#to which she’s probably respond with something like ‘exactly. and I’m trying to keep her from dying of boredom’

[herearedragons]

Okay, but… what if Secret Hawke wasn’t a mage.

What if her attention-drawing, humorous attitude was not a way to cope with the stressful reality of being an apostate, but a distraction tactic. That’s right, look at me, listen to me, laugh with me. Keep looking at me.

Don’t look at my sister.

[highvern]

YUCK

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive moments

warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy

Length: ~2.9k

Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable. 

You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact). 

It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him. 

You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.

Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.

Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.

“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway. 

She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.

You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.

“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor. 

Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.” 

“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”

“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.” 

“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?” 

“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought.  “When was the last time you showered?” 

“I don’t know. Like two days ago?” 

“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though. 

“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.” 

“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.” 

“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.” 

Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.

“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch. 

You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.

“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.” 

You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?” 

Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.” 

You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.

“I can do that on my own,” you argue. 

The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.

“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”

He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close. 

How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.

Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.

When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.

“Hmmm?” 

“I said, it’s time to get out.”

More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.

“Alright, arms up,” he commands. 

You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.

“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head. 

“And you call me a freak?”

Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.

You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet. 

Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him. 

And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.

“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”

The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.

After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance. 

“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Because I like you.” 

Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.

You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.

“Why?” 

“Because I just do.” 

Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not. 

“I don’t date.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.

“You aren’t gonna argue?” 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.” 

You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.” 

“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”

“Deal with the devil.”

He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.

“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”

“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”

“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.

“It really wasn’t any trouble.”

It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.

“I’m tired,” you tell him. 

The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way. 

You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.

Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.

“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.

“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”

You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does. 

I sleep better when you’re here.

You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.

It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.

What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirteen

authors note: welp. the gala is finally here, friends! i hope you enjoy. well, the enjoyable parts.

ya'll remember that promo where kevin and sami tried to jump roman and he was furious, throwing shit out the ring, yelling at solo to position sami for the spear? that's how angry our collective favorite grump gets in this one...

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

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of torture, fighting violence, language, angst, fluff, livid roman, and discussion regarding family loss.

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

masterlist

words: 11k

“Guys, is this really necessary?”

Truth be told, Solana already knows how both of her friends are going to respond. Bayley, however, is the one who briefly rips her focus from finding an x-large size in the top to the matching bottoms she’s picked out for Solana.

“It absolutely is necessary.” She takes a second to gesture to Solana’s outfit for the day. “You’ve come so far in so many ways, including not hiding your body as much, so we have to keep that going.”

“Exactly,” Naomi chimes as she reaches yet another dress to Solana, adding it to the pile of clothes she already has stacked on her arm. “Besides, who doesn’t love shopping with other people’s money?”

Other people would be Roman. Despite her horror at the totals every time Bayley and Naomi sucker her into these outrageous shopping trips, her husband never seems to bat an eye. It’s not unsurprising. She knows he’s filthy rich. But still, just the thought of spending so much money on clothes is a struggle.

And as Bayley adds the two piece suit to her arm, Solana starts to notice there’s a theme in the items they’re picking for her. A lot of bathing suits. Sun dresses. Shorts and thin sleeved tops. All appropriate for summer, of course. But, something else. 

Like a trip.

Curious, Solana suddenly asks, “why are we getting so many vacation type outfits?”

Naomi looks at her with the perfect confused expression. “What?” She laughs, picking up a bright orange top with a low neckline. “Girl, it’s summer. These are summer clothes.”

“But all these bathing suits—”

“Because we finally got you to embrace a two-piece, so now we need to make sure you have plenty of em’ whenever you and Roman decide to go for a swim.” Her wink makes Solana look away to hide her blush. She doesn’t regret opening up about trying to eventually consummate her marriage, but the way Naomi and Bayley never waste a chance to crack an innuendo can be….a lot at times.

“I’m gonna go bring these up front.” Solana gestures to the heavy stack of clothes that she’s holding. The second, or maybe third, stack they’ve accumulated for her. There’s always a check-in regarding if Solana likes it or not, which she appreciates. Even if they’ve become exceptionally good at distinguishing whether she doesn’t like something because it’s just not her style or whether she doesn’t like it because of insecurity. And when it’s the second one, they never hesitate to invoke their veto powers, instructing the cashier to ring it up.

Solana finds the sales girl from earlier up at the register, messing around on her phone as the line is non-existent. Her emerald green eyes dart up from the screen and an almost crooked smile falls on her young looking face. Solana would guess she’s either in her late teens or early twenties. 

“Got more for me?”

Solana giggles. “Just a little.” 

The girl also laughs, accepting the new pile and adding it with the others. She turns back around with a bit of skeptical look. “Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”

Curious, Solana nods. “Sure.”

She leans over the counter, red hair sprinkling past her freckled shoulders. “How did you meet your husband?” Eyes widening a bit, Solana’s surprise at the question must show. “I’ve seen you come in here a couple times now over the past few months, and every time you spend more than what my parents probably make in a month combined. And your ring is so beautiful. I guess I’m just kind of wondering how I can get lucky too. Cause your husband clearly loves you a lot to spoil you so much.”

Love…..

Not until this very moment has Solana ever thought about Roman and the word love in the same sentence. Hell, in the same universe. 

He’s….he’s done so much for her. Changed her life, for the better, in almost every way. And she’s gathered that he must care for her to some extent. Why else would he do the things he’s done? But love….that’s such a strong word.

Too strong.

Not to mention, he’d made clear to her the first time he came to visit her at her job that he could never love her. He was very honest about that, and in a weird way, she appreciated it.

But…..but he also said that she was a business arrangement, and nothing about the way he treats her feels like a business obligation.

So…..

It’s such a big thing, a big thing she’s not sure she wants to tackle in public, let alone while standing in front of a complete stranger. 

“He’s really great.” That’s the answer nonanswer that she settles on. “I just….I got really lucky with him.” Because she did. God knows she did.

“Fair,” the girl laughs. “Well, if he has any younger brothers who are kind and generous like him, I’m single.”

Solana smiles a bit when her attention lands on the word brothers. Siblings. Family. 

It takes her back to a few months earlier, the night he rushed off because of conflict with this Cody Rhodes person. The night he shared with her he also lost his mother at the age of ten.

But…..but there was more.

Brief glimpses, flashbacks almost of a different night. Her body pressed against his. His strong arms around her. Comforting her almost.

“....all of my siblings….”

“.....only one…..”

“....alone….”

And though she can’t make out everything, can’t remember verbatim what he’d shared with her that evening. there’s enough bits and pieces that she’s able to string together a coherent, heartbreaking realization. 

It wasn’t just Roman’s mom he lost that night.

He lost his entire family.

He was the only one who made it out alive. 

There’s a crushing, cumbersome weight Solana feels in the back of her throat as well as the pit of her stomach. She knows better than most how devastating the loss of family can be, but to lose your entire immediate family in one night. As a child?

That’s a pain she can’t even imagine.

Roman makes a lot more sense now, his coldness, the constant aloof disposition. The way he always has his guard up. Beyond just his title as Tribal Chief. How can one not lose trust in most and all things with a loss like that?

How can one love after a loss like that?

Realizing her epiphany is unfolding behind the sales girl, Solana manages to murmur out a, “I’ll keep that in mind” before excusing herself. She just needs some space. Needs some—

“Solana?”

The woman in question is close to the entrance of the story when a voice, both new and familiar, calls her name, forcing her to turn around. And it’s when she does so that Solana realizes why it’s familiar.

“Dom?”

It’s been years since she’s seen him, and he looks both the same yet different. Facial hair that seems uneven and unconnected with a hairstyle to match, bangs almost entirely obscuring his bushy eyebrows. He’s dressed in all black, clothes draped over his still slim build. Once upon a time, she would grow nervous around him, insecure of herself in comparison to someone she thought was so much more attractive than he actually was. Now though, she just wants to pretend this unexpected encounter never happened.

“What are you—”

“Did you get bigger?”

And there it goes. One simple question asked with almost a hint of a mocking smile, Solana is briefly reverted back to those days of deep rooted insecurity. Where she’d hold her stomach in around him and always only order salad the few times he took her out.

For a second, she’s tempted to cross her arms, suddenly regretting the top that doesn’t entirely connect with her high waisted shorts, exposing a strip of skin. 

“Damn. I really thought you would have gotten yourself together by now.” He scoffs, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. “You still not putting out? Cause your tits are actually not that—”

“Shut up.”

Solana isn’t sure who’s more surprised by her interruption. Him or her. Perhaps him, because his smile is dropped, replaced with an almost scowl.

“What the hell did you say to me, mami?”

But instead of cowering, instead of her anxiety growing at him, a man, moving closer to her. Trying to intimidate her. Solana doesn’t back down.

She doesn’t back down because she’s not scared. 

Chin lifted, she keeps her voice firm and unwavering. “You don’t get to talk about me anymore. Not my weight. Not my body. None of it.” Seeing the shock in his eyes at her actually standing up for herself, not allowing him to talk down on her like he always would, makes Solana’s assertiveness that much more fulfilling. “Now leave me alone.”

She turns to walk away when she hears footsteps behind her. “Where do you think—”

Call it the result of her training or the fact that she’s still very much in her feelings and head about her heartbreaking realization regarding Roman, Solana hasn’t a clue just what leads her to spin around and connect her fist directly with Dom’s nose. However, as soon as she does it, sees him stumbling back into a rack, she slaps her hands over her mouth.

“Oh my….” But instead of apologizing, instead of feeling terrible for hitting another human being, she finds herself almost laughing. A shocked, amused smile hidden underneath her palms. Her first is hurting a bit, but that sting is dulled by the satisfaction of his dumbfounded facial expression.

It’s a bit short lived though as he straightens up and starts to stalk toward her. “What the hell? You crazy puta—”

“What the fuck did you just call her?”

Solana turns to see Bayley and Naomi. It’s hard to distinguish who looks more pissed. Who looks more ready to commit murder.

Naomi steps forward. “I know you did not just call her a bitch.” She turns to Bayley. “That’s what puta means in Spanish, right?”

“It sure does.” Bayley answers, coming to stand beside Solana. Protectively. “He called her a crazy bitch at that.” She scoffs, dressing him up and down. “Everyone knows you’re an idiot, Dom, but I didn’t think you were that stupid. Who the hell do you think you are talking to her like that?”

“He’s my ex.” Solana answers, partially unsure why she would let slip a piece of information that could only make the situation worse.

Naomi’s mouth drops open, one thumb gesturing to him. “Dirty Dumbass Dom is your ex?” Her eyes widen even more. “The one who said—oh hell no, Solana. We’re kicking his ass.”

Bayley lifts her hand, effectively stopping Naomi as she moves forward, no doubt ready to lay into him. Head tilted to the side, she smiles. “No….I have a much better idea.” Solana is understandably confused as Bayley tells Naomi, “I still have my stuff in my trunk.” 

Naomi’s eyes light up. “Oh, this just got so much better.” She turns towards the sales associate who’s been watching everything unfold from a distance like it was a TikTok storytime. “Hold the items, please. We’ll be back in a little bit.” 

Solana turns around to see the girl just give a thumbs up and shrug. “Do what you gotta do.”

Dom groaning in pain is what makes Solana turn her attention back to him, only to see him doubled over, holding his crotch as Naomi hits him in his back and starts guiding him out the store. “Get walking. Now.”

“I’m not going any—-” He cries out once again when Bayley kicks him in his face. 

“Shut your bitch ass up!” She curses in Spanish, motioning for Solana to follow them. “Come on, girl.”

Confused but following suit, Solana asks, “what are we doing?”

Naomi answers with intentional vagueness. “Having a lil’ fun.”

Something tells Solana they have different definitions of fun. 

But she remains silent as her two friends quite literally drag Dom out of the store, through the rest of the stores until they reach the parking lot. She’s again surprised when they take him over to Bayley’s car. She unlocks it and opens the trunk, pulling out a black bag that she hands to Solana. Solana starts to peek inside when something else catches her attention. 

Bats. 

Metal bats. 

She has two. One of which she reaches to Solana.

“I—just what are we doing?”

Bayley’s smile is nothing but mischievous. “Having some fun.”

Naomi suddenly pulls out a knife and presses it to his throat. “Take us to your car. Now.” 

Dom is quieter than she’s ever known him to be as he follows Naomi’s directive, leading them to his fancy pickup truck that Solana, even with her limited knowledge about cars, can tell is worth a pretty penny. 

They make him unlock it to ensure it's actually his truck before Bayley starts to circle it. She nods, as if impressed. “Nice. Can tell you’ve put a bunch of upgrades in.” Solana’s mouth drops open as Bayley takes her key and slides it along the truck as she walks. “Might need a paint job though.”

“What the hell! You—” He’s silenced by Naomi kicking him in his back, forcing him to the ground, knife still pressed against his throat. “You’re all fucking crazy!”

That only makes Bayley smile as she directs Solana to lay the bag on the ground, bending over and pulling out a portable bluetooth speaker. It’s only when seeing the glitter, paint, and glue that Solana starts to put two and two together.

“Are we—”

“Uh huh.”

She gasps. “But, we can’t—-we…..” And suddenly, she’s trailing off, thoughts of all of the cruel, unkind things Dom would say to her, the way he would put her down, fat shame her, bringing her to tears. The memories help her tune to change a bit. “C—can we?” 

Bayley stands up and places a hand on her shoulder. “Solana…..you are Solana fucking Reigns. Wife of Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief, the Head of the Table.” Out of the corner of her eye, Solana can see Dom’s eyes go wide as saucers. He clearly wasn’t aware of this. Of her marriage. Of just who she calls husband these days. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Bayley’s hype is effective as she pulls out her phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. A small smile falls on Solana’s face as she hears the familiar and oh-so fitting song. 

Right now,

He's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp

And she's probably getting frisky

Right now,

He's probably buying her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Bayley gestures for Solana to move closer to the truck. “Your ex. First hit is yours.”

“Solana, wait, please. I—I didn’t know you were with him.” Dom’s pleading and begging is desperate and embarrassing. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

For some reason, that word has never made her feel so irritated. 

“No, you’re not.” And without a second of hesitation, she takes the bat and swings it against his passenger window, effectively shattering it. On the side, Bayley and Naomi cheer her on, Solana not even needing encouragement as she moves around to the other side, doing the same to the driver’s window.

Bayley howls out, “let’s fuckin’go!” She takes the bat and brings it against the rest of the truck, creating dents, scratches, and anything else that can desecrate what she’s sure makes up for other deficits. 

Solana just took out the mirror on the passenger side when she hears Naomi aggressively yell at him not to ‘fucking move.” And Dom doesn’t, just watches helplessly as she moves over to the bag, pulling out the glue and glitter. She smirks in his direction, lifting the materials of destruction. “Time to glow, bitch.”

Solana laughs as Naomi rips open the door and starts pouring the deadly combination of glue and glitter all over the interior. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty

little suped up four wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seats

Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

Slashed a hole in all four tires

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The ironic and iconic lyrics serve as a manual and guiding force for Solana as she catches the tossed keys from Bayley who’s on the hood of the truck going HAM on the roof with the metal bat. Solana finds herself feeling almost giddy as she effectively slashes all four of his tires.

This is the last thing she ever saw herself doing: completely destroying her ex’s car without a care in the world, but it’s also exactly what’s happening.

And she can’t even say that she feels any regret about it.

Doesn’t feel bad about it.

Why should she? He never felt bad about any of the shit he did to her. 

And she especially doesn’t feel bad as she finds herself carving her name not only in his leather seats but the outside of the truck as well.

Naomi looks over at Dom who is now actually crying and laughs. “Look at it this way, Dom. We’re only doing this to your truck. Imagine what he’s going to do to you once he finds out what you did to his wife.” It brings her a great sense of satisfaction to see the terror in his eyes. 

It also makes her send out the brief video she recorded of Bayley and Solana beating the shit out of the truck with bats to her group chat with the men.

Naomi: Just doing hot girl shit. 💅🏿

Their replies start coming in only minutes later. 

Jimmy: Idk what’s going on, but I’m turned tf on. 

Jey: Why ya’ll females always go after our cars and shit? 

Roman: Why the fuck is it everytime you two take my wife out, it’s always some shit?

Roman: What the fuck is going on?

Naomi: Because you all asked so nicely 😐, turns out Solana used to date Dom back in the day.

Jimmy: Rey’s boy? The fuck? She too damn fine for that weasel. He could never handle all that ass.

Roman: One more time, Jimmy. Just one more time.

Jey: Naomi, please give us the rest of the story before Roman make your ass a widow.

Naomi: 🥴 Anyway, she told us some of the stuff he used to say to and about her, and honestly….even more trash than we thought.

Roman: Like?

Naomi: We promised Solana we wouldn’t say anything. Just know he was mean to her. So I guess she ran into him and he said some out of pocket shit, she got upset and PUNCHED him!!!!!!!

Jimmy: Soso HIT someone?!? 

Naomi: Sure did!

Jey: Damn! Our Soso growing up on us!

Roman: I wanna know what the fuck he said to her.

Naomi: Ask her when you get home. 🙄

Naomi: So we’re fucking up his truck while he watches helplessly. 😊

Roman: The dead don’t need cars anyway.

Roman’s chilly response is both given and, in her opinion, well overdue. She’s never heard anything nice or good about Mysterio’s boy, so she can only imagine the full extent of what he put Solana through. 

It’s why she’s mostly pleased by how Solana allows herself to let loose, to get her receipt. She deserves it.

As Solana and Bayley pour glitter in his gas tank, Naomi casually calls out, “what should we get to eat after this?”

________

“I committed assault and vandalism in one day. One.”

Roman smiles as he adjusts his tie, partially thankful his clearly distressed wife is unable to see his humored response to her frantic worrying. 

“That bitch got what he deserved, Solana.” Part of it. But, Solana doesn’t need to know Roman absolutely plans on making sure she never has to run into that alelo ever again. No one will. “You shouldn’t feel bad.”

She really shouldn’t, because he can only imagine what was said to her, the treatment she received from that piece of shit. None of which she deserved. All of which makes him want to say fuck the gala and get straight to torturing the fucker.

Through the mirror attached to his dresser, he watches the bathroom door open, Solana stepping out, a robe only partially covering the length of her red dress. Leaning against the door, she crosses her arms, clearly in her head over what he partially wishes he could have been present for.

He would have taken the metal bats to Dom himself versus the truck.

But, he’s also him, and she is her. 

Two very different people. 

Roman moves across the room, pulling her against him as her hands lay on his chest. “You really mean to tell me you didn’t feel the least bit good at fucking his shit up?”

And he sees it, the way she’s fighting back the agreement. He reminds, hands moving to undo her robe. “You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.” She seems to be mulling over his words as he pushes her robe off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. “Fuck….” She always looks good, but there’s something about seeing her in the red, the way the dress hugs her curves, taunting him, testing his resolve, that has them wanting to ditch the gala for an entirely different reason. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Her smile is bashful, but he’s pleased to see her not look away, to maintain eye contact as she murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’. She gasps a bit, informing, “Oh, I noticed earlier you were running low on your medicine, so I called it in and picked it up for you.”

That takes him off guard. It was on his to-do list. Somewhere on there, he’s certain. But for her to go out of her way to take care of it for him, it makes him feel something he can’t really explain. 

Solana’s smile dims a bit as she gently reminds, “you’ve gotta stay on top of that. It’s—it’s important, Roman.”

“Yeah…” It’s a response to her, but he’s still very much in his head over whatever this strange ass, yet somehow comforting feeling is. Fucking confusing ass shit. Clearing his throat, Roman forces himself to get his head back in the game. “Solana….” His tone is something different, something that makes her a bit nervous, that weighs down her previous smile even more.

She does her best not to reveal the alteration in her happiness level. But, she can just tell the mood is about to shift a bit. “Yes?”

To his credit, his hand moving in circles on the small of her back gives her a bit of comfort. Eases the weight of whatever he’s about to share. “Tonight..tonight I need to be on. Focused. The fucking annoying part about these things is that everyone’s there to see if they can seek out some type of soft point. Some kind of weakness.” 

This confuses her. Soft point? That’s not an issue for Roman, and she points out as such. “But, but you have no weaknesses.” 

Something flashes in his eyes and before she can say anything, not that she necessarily would, he’s back to explaining himself. “I don’t want you to think that I’m being cold with you. I’m not upset or avoiding you. I just—”

“You need to show them why you’re the Head of the Table.” His latter explanation provides the previously missing clarification. Reaching for his hand, she offers a gentle smile. “I understand.” 

“Do you?” For a second, it almost sounds like there’s a sense of urgency to his tone. Like he needs to know that she knows it’s nothing personal against her.

And it’s not really until this moment that Solana realizes there are two sides to Roman Reigns. The side that she sees, the almost gentle, caring side. The man who always goes out of his way to ensure her comfort and safety at all times. The man who’s changed her life in ways he’ll probably never be able to fully understand.

Then there’s the other side. The side that makes his name alone strikes fear in even the strongest of men. The most violent. The most diabolical. A god among men. 

Two completely different sides of the coin, but still a single coin.

This other side though, the side only she gets to see because it’s reserved for her. The side that might even be considered a form of vulnerability…..he only shows that with her, only shows it to her.

A….safe space, of sorts.

She is his safe space. 

This second, or maybe third, major realization of the day only makes that love aspect so much more confusing. Though it makes her heart swell to know she can provide that for him. That she can be that for him.

Pulling from floating thoughts, Solana brings herself back to the conversation at hand. “I do.” She offers an explanation of her own. “I know I asked if you’ll stay with me the whole night, but—but, I don’t think I need that.” And before he can protest, she gives the valid reasons why. “I didn’t know Bayley and Naomi would be there. I’m fine with them. I just—I didn’t want to be alone in a room full of people I don’t know.”

“I would never leave you alone.” He brings his hand to the back of her neck, informing in a low voice. “I might not interact with you much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not watching. 

“I know.” She cuts him off, again working to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be so focused on her. It’s clear there’s a task for the evening, a box that needs to be checked. And she doesn’t want to interfere in any sort of way. “I’ll be fine.” With a half smile, she reminds, “especially if there’s a bat nearby.”

A genuine smile grows on Roman’s face as he pulls her into him, Solana resting in his safe embrace. Being in his arms is starting to become one of her favorite things. “My fine ass, bat swinging wife.” She giggles against him as Roman drops his hand to her ass, giving a slap. 

“Let’s go.”

________

The minute the SUV door opens and Roman climbs out first only to offer his hand as Solana steps out behind him, her gaze taking in the beautiful mansion that looks like something out of a movie premiere, her anxiety starts to rise. Taking in the scene around her, she’s met with an actual red carpet leading up the steps to the mansion that has large, glass, double doors with swirled marble intricate designs that match the stone of the building. There’s a line of cars both behind and in front of their SUV, indicating guests are still arriving.

That makes her feel at least a little bit better.

She didn’t want to make Roman late. Even if something tells her he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

It’s not missed upon her how he gives her hand an almost gentle squeeze and rubs his thumb over her knuckles all the while keeping his gaze up and focused. She sees how his light eyes subtly survey the perimeter as he leads them up the steps. She stills when two large men dressed in black suits wearing earpieces, guards clearly, stop them with a raised hand.

“Please walk through—-”

“Do I look fucking stupid?” Roman’s question needs no answer as he motions for Solana to walk ahead of him through the metal detectors that separate attendees from entering. Slowly, with a bit of anxiety at somehow setting them off even though there’s no way for her to, she does so without incident. Roman does the same looking every bit annoyed as he feels, but it makes her feel a bit better when he takes hand in his again.

“No weapons allowed.” Is all he says. Calmly. Simply. Without anything else. She nods, figuring as such, but a brief sideways glance at her husband, and she wonders how beneficial that actually is when he, himself, is a walking weapon.

She’s more than certain he’s killed before with his bare hands. Not a weapon needed.

Solana takes in the setting before her. Circular tables litter the first and second levels of the beautiful building, intricate, opulent centerpieces decorating each table. A live band plays some unfamiliar song as guests mingle about, many of which are admiring the various art pieces that occupy almost all of the walls. The lights are dimmed and the smell of lavender and honey penetrates, creating an almost calming atmosphere that starkly contrasts the fact that almost everyone in eyesight is a part of the crime underworld. Trained, brutal killers. 

Including the man who continues to soothe his thumb across her knuckles. 

“Come on.”

Solana stays close besides Roman as he leads them through the sea of people. Many of which, men primarily, seem to settle their gaze on her, her chest, only to travel up to see the man beside her and smartly redirect their attention literally anywhere else.

In some sort of strange way, that brings a sense of comfort to her. To know that just his presence wards off any and all unwanted attention. Makes her feel safer.

Then again, she’s not sure if any environment exists where Roman doesn’t make her feel safe. 

She feels even better when she realizes where he’s led them. A table full of familiar, equally welcomed faces. 

Bayley is the first to greet her. She stands up from the table, and Solana is in awe of her teal dress that hugs every curve beautifully. “You look fuckin amazing.” She reaches over, pulling Solana away from Roman and into a hug. “Aren’t you glad you went with this one?” She gestures down to the dress.

Solana laughs and nods. “Yes. I am.”

Naomi and Jimmy are also standing now, forming an almost line to hug Solana. Naomi pulls her in even tighter. “How's the fist?”

Solana gasps as Naomi laughs only for Jimmy to crack his little joke. “I made sure ain’t no bats around just in case you get upset again, sis.” 

Allowing him to hug her, Solana rolls her eyes and murmurs, “that’s not happening ever again.”

“You might wanna watch your shit, Big Dog. Soso believe in breaking shit when she gets angry.”

Feeling a bit defenseless, she grasps at straws. “It was—it wasn’t like that.”

Jey scoffs, pointing out after downing some of his wine, “girl, we saw you on that video. You was swangin the hell out of that thing.”

Cheeks flushed, Solana sits down in the seat Roman has pulled out for her. Right next to him. Bayley on her other side. She looks over at Naomi. “I can’t believe you sent it to them.”

“Are you kidding? Our sweet little Solana beating the shit out of her ex’s car with a bat? That’s Kodak worthy.”

She rolls her eyes, eager to take the attention off herself as she notices Jey’s seat beside him is empty. “Is Nicki not coming?”

Naomi answers with a chuckle. “Girl, Nicki got banned years ago after she—”

Jey quickly jumps in, depriving Solana of a story she’s certain involved some type of altercation between him and his wife. Their marriage truly does not make any sense to her whatsoever. “Aye, we don’t need to rehash the past.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi leans over and whispers, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana hopes she follows through on that. Roman asks the twins something in Samona, the three of them starting a dialogue in a language only they can understand. And judging by the serious expressions on all of their faces, she surmises that it’s business related. 

Especially when Solo and Paul join the table. It’s almost like the ladies don’t exist after that, but it doesn’t bother Solana. It can’t when Roman already made it clear what tonight would be like.

It’s nothing personal. 

Just business. 

Bored and kind of eager to explore what seems like one of a kind masterpieces, she turns to Bayley and asks, “can we go look at the art?”

Bayley scoffs. “Hell yeah.” Standing up and adjusting her dress, she remarks, “it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.” Glancing at Naomi, she asks, “you wanna come with us?”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Girl, you don’t even have to ask.” 

Solana smiles, grateful for their attendance and companionship. 

Roman’s deep voice cuts through with a simple two word command. “Watch her.”

She looks back at him, offering a small smile she hopes will settle any concern he may have about her. He doesn’t need to worry about that. Just needs to focus on himself. 

Linking arms with the other ladies, they move through the crowd, starting with the art near the entrance and making their way around. Solana seems to be the most intrigued by the pieces selected, trying to detect a theme in each one. Naomi and Bayley, however, seem to settle for a combination of roasting and admiring. More of the first than the latter. 

“Oh fuck, I was hoping they didn’t show up.” Solana is in the midst of deciphering a piece of abstract art when Bayley’s almost steel exclamation pulls her from her focus. 

Confused, she asks, “who?”

Naomi answers, subtly gesturing across the room. “Don’t stare. It’ll draw attention to us.”

Solana does her best, but it’s hard not to when she sees a set of new arrivals, most of which are absolute strangers, faces unseen prior to this very moment.

But one is not.

One is a face she saw, a person she spoke to, just days prior.

Brandi. 

She’s holding hands with a tall man, striking blue eyes Solana can see from nearly across the room, bleached blonde hair that somehow compliments his tanned skin. There’s a boyish look about him that Solana would guess is a facade, something that deceives people, cleverly hiding the fact that he’s just as much a killer as the guests around them. 

Before she can ask who he is though, Bayley offers introductions. “That is Cody Rhodes. And the pretty lady on his arm is his wife, Brandi.”

And just like that, Solana’s stomach drops. Her mouth feels dry. “Wife?” Solana looks back and forth between the couple. “Brandi is Cody’s wife?”

This just got a lot more confusing and complicated. The kind woman whose young daughter Solana ‘rescued’ is married to Roman’s greatest enemy? The man he hates most?

And suddenly Solana is thinking about her interaction with Solo after she mentioned Brandi’s name. 

He knew.

So, why didn’t he say anything to her?

Why didn’t he say anything to Roman?

________

Roman ignoring Solana for the majority of the night ends up being a lot easier than she anticipated. 

It’s quelled by the fact that she’s had one hell of a day, several major revelations clogging up her mental space. 

Remembering what Roman told her about his family.

Trying to figure out if she’s in love with Roman.

Trying to figure out if Roman could ever love her.

Accidentally helping out his sworn enemy’s wife.

Her personal guard being aware of this last piece of information yet saying nothing to her or her husband. 

Even though she’s sworn off alcohol after the last drunken disaster, there’s a burning temptation to walk over to the open bar and request something that can at least take the edge off. 

Something to help her clear her head.

It’s after dinner, and Roman, Paul, and the twins are moving around, briefly speaking with various guests. Roman and Paul, in particular, seem to keep the conversations perfunctory before moving onto the next one. Clearly checking off certain, necessary boxes.

Solana again is viewing artwork, doing whatever she can to distract herself when someone unexpected comes up to her.

“Hey.” She looks to her side to see no one other than Solo. He looks almost….nervous. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Does she want to talk to him at this current moment in time? Not really. But, something tells her she needs to. 

“Yes.”

Solo guides them to a corner that’s as close to secluded as they’re gonna get at the crowded event.

“Listen, I…..I wanted to apologize to you.”

Solana’s eyes widen. The surprises just keep coming. “Wh–what?”

“I know….I know I’ve been ass.” She wouldn’t necessarily use that word to describe his behavior and disposition, but it’s not exactly an inaccurate usage either. “It’s just….before you came around, I was just getting my chance to show Roman I deserve a seat at the table with him and my brothers. Then he assigns me to you, and I just feel like I’m not proving myself no more.”

Solana started to figure as such. Guessed that maybe he resented her to a certain extent because he’d essentially been assigned as her adult babysitter. That would probably annoy anyone.

“But, at the end of the day, Roman is the Tribal Chief. His word is final. I have to respect that.” He sighs, shrugging. “And as his wife, I gotta respect you too, which I ain’t been doing, so I apologize.”

Solana has never really been one to be on the receiving end of apologies from people. It’s still an uncomfortable experience as she murmurs an ‘it’s okay’ followed up with her question about his omission. “Why didn’t you tell me who Brandi was? Or tell Roman?”

He sighs loudly, voice lowering a bit as he explains his actions. “You’re new to the family, so you don’t know the history between Cody and Roman. Telling him would only kick off some shit. I figured if she came around again, then that I would tell you.” His explanation makes sense, Solana nodding slowly. He too doesn’t seem to want to upset Roman if possible. “I’m sorry for that too.”

She shakes her head. “No. I—I get it, and—I’m sorry, too, that you got stuck with me.” 

Solo smiles a bit. The first time she’s ever seen him do so. It feels…..odd. “You ain’t so bad.” He then asks, brow lifted a bit. “So, we cool?”

Solana swallows. What reason does she have for them not to be at this point? Everything he’s said makes perfect sense. “Of course.” Offering a small smile, she says sincerely, “thank you, Solo.” 

He nods, not saying anything else as he walks off.

Left alone, blowing out a big breath, she looks around. Solana spots the hall that leads to the ladies room. Making her way through the crowd, she walks in and goes into the first open stall. Relieving her bladder is an unexpected, small but significant enough type of relief. It feels similar to the peace she now has with the whole Solo situation. 

Solana walks over to the sink, pumping some soap into her hands, activating the motion sensor to shut on the water as she rinses, watching the suds empty down the drain. 

“Hey, sis.” 

Solana’s head snaps up the second she’s met with the voice she hasn’t heard in months. Her brown eyes, through the mirror, locking with an almost identical set of brown. The only difference being the glimpse of emotion that’s always been unfamiliar to her but a resident friend of his.

Hate.

Solana moves as quickly as she can, but it’s not fast enough, because he’s got a fist full of her hair. Wes yanks her head back and shoves her away, providing him the access he needs to bring his hand across her face, backhanding her so hard that it makes her double over in pain. 

Feeling an unfamiliar wetness, she feels her cheek, only to see blood on her fingertips. A glance at Wes' hand shows that the rings on his fingers must have cut her. 

But she can’t focus on that too long because his hand is wrapped around her neck as he thrusts her against the adjacent wall, searing pain shooting across her back at the violent impact.

She claws at his iron grip, his dark eyes narrowing against her. So much hate. “You dumb slut, did you really think you could hide forever?” Her eyes shut, her mind screaming Roman’s name in a way her mouth cannot. “Were you stupid enough to believe he could protect you from me?” Solana winces as he tightens his grip. “You’re a weak, stupid bitch and you always will be.”

Weak

Slut

Stupid

Dumb

Bitch

All words that she’s heard before. Cruel names she’s been called over the years in conjunction with beatings. Beatings like this that have left her bloody and broken. Feeling empty. Feeling like every hurtful thing she’s ever been called. Feeling that weak adjective that he’s always made her defining trait.

Solana closes her eyes and starts to retreat to that mental place of superficial security, bracing for what’s sure to be a beating like no other. She tries to return to that spot in her brain that’s accepted that this is her reality, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

The only problem is that that place doesn’t exist anymore.

She can’t find it.

She doesn’t feel weak or dumb or stupid. Doesn’t feel helpless and victim to his sadism.

Not even in this moment with his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. 

No….

She feels something else. 

Something much stronger, powerful, fueling.

Anger.

She’s pissed the fuck off.

It’s when she sees his other hand pull out a knife, that for a second, a brief moment, she hesitates. She hesitates, momentarily paralyzed by the fear and trauma that single item has brought her over the past twenty years. But, she closes her eyes and centers herself, tapping back into months of training, of sparring, of fighting.

Snarling almost, her rage and determination growing synchronously, Solana lifts up her leg with all the force she can muster, her knee coming into direct impact with Wes’s crotch area. Instantly, he releases her, dubbed over, groaning and cursing. Solana’s a bit lightheaded, but she powers through it, quickly grabbing the vase of flowers on the counter and swinging it with all her might over his head.

“Fuck!” He grunts, falling to the ground, his knife tumbling across the intricately designed tile flooring. 

Rushing to grab it, he does the same, but she manages to outpace him. Her speed gives her the upperhand. And with a cry of her own, she slams it down directly into the palm of his outreaching hand.

Wes howls in pain as she rips it out and kicks him in his side, watching as he tumbles onto his back. Solana slams her heel down on his other arm, pinning it and forcing the knife through his right hand this time. 

He cries out again and she backs away for a second, tempted to drive it through another part of him when he growls with all the rage and pain, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bitch!”

His threat, unlike countless times before, doesn’t frighten her, doesn’t make her tremble and cower in fear. 

It just pisses her off even more.

“Come on.” Solana motions for him to come at her, for him to climb off the ground and fight her. “Come on!” Using the bloody knife, she takes and slices it across her dress, allowing her more freedom and fluidity with her movements. Kicking the material to the side, she crouches down, egging him on. “Hit me, you son of a bitch!”

Finally to his feet, Solana sees him ready to charge at her. Her eyes never leave him, studying every single movement of his bleeding body. And just when he’s about to slam into her, she jumps to the side, watching him slam into the wall. Solana doesn’t waste a single second as she rushes behind him, lifts her leg and kicks him in the head, intentionally trying to drive her heel into his neck. His shouts of pain further her drive as she drops her leg, snatches him by his hair and slams the knife down into his shoulder. 

She jumps back as his body plops to the ground again, Wes rolling over and writhing in pain, profusely bleeding from several parts of his body, black suit staining dark, bloody red. Solana moves toward him, utilizing every bit of strength coursing through her body as she lands brutal kick after kick into his side, intentionally aiming for his chest. A kick for every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, every burn, every time he waterboarded her to the point where she was unconscious. Every fucking thing. She only stops when she hears the satisfying crack of one or several of his ribs. 

But, it’s not enough. It’s not enough because all she can think about now is all the times he made her bleed, made her scream, made her flail with fear and terror. It’s his turn now. 

Kicking off her heels, she grabs him by the collar of his suit jacket. “Come here, you bastard.” He’s heavy, and it’s a strain to drag him, but she does just that, pulling him into one of the stalls. Solana shoves the back of his head into the toilet and holds him down face first into the water.

Wes flails against her, but her grip is just like her spirit. Strong and unrelenting.

“How does that feel?” She taunts, tears streaming down her face because as vindicating as this moment is, it still doesn’t strip away the pain of years of abuse and torture. Yanking his head back, pleased by the way he coughs violently, gasping for air, she continues to mock him with the same taunts he always threw her way. “Say something, bitch!” Solana slams his head back down into the water. Repeating the same act of torture he utilized on her for years. 

She does it until she feels her strength starting to wane, eventually releasing his clumped body down as she backs away, leaning against the counter. 

Chest moving up and down from her heavy breathing, exhaust settling in as adrenaline fades out, it’s only then she turns to look at her reflection in the mirror. Face reddened, hair disheveled, red dress stained with his blood splatter, a mixture of her blood from the cut that probably wont need anything more than a liquid bandaid, and tears running down her cheek, yet she’s never felt fucking better.

This….this is liberation.

It’s freedom from shackles of fear. 

Fear of the one person she never thought she wouldn’t be terrified of. And yet, that same source of so much heartache lies before her: bloody, bruised, broken. 

All because of her.

Commotion outside the door and banging against it alerts her to the fact that somebody has clearly caught onto her absence. Roman, most likely. 

Body suddenly very heavy, she moves over to the door, leaning back against it, eyes landing on Wes who’s coughing up blood. For a brief second, she feels a sliver of sadness, if guilt. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s knocked out the way, replaced with pride. Roman’s words from earlier in the night returning and cementing her satisfaction.

“You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.”

And fewer have been crueler than the man before her.

Voice and body trembling from the weight of it all, Solana affirms with all the emotion and sincerity through her body. “I am not scared of you anymore.” She turns the lock, stepping out of the way to avoid the avalanche of bodies about to enter. “And I never will be again.”

Sure enough, it sounds like a stampede. Solana closes her eyes, stealing a moment to rest and relish in her inner peace.

“Solana.”

His voice is urgent and pressured, and seconds later, he has her in his arms, holding her against him. She breathes in his scent, comforted by his arms around her.

“I’m fine.” She knows he needs to hear it, needs to hear the words come from her mouth. Even if she knows she probably looks anything but, clothes and body splashed with her brother’s blood. 

“Solo!” Roman’s voice is filled with unbridled rage that, any other time, she’d probably tremble at. But, in this moment, it’s valid as hell. And beyond that, she knows without a doubt now that he would never make her the object of his anger. “Pick him up!”

Solana sets her gaze on a barely conscious Wes as Solo drags him out of the stall. 

Jimmy and Jey being present, Roman’s fury, and Solo holding him in position are all the things that  alert her to what’s about to happen. 

Jimmy whistles, taking in Wes' battered appearance. “Damn, she beat the hell out of you!”

“No.” Solana says it too quietly, too softly. She has to place her hand on Roman’s chest to get his eyes back on her. “No.”

“I don’t want you to kill him.” And before Roman can protest, ask her if she’s lost her fucking mind, she steps toward Wes, explaining to all parties but directing her wishes to him. “I want him to live in fear….to know what that’s like.” Eyes burning with a fresh set of tears, she emphasizes. “It’s his turn to be scared.” Head tilted, scoffing a bit at how pathetic he looks, she mocks him one last time, “who’s the bitch now?”

Without even thinking about it, Solana lifts her hand and connects her fist directly with the side of his jaw, knocking him out cold. 

“Goddamn!” Jey shouts with all the amusement in the world as Roman pulls her back into him, lips pressed against her temple.

“I’m okay,” she reiterates, holding onto his sleeve. “I promise.” She is. Maybe better than she’s been in some time. 

Better than she’s ever been.

Roman steps back for a second and slides his jacket off, placing it around her. 

Solana reaches for his hand and gestures for the door. “Let’s go.” He still looks so angry, so furious, but she knows it’s not toward her. Nevertheless, he doesn’t need to stay in this headspace. Not with his high blood pressure. Not with his health at stake.

Roman says something to Solo in Samoan and begins to guide her out of the bathroom that’s been completely destroyed in the fight. A crowd of most of the guests has gathered around, clearly curious and wanting to know just what the hell happened. It’s fair and almost expected. 

But, despite looking like everything she’s just been through, Solana doesn’t shy away from the stares and whispers. Doesn’t necessarily care. Because as ironic as it is, this might be the most confident she’s ever felt in her life. 

But, it’s when she sees Cody and Brandi that Solana just knows something is about to go wrong.

Cody smirks, calling out loud enough for all to hear, Roman especially. “I guess women and children aren’t off limits after all.” 

There’s more to it. There has to be more to it, because the second Roman rips his hand away from Solana and charges at Rhodes seems to take even the instigator off guard. Instantly, Jimmy and Jey are rushing toward their cousin as he lands a blow against Rhodes that sends him flat on his ass. 

“Roman!” She calls out after him, moving in his direction, only to feel herself being restrained. She looks back and catches Bayley and Naomi looking with worried expressions. 

“We need to get out of here!” Naomi urges, but Solana can’t seem to look away from what’s turned into an all out brawl. Jimmy and Jey struggle to hold back their irate cousin as he spits venom against Rhodes who looks just as pissed off now, blood running from his nose.

“I’m the head of the table!” 

“I’ll whoop everybody’s ass around here!”

“This is my kingdom, you little bitch!”

“I can’t just leave him!” Solana pleads, trying to pull away from Bayley who clearly has no intentions on letting her go.

“He’ll be fine, Solana. But, he’s pissed the fuck off, and now Rhodes is pissed, and it’s about to be a shitshow that if he was thinking straight, he would never want you around.” Naomi explains and adds on, “the twins won’t let anything happen. I promise you that. Now let’s go.”

And despite everything in her screaming not to, to stay with him, to somehow find a way to help him calm down, there’s a logical part of her that knows the girls are right.

Even with him clearfly only seeing red as she continues to shout at Cody, the other man also being held back, barely, by his men. 

“There ain’t a man alive who can touch my button. If I had one, you wouldn’t be able to locate it. Can’t no man knock me out! I’m tired of being humble! I’m tired of letting people think they got a chance! The Tribal Chief is heads and shoulders above everybody! I run this all!”

Roman is almost a different person, so consumed by his rage, no doubt most of it because of Wes, Cody just being on the receiving end but not just taking it without responding with threats of his own.

“Time and place, you narcissistic son of a bitch!”

“Not everyone is fucking scared of you, Reigns!”

“I’ll fight you any fucking day!”

Solana’s eyes briefly lock with Brandi who’s also being rushed away, and she swears, she sees what looks like an almost sympathetic expression. Like if she could, she’d apologize.

It makes Solana frown.

Naomi pulls on her again. “Let’s go, Solana.” 

Security for the gala is now rushing over as some of Roman and Cody’s men are now throwing fists as well. Solana hates this. Hates how this has all played out. But, she also knows that she does nothing to help the situation by hanging around and risking getting hurt.

That’ll only upset Roman more. 

So even with a tremendous amount of apprehension, she allows them to guide her out, never once not thinking about the man she’s almost certain she more than cares about at this point. 

________

Solana is up and alert the minute she hears him enter their front door. In the living room, lying on the sofa, her go-to spot when waiting for his arrival, she partially expects him to walk in and meet her. The way he has several times before now, but this time is different.

Heavy footsteps don’t bring him to meet her. They instead carry him past the living room, through the kitchen, and outside the backdoor. 

Instantly, she’s sitting up. 

She goes to follow him when Jimmy and Jey enter the house looking every bit the night that they’ve all had. 

It’s a stupid question, and she knows as such, but she can’t help but ask. “How is he?”

Jimmy is the one to answer, blowing out a breath. “Honestly? Still pretty pissed but calm enough to come back home.” He then shares, “I tried to get him to sleep it off at my place, but he wanted to come back here.

Good. Solana doesn’t say it, but she sure is thinking it. Not even from the perspective of her being uncomfortable being in this big house all by herself with just Dulce. That’s maybe a part of it, sure. But, the biggest thing is that this is their home. And if he needs something, she wants to be there to help him with whatever that is.

“It’s okay. I can watch him.”

“Solana….” Jey cuts in, stuffing his hands in his suit pocket. “You know he would never hurt you, right? I know he was definitely on one tonight, but—”

Seeing where this is going, she cuts in, calm but firm. “I’m not scared of him. I—I know he would never hurt me.”

They seem to be pleased by her answer but still a bit hesitant, Jimmy offering, “if you want, I can stay over tonight. Make sure—”

“He’s my husband.” She swallows, nothing unwavering about her reiteration. “I’ve got him.”

Jimmy and Jey still look unsure but follow her wishes. Each giving her a hug before reiterating to call them if she needs anything. She’s thankful for their support but mostly their making sure Roman made it back home safely. 

Solana carries Dulce up to her shared room with Roman and closes the door to avoid any unnecessary interruptions. It’s only then she finally makes her way back downstairs, venturing through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor. Hand on the knob, Solana doesn’t hesitate to turn it, bringing her to the man she’s had on her mind nonstop the past few hours.

Roman’s hulking figure is plopped down on the edge of the patio chaise lounge. His button down shirt is discarded, his muscles stretching against the cotton of his white undershirt. Playing with the sides of one of his shirts she threw on after her shower, Solana sees there’s no need to announce her presence.

He’s already aware. 

With calmness that contrasts his demeanor just hours earlier, he advises, “you should be asleep.”

His voice is hoarse, heavy, weighed down with something he seems keen on internalizing. No matter how much it wrecks him on the inside. It brings a frown to her face and a pain to her chest. 

Swallowing, Solana moves closer to him, calmly countering, “you know I won’t sleep until I know you’re okay.”

“Okay….” Roman chuckles, and it’s almost bitter. An almost ironic tone as he repeats her chosen word. “Solana, nothing about tonight was okay.”

Her heart grows even heavier than it’s been following tonight’s events.

It tears Solana up to see him in this state. To see and almost feel his turmoil and not be able to do anything about it. Because he doesn’t want help. Because he’s so used to handling everything on his own, as he’s stated to her multiple times before.

But, that’s the thing. He’s not alone.

She just needs to get him to see and understand that. 

Setting aside any reservations and trepidation about her next steps, she closes the distance between them, kneeling down on the patio stone directly in front of him. Naturally, his eyes lock with hers, and for a second, she sees a tremble of his nearly impenetrable wall. “Roman….” One hand on his knee, the other reaching to grab his hand. “Please….please talk to me.” His eyes briefly dart away, a sign of her words doing something to his resolve. “Whatever….whatever happened tonight, let me help you work through it.”

He sets his focus back on her, the hand under hers lifting to cup her face, thumb ghosting over the cut she cleaned, tended, and sealed with a liquid band-aid. “You got hurt tonight….”

“I don’t care about that.” Her dismissal is aggressive but slides into something soothing almost as she reiterates. “I—I care about you.”

His jaw clenches. “I lost my temper tonight.”

“I don’t care about that either.” Again, she’s dismissive, pushing aside anything that could prevent him from hearing her right now. Really hearing her. “I wasn’t scared of you. I’m—I’m never scared of you, Roman.” Swallowing, she stands up and moves herself on his lap, relieved when he wraps his arms around her. “But…I was scared for you.” She pushes back some of his hair that came out of his always neat bun during the brawl. “I just….I wish you would talk to me.”

But, she also knows that she can’t force it. Can’t make him. Even though it physically aches her to know he’s dealing with so much and won’t let her help.

Won’t let her be there for him the same way he’s been there for her.

“Cody and I grew up together. We were….good friends.” Solana isn’t sure she’s still breathing as Roman begins to explain in a low voice, his hand moving soft circles against her side. She says and does nothing, not wanting to do anything to risk deterring him from this rare occurrence of vulnerability. “We…we bonded over being groomed to take over our families legacies. His…his father was good friends with mine.” 

Friends….

It feels almost impossible to imagine Roman and Cody as ever being anything more than sworn enemies. She’s not sure she’s even seen a deeper level of hatred than what she saw in their eyes tonight.

“It was my 10th birthday. We were gathered at the house to celebrate, and it was fine, until it wasn’t.” Roman grows quiet, as he clearly hesitates. She starts to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that she doesn’t want to trigger him. But, he continues. “I don’t remember everything. Just the sound of bullets, screams, and then heat from the fire that someone set.” Fire… Solana’s eyes naturally drop to his tatted arm, tribal ink covering burns he clearly received that night of pure hell. Eyes watering, she continues to listen to him relive what sounds like a night of horror. “I was the only one who survived. My parents, my aunt, uncle, and my seven brothers and sisters were all killed.”

 “Oh my god….” Her heart literally breaks in that moment, hearing him confirm what she’d remembered just earlier in the day but didn’t want to actually believe. It’s just too devastating. To lose his entire family in that manner, all while celebrating his birthday of all days….it seems inconceivable.

Solana isn’t sure she’s ever felt this much sympathy towards another human being. 

Roman’s voice, however, never wavers. She can see he’s doing his best to simply recall and not feel. “And it wasn’t until I was 14 that a mutual friend of ours at the time, Seth, let it slip while he was in one of his manic states, that I should talk to Cody about what really happened that night.” His voice takes on a darker, angrier tone, and she can feel him shift underneath her. “So, I did, and I found out….that his father was responsible for the hit. That he betrayed my father. And that Cody knew the whole fucking time.”

There’s understandable anger in his words. Anger at such cruel betrayal. “For four fucking years, he pretended to be my friend. Pretended like he didn’t fucking know that his father was the reason my family was all dead.” His voice dips into something low, something much darker. “I can’t tell you…much after that, because I was so angry that all I saw was my rage.”

Solana brings her hand to his chest, a comforting placement, though she’s not certain anything could comfort this level of trauma. 

His expression is blank as he shares coldly. “I killed them all. His parents. His siblings. Everyone. I left him the same way his father left me: alone.” He swallows thickly, still not looking at her. “I told you before, Solana. I’m not a good man.”

“That’s not true.” She finally speaks, voice hoarse,  eyes watering at the truth of it all. She had no idea he’d been through so much. Lost so much more. “I don’t think I’ve met a man better than you, Roman.”

She’s never met any man like Roman.

Moving her hands to cup his face, it settles her a bit that he’s finally looking at her again. Closed off and back to being unreadable, it’s still eye contact. And she’ll take it. She’ll take whatever she can get from him. “No one….no one can know what it’s like to lose like we’ve lost. I….I get you. And….and I think you get me too.” Sniffling, she shakes her head, never wanting to invalidate his experience. “And no, I know….I know it’s not the same, but what I do know is that I haven’t felt alone since…since being with you.” She hasn’t felt a lot of things since being with him. Hasn’t felt the same amount of depression and emptiness. Just happiness and joy. “And I don’t want you to feel alone either, because….because you have me, and….and I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone drops into a soft whisper. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Because I love you.

But, that can’t be stated. Not aloud. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It’s not what he needs. Because it’s for selfish reasons. Because it would make her feel better to verbalize what she’s finally realized what she’s been feeling towards him. What she feels for him.

Love

“Besides….” She offers a small smile, messing with his beard, knowing the weight of this conversation might be too much for him, offering him a bit of a detour. “Who else is gonna bail me out the next time I fuck up someone’s truck?”

He cracks a small smile, and it makes her heart swell. It’s the best thing she’s seen all day. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss.”

Relieved to hear a growing lightness in his voice, she buries her head in the crook of his neck, murmuring, “guess you’re rubbing off on me….”

Roman brings his hand to her hip, tugging her closer, kissing her temple. Lips pressed against her forehead, he murmurs. “I’m proud of you.” That means so much to her. His approval. “Cause while I hate to agree with my dumbass cousin, Jimmy was right. You whooped his ass.”

Solana can’t help it. She laughs into his chest, looking up while biting down on her bottom lip. Voice quiet, she expresses both a question and agreement. “I did, didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, bringing his hand to her cheek, thumb and index finger lightly cupping her chin. “Sure did, baby…“ He doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t need to. Neither does she. She just nestles closer to him as he stands up, still holding her, grip protective and firm. 

Like he has no intentions of letting go.

Solana prays he never does. 

Because while Roman Reigns is the last person she ever expected to end up with, to care for, to love…..that’s exactly what’s happened.  

That’s exactly who she’s with.

Exactly who she cares for.

And exactly who she loves.

________

Xavier stands in front of the hospital bed, a hospital bed he was still in days prior, where his son stood before him as they schemed together to create what he thought was a foolproof plan. It’s a plan, however, that didn’t go the way he intended.

Far from it.

Wesley was always supposed to attack Solana in the bathroom, was supposed to rough her up a bit to see if Reigns would come to her rescue, the prediction being he’d move to kill Wes but Solana would interfere, would stop him.

Because his stupid second born has always been a victim to her love mentality. Would be blinded by whatever fruitless hope she still has that some part of him or his son loves her. Because they’re family.

But, that didn’t happen.

His son attacked her, yes, but the bitch fought back.

And now he watches helplessly as a brutally beaten, stabbed Wesley is laid up in the ICU yet again, but this time in a coma. Limited brain activity. 

Prognosis….not well.

And it’s all because of her.

Xavier is a prideful man, but even he can admit he never saw this coming. Never anticipated Reigns would have the girl trained, never thought his weak ass daughter could be capable of something like this.

Capable of almost taking away his son. His heir. 

Xavier is seething and would shoot her dead right now if he could, but he has to be smart. Especially after tonight, which wasn’t an entire loss.

He snatches his phone, sending out a text. 

Xavier: I want that bitch DEAD.

Xavier: We’ll proceed with the plan.

Because while most will see Roman’s outburst as expected given Cody Rhodes was present and almost everyone knows the history there, Xavier knows better.

Xavier knows that Roman’s rage was primarily at the fact that Solana had been attacked, confirming what he suspected.

And he’ll give the bastard credit. From what he heard, Reigns did a great job masking his feelings for her, practically ignoring Solana the entire night. 

Never showing his hand.

But, he did.

He does care for her.

And just that thought brings a wicked smile to Xavier’s aged face. 

After all these years, the impossible has happened. 

Roman Reigns finally has a weakness.

________

translation: "i'd do anything for you."

[tongue-like-a-razor]

hangman request incoming ‼️‼️

so the reader is best friends w rooster and whenever she’s around hangman he’s always quite rude to her, only bc he’s harbouring huge feelings for her which he isn’t very used to. then maybe he goes too far and rooster needs to talk some sense into him (reader could be a pilot or just a close friend of rooster’s)

SORRY i’m not great and giving requests but i hope there’s something in there that you like !

Ahhhh I LOVE this request!! And I really loved writing this piece, which may or may not turn into a series.. oops I couldn't resist haha

Less Talk | Part I

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Masterlist

“Do you ever not have an opinion?” Jake watches you irritably before taking a long swig of his drink. He needs the alcohol to calm his nerves so that he doesn’t inadvertently push you off your chair.

You glare at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A nice, safe space for Seresin to dominate the conversation without opposition.”

Jake lets out a steady breath. No one riles him quite like you do. “We’re talking about food, Y/N. It doesn’t exactly have global ramifications.”

“Actually, it does,” you respond matter-of-factly. “And are you saying I shouldn’t have an opinion unless it is ground-breaking in nature? Maybe I should just sit here quietly and look pretty.”

“Ha!” Jake cackles. “I would love to see you try.”

“Hangman!” Bradley, who’s sitting to your right, gives him a disapproving look.

You make a grimace. “I will never give you that kind of satisfaction.”

Jake meets your gaze with a hostile look. The thought of you satisfying him in any way sort of disorients him. He makes a face at you because he can’t deny that if you were to just sit there in silence, you would be exceptionally pleasant to look at. Pretty, even… maybe. Instead, he says, “How the fuck does eating avocado toast for lunch have global implications? I would love to know.”

“The recent surge in consumption of avocados - thanks to health nuts such as yourself - has led to an unprecedented increase in price to the point where those people whose culinary staple for generations has been the avocado cannot afford to keep it their diet.” You fold your arms over your chest to drive your point home while Jake just stares at you, speechless. No other woman in the world has ever rendered him that. He glances over at Bradley who is looking back at him with a slight grin. Just when Jake thinks you might be all talked out, you add, “And don’t even get me started on the environmental burden of growing enough avocados to sustain the whole of North America’s health culture.”

Jake blinks at you. “Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“The avocado trade is contributing to local violence and extortion” – you continue, but Jake cuts you off.

“Okay, okay!” he says. “I’ll never eat an avocado again.”

“Just quit spreading your avocado propaganda!”

“It’s not propaganda! They’re actually good for you!”

“How wonderful it must be living in a world where your needs come before everybody else’s,” you say bitterly.

“Can we please talk about something other than avocados?” he says tiredly, his eyes sliding to Bradley in a plea for assistance.

“If you’re looking for a topic on which I do not have an opinion” – you say, but Jake interrupts you again.

“Does such a topic exist?” he asks flatly.

You roll your eyes at him. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who should talk less?”

Jake nods. “Certainly. I should talk less to you. Because you’re driving me crazy, lady.” He stands up after having downed the rest of his drink. “I’m getting another beer and, when I return, I’m going to have a conversation with my good friend here, Rooster.”

Bradley shakes his head and looks over at you. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a bitter, bitter man.”

“A bitter man who needs to be schooled on occasion,” you mutter.

Jake turns to look at you with wide eyes. He slides back into his seat. “I heard that,” he says dangerously, inclining into the table.

“Good,” you respond, leaning forward so that your noses are nearly touching. “You were meant to.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” he whispers, his eyes slipping momentarily to your mouth as you lick your lips.

“Hangman, come on, don’t be a dick,” Bradley says, also putting his weight into the table in an attempt to intervene.

Jake’s eyes are still scanning your face as you glare at him without moving away. The truth is, he could probably listen to you talk about the problematic export of Mexican avocados for hours just to watch your mouth move and to hear the passion in your voice. But he’s tired of the tunnel vision he experiences every time your boyfriend ditches you and you end up going out with your best friend, Bradley Bradshaw. This is the fifth time this month that you’ve accompanied Rooster to ‘guys’ night out’ and it’s becoming more and more difficult for Jake to shake you after each successive evening of relentless verbal sparring.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake can see Bradley slowly inching off the table, having realized that he may be a third wheel. But Jake doesn’t need him to be some sort of wingman in this bizarre scenario where he may or may not be completely in love with an unavailable woman who happens to be an expert at pushing all his goddamn buttons. Normally, he would remedy this kind of matter with a good old romp in the hay but, considering the fact that you are in a relationship, this option is, unfortunately, off the table. Besides, he’s not entirely sure it wouldn’t have the opposite effect on him, anyway.

But, despite all the reasons for avoiding your pull, Jake can’t look away, not even for a second; not even to get another beer. He moves his face a millimeter closer to yours, just to see what would happen; not because your breath smells like Peach Schnapps and not because your eyes are absolutely destabilizing him. His nose is about a split second away from brushing yours when your phone buzzes on the table. You flinch, withdrawing immediately, leaving Jake to watch you try to frantically pick it up. You shoot him one last intimidating look before rising from the table.

“Hey, babe,” he hears you say as you walk away.

“What’s your deal, man?” Bradley says as Jake watches you step outside.

Jake shakes his head solemnly. “Doesn’t she have other friends to play with?” he asks. “Why’re you always babysitting her?”

Bradley fixes Jake with a knowing look. “Hangman,” he says with a suggestive squint to his eye. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Jake stares at Bradley. “Yeah,” he says. “I want to tell you that your bestie is a pain in the ass, Rooster.”

Bradley’s jaw hardens. “You’re way out of line.”

“Come on, I can’t be the only one who finds her absolutely infuriating. The girl never shuts up!”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “And you don’t, at all, find that sort of thing attractive?” he says sarcastically.

“Attractive? I find it immensely aggravating, actually.”

“So aggravating that you argue right back every time,” Bradley points out with a smirk. “Movies, books, social constructs. Last week, I heard you guys bickering about space waste. What do you even know about space?”

“What does she know about space?” Jake responds angrily, pointing toward the door with his entire arm.

Bradley leans back in his seat with a sigh. “I know that you don’t actually hate her, Jake,” he says. “You can stop pretending.”

“Who’s pretending?” Jake looks up at him aggressively.

Bradley purses his lips. “What if I told you that her boyfriend is a shithead?”

Jake’s jaw tightens but he continues to stare at Bradley coldly. “Why the fuck would I care?” he says.

Bradley returns his callous expression before looking away. “Been trying to get her out of that relationship for months.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “She’s a grown-ass woman, she can decide for herself if she wants to end it.”

Bradley nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jake rises from his seat, his eyes unintentionally drifting up to check if you’re still outside. He sees you pacing back and forth through the big window of the bar. You look like you’re arguing. Big surprise. “Want another beer?” he asks Bradley.

“Please,” Bradley says.

Jake nods at the cocktail you’ve been drinking. “She going to have another one?”

Bradley shrugs. “Probably, unless you’ve pissed her off enough that she decides to leave early.”

Jake scoffs. “She’d be doing me a favor.”

Bradley shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t even know what she’s drinking, man.”

Jake shifts his jaw. “I do.”

Bradley gives him another piercing look. “Shocking,” he says with a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up, Bradshaw,” Jake says under his breath as he walks away. He glances back at the window behind which you’re now waving your arm around aggressively and yelling into the phone. He tears his gaze away from you, frustrated with himself for even giving a damn.

For some reason, he feels a painful pang in his chest, like he’s jealous of whomever it is you’re tearing into. You’ve never gone off on him quite like that and he can’t help the resentment this fosters. He tries to suppress the impulse to go out after you and rip your stupid phone right out of your hand. That would surely reclaim at least a fraction of your attention. Then maybe he could do something unexpected; something that might persuade you to channel your passion in a more constructive way.

He orders three drinks and walks back to the table with the beers before going back for your cocktail. When he returns, he exhales sharply, giving Bradley a humorless look. “Why’s her boyfriend a shithead?” he says, feeling his hands forming into fists before Bradley even has a chance to respond.

But, right when Bradley’s about to speak, you walk back into the bar.

Read Part 2

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this piece! It's my first Hangman story, so let me know what you think!

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[kissitbttr]

eddie earns his first blowjob from his mean cheerleader girlfriend

warning: 18+, oral receiving, insecure eddie,

a/n: this was requested but i lost the ask lmao, enjoy. also not really that filthy xx

-

sex has never been his forte,

sure he jerks himself off and has a pile of porn magazines stacked underneath his bed but never actually experienced… sex.

girls aren’t exactly lining up to be getting dicked down by him. not when you’re the town freak. if anything, they avoid him like a plague. the only time girls want to be around eddie is just so that he can give them free greens and nothing else. he’s not stupid, he can tell what their true intentions are.

so when y/n came into his life. he has no idea what to expect. obviously, she’s far more experienced and skilled when it comes to it and it makes him feel slightly insecure. and jealous too. because he knows all of her exes were handsome jocks who probably scored more than twenty girls in their lives. no doubt that they had given her so much pleasure than he could possibly offer.

he wants to make her feel good. he really does.

“so, steve and robin gave me these” she pulls up two DVDs and show them to him. “evil dead and carrie. which one do you like best?”

he cocks an eyebrow, eyes switching between the two films. “i thought you wanted chick flicks or something like that?”

she shrugs, deciding to put evil dead on the player. “horror movies make me horny. and what better way to watch it than with my favorite man, hm?”

he chuckles nervously when she shoots him a wink and a smile. flirtatious one. “usually girls get horny when they see porn. but oh, not you. pretty fucked up if i might say.”

“you love it” she responds, crawling beside him as they both lay comfortably on her bed. “how’s your day, baby”

he puffs out a long exaggerated breath. “kind of shit, ms.O'Donnell been up my ass about the last assignment. she wanted me to re-do it.”

“aw that sucks” she pouts, running her fingers through his hair. “want me to beat her up for you?”

“no, i’m good” he laughs, not wanting her to do something that’ll damage her academics. the thing is about y/n, when she says something along the lines of ‘beating someone up’ you better not take it lightly.

because she will do it.

“too bad. I’d love to see her blood pouring out of those nostrils.” she sighs, plopping her head down on his chest as she hooks her leg with his. his arm wraps around her body protectively. “the offer still stands.”

“hey, enough of that would ya?” he kisses the crown of her head, smiling to himself. “as sexy as it is to see you get violent, the consequences will be ten times worse if you punch a teacher.”

“just gotta wait till graduation then.” she innocently replies, finger drawing circles on his chest.

halfway through the movie, eddie is trying his best to keep his focus on the plot. but she’s making it so hard for him to do so. she continuously shifts her weight on him, ‘accidentally’ brushing against his hard shaft with an innocent ‘oops’ every time she does it.

they’ve been together for almost a month and he hasn’t gotten used to the effect she has on him. it’s frustrating how he can’t control his thoughts and clammy palms whenever she puts her hands on his body.

“you okay?” she wonders, looking up at him with her doe eyes and playful smile. “you feel so tense, teddy”

“y-yeah” he stammers as his focus remains fixed on the screen. “just uhm, peachy”

peachy?? who the fuck says that?!

she hums in response, moving her mouth to attach itself on his neck with fingers moving down south to softly palm him over the thick material of his pants. he takes in a deep breath at the touch, finding it more difficult to think straight with her lips on him.

“y/n” he calls her softly, hand gripping tightly around her waist as he feels himself grow even more. “sweetheart i-“

she shushes him. “you look so good right now i have to do something eds.” her tongue licks a bold stripe on the skin, pushing her chest against his, “we can take turns later, yeah?”

he gulps, body melting under her touch. “s-shit, y/n wait, wait!“ he suddenly exclaims, freeing himself from her grip

y/n frowns when eddie pushes her lightly. feeling annoyed why he’s like that towards her.

“eddie what the fuck?! do you not want me to suck your cock?” she harshly asks, then a sudden realization hits her. “are you fucking another bitch behind my back, munson?!”

he wide-eyed her as she crosses her arm, ready to kill him at that exact moment. “what? no! w-what makes you think I’m cheating on you?!”

“who is it?” she shoots immediately. “Julia from the cheer team or that fucking weird four-eyed wendy’s looking motherfucker at loves to stare at you across the hall?!”

eddie is confused. he doesn’t even know who she’s talking about, let alone a wendy-looking girl that keeps staring at him. how does she even know that?

he shakes his head furiously, wrapping her hands in his grasp to reassure her.“no! oh god y/n, of course not! . i only got my eyes for my girl, you know that. plus, Julia? she hates me and my friends, why would you even think of her?”

“then what’s going on!” she groans, moving to kneel in front of him as he sits up straight. “every time we make out or when i try to suck you off, you’d push me away. are you not attracted to me, anymore?”

“princess, believe me when i say this has nothing to do with you! of course I’m still attracted to you.” he says, looking at her in the eye. “shoot me in the head if i decided to leave you for another woman, i give you the permission.”

“okay, so what is it?” her voice turns soft. “you can tell me.”

sooner or later, of course, eddie has to tell her the truth. he hates having to keep secrets from her, but it’s embarrassing. who the hell wants to date a virgin? if she found out about that, she’d look at him differently. and he doesn’t want to lose her. not when things start to get better for him,

she notices how his eyes drop down to his lap, fiddling with his fingers as he removes his hands from hers. this causes her eyebrows to knit in concern.

“baby? what’s going on” she reaches out to softly pat her thumb across his cheek,

“it’s pretty embarrassing” he lowly chuckles,

“it’s not if it got you all worked up like this. come on, It’s your girl.” she ducks her head down a bit to take a look at his features,

he exhales. “well you know it’s just that i…” he trails off, “never had sex before..”

“what?!” she sounds genuinely surprised. “you’re a virgin?”

he nods, slowly looking up to meet her eyes. “yeah. it’s why i have been so… weird. I’m sorry. i know you expected more from me.”

seeing him get so vulnerable and embarrassed because of that makes her heart break. that’s why he’s been avoiding her touch? god, this man is so precious she feels like she’s going to pass out.

“eddie, you don’t have to be sorry for being … inexperienced. there’s nothing wrong with that. and ‘expected more’? baby, you are already enough for me.” she cradles his face to get him to look at her. “do you think i care about whether you’re a virgin or not? because i don’t.”

“well, you’ve been with those guys before, right? i bet they made you feel good. and i want to do that too. perhaps even better.”

oh her heart is about to leap out of her chest.

“made me feel good? they thought they were doing something. i had to fake it because they barely knew how to do it”. she rolls her eyes, earning a small laugh from him.

“plus, i think it’s cute that no one has ever touched you before.” she giggles, pressing a kiss on his nose,

“well i don’t want to be cute! i want to be hot. for you” he grumbles, frowning like a small child.

“you are, baby” she giggles, even more, shaking her head at this adorable man. “so cute and hot, you make my head spin and panties drop. not a day goes by that i do not think of you”

“you mean that?” his voice small. “because you don’t have to say that just because I’m your boyfriend.”

“i meant every word. do you know how many girls i had to threaten and slammed against the wall for eyeing you? countless.”

“you never told me that…”

“not important” she waves her hand in an attempt to change the subject. “now… how about i make you feel good, hm?”

she moves to put her weight on top of him, putting her legs on either side of his thighs. his heart is beating a mile per minute the moment she sits there. having no idea where to place his hands, he just place them next to her knees.

there’s a twinkle of lust across her eyes, the straps of her blue nightgown falling down her shoulders. long messy hair tucks on the either side of her neck

“but i want to make you feel good too. make you cum on my fingers” he struggles to say each word when her hand begins to untie the strings of his sweatpants.

“we have plenty of time to do that, but … i think my boyfriend deserves it more. don’t you think?”

“well... only if you want to” he's being shy, cheeks red and it drives her mad how cute he's being with her

“of course, i want to.” his pants are pulled now down on his thighs and his cock springs free. “would you let me take care of you?”

he nods frantically, becoming putty underneath her bedroom eyes as she slowly wraps her soft palm around the base of his hard shaft. eddie had never thought her eye contact is strong enough to make his body tremble.

“f-fuck, sweetheart” he blows a sigh of pleasure when she goes down to lick the tip, humming to herself when she finally got a taste of him,

he watches every move she makes. afraid that if he misses just one second, he will regret it. it still doesn't feel real to him. having the prettiest girl in Hawkins as his girlfriend going down on his cock. with a sweet, innocent look decorating her features, enough to make him cream already. but he's holding it.

dear god, he's trying to hold it.

”not even halfway through but you taste so good to me already” she smiles with her tongue still out, he catches a glimpse of her piercing and almost lets out a moan. ”and you have been hiding this from me? not nice”

the minute she slips his cock into her mouth, he's a goner already. brown eyes lulling onto the back of his head with a soft grunt following. she drags her tongue slowly from the base of his shaft, all the way up before closing her mouth around the reddening tip. keeping her eyes on him as she goes, who seems to be having a hard time trying to compose himself.

a devilish smile appears on her face, and her freshly manicured hand reaches out to give his balls a soft squeeze. he flinches at the sudden contact, groaning and moaning when she works on her tongue around him.

”does that feel good, eds?” she checks on him to make after pulling her mouth off. making sure he’s enjoying every moment. coating the tip with her spit before she spreads it with her thumb, ”like having my mouth on you?”

he can only nod to answer, his body is consumed by too much euphoria to give her a verbal response. chest raising with a heavy breath every time her fingers tip-toeing over the sensitive skin. balling his fists so hard, he wouldn't be surprised if his fingernails create a dent in his palms,

”use your words, come on” she moves her hand up and down the stiff flesh with a soft grip, watching his mouth fall open.

”fuck yes. it feels so good b-baby please... don't stop, please” he begs in between breaths, almost sounding like a squeak. eddie finally opens up his eyes to gaze back at her. giving her, his best pleading look, ”i wanted your mouth for so long”

”good boy” with that, she slides his cock back into her wet mouth. while her other hand runs up and down his thigh, sending a light shiver down his spine and arising goosebumps on his skin

eddie's fingers are curling up against the sheets. a strangled noise leaving his throat when the sight of her breasts almost spilling out from the dress. looking like a proper porn star.

he thinks he might actually pass out from this. the velvety insides of her mouth make his head spin and her tongue never seemed to stop teasing the tip. his legs are tense and she can see it from the corner of her eye. she’s taken by surprise when his hips accidentally bucking up, hitting the back of her throat.

”shit, s-sorry about that, sweetheart” he softly tells her, earning a squeeze on his thigh from her as a reassurance that it's okay.

he feels his body is blazing. he can't exactly describe it but it feels so good. pure bliss blooms inside of him when she continues to bob her head up and down. and fuck, eddie doesn't want to cum just yet. but he can't take it anymore. not when she peers up at him through her lashes, still with that innocent look on her face. or when she reaches out to squeeze his heavy balls of cum.

it gets even more harder when she sinks further, moaning around his cock because the sweet, sweet taste of him is creating an excitement that bubbles in her stomach

“f-fuck, fuck. i'm cumming” he rushes, thinking that she might pull away but she only wraps her lips tighter around him. sucking even harder until he releases it all. thick, white string of cum falling in her mouth and painting her tongue. eddie cries out in pleasure, screwing his eyes shut.

his fingers slowly start to loosen the grip around the sheets, his breath going steady, and relaxes both his legs.

she pops off of him, brushing a finger in the corner of her mouth to swipe his remaining. not wanting it to go to waste. “you're so adorable” with a giggle, she plops herself next to him, “how was it?”

“fucking amazing” he laughs breathlessly, rubbing his face up and down with his hands before facing her. a lopsided smile tugging her lips. ”god you were so good with it, I thought I was going to die”

“never heard that one before” she snickers playfully, making herself comfortable underneath the duvet. cuddling up to him. “you tasted so good too, what's the secret?”

he pretends to think while pulling herself close to him. “cheerios and cigarettes”

she swats his chest with the back of her hand, making him laugh. ”I'm gonna make you some real food. my man needs to have the stamina if he's planning to fuck me with his cock.”

he freezes, leaning back slightly to take a good look at her face to see if she's pulling his leg. “what?”

“you heard me.” her voice is stern but also playful. “you're gonna fuck me into oblivion and I will guide you through it if I have to. and we're not stopping until you make both of my legs shake that i can’t fucking walk to school tomorrow.”

eddie is certain he's in heaven right now

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

The Divorce: Part II

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Read Part I here

“What does winning the case even mean? How do you win a divorce?” Lauren asked Y/N confusedly. The small cafe was basically empty as the two women sat across from each other, talking in quiet voices. 

“I’m not exactly sure. I think he just means that he leaves the relationship with everything he wants to keep. I’ll try and ask next time I see him, but he doesn’t usually let me get a word in. The man loves the sound of his own voice.” Y/N grinned as Lauren laughed at her description of the CEO. 

“I can’t believe he wants you to go out on a date with him. He literally just got out of a relationship… he moves quickly.”

“It’s not a date! Is it? It’s just a congratulatory lunch right? Right?”

“If you say so Y/N.” Lauren giggled at the bright colour of Y/N’s cheeks as she came to the realisation that Mr Styles possibly wanted to go on a date with her. 

“I don’t know what it is,” Lauren continued. “But I do know that he had a reputation before he got married.”

“What kind of reputation?”

“He was a no relationship kind of guy. He would fuck women, normally not more than once, before moving onto the next one. It’s why the media went wild trying to figure out what made Sofia different. No one knows why he gave up his lifestyle for her. Just… be careful Y/N. I don’t think you know what you could be getting yourself into.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond as her phone buzzed.

Unknown: How’s the case coming along?

Y/N looked quizzically at the text from the unknown number. After a few moments she realised there was only one person it could be from.

Y/N: Mr Styles, how did you get my number?

Y/N: The case is fine, but you do know that I’m only assisting on this right?

“Is that him?” Lauren asked. Y/N nodded sheepishly.

Harry Styles: I have my ways.

Harry Styles: Yes Miss Williams, I’m aware that you’re an assistant. I just prefer talking to over Robert.

“Ask him what he means by “win the case.” Lauren urged. Y/N shook her head at her friends eagerness before typing out a message.

Y/N: Well since I have your number now, can I ask a question?

Harry Styles: Ask away darling.

Y/N ignored the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the nickname. 

Y/N: What exactly constitutes as winning the case for you?

Mr Styles: If I manage to keep our house, I count that as a win. I don’t care about anything else materialistic. Just the house.

Y/N: How come?

She watched as the 3 dots indicating he was typing appeared and then disappeared. After waiting, Y/N realised she wasn’t going to get a response. 

“It’s probably something super sentimental. Which is strange. I didn’t take him as the sentimental type.” Lauren mused, reading over Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Neither did I. But I’ve only met him once. I don’t know him at all really.” 

The topic changed after that and Y/N finished her latte, bidding Lauren a quick goodbye before heading to the office for the day. 

Sofia Styles, was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Cascading brown curls sat perfectly below her shoulders and crystal blue eyes made her look like she’d walked straight off a runway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Styles stiffen as his ex-wife walked into the room accompanied by her legal representation. 

“Sofia thank you for joining us. We’re aware that this is a difficult process for yourself and Mr Styles so we’re hoping to make this quick and easy for the both of you.” Robert smiled as warmly as he could in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the room. 

“You can address me as Mrs Styles. It’s still my name.” Sofia sniffed and Y/N refrained from rolling her eyes. 

“Not for long.” Mr Styles bit out. Sofia seemed slightly taken aback by his tone, and her eyes glistened for a moment before she blinked the forming tears away. 

“Is everyone ready to begin?” Robert asked. After receiving, albeit disgruntled nods, they began dividing everything. 

Y/N quickly realised that Mr Styles stayed true to his word. He had meant it when he said all he wanted was their house. He offered everything over to Sofia, their dogs, two of their cars, their holiday home in Italy and the small apartment in Paris. 

“And now for the house Mr Styles currently resides in. It’s my impression you purchased this home before you met Sofia?” Robert asked. 

“You could say that.” 

Y/N raised her brows at the vague response, but one look at Mr Styles’ face told her that now was not the time for questions. 

“Mr Styles has requested the house return fully in his name although Sofia’s name was added to the lease after they were married. Do we have an agreement from both parties?” Robert looked in between the ex couple warily. 

“Hold on I don’t think-“ Sofia started to protest. 

“Sofia. Please. You know how much that place means to me. I can’t lose it.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the hardened man beside her plead with his ex-wife. What was it about this house that was so special?

“Please.” He said again. 

Sofia’s gaze softened slightly before she nodded once. Robert exhaled quietly at the agreement, rapidly pulling out papers for both of them to sign. Once everything was done, Sofia stood, gathering her things. She walked around the table to where Mr Styles sat beside Y/N and squeezed his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the contact, and at this, she removed her hand. 

“I’m sorry Harry. I really am. I want you to know that I loved you with my whole soul for a time.” Sofia said.

She waited for a few moments and when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to get a response, Sofia turned and left, her lawyer hot on her heels. Mr Styles had taken an apparent interest on the going ons outside the window, gripping the arm of his chair tightly. Robert gathered his papers and motioned silently for Y/N to talk to him, leaving her alone in the room with him. 

“Mr Styles? Are you alright?” Y/N asked softly, placing a hand where Sofia’s had been. Only this time he didn’t flinch. 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be. I got what I wanted.” He removed his gaze from the window and looked Y/N in the eye. The eye contact made her slightly uncomfortable but she held his stare. 

“Well… it would be understandable if you weren’t fine. Sofia was a big part of your life.”

“And now she’s gone. I told you, everyone leaves eventually. Or I push them away. It was bound to happen and I’m ok with it.”

“If you ever need to talk about it I-“

“I said I was fine Miss Williams. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Come on, we’re going to be late to lunch.” He stood abruptly, buttoning his jacket and opening the door for her. 

“Lunch? Now?”

“You agreed to come to lunch with me if we won. We won, hence the reason I’m taking you out for lunch. We have things to discuss.” 

“Mr Styles I don’t really have time for this right now. Perhaps another time?” Y/N waited with bated breath for his response. 

“Let’s go. There’s a car downstairs.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Y/N sighed, following him into the waiting vehicle. 

Just… be careful Y/N. I don’t think you know what you could be getting yourself into.”

Lauren’s words echoed in her head as Y/N sat across from the rather intimidating CEO, picking at the pasta he had ordered for her. 

It had been a rather quiet affair since they had arrived at the restaurant and the silence was killing her. Y/N lifted her glass of water to her lips as Mr Styles finally opened his mouth to speak. 

“Have you ever thought about being a submissive, Miss Williams?”

Y/N choked on her glass of water, spluttering and coughing for a good while as Mr Styles watched, offering her a napkin, an impassive look on his face. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I asked whether you’d ever thought about being a submissive. Personally, I think you’d be quite good at it.” He continued to stare at her, but a small smirk appeared on his face at her disbelief. 

“I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me or trying to suggest Mr Styles.” Y/N’s cheeks were flaming. She obviously found him extremely attractive (she did think his attitude could use some work) but this was ridiculous. This was a professional lunch! Or so she had thought.

“I’m wondering whether you would consider being my submissive. Surely you know what it is to crave a release so strong it has you thinking about it for days. Many things at the office are out of my control as much as I would like to say otherwise. For me, the bedroom is the one place I can know for sure that I’m in control and know that my partner is willing to give up their control to me. I need a distraction for a while; someone I can rely on to be there when I need them. It would be mutually beneficial of course. I’m told I’m quite a natural when it comes to that department.” His smirk widened, but there was something else in his eyes. Desire.

“I find you quite attractive Miss Williams. I have since the day you walked into my office all flustered. Having someone I can take to events would also be helpful so as to dissuade women who have recently heard of my divorce from making a move.” 

“So you want to own me. That’s what you’re saying.” Y/N finally found her voice.

“No. Well. Not completely. We could go somewhere more private for me to explain all the details.”

“You’re crazy.” Y/N pushed her chair back, ready to stand and leave but he grabbed her wrist. 

“Possibly. But deep down, I think a small part of you is curious. When was the last time someone touched you in a way that had you craving more? Ever wonder what it’s like to be tied up and letting someone else be in complete control of your pleasure? Have you ever had a guy make you come more than once? Or at all? I bet all this talk is making you wet isn’t it sweetheart?” 

Y/N heart fell to her ass at the way he called her sweetheart in that delectable accent of his. She had to admit he was right. Everything he was talking about had her clenching her thighs, craving a release. But what he was proposing was madness. 

“This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. You just got out of a marriage for god’s sake Harry.” Y/N didn’t miss the way he grinned at the way she finally used his first name. 

“Just… think about it.” Harry said, still holding her arm. 

“I have to go. Thank you for lunch Mr Styles, I appreciate it.” She wrenched her wrist out of his grip as she left the restaurant. She knew he had let her leave, if he had really wanted her to stay she knew her strength would have been no comparison to his. 

“Holy shit.” Y/N muttered to herself as she called a cab. When she had agreed to lunch she hadn’t known it would turn into this. 

Y/N’s head was spinning. It had been three days since Harry’s proposal and all she could think about was him. He had been radio silent and Y/N didn’t know what to make of it. She couldn’t be considering it… could she?

She had so many questions. Many of which she had typed out in a text to Harry himself, deleting them before she could press send. On this particular night, Y/N was quite a few glasses in to the bottle of red wine sitting on her coffee table as The Notebook played in the background. 

She was, once again typing out a text to Harry that she had no intention of sending.

Y/N: If I was to agree to this, you’re telling me you’d be using me for sex and as arm candy?

Reaching over to refill her glass, she groaned in frustration, as her phone slipped from her hand into the couch cushions. Y/N fumbled around blindly as she pulled it out, eyes widening at the delivered sign underneath her message. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Y/N whispered to herself as the delivered sign changed to read. She waited a beat. Then two. She sighed in slight relief as the three dots indicating a response were no where to be found. 

Then her phone started ringing.

Incoming call: Harry Styles

Y/N swiped across the screen with her eyes half closed as she tried to decline the call. The ringing stopped and she exhaled in relief. 

“Thank fuck.” She said outloud. “I did NOT want to talk to him tonight.”

“Talk to who?” The familiar low tones of his voice rumbled through her phone. 

Y/N was silent. She couldn’t believe she was this stupid.

“Miss Williams? Are you there?” Y/N could practically hear his smirk over the phone. 

“… Yes.” She mumbled out. 

“So it seems you’re considering my offer after all.” 

A/N: HiiI!!! I didn't expect to get another part out so soon but I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! What do you guys think is the reason Harry is so attached to the house? Are you liking the story so far? Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Read Part III here

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harrys-flower @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @intimacywithceline

[hedghost]

Please can you write about Alesia having the hots for the girl cleaning her pool😩just something about her wearing sunglasses to try to hide the fact she keeps staring the pool girls abs

alessia russo / hot and bothered

amidst her heavy football schedule, alessia rarely got a day to just relax, and so she relished her occasional time off, and none more so than when she got the chance to go back to her family home in italy.

just the chance to do nothing at all, to relax into the familiar motions of a place she knew well, where she could spend all day sunning herself by the pool, or chilling inside with her family, only really moving once the sun had gone down. it was easy, and it was uncomplicated, and thats why she loved it.

or at least, it was usually uncomplicated. normally, there were no unwanted distractions from her dedicated rest and relaxation time. today, though, as she tanned on a sunbed on the patio, something else had caught her attention. someone else.

as much as she didn’t want to, alessia tended to rise early. despite being on holiday, she still had to keep her body clock in some sort of rhythm, and so, far earlier than she would’ve liked, she extricated herself from her sheets, haphazardly threw on a bikini, and padded downstairs in such of something to keep her occupied until everyone else woke up.

no one else seemed to be awake, and so alessia grabbed herself a drink and headed out to the pool. at this hour, the sun was not yet at its peak, and the heat wasn’t unbearable, so she figured she’d be able to grab both a bit of extra sleep and a tan.

alessia wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going, still half asleep and precariously balancing a coffee in one hand as she navigated the edge of the pool, and so she only noticed she had company when she tripped over her own two feet. she braced herself for a rather watery impact, but it never came.

instead, alessia found herself staring, dumbfounded, into the eyes of potentially the prettiest girl she’d ever seen.

stai bene? you asked as you righted alessia, strong hands gently tugging her away from the water’s edge.

alessia’s italian was a little rusty, sure, but she knew enough to understand that phrase. still though, she only swallowed, cheeks flushing as she flicked between not wanting to look away and wanting to bury her head in the proverbial sand.

when she didn’t respond, you repeated yourself in english.

you alright?

alessia blushed. great - now you probably thought she was stupid, as well as clumsy. nice going less.

alessia swallowed, her throat considerably dryer than it had been before. she pulled her gaze away from your eyes, which were twinkling with a sort of gentle bemusement that alessia suddenly wanted to bask in forever.

sorry, i- uh, yeah alessia exhaled as her composure regained itself, smiling softly as she nodded yeah, i’m fine, sorry, are you?

it occurred belatedly to alessia that she probably should’ve asked in italian, and she cursed her ineptitude around pretty girls once again. her worries subsided however when you answered easily in fluent english, flashing her a glinting smile.

yeah, i’m all good

alessia nodded but didn’t move from where she stood, still facing you. her mind raced with ways not to end the conversation, although she perhaps should’ve been instead questioning why exactly a strange girl was walking around her pool at 8 in the morning. in hindsight, it was a good thing you weren’t a burglar, because alessia would’ve been of no use whatsoever, seemingly lovestruck as she was.

you rubbed the back of your neck with a grin, gesturing to the pool awkwardly and looking at her with an expectant smirk. it was only then that alessia tore her eyes from your face, down to the mass of pool cleaning equipment you gripped in your arms. very toned, bronze arms, alessia noted with a blush, before she mentally slapped herself.

oh! right, you’re here to clean the pool?

that’s me, you said with a grin. alessia flushed - was the sun getting hotter, or was it the fact you still hadn’t broken eye contact that was riling her up like this? you pointed past alessia towards the water again.

may i? i don’t want to disturb your morning

alessia nodded and stepped to the side to allow you past. she watched you walk away, swallowing at how your back muscles rippled under the vest you wore. a little awkwardly she called after you.

yeah, you’re fine!

you turned to her, smirking, one eyebrow raised in silent question. alessia scrambled to explain. god she was so bad at this.

i mean like, you’re fine, as in it’s fine, like, it’s not - you’re not disturbing me. she felt her cheeks flush and she trailed off rather lamely- is what i mean

mercifully though, you laughed and nodded. even from the increased distance between you, alessia could feel the intensity of your eyes, felt pierced in the best way possible by your gaze. you turned and set to work.

alessia, still reeling giddily from the interaction, settled herself on a nearby sun lounger. pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes, she sipped absentmindedly at her coffee. she tried to read her book (honestly, she did) but soon gave up after her eyes flicked over the same paragraph for the fourth time.

she was trying to ration herself to only the occasional glance up at you working, but clearly your body demanded more attention than her brain could handle. she kept her eyes trained on the book, trying to distract herself, but you were all she could focus on right now.

allowing herself the grace to sneak a look up once more, alessia nearly choked on her drink. you’d removed your vest, leaving you in only a bikini top and very small shorts. glad for the cover of her sunglasses, alessia took in your toned abs, the slight sheen of sweat that clung to them as you worked in the morning heat.

alessia thought she was being subtle, that she was totally not obvious as she shamelessly checked you out. she wasn’t sure how long she watched, not thinking of much other than how your fingers gripped your equipment, the way your biceps flexed as you worked, how it might feel to be gripped those fingers, be held by those arms-

stop it alessia. you don’t even know her.

she was so preoccupied with watching you (and the rather detailed thoughts that watching you provoked) that she didn’t notice your laugh, or the way you cleared your throat one, two times.

everything okay?

you called, grinning at how alessia jumped and averted her eyes. you smirked. alessia tried to stutter a response but you just laughed goodnaturedly, walking over to her sunlounger.

the sunglasses could only hide so much. they didn’t hide her blush. you pointed it out to her with a smile.

you’re a bit pink, would you like some sun lotion?

if alessia had thought she couldn’t talk before, this was a whole new level. the stuttered squeak she let out was so unlike her that it only set her off blushing madly again.

you produced, out of god knows where, a bottle of sunblock, and gestured to alessia’s shoulders.

may i?

alessia could only nod - surely this was some very steamy dream? or had she stumbled into the set of a cliche romance film?

alessia flinched slightly as the cold cream touched her back. at least that was the excuse she was going with. definitely nothing to do with the gentle yet firm touch of your fingers as you massaged the cream gently over her back, the way your touch was like static shock, sending currents of need all throughout her body. nope, definitely not.

she felt like she was combusting, like every vein inside her was screaming with equal measures unadulterated pleasure and crushing embarrassment. taking a deep breath, alessia allowed herself instead to relax into your hands- to relax into this insanely attractive situation she’d magically found herself in. as bizarre as it was, she had no complaints.

alessia barely realised when you stopped, too blissfully unaware of what was going on. it was only when you walked around to face her that she regained some semblance of self-control. finding her voice, she spoke, thankfully able to string words together now.

thank you

you smiled, shrugging as you did so.

not a problem, wouldn’t want you to burn

just like that you stood, beginning to gather your various pieces of cleaning equipment.

oh, are you leaving?

yep, all done for the day, then you turned back to alessia and winked- show’s over i’m afraid

alessia blushed again. okay so maybe she hadn’t been that subtle. mercifully, you didn’t seem annoyed. in fact, the smile you flashed her was borderline encouraging to her fantasies. you waved as you turned, calling over your shoulder with a borderline devilish smirk.

same time tomorrow?

alessia grinned. she leaned back on the sun lounger feeling considerably hot and bothered, and also maybe a little smug. it looked like she’d found her early morning entertainment for the holiday.

[lambertdiary]

If you're not too busy could you write a dalton x reader fic? The concept is that Dalton constantly says he hates winter/the cold. But when it comes around and Y/n is always clinging to his arm when they walk, or trying to cuddle more and is super excited to show off her cute layered outfits, he suddenly doesn't mind it anymore?

I feel like he'd go bright red if you grabbed his hands and warned them up in your gloves

Thank you! I love your writing

A/N: THIS IS SO CUTE. this was requested ages ago but hopefully the sweet anon is still around to read this!! so sorry it took so long. Also I’m sorry this is so short.

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: pure fluff

MASTERLIST     ✩    SEND ME A REQUEST

You Keep Me Warm

Dalton hated the cold weather, he’s never been able to stand it and he preferred to stay inside and protect himself from whatever was going on outside than having to wear puffy jackets and be uncomfortable the whole time.

Not this time though. It was his anniversary with Y/N and he couldn’t possibly suggest they stay in his dorm all day. No, he had plans.

Dalton knew Y/N like the palm of his hand, knowing exactly what would excite her and what she would be down to do on a day like this. Unlike him, she loved cold weather, but especially snowy days, so he knew he’d be making his girlfriend happy with what he had planned.

He finished wrapping his gift and went to the dorm above his, wondering if his outfit would be enough to keep him warm out there. He knocked on the door and quickly fixed his hair before Y/N opened it.

“Hi” Y/N greeted him as she jumped for a hug, which he happily accepted “Happy anniversary”

“Happy anniversary” He replied, kissing her lips.

“Please, don’t mind me” Chris joked from her bed.

“Hi Chris” He acknowledged his best friend “What do you want for dinner?”

Y/N and Dalton always got her something to eat whenever they left campus. She was sick of the food there but she didn’t have the energy to go all the way to town “Anything but pizza”

Dalton nodded “Are you ready?” he asked, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Yes!” She was really excited “Look, I got this coat yesterday and it’s really warm. I think I wanna wear it on top of this, what do you think? Too many layers?”

He smiled at her “You look beautiful, baby”

“Thanks”

“Um… I made this for you” Y/N took the package in her hands, she already knew what it was but she was really excited to see it.

“Thank you” She kissed him again and gave him a hug “Should I open it?”

“Go ahead” He responded. He was an incredible artist and Y/N was probably his biggest fan, but he still got nervous whenever he showed her something he did.

Y/N opened it carefully, and when she saw the beautiful painting she almost started crying “I love it” It was a recreation of their first date, their first kiss, to be more specific “I also have a gift for you but I’ll give it to you later”

“Agh” Chris dramatically exclaimed “Leave me out of this”

“Is nothing like that” She said, throwing one of her pillows at her.

Y/N took the picture and found a spot for it on her wall. She looked at it as if it was her most prized possession, and it probably was. When she turned back to her boyfriend she slowly examined what he was wearing.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Uh-” He felt a little self conscious since he thought he looked good. He obviously did but that was not Y/N’s point.

“Baby, you look great” She said quickly after she noticed his expression change “But you do realize there’s snow outside, right?”

“Yeah, this is warm” He replied, shrugging.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive”

“Alright then”

They said goodbye to Chris and left the dorm, and as soon as they stepped out of the building Dalton regretted his outfit choice, his entire body temperature would rely on his big gloves and his jacket. Y/N was right but he was not about to admit that. It wasn’t too bad when they were in the uber, but as soon as they went back outside he realized how much he hated the fact that he had to deal with a cold body, but he would do it for her.

Their first stop was ice skating, Y/N used to do it all the time when she was back home and when she told Dalton that she was sad she didn’t do it as much as she used to, he looked for an ice skating rink he could take her to.

She could skate flawlessly, anyone who saw her would think that she’s a pro, but Dalton was having a hard time. He was scared to fall and embarrass himself so he decided to skate along the boards in case he needed support.

Just as he was admiring her do her thing, he saw her approach him with an extended hand “Come with me”

“No” He replied right away.

“Come on, I’m not gonna drop you, I promise” She gave him a comforting smile that she knew he couldn’t reject.

Dalton sighed and held Y/N’s hands tightly. At first he didn’t know what to do, but as she skated to the middle he started to let loose and moved along with her.

“See? It’s not that hard”

“Not when you are the one doing all the skating” He laughed.

He loved the feeling of holding her hand the entire time they were there, and whenever he thought he was gonna fall she held him until he was steady again. They did that for about an hour and he couldn’t believe how tiring ice skating was, but at least it warmed him up enough to forget about the horrible weather. Until they left the rink.

Just down the street there was a cute food truck that had a variety of hot drinks for the current weather, including Y/N’s favorite: hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows.

While they were waiting for their hot cocoa, Dalton took off one of his gloves to show Y/N the videos he took of her skating. There were so many and she was blushing really hard.

“No! Delete that one” She begged when he showed her a video of her almost falling. She tried to snatch the phone from his hands but failed when he tauntingly elevated his phone, she couldn’t reach it even if she jumped.

“No, I think it’s cute” He responded, lowering his arm and swiping to show her a different video, and just as he was distracted enough Y/N tried to take the phone from his hands, but stopped when she realized how cold they were.

“Oh my god Dalton, you’re freezing”

He didn’t wanna seem like that was bothering him, he also didn’t wanna admit that she was right “A little” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Here” Y/N took off his other glove after removing her own and cupped both of his hands with hers to help keep the heat in. His hands were a lot bigger but she still managed to do it. Once her hands covered his completely, she started rubbing them and blowing warm air over them.

Dalton just stared at her in awe, maybe the cold wasn’t so bad. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and blushed when she noticed him staring “What?” She asked, stopping the blowing but she kept rubbing his cold hands.

Dalton smiled softly and shook his head “You are amazing”

“I tried telling you-”

“I know, I just- I don’t like the feeling of wearing a lot of layers or puffy jackets, it makes me feel trapped”

She gave him a soft smile “Alright, let’s try something” Y/N returned his gloves and once he had them back on she unzipped her big coat.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Hug me”

“Uh-”

“Hug me under my coat, I promise it’ll help warm you up”

He wrapped his arms around her and she closed her coat around him. He could feel the warmth coming back and the gesture made his heart beat so loud he felt like it was gonna implode.

They stayed like that for a moment, getting weird looks from random people but he didn’t care. He only cared about her “I love you” He whispered before kissing her temple “How are we gonna drink our cocoa?”

tag list! @maddiescinema @emilyahgreen27 @mayathepsychic1999 @daltonshotgf @llvmos @taymour13 @i2raggi @omgrachwrites @fluentmoviequoter [please let me know if you’d like to be removed]

[storiesforallfandoms]

when it’s wrong but it feels right ~ eminem

word count: 2452

request?: yes!

@noah1986​ “hi again! I didnt know i had to write the idea for the story sorry!

Can you do Eminem where the reader works for him like as his assistant or housekeeper and he doesnt't interact a lot with her but thinks shes pretty and then he falls in love💓

thank you🧡”

description: in which he falls for his housekeeper, but he doesn’t tell her because he knows it’s wrong

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (marshall is 50 reader is late 20s)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Marshall never wanted to become the stereotypical rich celebrity. Coming from nothing made him more determined to stay humble about his sudden celebrity status and wealth. But, with his dedication to his work and his constant need to be away from home, he realized that he needed someone to look after his house. At Hailie’s insistence, he looked into getting a housekeeper for the times when he wasn’t home or too busy to take care of the place.

After a long line of interviews they narrowed it down to one candidate: a young lady named (Y/N). She had plenty of housekeeping experience having grown up the daughter of a housekeeper for famous people, and then her first job being the housekeeper at a hotel in Los Angeles that tended to house celebrities. Hailie figured she would be the safest option as her past with working with celebrities meant that she knew how to keep things a secret and they could trust that she wouldn’t take anything from the house.

On her first day of work, Marshall was in his home studio working on a couple of beats for an artist on his record label. The soundproofing in his studio made him forget she was even there until he came out to get something to eat and saw her putting away the clean dishes from the sink. He said hello, but noticed a wire coming from her back pocket to her ears and realized she was listening to music while she worked. It made sense, but he didn’t want her to think she couldn’t play her music out loud if she wanted to. He may not completely like the music depending on what it was, but he wouldn’t stop her from playing it.

He walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder to get her attention. She shrieked in response, spinning around and, in her state of panic, dropping the plate she was holding. It shattered on the floor, pieces of the broken glass scattering over the floor.

“Shit,” she swore, quickly yanking out her headphones and throwing them onto the counter. “I’m so sorry. I forgot you were even here. I didn’t hear you come up from the studio.”

“It’s okay. I probably could’ve announced my arrival in a better way,” Marshall responded.

He knelt down to start picking up the pieces of the broken plate, but (Y/N) quickly stopped him. “Don’t touch it with your bare hands. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll grab the broom and sweep it up.”

Marshall watched as she swept over the entire kitchen floor, making sure that not a single piece of the plate was left on the floor, before sweeping it into the pan and dumping the broken pieces into the garbage.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’ll replace it, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marshall said. “It was just some cheap shit from Walmart that I’ve had for years. It probably would’ve broken if you washed it a little too hard.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I appreciate that. I promise I don’t often break things that belong to my employers. This is the first time I ever have, actually.”

“Well, you can’t exactly blame yourself. I startled you.”

“I shouldn’t have had my headphones in, but again, I forgot you were here.”

“You can play your music out loud, you know. I’m not going to stop you from doing that. I might judge a little bit depending on what type of shit you’re listening to, but I’ll try not to say it to your face too much.”

A small smirk crossed on her face. She unplugged the headphones from her phone and pressed play on the last song she had been listening to. The sound of Marshall’s voice filled the room. He realized it was a song from his most recent album. An amused smile tugged at his lips.

“I haven’t gotten to listen to the entire new album yet,” (Y/N) admitted. “I figured the best place to listen to it would be while I cleaned the house of the man who made it.”

“So you’re a fan.”

She shrugged. “Kind of. My dad always played your music when I was younger and we’d go for long drives. Mom hated it, but he just learned to play it when she wasn’t with us. I guess it just stuck with me ever since.”

They got to talking then. Hours passed and neither of them noticed. (Y/N) told Marshall about herself and her upbringing; her housekeeper mom who had brought her along to some of the higher status houses she cleaned, and her dad who was a well known mechanic in town. She told him that she wanted to be like her mom, so her first job as a teenager was housekeeping for a local hotel, which she ended up working for until she was hired by Marshall.

It wasn’t until the sun went down and the kitchen started to plunge into darkness that (Y/N) realized how much time had passed. A look of panic crossed her face. “Shit. It’s been hours and I haven’t done anything.”

“Hey, it’s fine. You can take the rest of the day off if you want. I’ll still pay you for the whole day and you can start fresh again tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

Marshall nodded. (Y/N) smiled and went to collect her things. “Thanks. I promise I won’t break any dishes tomorrow.”

Marshall chuckled and followed her to the door. They bid each other a goodnight and Marshall watched from the doorway as (Y/N) got into her car and drove off.

Marshall went back to his home studio to keep working, but found it hard to concentrate on what he was doing. His mind kept drifting back to his day with (Y/N). It had been such a long time since he spent hours just getting to know someone and not realizing the time. And it was a genuine conversation. He didn’t once feel like (Y/N) was viewing him like a celebrity. When she first told him she liked his music, he was worried about how things would go between them. Turns out, he didn’t have to worry.

But he also just kept thinking about her in general; the smooth, soothing sound of her voice, the dreamy look she got when she talked about her memories. In fact, just her beautiful face in general. He couldn’t get it out of his head. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

It was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels. She worked for him, for a start. As his housekeeper, of all things. He didn’t want to be a rich cliché, and that especially extended to the “rich employer lusting over his young employee” bullshit. Which led to another big issue: her age. She was only a few years older than Hailie, and wasn’t quite Alaina’s age yet. She was quite literally young enough to be his daughter.

It was wrong, but fuck, he couldn’t help but want her.

So he started leaving whenever he came to work. Whether it was to go to work, into his own home studio, or just some excuse to go visit his daughters. Whatever the case, he had the least amount of interaction with (Y/N) as he possibly could. Which was hard when all he wanted to do was see her.

On one of (Y/N)’s off days, Marshall had decided to use the day to relax and catch up on some shows he had been watching. It was early in the day when he heard a knock at the door. Confused, he got up and went to answer. His heart dropped when he opened the door and found (Y/N) stood there.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you today. What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, crossing her arms. “I know I don’t really have any place to confront you about this, but it’s been bothering me and I need some answers.”

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m just busy,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

“Well, for one the look on your face right now says otherwise.” He looked away, which didn’t help his own argument. “And you told me the other day that you were going over to Hailie’s, but she came here looking for you shortly afterwards.”

Marshall wasn’t sure how to respond. He could’ve easily dismissed the claim and told her to go home. Like she said, she didn’t have any place to question his life. She was just his housekeeper after all, he didn’t owe her any explanation for his personal life.

But his heart wouldn’t let him. Looking at her stood there, concern on her face over the thought of potentially offending him, Marshall knew he couldn't just send her away. It was probably a bad idea, but he figured he couldn’t keep this secret anymore. In fact, it was probably better to tell her now so he could let her go and she could find a better employer.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

She stepped into the house that had become almost more familiar than her own. Marshall led her back to his living room and gestured for her to sit down. She sat on one end of the couch while he sat on the other. They were closer than he had meant for them to be, but he didn’t want to change spots now, or ask her to do so.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” (Y/N) said.

Marshall shook his head. “You didn’t do anything. Trust me, this issue is all me.”

He took a deep breath, hesitant at first, but decided to continue, “Since your first day, where we spent all that time talking and getting to know each other, I’ve found myself...thinking a lot...about you.”

(Y/N) looked at him blankly.

There’s no going back now.

“You are a very beautiful woman. I can’t deny that. But then talking to you on that day made me feel more like a person than I have in a while. I really enjoyed just talking for hours, and I would’ve liked to do that again. But...it’s wrong. I know that, and the last thing I’d want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. So, if knowing this changes your mind about wanting to work for me, I understand. I can find someone else, probably even help you find another job too.”

She still wasn’t speaking. She was still just looking at him, still with a blank look on her face. He wanted her to speak. He needed her to say something. Even if it was just to curse him out and call him some names. Any sort of reaction would’ve been better than this silent treatment.

She looked down at her lap and finally asked, “Can I kiss you?”

The question took Marshall back. His body acted before his mind could even process the question; he nodded. In a flash, (Y/N) was leaning across the couch and pressing her lips against his. It was a shock for the both of them. Neither of them really knew how to react. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should keep it going, Marshall wasn’t sure if he should kiss back. It was awkward for a moment, until (Y/N) felt Marshall’s lips move against hers, followed by the both of them feeling an exploding feeling in their stomachs - like fireworks.

(Y/N) pulled away just as quickly as she kissed him, sitting back in the spot she had been moments before. They both looked at each other in shock, before mirroring smiled stretched across their faces.

“I really liked talking to you that day, too,” (Y/N) said. “At first, it was just this feeling of happiness that I was getting along so well with my new employer. But then you started leaving all the time or spending your time in the studio, and I felt myself becoming sad at the fact that I couldn’t see you. I knew that was a strange way to feel, but then I had this...” She trailed off, embarrassment written all over her face. Her sudden stop drew Marshall’s curiosity. She sighed and continued, “I had this dream about the two of us.”

Now she definitely had his curiosity.

“I realized that what I was feeling was more than just liking my employer,” she said. “And that realization, plus just generally feeling sad that I wasn’t getting to see you was enough to push me to come here today and confront you about it. I was worried it would go wrong considering I am just your employee and you’re not entitled to tell me stuff about your personal life if you don’t want to, but it was bugging me. I had to know why.”

“And now you know,” Marshall said.

She nodded. “Now I know.”

Silence fell over them for a moment. They didn’t make eye contact. There was a question lingering over them that they both knew had to be asked, but neither of them wanted to ask it.

(Y/N) soft voice broke the silence first, “Am I fired?”

Marshall shook his head. “I’m not going to fire you. That would look bad on your resume. But I do think it’s best for both of us if you start working somewhere else.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“I can’t date my staff. That’s just a shitty cliché I would never want to fall into.”

She perked up more at this. “Date?”

Marshall couldn’t help but smile. “That’s what two people who like each other do, isn’t it? They go on a date.”

The happiness radiating off of (Y/N) was contagious. She brightened up more at Marshall’s words. She almost looked like she was about to jump his bones right then and there, but he couldn’t let her. No matter how much he wanted her to, there was a matter that had to be dealt with first.

“I’ll help you find another place to work,” he told her. “Until then, we keep this relationship work based. The minute you have another job, I’ll take you out on the best date of your life.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” (Y/N) said. “Before we shake on it, can I kiss you one more time?”

“Only if you tell me about that dream you had.”

(Y/N) gasped and playfully hit Marshall’s shoulder. He chuckled and grabbed her hand as she was pulling away from him, tugging her towards him so he could kiss her again.

[astromechs]

can I get washing their hair for rebelcaptain? 🥺

fun fact, i received these two asks within about an hour of one another, so great minds really do think alike. anyway, since the other two were heavier, went with something really, really stupid for this one 💕 from this list; still accepting! (and this is now also available on ao3, just like the other fills)

“He does this on purpose,” Jyn grumbles, because she’s too fucking furious for more than a grumble. Well, that and she can’t exactly manage anything else in her current position, head tipped with water-soaked hair obscuring most of her field of vision, palm pressed flat against the shower wall to keep her steady after having to remain like that for so long, but her point still stands.

Could anyone really blame her for being furious? She knows fucking intent when she sees it. There’s no way that a droid with a self-professed “specialty” of strategic analysis hadn’t mapped out what her route around base would likely be today, and there’s no way that he hadn’t been ready with a whole fucking vat of oil in his stupid fucking mechanical hands to drop it over her at just the right fucking moment.

It’d been completely uncalled for, too. So what if she’d cut the power to Kay’s favorite docking port last week and forced him to spend an entire night cycle trapped next to that astromech he hates so much? That had hardly been worth this much torture — and she’ll probably never be able to wear that shirt or vest ever again; they’d practically had to be sliced off of her.

No, there’s a difference between justified retaliation and crossing a line, and Kay had passed that line by a fucking parsec, so he’s the one who’s clearly in the wrong here. That’s her position, and she’s sticking to it.

It’s a position that any reasonable person with sense would agree to, so it’s one that Cassian, logically, will.

But when the hands that have been messaging her scalp still and his response comes, it isn’t an agreement. No, instead, it’s, “He doesn’t mean it,” said in the tone she absolutely hates the most: the one that’s mildly neutral, that comes with the mask he puts on when she knows he doesn’t want to engage with something.

Fuck. For a brief amount of time, she’d actually managed to forget that the person who’s been standing in the shower with her for the past standard hour at least, helping her wash her hair, is the one who’d be the least fucking objective possible on this issue.

If she could turn around, she’d raise an eyebrow and give Cassian her best are you fucking kidding me stare, but since she can’t, she resigns herself to heaving a long, frustrated sigh, one she makes sure can be heard over the running water.

He doesn’t respond for a while, opting instead to continue with his task of rubbing another round of shampoo into her hair. If he were doing this for any other reason, it might feel nice — part of her has been halfway to thinking it at least three times over the past standard hour before she’s stopped herself, because even with the difficulty of what he he’s had to work with, he’s never been too harsh with his touch — but he’s not here for those reasons, and so his silence is annoying. HIs silence leaves her no choice except to try for the sigh again, and really mean it this time.

Eventually, after that, he speaks up again, with a sigh that’s almost as heavy as hers. “I’ll tell him to call it off.”

Finally. Had that been so fucking hard?

To her credit, and she really tries for this, she does her best to leave out that sentiment when she tells him:  “That’s all I’m asking —”

“ — If you also call it off.”

Seriously? Her first instinct is to roll her eyes, which she does, and then her next is to open her mouth for a counterargument, which she also does, only nothing comes out of it. Because maybe, just maybe, she can concede that she’d crossed a line, too, and had provoked something that hadn’t really been worth provoking. It’s just been so quiet, and when things are too quiet, she turns twitchy and restless, and —

She can swallow her pride, even if it means doing so while gritting her teeth.

“Fine.” She guesses she should probably sound less like she’s gritting her teeth, though, so before she elaborates, she takes a beat. “I’ll leave his stupid docking port alone. Will that make him happy?”

Pressed against her, she can feel Cassian lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Happy enough.”

Because she knows him, Jyn can tell, just from his voice, that the beginnings of that stupid smug smirk he likes to flash at her sometimes are there, forming.

Only the shower wall will see, but she scrunches her face and glowers at it with everything she has.

“Fuck you,” she says, though, despite her efforts, she doesn’t manage to inject any real heat into it. “I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

She thinks: she should be annoyed; she should curl her free hand into a fist so that it’ll be ready to give him a nice, solid punch when her position allows. But the thought is gone almost as soon as it surfaces, because — suddenly, in spite of everything, a laugh bursts out of her. A genuine, full-bodied laugh that has her hand shaking against the wall while still trying to hold flat for support, her side stitching, and her breath wheezing.

Behind her, she can hear Cassian joining in earnest, his composure crumbling alongside his current attempt to massage her scalp. His laugh is softer than hers, still trying to find its footing after what has to be years of rust, but it’s undeniable.

Understandably undeniable, because this whole situation really is fucking absurd, isn’t it?

They don’t get many moments like this, but even so, they’ve had more of them together than Jyn can remember having for most of her life before they’d ever met — and it’s a good feeling when they happen. Warm, easy. Safe. The last of the tension she’d been carrying washes away with the water.

And after her laughter subsides and she’s blinked the tears from her eyes, she closes them, relaxing, for the moment, into what she can.

[neoxghoul]

hey, it’s buni (if you know who i am, you know who i am. i know neo does lol) (please don’t tag me if you know who i am. i don’t want to be defined by my past)

i have been a melanie martinez fan like… all my life, and i especially latched on to her music after i was sexually assaulted for the first time. i was around 7 or 8. it was by my cousin who decided it would be fun to grope and kiss me. at first i said okay, because he just asked me to go around the corner with him, then he kissed and groped me. i had no idea how to feel. that’s all i remember. i don’t remember the day, i don’t even remember my exact age.

with sexual assault, you should always believe the victim at first. but then you need to look at the perpetrator and talk to them, or look at their actions. this cousin, who i saw recently last year, was very touchy with me again, dispute me being double the age i was when the assault happened. (i am now 16)

i asked him to stop this time, and he got upset and proceeded to play basketball with our other cousins. it was horrifying to me to know that i went through that with him. i haven’t brought this up since it happened. it’s been over 8 years.

now if you’re wondering why i bring this up, it’s because of the situation with timothy. i do think she is lying. and if she isn’t, she’s exaggerating the events drastically.

let me say, it’s so hard to prove sexual assault or rape in court. i have tried to go through the process, but even a few weeks later was too late. you need to have samples of the other persons dna, video or photographic evidence or something else.

but, with how she keeps telling the story over and over — not to friends, but to a wide audience of people who really don’t even know her — tells me she’s probably lying. she brings it up again when melanie is blowing up, selling a lot of product. she hasn’t directly interacted with her in 7 years, and only now it’s important again?

i get it if she came in contact with melanie, saw her as an opener, or something similar — but nothing like that never happened. she has said “i have been isolating myself”

i saw my perpetrator in person, i was mere inches away from him, and i didn’t shout from the rooftops “he groped me 8 years ago!” but timothy is, mostly likely, MILES AND MILES away from melanie and SHES shouting from the rooftops.

yes, sexual assault is something that effects you for the rest of your life.

i try to bring it up with trump, who admitted he raped a woman, who was convicted. the woman who brought it up — i believe her. because she has been trying to get it in court for YEARS.

timothy hasn’t done anything but post. and then, again, why would she dress up as her rapist the year after?

i, now, have an issue with dating people who look like my perpetrator. i could never dress up as them.

melanie has said “ {she} never said no to what we chose to do together.” which indicated something DID happen between them, but not to the extent that timothy is claiming. melanie never said anything like “oh this bitch is lying about everything. i’m gonna keep bringing it up over and over” and she isn’t doing the opposite either, completely ignoring it. she responded and said basically said something did happen between them.

i don’t think melanie is in the wrong. and it’s not just because i like her music, it’s because i, as another human, have been raped, sexually assaulted and abused MULTIPLE times in my life. it isn’t fun. it doesn’t go away, but it isn’t something you bring up every time the person gets popular.

that’s all i have to say. do i think either parties are fully innocent? no. do i think they both need to take accountability? yes, but i think melanie took hers. timothy needs to stop talking about it and take time herself to heal. like seriously, heal.

healing isn’t bringing up the topic over and over, it’s learning from it, learning to move on — like grief. accept it, and understand you may not have everything exactly correct.

that’s all i have to say :/

seriously, guys, we need to stop letting timothy bring this up to get her fame.

Wow thank you so much for sharing this Buni 🥺

I completely agree with you and support you all the way 🤍

[frozenjokes]

i continued being unable to sleep so i continued shoving as much of your writing into my brain as possible, by which i mean i just read alllll of the mumbomaid au pretty much at once and am being Normal about it

i love them all, i love all of them so much, i'm very invested in their shenanigans, i love how almost nobody understands gender and they all misunderstand it differently

i am ALSO aro in the "no i don't have feelings for anybody, yes i would date basically any of my friends" way and everything surrounding scar's aromanticism is so well done, i kept being soo exasperated with grian and the like. the incredibly allo misunderstanding of aromanticism, and not listening when scar and cleo try to tell him he doesn't get it, i have friends i've had almost those exact conversations with (but slightly less messy because of varyious factors including but not limited to Not Being Desert Duo, Thank Fuck) just ajfhdjdhjshdjfsk

also also i love textbook monsterfucker scar and i'm convinced bdubs thinks etho grew up in a cult or some shit (i'm throwing words at this ask box like spaghetti)

anyway uh. i'm probably gonna keep wanting to say words about your fics as i keep reading them and the ao3 comment section scares me so. i will probably be back, feel free to tell me to buzz off if this is not a preferred communication method

-guy that said mapleshade=p!scar (maplescar? scarpleshade? there's gotta be something here, did i mention the sleep deprivation sorry if this is all insane rambling lmao)

maplescar is a really cool tortie kitty name I like that a lot. maplescar would go crazy. ALSO PLEASE KEEP SAYING WORDS!!!!! say words FORWVER!!!! spam my ao3 comments and I will respond to them 9/10 ten times!!!!!!! I love talking I love when people talk to me THANK YOU!!!!!! you could send me an ask every single time you finish a chapter and I would kiss you on the lips each time but my followers might be killing you with hammers so. Pick your poison.

yeah my favorite part of mumbomaid is that no one knows what a gender is and they misunderstand in all different ways you put it 100% perfectly. I also find Grian to be frustrating but he’s also a vessel to explore More Feelings and in his defense a little outside of complicated aro/allo interactions scar is a bit of an asshole. They are both assholes. Two guys they Will have their cake and they Will eat it too and they are exploding because of it. I too thank god every day I am not desert duo I! hate them. Generally though I do not feel bitter about allo misunderstandings of aromanticism because I spent 21 years of my life also not understanding. Which. Is the fault of a normative society. However. It is deeply difficult to understand the internal experience of someone who functions differently than you on a chemical level. This is a bit of a tangent but my mom and I’s ability to communicate has been drastically improved by the acceptance that I am autistic. She sees me and we reflect on my life together and it makes Sense that the way I experience the world is Different so whenever we talk about something my mom doesn’t understand in relation to me her mind is so open because she knows my perception of the world is not the same as hers. neurodivergence isn’t entirely related to queerness but it has genuinely opened up so many doors for our communication. she goes aromantic? oh yeah that makes sense. I think she catalogs it with the autism which is correct because to me autism and Every Other Way I Experience The World is related. This is say I have a very amusing experience with one of my trans friends where he was like: …so you’ve never questioned your gender,,, like…. Ever..? and I said nope. and he like couldn’t believe me. He did obviously but it’s the idea that our experiences are so integral to the people we are that it’s extremely difficult to imagine it any other way. can you tell I’m a psych major yet. what was I talking about.

I haven’t thought of exactly what bdubs thinks about etho’s past but it’s probably something like that. Deep down, it doesn’t really matter. Bdubs just wants to protect him. He’s so worried, but he just wants etho to feel safe.

lightly suggestive under the cut bc I talk about the monster fucking a little bit and I don’t know your age/if my elaboration is unwarranted I’m just talking. I’m here for a silly time not a sexy one.

monsterfucker scar is dear to me. extremely important. Grian will never be able to do to him the, frankly, deranged things he fantasizes about. they can try but the mood is going to be ruined when scar is like :( your tentacle dick isn’t real. and Grian is going to sigh with his dumbfuck strap and the blue curtains and lights they hung up to make it look like they were underwater. Their entire experience in the bedroom is going to be a series of extremely comedic extremely unfortunate events to make up for the fact that scar is never getting any fish pussy 😔 scar will be put off the mood because Grian just isn’t Convicning enough like COME ON if I don’t believe I’m going to die THEN what’s THE POINT??????? their home life is just increasingly deranged. grian has accepted that he will never be able to compete with the horrors of the ocean and you may think that’s a ‘but he’s still a little jealous though..’ but he’s not. He’s accepted it. Full acceptance. The kind of worn down you get from fishing for a mending book for weeks on end but without the agony and more just. Amused. goodtimeswithscar is going to die young and by drowning but you’d better believe he’ll do it in ecstasy.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 4.2 - Dating for Weirdos

ALICE

They end up at Annie Joe’s as a result of Alice’s “Develop a Plan in Realtime” tap dance. It’s a leftover habit from her time with Jeffery. He would never say exactly what he wanted, leaving her to deploy a bunch of coy observations, questions that weren’t really questions, and leaps of faith to figure it out.

“Are you planning to go inside, or do you have some kind of telepathy that allows you to place orders from the sidewalk?” Vlad’s delivery is so deadpan Alice has no idea if he’s teasing her. Plus, he won’t even look at her. 

She bites back the urge to explain that no matter how happy her ex was to meet his friends here, he got so pissed when Alice took him that he shook her until her teeth rattled.

Why did she let him do that? Why did she accept it? Even now, when she knows she was being gaslit, her muscle memory keeps her feet stuck to the pavement.

“I’m afraid this place will poison me,” she lies because it's better than admitting her fear.

“The campus cafeteria will poison you,” Vlad admonishes, but he’s smiling. “This place will change your life. The food is delicious. You made an excellent choice.”

Alice looks down at her feet because she knows if he reaches for her hand she’s going to throw up.

Please don’t do it. Please don’t. 

It takes a few seconds to pull herself together, but when she looks up, Vlad is just holding the door open. Relieved, she follows him into the diner. 

They get stuck behind a woman yelling at a server about her bill. A server who clearly doesn’t give a shit, which—

Good for her. That’s who Alice used to be.

When they get their seats and scan the menu, Alice’s stomach is so twisted in knots from mourning her former self that she only orders coffee. Vlad, meanwhile, raises a brow, doubles the coffee, and then proceeds to order enough food to feed an army. 

The coffee arrives. 

The silence stretches. 

Alice has exactly two thoughts in her head:

Why is talking so hard?

And why is she so broken that she can’t even make conversation? 

She doesn’t realize she’s actually voiced those thoughts until Vlad answers.

“Talking is hard because everyone wastes time saying the opposite of what they mean, and thus, every conversation is deciphering whether you should respond to the thing someone has said or the thing they mean and depending on the time of day and the height of the sun in the fucking sky it could be either.” He sips his coffee, “The problem is not you. The problem is that there are no rules, and hell is other sims.”

Alice doesn’t know whether to wince or laugh. She didn’t used to have such dark thoughts. Being around tons of sims made her happy. She loved parties. Now, large groups make her sweat, and she can’t get through a party unless she has access to alcohol.

Lots and lots of alcohol. 

Hell is other sims.

Vlad takes in her expression and sighs. “I’m sorry. That was…” He breaks off. “I’m probably not going to get through this date without saying something off-putting. I can be unsettling despite my best efforts. Or, well, not really my best effort,” he says almost to himself, “More like no effort if I'm being honest.”

Alice’s mouth falls open. It's a stunning thing to admit on a first date. Sure, she has some obvious flaws, but still, she was worth a little bit of work. “D-did I hear you right?” she demands, “You’re not even trying?”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 2 of 4)

Honestly, shout out to @coolpuppy12, who built this amazing lot! I love it so much 😭😭😭

Also, just gonna say some stuff about Alice here:

When I was young (Alice's age), I was in an abusive relationship, and getting out of it was a REAL MINDFUCK. It took time to get back to my old self (or, I guess, learn that you can't really go back, but you can become something new and better). And when I started working on this story, I was debating on how much of this to actually put in.

Ultimately, I decided to just go for it, which has been pretty cathartic to write.

Anyway, I just wanted to flag this because Alice will probably come off as a bunch of contradictions for a while (She's confident! She's not confident! She's horny! Wait, don't touch her!), and that's just coming out of writing my own experience. She's finding her footing and mourning her old self while trying to trust again.

But rest assured, this is a HEA (Happily Ever After), and baby is gonna figure herself out!

I guess it just felt important to me to write someone in the messy middle bc I needed that when I was in the messy middle. And seeing someone make it to the other side? Fucking chef's kiss.

Okay, enough of me oversharing emotional trauma on the internet! In about five minutes (aka the next part), Vlad is going to say something completely outrageous, and this date is gonna get weird and funny, I promise lol.

[endless-summer-soldier]

ice ice baby - chapter four

pairing: CollegeHockeyPlayer!Bucky x CollegeFigureSkater!Reader

summary: Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

warnings: enemies to lovers trope, some alcohol use

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @sebsgirl71479

series playlist

series masterlist

The next day, Y/N fell back into her routine. After catching up on schoolwork, she found herself back at the rink, focusing on the next competition. She was interested to see how James would progress. She didn’t feel like she needed to be tough on him anymore, but she still wanted to push him to be better. Her skates were tied up and she checked the time before starting her warm up laps. He was late.

He walked into the rink a few minutes past their starting time.

“You’re laaaaate,” she called in a sing-song voice, feigning annoyance. He walked right up to the glass where she was skating. His hair was down. That was the first thing she noticed about him. He usually pulled it back. And he was wearing a sweater instead of his normal T-shirt. She realized then something was off.

“Where are your skates?” She tried to keep her demeanor calm, but inside she was panicking that he was going to give up on figure skating.

“We’re not skating tonight.”

“Oh we’re not?” He shook his head in response. “I would argue that I am skating tonight,” she said, drawing attention to her current position on the ice.

“You’re not though,” he replied. She squinted at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Off the ice,” he directed, motioning for her to walk off.

“No,” she responded.

“Come on, don’t make me come out there and get you.” She turned away from him and skated away. He sighed and made his way through the opening to the ice.

“When Coach gives me shit for being on the ice in street shoes, I’m blaming you.” She came around her next turn and he intercepted her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her in towards him. They had grown very comfortable around one another after skating together the past couple weeks. But that didn’t stop Y/N from letting out a small squeal. She tried to ignore the butterflies going wild in the pit of her stomach.

“Come on now,” he said, pulling her off the rink.

“James, seriously. What are you doing?”

“I think you mean what are we doing.”

“Okay, what are we doing then?”

“We are going to the bar to celebrate our victory.” He stepped off the ice and held his hand out to help her.

She sighed and stood firm, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I have to practice.”

“You can practice tomorrow. Tonight, you are going to celebrate.”

“James…”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t take one night off,” he demanded, face turning serious.

She buckled under his gaze, mind going completely blank. A moment ago she could’ve given him twenty reasons why taking a night off wasn’t a good idea. But the minute his ocean blue eyes locked onto hers, she was lost.

A small smile spread across his face, “Not a single reason, huh? Sounds like you are coming with me.”

She regained her composure and rolled her eyes, “Fiiiiine. Just one drink.”

“Famous last words,” Bucky chuckled to himself. 

As it turned out, Bucky was right in that one drink is never just one drink. Once he finally pulled Y/N off the rink, he let her change and then they walked to one of the local bars. Bucky ushered her into the bar as he greeted all the bartenders. Y/N found a seat at the bar and Bucky joined her, ordering a pair of beers in the process.

“Do you know everyone here?” she commented.

“Not everyone…I don’t know that guy,” he said, pointing to a patron at the other end of the bar. She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of beer. “When was the last time you had a beer?” he asked.

She let out a sigh, "Probably at the last frat party I went to. Which was about two and a half years ago.”

“Not a big drinker?”

“My schedule doesn’t exactly permit it. I mean I’ll have a glass of wine every now and then but that’s about it.”

He eyed her as he took a long sip from his beer. He studied her and then said, “You need to have more fun.”

“Winning is fun,” she suggested.

“It’s more fun when you actually celebrate,” he countered. 

“Touche,” she said, clinking her beer bottle to his. She took a long sip from the bottle and felt the alcohol immediately start to loosen her up.

“So, how did you get into hockey?” she asked.

“Wow, are you asking me a personal question? Are you actually interested in getting to know me?”

“Maybe. I am stuck with you for a few more weeks.”

“Ah so I’ve proven myself to be worthy.”

“Just answer the damn question.”

He took a deep breath, “I didn’t have a great childhood. My dad wasn’t around and my mom was always working double shifts to provide for us. I ended up running with a little bit of a rough crowd when I was younger. We would beat up kids younger than us just to prove we were tough. And then one of my middle school teachers saw something in me and held me after class one day. He knew that I was always getting into fights and he said they needed a few more players on his son’s ice hockey team. At first I wasn’t really interested, but he persisted. He paid for all my equipment, drove me to and from practice, and he helped teach me to skate. I spent more and more time with the hockey team and my teacher’s son quickly became my best friend.”

“Do you guys still keep in touch?”

He nodded, “He’s the reason I’m here. He helped me apply to colleges and everything and I couldn’t imagine doing this without him. So of course I followed him here and we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“That’s really sweet,” she smiled. “He must be a saint to put up with you for all these years.”

“Ha, he really is. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“He’s a great guy. You’ll love him.”

“Please don’t tell me this is a set up.”

Bucky shrugged, “It’s only a set up if you want it to be.”

“I need another drink,” she murmured, as she finished her beer. Bucky flagged over the bartender and she ordered a vodka soda.

“So how did you get into skating?” he countered.

“I was raised in a skating family. My mom was a champion figure skater and all her brothers played hockey. So the minute I could stand they strapped on some skates and took me out onto the ice. And the rest is history.”

“Do you love it?”

She took in a deep breath, “I didn’t at first. Skating was my life and I missed out on a lot of those standard childhood experiences. I despised my parents for it. But they just wanted me to be the best. And then my mom died and skating was the one thing that made me feel closer to her.”

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he expressed with genuine empathy.

“Her dream was to be on the Olympic team, and she was this close,” she held up her fingers about an inch apart from each other, “and then she got pregnant with me. So she gave up skating and married my dad.”

He was quiet as he looked at her. It all made sense, why she trained so hard and why she was tough on him. It was more than just her competitive spirit, it was all for her mom.

“So that’s my story,” she added, trying to diffuse the silent tension. She took a long sip from her drink, realizing she over shared. 

“Well I can promise you I will do everything I can to help you make the Olympic team.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him and saw a look of determination in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. They locked eyes for a moment, unsure of what to say next when they were interrupted.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t our favorite ice princess,” someone said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes and turned around, “You’re just jealous that I can land an axel.”

He greeted the two new faces before introducing Y/N to a few of his hockey buddies, Steve and Sam. She had to admit, they were both lookers. But she couldn’t be distracted with boys when nationals were right around the corner. Bucky ordered them all another round and the two joined them at the bar. Steve sat next to her and was extremely polite, asking about her skating and the competitions and the like. In another life, she’d be interested in him, but she couldn’t get someone else off her mind. 

As the night progressed, Y/N continued drinking, alternating with the occasional water at Bucky’s insistence. At some point in the night Natasha, one of Y/N’s figure skating friends appeared and was pleasantly surprised to see her out. She leaned into Bucky and said, “How did you get her here? She never comes out.” He shrugged and said, “She just needed a little persuading.” Nat smiled and stuck around, chatting up Sam and Steve.

“So Y/N,” Bucky said, leaning close to her at the bar, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel good,” she replied.

“Are you having fun?” he asked. She nodded, as she took another sip of her vodka soda.

“Well I am going to say something, at the risk of ruining your fun, because I’m a little tipsy and I can’t help myself.”

“Okay…” 

“I think we should change the routine for the next competition.”

She was taken aback and immediately became defensive, “What’s wrong with the routine?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just…it’s a little cookie cutter.”

She tilted her head. “And what would you know about skating routines?” she challenged.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the routine. It’s the song choice.”

“You don’t like Harry Styles?” 

“Harry Styles is fine. But every song in that competition was so poppy. I mean how many Britney Spears songs did we hear?”

“Britney Spears is an icon.”

“Absolutely she is. But what if we did something with a little edge. Something different, that helps you stand out.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like Metallica or something like that.”

She paused for a moment and stirred her drink. “It’s an interesting idea.”

“Just think about it.”

“Are you sure you’re not a spy of Sharon’s trying to ambush me?” 

He let out a big laugh, “Is that what you really think?”

“Well no, but I had to check,” she smiled.

Bucky looked around the crowded bar and noticed their growing group all seemed distracted. Which gave Bucky an idea.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her.

She held his eye and responded, “Yes.”

He took her hand and said, “Come with me.” He guided her out of the crowded bar, without anyone noticing.

“Wait, Bucky! We need to pay.”

“I’ll settle up-” he stopped mid-sentence and turned to face her. “Did you just call me Bucky?” 

She looked guilty and a smile crept up her face, “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Oh I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He continued walking with her down the street.

“I refuse to acknowledge this.”

“I think that means we are officially friends now.”

“We’re not friends,” she denied.

“Oh I think we are.”

“Of course you do,” she replied.

“You know, I think you enjoy disagreeing with me.”

“That is not-” she shut her mouth, realizing the successful trap he had just set for her. He looked at her with a knowing grin.

“You’re cute when you get all worked up.” She didn’t have a retort for that and she knew her cheeks were turning the faintest shade of pink. “Come on,” he said, pulling her into the ice rink.

“Oh so now you wanna practice?” she said.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what are we doing here…”

“I just figured that I’ve seen your world, but you haven’t seen mine,” he smiled.

“This seems like a terrible idea,” she commented with a smile.

“Only one way to find out!” He instructed her to grab her skates and she did, without a protest. He went back into the locker room and collected the goals, a few hockey sticks and a puck. He sat next to her to lace up his own skates and led her onto the ice once they were finished. 

“Here, go set this up down that end,” he directed, giving her one of the nets. She followed his instruction and he skated toward the opposite end to place the net. He skated back toward center ice and Y/N stood in the net at the other end.

“Come here,” he called. She skated smoothly toward the center and came to a sharp stop, sending ice flakes flying towards Bucky. She gave him a snarky smile and he couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s how you hockey players skate, right?” she added.

“Oh this is going to be fun,” he replied. He handed her a hockey stick and dropped the puck, “I’ll let you start with the puck.”

“Are there any other rules I need to know?” she asked.

“Always one for the rules. We’ll keep it simple for you. First to three-” He was mid-sentence when Y/N deftly scooped the puck and darted past Bucky, heading straight for the goal. His response was delayed due to pure shock. And once he recovered and skated after her, it was too late. She easily slipped the puck into the open goal and cheered. She turned to him with a smile and said, “This hockey thing doesn’t seem so hard.”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for a cheap shot,” he teased

She shrugged, “I saw my opportunity and I took it.”

“And here I was going to take it easy on you.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Oh I know you can’t handle it.”

“Bring it, Barnes,” she challenged. She collected the puck and brought it back to the center of the rink. She skated backwards toward the net, prepared to play defense. Bucky took the puck and started with a few slow strides toward her. She mirrored his movements, anticipating his next move when he faked to the left and spun on one skate to the right, easily scoring a goal.

“Did you just twizzle me?” she asked, referring to the figure skating move she had taught him that he just used against her.

“I’m full of surprises,” he grinned at her. 

“I should be mad, but your technique is actually getting pretty good.”

“I learned from the best,” he winked at her. He slid the puck out of the goal and skated back to the middle as she followed him.  

He held her eye as he dropped the puck, almost as if it was a real face off. She maintained eye contact for a moment but the minute he looked away, she was off. She skated toward the right, her dominant side, and Bucky picked up on the movement immediately. She squealed as she felt him gaining on her and he eventually dropped his stick and focused on his speed. He grabbed her hips and started pushing her toward the edge of the rink. Y/N dropped her stick along the way and Bucky tried to slow down as much as he could to avoid slamming her into glass. Right before they were about to hit, Bucky spun them around so that he was poised to take the collision He was used to it, so he didn’t flinch when his back hit the wall. Y/N was unprepared. She tried to soften the hit and braced herself, resting her hands on Bucky’s chest. She closed her eyes upon impact, but he proved to be the perfect cushion.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bucky said in her ear. She opened her eyes and couldn’t look away from his stunning blues. Her breath caught in her throat and she became suddenly aware of the firm hold his hands had on her hips. She was sure he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. 

They stood there in silence, each mesmerized by the other. Bucky leaned in ever so slightly, seeking her approval. She wanted to give into him, and she almost did, before her conscience kicked in. 

“Thanks,” she said, removing her hands from his chest. “It’s getting late, I should probably get home.”

“Let me walk you home?” he offered. She nodded, as she skated off the ice. She unlaced her skates and caught her breath as Bucky cleaned up the rink. She wasn’t sure what her move was now. She wanted to kiss him badly, but she couldn’t jeopardize their skating relationship. So she pushed down her emotions and tried not to think about the butterflies swirling around her stomach.

“You ready to go?” he asked her, offering a hand to pull her up from the bench. She nodded and took his hand. She expected him to let go once she was standing, but he didn’t. He kept a firm, yet gentle, grip on her hand. She was quiet, unsure of what to say, and Bucky took notice. 

“You okay?” he asked, peering down at her.

She nodded and gave him a small smile, “Just tired is all.”

“So I guess I can’t tempt you with some late night pizza?” he grinned at her.

She should go home, she knew that. But she also wasn’t ready for this night to end. And his smile was impossible to resist.

“Maybe just a slice,” she replied.

[stellagibs0ns]

please let us see ur morally questionable bedannibal stuff pleaseeeeeeeeee let them come to light

this is simply my most recent word vomit

TW: extremely dubious consent, somno & implied drugging!

if it’s not your cup of tea do continue scrolling. but some of us like a bit of questionable content

Bedelia feels his hands on her waist before she registers exactly who it is. In her Ambien-hazy state, she makes no attempts to fight back or turn him down. She wonders, briefly, which of the two it would be. Is she steady enough to turn him down? Or would she have to fight?

Would she want to fight?

Bedelia makes a quiet sound. In return, she’s lulled by a quiet whisper beside her ear.

“Go back to sleep, Bedelia.”

It’s tempting. But the best she can do now is remain dazed and not entirely conscious.

His fingers reach down between her thighs, caressing her cunt. She isn’t wet — she has no reason to be. That does not sway him. He strokes over her folds with practiced fingers. She doesn’t stir. She simply slips back into her medicated daze, despite a quiet whine escaping her.

Her body, traitorous and twisted, gives him what he wants. The familiar warmth of wetness seeping out between her thighs. Still, no real reaction. A blurry outline of her predicament with no concrete plan to get out of it.

His fingers probe at her, before he slips two into her tight heat. Bedelia makes a muffled sound, her cheek pressed against the pillow as she tries to sharpen the world around her. Everything is vague and fuzzy, her limbs heavy with sleep.

She feels his cock through what she assumes is his pyjama pants, grinding against her hip as he works his fingers into her. She attempts to slur her protests, to no avail. Protests? Perhaps inquiries. She’s in no state to discern between the two.

She’s beginning to think that the pill she took was not Ambien at all, but rather something to keep her docile and pliant. His fingers are quick, and she’s grown careless after nights of sleeplessness.

She’s acutely aware of the heaviness of his breath in her ear and the sound of his fingers pumping into her slickness. Her hips subconsciously grind down against his fingers, seeking friction on her aching clit. If she were more aware of her surroundings, she would hate herself for this. Would she?

Bedelia makes another sound akin to a protest when he curls two fingers and leads her body to the edge of orgasm.

“Mmh—“

“Shhh,” she hears, but the voice sounds distant and disconnected. “Rest.”

She feels shuffling behind her, and her thigh is lifted by a strong hand. He wastes no time in pushing his cock into her, hissing at the way her body tightens subconsciously around him. The best she can do now is make quiet little whimpers, vague murmurings.

His fingers brush the blonde hair at the back of her neck aside, and he kisses her skin, greedy and slow. Her head lolls against the pillow each time she attempts to lift.

She feels his cock thrust into her, stretching her out with each movement. She rarely even masturbates anymore. She’s tight, probably painfully so. For who, she doesn’t know.

He thrusts into her relentlessly as she lies there placid and limp. His hand snakes around to settle over her lower stomach, almost threatening. His palm rests over her womb.

“I’m sorry to do it this way,” he murmurs against her ear. “But you cannot be trusted. Perhaps a baby will change your mind about trying to run.”

Somewhere inside, she’s shocked with fear, but it’s too deep and too far away to respond to in her state. Another whine of protest.

“Shhh,” he coos between thrusts. “You’ll make a beautiful mother.”

After another minute or so, she feels his body tighten, and he spills himself deep inside of her. Sleep threatens to pull her back under. Distantly, she feels him pull himself from her and tuck himself back into his pyjamas. His seed spills out of her and onto the bedsheets. Two fingers push it back in, almost clinically, before he kisses her hairline gently.

“Sleep,” he instructs quietly, almost lovingly. “I need your body in the best condition possible.”

She makes another incoherent moan, but soon succumbs to sleep.

“Goodnight, Bedelia.”

She doubts this will be the last time.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Ganyu sending an anonymous ask about romace to her crush's radio channel

characters: Ganyu x gn!reader

AU: Radio Host AU

warnings: none

a/n: This is one part of a request from @bluesandpiper and a bit longer than usual, since I really found myself enjoying writing this. Title do be kinda stinky, but I literally cannot think of anything else.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ganyu

If there was one thing that helped Ganyu through her days of work more than anything, it was listening to the radio while writing her paperwork. It drowned out the silence perfectly while not being anywhere near as distracting as letting the TV play and hearing the same Host speak and joke around made her feel like she got to know them as if they were her roommate, something made even more likely considering they were.

The truth was that there was a much simpler reason why Ganyu enjoyed listening to the same channel each time: you. While it took the secretary quite a while to get comfortable with the thought that she *might* have fallen for her roommate, she would have to perform some great mental gymnastics to continue lying to herself about it. And while trying to keep composure around you could be difficult at times, listening to your voice gave her both the feeling of not being too far away from you while also sparing her of any potential embarrassment.

All of which was to say that Ganyu wasn’t exactly the best at expressing her feelings to you. It wasn’t like she didn’t try or want to, but most of the time her efforts were drastically platonized, as anxiety always found a way to make her chicken out. Or so it was, until Ganyu found just the opportunity to at least get it off her chest.

Your channel always let people send in anonymous mail asking for advice, and while it wasn’t used that frequently, the secretary managed to scrape together just enough resolve to send one in, asking for a piece of advice. Something quickly turning out to be for absolutely nothing, as Ganyu couldn’t bring herself to tune in to the channel afterwards.

As the door to your apartment creaked open that evening, Ganyu found herself immediately looking at you, watching you slide out of your shoes and jacket before making your way over to her, a slight skip in your step accompanied with a bright smile.

“Guess what?”, you began, leaving Ganyu no time to respond before continuing, “someone sent in an anonymous message asking for advice today! But you probably already know that, of course”, by the time you finished, you had already struck a proud pose, obviously happy that the thing you fought for this much was used once again.

“That’s great to hear. Sadly I didn’t find the time to listen in today”, she tried her best to sound as happy to you as possible without giving away her little secret, only to panic somewhat when she saw you smirking at her.

“That’s a shame, but I guess there’s nothing you could do, since work probably demanded most of your attention”, you responded in a compassionate tone, all the while the same smirk still found itself on your face, “say, would you mind if I took a look at your papers? I’m just kind of interested in seeing what kind of work you’re doing this time, it’s also completely fine for you to say ‘no’ of course, no pressure”, you added after looking over at the pile of paperwork, a curious look settling in on your face.

It took Ganyu a few seconds to make a decision, fearing that you were planning something, only to eventually acquiesce, not finding any real reason to say no.

“Would you mind if I were to ramble about work for a bit?”, she quickly gave you a nod, still too anxious to even open her mouth. “The letter I got today was cute, someone was asking me for ways to confess to their roommate who they have a crush on, my heart almost melted when I first looked at it, I’m sure you would feel the same way about it”, you told her, almost absent minded as you read through the boring paperwork, luckily not noticing the blush that had started to form on Ganyu’s cheeks, or at least willfully ignoring it.

“And what advice did you end up giving them?” she asked, nearly instantaneously feeling the urge to facepalm for showing her curiosity without even attempting to mask it.

“Great question, something you would have found out if you listened to the channel today”, you gave her a smirk, only for it to quickly shift into a genuine smile as you opened your mouth once again, “I’m feeling nice today, so I’ll tell you, but first it’s your turn: what would you recommend?”

While Ganyu had managed to magically keep at least some of her composure until now, it all came tumbling down as her face turned as red as a tomato, her fingers suddenly starting to fidget with one another as she carefully thought of an answer, feeling like responding the wrong thing would cause the end of the world.

“I- Maybe… they should just confe- I… don’t know”, Ganyu averted her eyes as she admitted defeat, only to look up once she heard an approving sound from you.

“Mhm, you’re absolutely right. Speaking of confessing:”, you quickly changed tone as you forced eye contact with her, “I love you Ganyu.”

For a few moments Ganyu was convinced that she started hearing things or had fallen asleep while finishing her paperwork, only to throw that thought away once she saw you stare at her with an expectant look.

“That way you who sent in the letter… right?”, you asked, even though your voice made it clear that you already knew the answer.

“H-How did you know?”, she managed to string together enough words to respond only for you to once again flash her a smile.

“Ganyu. We live together, I know your handwriting about as well the back of my hand, considering how many papers full of it are in this apartment”, you stated, trying your best to hold back a chuckle.

“Was that why you wanted to take a look at my paperwork?”, she asked, things finally starting to add up in her head, only for you to let out a short giggle.

“No, I knew it was yours the moment I opened it, it took me a lot to not scream out of excitement”, you half joked before continuing, “I really was just curious, that’s all.”

What followed was a period of silence as Ganyu tried to process everything. A smile sneaking its way onto her face without her even noticing, only for you to drag her back into the real world as you cleared your throat.

“I still need an answer, little miss Ganyu.”