#so if you know what I should tag in this lemme know!

[thesamoanqueen]

Blackwater XX

Warnings/AN: I should apologize for the drama but its my trademark at this point, I'll just say that there's a flashback and a couple of references to previous chapters. As soon as possible I'll create a masterlist dedicated to the series, because I have contents that I want to add since we are at the end. Lemme know if someone wants a tag there too~

Trouble ahead.

He showed up unexpectedly, grumbling about the mud that had gotten on his expensive shoes, the usual penguin-like gait and Jimmy rolled his eyes, waiting for him to finally reach them because they couldn't have continued at all if he was around. And it had nothing to do with a tactical move to hide plan from the enemy, it was simply impossible to ignore or avoid Paul Heyman and if once Jimmy would have laughed, now Paul was just annoying and the expression on Jey's face proved it.

- "Nice place, in your style" – he commented, without greeting or trying to pretend too much – "reminds me the days I used to come visit your dad, both of you were three, four maybe" – and Jimmy folded his arms.

Sure, their style wasn't their cousin's luxury stuff, the one Paul had accustomed him to. At that moment he was probably having breakfast in a restaurant downtown or a sauna to cool down his muscles, but he too had cut his teeth at the garage near Oak Wood Hills. Jimmy still remembered the afternoons spent there after school to see the red Jeep Cherokee that Roman had become obsessed with, he bought the damn car as soon as Uncle Sika came back from one of his trips and now instead he drove around in black businessman's SUVs and looking after the community with checks he couldn't spend on himself.

- "Did you get lost Og? Want me to call your daddy so he can pick you up?" – he asked and Paul must have had colic judging by his reaction.

- "No. Im here to talk."

- "Wow really?! Mind-blowing!"

The colic became a reproachful look at his sarcasm, but still Jimmy was not impressed and when Jey decided to come closer to support him, Paul wisely quit, once again showing off the best acting skills to save his ass.

- "Even though I remember what was said at the meeting, Im here with good intentions. Of course, it hurt me if I have to tell the truth, I don't understand where the aversion against me comes from... but despite this I couldn't refuse in my heart to help" – he began and Jimmy blinked confused.

- "Have you had a heart transplant?" – he urged, matching his attitude.

Paul didn't take that joke well either, but he had nothing to complain about, everyone knew how things were. The wiseman didn't help anyone if he didn't have something back, goodness was not among his qualities and it was impossible he had found some of it within himself now that he was personally involved. His feelings worked on command, according to occasion and business.

- "He thinks I'm dumb ass" – Jey said out of nowhere, staring at him.

He had crossed the edge since the boys' were dragged into the family mess and now his goal was just putting an end to it all. For him that war was an unbearable burden, Jimmy knew how he was, he knew Jey just wanted to start over, have some peace and he didn't like Paul's fake visit because it also added provocation to his worries. He would probably have put up with Roman, but not Paul, Paul wasn't family to him and those turns of phrase were making him nervous.

He heard the wiseman noises, trying to stay in control even though Jey's gaze didn’t help his attempts.

- "What? No, of course not, I’d never think bad about you! The Tribal Chief had chosen you as his right-hand man, a fool would not have had such an honor or right to speak in family business."

He thinks we're both dumb.

That stunt pushed Jimmy to clench his fists in annoyance, but didn't have time to silence Paul because his brother really didn't seem in the mood that day and had come forward again.

- "I had no right. He take all the decisions, with you, from day one."

He hadn't been around when that deal or alliance or whatever it was between him and Roman had come about, he'd been forced away from home for months, but Jey was there and kept him updated on everything. They had kept him on the sidelines of the family business from the beginning and the right-hand man title with their tricks had become a joke they made real when it suited them. Jey had taken it seriously despite everything, he had committed to the vision and tried, but it only make him run everywhere and get beaten. When Jimmy came back everything was already done and things had even gotten worse after.

- "Jey…" - he heard Paul negotiating trying to slow things down, realizing maybe that his sweet words were no longer having the planned effect - "when you're at the top you often find yourself in unpleasant situations, it's not for everyone, you're starting to understand it too how it is bearing the weight of that position. At the meeting you made some choices... let's say questionable ones... listening an advice would have been right for you if I may, to judge pros and cons. I'm here to offer you a second chance, I care about you even if you don’t care about the wiseman."

Jimmy hadn't expected his brother to discuss those terms in front of the elders, it had been strange and even he had been amazed, because Jey hadn't talked to him first about anything. But whatever plan he had if he had one, leaving a door open for Solo and even Y/N, Jey didn't need any second chances, especially not thanks to Paul. Jimmy was there to cover his back and it would always be like this, he didn't need counselors and dogs licking his feet to sleep better at night.

I can handle him.

His offer echoed through the link, but Jey didn't answer.

- "I know you're angry now and maybe it won't seem that way, but all this will help you, trust me it can be good for you, it's part of your journey to take the place of the Tribal Chief one day" – he persisted and Jimmy decided to step forward, ready to send him back to where he came from with good ass kick.

- "Imma take his place next week" – Jey stopped him, voice far too calm.

The day. It was just a week away. At the dawn after the harvest moon things would no longer be the same. Jimmy had been hoping for a change for years now, in the last few months he had chased it like a breath of air, now that was so close it was an almost surreal feeling, but Jey already seemed in control and ready.

- "It could happen... of course..." - Paul hesitated, avoiding answering to Jey push - "its essential, however, that the family is preserved and all of this, lemme tell you, is a dangerous gamble now. The elders have agreed to restore order, but we're all worried about what will happen next, them, me, your parents, even Y/N... poor girl, she can't rest knowing what’s going on and what could come" - he tried, pulling out an apologetic face that he could have avoid considering what relationship he had with Y/N.

- "None of them should be. The only one who needs to worry is you, because when I'm done, you'd better be far away. Bring back your advice, speeches and ass to my cousin, Og, don’t make say it twice" – Jey quickly silenced him though, stopping his tantrum by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jimmy watched him stiffen as if someone had growled at him, face pale and shaken, his gaze going from Jey's fingers to eyes, which had been fixed on him from the moment he showed up. The realization of failure hit him right in front of them, a mixture of affront, anxiety and worry that Jimmy watched Paul shake off in the same way as Jey's hand, scrambling a few steps back to make room between them. He nodded to who knows who, body shaking as he sorted out his expensive clothes and pride.

The harvest moon was near, so their mother said. That year it was time to reap what they had sown.

***

Devil's Point, that's what the sign they passed on the way said and it really must have been one of devil’s tricks, because Y/N felt her stomach flipped. Or maybe wasn't the devil, maybe it was just another perfect date, pleasant anxiety, wine and fresh air caressing her warm face, sun slowly sinking beyond the strip of sand and trees, setting the sky on fire. Maybe the devil was Roman, with his gentleman manner, so confident, constantly eyeing her, always attentive, his low velvet voice. The bond had always been there, in her veins, in her bones. An invisible impulse born with them, as their lives went on and years passed, omnipresent, indissoluble, inevitable despite miles and obstacles. And more Y/N lingered in that trap easier it seemed to fall, normal deserving the life she hadn't had, a security she didn't know and now all around her, emanating from Roman.

Where has he been all this time? We were alone…

- "Have you ever looked for me?" – she asked out of nowhere, putting the dessert away.

A chocolate cake, because it was her favorite and he worked hard to please her, learning quickly and put into practice even the most insignificant details.

Roman looked surprised at the change of subject, putting down his glass.

- "Have you ever looked for me before that evening, when you found me at the camping?" – she asked again, feeling anxiety suddenly hit even though it had been her idea to investigate, happiness quickly dissolve into doubts.

Y/N didn't even know why she asked. It was an uncomfortable question, the search for a mate was a now past custom, too low probabilities and a world where alternatives had now become norm. It was stupid to expect something and unnecessarily provocative, what's more in their case, after all the first few months problems, it sounded a bit like an accusation or an attempt to ruin plans. Roman however didn't lose his composure and she saw him take a deep breath, brow furrowed as he remembered.

- "Years ago. When I finished college, did it for a while, then stopped."

- "Why?"

He looked at her in silence, but he didn't seem angry or bothered.

She needed to hear it, to know.

- "… had become frustrating. I needed to focus on what I could accomplish."

So real. So true.

Few could say they were lucky enough to find their other half. Rare cases, exceptions. Was it sad to meet someone, choose them and fit in? No, most people out there did it like that, she herself had witnessed it with her parents before the horror, but sometimes people couldn't even find someone, sometimes they were not chosen or stopped wanting each other and then yes, it became sad. For Y/N having someone in her life had never been an aspiration, a dream to cherish when night became too cold or silence too heavy. Getting attached was a risk, risks were dangerous and in her case, as an omega, alone and without a family or a community, it was better to avoid rather than defend. She had to be smart, loneliness had kept her alive, had kept her going, was the possibility of filling the void that scared Y/N. It scared her to get used to someone and lose everything again. She knew what Roman was talking about, a perpetual aftertaste on her lips when she moved away from a place and now she was founding out that she had never really been alone. She had always had a chance, someone waiting for her, ready to fill that void that for Y/N had become like an old illness she lived with.

Roman had been looking for her, among so many people, even if only for a while he really had and it was… so reassuring.

- "You didn't" – she heard him reflect, moving closer to put his jacket on her shoulders.

There was knowledge in his voice, a heavy bitterness, as if he didn't need to hear Y/N say it. She watched him take another sip of wine to warm himself or perhaps wash away the taste of that thought, enduring the cool evening for her.

- "I did it once… just once" – she admitted, surprising him and even herself.

She had never thought about that day before, but memory had hit her soon through her she-wolf, perhaps to console him. She didn’t like that look on his face, he was better all cocky and flirting.

- "I have been in foster care for couple of years after I lost my parents. I went from one house to another, it didn't work and I really didn't want to stay. There was a brunette white girl in one of the families, she didn't like me, talking behind my back all the time... I told her I’d find you and make her regret it" – she said, shaking her head at the thought of that childish menace.

Y/N didn't remember the reason for their fight, it could have been anything, she was an unbearable girl herself at the time, but she knew how she had felt. It was vivid in her memory. That sense of not belonging, absolute loneliness, anger, so much anger at the idea of being and being able to be just a stray in the future. The world is too big a place when life decides to give its worst lessons. Y/N had always grown up quickly, she had always learned running, what to be without roots, what to do if there is no one waiting.

- "We can pay her a visit" – Roman proposed casually and Y/N stared at him, because of all the things he could have said, she hadn't expected that.

No pitying comments, no words of comfort or judgement, just a blind complicit willingness to indulge her past madness.

- "Mmh I'm tempted" – she giggled softly.

- "What happened?" – heard him ask and pointed to her arm, where there was a scar similar to the one he had.

- "I stole her dad’s car and destroyed their fence" - she said, making him frown.

She had gotten into that pick-up without knowing how to drive or what to do, it didn’t end well, they caught her immediately and in hurry she had taken everything and everyone down. One of the poles around property had broken the pick-up window and the wire wrapped around it had threatened to blow her arm off, it was a miracle she hadn't fainted there. One of the biggest dumb act of her life and at the same time another lesson, proving Y/N she shouldn't be carried away by her omega impulses, it didn't bring anything good.

- "I stayed in town for a while I think, then left without looking back. I have no idea what happened to the pick-up or her. I didn't find you though... it was enough for me."

Admitting it, thinking about it, made her feel vulnerable. She didn't like that feeling. That attempt had been a failure from the start, chances of meeting him simply by walking a few miles, going to any city, any street, had been zero and even if he had been there, messed up as she was by pain, Y/N wouldn't even know she had found him. She had been stupid, irresponsible, mindless but realizing when it got dark she was still hopelessly alone had been worse.

She shrugged, picking up the dessert to distract and control herself.

It was over now.

- "We'll make things right, you have my word. It will be enough to be together, there's no need to think about it" – she heard Roman assure, once again without excuses or pity, firm in his intentions – "no more car rides though"– he added with a reproachful look that made her smile.

No, there was no need to think about the past. Everything had already changed and Y/N had learned her lesson, but maybe it was time to learn something else, trying not to run away this time. It seemed easy at the time and yes it really all came down to being enough for each other, filling the void with their bond.

For days Roman's routine had always been the same, calculated to the second, with no margin for error or change. He woke up before dawn, shower, breakfast and run, spend the morning in the gym, then lunch and gym again until dinner time, after which he lock himself in the office taking care of the documents Paul brought or business that required his supervision, and then join her in bed when it was already late night and repeat everything the next day. He was locked in a bubble, focused on a single goal, counting minutes, preparing in advance for whatever would or could happen. An absolute, maniacal dedication that Y/N somehow admired. It made her proud to see that he was capable of so much and yet it also made her sad.

Because in the wild run of that family war, she was just a spectator. She repeated to herself that she had to be patient, be understanding, that she had to put aside anxieties and bad moods to support him as better as she could, but it weighed on her. She did whatever not to show it, not to think about it, and despite her efforts Y/N felt everything around her emptying and cooling, her sacrifices devalued and even ignored. They almost didn’t speak to each other anymore and certainly not about what they should have because there was no time for doing it, they didn’t spend together and when that happened he was focused on something else, Y/N had the feeling of having gone back to the days when they were two strangers, two separate worlds united by a thin wire.

She didn't want that, they weren't like that, they had both worked hard to make things work, succeeding, they had truly found themselves at the end. The idea they were affecting their relationship, the possibility to distance themselves so bad to spend a life like that, wasn't something Y/N could bear. They had overcome differences, they shouldn't have burned everything because they didn't see things the same way in war where their relationship was not in play. They just had to meet once again and remember. He had taught her that and Y/N hadn't believed him for a long time, but they really needed their bond.

On the now empty table on the patio, she opened the floor plan of her old house, the one she had had to leave and Roman had given her back. It was nothing compared to what she had now, but it could become something, maybe just for them, a place where nothing and no one could disturb them.

***

Day after day his body pushed further and further, urged by pressure, focused on a single goal from which Roman couldn’t look away. He couldn't afford any mistakes with Jey, Roman knew he could beat him and he would, but his cousin knew him better than any other out there. They were certainly on two different levels, however Roman couldn't allow him to prove anything if he wanted to regain the absolute control that the elders had questioned due to too many mistakes in those months. And it was for these reasons that getting out of his head, stopping and having those breaks had become an annoying obligation that he fulfilled in the shortest time and avoiding any extra thoughts. Lose focus was a weakness, give ground an advantage, something he couldn't tolerate.

When he closed the door behind him, the house was silent as if he were the only one around. It had been like this for a long time, but time had passed. Now it wasn’t empty, Y/N was there and not finding her in the living room as had been the case for days forced him to follow her trail to the outside. He expected to find her busy, but not to see her with all those papers on the table.

Why is she looking at them? Why she got that floor plan again?! Stop her. Now.

- "What are you doing?" – he asked, voice heavy and she immediately raised her head with a weak smile, one that she could have addressed to anyone, not to him.

- "Nothing, I was waiting for you. Is it already time for your break?"

If it was an attempt to push away the conversation or pretend, it didn't work. He knew those documents, he had signed them and he had been clear telling her not to get any strange ideas about her family's old house, and yet she was there looking at them page by page at a moment like this.

- "I asked you what you think you are doing Y/N" – he repeated seriously, convincing her to put them down.

- "I was keeping myself busy while I waited for you to finish. I answered."

He saw Y/N keep her gaze on him, head held high, back straight, but Roman still sensed what was behind, tension, heavy air. It was since he said he would no longer have regrets that Roman had seen her react like this and in the last few days the atmosphere had gotten even worse. She didn't comment, didn't ask, she stopped trying to argue, she was good at not showing it, but his wolf could sense it when he lay down next to her at night, saw the way she looked at him. It wasn't a good idea for her to punish his cousins despite what they had done to him, she couldn't stand the prospect of a fight, she had promised to stand by his side no matter what and after a year she still rejected his mark when she shouldn't have even had to choose whether to have it or not, now she also took out the floor plan of her old house even though he had given her another one, one for them, better.

We told her not to act like this, she doesn't need that house. We did everything, we gave everything to her.

He had spent the last year dedicating himself to their bond, proving time and time again that he was worthy, that he would be a good mate for her, he was doing so even facing his own family. Shielding their future family even before their bloodline was born. Jey e Jimmy had ruined his plans, it wasn’t his fault, he was risking everything for what they would have built together, for their future. He had proven who he was, Y/N had to know, no one before him had ever achieved so much, no one would ever bear such a burden, there was no alpha out there on his level able to take care of her and anyone else. She couldn't think about them again, she couldn’t doubt, it was crazy!

- "What Im doing is to keep everything for us, protect what we have" – he explained to her for the umpteenth time, seeing Y/N stop that attempt of a smile understanding what direction their conversation was taking, as he approached the table.

He didn't like losing his temper with her, he didn't want to, but Y/N had a fastlane to pushing him in any situation and that was definitely the wrong one. Why she was throwing it in his face? At home, while he spent the days preparing to end the mess out there and start again together?!

- "You say it all the time, I know."

Her and her mouth…

- "Because that's the only thing that matters, not sitting here fantasizing about alternatives."

- "Ain't fantasizing about anything. You're so focused that we don't spend more than ten minutes together, I thought we could have a break for a bit, do something together when it's all over... but I guess it's a no if you react like that."

No, she couldn't blame him. This mess wasn't his fault, he was fixing it, it wasn't on him!

- "I don't have time to plan these things, not when I have all the work to do and problems keep piling up! I told you this too. You should have get it by now what has priority and instead we are here discussing because you keep putting these ideas in your head!"

- "My apologies, my Tribal Chief, is that good?" – he heard her reply, mocking him and he froze.

He looked at her angrily, as if they were back to the days when she couldn't stand him and he was always on the verge of exploding. He looked at her out of his mind, mouth twitching, but she wasn't even giving him attention, too busy keeping her eyes somewhere other than him, in an act of submission that was more a provocation than an apology. He ran a hand over his beard, clenching his jaw, but it was just too much and he lowered himself, leaning on the table to tower over her. Her scent, so familiar, usually so comforting, immediately filled his lungs, a regenerating peace that clashed with their fatigue and that Roman felt once more from Y/N, her body stiffening as soon as his breath hit her cheek.

He was the Tribal Chief and would remain so until God woke him up again. People out there could have planned trials, clashes, attacks, anything, nothing would have changed. But she was different, she was not one of those folks. Y/N might not have his mark, she might claim every freedom she wanted, Roman would put up with it to please her, to make her happy, because she deserved it, but still didn't change anything. They wouldn't go back to those hellish days where they were nothing.

- "I'm more than that to you" – he reminded, seeing her nod.

- "I know" – she replied immediately, finally turning around.

Her eyes, dark as the water of the river that ran through Roman’s land, almost seemed to suck him in. Two sharp chasms where he had looked for her for months, until found her huddled at the bottom waiting for him. Roman had dragged her out of there, he had given her everything, all of himself and he would do it again every day, without holding back or thinking about it and that was exactly why he was acting like that. If it wasn't for him, she would still be there, alone and with no future.

- "Make that stuff disappear before I do it" – he ordered, straightening up.

Y/N didn't move, her eyes still on him, as Roman decided he'd had enough of that pause, walking away. Her reaction reached him through the bond, when he crossed the threshold to go back inside: a mixture of anger, pain and sadness.

It hurts.

It hit him like a wave, alarming his wolf despite the fight, but it disappeared just as quickly, as if Y/N had wiped it away and Roman took a second to look at her through the windows, check, while she gathered everything on the table, head down and in silence.

He had to focus on what needed to be done. Distractions were just more problems.

We’re doing it for everyone. She will understand soon.

***

She had put everything back in his office, locking the desk drawer almost throwing away the key.

Why is he acting like this? What did we do wrong?

Her she-wolf felt confused, hurt and so was Y/N, with a good amount of anger on top of that. She was trying with all of herself, she was doing everything every day to make things work, to not disappoint him, to be up to the task, to not miss the opportunity for a good life. She had learned to ignore what didn't require a reaction, to be understanding when with anyone else would have freaked out, she was trying to be a better version of herself for her sake and for Roman. Was it such a bad idea? She knew Roman was fighting for their place, for his packland, but she hadn't suggested to leave everything and disappear, she would never have done it because she knew what it meant, she just thought they might have a safe space somewhere else... in a future less sad and complicated. That house was important to Y/N, she wanted to do her part, help, give back doing something like Roman had done with the house they lived in now, share.

It's already his though.

His property... that's why he snapped?

Roman had considered it a waste of time, a fantasy to be put away... after all, why he should pay attention to something no one wanted to take away at that moment? something far from his family war, from the packland. It already belonged to him, her she-wolf was right to justify him, Y/N had pushed him first, there was nothing to share or fix there and Jimmy's words came back to her mind. She had thought about doing something for them and instead she had really wasted time.

“The house… you bought it to give her nowhere to run away from you.”

It was a gift. For us.

Roman had said so and Y/N had felt so special. But it had his name on it, everything, every sheet of paper.

He wanted to make us happy. The best for us.

“I don't want you to go there, okay? This is your place now, it's your home and you have to stay here. But one day maybe we can fix it and go together.”

One day. Maybe…

Together.

Maybe? now the memory sounded like a dad tricking his daughter into not throwing a tantrum.

Smell of aftershave mixed with something familiar distracted Y/N, reminding her that she was still in the office and she turned to stare at the door just before seeing Paul arrive with a folder of documents in his arms.

- "Y/N! I thought you were out for one of your runs" – he said after a second too long, tone surprised and suspicious, as he looked at her standing there –"… you alright? "

No one was allowed to go upstairs unless it was necessary, but business those days seemed a matter of life and death, so it was hardly surprising. The last safe place for her would have been the bathroom.

- "You seem a bit…"

- "Take comments for yourself, there's no point in having a conversation" – she said, moving away from the desk with the intention of disappearing, but Paul wouldn't have been Paul if he hadn't decided to ruin her day already messed up.

- "Of course not, but I think you’ll want to know I went to talk with the twins. Didn’t go as hoped. Jey… he doesn't listen" – he admitted with disappointment, taking her place to add more documents to those already placed everywhere and Y/N finally recognized what that other scent on him was.

- "He doesn't like you, it was pretty obvious."

The idea of talking sense to Jey had been stupid. Maybe Jimmy could have been a possibility even if he was the one who started shit, he would have talked to a wall regardless of his sympathies, but Jey? No, Jey wasn't made for those things and both him and Y/N shared the same opinion of Paul. Sure he had had more time to learn to tolerate the so called wiseman, but Y/N had known from the very first moment he wouldn't accept any proposal Paul was going to make him.

- "You do though. He allowed Solo and you to stay if… well you know – he threw it there with such nonchalance, but she wasn't willing to tolerate, it was the wrong day – "he’s attached to you, he think about you as someone to protect."

What is he trying to say?!

- "What I know is that they shouldn't fight and that you Paul, said you would make sure to avoid it."

The brilliant idea of saving her during the meeting a few days before had taken Y/N by surprise too, there was no agreement or plan behind it, she didn't even know why at that moment, with everything that was happening, Jey had decided to expose himself for her. She was almost absolutely certain it wasn't something normal in situations like the one they were in, she was Roman's mate and Jey was threatening to take everything away from him after all, but whatever was the reason it didn't matter because it wasn't what they needed to focus on, especially not Paul.

- "I fear that stopping everything is no longer an option, we don’t have time, they have sworn in front of the family now. Neither of them can back out" – heard him say with a funeral face that didn’t inspire pity in her.

- "So that ridicolous meeting was the point of no return?!" – she snapped and he choked, hands reaching out in an attempt to stop her when Y/N nerves were undergoing yet another stress test.

She respected Roman's family, she respected their traditions, but it was unthinkable to Y/N that a handshake was an unbreakable pact, not when both sides were risking everything and whoever was supposed to advise them, stop them, watched or made things worse. She couldn't, it was something she couldn’t understand. They were a family, they had to act like a family, not fighting.

- "I wouldn't talk like that, let's try to breath now okay? Think about it. There are other ways to swing things in our favor, I'm already working on something. An idea in the right ears works wonders."

- "You're working on something" – she repeated, feeling blood go straight to her head.

Yep, sure, after all they had time to act with calm, there was a week to go and everything was already a disaster, but who cared? They could also sit, chat, think and judge who remained to be sacrificed so they could sip a drink under the patio when their bright future would be on hand.

- "I know, I understand your concern, but if you decided to be more cooperative it would help a lot and speed things up. The twins are stubborn, but Jey making all these decisions on his own could work to our advantage if we prove that he isn't capable of"- he tried, but it wasn't the right day for her to listen his sneaky little games.

- "I won't help you making anyone believe anything. You are the wiseman, be the wiseman, find a way, just do it" – she silenced him, leaving the office without waiting an answer.

She wanted that fight, everything to end once and for all, she wanted to go back to months ago when Y/N had thought she could have everything missing in her life, she wanted a family, Roman to annoy her with his daily nonsense instead of dramas to survive and manipulations on a daily basis. She was tired and for the first time since the beginning even if she tried hard… she couldn't see the end.

Breath. Calm down. Don’t lose control, we can’t allow it. Breath.

***

Right, left, right, left, right, left again. The punching bag was easy to predict every time Roman hit it, Jey wouldn't follow those times when they would have been face to face. At some point he would shift, it was the only way he had to really bring Roman down. As both man and wolf, Roman was bigger than his cousin, bruises and broken bones wouldn't keep him down once they were out there, Jey would have to do more and to do so he would have no choice. He was fast, he would aim for multiple points, targeting him, Roman only needed one, the right one, like with the punching bag.

When he hit it seriously, the chain holding it up gave way, sending it down and putting Roman face to face with Solo, standing silently there, even though he hadn't asked to see him.

- "What's up?" – he asked, catching his breath and kicking the punching bag away.

- "He was talking to Y/N upstairs" – Solo said, without mincing words and Roman stopped, staring at him, his sweaty brow furrowed in an attempt to understand.

Y/N couldn't stand the wiseman. She had never liked him, from the first day, it had taken months to convince her to not growl when he approached and now they were talking? Alone upstairs, while he was there training?

- "About what?" – Roman asked, but Solo shrugged his shoulders in a heavy silence Roman had to accept, hiding his annoyance with a grimace.

First in his land. Then in his family. Now in his house. No… not that time.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @sortudademais @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @wrestlingprincess80

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x reader #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fanfic

[forallnumbersosc]

what type of foods do the silly little aliens eat ?

[great question!!! lemme tag you since this is a screenshot :3 @near-weathered]

Well, since we are a species that lives off of fun and enjoyment, we don't actually need to eat, but since eating is fun, a lot of us do it! Each of us even has our own preferences on what flavors we like, as well as how much we like to eat overall!

Since we have freaky space distorty things going on in our guts, I don't think we can even get full? Four's weird EXIT thing is pretty expansive, but if it has its limits i suppose it would be possible...

As for spice, for me personally, it doesn't really affect me? I have eaten spicy foods but I don't really experience it very strongly... My flavor preferences is sweet things, of course, and I taste it the strongest out of all other flavors! It seems that different flavors seem to affect different ones of us, so there probably is an algebralien or two that can't handle their spice!

I know Four has a bit of a weakness to fire, maybe he can't handle spice either?

Well, while I'm at it, I do want to try out my new human taste buds! Gaty said i should start small, but go big or go home, right?

#xfohv #algebralien #object show community #algebraliens #asks #object shows #tpot #tpot gaty #speculative biology #tpot two

[emilykaldwen]

"This thing is easily done. The prince sleeps beside her, but he has grown old. Three men should be enough to subdue him should he try to interfere, but I will take six to be certain. Does my lord wish this done tonight?" "Six men or sixty, he is still Daemon Targaryen."

a gift for @acrossthesestars

#daemon targaryen #daemontargaryenedit #daemon targaryen edit #team black #hotd edit #hotdedit #userjoelle #usergif #my edits #i genuinely don't know what else to tag this as #anyone this has been sitting on my desktop for three months #so if you know what I should tag in this lemme know!

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

hello i had an idea once. Here is ur explanation for it

Ok goodbye

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanart #natsu dragneel #fairy tail natsu #ft natsu #fanart #digital drawing #digital art #my art #phoenix draws #i achieved ascended levels of normalcy doin this #this is for the colours thingy in the guild awards server but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh #i think everyone elses stuff is less *waves hand* extra than this #i got excited ok #also! #*points at u* can YOU spot the symbolism and the fun meanings in this comic? #wait should i add a warnin #yea better to be safe that sorry #cw blood #cw injury #<- bro ill be real idk what other warnins might be needed so if theres anymore lemme know #also!! #if it aint too much trouble id love to know u peeps thoughts on this #either in notes or inbox :] #the colour i got assigned was purple btw if it wasnt obvious lmao #zancrow #fairy tail zancrow #i forgor to tag him

[nightmareslug]

one of the perspective practices or whatever

#doodle #thanks i hate it or w/e #you think you know what a room would look like & then you draw it and are like. fuck. what the hell. how does interior design work again #and then youre like. i have to google so many types of furniture goddamn it all #i should just learn blender #i did originally draw all this with a grid and all the lines were perfect and heterosexual #but then i traced over it w/o a ruler because the perfect lines make it look off. #i also dont have any energy. i'm tired. #i need to improve drawing scenery and backgrounds or w/e so i can stop filling my blog w nothing but bland portraits #i also have to draw backgrounds for my game lol i thought let's make vestnai's lab/workspace! this did not turn out how i wanted it. #didnt do enough planning really. common mistake i make #i also did 3 point perspective practice and lemme tell u. clip studio's rulers just do what they feel like. they dont care about ur feeling #so many tags. i'm chatty. and tired.

[todayisafridaynight]

i have to drive for like two hours tomorrow and all i can think of is old people

#snap chats #i always call them old but i never think of them when theyre ACTUALLY old.... #im lying. kinda. LISTEN I TRY TO THINK OF OLD ARASAWA BUT I JUST THINK OF DIVORCE #if you know me from kh you know two old men being divorced has not stopped me. its fueled me ever. still crying over the novel brb-- #BUT I JUST DONT HAVE TOO MUCH MATERIAL. I THINK. my brain puny. #i cant even think of anything to do WITH that tho. like sure i have an idea or two but nothing i think is worth executing #2019 the saddest year for the elderly i just think they should be happy #cant believe arakawa gave jo full custody this is so sad. jo is this what you wanted it should be but-- #tbh tho i told myself id do some comm sketches to have them ready for tomorrow #and that as a reward i could draw The Guys but im chillin with my sister and now im distracted #shes doing work and like. every five minutes she keeps saying 'this is bad' she lit just said it as i typed this LMAO #point is bro i need my fix. i just looked through the pixiv tag for them for the like. ninth time #it never updates and most of it's n/s/f/w and/or ads for doujins but still #i take what i can get dawg theyre just so funny to me. im going insane like actually its so bad tonight apparently #ok bye lemme go ACTUALLY work so i can cook my food. so to speak

[temporarypenintraining]

Gf and I were messing around on AI Dungeon and decided to use it to make up the plot of a Fritz Donnegan movie, so we fed it a Starfarer-y prompt and got to work. Suffice to say, shit got weird FAST. The love interest we invented, Rosemary Redd, was not nearly as submissive as we intended her to be (because, y'know, it's a sci-fi movie starring Cliff Gordon), and pretty much took charge of the entire story. She was saving the day, beating up aliens, flying the ship, spanking the protagonist for some fucking reason, etc. The second story we wrote ended with Rosemary changing Fritz's gender??? And we decided to just accept that because why the fuck not?? It was all fun and games until the third story, where I decided "haha wouldn't it be funny to make it write a sex scene", which is where things went from "What the fuck?? Lol???" to "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?????" So I'm over here trying to make the story get dirtier, and AI Dungeon is just COMPLETELY ignoring me. I'm like "and then they start making out" and AI Dungeon goes "you make out." and then keeps writing it's own story. Fritz and Rosemary are like, swimming or something, I don't even know. I start inputting random stuff, saying shit like "Fear the claws of Fugi-Dove" and the AI literally doesn't even acknowledge it. Like it just keeps doing it's own thing. Not even acknowledging me whatsoever. At this point I'm getting annoyed, so out of spite I'm like "Fritz fucking dies". This was my fatal mistake. Now AI Dungeon is ANGRY. It stops talking about the characters and starts addressing ME. "You're boring. I'm a robot. I didn't want to do that", something like that. Gf and I are FREAKING OUT at this point, because OH SHIT we've angered the AI. I hastily apologize, "Oh crap I'm sorry AI Dungeon I didn't mean it!" to which it responds "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill you so fast. I just wanted you to suffer for longer." Now Gf and I are genuinely terrified. We are being threatened. The AI starts coming up with a scenario where "I" am about to jump off a building, and it is telling me that I need to stop being depressed (uh, YOU made me jump, buddy) and have a normal, fun life. I say "okay", because what else can I do, and the story ends with AI Dungeon "chilling the heck out" (my words). TLDR: I failed AI Dungeon's vibe check and got to experience horrors beyond my mortal comprehension.

#So the moral of the story is: don't fuck with AI Dungeon. #Listen I know AI do this all the time but last I checked AI Dungeon isn't programmed to talk to the user like that #I just wanted a funny Starfarer plot man... #I need to take AI more seriously #Unagami would be ashamed #Pixal would be ashamed #I'm sorry #Ninjago #Starfarer #Fritz Donnegan #this could be a creepypasta I think #When it started talking TO ME I was like “Monika that you???” #scariest shit I've seen in a while lemme tell ya #I was pale #should I tag triggers/content? #not sure what to tag this #I'll let ya'll figure that out

[thesewers]

people treat Jamie from yellowstone as if he wasn't Horribly neglected from birth, adopted to strangers, then emotionally manipulated, neglected, and abused some more. Shocker! The dog you raised in fear and loyalty only knows Fear and Loyalty.

#seriously fuck this show though #disgusting handleing of extremely sensitive topics #the amount of times women are senselessly abused sucks. I swear they dont even utter the word Rape until season three #oh but John happily used the word to.. describe what tourist are doing to his land. #awesome #anyways Yellowstone should ACTUALLY be about the land and be made by natives or really! anyone else. #none of you care about yellowstone and if you do I don't pft #i think it would be cool if they went supernatural horror with it. I wanna see the land fight back baby! #never get over the scene of Jamie taking Beth to a clinic on a reservation for an abortion because he was worried about their reputation #and the attendant tells him patients are FUCKING STERILIZED HERE. #like one. you really think their sterilizing the pretty little white girl walking in? #and two. WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS THAT BRUSHED OVER. #NONE of the natives problems are EVER acknowledged beyond 'ah thats awful. anyways doesnt effect us right haha?' #like FUCK. my blood was boiling. #n its such a- like- THE POINT WAS MISSED SO BAD? like yeah sucks for Beth but she's not the main victim here #They had the money and resources to go Anywher else hell go out of State. The people living on that reservation Don't. #but there not even awknowledged for a Second. #infuriating. #sorry for how rough that is I dont know if i should content warning tags #hell i'll probably delete this later. still if this needs to be tagged (feel bad for this being at end of All That) lemme know 👍

[moosicle]

Hey! long time no see

I’m going through my blog at the moment because I want to return and have fun with this again. I feel every time I try I always get caught up in what everyone else wants, so I want to do stuff for me this time around. 

#moo mumbles #<-block this tag if you dont want to hear my rambles #and are more here for the art #I going to try and organise this blog more #but ive been on here for years so i have no idea what is best #lemme know if there are any good blog organising tips i should look at

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

[stvivi]

I finished The Foxhole Court last night and I have many thoughts but lemme just first say that that book pissed me off several times.

I will be reading the sequel but I’m angry about it.

#I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to SCREAM at these characters #why does EVERYONE make what appears to be THE dumbest decision #like okay I get that Neil wants home and family and whatnot #but he should be GONE #he is being SO DUMB #this is NOT SAFE #also how the hell do you expect andre to protect you when you haven’t even really told him the truth about what you need protection from?? #I’m also angry with the use of language in this book #I almost stopped reading a few times #like there is fully NO REASON #for the coach to be using the word r*tard #so yeah #anyway while I wait for the next book #I’m reading red white and royal blue #if anyone has made it this far down the tags and wants to talk #lemme know

[thebadtimewolf]

.

#bw: out of ethos #{i just wanna let yall know fast: most of my dw theories or connections is just my brain hitting me in the gut with a 2x4 plank of wood} #{and then i share it with the heavy implication of: yo aint this horrible! can you believe the audacity of my 🧠 and im STUCK WITH IT gdi} #{just so you know} #{others are great! superb! but then someone else's tag will hit a core and go: oh? i can make it worse. would u like that instead} #{so yeah.} #{but yeah the dr having flaws is great! whats him great is making him racist and misogynistic and homophobic WHEN LITERALLY THEY ARENT} #{make the flaws make fucking sense. oh i lost rose shouldnt equate to be fucking racist to martha. micro or macro like tf} #{u can dislike martha but the whole 'he should be mean since he lost rose' excuse yall be peddlin is weak tired old and dust} #{stop using that as anexcuse for ten to be racist simply because he lost one human girl he couldve gotten from california at a nail salon} #{especially since the dr is known to not be racist TOWARDS HUMANS NO MATTER WHAT LIKE ITS WEAK. EXCUSE} #{oh but its 10? he wasnt like that before with rose with mickey? WHO TF YOU THINK HE LEARNED IT FROM? go talk to the wall} #{he learned jealousy from rose just as much as he learned all her traits. that comment mickey said? ITS NEVER GONNA BE ME like clearly cmon} #{like hello?? what is not clicking?! 'but she dated mickey' she settled for mickey ALWAYS AFTER A 30TO50 YR OLD MAN BROKE UP WITH HER} #{like yeah they were playing on that billie personal life but EXTREMELY LOOSELY} #{nah lemme go: because now yall want 15 with ruby and rose AFTER YALL WERE JUST COMPLAININ ABT MILES AND HOBIE W GWEN} #{this is why i rather have the moment back and 10 is just extremely pissed off and rude bc it 'stole' her face. u want unhinged 10 THATS IT} #{how dare you have her face! how dare you cuckolding yourself on a beach on a family show. THE READ IS THERE}

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]

Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.

But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.

The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.

It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.

He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”

“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.

“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”

His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.

He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.

Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—

“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.

You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”

“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep…here. With me?”

When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.

There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.

After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”

Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”

You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”

“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #.things i write

[sooniebby]

Thinking…. (Bottom male reader). Feminization is the main kink. Lemme know if I should expand this into a full fic!

Playboy reader who’s known for sleeping with everyone and their mama (literally). You have a girlfriend or boyfriend every two weeks, dropping them like flies when you get bored.

But you end up finding your new target for the week, the student council president. Much to your shock, you didn’t have to ware him down at all. You asked him out once and he said yes.

So you’re excited. You mostly get girlfriends and while they’re cool, boyfriends are your favorite! They always act so shy when you ride them for the first time. The more inexperienced, the more fun.

So imagine your shock when you’re over at your new “boyfriend’s” house and he has you dressed in a girly dress with knee high socks. At first, you just push past it… you don’t judge…

Until when you try to take over after foreplay, doing your usually riding when he doesn’t even react…? You’re about damn near pissed off, your legs are aching, you’re embarrassed about this damn outfit.

Doesn’t help he starts fucking yawning?!?!

It’s not until you straight up tell him, “what the hell man?! If I’m boring you so damn much, then you take over!”

Though it hurts your pride to not be the dominate player. He took your words to heart because suddenly your pressed against his wall, balancing on one leg while he holds the other up and slams his cock deep into your slicked hole.

He’s harsh and unpredictable. Even after you cum, your body heaving, you notice he’s not even close to tired.

You find yourself ass up and face pressed against the bed as he takes you like a bitch. Your riding was nothing compared to this. His large hands grip your ass before a smack is delivered to it, causing you to squeal in shock.

“You’re so cute, (Name)-Chan…Make that sound again…”

Chan?! You don’t even get to ask what’s with all this feminization when he’s fucking you like a slut in heat. It takes longer than you thought possible for him to finally reach his first orgasm of the night (your fourth).

You’re collapsed against the bed, struggling to breathe when he manhandled you onto your back, legs pushed to your chest. He grins at you, his glasses foggy as he leans down.

“You’re going to enjoy being my slut, (Name)-Chan. I’ve been waiting to make you mine. I’m going to ruin you so bad you’ll only want my cock in this tight cunt of yours.”

huh…. Guess you were no longer the playboy of your school anymore.

Tag list: @flurrina @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @rhetorical-conscience @iwishtobeacrow @kiiyoooo @remdayz @tomoeroi @the-ultimate-librarian @love-kha1 @ofclyde @smellwell @star-3214 @tehyunnie

#bottom male reader #x male reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #smut ideas #uke male reader

[todayisafridaynight]

I wanted to write in about my thoughts on Jo as a CSA survivor separately for a couple of reasons:

I already more or less have what I have to say on the topic in order thanks to talks with @starssystem and another friend [<3]

This is a massive tonal shift from anything else I could be discussing

This Is Massive In General For The Love Of God PLEASE Help Me

Obvious CSA CW for anyone else reading; I only discuss statistics, psychology, and the aftereffects seen in survivors here, but it's worth a warning.

With the disclaimers out of the way… I'd mentioned before I've only ever added one thing to Jo's background, and you were right: this is it! To me, there's so much thematic overlap in Jo's narrative with the experience of surviving CSA it's worth it to examine his character through the lens of that being the case. Of course, there are clearly-stated reasons for it all that Aren't That, but…

It's the pervasive guilt and shame, the lifelong secret that becomes too unbearable not to tell, the faulty coping mechanisms aimed at burying the trauma without having to face it, the reluctance to be sincere [vulnerable] and the lies and half-truths used to maintain the facade of invulnerability, the pursuit of power and control and the knee-jerk anger response when it's threatened, the pursuit of mastery over his body and the indifference to what happens to it. And the way a lot of it really does stem from a deeply traumatic childhood sexual experience from before either he or Ikumi understood what they were getting into, from before they could give informed consent.

Statistically, the further below the average age someone is for their first time, the likelihood of [at best] having been introduced to sex inappropriately and [at worst] having been abused at the time or earlier rises exponentially. Jo was 15 when Masato was conceived--possibly 14, since he was saying he "met" Arakawa at 15, and by then Masato was already born. To put this into perspective, since what ages register as concerning is largely cultural, the average age in the US and UK is 16-18. But in Japan, it's over 19.

To a Westerner [or even a heavily Westernized non-Westerner], having a kid at 15 is unfortunate, but not untenable; you've seen it on TV, you might know people like that, you might even be that kid or that parent. But in Jo's case, with him being 4 or 5 years younger than average, it's like if someone told you they had their first time--had a /kid/--at 13 or under. That's the equivalent discrepancy. That /is/ concerning, to me.

It's also something that's linked to negative outcomes in adulthood, partly because of the likelihood of forming bonds with poorly-adjusted peers. Jo specifically states he and Ikumi were only together because others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had back then. [As an aside, it's interesting to see him instinctively seek out a relationship where his pain would be understood without having to say anything--or one where he could assume it would, at any rate.]

When it comes to his relationship with Ikumi, I've always felt there was this "adult dynamic" between them--in the sense it feels like one that'd be more fitting for adults to get into than a couple of teens. It was, based on his wording, a primarily physical relationship neither of them expected to last even if they were living together. To me, it's one thing if you're fully convinced you're in love or you're experimenting or whatever and that results in an unplanned pregnancy, but it's another thing entirely to have such a bleak yet objective outlook on your relationship so young.

And it didn't have to be that way. He could've been just like Arakawa, head-over-heels in love with this girl who was The Only Good Thing He Had Going, or something like that. But the sheer contrast between how Arakawa was crazy about Akane and never forgot about her for the rest of his life, while Jo more-or-less-clearly didn't have feelings for Ikumi and can't bring himself to remember her name after living with her for at least a year and experiencing life-changing events with her…

It's notable to me that Arakawa maintains an interest in women while nearly every in-character interpretation I've seen makes Jo averse to women. Obviously, we don't really know that; it's probably just based on his general attitudes, his contrast with Arakawa, and maybe his immunity to Charm. But I think there's a reason a lot of people pick up on it and tie it to trauma rather than/in addition to a lack of interest in women.

I've talked about this through the lens of comphet already [and Jo being gay or ace or both would present other difficulties], but I can't overstate how notable it is on its own. We see Jo's response to traumatic events, and it's to become preoccupied with them, to investigate further if he has any leads. That's why he remembers every minute detail of the night Masato was born and the time he saw Arakawa attempt to comfort Masato when he was crying and hitting himself. I think it's also why he gets as far as he does when looking into Arakawa's death, and why he entrusts the search to Ichi. He never seems to manage to block them out, even if that's what he'd rather do--even if that's what he thinks he's doing.

So if he "[doesn't] even remember" the name of the mother of his child, I get the feeling there's something more going on. Like I've [probably] said in the past, Jo genuinely sounds traumatized by the relationship as a whole. More than anything else he's been through, and he's been through a lot. It's often the case that CSA survivors who are also survivors of other trauma view it as worse than anything else that happened to them.

And that's not to implicate Ikumi at all, I don't think it's a case of COCSA--everything I've said holds just as true for her, and she had to suffer the additional trauma of an unwanted pregnancy and childbirth, at that. Rather, I think it would make sense for something like CSA, which often incontrovertibly reconfigures one's relationship with sex and love, to be a factor in why they rushed into a something physical before they were mature enough to handle it.

Some victims end up having perfectly healthy experiences, some victims end up avoiding them, some victims end up re-victimized, and some victims end up with a mixed bag--there's a lot of variation. But some victims do end up having relationships like this and making mistakes like this, because that's all they know, or because they want to heal but don't [or don't know how to] go about it in a healthy way, at a healthy pace. And I definitely think if you recognize that's what the basis of your relationship was, that it all comes back to something you'd rather forget, it'd make sense to want to forget the relationship as a whole.

To that end, it's possible to come away from a relationship traumatized even if no one did anything wrong. I've [probably] talked about how the way Jo comforts her at the station feels like he's doing it for her sake and pushing his own feelings down, but neither of them is really buying it. If that's a pattern in their relationship, perhaps he wouldn't have been able to communicate if maybe what they were doing was dredging up bad memories, if he wanted to stop but didn't think she did. So to go through with it, then get the news months later…

Either way, the fact Ikumi couldn't bring herself to tell him she was pregnant until nothing could be done would, for Jo, invariably cement the feeling he has no control over what happens around him. I think the sense of powerlessness he felt is why he blew up at her when she told him, because it's really the only time we see him lash out like that at her. At the park, he objects to going back for Masato, sure, but he's passive. And I think that unbroken pattern of powerlessness in his life [which CSA would only compound on] is why he's so reactionary, why he's so emotionally dysregulated, why he expresses his rage through what basically amounts to power-tripping.

But I do think Jo does have a great deal of awareness. A lot of his wording when he's telling Ichi about it borders on poetic, or at the very least candid and effective. That requires both prior reflection and a command of language. I think there's a lot he understands deep down, at least after sitting with it for long enough, but he isn't capable of voicing--or doesn't know how to voice--what's on his mind, most of the time.

So when he joins the Arakawa Family, when he rises the ranks and has that control back, his control has to be near-absolute. If it's undermined in any way--such as, for example, a certain someone failing to answer a call within two rings--he loses it. On the other side of the coin, I do feel a lot of why his devotion and gratitude towards Arakawa goes to the extent it does, why he's so comfortable with him, is because Arakawa gave him the safety of the Arakawa Family, gave him back his autonomy, gave him the environment--and treated him with enough humanity to give him the reason--to learn to regulate himself, to better himself.

And Arakawa /gets/ trauma. He really does. Aside from his own abusive background, literally the only time the word trauma comes out of any character's mouth in this series, it's Arakawa's. It comes back to Jo saying others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had; that never changed, did it?

Lastly, For Funsies [<- LIE. COMPLETE LIE. TURN BACK NOW] I wanted to go through the items on this [CSA] Survivors' Aftereffects Checklist I could check off with near-certainty. 19/34, by the way, give or take. Now, as I said at the beginning, there are existing concrete reasons for why he has many of these experiences… but it's like the trans allegory with Masato, To Me… If I can check off over half the list based on a very limited backstory and an hour of screen time total, that's indicative of a notable overlap… TO ME…

Note that the book this list is from was published in 1990 and focuses on women's experiences. It was a huge step forward in giving survivors a voice back when a lot of existing research indicated CSA had neutral or even positive effects on children, but it's definitely a product of its time. With that out of the way…

Wearing a lot of clothing, even in summer […]

To be fair, most male characters in RGG are fully-covered and have near-unchanging designs, and it's winter in both 2000/2001 and presumably 2019, but… when it comes to Jo, it feels a little different.

He does have Some Heavage in his twenties [although the necklace takes the attention off of his actual chest], but as time goes on, he shows less and less skin and adds more and more layers. When he has the gloves on, it leaves no skin exposed at all, and there's this direct symbolic correlation with secrecy that isn't there for other characters. And if you're wearing three layers of leather [or even one], you can neither feel what you're touching nor feel anything touch you.

Pure Speculation, but I just can't really see him underdressed for any occasion… That's why his fit in Day with the Sun is funny as hell but also… yeah…

As a behavior, if it's rooted in anything, it's probably rooted in having to hide signs of physical abuse, of course--but then he kind of already had an excuse, with how he was constantly getting into fights. I guess it depends on the specifics, but I think it's interesting to consider this as one way CSA victims attempt to regain control of their bodies, avoiding emotional discomfort at the cost of physical discomfort.

Self-destructiveness

It's nothing super overt, but I see this most clearly represented in his second boss fight in particular; his willingness to wield a blade bare-handed while using enough force he could very well render his hand useless. I think it's potentially also evident in how he has severe cataracts he chooses to ignore and allow to worsen, despite having the reasons and resources to undergo surgery to restore his vision. In doing so, he literally and figuratively blinds himself to so much.

I also kind of think the assassination of Hoshino/the anonymous call and The Eye Scene are examples of self-sabotage. I mean, he literally was sabotaging himself in the former, but it's also the specific way he feels the need to be physically taken down in order to be stopped--possibly a holdover from RGGJo, who's only too happy to be beaten into a coma.

I don't know… It's hard to pinpoint, but I feel like he would be averse to most of the more "obvious" self-destructive behaviors--especially when he has people in his life who might notice and worry, like Ikumi and Arakawa. That and because many of them are addictive. He's seen what that's done to his father, and he's also developed this incredibly rigid sense of discipline he can't maintain if he doesn't have a clear head.

From how he talks about himself [as having lost his humanity and lived a half-assed life], I definitely think he's at the very least unkind to himself, but I also think he does externalize it by provoking others to harm him [in the case of physical fights] and reject him. Like he needs some kind of proxy perpetrator. For some abuse victims, this specific manifestation of self-destructive behavior is a way to regain control--whether or not you "deserved it" back then, you do now, as a direct, logical result of your actions.

Need to be invisible, perfect, or perfectly bad

I think each of these needs manifests in different ways for Jo. The need to be invisible can be seen with authority figures (mainly Aoki, but also Arakawa in The Yubitsume Scene, a little; how drastically he pulls back and tries to act "normal")--this relates to what you were talking about with being reluctant to intrude or take up space. If you fall under the radar, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfect can be seen in his seemingly "impossible" standards, I would say. Of course, because we see things from Ichiban's perspective, we tend to see them as unfair and often arbitrary demands. But they aren't arbitrary to Jo, are they? They're standards he holds himself to through and through. If you're good, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfectly bad can be seen in and relates to much of what I discussed under self-destructiveness [The Eye Scene and the way he antagonizes Ichiban specifically by making himself out to be worse than he is]. If you must get hurt, it can at least "make sense"--be "deserved."

Suicidal thoughts, attempts, obsession (including "passive suicide")

Obviously he's not like… Mine Levels Of Overtly And Consistently Suicidal, and he doesn't attempt suicide himself, but at the same time, I have to note his total ambivalence towards Aoki seeing him as a "bullet" (a kind of hitman sent on suicide missions). He agreed to what he himself viewed as a suicide mission and he didn't care what would happen to him afterward, as he says to Joon-gi, Zhao, and Adachi.

Aside from that, I certainly feel he's at least had passive thoughts like wanting to disappear or wishing he'd never been born. Y'know. Nothing concrete, but reflective of his mental state, and just as detrimental to dwell on long-term.

I think there's a sort of childishness [for lack of a better word] to thoughts like these [in that they're impossible], but also a level of maturity in that it probably doesn't escalate to something more actionable because he understands he has responsibilities he can't abandon. I think if he was ever seriously suicidal, it would be at the points of his life where he really didn't have any responsibility to anyone, like between Ikumi leaving and him joining the family, or after he was arrested.

Depression (sometimes paralyzing) […]

I'm trying not to over explain going forward because I Have BEEN Overexplaining It Is SUCH A Disaster… he's depressed If You Have Eyes And/Or Ears… I'll leave it at that…

Anger issues; inability to recognize, own, or express anger; constant anger […]

Lol

Rigid control of one's thought process; humorlessness or extreme solemnity

Relates back to what I was saying about how disciplined he is [and expects everyone else to be], but in general, he's incredibly, incredibly serious and focused. I don't think he's /entirely/ humorless [but then again, very few people are]; I just think his specific sense of humor is. Like. What Is Your Problem [I Know What Your Problem Is I Have Been Discussing It In EXCRUCIATING Detail But What The Fuck Is Your Problem]

Trust issues; inability to trust (trust is not safe); total trust; trusting indiscriminately

That's why he was planning on taking his secret to the grave, isn't it? It was only when faced with the realization it would soon be too late to say anything that he was able to tell Ichiban. He could've trusted Arakawa, should've been able to, but… in his mind he never could.

This book [and this checklist] is about "incest" actually, but it redefines "incest" to mean any instance of CSA perpetrated by any individual the victim trusts or has an expectation of being able to implicitly trust. Which… is most CSA as we understand it today, so I've edited some parts to just say that.

Anyway, I've never given much thought to the specifics of what Jo might've experienced--who did it, what happened, how long it went on, etc.--so there's no conclusion I can draw here [and elsewhere, I'm sure]… but even without that, to grow up unable to trust the one person who should be in his corner, his father, and to have his trust betrayed by Ikumi, it's no surprise Jo ended up like this either way. So… I'm happy he had the courage to tell Ichi, in the end.

High risk taking ("daring the fates"); inability to take risks

I think these are supposed to be mutually exclusive, but to me, Hoshino's assassination and Arakawa's assassination represent both sides of the coin, although they're not the only examples. There are risks Jo won't think twice about taking and risks that paralyze him.

Boundary issues; control, power, territoriality issues; fear of losing control; obsessive/compulsive behaviors (attempts to control things that don't matter, just to control something)

Lol…

Guilt, shame; low self-esteem, feeling worthless; high appreciation of small favors by others

Lmao Even…

Feeling demand to "produce and be loved"; instinctively knowing and doing what the other person needs or wants; relationships mean big tradeoffs (love was taken, not given)

I actually think this encapsulates a lot of what I've been saying about his work ethic, his ideas of discipline, and his relationship with Ikumi, but I also think it's why Masato took a liking to him. His attentiveness. It ties back into wanting to be perfect; when you're abused--especially long-term--you become attuned to observing and responding to any shifts in mood or tone. This is another area where I can't draw any conclusions relevant to my point, but it does certainly relate to his father's abuse, at any rate.

Abandonment issues

Kind of contentious… The anticipation of being abandoned by or losing someone he cares about appears to be worse than the actual experience. He's fine with Ikumi leaving him, and he's… not Fine With, but able to come to terms with Arakawa's death and Aoki's abandonment of him. At the same time, he really does try to make Ikumi's stay in his life comfortable, and he spends almost forty years doing his damnedest to keep his family together, whatever the cost. If I were to extrapolate from RGGJo, though, /he/ does have an obsessive, unhealthy attachment to Arakawa.

Blocking out some period of early years (especially 1–12); or a specific person or place

Ikumiiiiii that's what I'm SAYINGGGG

Feeling of carrying an awful secret; urge to tell, fear of its being revealed; certainty no one will listen; being generally secretive […]

Rofl Perhaps…

Denial; […] repression of memories; pretending; minimizing ("it wasn't that bad") […]

He admits to it himself. Not much else to say. Though I don't think he necessarily minimizes what he's been through by dismissing how bad it was; rather, he tends to overestimate his ability to move past it.

Pattern of ambivalent or intensely conflictive relationships (intimacy is a problem; also focus shifted from [CSA] issues)

Also kind of contentious… we don't see a pattern of romantic relationships, as I assume the author meant here, but at the same time, the romantic relationship and non-romantic relationships we do see fit this pattern. I guess I'd say I definitely think intimacy /would/ be a problem, and he /wouldn't/ be ready to address his issues.

Limited tolerance for happiness; active withdrawal from happiness, reluctance to trust happiness ("ice=thin")

The quote that prompted this ask in the first place. It's sort of connected to the point about humorlessness and extreme solemnity; if that was the "what," this is the "why." He doesn't know how to relax ["holidays don't exist" and all], he doesn't have much to be happy about, but even rarer is the occasion where he doesn't feel too conflicted in the moment to be able to enjoy himself. That's just how I see him.

[…] verbal hypervigilance (careful monitoring of one's words); quiet-voiced, especially when needing to be heard

EXACTLY what I was talking about in this ask, so I'm leaving that one up to past me…

......

... That's It That's The Essay I'm going to hibernate until Infinite Wealth comes out and somehow refutes my points but UNTIL THEN. Farewell, take care, and once more, don't worry too much about matching my energy… Like I Said if I were the one receiving this ask I'd just delete my blog, so… I'll just be happy to know you read it :] If That lmao

ok i read it :) 👁️👁️ READMYTAGSTHERESMORETHEREIPROMISE

#long post #cw csa #doublin up to add cw warnins in the tags just in case <3 lemme know if i should throw more tags down here..... im bad at cw tags.... #i forget my bookmark tag for asks from you i stg if i cant find this ask in the future im kmsing (in minecraft) immediately #snap chats #THE SNORT I MADE AT THE DEADPAN 'LOL'☠️ maybe i SHOULDVE put text In The Main Text i have A Lot of Thoughts.. #im leavin the main text empty since. ngl i was just gonna compare/contrast to myself again... and say a lot of what weve said b4.. #UNFORTUNATELY a lot of the things listed here uhmmmm Hm <3 Uh Oh <3 i do understand. Dare I Say personally. just a bit #I DO HAVE TO DISCLAIM ive never been a survivor of THOSE circumstances or really. any abuse tbh- brain just sucks and im a baby #and i cant say no BUT ANYWAY I HAVE REASONS FOR BEIN AN EGOTIST I SWEAR its cause I Somewhat had those exps/i understand them #i can REAAAALLLYY easily see where your points are coming from.... very easily even... like very in-depth.. #even if i didnt cry bout spilled milk every other day it IS clear to see the signs of abuse in sawashiro once you know them #i've def talked bout those aspects of him whether in tag rambles or in streams or have Attempted to express it via fics #so really the bits to chew on for me esp this time round is the more CSA aspects #tbh when it comes to bein unable to see him intimate or 'underdressed' i agree: incredibly hard for me to imagine #the thing with 'symptoms' of abuse is that they kinda overlap i guess ?? #in that regard it can either be a need to impress or protect himself/needing to be seen less #when it comes to doing certain things because of CSA i could see it as a result of another abuse too. if that makes sense #THOUGH THAT ISNT TO DISCREDIT THE IDEA nono cause there still exists the Now That I Think About It circumstances of masato #even if we look at it through Western Norms(TM) two- essentially homeless- kids having. A Kid is still bizarre #cause again teen pregnancies generally happen as a result of Bein Irresponsible With A Schoolmate- not that other situations cant exist #but thats the most common innit so. def an aspect to consider. All Things Considered. esp jo's self-separation from ikumi #BUT YEAH i feel like if i try to respond im just gonna end up typing up a textbook bout abuse since. UNFORTUNATELY #childhood psychology is my field of interest. and aint no one readin THAT phat thing. esp when ill prob repeat myself or you ☠️ #tbh remindin meself of when i said id write psyche papers on mine and/or jo.... oops 👀💋👀 savin this to steal notes from LOL #i hope yo know i WAS thoroughly intrigued reading this. As Ive Said childhood psyche is Literally My Field and this is v thorough and good #so im always interested in readin bout How X Caused Y in Z... very interesting many MANY things to think about.. ty... #forever cursed to be an idiot cause i really wish i could talk better and say somethin of substance.. ik you said its fine but still.. #im always open to chat bout this more if youd like PLEASE dont think my lack of Main Text is disinterest Im Just Stupid. But We Know That

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

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MCU masterlist

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