite. 

“I love you too,” tears prickle at your eyes as you’re overcome with emotion.

Warmth spreads throughout your cunt as he spills his spend in you with a final thrust. Throwing your hands over his shoulders, you burrow your face into his shoulder, hiding away your expression. You’re sure he can feel it pressed against his skin but you placate yourself with the knowledge that he can’t see you unravel before him. Though, you wet him with your tears that spill past your lash line.

Your heart pangs, with sadness, with adoration, with contentment. The current sweeps you up, your consciousness lost amongst your emotions. You loved him. You well and truly loved him, Ajax. Not even his status as a Harbinger could change that. And, you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + four

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

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

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

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

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

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

words: 10k

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

It's just what he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

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

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sor—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Con what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

“Hey!”

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

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

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

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

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

“Men?”

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

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

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

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

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

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

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

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

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

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

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

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

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

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

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

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

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

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

Small……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

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

“Melo.”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes her sick to her stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

“See you around, Solana.”

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

This isn’t good. 

It’s not good at all. 

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive. 

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

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------

“WarGames?”

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

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

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

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

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

Clearly, that’s not the case. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—---

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

It’s a spectacle, to say the least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Mexican.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost….almost kind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s just that effective.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of them will.

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

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

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

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

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’d be an instant death wish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“Solana.”

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

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

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

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

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

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

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

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

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

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

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

He’ll be angry at her.

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

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, it’s not necessary.

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

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

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

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

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

[thelikesofus]

starting our forever, baby

9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 2.1k words | s7 spec, prev bucktommy, getting together, love confessions, love is stored in the kitchen

Eddie wakes up to a surprise visit from Buck and they finally talk about forever.

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Eddie wakes up to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen and the smell of pancake batter and hot butter. Neither of these things is cause for alarm nor out of the ordinary but he is ninety-eight percent certain he went to sleep in an empty house. 

He rolls out of bed, shrugging on a sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of soft socks out of his drawer on the way past and to no surprise finds Buck in the kitchen.

“Hey! Eddie,” Buck smiles brightly at him as Eddie cautiously perches himself on a kitchen stool. “Good morning.”

Buck is bathed in sunlight from the kitchen window behind him, a halo of gold filtering through his soft curls, gel-free and touseled on the top of Buck’s head in a way that Eddie wishes he would let them be more often. “Morning, Buck. You’re here early.”

Buck bustles around the kitchen, pulling milk out of the fridge and grabbing a mug from the top cupboard, his body moving around Eddie’s kitchen as if it has been programmed with an innate sense of where to find anything and everything. He could be convinced that Buck knows his way around Eddie’s kitchen better than Eddie does. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just–it’s been a while, yeah? And I feel like I haven’t seen Chris in ages–I miss the kid–and I figured he was probably, if not missing me, at least missing my pancakes. I hope he hasn’t been letting you make them.”

Buck pours coffee from the pot into the mug, tops it off with the precise amount of milk that Eddie prefers, and sets it in front of Eddie before turning to the frying pan and flipping the pancake. “I know you’ve been improving in the cooking department–I can see it, Eddie, and I’m proud of you,” Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “But pancakes are my department.”

“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.” Eddie quips and Buck whips around to wave the spatula at him.

“Exactly!”

“Buck,” Eddie presses carefully because there’s a frantic energy fizzing beneath Buck’s skin, he can see it in the way he moves, the line of his shoulders, and the exaggerated way he swings his arms. “Christopher isn’t here. He’s on school camp until Friday.”

“Oh, right, I knew that.” Buck’s whole body joints to a stop like a record skipping on a turntable and then just as soon he’s back in motion again. “That’s okay! I brought lemon juice for on your pancakes, we can save the bacon for the weekend when he gets back.”

Eddie’s heart grows three sizes in his chest, threatening to burst out all over his kitchen and cover Buck and the bench top in a flood of emotions he’s spent the last month and a half trying to fold smaller and smaller until he can safely tuck them away beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone but himself. 

“Buck?” The other man glances at him before turning back to the stove, giving a soft hum in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Buck grins at him again but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“You’re buzzing, and not the good kind.” Eddie stands and rounds the counter, he leans against the other side while still giving Buck as much space as he needs. He presses again, softer this time. “Buck? What’s going on?”

Buck deflates and turns the stove off, removing the pan from the element and leaning against the other counter opposite Eddie. “Tommy and I broke up. I broke up with him, or we broke up with each other, I guess.” 

Eddie isn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew Buck and Tommy’s relationship had been going smoothly. They were a good fit, even Eddie could tell, as much as it sometimes pained him to admit. But he was happy for them. Seeing them dance together at Maddie and Chimney’s wedding had filled Eddie with a sense of pride even when it also left him feeling like he was walking with a permanent rock in his shoe—a phenomenon he could finally put a name to after a few long talks with Frank and an enlightening if not nervewracking night at a bar called the Peacock that Hen had suggested he visit for ‘research purposes’. 

“I thought you really liked Tommy?” Is what he finally manages to say once he unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“I do,” Buck says. His arms are still full of static as he gestures with his hands in that way that Buck does when he’s nervous or overwhelmed and he’s not looking Eddie in the eyes. Buck shakes his head. “I did. I did, and Tommy is wonderful but I think we both realized that it wasn’t going to last. He got offered a job, down in Mexico.” Buck pushes away from the bench, pulls two plates out of the drawer, and starts dividing the stack of pancakes between them.

“After the whole fiasco with the cruise ship, the LAFD decided they wanted someone on the ground down there as a sort of link between the Los Angeles rescue helicopters and the team down in Mexico City. They’re going to put him in charge of his own team and he’s been working towards some sort of promotion for ages so he’s really excited about it.”

“He didn’t ask you to go with him did he?” Eddie can’t help but let the question burst out of him. The thought of Buck leaving already feels like tearing out a lung but he also knows he’s in no position to ask Buck to stay, certainly not for Eddie’s sake. 

“He did, sort of.” Buck shrugs. “I think he already knew I wouldn’t say yes. L.A. is my home, I couldn’t leave the 118, I couldn’t leave Maddie and Jee-yun. Christopher, the thought of being anywhere that kid isn’t is just—and I know he’s not—but I still couldn’t. I won’t. Tommy knows that. He also knew that I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Me?” Now Eddie has to swallow down a lump of surprise. Eddie doesn't think that little of himself, he knows he’s important to Buck, they are important to each other, but important enough to be the reason Buck stays in Los Angeles while his boyfriend moves to another country?

Buck turns to place two plates, carefully stacked with fluffy, golden pancakes, each drizzled in lemon juice and sprinkled with sugar—Eddie’s favorite—on the kitchen island, and then he’s facing Eddie again only feet away in all his early morning glory and Eddie dares to hope.

“You.” Buck rests one hip against the counter and turns the full power of those bright blue eyes on Eddie as he finally makes eye contact for the first time all morning. “Yes, you, Eddie. Tommy is lovely and sweet and he has been so, so good to me for the last two months, we’ve been good for each other, I think.”

Eddie breaks the eye contact, he’s heard all about how wonderful and lovely Tommy is for the last two months and while he has been so happy for Buck, truly, it has also been agony. But then Buck is stepping up into Eddie’s space and gripping his elbow. Buck ducks his head until he can catch Eddie’s eyes again and follows his gaze until Eddie gives up on trying to hide from him. 

“But it was never going to work long-term, I don’t think it was ever meant to. He’s very sweet and we get along well but it never got any deeper than that. We made better friends than anything else.”

“Okay, so you ended it on mutual terms and he’s moving to Mexico?”

“Not for a few months but eventually he is yes.”

“A few months?”

“Next February.”

“February? Next year? Buck that ages away, why break up now if he’s not leaving until–.”

“Because it was time.”

“Time for what?”

“To stop lying to myself, to you.”

Eddie almost bites his tongue. “Lying to me? Buck, I am so confused right now. Did you hit your head? You do remember coming out to me right? You’ve been dating a man for the last two months. You brought a man to your sister’s wedding. Honestly, I am still living off of the high that I got from seeing your mother’s face when you kissed Tommy on the dance floor, that was—.”

“Eddie!” Buck laughs around his name and it’s the sweetest sound Eddie has ever heard. “Would you let me finish talking? Please?”

Eddie nods. “Right, yes. Sorry. Proceed.” He swings his arm out dramatically and Buck pinches the skin on the back of Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes. 

“Eddie,” There’s a seriousness to Buck’s tone that Eddie doesn’t hear often. “I don’t want to presume anything okay, so if I’ve been reading this wrong then please tell me because I don’t want to make this weird, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you uncomfortable but—.” Eddie watches the tick in Buck's jaw tighten. “There’s something here, right? You and me?”

“Do you think there is?” Eddie whispers into the space between them, barely getting the words out past where his heart sits in his throat. 

“I dare to hope there is,” Buck whispers back. “I would like there to be. Eddie, you’re my best friend, you’ve been my rock for years and I love you more than anything but I also—I also think I might be in love with you, and I think I have been for a long time.”

“You think?”

“Like pretty God damn certain actually.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods, barely keeping the grin from breaking across his face. He can feel his lips twitching with the effort to suppress it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He steps into Buck’s space and leans forward until he can press their foreheads together. Buck’s arm slides from Eddie’s elbow to around his waist and Eddie rests his palm against Buck’s chest, sliding it up until he can wrap his fingers over the swell of Buck’s shoulder and press his thumb into that divet in Buck’s throat where Eddie can feel the heat of him and the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the pad of his thumb. “Because I am definitely in love with you.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know and then I did but you were with Tommy and you were happy. I was happy for you.”

Buck breathes deeply and Eddie reveals in the way it rushes past his cheek. “What about you?”

“I’m happy now,” Eddie says and it’s true, and realizing that only multiples the happiness tenfold. “I’m so happy I could burst.”

“Happy that I got dumped again?”

“You didn’t get dumped, you said it was mutual.” Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “But yes, happy that you might finally be mine, that I might finally get to be yours.”

Buck leans back and when Eddie opens his eyes he finds Buck’s eyes glassy and brimming with tears.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Buck says and Eddie pulls him into his arms until they are chest to chest, chins hooked over each other’s shoulders and wrapped up in each other so completely that Eddie could not tell you where one of them ends and the other begins and it feels so right, so right to have Buck so close to him, for them to be one and the same. They breathe together for a long time, squeezing each other closer whenever the micro fraction of an inch between them begins to field like football fields of distance.

“We take this slow, we do it right,” Eddie says carefully, pulling back just far enough to cup his hand around Buck’s cheek and hold his gaze. A niggly part of his brain tries to remind him of everything that could go wrong, of everything they have to lose, but a bigger part of him can only hope for everything that could go so beautifully right. 

“We have the rest of forever, after all.” Buck’s smile is soft at the edges and it smoothes the jagged parts of Eddie’s worry. 

Eddie leans up and presses one gentle kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, allowing himself that much for now. The rest will come, he is in no rush for the rest of his life. On Friday Christopher will be home and they can make pancakes again. At the end of the month, Buck’s lease will expire and Eddie will finally have an excuse to never let Buck leave his house again. In February they will wave Tommy off at the airport and Eddie will get the chance to thank him properly. Soon enough they might get to dance at another wedding, maybe their own, definitely together, for the rest of forever. 

“Forever and a day.” He promises.

[messierthanthou]

Untitled - Bottom!Billy - Rated E - 2.5k Words - Written in Honour of @aggressiveviking !! Enjoy, everyone!

If it wasn’t for Neil, Billy could and would love more. But it has all been beat out of him, scared to ever even think of the things he wants to. Daily life is a masquerade, him in a lion’s mask, the rest surrounding him those of lambs.

It was a long way to the top of the food chain, but even greater would the fall be, if it was that anyone dared threaten his role at the top of the school’s hierarchy. 

Which - perhaps unintentionally - one Steve Harrington attempts purely by existing. Those deep brown eyes that sees past the mask of the still freshly crowned king disturbs Billy on such a ground-shaking level that it is do or die, whether either of them wants to or not, a battle is brewing between the two, and Billy, no matter his pains in life, is not ready to give up.

So he finds himself in the pouring rain, standing just a few feet away from the Harrington mansion, soaked to the bone but it doesn’t cool off his heated temper nor does it calm down his pounding heart.

Billy doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he can’t let it keep bubbling up inside him at school, because what if he loses it? Exactly what it is he could lose, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he needs to release some of the pressure burning inside him.

Without forethought as to what he’ll say or do once Steve is there, he knocks on the door and rings the bell. He’s angry, he’s nervous, he’s unsure; everything floods his senses all at once, and as soon as the door opens even an inch, he pushes it all the way and stomps inside, past a startled Harrington.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve erupts immediately.

“You alone?”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Billy shrugs, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“You can’t just barge in like this, Hargrove. What are you even doing here? Get out!”

The door is still wide open.

“You’d really send me out into the rain? Cold.”

Harrington groans out in displeasure, then closes the door. Billy figured he’d be a good sport. He’s too kind, even to his nemesis, and it makes the fury in Billy boil worse.

“I’ll get you a towel.”

While Steve vanishes to go find that towel, Billy stomps around the place, dripping on the floor as he goes. He knew they were rich, Steve’s parents, but this is ridiculously fancy for Hawkins. Hell, even their family portrait in the living room is an actual painting, and not just an oversized photograph.

Harrington catches up to Billy when he’s neck deep in the fridge, looking for the cold beers that he finds.

“You can’t just-” Steve starts off with, but Billy is quick to crack open the bottle against the marble countertops. 

Then Billy yanks the towel from the brunette’s grasp and throws it over his shoulder before taking a large gulp of the beer, which tastes far better than what comes out of a keg.

“Nice castle you got here, princess.”

Steve avoids eye contact at that, looking to the side and shifting in place. “What do you want?” he asks skittishly.

Billy doesn’t answer right away as the bottle occupies his lips, and soon there’s not a drop left. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?” Steve scoffs. “You barge into my house, and you don’t know why?”

The blonde shrugs and shakes his expressionless head.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

As a matter of fact, he does.

Steve then looks down at the floor. “You’re dripping everywhere, dry up for Christ's sake!”

Then Billy smirks a little, teasingly so. “Make me.”

He watches as Harrington clenches his fists before they come near his face, and Billy accepts it; the inevitable punch coming his way. It’s possibly what he deserves, he’s unsure of actually what, but a hit might be it. And yet, he doesn’t hurt, instead he feels softness caress his face, going through his hair, as Steve dries him off with the towel.

“Take off your jacket.”

“What?”

“I said take off your jacket,” Steve repeats.

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t get you dried off and warm, you’ll get sick.”

“And why do you care?”

The pretty boy takes a step back, towel still in hand. This time he’s the one to shrug, and doesn’t offer another word, lowering silence onto the two of them.

For a moment too long and quiet, Billy considers why Steve wants him out of his clothes, but perhaps the reason is simply more innocent than what Billy imagines. So he does as suggested, taking off his jacket.

“You can borrow some dry clothes, but once the rain is done you’re out, understood?” Steve sounds so certain of that.

“Sure thing, princess.”

Steve exhales hard enough for Billy to hear it, and is that a slight blush to his cheeks? Or anger at the pet name?

“Come on.”

Harrington’s bedroom is surprisingly barren in comparison to the rest of the house; nothing on the walls besides that shit ass ugly wallpaper, a few pieces of furniture around the room, curtains, and lamps. Billy’s room is a cluttered mess in comparison, but at least his got personality, and this is more like a showroom at a furniture store.

“I’m sure I got something that will fit you…” Steve starts rummaging through the dresser, and as his back is turned to Billy, the blonde starts undressing.

All of it.

And when Harrington turns around, there’s just a gentle gasp from open lips as his eyes seem to be guided like a magnet down to Billy’s limp dick. For whatever reason, Billy gets a kick out of the stare, feeling heat shoot through him to his groin.

“Billy…”

“What?” He grins wickedly. “See something you like?”

Steve looks away, but being naked in the pretty boy's bedroom, it excites Billy beyond belief, beyond understanding. Beyond common sense.

So he takes a step forward, just a small one to test the sudden tension between them. Steve tries to take a step back, but bumps against the dresser behind him.

As much as his heart is beating him into a weak pulp, Billy can’t stop walking closer after that initial tentative step. And he plans to continue till Steve says or does something to stop him. But he doesn’t, so the blonde winds up with his feet next to the other’s, too close perhaps, as he can smell Steve’s body soap and hear his elevated breathing.

They’ve been quiet for too long, so Billy says, “Steve, look at me.”

Without blinking Steve turns his head to look straight into ocean blue eyes, and their noses early touch. He looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy, huh?” Billy whispers in a teasing way, almost sensual without intending to be, but the nearness makes it seem like something it might not be. “You wanna punch me, don’t you? Start a fight?” Billy gazes down at Steve’s plump lips, then back up to meet his stare. “Come on then, do it. Hit me. Show me with your fists how much you hate me.”

And for a second time tonight, Steve touches Billy in an unexpected way, as his mouth gently and experimentally presses a kiss against Billy’s.

Who’s stunned. Such a tender act, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and two thoughts cause war in his head.

Kiss him back, or punch him.

The kiss wins.

But his hands don't stay idle either, as they grab the collar of Steve’s polo shirt and pull him into a far more ravenous kiss than what the brunette offered before. And it does things to Billy that he’s unsure of why it does. He’s confused, angry, furious in fact, but also undoubtedly and impossibly turned on. Never before has he gotten so hard so fast.

And when Steve grabs him by the hips he moans into their brutish kisses. It’s almost as if he can’t think any further past this moment, and yet his hands act by pulling at Harrington’s shirt till Steve takes it off. While his hands are off Billy, they go down to undo his belt and loosen the button on his jeans before the zipper runs free.

With his hands back on tan skin, he softly pushes as he guides Billy backwards and onto the bed, where they both fall together and bounce around a little with slight chuckles.

Billy can’t remember when he last laughed in earnest.

But he doesn’t linger in that moment, instead he crawls back till he meets the headboard and a couple of pillows. Then he spreads his legs for Steve, who places himself between Billy’s thighs and leans down to kiss and nibble across his waxed clean chest. The blonde moans when a tongue finds its way to a nipple, and the tip plays with the sensitive bud, hardening it before lips close around it to suck, and Billy’s sounds grow even more elated.

There are no real words uttered past hoarse curses and yes’s, yet Steve seems to understand what Billy wants as he reaches for a drawer in the side table, and brings out a bottle of lube.

The lid comes off with a clear pop, and the clear fluid pours over three of Steve’s digits. But he pauses, both of them out of breath and silent as the cold lube runs down Steve’s hand and drips onto Billy’s chest. Their eyes then meet, and he can tell that Harrington is searching for approval.

Billy’s heart is in overdrive, but so is his lusty need to feel the other inside of him, so he nods just the once, which proves to be enough for Steve to bring his hand down between them, between Billy’s thighs, between his buttocks and into his hole.

It’s not something he’s used to past a few trial runs with his own thick fingers, but Steve’s are thinner and longer, reaching deeper than Billy expected to, and it takes a moment to get used to the sensation.

And what an amazing sensation it is; Billy gets worried that the pure anticipation of getting fucked by Harrington’s cock might undo him too soon, but he resist the urge to touch himself and finish it all so quickly.

After a few thrusts he dares beg, “More.”

The thrill of a second finger makes him louder, more keen on expressing his incoherent thoughts, and when Steve continues to thrust ever so gently, Billy leaks onto his own stomach whilst gripping at the sheets.

Harrington simply stares starry eyed at the expressiveness of the blonde’s expressions of elation.

It doesn’t take long for Billy to need another finger. “Fuck, pretty boy, more…”

The stretch of the third hurts just a little bit, a slight burning sensation of his rim, but on the inside he feels like melting butter, easy and pliable in the brunette’s hands, a moaning, leaking mess of spectacular nerves coming looser and looser, til those three fingers aren’t enough anymore.

“Come on then, princess, give it all to me. Fuck me.”

It’s more uncomfortable being empty of Steve than it was getting fingered by him, but it gives Billy a moment to breathe without gasping and moaning as he watches Steve lather up his cock and guide it up to Billy’s expectant hole.

Slowly, inch by inch, he glides inside with the most tender of movements, and if Billy thought that Harrington’s fingers were long, reaching where he couldn’t himself, his prick goes past that, pushing in till Billy’s convinced it’ll fill him up completely.

It is breathtaking. 

“You okay?” Steve asks him softly once he’s completely inside of Billy.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m fine, princess.”

“Good… Good. I’m gonna start moving, just tell me if you want to stop.”

The blonde understands now why all those girls want Steve. He’s nice. Too nice maybe. Billy can’t stand looking at him, turns his head to the side and nods.

So Harrington starts, pulling out carefully before pushing in again, and Billy swears he’ll meet a swift end to this experience if he doesn’t hold back, for the feeling of getting fucked so gently is beyond excellent. Every motion, every inch, it consumes him with blinding and deafening lust, all of which he gives clear sound to by the way of moaning and gasping. 

Then Steve leans in to kiss his neck, somehow finding soft spots Billy didn’t know he had, and it helps in the worst way. 

Minutes pass this way, slow thrusts and kind kisses, so tender it might just ruin the war between the two for good, make Billy fall head first into growing a crush on Harrington, something he’s sure he doesn’t want, but doubt comes in with every near loving touch.

“Billy…” Steve mumbles and it sounds perfect coming from him.

So the blonde turns his head to meet those brown eyes gazing dearly down at him.

“Please, keep looking at me.”

Oh it brings forth buried feelings like it’s golden treasure that Billy has been trying to find for so long. Something he didn’t know he even could find within himself. So he looks at Steve as they go through this gentle time together. Billy didn’t think it possible that he and the brunette could be like this. Normally he’s so calculative, thoroughly thinking every word before saying them, practicing in the mirror for hours, but this all came so naturally once he was naked in Steve’s bedroom.

This is easier than hating and fighting him. This is it. Completeness.

“Faster,” he pleads.

And Steve complies, increasing the pace of his thrusts, and every time he bottoms out inside of Billy, the blonde calls out louder and louder, the heat in his gut building up till it engulfs him with fiery passion that can undoubtedly be heard all throughout the woods surrounding the mansion. 

“Billy, fuck!” Harrington hasn’t been completely quiet throughout, but now he’s becoming wilder with his voice, calling out the blonde’s name, telling him how amazing he feels, how incredible this is.

All the praise is what brings him to climax, his dick untouched by hands but rubbed between their stomachs proves to be enough friction, making him moan as his body tenses up and his cock empties out in the space between them.

“Don’t stop!” he calls out, riding the wave of ecstasy for a while longer than what masturbation brings him to. 

“I-I- ah!” Steve tries to speak, but is cut off as he too reaches the peak, which Billy can tell from the way his thrusts become erratic and his whole body shivers and trembles, then it stills, then collapses onto the blonde with his entire weight.

And Billy releases his grip on the sheets that he’s been choking out this entire time. Everything is peaceful and soft and he doesn’t want this moment to end, ever. 

Steve breathes out from exhaustion, and says, “How about a shower?”

Billy hopes that Steve can’t see the little secret smile he has when he responds with, “Sounds great.”

[cranetreegang]

Let Me Show You Something - Ominis x FemMC

Sooooo Hogwarts Legacy. I am obsessed. I completed the game, then made a evil Hufflepuff to do foul things and be a menace to the wizarding world. I fly around Hogwarts all the time. I'm currently living my best life.

And I love Ominis, Sebastian of course too, but Ominis just ahhhh he's so presh!! Like I just wanna protect my boi.

So here's a lil something for him. Nothing explicit and no spoilers. Just a fluffly fluff piece! I did my best to write using his view point, but I've never had a blind character before sooo sorry in advanced.

I like to imagine that when he has his wand he sees similarly to how 2003 Ben Affleck Daredevil sees. Like an echolocation type. Would actually love to do a cool rain scene like in the movie with Ominis, but I digress.

Summary: Ominis finds himself following the Fifth year due to his burning curiosity about her. He ends up finding more than he expected.

Word Count: ~ 1,780 words

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

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He can feel her as she hurries through the halls, pausing on occasion to listen for anyone else. At this time of night, and with curfew rapidly approaching, he can only make out one or two other students in these lonely halls. She continues and he does the same after her.

 He doesn’t mean to follow her, but he can’t help himself. Not only due to his curiosity as to where she goes after meeting with him and Sebastian in the Undercroft, but because she’s magnetic. It’s the only word he could describe her. Ever since she first stepped foot into their Charms class and even when she blasted dear Sebastian off the dueling platform, he could sense a distinct aura surrounding the new fifth year. Something unlike he’s ever sensed before. It actually answered his question as to how a fifth year could even join Hogwarts, let alone be expected to thrive. If he could sense the aura she possesses, then he was positive others could as well.

He chastises himself as he trails after her, her footsteps echoing in the empty stone cooriders while he maintains his silent walk. He doesn’t mean to follow her. He truly doesn’t, yet he can’t stop himself. This feeling. This presence she possesses. It’s driving him mad as to why, or how, she is the way she is. How eager he is to be within her presence. But, another nagging feeling bubbles up within him at what she does on her own. While she’s spoken to him about some of her ‘adventures’, he gets the distinct impression she’s leaving many details out. 

Her footfalls stop again, making him do the same. He strains his ears and he swears he hears a door open then swiftly shut. He frowns when she suddenly disappears from his probing. He rounds the corner and retraces where she went, but he can’t find her nor any doors to slip into. It’s like she just vanished. His brows furrow while he recalls this being near the stairwell towards the Astronomy Tower. There shouldn’t be any areas in which she could just-,

“Why are you following me?” Her voice cuts him from his thoughts and he whirls around to find her standing in the middle of the hallway. He struggles to regain his composure at her sudden reappearance, his mind scrambling to comprehend how she reappeared in the hallway with nary a room to hide in. And the Disillusionment Charm wouldn’t hide her either, he’s sure of it. He replays the question in his mind. She didn’t sound accusatory. No. She sounded amused more than anything. Like a cat that’s caught their prey.

She approaches him, “Ominis?” 

“Yes?” His voice strains to keep himself level sounding while he gathers himself. He has no good excuse as to why he’s following her. Nor any reasons as to why he would be here other than what he’s doing. 

He can feel her eyes on him, studying him. He wonders if she’s concluded the same thing he has. The thought sends shivers down his spine.

“It’s nearly curfew.” She states. 

“Indeed it is.” He cranes his head towards her with a raised brow, “Yet here we are.” 

“Here we are.” She lets out a soft laugh and he can’t help but smile at the sound. She steps closer to him, looking around to ensure they were still alone, before she whispers, “Well, since you’re here, for whatever reason, may I show you something?” 

Ominis internally winces at the jab. She’s offering to show him something? He makes a silent prayer it’s no trick before saying, “I-, yes. You may.” 

He picks up on her slight nod of approval as she replies in a quiet voice, “It’s a secret though. So you mustn't tell anyone. Not even Sebastian.” 

Ominis nods, “I promise.” 

She steps away then goes towards a wall, “This way.”

He hears a door open and he’s quick to follow her through. 

Sounds of cauldrons brewing, plants being watered, and a fire crackling greet him. There’s books flying to and fro while candles gently glide above them. He can smell fresh soil and a simmering pot of Wiggenweld over the slight stench of dung lofting in the distance. He takes this room in while she watches him.

“Where are we?” He finally asks.

“I suppose this is my own secret room. It’s called the Room of Requirement.” He can hear the smile in her words as she adds, “Since Sebastian showed me the Undercroft, it’s only fair I show you a secret place of my own.” 

She walks away towards a set of stairs, “This way.” She pauses then fully looks back at him, “How do you feel about beasts?” 

Ominis’ brows furrow once more, “I don’t fear them, if that’s what you’re wondering. Why do you ask?” 

“You’ll see.” 

He follows close behind while she leads them to a strange doorway. One which his wand struggles to comprehend for him. It’s almost like a portkey or portal of sorts. She stands next to him, watching as he hesitates on what to do next. Her hand grazes his. He hates himself for flinching at the sudden contact, but he’s relieved when her hand wraps around his own. The electric aura she possesses shoots through his arm like a hot current. 

“Trust me. I think you’ll like what this surprise is.” She gives him a soft squeeze and he can only nod in reply. 

She steps through the strange doorway first and he follows right behind. The air whooshes around them then he’s met with the sweet trill of bird song. He feels the warmth of the sun on his face and the gentle breeze ruffling his robes and hair. The air is as crisp as an autumn morning and he takes in the serene atmosphere for a moment.

“We’re outside?” He shakes his head. No, it wouldn’t be daylight quite yet.

She squeezes his hand once more, “In a way, yes. We are currently in a Vivarium.” 

“A Vivarium?” He hums to himself as he pieces together why she had questioned him about his affinity towards magical beasts. “How do you know of this place? When did you even find this?” 

He has so many questions, but she only giggles.

“I’ll tell you all about it. I promise. But, first,” She guides him forwards towards a clearing,“let me show you the surprise.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath at the presence of a large beast in front of them. He doesn’t realize he’s clenching her hand until she whispers, “Don’t worry. She won’t hurt you.” 

The beast approaches, giving a snort as she stops in front of them. Ominis realizes what beast this is.

“A unicorn.” He says in quiet shock. 

“Yes. Have you ever been around one before?” 

He shakes his head and she gives him a gentle squeeze. He can’t stop his slight smile at her touches while she asks, “Would you like to pet her?” 

He gulps then nods. She guides his hand up then towards the beast. As he awaits the unicorn, his chest flutters in anticipation. A wet nose brushes against his palm before it fully presses into his hand. A surprised chuckle escapes him. She guides his hand up the unicorn’s snout then back down again. Much to his dismay, her hand leaves him and he’s left to pet the unicorn on his own. 

“I’ve read of unicorns,” Ominis grins, “and their calm, serene nature. I fear the books did not do them justice though. They’re beautiful.” He whispers. 

As Ominis lowers his hand back to his side. The Unicorn nudges his cheek with a parting snort. He listens as the beast trots away on the lush grass and he’s left with a sense of wonder. 

“I think she likes you.” She smiles, pulling him from his thoughts once more. He can’t stop his smile as he takes in his friend next to him. How easily she pulls people into her. Into her warmth. He’s thankful for Sebastian’s insistence on including her into their lives. 

“Thank you. For showing me this. I won’t soon forget this kindness.” 

Her hand finds his once again and she guides him back towards the exit, “It was truly my pleasure, Ominis. I suppose it’s a good thing you have a coincidental knack of being where I am.” 

His mouth falls agape and he wants to defend himself against her accusation, but her gentle laugh and even softer squeeze of his hand makes him fall silent for a moment. 

“I don’t mean to. Truly.” He whispers. “With everything going on. You sneaking away from the castle. The poachers. The goblins. Even with what you do tell Sebastian and I, I know you’re keeping most of what you do to yourself. I… worry for you. Much like I do for Sebastian. I don’t wish for any harm to befall you. Either of you.” 

The air whooshes around them and they’re back in the Room of Requirement once more. 

“I don’t mind, Ominis. And I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you.” Her other hand rests on his forearm and more electric currents shoot across his body. “Do know that I am able to take care of myself. And I try not to throw myself into danger’s way too often.” 

Ominis snorts with a slight shake of his head, “I don’t doubt your capabilities. Far from it.” 

A bell tolls and she lets out a disappointed sigh.

“Curfew?” He wonders. 

“Indeed. I must now also apologize for keeping you for so long.” 

They walk down the stairs and towards the exit.

“Don’t. I would gladly serve detention if it means petting a unicorn once more.” Ominis smirks then adds, “That is, if I get caught anyways.” 

She laughs while she holds open the door for him to walk through, “I swear you almost sounded like Sebastian for a moment.” 

Ominis smiles and a silence falls between them as they stand out in the lonely hallway. Her hand gives his one final squeeze before letting go, taking the warmth he feels with her. 

“Well, I hope you have an uneventful walk back to your dorm.” She whispers. “I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast, yes?” 

He nods, “Sounds wonderful. Have a good night, my friend.” 

“And you as well, my friend.” She smiles then turns on her heel to head towards her dorm. He stays there, listening to her footfalls as they drift away. He can still feel the echoes of her warmth in his hand while he sneaks his way back to his common room. A smile unable to leave his lips.

---------------------

AN: Hopefully you enjoyed! Let me know what ya think and if anyone wants to discuss Hogwarts Legacy, don't be afraid to reach out cause my oh my am I just reeling over the ending.

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

[allinestarr]

Relentless 3/?

Max Verstappen x Fem driver Reader!

(Long time no see but heres the next Chapter as promised!. Also, I love the idea of adding a song that relates to the chapter and what mind frame I was in when I was writing it, so I will be including a song with every chapter I write from now on. Without further ado, Happy reading!...or not😈)

“Max?…”

“Hey..”

“What are you doing here?.”

“I want to talk.”

“I think you said all you needed to say last time.”

As you walked passed him to open the door, he grabbed your wrist lightly as he pleaded,

“Please, I’ll be quick. I promise.”

You wanted nothing more then to see him dragged out of your building by security, but the more you thought the more curious you were. What was so important that he would be at your front door this late at night?.

“Fine. But let’s speak inside. I don’t want to wake my neighbors.”

Unlocking the door he followed you inside. The whole time you put away your things he just stood and watched. Finally finding the silence unbearable you turned and as you were about to speak a bolt of thunder shot through the sky so loud it echoed in your apartment. Flinching slightly you closed your eyes as your heart beat as fast as the formula 1 car you drove. Nothing scared you more then storms.

Flashback

It happened when you were 10. You had just won your first Karting race and spent the whole day celebrating with your parents when on your way back home it started to rain. Soon the rain got harder and the winds faster. There was no visibility so your father didn't see the truck in front spinning towards you and before he could react it was to late. The car flipped a couple times and miraculously you weren't to hurt other then a broken arm and a few bumps and scratches. Your parents however…didn’t make it. After that your uncle took custody of you and raised you. Ever since, anytime theres a storm you always panic and think back to the time of the accident.

End of flashback

When you opened your eyes Max was staring at you. He almost looked concerned but never would you admit you were scared. People always take advantage of weakness.

"Are you going to say what you have to say?."

“Yea… first of all I wanted to apologize. I know what I said was out of line. I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth…”

"Then why did you?"

"I was mad and.."

Another bolt of lightning interrupted him and this time, shut the power off.

"Great, no power.. Hold on let me get some light in here."

Max watched as you disappeared into your room and came back with a handful of candles setting them down throughout the kitchen and living room. Your stomach was rumbling and the food was just about cold so you decided to eat first and talk after. You set the food down on the table and looked over at Max.

“You hungry?. I always buy to much food and never eat it all.”

Max was genuinely confused. How could you offer him food and the chance to hear him out after he treated you so terribly?.

"Yea..thank you."

Once the table was set and you began eating, you finally spoke.

“So you were saying you were mad and what?”

Max wasn’t going to admit he was jealous nor that he fought with Kelly about how he talks about you all the time, so he gave you short version that it was indeed Kelly who lied and confirmed the rumors.

“Wow… I didn’t know she hated me that much. I just don’t understand why she would do it..”

“I guess she thought you were getting to much support and good media over me.” He lied.

“So what now?.”

“Kelly and I are on a break. I need time to think about our relationship. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a liar.”

“I’m sorry to hear.. i won’t tell anyone if you’re worried I will.”

“Why?. You have every right to expose her.”

“I know, but I won’t. You’ll get dragged down along with her and that’s not fair. I will keep this to myself and I won’t tell Charles either.”

“Thank you. How’s Charles by the way?.”

“He’s really good actually!.”

“Really?” He smiled.

“Yea. Alex and Charles are back together!. I went to Italy to speak to her and clear things up. I was honest and she believed me and I convinced her to come back with me to Monaco to surprise Charles. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He literally was to stunned to speak and though he was imagining her at the door!. Im just glad they are back together.”

“You’re a really good friend, you know that?.”

You smiled but just when you were about speak a gust of wind blew the windows open. Quickly running over to the living room you locked them shut. After eating and more talking you cleared up the table throwing out the empty food containers and bringing the dirty dishes to the sink. Just as you rolled up your sleeves to wash the dishes Max put his hand on your shoulder stopping you. He was so close you could feel his breath and smell his cologne. Goosebumps spread across your body and it suddenly became hot. This was wrong on so many levels. First being he has a girlfriend and second, you’re suppose to hate him. His voice brought you back to reality as he spoke.

“Wait, I’ll wash it. It’s the least I can do.”

Turning your head to the side you studied his face for a second and it wasn’t his usual cold emotionless face, instead he smiled and it felt warm. You nodded and walked back to the living room.

Max POV

The windows burst open and he watched you stride across the room to shut them. You grabbed the plates and garbage and was about to start washing them when he stopped you. He felt you tense when he touched your shoulder and it felt like there was sparks running through his body. When you turned he felt his breath catch and a blush crept on his face. He was in deep. After washing the dishes he walked to the living room catching you staring out the window. The moon illuminated your face making you look angelic and peaceful. He wished he could be stuck in this moment forever but he knew he couldn’t so he approached you and put his hand on your shoulder making you aware he was there.

Back to Present

The sounds of waves crashing put you in a trance as you stared out the window. A hand on your shoulder broke it.

“I finished up.. I’m going to head out before it gets worse out there.. I’m staying at a hotel nearby so it’s not a long walk.”

“Why don’t you stay here for the night?… It’s dark and dangerous out there. I have a guest room.”

“No I couldn’t impose…”

“You wouldn’t be. I insist. And also, I don’t want be responsible for something happening to you and have the wrath of Christian Horner and Redbull on my hands!.” You laughed.

“Yea, probably best to avoid that.” He laughed.

You smiled and walked him over to the guest room.

“There’s a bathroom over there and I might have a spare set of clothes Lewis left over here..”, you say as you rummaged through the drawers handing him a pair of shorts and t-shirt.

He looked at you curiously before you realize why.

“Oh, he sleeps here sometimes. Not in that way though. We have sleepovers and watch movies and eat junk food.” You laughed.

He smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m wearing this, especially Christian. He would have my balls for it.” He laughed holding up the Mercedes T-shirt.

“Our secret.” You smiled.

“So.. theres a portable charger in the bedside table in case you need it for your phone. I’m down the hall if you need anything. Goodnight..”

Max watched you walk away and as you shut the door he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You made him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t remember the last time he genuinely laughed like he did with you. It made his decision harder. If he became friends with you, Kelly would be miserable and it wouldn’t work out. It would break P’s heart if he left and he loved her so much like as if she was his own daughter. Instead of overthinking, he decided to just change and try to fall asleep. But it sounded easier then it was when you were a couple feet away. Little did he know the same thoughts ran through your head in the other room. Max had to decide soon cause he couldn’t avoid Kelly forever and the start of the season was just around the corner.

Morning came sooner then you’d liked and the events of last night made you think questions like, “Would it be awkward?, Are you technically friends?, What should I say when I see him?…”. One things for sure, you’re not going to find out by laying down in bed all day. Getting up you quickly brushed your teeth and hair before opening the door. The guest room door was still closed so you went to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up a quick breakfast for the both of you. After setting the table you started bringing over the food and coffee when Max came out of the bedroom already changed back into his clothe.

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“Morning.”

“I made some breakfast and coffee. Help yourself.”

He smiled and sat across you filling his plate with eggs and turkey bacon before digging in. There wasn’t much conversation while you ate and when you both finished, it was time to have the talk.

“So.. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty confused where we go from here. Are we friends or just colleagues?. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot with Kelly and I don’t want to be the reason you guys break up or cause tension in your relationship. I’ll support whatever you decide.”

At the mention of Kelly a feeling of dread overtook Max but he shook it off to worry about later.

“Um.. I don’t want to go back to how it used to be. We’ve had this rivalry going on since our karting days and to be honest I don’t even know how it started, but I do know it’s done. I don’t know what I want to do about Kelly right now but I think we can try to be friends just… in secret till I figure it out.”

You were bit disappointed but accepted his answer.

“Ok.”

Just then Max’s phone rang and the screen revealed Kelly’s contact with a picture of Max, P and Kelly. You looked at him and nodded with a small smile. He got up and walked back to the guest room to take the call.

“Hello.”

“Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a few days. P’s asking about you and said she misses you… Also, I really want to apologize for what I did. I was just so tired of hearing about Y/n and I thought maybe you didn’t love me anymore and felt feelings for her. I know what I did was unforgivable but I promise I’ll never do it again. We’ve been together for so many years and I don’t want to just throw away this relationship. We are a family. Please just think about it. However long it takes you, I’ll wait...”

Max was as conflicted as ever. Kelly was right that they had been together for a long time and were a family but what about y/n. He couldn’t deny he had an attraction to you but was it worth losing Kelly and P to explore this new possibility?. The consequences for him wouldn’t be as bad as it would for you. You’d already been through so much with the rumors and just being a woman in formula 1 he couldn’t cause you any more pain. As much as it hurt him to not just admit his feelings to you, he had to bury his love for you. He had to protect you even if it cost his happiness.

“I guess we could try to move past this but I won’t give you another chance if this happens again. I’m in Monaco at a hotel so I’ll be home today. We’ll talk more later.”

“Ok. I love you…”

“Love you too.”

It sounded forced even in his head as he said it. When he hung up he regretted taking the call. In truth, Max had been falling out of love with Kelly for some time. He didn’t know when it happened but it did. She started showing up less to his races, decided to go to shoots and work instead of spending winter break on vacation as a family and got extremely jealous when Y/n joined the grid. The only reason he didn’t leave Kelly was because of P. He made his way back to the kitchen where you still sat at the table.

“So.. everything ok?.”

Max hesitated as his pulse quickened.

“Um.. yea. I guess so.”

You couldn’t explain why you heart dropped to your stomach and why it hurt. It made you feel guilty for hoping he would chose you over them. He was never yours to have. You mustered up a smile as you spoke.

“I’m happy for you. We’ll always be secret friends.”

Max felt sick at the word friends. He wanted to scream and say, “No I don’t want to be your friend!. I want more!. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time!.”. But the words were stuck in his throat. So he just smiled. He smiled and accepted his fate.

“Yea. Secret friends…Thank you for everything. Letting me stay here and keeping the secret about Kelly. I really appreciate it. I would stay longer but I have to get back to my hotel and pack up, Kelly will be expecting me. Ill see you Bahrain in a few weeks.”

He walked to the door and you followed. He looked like he was going to say something but looked down and walked to the elevator. Before the doors closed he looked up and said your name. You said his back as the doors finally closed.

Y/n: I'm fucked 😳

Rae: what happened to, "Hi, how are you?". What's wrong???...

Y/n: Hi how are you?. Hope this message finds you well. Also, im fucked 😫

Rae: Ok, Ok. I get it, sorry. but seriously what's wrong??

Y/n: I may be in love with Max Verstappen.....🫢

—————Incoming FaceTime call Rae——————

"Whattttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!" Rae screamed.

"Yea"

"What do you mean yea. You can't throw this bomb at me and not elaborate. You know im a sucker for a good enemies to lovers trope but this is messed up even for me. If im not mistaken, you're like arch rivals. Y'all have hated each other since karting. He literally just crashed into you on purpose in Spain. And when I was there a few weeks ago, you looked like you wanted to kill him. Please I have to know. How????."

"Well when you put it like that I should really hate is guts.. But things have changed. He slept over last night. He actually just left."

"Girl you're about to give me a heart attack. You fucked him to!!!!!!!"

'No!!!!!"

"Then what the hell was he doing at your place!."

"After I dropped off Alex I stoped and got food and when I got home he was sitting outside my door. He wanted to talk and I told him to leave but my curiosity got the best of me and I let him come inside. He just stood there and I told him to talk or leave and it started to thunder and the lights went out. I was hungry and I didn't want to be an asshole even though I had every right to, so I offered him food."

"You broke bread with the enemy?. You have truly lost your mind."

"Rae, let me finish."

"Sorry, go on."

"Well he said it was Kelly who confirmed the rumors. She was jealous I was getting more press over him."

"That bitch!."

"Yea. But I told him I wouldn't tell anyone including Charles."

"Why?. You could finally get him back for what he's done to you through the years. He wouldn't recover from this."

"I know and that's why I won't. And that goes to you too. Don't say a peep to anyone. Including Lando. Bless him, he a great friend but he has a big mouth."

" I know.." Rae giggled.

"Am I missing something?."

"Well.. That day you went out and I got bored I went to Landos and we were flirting and one thing led to another and we fucked. And boy does he eat..."

"EWWWWWW, please stop. I don't want to hear you talk about you sex adventures with Lando."

"Sorry and I hope you're not mad at me. He's your friend and colleague."

"Im not mad and to be honest he's been nagging me about asking you out for a while now. So go for it. You guys are like made for each other. Everyone sees it. We actually had a poll going around for how long it would take for one of you to make a move and I just won $800.", you laughed.

"First, thanks. Second, you should have told me before!. I would been sleeping with him sooner and third, that's mean!. You're splitting that money with me. Its only fair for your betrayal. And stop changing the subject, get on with it."

"Ok, that's fair. When I went to wash the dishes he stoped me and put his hand on my shoulder and I could feel his breath on me and he smelled so good. I felt like my body was on fire and I looked at him and I just wanted him to kiss me so bad. Maybe even fuck me right on the counter but then I stopped myself and walked away. When he was done he came to the living room and said he was leaving but I told him to stay."

"Why?."

"Well there was a storm and it looked dangerous and I didn't want him to get hurt and be responsible for it."

"Yea, sure.."

"What do you mean sure?"

"Be honest Y/n, you wanted him there."

"Uhhhhh, ok. I wanted him to stay. I just wanted to be around him longer."

"And?."

"I took him to the guest room and gave him some of Lewis's clothe to sleep in and told him if he needed me id be across the hall and then I left."

"And then??."

"And then nothing. He stayed there all night. But I swear at some point in the middle of the night I woke up and I heard the door knob jiggle but then nothing happened. Maybe I was hallucinating. I woke up made us breakfast, he came out and we spoke. He said he didn't know what he was going to do with Kelly, break up or try to work it out but for now we would be "Secret friends"."

"What a load of bullshit. Like that's not going to blow up on you guys."

"I know Rae. But if it means we could be friends, then I would take that risk. Then Kelly called and he walked away to speak to her and I couldn't overhear anything except him saying I love you. He looked conflicted when he came out of the bedroom and I asked if everything was ok and he said it was going to be. I don't know why but my heart dropped to my stomach. I walked him out and he looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. When he got in the elevator he looked up and said my name and I said his and the doors closed. Now I can't stop thinking about him. What am I going to do!!!."

"Girl, you're fucked."

"State the obvious Rae."

"Sorry I can't help it. I don't think you're in love with him. Maybe attracted, but not love. Perhaps the solution is getting rid of that pent up sexual frustration."

"What the hell are you talking about?."

"Lets be honest here. You haven't gotten some in a while. You know how the say you have to get under guy to get over one?. That's what you got to do!."

"Gosh Rae, you're insane. I just pour my heart out and you tell me to go find someone to fuck?."

"Well..yea. Trust me, this will fix your problem."

"I mean, I guess that could be a solution."

"No, not a guess. It will!."

"Ok, ok. No need to peer pressure me further, I get it. Ill try your way. But if it doesn't work, you owe me a lifetime supply of ice cream."

"Hey, not all of us are rich Formula 1 drivers. Just give it a try. If you ever need to talk, im here."

"I know, thanks. So I guess ill be seeing you at Bahrain with Lando?."

"Well I've been texting him and he asked me to come but I just wanted to talk to you before i pursued any further with him. Now that I know you're ok with it, I suppose I will see you!."

"Great. Im glad you'll be there with me. I honesty don't know what's going to happen when I see him but I hope he won't be like the old Max."

"We will just have to wait and see. If he tries anything ill tell Lando to crash into him." Rae laughed.

"Oh and you think he would do that for you?. Lando is super loyal to Mclaren."

"Im very persuasive if you know what I mean. He loves when I do this thing when I sit on his.."

"Rae I'm literally going to hang up!!"

"Sorry!! Sorry!!. I got your back is all I meant."

"I know. But I really got to get going. Im meeting up with Mick for lunch."

"Mick Schumacher?."

"Yea."

"Oh hes cute. I spoke to him one time at the Mercedes hospitality. He's sweet and funny."

"I see where you're going and im not going there. I've know him for a while and he's like a brother and he literally works for Mercedes too. Its not going to happen."

"Keep convincing yourself but I wouldn't be surprised if he had a thing for you. He's always posting you on IG congratulating you and just random pictures of you."

"Rae, you're looking to much into it."

"Ok, whatever you say. Now go get dressed for your date."

"Its not a date. Its lunch."

"Ok, go get ready for "lunch". Call me later, I want to hear all about it."

"I don't know what's to hear about but sure. Talk to you later, Love you."

"Love you more. Byeeeee."

————————————Call ended——————————————

Getting ready you couldn't stop thinking about how things have changed. That, you couldn't deny. Was it really love or lust. One way or another you would find out soon enough. Lets just hope it won't end in tragedy.

Previously

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @sadg3 @d3kstar @runs-with-sciss0rs

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

hey bff

you should write the general creeps with a scene partner pretty pretty please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hey love! Gotchu covered! I hope you enjoy <3

CREEPS WITH A SCENE S/O

JEFF THE KILLER

He would be upset it takes you FOREVER to get ready. Like why on earth should it take you so long?? He just gets out of bed in his crusty ass sweatshirt and calls it good so why can’t you too?

Eventually he’ll get used to it he just didn’t exactly understand the artistry behind it

He’d bring you bracelets and necklaces. But don’t you dare tell anyone he got it for you!!

You can get him stuff to wear but he’ll insist that he’s too good for it and it’ll ‘ruin his image’. Even though it’s literally just being disgusting. He’ll wear a necklace you give him under his sweater though

After a while he’ll get interested in your style and will let you do him up (IN PRIVATE).

If anyone makes fun of you he’d be the type to stand behind you and silently lift up his sweatshirt and show that he has a knife in his waistband or something. Absolutely no one fucks with you after that.

BEN DROWNED

Loves it but pretends to be casual about it yk? Like when you show up in a new outfit his response would be “Damn you look good babe.” But inside he’d be freaking the absolute fuck out.

Eventually he lets it slip that he thinks your style is super awesome and hot.

The kind of guy to help you pick outfits, colors, jewelry, makeup, all of it. He loves giving you his input! If you take it or not doesn’t really matter to him, it’s just the fact you took the time to listen to his ideas

Let’s you make him playlists and listens to them 24/7. Please tell the man your favorite songs.

He online shops for you 100%. Oh you saw something cute you wanted? Done. Bought.

Gives snarky remarks to people that make fun of you. “Well at least they have style. You look like you just got out of bed.”

EYELESS JACK

He’s neither here nor there about it. He’s happy as long as you’re happy. (And not wearing an obnoxious amount of perfume)

Watches you get ready every morning. He finds it very interesting the process and methods you have to get ready for the day.

He’ll proudly but silently wear whatever jewelry item you give him. Just make sure it’s not too obnoxious to the point it gets in the way of his work.

If you make him anything at all, it’s going on display in his room. No questions about it. Probably has a shrine of things you’ve made or accomplished. He’s so proud of you and he lets you know it.

Unfortunately he won’t let you dress him up or anything. He already doesn’t like how he looks and I think it would make him feel worse if you dressed him up.

But if someone makes fun of you? Ohhhh shiiiit. The whole room of creeps goes silent as they watch his fingers twitch as he decides what to do with them. Probably let’s it slide in the moment but he’ll find them later. He doesn’t want his precious darling to see him lose control.

LAUGHING JACK

Loves your style and shows you off to everyone. He’s eccentric himself so he loves when people have styles out of the ordinary.

Another one that finds you things to wear/ helps you get ready for the day.

He LOVES and absolutely wants to match with you every given chance he gets. You dyed your hair? Dye a piece of his too. You got new bracelets? Get him one too. Piercings? Get him fake ones he can glue on.

Not a huge fan of the music but he enjoys the lifestyle and the fashion. Would never ask you to change yourself in the slightest either

Probably asks Ben to buy him stuff to match with you for a surprise. Also loves surprising you with gifts!

If someone made fun of you I feel like he’d call them ‘boring’ and say something along the lines of “well that wasn’t very nice” :[

“TICCI” TOBY

Thinks you’re cute. Compliments you all the time too.

“Gosh y-you look cute today” “D-did I s-say you look cute yet today?” “Hey cutie”

Another one to wear anything you gift him proudly. “Yeah my partner made t-this for m-me.”

Will probably try to make you kandi stuff. He’ll fail miserably but hey at least he tried!

Get so involved in the culture. He’ll listen to the music, make playlists, try the clothes (even though he doesn’t like them on him), and will let you do his hair. 100% let’s you pierce whatever you want on him. He can’t feel it anyway 😉

Yells at people who make fun of you. Makes a whole ass scene. (lol see what I did there?) They’ll be so embarrassed from the absolute fiasco he makes that they’ll never say shit again. Bonus points if he throws a hatchet at them!

TIM/MASKY

Not a fan. Sorry guys, he’s not into all the edgy stuff.

He’ll probably try to convince you to tone it down a little bit if you’re going out together. I feel like he’s a little embarrassed when people stare at the both of you

He just gives me man from the south vibes, probably conservative so he’d rather live more modestly and domesticated.

Hopes it’s just a phase and you’ll grow out of it. He loves you though so no matter if you change or not he’ll stay with you. Personality over fashion!!

Eventually when he realizes you’re not changing he might start wearing jewelry you give him. Hard maybe on that one though. But if he does, he’s so protective of your gifts. If he loses them he’d be so upset. Like you probably wouldn’t see him for a few days.

And if someone makes fun of you? Shit gets violent. Don’t you dare talk about his angel like that. I’d be surprised if the person didn’t walk away with a broken bone or two.

BRIAN/HOODIE

Another secret lover. Like Ben, he thinks it’s cute. He’s much more touchy than vocal about it though.

Loves touching all the different materials of clothes you wear, the textures of your bracelets, your hair, all of it.

Will wear jewelry if you make it for him but it’s out of sight. But just know if you give it to him, he’s wearing it. Don’t expect to see it though.

Might let you pierce his eyebrow or his ears. Not as crazy as Toby with that but if you do enough convincing he miiight let you do other more prominent or risky piercings.

Definitely touches/ feels you up in a more sexual way in your outfits too. On top of your style being cute he thinks it’s pretty hot too. This man will fuck you in your clothes.

If someone fucks with you they’re getting a pipe to the head. No warning at all either.

[moodyhaaze]

❛ when you run into your ex… ❜ pt2 — younger bros

synopsis. it’s been years since you’ve seen your ex. but on an excursion to your hometown in the human world with your boy, you run into them…

tags. headcanon | slightly NSFW | gn!mc

< part 1 - older bros | part 3 - dateables >

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

— 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

I think would be pretty stoic about it because he knows you’re his. Doesn’t feel the need to even spare a glance at your ex… Until they do something stupid like approach you and place a hand on your arm. Then Satan is stood between the two of you telling them to fuck off. He gets pretty mad pretty quickly, saying things like “Touch them again and you’re dead!” while his horns begin to peak through his hair. It takes all of your strength and persuasive abilities to convince Satan to leave with you, but you’re finally able to get out of there with no bloodshed. Once you’re home Satan drags you to his room, pressing you against his bookshelves smothering you with kisses. “I won’t let them touch you again. Only I’m allowed to touch you. Tell me, tell me only I’m allowed to touch you…” Proceeds to plow you until you’re numb and can only think of him.

— 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎

just laughs. He keeps looking them up and down and can’t help but laugh. “This—” he says, pointing his finger at them, “This is your ex? Look at them, absolutely horrendous!” Asmo’s really playing it up, though, only because he’s actually incredibly pissed and doesn’t want to show it. He knows it’s a waste of time to get into an altercation because there’s better things to do with his time, but the longer he looks at them, the angrier he gets. “I can’t believe they had their filthy hands all over my precious darling. How disgusting,” He mumbles through gritted teeth. It’s rare to see Asmo worked up like this, but it’s oh so hot when he is. But to spare the bloodshed, you grab his hand and pull him the opposite direction. The look on his face is still pretty serious as you’re walking away, so you ask him if he’s okay. “Oh, of course I’m fine!” At least it seems he’s back to his normal bubbly self, “But I want us to stop by the shops and pick out a new lipstick for me. I want the prettiest shade we can find! Because tonight I’m going to be marking what’s mine.” His last few words spill with a certain venom that make a heat grow between your thighs. Asmo’s not letting you out of his sight today.

— 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋

couldn’t care less. Honestly. He is yours and you are is, he knows this and that’s enough for him. I think the only problem that could arise is if your ex tried to touch you. Then, all hell breaks loose. Other than that, he’s chill, though he really doesn’t want you talking to them nor does he want to. Beel won’t admit this, but what bothers him the most is the thought of somebody else having previously been intimate with you. But that just means he needs to make sure you never want to be with anyone else ever again. “Babe, I’m hungry,” Beel says, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you the opposite direction the two of you were walking. You insist on continuing the way you were already headed, mentioning the countless restaurants and food stands on the way. “No, I said I’m hungry.” Get ready to have your legs shaking and mind go numb for the next few hours.

— 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄

is possessive and isn’t afraid to show it. He’s too tired for theatrics like some of his brothers, so he keeps his hatred a little more low key. Like Beel, Belphie knows that you two belong together, so he has no fear of a past lover coming to sweep you away. So instead of wasting time with a brawl, an argument, or a grand show, Belphie simply grabs your arm and tugs you away as he shoots a deathly glare at your ex. You explain to him that it was rude to abruptly rip you away from your conversation, but Belphie shoots back, “So what? Why waste your time with them? We’re going home.” You try to argue but Belphie simply ignores you and continues to drag you back to the House. Once inside, your brought to the attic and guided towards the bed where Belphie barely gives you enough time to kick your shoes off before throwing himself over you for an impromptu nap. You shout at him to at least let you get comfortable, but he instead nuzzles into you, his arms snaked around your shoulders possessively. “You’re mine. You don’t get to waste our time together on your ex. We’re staying here in bed until I feel like you understand.” You figured that was the end of it, until you felt something hard against your thigh.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

© moodyhaaze | 07•10•23 — do not repost, modify, plagiarize, or translate my writings. likes + reblogs appreciated.

cross posted to ao3.

[madlittlecriminal]

Jonathan Crane request where reader is a student of his (professor Crane au ish) and also happens to be the daughter of a certain millionaire in Gotham 👀

love the idea that Bruce is with Selena at this point and when he finds out about reader and Jonathan he like

“you can’t date someone with a criminal alter ego!!”

and she’s just like “really?” As she points to Selena (who’s still in her Catwoman outfit) sitting on the couch.

Meanwhile Jason is standing on the sidelines like “date who you want sis but if he makes the slightest mistake I will kill him and pretend I always thought this was a bad idea”

Hypocrites ↦ Professor!Jonathan Crane × Student!Female!Reader

so, i don't normally write for comic accurate scarecrow/jonathan crane and I don't watch Gotham, nor do I watch Titans as I'm more of a Chrisopher Nolan kinda gal, so i apologize for any errors, BUT in my head, I'm still thinking of Christian Bale, Anne Hathaway & Cillian Murphy when I write this, so once again, I apologize

Warnings: mention of getting robbed, mention of guns, reader is Wayne's adopted daughter :)

Being a Wayne had its advantages as well as its disadvantages. Anyone who saw you, assumed you were daddy's little girl, when in reality, you weren't. He never treated you differently than his sons, except for when it came to relationships as he didn't want you to be a female version of him, however, he didn't think you would come out to be in a relationship with your professor who just so happens to be the villain he's been after.

You told your dad and Selina that you had a boyfriend and while they were ecstatic, the disgust on your father's face didn't go unnoticed when Jonathan Crane came through the doors of the mansion.

First, your dad had no idea that Professor Crane was Jonathan Crane as he thought it was a funny coincidence. Second, he was taken aback that his daughter decided to get in a relationship with her professor out of all people. Selina wasn't there as she was out doing who knows what, but you didn't complain as you knew your father was in love with her just as much as she loved him.

Plus, you witnessed their flirting when he was dressed as Batman the one time, they saved you from getting robbed. It disturbed you, but you didn't say anything. You thought out of all people, your father would be understanding, but he wasn't, and it was kind of annoying.

Jonathan rested a hand on your knee, reassuring you that no matter what, he'd be there for you. "You know dad, I would've thought you, out of all people, would understand." He tilted his head to the side. "What's that supposed to mean?" You shook your head, deciding not to spill his secret, especially knowing the truth about Jonathan. However, when he gave you a kiss before he left, your father nearly went crazy. Then, Selina came home and tilted her head to the side. "Everything okay, Bruce?"

"(Y/N) is with Jonathan Crane!" Selina gasped before taking off her head piece. "Really?" You glare at the both of them and scoff. "You better not give me a lecture about this!" She sat on the couch to remove her boots and raised an eyebrow. "Why not?! Sweetheart, he's a villain!" You suck your teeth, your anger bubbling. "Dad, why does it matter?! You're with a villain too, are you not?" Selina raised her eyebrows in disbelief at your words and Bruce rolled his eyes. "She's an anti-villain, first of all,"

"You know I do bad for good (Y/N)." You run a hand down your face. "Unbelievable. I thought you would understand, dad!" He shrugged as a scoff escaped his lips. "Well, I don't, sorry (Y/N)." Jason cleared his throat. "If I may, I have your back through this little sis, but like, if he breaks your heart, I'll pretend I was on Bruce and Selina's side this whole time. How does that sound?" Bruce glares at his son. "What?" Jason shrugs. "Hey, I'm not gonna Romeo and Juliet this whole thing, okay? If she's happy, I don't care! He just better not break her heart. My guns are always oiled and cleaned."

[player1064]

kate for someone reason thinking jamie is homophobic not sure why or how but she does (sara has me obsessed with the idea that they can’t stand each other now lol) and then him introducing her to gary and she’s like 🤯 ft. micah in the corner like you didn’t know he never shuts up about him???

god Kate and Jamie literally CANNOT STAND EACH OTHER!!! I'm OBSESSED with that dynamic tbh!!!!!!! As always. this one is much longer than intended...

Also, don't need to have read it but this is technically intended to tie in to my fic Happy wife, happy life (but tldr Jamie regularly calls Gary his wife partly to keep their relationship under wraps but mostly bc. he finds it funny to call Gary his wife.)

---

“Obviously we’re done for the season right before pride month kicks off,” one of the CBS producers is saying, eyes darting over something on an iPad. “And since you four have been pretty popular we were thinking of including you in some of those ad campaigns, so if I could just get some dates off of all of you –”

“No,” Jamie says immediately.

All three of his colleagues snap their heads up to him, but only Kate looks at him coolly and says “no?”

Micah, because he’s Micah, chuckles and slaps Jamie in the shoulder, trying to diffuse some of the new tension in the air. “Not like you to turn down extra cash, Carra.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, pretends not to notice the way Kate’s eyes are burning into him. “Check my contract. Wish I could, honest,” he says to the producer, feeling very very glad that he had a clause added to his contract specifically so that he doesn’t have to take part in things like this, “But it just wouldn’t be do-able. You lot ‘ave fun, though, with yer rainbows and yer glitter.”

Kate just looks at him incredulously. “This is one thing you decide to take a stand on, mister ‘I don’t care about politics’?”

Rainbows just don’t really suit Jamie, is the thing. Nor does the extra scrutiny that comes from wearing rainbows.

Doesn’t really matter to him what Kate thinks of him, though, so he just shrugs and continues packing up his stuff for the day.

*

“Jamie – Jamie, I finally got onto Raya, can you have a look at my profile?”

Jamie looks up at Micah with a frown. “What the fuck is a Raya?”

“It’s a dating app,” Kate says from her end of the desk, in that unimpressed tone of hers that makes Jamie wonder why she’s bothering to insert herself into the conversation at all.

“An exclusive dating app,” Micah corrects, wiggling his phone in front of Jamie.

“Weren’t you already seeing someone?” asks Jamie, but he accepts the phone with a sigh and puts his glasses on. “I don’t – I’ve never used one of these things, what am I meant to be lookin’ at?”

Micah shrugs. “Didn’t work out,” he says breezily. “How have you never used a dating app, you’ve not been married that long. And look at yourself, you can’t tell me you weren’t a player before Mrs Carra came along.”

Jamie had got around a bit, in his playing days. Not much, mind, because he’d had to be careful, but he’d done alright. Unfortunately – and this is not something he’ll ever admit to anyone, even under duress – any thoughts of that had gone out the window the moment he’d walked onto the Sky campus after retiring.

“You’re right,” he says with a wink, “look at me. As if I’d need an app to find myself a bird. Why’d you want me to look at this, I’m not exactly your target audience. ‘less there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ us,” he adds, elbowing Micah and waggling his eyebrows.

Kate looks on unimpressed as the two of them double over in laughter. “Not that any of us would have a problem if you were, right Jamie?” she says haughtily.

Jamie catches Micah’s eye and has to fight back another bout of laughter. “Dunno,” he says, “I can think of one or two problems I’d ‘ave if Big Meeks here suddenly tried hittin’ on me.”

Micah bursts out laughing again, his hand clapping to Jamie’s forearm, and Jamie can’t help but join in – it’s infectious, okay?

“God,” Micah says, wiping a tear from his eye, “can you imagine how your missus would react. I’d never be able to work in television again.”

“Nah, she’d prob’ly send you a fruit basket, thank you for taking me off ‘er hands.”

Kate clears her throat and the two of them sober immediately at the sight of her raised eyebrow. “Maybe cool it with the outdated banter,” she says, “or do I need to remind you boys that you’re not in a dressing room anymore?”

She storms off, he heels click-clicking away as Jamie and Micah look at each other and try (and fail) not to start laughing again.  

*

“You didn’t want to bring your wife to the end of season party, then?” Kate asks politely, looking slowly around the room.

“Huh?” Jamie says eloquently, because he’s had a couple of glasses of prosecco and he’s not thinking as quickly as he usually might. “Oh, the missus. Yeah, she’s here but  – I dunno, she’s a bit shy, like. You didn’t invite Malik?”

Kate rolls her eyes, the way she always does when Jamie mentions her boyfriend. “Well, he lives in America. So.”

“Carra,” an annoying voice calls from just behind him, “Carra, come over ‘n meet Schmeichel? I’ve not seen ‘im in years, d’you know, I think I’d forgot how tall he was.”

Jamie puts a hand on the small of Gary’s back to keep him from bouncing around too much (the man is such a lightweight, it’s embarrassing), and says “I’ve already met Peter, you dolt. I work with ‘im, remember?”

Gary squints at him for a second. “You drag me all the way down to London, and then y’can’t even be bothered to –” he finally seems to realise that Jamie had been talking to someone, because he quickly shakes his head around a bit and holds a hand out to Kate with a smile. “You’re Kate, right? I love what you do on the show, honest, I’m always sayin’ people need to be meaner to James here.”

Jamie thinks he sees Kate blush a bit, like she hadn’t realised anyone else had noticed her dislike of Jamie, but she takes Gary’s offered hand anyway. “And of course you’re the famous Gary Neville, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she greets. “But aren't you still with Sky? What brings you to our little operation here?”

“Scopin’ out the competition,” he says with a wink, then turns back to Jamie. “Carra – Peter?”

“I said no! I’ll talk to him later, stop badgerin’ me.”

“Did you two travel down from Manchester together?” asks Kate, “You know, Jamie seems so invested in my relationship but none of us have ever met his wife, do you know where she’s got to?”

“Ah, his fuckin’ wife,” Gary mutters, smirking up at Jamie. Jamie winks in reply and slips his hand down a bit to pinch him on the arse.

Micah comes over, his tuxedo strained against his biceps, and he pulls Gary away from Jamie to throw an arm around his shoulder in a half-hug.

(Gary squirms a bit at the unexpected contact, but he still gives Micah a friendly pat on the chest.)

“Big Nev! It’s been ages, man – Jamie told us you were coming, but he’s promised that before and not delivered.”

“Been pretty busy, up in Manchester,” Gary says with a shrug, carefully extracting himself from under Micah’s arm and returning to Jamie’s side. “But I’m obliged to do the plus one thing at least two –” (“Three,” Jamie corrects,) “—fine, three times a year, and I figure there’re worse places to be.”

“Aw, you love it really,” Micah says. “I’ve always kind of wondered what it’s like to be a WAG.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “It’s a thankless job, to be fair.” He pokes Jamie in the bicep and adds “I’m going back to talk t' Peter, you miserable old twat. Honest, I’m always talkin' to Scousers fer you.”

“I already know –” Jamie starts to protest, but Gary’s already wandered off. “Ugh. Sorry about ‘im. You can’t take Mancs anywhere, can ya?”

The two Mancs he’s talking to look at him, unimpressed.

“He seemed nice,” Kate says carefully.

“He’s not,” Jamie replies.

*

“Good summer?” Micah asks, their first show back after the break.

“Brilliant,” Jamie replies with a grin. “It were my turn to choose the destination, so –”

“Ibiza?”

He nods. “Ibiza. The house was done just in time, too.”

“You know, I can’t really imagine Gary in Ibiza.”

“Oh, he hates it. Complained the whole time, but he does that wherever we go.”

He becomes aware that Kate is watching them from across the desk, not trying to hide that she’s listening to their conversation with curiosity. Jamie nods to her, all polite like. “Hows about you, Kate, good summer?”

“It was fine, I –” she shakes her head. “Sorry, you’re saying you go on holiday with Gary Neville?”

Micah scoffs. “Who else would he go with?” he asks, and Jamie points to him in agreement.

“I dunno, his wife?”

Jamie blinks.

He thought he’d got all this out the way, dragging Gary along to the party a couple of months ago. Apparently not.

“Gary is my wife,” he says, then suddenly feels very stupid saying that to someone who’s not already in on the joke, so he corrects to “my husband, I mean. Obviously he’s not – he’s a man. Obviously.”

Kate’s eyes are wide, unblinking. She looks between Jamie and Micah, lips pressed together while her brain seems to be buffering.

“You’re married to a man?” she says eventually. “But you’re not gay, I mean – you’re –”

Jamie, who last time he checked definitely was gay, raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’m what?”

“You’re a footballer,” she attempts, and oh, this is far too easy.

“Bit ‘omophobic, that, sayin’ footballers can’t be gay,” he replies, holding back a smirk.

“Oh shut up, you know what I – you’re a lad! You’re always with the banter, and the…”

Thierry wanders over, freshly brewed cup of tea in hand. “What have you two done this time?” he asks, looking pointedly at Jamie and Micah.

Jamie raises his hands to protest his innocence.

“Thierry,” Kate asks, reaching a hand out towards him, “did you know Jamie’s married to a man?”

Thierry rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fucking Neville,” he replies, and goes to sit down.

[dixonsgirl93]

Opposites and Opportunities (Sfw)

Merle x ace fem!reader

:Request from anon:

A/N: I've stated before that I personally am not ace, nor do I know anyone who is. I hope I did this enough justice. Feedback would be appreciated so I can improve. Thank you and enjoy!

"Listen, Merle. You're wasting your efforts on me. I'm not interested." You turn to fully face him now. "And it's not because of your charmingly brash personality or your wickedly handsome face. That sort of thing just doesn't interest me." You turn away again.

"Doesn't interest you, huh? What? Having a good time is not something you like?" Merle called after you from the stairs.

You sigh and face him again. "Sex. I mean sex. I've never cared for it. All right?" You feel yourself go red in the face and then silently berate yourself. So what if you didn't like the idea of sex? It's nothing to be ashamed about, you remind yourself.

"Maybe you just haven't met the right guy yet!" He continued and you resigned yourself to the fact he was really not gonna let this go.

"People always say that. As if sex is so important to be having in your adult life. Maybe I don't want to find the right man. Maybe for the last few years I've tried to like the idea because everyone around me and the media has told me I should? I've only recently come to terms with who I am and no one...no one...is going to change me."

Merle held up his hands (metal and normal) in surrender and smirked. "I didn't mean any harm, babygirl. I can't say I understand though." He rested his arms on the pole in front of him again and looked down at you.

"You don't have to understand it, just respect it." You walk away, back to your cell.

~~

Later that day Merle finds you outside and approaches you.

"Hey. Mind if I join yer?" He asks. You motion for him to sit and does and looks out at the darkness. "Do you think it's more or less scary when you can't see 'em out there?" He nods towards the fences.

You follow his gaze and think about it. "Depends which side of the fence you're on." You reply.

Merle chuckles. "Good answer." He pauses. "So anyway, about our conversation earlier, about you not liking sex...uh, why not? I mean, have you always felt that way?" You see genuine curiosity in his eyes and it surprises you. He actually wants to learn.

You look down at the table and frown, thinking about how to phrase your answer. "I can't really explain it, it just...doesn't appeal to me. It seems kinda gross, honestly. Sharing so many bodily fluids." You make a face at the thought.

Merle watches your reaction. "So...you're a germaphobe? Is that it? God help you in this mess. Walker fluids are worse, honey." He laughs to himself, again looking out at the fence. It was too dark to see anything and you wondered how many walkers were standing just out of reach.

You can’t help but smile at his answer. “Well, that is true. It’s not just the germs though, the whole act of…” You gesture wildly with your hands. “…of sex, that I don’t like.”

Merle watched you try to explain and looked away again. “I still don’t get it. Maybe I’m just too horny to.” He chuckles and shrugs. “But hey, you do you, I guess.”

“Thanks.” You say and place a hand on his metal arm. “I underestimated you. I didn’t think you’d…be so understanding. I especially didn’t think you’d be so curious about it.” You say, looking in the distance.

There’s a short pause. “Gotta be honest, I thought you were lying at first to get me off ya back. I’d get it. I can be a lot for some folk.”

You look at him for a moment but say nothing. What could you say to that? It was true and it felt like he was opening up to you. You knew it must be a rare thing too, knowing the kind of person he was, or at least, who he showed the world he was.

“I still…” You begin to say and then pause, wondering if it was a good idea to divulge this information. “I still feel romantic attraction.” You admit.

“Oh yeah? That’s where I fail. Don’t think I can do that mushy crap.”

“To quote you earlier 'maybe you just haven't met the right person'." You look at him knowingly, with a smirk. Merle turns to you laughs.

"Hell, maybe you're right." He admits. "Even less of a chance to find her now though, don't ya think?" His expression turned sombre for just a moment.

"True." There's a long moment of silence again, just sitting in each other's company, letting the weight of the moment sink in. "Maybe there's still a chance. I mean, we're not dead yet." You smiled encouragingly at him but you couldn't quite feel the hope for a future like that in your heart.

Merle just chuckled and stood up. "Anyway, thanks for the chat, Y/N. Have a good night." He winked and walked back inside.

[bunitivity]

Tender ZoSopp moment after a big fight with a wounded Zoro resting on Usopp's lap, and he's giving him a light massage to his temples and neck and Zoro wakes up to Usopp smiling at him because he protected them all again

"You look... safe... " Zoro says

And Usopp laughs a little "I am safe, thanks to you"

"I mean... you... safety" and Zoro falls asleep again (Chopper nearby still treating his wounds probably)

And Usopp's words caught up on his throat because being the protector's safe place means so much to him

😭😭 I'm not a writer, if you or anyone else wants to expand on that, pls do, I just always get really emotional to the thought of Usopp being (any of the Monster Trio)'s person they feel safe with, specially after a big fight

Oh this is so😭😭😭 Usopp being Zoro’s safe space is everything to me omg!!! That’s so!!! Just thinking about Usopp never having thought about Zoro romantically until that point not until getting hit with a line like that and being thrown completely off kilter like wtf is that supposed to mean?? That was a joke right right? he was just joking around he couldn’t really have meant that he Usopp was making him Zoro of all people feel safe?? But then he remembers the utter sincerity in his voice as he said it. Zoro doesn’t lie. So what does it mean??

Usopp’s heart is just a mess after that and he cannot stand being around Zoro. It might just kill him. Just a brush of their hands was almost enough to send him into a cardiac arrest and then there’s his laugh.

Usopp fears it might be enough to end him.

You would think a stoic serious guy like Zoro wouldn’t laugh that much if ever but he does and it’s often at the stupidest things. And those stupid things sometimes happened to be him. Usually Usopp wouldn’t stand for that but now he thinks he can afford to be a little stupid if it means he gets to hear Zoro laugh.

Even if it kills him.

So he cannot be around him. And so Usopp does what he does best. He runs away. Not completely. He’s still there at the fringes. Has his foot just inside the room so to speak. He will still see Zoro at the dinner table, in their room and other places on the ship as long as others are around. They just can’t be alone.

That just means that he won’t be working on the grassy deck of the sunny and suddenly find Zoro leaning into him asking him what he’s up to or just falling asleep against him. Nor will they nap together under the shade of a tree. Nor will he let Zoro use his lap as a pillow. Nor will they be shooting the shit late at night looking up at the stars. Nor will Usopp get to laugh as Zoro tries and fails to map out constellations. Nor will he get to tell him how hopeless he is and that it doesn’t matter if Zoro doesn’t know his left from his right because Usopp will always be there to find him.

He will lose a lot of things but he thinks that what he’s protecting is more important right?

It’s after another fight. Zoro is lost again. No one can find him. Usopp isn’t worried because why would he be? This is par for the norm. But then Usopp does find him and his heart drops out of his chest.

“Zoro?”

He’s on the ground looking badly injured completely still. It almost looks like he’s napping. Almost.

Usopp kneels down beside him and tries to shake him awake.

“Zoro?”

He does not answer.

“Zoro this isn’t funny open your eyes…” Usopp’s hair is loose it’s all in his face. “You’re supposed to be the strongest of us what are you doing.” He tries to brush his hair back but it keeps falling back clinging his face. “You can’t just let a chump like that take you out.” Great now it’s getting all in Zoro’s face but Usopp lets it maybe it’ll annoy him enough to make him wake him. “You haven’t become the world’s best swordsman remember? You still haven’t bested Mihawk yet so you can’t just not… Wake. Up!”

Usopp does not want his last words to him to be… when was the last time he actually talked to Zoro?? Had he been avoiding him for so long that he couldn’t even remember?? Was his last words just… nothing?

Usopp doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sees his tears splatter all over on Zoro’s face. Fuck.

Usopp regrets so much.

All the moments they had are overshadowed by all the ones they didn’t get to have because he was coward and so so afraid. Of what? Of being found out? His stupid feelings shouldn’t have prevented him from just being his friend. Just being his friend had been enough and should been enough. But now he’ll never even get that. Now all Usopp gets all the things he is left with are those moments that could have been, the ones that should have been and all the ones that will never be.

He gets nothing.

Usopp crumples. He gathers Zoro up in his arms holding him and placing his head in his lap just like that moment so long ago. And says “please don’t… not yet…”

He feels a hand on his cheek sweeping away his tears and his eyes snaps open and he sees Zoro looking grouchy and confused and so very awake and he screams.

“Zoro!”

“Argh don’t be so loud I’ve a headache.”

“Stupid you don’t get say that after making me think you’re dead!”

Zoro cracks a smile. “Is that why you’re crying? I was wondering who I had to beat up.”

Usopp grabs the hand that still on his face. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not beating anyone up the way you are now.”

Zoro just hums as he closes his eyes and just nuzzles closer and gets more comfortable. “I missed this.”

Usopp ruffles the green his hair and smiles. “Me too.”

“Finally gotten tired of avoiding me.”

Usopp’s grip tightens in his hair but he immediately lets go once Zoro bristles with pain. “Sorry.”

"Sorry for pulling my hair or sorry for avoiding me?"

“It’s not you.”

“What is it then?”

When Usopp doesn’t answer Zoro just pulls him close until their foreheads are almost touching.

“Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I want to hear it.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It matters. To me.”

Usopp twists his lips. But there’s only so long he can lie. So long he can withhold the truth. So of course it comes gushing out when he least wants it to. The dam that’s his lie finally gives. It has been breaking for a long time now. It just takes just one nudge from Zoro and that look in his eye and that hand that’s still wiping away his tears. And he breaks.

“I love you.”

Zoro’s eyes widens and Usopp knows he’s made a mistake but then they soften so maybe not and oh he laughs and maybe just maybe this is worth everything.

“Took you long enough.”

Usopp’s eyes well up with tears again. “I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Then he kisses him. And they kiss again and again. Because they’re happy to be alive. To be here together and with each other and in love and because when Usopp isn’t busy being a coward he can brave. Usopp can be brave. And he gets to have this and all the moments that could be, going to be and will ever be. Now and forever.

“Oh before I forget.”

“What?”

Zoro smiles so softly and also so smugly because he’s a bastard and yet Usopp can’t help but love him because he’s stupid and also the smartest man alive.

“I love you too.”

Usopp smiles.

He gets to have it all.

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty five : huang renjun

S I D E : A

word count : 1.1k

warnings : angsty

As always, the air is full of tension. Not even heated nor filled with tension. He blows an awkward breath before leaning all of his weight onto his palms. You guys haven’t fought all day and even though that would usually be something to rejoice over, it feels like you’re walking on eggshells. 

“So,” Renjun starts, tonguing his cheek, “How was your day?” 

“Good,” You murmur, fiddling with your fingers. 

He shuts his eyes tightly before leaning down to kiss you, letting his kiss pull you upwards to meet his. Naturally his hand falls to your waist, bringing you in closer to him. Your eyes flutter shut, following his ministrations to the best of your ability. 

Unable to follow along, you pull away, staring at his doe like eyes that you love so much. Like homemade warm bread. So gentle and beautiful. 

Ruined. 

You don’t know where it went wrong. 

Possibly at the reminder that although you love Huang Renjun, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with you. Your body struggles to accept otherwise. There’s always another in the back of your head… 

And he knows it. 

God, does it break your heart that he knows it. 

Your relationship once a solace escaped from reality, now an added problem in which you feel in debt to him. In debt to the happiness Renjun deserves and somehow, one that you can’t seem to truly give him.

In Renjun’s case, you don’t know why he tries. But he does. You love that even more. You love him a little fonder than you’ve loved anyone else. 

Curious to the point of no return. 

Why are you so fond of this boy and the relationship that has turned cold and distant and wrong. Why? 

Why is he so fond of you? 

You know it’s mostly the burning questions. The curiosities of why fuel the two of you. At least on your end, you know that to be somewhat of the truth. 

Because with the amount of times your friends have talked to you about letting Renjun go and to find someone else. Barely understanding your obsession to make it work. To answer these questions. To keep him. 

Chenle, especially, can't understand it. He warns you at times that it reminds him of Jisung and you’re saddened by it. Promising yourself that nobody will ever have to feel what his best friend did again. 

Haechan, especially, can't understand it. He watches carefully but he doesn’t say anything. Perhaps wanting to find the answers to the questions you’re asking again. 

Mark, well- 

“I saw your friend today,” Renjun comments, “The loud mouth one. He invited me to a dinner that’s happening tomorrow.” 

“Oh-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks hurt. He looks angry. Disappointed, a little upset. But he lets you talk because he can’t stand the thought of fighting with you after not being invited like he’s a little boy. 

But he’s fucking hanging by a thread, here. 

“I was going to mention it but I would rather just stay here. With you.” 

Renjun almost flinches back in disgust, “It’s his birthday and I know you love him and I know you want to go.” 

“I don’t want to fight,” You say. 

“And I do?” Frustration seeps into the whole of his face and his voice. 

“Okay, okay then we’ll go,” You agree. He breathes heavily, calming himself down. You reach out to hold onto his fingers, grounding him. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, genuine and sincere. Though you can’t stop how heavy your heart feels for something as small as this getting to you like it does. 

The next morning, you rush out to buy something small for Haechan. Something he’d appreciate more than anything and something that doesn’t have an expiration date. Renjun picked out the card. 

He was cute about it. Smiling into your hair as the florist complimented you both as a good looking couple. You went out for lunch and he paid with his arm wrapped loosely around his waist and you cuddled into him as you walked down the boulevard. 

Though all these good things seem to diminish at the dinner table. 

The table was silent, save for little conversations here and there. Seemingly only able to get awkward as time goes on. 

“How are the potatoes?” Donghyuck coughs and if it hadn’t been awkward before it was laughingly even more awkward. 

“Good,” Renjun nods, “Good. Uhh the flowers?” 

“Good. Good, yeah they’re beautiful,” The loud mouth nods. Chenle snorts at how uncharacteristically quiet the birthday boy seems. 

“Where did you get them from?” Mark wonders aloud, maintaining eye contact. Renjun pauses chewing and stares at the man in front of him silently. 

“The Plant Bowl,” Renjun answers, “It’s by the-“ 

“Textile district,” Mark pitches in, “Yo that’s really nice. It always makes my nose itch over there.” 

“I’m the same,” Renjun laughs, “Y/N had to take me to get antihistamines beforehand and I almost had to book an appointment for an allergy shot if things went really haywire.” 

Chenle watches the scene interestedly, fork hanging off his bottom lip. 

Mark chuckles, “I get that. She’s really cute about it too.” 

All of a sudden there’s a nasty pause in the air, and both Haechan and Chenle are grateful you missed the silent interaction as Renjun sizes the older boy up, politeness melting away as Mark takes a glance at you. 

He swears it’s just a glance, but Renjun can see his longing and his fondness and he knows exactly where he’s seen it before. 

On you. 

It’s all he needs to be done with it. The months of you both together feel like such a waste and he’s trying to keep his anger at bay. Keep it as dormant as possible to have this conversation in private… 

He drops his knife and fork with a clang that rings in his ears and the grit of his teeth seems to screech and echo across the hallway, anger palpable. 

“I’ve actually got to go, I think, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Renjun murmurs, standing up from the table. You’re wide eyed as you try to tidy up and follow him only to be stopped with a short, “Stay here.” 

“Do you want me to bag up the potatoes or anything?” Haechan asks. 

“….” Renjun keeps quiet, not wanting to ruin Haechan’s birthday because of his own anger, “No.” 

Renjun doesn’t look at you or Mark or Chenle and can only spare a small smile at Haechan even when he doesn’t fucking want to. 

When the door slams, Chenle speaks up for the first time this evening. 

“I told you.” 

S I D E : B

THE SERIAL LOVER

in which a girl farewells every boy she’s ever loved (or at least had romantic feelings for) in order to prove that her feelings for one particular boy are very real and unwavering. 

chapter twenty five : huang renjun

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[barb-l]

y’all hear me out: sinner Adam and Clara Carmine. *BOOM, explosions* 💥 🎇

This is the definition of a crack ship if I’ve ever seen one. you guys might be wondering about the inspiration for this? Well, season two of the US television show ‘Euphoria,’ with the crazy ass Cassie/nate storyline. lol.

Think about it: Clara is out running errands for her mother (going out and looking/shopping for new parts for her mother’s weapons for improving them, doing expeditions around Pentagram city for whatever reason, or just going out shopping in general) and she’s spotted by Adam. Adam being the horn dog he is, makes his move and propositions her. This can be without knowing who she is since he is still new to Hell or it can take place after he’s been there for a bit and knows of the overlords there.

Anywho, he flirts and talks about her crop top and hot pants, invites her to his place (wherever that may be), and just outright lusts over her and brags about himself. Of course, she declines and goes on about her business. Time passes and one day, Clara has a big argument with her mom about how overprotective she is and that she feels smothered. In the middle of arguing, Clara storms out before Carmilla and Odette can catch her. Carmilla insists that they go look for her, but Odette tells her mother that they should give her space and that Clara’ll come back when she’s all cooled down (kind of like Charlie did in episode 4). Carmilla reluctantly agrees, but is still feeling uneasy.

while Clara is out, wandering Pentagram city in anger, she finds a bus stop bench and sits on it. Mulling the argument over in her head and her frustration with her mom, she begins to cry. She’s crying so much that she doesn’t notice that someone’s walked up

in front of her.

It’s Adam. He says something like, 

“what’s with all the tears, babe?” 

Startled, Clara looks up at him and sniffs. She ignores the ‘nickname’ and wipes her eyes, then lets out a choked, “My… my mother and I kind o—of got into a fight.” Call it her being too emotional  to think clearly, but why did she just tell him that?

Adam’s brow furrow. “A fight?” He thinks for a moment, then it clicks, “wait, you’re Carmine’s kid, aren’t ya?”

That leads Clara to squeeze her eyes shut with a grimace and confirm his thoughts. They then go back and forth with questions and answers; Adam asks, Clara answers. He then asks her if she wants to walk a bit and take her mind out of it - to clear her head. She immediately says no and questions why he thinks she would want to go or do anything with him of all people. He replies that he can’t do anything to anyone down here since he has no power, nor is he interested in harming her in any way because he knows Carmilla would kill him with no problem. They are in Hell, so nothing’s off the table with that. 

“Just trust me.”

Trust him. Trust him? Bah! “Yeah, no thanks, Adam,” she dismisses with a wary tone and an eye roll.

“Ah, come on - I don’t bite, girlie. And I’m sure I can’t do anything worse than what that ‘fight’s’ done to you.” He sees Clara’s frown get deeper and tilts his head back a bit. “Okay, fine. Your choice, babe.” He walks off and leaves her to watch his back as he makes his way down the sidewalk. She turns her gaze back to lap and thinks it over: she can stay here and sulk and then go back home and awkwardly face her mother and give an even more awkward apology, or she could take Slimy Adam up on his offer and actually talk about how she feels and get rid of these pent-up emotions before she goes back. when in the heat of the moment, the mind can make the body do funny things because she stands up from her seat and makes her way behind him, then beside him.

They walk in silence before Adam asks her if she feels a bit better. She shakes her head, then ever so softly says, “I just…it’s my mom. I get that she cares about my sister and I and just wants to keep us safe, but it can be a bit…much, you know?” She pauses. “Or maybe you don’t know.” Realizing her mistake, she gasps and widens her eyes in embarrassment. “Or…you do because you were a parent once and— ugh..sorry.” She puts a hand to her forehead and sighs, exhausted. “I’m really just—“ 

She hears Adam snort and looks to him. “Nah, it’s fine. I get it, though. Eh, your mom, I mean. I wanted nothing more than to keep my sons safe, and, well, I couldn’t even do that. Shit.” 

She knows what he’s referencing and can’t help but feel even more helpless. She tells him that what happened wasn’t his fault but Adam stays silent. Soon after, they talk again about Hell and his time there, how she’s used to her home and the expected along with the unexpected that comes with it, and turn the conversation back to her mother. Little by little, she feels the sadness and frustration ebb away as she walks and talks with Adam and then they make it back to Carmine Industries. Clara thanks Adam, but hastily tells him to leave lest he wants to be obliterated by her mom and sister.

His eyes get as big as craters. “Shit! That’s right! Uh, bye …or whatever.” He turns and runs off the property and Clara can hear him say “how the fuck do I get back home?” She turns back to the entryway and watches the door slide open after typing the code into the pinpad. Before she takes a step in, she thinks on her walk-and-talk with Adam and lets the corner of her lip curl in a subtle smile.

Whew, this was long, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a bit. 😂😅 this ‘relationship’ is shocking, toxic, and messy - just like Nate and Cassie’s. 😂

I’m sure you probably think I’m crazy for this, but that’s the point of crack ships, right? ;) The ex-leader of the Exorcist army and the daughter of Carmilla Carmine?! This has so much potential to be maddeningly good. 😂

I'm sorry, I mean this with no disrespect, but you may need to relay this concept to somebody else. Maybe to an Adam stan, bcuz I'm not a big enough fan of him to wanna think about shipping him with anyone