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[loveofcharacters]

That image of hime will never leave her mind. She knows it's a bold thing to say, but she knows in her gut, it will stay with her. Letting out a small sigh, she hated herself for playing with his mind and emotions. "In what way? If you were to be honest now, what would you say about where you were mentally?" She knew Grace said he couldn't be pushed, but she needed to try. "And would this have built up the way it did if you were seeing your therapist more regularly?" She didn't want to scold him, but she wanted to support him, which means scheduling therapy appointments, both as his assistant and his girlfriend- whoa. The subtlety that thought came to her stunned her for a second, abort, abort, abort. Looking back at him forcefully focusing on him to deter her own inner spiral.

Smiling and letting out a soft chuckle at the thought of slapping him across the face, her facial expression soured the more he divulged his inner thoughts. "Wow, those thoughts either really hate me or are out to get you." She tried to joke. She could see he was embarrassed and her heart hurt for him because he had no reason for it. "You know I don't feel that way right?" She knew he admitted it was a stupid thought, but she wanted him to hear it from her. "Especially when I'm not 'dealing' with you. If anything, you're 'dealing' with me. You have a legitimate diagnosis to back up your stuff, I'm just... a naive and gullible idiot." Chuckling at her own expense. "I don't know," She said awkwardly disliking any talk around money, specifically someone else buying her anything. "It is an expense, technically, but I can get my own phone. You pay be very well to be able to afford a new one." She felt so awkward as if she had insects crawling underneath her skin, "It's fine, I can buy it." She said quickly, desperate for this conversation to be over, "I'll buy it later, or tomorrow, or whenever." She nodded. "You know, I really like getting back into bed idea. Where are your spare sheets? I can go make the bed, or we can use that guest room I've been neglecting."

He hated that he put her through that, that she'd had to see him like that. It was worse that he knew she blamed herself for it when, in reality, she'd done nothing wrong. "I was in a weird place yesterday. Everything building up the way it had, feeling like I was going to lose you before we ever even got to have anything..." Maybe he didn't want to discuss it right now but he couldn't avoid it forever. "I wasn't being honest about where I was mentally either and it caught up to me." Honestly he didn't know if a shock to the system would work or not. Everyone seemed to want to treat him with such a soft touch when he got to be a certain way. But it might work. "It's definitely worth a shot. Like, don't slap me across the face or anything because I don't know how I would react to that. But maybe a hug or something? Something to knock me out of it. You being there helped, I swear it did. I just... honestly, when your call dropped I thought something happened to you and I was so close to calling the cops but I didn't know where you were and then the intrusive thoughts just snaked in and told me you'd hung up on me on purpose and that you didn't want to deal with me anymore. It was stupid." He felt embarrassed and it showed on his face. "What I really want is to get back into bed but we can definitely get you a new phone. Is that considered a company expense or are you not going to let me cover that one? You can use mine if you need to make calls or anything. I've got nothing to hide."

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-three of “obligatory sugar baby Kon”; no cut today. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“That the best you got, babe?” Kon calls teasingly. Tim glances back over his shoulder at him for a moment and sees Kon standing there grinning at him and feels a little–weird, maybe, about how easily Kon just called him that even with his voice raised. It’s not like . . . 

Well. He’s not out, obviously, and very obviously Kon is not out because otherwise Superboy would’ve told the whole damn world exactly what he thought about anyone who had a problem with that, but Tim Drake isn’t a superhero, and Robin isn’t a public figure. There’s not–it isn’t–the same, technically. 

And Tim knows that they’ve been very obviously on dates while out in public and not really worrying about who saw, objectively speaking. Like–he’s perfectly aware of that fact. Obviously. But it’s not like they’re really doing that around anyone they ever have to see again. They aren’t, like–introducing each other to anyone, or inviting each other over, or . . . 

Well–Kon said he couldn’t invite him over, admittedly. Cadmus has clearance or whatever, and the Justice Cave isn’t really civilian-friendly either, even though they use it as a hangout more than anything else sometimes. So technically it’s just Tim not inviting Kon over, but . . . 

. . . . . . should he be inviting Kon over? Is that, like . . . a thing he should be doing? 

Tim spends half a second picturing explaining Kon to his dad and Dana without outing himself and decides that he would actually rather jump off a bridge without a grappling line. Just–no. No, he is not going there. He is buying Kon a cul-de-sac or a condo or a small to mid-sized suburb and Kon can invite him over, if he wants to, and no one’s legal guardians will be involved whatsoever. 

Not that Kon actually, like, has those. Maybe somewhere there’s some paperwork with a “property of Cadmus Labs” rubber stamp on it, but not in any real way. 

Tim spends another half a second seething with rage about literally everything about the state of this bullshit-ass planet, then heads for the edge of the bowl and drops straight down into it. 

He really needs to not be thinking about that shit right now, so yeah, definitely time for some actual skating. 

Mind, Tim doesn’t really know what kind of skate tricks would actually interest Kon, since actually impressing him is realistically very unlikely, given the nature of literally everything about Kon’s entire life experience and also just the fact Kon can literally fly.

[lurkingshan]

Hey Shan!! IDK if you're planning to do a BL wrap up or superlatives or anything like that this year so this question might be a bit too early but um...what has been a few of your favorite first watches for 2024 bls?

Hi Eboni! This is actually pretty good timing for a list because most of the shows that will end within 2024 are already over! The only two I could see maybe making my list that have not ended yet are Love is Like a Poison (Japan) and Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China), so I'll mention them here (fingers crossed they end well and stay favs).

That said, here are my favorite completed BLs of 2024 (alpha order)!

At 25:00 in Akasaka (Japan, Gaga)

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, old feelings resurface, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This show is super beautiful and moody.

Cooking Crush (Thailand, YouTube or WeTV for uncut)

Ten and Prem are my favorite of OffGun's many couples. Ten is a med student with food issues who wants to learn how to cook, and Prem is a chef in training. Their romance is super sweet and I also really like the side couple and friend groups in this one.

Cherry Magic Thailand (Thailand, YouTube or Viu, requires VPN)

I still can't believe this show happened. How on earth did GMMTV manage to make a superior version of Cherry Magic?? Tay Tawan had a lot to do with it, along with a very smart adaptation. It's so sweet and funny and perfect (if you just pretend ep 8 doesn't exist).

City of Stars (Thailand, iQIYI)

I was surprised by how much I liked this charming little Thai pulp. It had an interesting story with strong writing and the pair was very good together. More people should watch it!

I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama (Japan, Gaga)

This is a short and sweet and note perfect BL comedy about two actors falling for each other while making a BL. Loaded with meta jokes about the industry and stan culture and very loving about it.

Knock Knock Boys (Thailand, Gaga)

I am obsessed with this excellent Thai BL that not nearly enough people watched. Two couples, both compelling and sexy and fun, and amazing friendship dynamics. I want everyone to watch it!

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (S Korea, iQIYI)

My top BL of the year. It's a second chance romance, you see the characters both in high school and later as adults and I don't really want to spoil anything else about it. It's beautiful, the characters are so compelling, and the story is masterfully told.

Love for Love's Sake (S Korea, iQIYI)

This one is special and quite unique, and I also don't want to spoil much about it! It begins with a basic isekai set up that then goes to some unexpected places. Really, really beautiful show.

Love Sea (Thailand, iQIYI)

Definitely my favorite spicy romance of the year. I really loved a lot about the story for this one, in particular the class dynamics that defined the characters and their relationship, and Mahasamut (played by Fort) is on my list of favorite drama characters this year.

Marahuyo Project (Philippines, YouTube)

We didn't get much from the Philippines this year, but they did drop one absolute banger in this show about a fierce and proud gay kid who gets booted out of school in Manila and sent to live with his grandma and mother on a small island. He makes friends and enemies and starts an LGBTQ+ club, and falls in love along the way.

Mr Mitsuya's Planned Feeding (Japan, fansub)

An excellent age gap romance about a young editor and the chef who writes for his magazine making food together and falling in love. Lots of fun side characters, too. I loved every minute of this show.

Perfect Propose (Japan, Gaga)

Two old friends meet when one of them is in need of housing and one is on the verge of a nervous breakdown from a soul-sucking corporate job, and help each other heal. This one is short and sweet.

Ossan's Love Returns (Japan, Gaga)

This one is technically a sequel, but you can enjoy it without having seen the original (and might like it better that way, tbh). One of the funniest shows of the year and featuring a main couple that is a personal fav and are now on my ride or die list.

Takara's Treasure (Japan, Gaga)

This one is a simple story but so, so sweet. A cute little bean follows his mysterious idol to university and joins the hiking club to get to know him better. They get to know each other slowly and fall in love.

Unknown (Taiwan, Viki)

ALMOST my favorite bl of the year, but we had a few issues on the back end. Despite that, I still loved it a whole lot. A family drama and a love story about two chosen brothers whose relationship changes over time. Easily the best BL Taiwan made this year.

Looking at this list, I am realizing how absolutely invaluable my Gaga and iQIYI subscriptions have become; it's where nearly all my favorite BL is airing.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty seven

authors note: none.

cw/tw: angst, threats of violence, csa survivor being triggered

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k

Solana gasps when the familiar scent of her husband’s cologne, strong yet subtle, invades her nostrils conjoined with the welcoming embrace of his strong arms around her body. Naturally, she turns around from the counter where she was putting away dishes, a small smile on her face as he rests his hands on the small of her back. 

However, her grin dims a bit when she sees he’s fully dressed. “You’re leaving already?”

Roman nods, explaining, “I need to get back on track. The sooner, the better.” 

His words, logically, make sense. But, they do nothing to abate her nerves. “What if you worked from home?” She then proposes in an almost selling manner. “I called off today anyway, so I’ll be here in case you need something.”

Something being a euphemism for the word anything. In the few days that have passed since the funeral, Solana has continued to stay with and watch her husband like a hawk. Ready to support him in any way that he needs, the memory of him breaking down in front of her, holding her while he cried into her stomach, something she will never forget.

Something he desperately needed.

And something he hasn’t outright spoken about. She gets it. Understands how both major and uncomfortable that had to have been for him. Emotions are tricky and confusing, and for someone who’s used to pushing them away, feeling them all at once can be….an experience.

His thick brows furrow slightly, as he asks the million dollar question. “Why’d you call off?”

Shit.

A couple of reasons. 

Beyond just the obvious of wanting to be physically present and available for him.

One, while her husband was in their home gym, trying to work off some of his still heavy emotions, she sat near the toilet for almost twenty minutes, vomiting twice and afraid of a third occurrence, hence her not leaving. Second, Solana still feels not the best—morning sickness attacking her with all the rage the past two days. Three, she has the appointment today. 

And none of these things can be said to the man before her who looks understandably confused. 

So, she goes with a not entirely untrue answer but not the full truth either. “Didn’t really feel up to it today.” Her fingers scrunch the soft material of his shirt. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave you alone….”

And that is not a lie. Solana has tried her best to keep reminding herself that she can’t be with her husband 24/7, but given how they have been together practically 24/7 for over a week straight, it’s kind of hard not to want that to continue.

She’s anxious at the thought of not being nearby in case he needs something.

In case he needs her.

Roman shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” There’s a hint of concern etched in his handsome features as he asks, “are you sure you’re okay?” Solana does her best to remain with a neutral expression even as his shifts into something of a frown. “Feel like you’ve been sick a lot lately...”

“Stress,” she answers. Again, technically not a lie. “It’s just been…..a lot recently.” But then, she feels bad because she sees that he feels bad. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I just need to make sure you’re….okay enough.”

Because wanting him to be good is a ridiculous expectation. Not with what he’s just been through. She knows better than anyone how recovery from a major loss like that can take some time. 

A lot of time.

Roman’s still looking at her unconvinced. Like….like there’s something he’s not saying.

Or asking.

And, it’s unnerving, because sitting on a pile of secrets is always stressful enough. Adding in her overtly protective and possibly suspicious husband is even more unsettling and not anything she can tolerate right now.

“I’ll come see you at lunch then,” she suggests, partially wanting to actually check on him mid-day but also needing them to get off this subject. 

It seems to work, as he objects, “you don’t have to do that, Sol.”

“But, I want to,” she counters, lifting her palm to his cheek. “You’ve helped me get to the point where I’m okay….now it’s my turn.”

Solana is unsure what okay will look like for Roman, because everyone’s definition is different. But, whatever it is, whatever it requires, she’s willing and ready to walk with him, right by his side, the entire time.

Roman leans down and kisses her forehead, muttering, “come with me.” He straightens back up and goes to grab her hand, explaining, “I want to show you something.” 

Solana nods and allows him to walk them out the kitchen and past the living room where she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. Roman guides them up the steps and into their bedroom only for her to gasp, turning to him with a small smile. “Roman? What is all of this?”

This referring to the more than several set of small to medium black, luxury shopping bags with a foreign word written in calligraphy sitting on the dresser. Moving closer, another gasp when she realizes they’re almost all filled with various sized jewelry boxes. 

“When did you even….” She trails off, grabbing a random box and opening it, mouth dropping at the stunning diamond necklace. “Roman, this is beautiful.” Because it is, and she’s certain every other piece he’s apparently purchased for her is just as stunning. 

He’s moved over towards her, arms crossed as he explains, “it’s handmade Italian jewelry. I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d like best, so I just got it all.” He says it so casually, Solana’s eyes widening at the thought of how much all of this could have cost. 

“How much did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “You’re worth it all.”

His words warm her heart and make those butterflies form as her eyes land on something else. Carefully closing the box and placing it back inside the bag, she’s quick with grabbing the beautiful brown leathered book. “You got me journals!” It’s said with such elation, almost childlike, evoking a chuckle from Roman. The smile on her face widening as she runs her hand over the soft cover. Opening said journal, an engravement on the inside of the front cover catches her attention. It’s written in what she would guess is Italian.

Italian jewelry. Italian leather, most likely. Putting two and two together would indicate these are gifts he got her while he was away in Italy. A realization that makes her heart flutter. He was there on business yet still made time for her.

Always thinking of her.

Moved and now especially curious about the words she cannot read for herself, Solana asks, “what does it say?”

And without even reading it, Roman speaks in Italian, moving his hand to gently cup her face as he translates in a quiet voice, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her heart swells, eyes shutting momentarily to bask in the moment. Love is such a beautiful, sacred thing, treasured and coveted. Something she’s found, so deeply and heavenly, with him.

Always with him. 

And it’s in that moment, as she leans up and kisses him, reciprocating her vow of love, that it hits her. 

Solana knows exactly what tattoo she wants to get for her husband.

————

The minute the backdoor is opened and Roman slides in the SUV, he’s met with Dwayne’s hulking frame, phone glued to his ear.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s impossible. Make it possible,” he barks. Roman chuckles. His cousins’s temper can rival his at times, and this aggression and irritation that fills the SUV makes it a bit easier for him to drift from sorrow to business. 

Emotions have always been…..weird for him. Something he’s always possessed but worked tirelessly to push away and suppress, only to ever really reveal and express around one woman before Solana.

Fetu.

She was always his safe space. His anchor. His safety.

Her being gone isn’t something that’s computed, that’s truly set in, that he’s accepted. Or, maybe he has. Maybe it was that crushing realization that not only is she gone but that he didn’t even get to see or speak to her one last time that made him break down in his wife’s arms.

Years.

It’s been years since Roman has cried. Not since the day of the funerals where he refused to leave the gravesite of his deceased family. Where he cried and apologized profusely for hours for not being able to save them.

For failing them and not being strong enough to do so.

That….that was the last day he’d allowed himself to shed a tear.

Until now.

It was both a strange, liberating experience. One he never wants to experience again but also…..needs.

Two opposing forces that make little sense and account for a shit ton of cognitive dissonance. 

The only thing that does make sense is his wife.

Solana.

That is the one thing, the one person he needs. Now more than ever.

And she’s been nothing but his rock throughout this whole thing. Even when he tried to push her away and ice her out, she stayed. Supported him. Helped him. Cared for him. Loved him. 

He wasn’t lying when he told her he couldn’t have made it through this without her.

He couldn’t.

At all. 

And as nice as being with her, not having to think or focus on anything but himself and all of his heavy ass emotions has been, it couldn’t last forever. 

Because as much as he still feels not okay, he’s gotta pull it together. 

One way or another. 

“Yeah….that’s what I fucking thought,” Dwayne snaps, pulling Roman from his thoughts, before snatching the phone from his ear and smashing the red end button. “Fucking incompetent pieces of shit.”

“Do I want to know?” Roman asks, even though he really wants to substitute want with need. Right now, essential information and problems is all he wants to tackle this day. It’s bad enough his Wise Man is out sick.

Paul is usually the buffer and filter for all the bullshit, something Roman truly has little patience for on most days, even more on a day like today.

“Naw.” Dwayne shakes his head. “I got it.” He turns to his cousin as Roman signals for the driver to start driving. “How you doing?”

A dumbass question in Roman’s mind, but he doesn’t say as such. “Fine.” He’s not, but as easy as Dwayne can be to talk to sometimes, if Roman is going to talk to someone about feelings and shit, it’s going to be his wife.

And, well, her. 

Maybe. 

“Bullshit,” Dwayne calls him out, lightly shoving his shoulder. “But, getting back into the swing of things might be helpful for you. You like yelling at people.”

“I shouldn’t have to though,” is the easy counter. “People should just do their fucking job.”

Dwayne gestures to his phone. “That’s what I just told this dumbass.” Roman snickers and shakes his head as his older cousin clears his throat and suddenly asks, “that wife of yours talk to you?”

Roman easily hides the way his shoulders tense at being asked about Solana. “About?”

Dwayne’s expression shifts into something a bit more serious, and this isn’t lost upon Roman. “About what went down with Rikishi?”

“Yes.” The answer to that is easy and simple. Solana did technically tell him something happened between her and his older cousin, but she did not say specifics. And he knows that was for a reason. “Now tell me what really happened.”

————

The conference room is already filled with the expected persons by the time Roman and Dwayne arrive. All but two chairs are occupied as Jimmy, Jey, Solo, Rikishi, and Matteo wait with various expressions. The sons and father seem to be engaged in quiet conversation while Matteo keeps to himself, preoccupied with the phone in his hand.

That dynamic is about all that Roman can make out as he marches right into said conference room, Dwayne not too far behind. The men are barely able to finish standing when Roman marches right over to Rikishi’s chair, grabbing him by his collar, snatching him out the chair and shoving him against the nearest wall. 

Roman is somewhat cognizant of the voices of shock and protest around him, but it doesn’t make a single fucking difference.

He’s seeing red.

Muscled forearm barred against Rikishi’s fat neck, he finds joy in the way the older man’s eyes are bulging and the almost desperate way his chubby fingers try to push him away. “If you ever in your fucking life raise your hand to her again, I’ll kill you! You understand me!” Roman relishes in the absolute fear emanating from the man before him. Good. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my wife!”

By now, Roman is a bit more cognizant to the hands grasping at him, trying to pull him away from his target.

“Ayo, Uce, what the hell you doing!” Jimmy’s voice makes it past the thick wall of anger that fills and consumes Roman as he thinks about this fucker having to audacity to try to hit his wife.

Over Roman’s dead fucking body will anyone disrespect Solana. Especially his family.

“Get the hell off him!” Roman is finally “pulled” away from a now gasping, coughing Rikishi. It’s truly Roman’s decision to let go, because ain’t no way in hell not a man in that room could stop him from killing this son of a bitch right now if he wanted to.

And a part of him does. He really does. But, it’s hard to tell how much of that desire is fueled by his grief vs logic. 

But, it’s when Roman realizes both Jey and Solo are standing in front of a reddened face Rikishi, while Jimmy tends to his dad, that he really gets pissed the fuck off. They have the audacity to look like they’re ready to jump him. “What ya’ll about to do, huh?” Roman challenges, ready for whatever. As he always is. “Ya’ll ain’t about to do shit!” 

And maybe, just maybe, they are. Doesn’t matter. He’ll kick both their asses and make their daddy watch. 

Jimmy then moves over after helping Rikishi to his feet. “Roman, what the hell are you even talking about?”

Chin jutted in Rikishi’s direction, his answer is cold and direct. “Ask him.”

Another harsh cough followed by an unexpected answer as he moves to the side, no longer completely obscured by the protective wall of two of his sons. “She hit me first. Did she tell you that?”

At that answer, both Jey and Jimmy look slightly taken back. Solo just continues to glare at Roman, who’s tempted to knock him out for that disrespect alone.

“She did,” Dwayne suddenly chimes, him and Matteo simply watching the scene unfold without a hint of interference. For now. “But, this was only after you made fun of her being abused and basically told her she was useless because she hasn’t produced an heir yet.” Just hearing it again has Roman’s eyes closing and hand fisting at his side. Rage. “Regardless, you know the rules. We don’t put our fucking hands on women.” And then an almost knowing comment/question. “Or have you forgotten?”

It’s a simple question, but it feels like there’s a story there. The way anger flashes in Rikishi’s face and eyes, something similar to what’s painted on his twins faces. Roman, however, is redirected from wondering if there was more to said comment by Jimmy and Jey switching their focus back to their dad.

“Dad, did you really do that?” Jimmy is the one to ask, shaking his head. “Tell me you ain’t say that shit.”

Rikishi doesn’t hesitate to defend himself. “The girl was out of line.”

“Aye,” Jimmy is the one to cut him off. “Her name is Solana, alright?”

“Just let him talk,” Jey interrupts. “Two sides to every story.”

“Not when it’s a man trying to hit a woman,” Jimmy counters. “Making fun of her trauma and shit.”

Jey is also not backing down. “Look, we weren’t there, alright?”

“But, I was, and I saw exactly what went down,” Dwayne reminds, crossing his arms. 

“And if I may,” Matteo suddenly enters the conversation, Jey only looking more irritated than before. “Under no circumstance should a man try to hit a woman. Ever.” 

Jey doesn’t hesitate to try to put Matteo in his place. “Aye, look, this don’t involve you, alright. This Bloodline business.” 

“I suggest you lower your voice.” Matteo’s own voice takes on an icy tone as he so chillingly threatens, “I’d hate to have to spill your blood in front of your family. On this otherwise lovely day, too. A shame.”

Matteo’s very real threat only further incenses Jey. “I know you not fucking threatening me.” He steps forward, Solo reaching to restrain his older brother. “Man, I’ll knock your ass out!”

Matteo smiles. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Jey points to Roman, “you better get your fucking boy, Roman.”

Roman couldn’t care too much about that. “Tell your fucking dad to keep his hands off my wife.”

“Man, you overreacting! He ain’t even touch her!”

Roman growls, “just because you don’t give a fuck about your bitch of a wife—”

“What the hell you just say?” At that, Jey’s very paltry sense of resolve breaks. “I told you, you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife, or we gon have problems!”

Roman goes to move toward Jey, never ever scared when both Matteo and Dwayne go to restrain him. “If you gon do something, do it!” It takes a great amount of strength from both men to hold back an irate, borderline unhinged Roman. “I’ll whoop you and your daddy’s ass, and if Solo keeps looking at me like he’s lost his goddamn mind, I’ll kick his ass too!”

“That’s enough!” Jimmy finally cuts in, also going to restrain Jey, standing between an almost standoff. Rikishi, Solo, and Jey vs Roman, Dwayne, and Matteo. “Everybody just needs to calm down!”

“Your anger is misplaced, Uce.” Rikishi sounds, Dwayne still holding onto Roman’s arm while Matteo has loosened his grip in favor of focusing on the other three, waiting to see if they’ll do something. “Especially considering I was the one who tried to plead on your behalf just this morning,” he taunts almost, as if trying to get under Roman's skin even further. 

And, it partially works. 

Roman doesn’t need anyone to do shit for him.

“Plead for what?” Dwayne is the one to ask, recognizing verbalizations are a much better alternative to the physical melee that’s on the horizon if de-escalation doesn’t start. And fast. 

Rikishi straightens up, adjusting his tie, almost as if he’s trying to act like his life didn’t just end suddenly and violently. “The Elders have grown tired of waiting for the Tribal Chief to produce an heir.” Dwayne tightens his grip ever so slightly, feeling Roman try to inch away from him. “You and your wife are to conceive by the end of the year….or else.”

It’s almost an instant thing, several sets of eyes all on Roman, most of which trying to anticipate and navigate his next move.

Meanwhile, Roman’s mouth shifts, his nose snarled as he finds himself shouting, Dwayne again having to hold him back from lunging. “Or else what!”

Rikishi’s voice is eerily calm as he answers in an even voice, “they will make you divorce Solana and take a new wife of their choosing this time.”

————

There’s an emptiness she feels sitting in the patient room, waiting for the nurse to walk in. Roman’s absence is noticeable and heavy, and she hates it. Hates that this is yet another thing that she has to keep from him.

That she’s chosen to keep from him, because at this point, these are choices she’s making. 

She chose to not tell him about her potentially being pregnant. Chose to not tell him once the pregnancy was confirmed. And chose to still not tell him even as she sits at her first OB-GYN appointment.

And yes, all of that may be for good reasons, for her wanting to protect and be mindful of where he is mentally and emotionally.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that it sucks.

And that it hurts.

It hurts a lot. 

Following a small knock and opening of the door, Solana looks up from her lap and wipes away at her blurry gaze, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s just walked in. “Hello.”

She’s young, probably close to Solana’s age, her scrubs revealing a slim, lithe figure. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders and frames her features nicely. She’s a stunning woman. 

A woman, however, who fails to reciprocate Solana’s kind gesture. Not right away, at least. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she greets, “Mrs. Reigns. I didn’t—they didn’t tell me it was you…..give me just one minute?” The nurse doesn’t wait for a reply, just leaves a confused Solana sitting in the patient room wondering just what the hell is going on.

She’s just about ready to step out into the hallway when the nurse returns, quietly closing the door behind her. “I’m so sorry.” 

Solana has to ask, nails nervously tapping against the bed. “Is….is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she answers. Quickly. Too quickly. “Shit, no.” Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she walks over to Solana and offers one of the wildest introductions ever. “My name is Sasha, and I know you don’t know me, and I’m probably crazy as hell for even telling you this, but I—I used to sleep with your husband.”

Solana’s shoulders slump at the same time her chest tightens. “W–what?”

Sasha’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head and explains. “It’s been months. Like not since the beginning of this year, but I—I was one of the ones…..” She presses her fingers to her temples. “God, this is so messed up. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I tried to see if another nurse could handle you, but everyone is busy and…..fuck.”

Fuck is most definitely the right world. Of all the places. Of all the nurses. Solana just so happens to get the one nurse who used to be one of her husband’s fuck buddies.

Go fucking figure.

“I haven’t spoken or done anything with him in months. I swear.” She then lifts her left hand to show off a beautiful engagement ring. “Funnily enough, this is actually my last week working here. My fiance—long story— and I are from the same town, and he just got a job back home, so we’re moving next week.” She adds in a bitter tone, “kinda wish it was this week now.”

With the absence of Solana’s voice, Sasha proceeds to fill the silence. “Mrs. Reigns, I really am sorry. I know I had no business still sleeping with your husband after you two got married, but we’d been….intimate on and off for years, and he was just someone—”

“Please,” Solana finally speaks, voice low and soft. “Please don’t. I—I get it.”

Because with the shock worn off and the discomfort waning, as irritating as this is, it doesn’t necessarily matter. 

This Sasha woman was Roman’s past. Solana knows that she’s his present and future, so from that logic, what reason does she have to be upset?

At least with Sasha.

She does, however, have a reason to be nervous.

Hand naturally falling to her stomach, she says in a much more desperate voice than she’d like, “you can’t tell anyone—”

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widen once more as she shakes her head. “Outing the Tribal Chief’s wife’s pregnancy is a sure way for me to go missing, and I’d actually like to make it down the aisle.” Sasha visibly tenses, suddenly asking in a lowered voice. “Wait, is he he—”

“No.” That’s it. That’s the only answer Solana can bring herself to give. And it seems enough, Sasha nodding before the two settle into an awkward silence.

“Is it okay if…..if we get started?”

Solana nods, still a bit boggled by the whole situation but recognizing that it’s not the priority. 

“Of course,” she agrees. 

All things considered, Sasha is the epitome of professionalism. She asks her questions, takes down the information given to her, draws Solana’s blood and directs her to the bathroom where the pregnant woman gives a urine sample, all while maintaining a calm, friendly disposition.

There’s nothing, surprisingly, awkward about it. 

And that’s appreciated. Shocking, too, given who she is and who she was to Roman. 

It’s only when she’s wrapping up her portion that she clears her throat again. “I hope this doesn’t come across as an inappropriate question and feel free to tell me to mind my damn business, but can I ask why Roman isn’t here?”

Solana is tempted, almost ready to take Sasha up on her suggestion to tell her to mind her own damn business, but there’s something so genuine about her question. A sadness in her voice and sympathetic look in her eyes. It seems to come from a place of genuine concern. 

Solana finds herself answering honestly. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Sasha makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should have never asked. It’s just….with how much he must care about you—”

“What makes you say that?” Solana knows the words to be true. Knows that Roman cares about her. Loves her. But how and why the woman in front of her knows this is what makes her slightly suspicious.

Sasha sighs, answering almost nervously, “a man like Roman Reigns doesn’t just cut off his entire roster of women in exchange for one if she doesn’t mean something to him.” She shrugs, adding on, “and I mean, look at what he did to Sam’s uppity ass.”

If not for the confusion, Solana would maybe chuckled a bit. She’s not heard one good thing about Sam from a single person. Not one. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you didn’t hear?” Sasha sucks her teeth, smiling a bit. “He had Nia whoop her ass. Well deserved, in my opinion.”

Solana gasps. “What?”

“Yup,” Sasha pops the ‘p.’ “Had her break that bitch jaw.”

Solana sits there stunned, briefly struggling to understand the reasons why only for it to come to her so easily.

The night of the fight. 

Sam’s cruel words to her in the bathroom. 

Solana told Roman. Roman said he’d handle it.

Clearly, that was how it was handled. 

“You be careful with that one though,” Sasha advises, expression shifting to something a bit serious. “She was always delusional believing Roman was gonna marry her ass. And a couple weeks ago, I saw her drunk in a bar lamenting about how much she hates you and can’t wait to—her words, not mine—give you exactly what you deserve.”

The words should bother her. Maybe even trigger a sense of concern. Solana recognizes that would be a normal reaction, especially given the world that they live in. However, concern and even fear are not the emotions that rise at Sasha’s information.

Anger.

Anger is the only thing she feels. 

Solana isn’t the same woman Sam cornered in the bathroom and talked down to.

She’s changed. Grown. Is better in so many ways and stronger in so many more.

So, Sam can try some shit if she wants to.

Solana is ready this time. 

“I’m not scared of her,” is all she says, hand falling protectively to her stomach. 

“I can see that,” Sasha says with a small smile, tapping on the screen a couple more times. “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Dr. Sharmell will take over the rest.” She pauses. “Like I said, this is my last week here, so Alexa or Jakara will probably be your nurse moving forward, but I just wanna say congratulations. You seem like you’re gonna be a great mom.”

Eyes watering, Solana can only mumble a quiet, heartfelt, “thank you.” 

Sasha doesn’t say anything else before walking out the room, leaving Solana alone for not even five minutes before there’s a knock on the door followed by an entrance.

“Mrs. Reigns?” An African-American woman with smooth brown skin, a wrinkle free complexion and pearly whites. Her smile is amenable and her disposition warm. She walks over, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sharmell. I’ll be your OB-GYN. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Solana can only reciprocate the smile and gesture, shaking the older woman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s—it’s nice to meet you too. You….you can call me Solana.”

She looks a bit taken back but nods. “Solana, it is.” Moving over to the screen, she double checks a couple things that Sasha had already asked. Asks a couple more questions, mostly regarding if there’s been any concerns regarding the pregnancy thus far. The answer is no.

Solana prays it stays that way.

“Okay, well, I see you had a pap smear at the beginning of the year, so I won’t do one of those again. The labs I ordered are standard procedure just to make sure your levels are good, and from what I can see based off your hCG levels, it does look like this is a multiples pregnancy.” Solana has no major reaction to this, as it was already hinted/told to her by Dr. Michaels. “But, let’s do an ultrasound and double check, okay?” She gives Solana a look that’s of a questioning nature, like she wants to make sure this is an okay trajectory.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she answers in a quiet voice.

However, it’s when Dr. Sharmell starts to move the machine around that Solana notices something that zaps the comfort and calmness she was experiencing up until his point. “Wait, is that—do we have to do a transvaginal ultrasound?”

Just saying it aloud makes her stomach twist in all of the wrong ways.

Dr. Sharmell nods. “Based upon the date of your last menstrual cycle, you should be right at 10 weeks, and internal ultrasounds are best practices for pregnant women still in their first trimester.” Solana’s discomfort must be written all over her face, prompting the older woman to ask, “are you okay?”

Sniffling, Solana wipes at her now tearing eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly sharing, “I was raped as a child and…..I just….things down there…..”

And this is why Solana would give anything to have Roman here with her, because she knows his presence, holding his hand, having him here reassuring her that she’s safe would help her be able to tolerate the exam.

But, he’s not here, and the thought of being penetrated, even if for medical reasons, is something that has her heart racing and anxiety spiking. 

Dr. Sharmell is nothing but sympathetic as her face morphs into something almost solemn. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She shakes her head. “I can do a pelvic one instead. It may not show everything, but it’ll show enough for now. Okay?”

Solana can only nod and close her eyes as Dr.Sharmell shifts gears, handing her a sheet to cover up her lower half. Solana then proceeds to raise up the hospital gown to expose her belly. The gel is cool, a nice, chilling sensation to help settle her nerves. But, it’s when the doctor makes a sound that she opens her eyes and shifts her focus to the screen. 

“I was right.” She shoots Solana a small, comforting smile. “Twins.” Eyes continuing to water, Solana looks in awe as Dr. Sharmell points to the screen. “This is Baby A.” Her finger travels around as does the transducer roaming her belly. “And this is Baby B.” 

So early on in her pregnancy, it’s hard to make out anything significant like arms, legs, and a head, because none of those have developed just yet. However, none of that matters, because they’re still her babies.

Her children. 

Confirmation that they’re alive, growing, and healthy.

It makes the tears spill over, the emotionality of it all overwhelming her in a sense. 

He should be here.

Roman should be here, experiencing this with her. 

But he’s not.

And all she can seem to think about is how this is wrong. 

All so wrong. 

————

It’s not a good time to be doing this.

Not in the slightest. Roman knows this, has the wherewithal to see and know that he’s not in the best place to even try to be open to something he doesn’t even want to be doing in the first place.

But, he also knows that he needs to. That he needs to do this. Whether he wants to or not. 

It’s not about him.

It’s about her.

It’s about doing what’s best for their marriage, and truthfully, if she can find it in her to do it, then so can he.

Marriage…..

Roman’s fist forms at his side as he rolls his shoulders while trying to settle the anger growing again at Rikishi’s words he has no doubt came directly from the Elders.

There’s also lingering feelings towards Jey and Solo, toward their disrespectful, borderline challenging behavior. Unacceptable on all fronts, thus he regrets nothing except maybe not reminding them both why they answer to him and call him Tribal Chief.

However, that’s minimal compared to Rikishi and his actions both today and toward Solana.  

But, while a part of him wants to believe that the son of a bitch was just trying to fuck with him with his statement about the Elders, a result of his anger and pride at being attacked, the logical part of Roman knows that’s not the case.

He knows Rikishi isn’t lying about that much.

It makes sense. Roman sensed there was some shit they were planning before Fetu had passed. Sensed that they were up to something, and this is clearly it.

It’s not going to happen though.

It’s one thing for Roman to reconsider ending his marriage to Solana for her own safety. It’s another for those prehistoric fuckers to try to tell him he needs to end his marriage to her.

Over his dead fucking body will that ever happen.

Roman will kill them all before he lets them take her from him.

Murder is obviously the last resort. Maybe. But as of right now, he hasn’t got another plan. A less violent way to handle this, but he’ll figure it out. 

He always does.

Even though the solution is rather simple, something that is very much a possibility now that their marriage has been consummated. 

Many times.

Many….many times. 

And in full transparency…..Roman had started to wonder. Her sickness. The fatigue. The vomiting. 

Started to wonder if maybe, just maybe…..

And then he pushed it away. Has pushed it away, because stress would also explain all of that as well. But beyond that, he knows that if it was that, Solana would have said something. 

And, she hasn’t, thus it’s not even worth thinking about further. 

So, until then, he’ll come up with a plan.

But, not right now. 

Now he’s got a whole other issue he’s sort of—not really—ready to tackle.

Because Roman’s already paper thin patience is waning by the second every time he glances at the clock on his phone to see another minute pass. Three. She’s three minutes late. And for some people, that would be insignificant, but not for Roman. Because every minute of the day is precious for him, spoken and accounted for with tasks to be completed.

So every minute wasted waiting on her is deducted from the total time he has in a day to get everything done, thus, he’s already got one strike against this woman before ever even meeting her.

Thankfully, a text from Solana manages to briefly pull him from his growing frustration and temptation to just leave.

Solana: You’re not getting back until late, right?

Roman: Yes. 

Roman: Why? You alright?

Solana: Yes. It’s just Bayley and Naomi are “making” me go with them to dinner tonight, but I don’t want to not be there when you get home….

Roman: Solana, go. I’ll be fine. 

Because he will. Emotionally, he still feels…..not great, but he doesn’t feel as numb and overwhelmed as he’s been the past few days. Even beyond that, his wife has been by his side this entire time, putting her own life on hold to focus and cater to him. And he’s grateful. Immensely. But, she needs to also focus on herself.

His feelings about Bayley and Naomi are still…..not the best, but he knows what they mean to Solana, and she needs this.

So, he wants her to have it.

Solana: Are you sure?

Roman: Positive

“Well, shit.” 

Roman looks up from his phone, instantly irritated because why the fuck is someone talking to him when he’s trying to text his wife?

And he’s even more annoyed at the sight of the red headed woman wearing jeans, boots, and a white short sleeved shirt that shows off the tattooed sleeve on her right arm. Bag over shoulder, cup of coffee in one hand, and keys in the other, she scoffs. “Yeah…..Gail wasn’t kidding when she said she had a challenging referral for me.” 

But, it’s when she speaks again that his scowl drops. Roman asks, “you the therapist?”

She shrugs, answering, “that’s what my clinical license says.” Turning away from him, she prompts, “come on. Sorry I’m late. People don’t know how to fucking drive.”

There’s a lot to process in this moment. The lateness. The almost unprofessional attire. The profanity. 

What in the hell did Gail sign him up for?

Nevertheless, Roman follows this woman into the office once she unlocks and opens the door. And again, another culture shock. His wife’s therapist office is the traditional cool tones, plants hanging near the window, some mental health shit on the wall and whatnot. And this….person still has that, but there’s nothing neutral and traditional about her setup. The sofa is red, a kaleidoscope of colors plastered everywhere from the rug to the pillows to even the tye-dye curtains that are pulled back with a bright green tie. And it’s the framed poster on the wall above the computer that reads, “feelings are weird and uncomfortable and shit’ that makes him chuckle.

One thing he can give her is that it’s nice to not have that…..therapy shit shoved down his throat.

Not when he’s already extremely uncomfortable with this whole thing.

“Make yourself at therapy home,” she encourages, going to hang her bag on the hook behind the now closed door. Roman sits down, still on edge but feeling less annoyed. “Name’s Lita, by the way. Not sure if Gayle mentioned it.”

“She didn’t,” he answers, watching how she walks over and plops down in her chair, grabbing her coffee off the desk where she’d placed it while getting the room set up.

“Well, it is,” she shrugs. Taking a sip, she then informs, “I’ll call you Roman.”

Instantly, the irritation is reappearing. “Did I say you could call me by my first name?”

Lita gives him a look, asking in an even voice, “do you seriously expect me to call you My Tribal Chief?” She chuckles at her almost mocking tone, mumbling before snagging another sip. “That’s not happening.”

Roman finds himself asking, both rhetorically and literally, “what the hell kind of therapist are you?”

Because while his only experience with this profession has been through Solana, through Gail and even Stratus, the differences are stark. These women are day compared to Lita’s night.

“The kind who works with people. Not titles.” Reaching to place her coffee on the small table beside her, she explains. “The Tribal Chief is what you are. It’s not who you are. Who you are is Roman Reigns, and that’s who I’m interested in working with.” She gestures around her room. “In this space, you’re just a person, and something tells me that’s not a space you get to be in a lot in your life.”

He’s quiet. For a couple of reasons. The main one being that he’s having a bit of a hard time finding a point of disagreement. Her delivery is absurd, borderline disrespectful, but it’s not….it’s not entirely wrong. 

“So how’s this shit supposed to work?” He asks, allowing himself to lean back on the sofa, muscular arms crossed over one another.

Lita shrugs once more. “However you want it to work.” And before he can push back on her vague ass answer, she supplies, “my approach is I don’t make you do anything. I help you get to a point where you want to do things.”

“Like?” 

“Actually work on and process shit.”

“That’s probably not gonna happen.”

Lita chuckles, standing up and walking over to her desk. Roman watches her pull open a drawer where she grabs a notebook and pen. She then walks back over and reaches said items to him. “Here. Take these.”

Roman looks at her with disinterest but still accepts said items. “Alright, I want you to write down why you’re here right now. I’m not gonna see it, not gonna read it, not even gonna keep it. That’s for you. I just want you to be honest with yourself and preferably me, but we’ll get you there.”

Roman looks slightly confused but still understanding of what she’s asked of him. Lita grabs her coffee and falls back into the chair. “Get to writing.”

A scowl reappears. This demanding shit is gonna have to most definitely be addressed. 

Roman doesn’t get demanded.

Even though he most definitely finds himself writing shit down.

Control my anger/blackouts (around my wife—I don’t care about anyone else)

And that’s it.

“Done.”

Lita lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?”

She scoffs, “you head the two biggest criminal organizations in the world and only need less than a minute to list things you want to work on?” She shakes her head, directing,“try again.”

Roman is irritated. This smart mouth of hers is getting old. “I don’t need—”

“I said try again,” Lita says in an almost softer voice. “Remember, be honest with yourself.”

There’s something both triggering and eye-opening about that latter statement. Honesty is something Roman has always valued, but when it’s directed toward and about himself, there seems to be difficulty. 

Solana….she’s helped a lot with that, and he’d probably feel less hesitant and more forthcoming if it was her he was talking to, but as great a support system his wife is for him, he knows he can’t put it all on her.

The same way, deep down, he knows he can’t continue to bottle shit up like he’s been doing.

Roman swallows before starting to list without thinking, refusing to allow his brain to interfere with what weighs his heart down when he strips back all the thick layers of protection.

Feeling guilty about Fetu’s death

Feeling guilty about my family’s murders

Feeling guilty about surviving

Feeling guilty about Solana’s attempt

Feelings towards my mom

Feelings about fatherhood someday

Not feeling good enough for Solana

Feeling like I have to be perfect to be loved

Being codependent with Solana

Matteo

Other shit

Roman can list it, but that’s it. Talking about or even thinking about what he wrote down is just….it’s too much right now.

“Done,” he mutters, taking it upon himself to fold up said paper that he stuffs in his pocket. 

“Good.” Lita nods. Standing up once more, she moves over to a bin near the bookshelf, pulling out a red, familiar box. “Now let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Roman is disgusted all over again when she walks over, holding the biggest box of fucking Uno he’s ever seen. “Do I look like a child?”

“Technically, there’s a child in all of us,” she counters. Roman watches her pull the massive stack of cards out of the box. “Now this is actually feelings Uno.”

“Feelings Uno?” It keeps getting worse. So much worse. “What the hell is that?”

Rolling her eyes while she expertly manages to shuffle through the giant cards, Lita explains, “Red is anger. Blue is sadness. Yellow is joy. And Green is a free for all, meaning you get to decide whatever emotion you want it to be on your turn. You play a card and then talk about whatever emotion goes with the card color.” The steps are clear and to the point, but Roman is still struggling with the fact that this woman seriously wants to play a whole ass game with him. “Considering it’s only our first session, I’ll take it easy on you. You only have to answer when you play a red card.”  She smirks, equally distributing cards to the both of them. “Something tells me anger won’t be too difficult for you to talk about.”

She’s not….not entirely wrong. 

Roman asks while looking over at his colorful cards. “You stack?” Playing a game is truly preferred than talking about….feelings and shit.

“You trying to talk about several different upsetting events at once?” She asks, laughing a little when he rolls his eyes. “No. No stacking. This time.” Leaning over, she plops the first card down for their pile. “And to show you I can sometimes be one of those overly nice therapists, I’ll go first.” Roman watches her lay down a matching red card, sharing so casually, “well, I felt angry as hell when I came home from school when I was thirteen and found out my abusive, piece of shit dad had not only offed himself but took my mom and little brother with him.” 

Silence. Almost everything about this woman in the less than twenty minutes that he’s known her has been unexpected, but that has to take the cake. The casualty in her voice is a stark contest to the weight of the confession. It has him partially stumped, cause what the fuck does one say to that?

He goes with the only thing he knows and can think to say in the moment. “Why the hell would you tell me that?”

There’s a bit of a shift in her countenance. Her voice softens as she explains, “it’s important you know when we’re working together and I say that I understand life can be a shitshow, I’m not talking about fucking Starbucks messing up my order.”

He doesn’t comment on her disclosure nor her follow up comment. He just lays down his own red card, sharing, “felt angry at my mom when she told me one time that my half brother was the son she wanted, not me.”

Lita makes a sound. “Parents are just wonderful, aren’t they?”

Roman says nothing, the two of them easily falling into this space of sharing and not really elaborating. Just putting it out there, building some strange form of rapport that feels almost natural to him.

And it’s through this process that Gail’s comment regarding this whole therapy thing returns to him. “I have someone in mind who will either be a perfect fit for you or the worst referral I’ve ever provided.”

And strangely enough, Roman is leaning toward the former of those two paths.

————

Solana has always felt deeply aligned with the saying, “if it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” Always felt that perfectly described many of her life experiences. It’s something that’s waned drastically since being married to Roman but has still popped up from time to time.

And sadly, this is one of those times.

Because now not only is she sitting on a letter given to her by Roman’s late aunt that she requested only be given to him when the time was “right,” a pregnancy that now her husband’s ex fuck buddy knows about before him, but now another letter addressed to Solana.

From her mother.

A letter Solana has never seen before today when she was trying to reorganize her library/art room after Roman canceled their lunch date, citing being unable to escape meetings.

She believes him, of course. It’s just that it would have been preferred to this.

Yet one more thing for her to work through.

In all actuality, it should be easy for Solana to just open the damn letter. Read it and get it over with. But the weight of it, the amount of pages she can feel through the envelope, and the fact that it’s in a separate letter instead of a journal, has her concerned.

Solana’s mom always wrote to her in journals, so the fact that this is not in a journal…..it has her worried.

Which is why it remains untouched, laid out on the bathroom counter with Fetu’s letter along with the sonogram photo she received just earlier today. Both pulled from their respective hiding spots in her art room/home library.

Solana is trying to figure all this out while doing her makeup for dinner. A nice, necessary distraction as she spends a little extra time covering up the bruise. The darkness and hyperpigmentation have gone down tremendously, which she’s immensely grateful for. Especially given the fact that Roman hasn’t commented on it in a while. She knows he sees it, can see the slight cringe he still does at the sight,  but his guilt seems to have dwindled moderately, which is deeply appreciated.

Even if it’s because he’s battling a different type of grief now. And it’s staring at the envelope from Fetu that Solana allows herself to really think about if the right time is now. It would be so easy to just give it to him, to not have to have that weight on her shoulders. And maybe she should have done it sooner, done it during his week of depression and dissociation.

But, she was just so worried that it could somehow make things worse. That it was too soon. 

And, it still feels too soon. Solana isn’t entirely sure what the right time is…..but, it doesn’t feel like now.

Maybe….maybe in another week or so. Besides, Fetu trusted her to give Roman the letter, so the older woman must have trusted her judgment….right?

What is and has been the right time for some time now, however, is this pregnancy. Solana can’t keep hiding this from him. He deserves to know. He always deserved to know, and while her intentions were always good, that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s in the wrong.

She needs to tell him.

And, she will.

Tonight.

It still doesn’t sit right with her to spring this on him while he’s still trying to process such a massive loss. But, it’s even more not right to tell his doctor, to attend these appointments, to be ten weeks along, almost three months along and him still be in the dark.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t deserve that.

And as if on cue, her phone dings with a text from the man of the hour himself.

Roman: I love you

Such simple words that put the biggest, deepest smile on her face. She is quick to respond with reciprocation.

Solana: I love you, too. ❤️

Solana: Everything alright?

She taps her nails against the phone screen, staring at the three dots as he types.

Roman: Yeah.

Roman: Just wanted to say it.

And a sigh of awe leaves her, imagining him saying as such instead of texting it. A softness in his voice and gaze reserved only for her. 

Solana: Well, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. ☺️

Solana: I’m getting ready to head out.

Roman: Okay. Text me when you get there.

Solana: Will do.

Feeling slightly better at having some sense of direction moving forward as well as an unexpected, sweet exchange with her husband, Solana sends a text to Bayley and Naomi to let them know she’s on her way. Eyes glued to the phone, she isn’t paying much or enough attention to the fact that two items slide off the counter and onto the floor as she grabs a single envelope.

Bautista serves as her guard again, not that she has any issue with that. Solo is fine, has been fine, for the most part, since his apology at the gala, but Bautista….there’s something different about him.

Despite his intimidating, frightening presence, there’s a warmth in the older man that vastly contrasts Solo’s coldness. Not to mention his sage words regarding just who she is and the power that title gives her has truly been groundbreaking. It’s something she plans to never forget.

The drive leans on the side of shorter rather than longer, Solana walking into the restaurant, being escorted to the back where Bayley and Naomi wait. As soon as their eyes are on her, they’re standing up, each pulling her in for hugs.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Naomi whispers in her ear, followed by Bayley’s hug as she straight up asks, “Solana, what the hell has been going on?”

But, it’s only after the waitress comes, takes their orders, and she texts Roman that she’s arrived that the words start to spill out. 

A heavy sigh leaves the mouth of the Tribal Chief’s wife as she sits down in the chair, placing her purse in the other empty chair. A quick glance to the left reveals Bautista sitting at a nearby table. Not too close but close enough where he could act if something were to go down.

“I know….I know I’ve been distant.” Distant seems like not a strong enough word, but it’s the best she’s got in this moment. “And, I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying ya’ll. That wasn’t my intention. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“Like what?” Naomi presses. “Solana, we don’t want to overstep, but the last time we’ve seen you was at training where you had a black eye. That was over two weeks ago with intermittent contact since. You’ve gotta give us something here.”

And Solana knows this. Knows that both of the women sitting across from her only mean well. From day one, they’ve been nothing but kind and supportive. Have only sought to help her as she reclaimed her voice and her life.

She owes them that much.

“I’m gonna tell you guys something, but you can’t say anything to anyone. Not a soul.” She focuses on Naomi. “Not even Jimmy.”

Bayley nods immediately. “Of course.” 

Naomi seems a bit reluctant. “I don’t like keeping things from my husband,” she admits. And Solana can’t and won’t fault her for that. “But, I can see this is important to you, so you have my word. I won’t say a thing.”

And Solana trusts it.

Trusts them.

Closing her eyes, she starts to answer, “Roman had…..he had a nightmare the night of his fight with Drew. Drew said something to him, and it messed with his head. I won’t say what. It’s not my place.” Because it isn’t. Nor is it relevant to the conversation at hand. “It was a bad nightmare, and I was trying to wake him up and when I finally did, he woke up swinging and accidentally hit me. He had no idea what he was doing, and he felt awful afterwards. He even…..he even compared himself to my dad and brother.”

The shocked expressions on their faces match the disgust Solana feels at Roman even being in the same sentence as those two men, let alone the same category.

“So yes, he did technically hit me, but it wasn’t intentional.” Solana finds herself adding, “and that’s why I got so upset, because for all that Roman is and can be, I was frustrated that you guys believed he could ever do something like that to me.”

“You’re right,” Bayley sighs, shaking her head. “I think we just saw the black eye and assumed it was because of what happened with Drew…..” She stops herself, correcting. “It was wrong though, and I’m sorry.”

“We both are,” Naomi agrees. “But, not for worrying about you.”

“Never that,” Bayley chuckles, lifting up her phone with a small smirk. “You’ve had the newbies hitting us up nonstop wondering if we’ve heard from you.”

“Girl, got us all in a group chat and everything called SOSlana.” Naomi proves this by pulling up her phone and sharing her screen where Solana can sure enough see the name of the group chat.

It makes her laugh. A much needed thing. “I know I need to catch up with them too, but ya’ll deserved to speak with me first.” Cause as amazing as Melina, Cam, and Mickie have been, Bayley and Naomi were there first.

The loyalty goes a lot deeper.

“Maybe we can reschedule the girls trip for all of us. Like in two weeks?” Bayley suggests. A glance at Naomi provides a nod of agreement. “Solana?”

Hesitation. On one hand, she’d like to say yes, but on the other, she just doesn’t know. Because something tells her when she tells Roman about the pregnancy tonight, he’s about to be a hell of a lot stricter regarding her outings. And she understands it fully. Understands why her being the pregnant wife of the Tribal Chief means a different layer of protectiveness.

“Let me run it by Roman first,” she finally answers. “He’s….he’s going through something right now, and I need to be there for him.” Not a lie. The absolute truth. 

“Yeah, Jimmy’s been acting kind of off too. I think something’s going on with the Bloodline.” She shakes her head and transitions into elaboration. “Just earlier today, I overheard him arguing with his brothers and dad.”

“Which brothers?” Bayley beats Solana to the punch by asking a very valid question.

“Jey and Solo,” Naomi answers. Solana does her best to maintain a neutral expression, but it’s hard. There’s something almost unsettling about that, though she can’t put her finger on the why. “It didn’t go well. They all ended up basically marching out the house, slamming my doors and everything.”

Curious, Solana can’t stop herself from asking, “did Jimmy tell you what the argument was about?”

A pause. A noticeable pause. “Not really. I’m sure they’ll get it together though.” As Naomi takes a sip of her champagne, Solana does her best not to look or think too deeply about the obvious deflection.

To be fair, Solana is firm about her boundaries regarding certain things discussed between herself and her husband. 

Why can’t Naomi get the same grace? 

Solana is grateful for the arrival of the food, appreciative of the diversion of topics, because Naomi is certainly right. Something is most definitely going on with the Bloodline. A major loss that’s mostly impacted Roman but Jimmy and Jey as well, most likely.

But, Solana can’t and won’t comment on that.

Providing her girls with some insight regarding a bit of what’s been going on is a nice distraction for Solana. Laughter is always good for the soul, and being around her sisters never ceases to bring about a healthy amount of that.

The merriment makes it hard for her to not imagine what their reaction will be to finding out she’s pregnant. The way they’ll absolutely gloat and squeal, especially when they learn that she’s having twins. The baby shower that they’ll plan is destined to be one for the ages. 

And she looks forward to it all. 

But first….. first she must talk to her husband. 

It’s about an hour into dinner when Solana feels her bladder screaming at her to be emptied. “I’ll be right back,” she excuses herself, taking her purse with her for good measure. Mouthing bathroom to Bautista, Solana makes her way to the back, pleased to see that the stalls are all empty. 

There’s such a weird relief at no longer having that pressured feeling, expelling her bladder like she didn’t use the bathroom shortly before leaving the house. 

Frequent urination.

It’s one of the symptoms Dr. Sharmell mentioned she might start seeing soon at this point in her pregnancy.

She wasn’t wrong. 

Flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink, Solana attempts to toss her purse on the counter only for it to go tumbling to the floor, some of the contents falling out. Cursing quietly, she washes her hands first before bending down to stuff the items back in her bag, grateful her phone wasn’t one of the tumbled objects. However, it’s something else that manages to capture her full attention. 

The envelope with her name written on the outside.

Slow hands reach for it, trembling fingers tracing over her name so beautifully signed, her mother’s penmanship something worthy of all the jealousy. But, jealousy isn’t what Solana is feeling in this moment. 

Curiosity is.

A growing feeling gnawing at her that whatever is contained within this envelope needs to be unveiled and read. Needs to be freed after so many years of confinement. And, it makes no sense how Solana went from avoiding doing such a thing to readying to do it in the public restroom at a restaurant.

She knows it’s not the best decision, that it’s bound to make her emotional, make her cry. 

And yet…..the right timing.

Roman is grieving and about to find out that he’s a father. There’s so many layered, complex emotions in that alone that she’s truly lost as to how he’s supposed to manage that and helping her sort through whatever emotions will follow the reading of this letter. It also seems unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with so much.

But Bayley and Naomi…..they could. They could be her sources of support. They’ve been wanting to be said sources, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time to take them up on that offer.

Solana releases a deep, shaky breath while rising to her feet, taking her purse off the floor with her. Walking over to the door, she turns the lock and moves back over to the counter. Leaning back against the counter, Solana takes one more efficient breath before still trembling fingers carefully pry open the letter. Solana unfolds several sheets of paper.

And she begins to read. 

My Dearest Solana,

If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer living. I wish with everything in me that is not the case, and everything will go according to plan, so that what I am about to write will be told to you from my lips instead of read from this letter.

But, I cannot be naive. I must be realistic and prepare for all outcomes.

Solana, what I am about to tell you is going to be difficult, and you may never forgive me, may even hate me, but please know I never ever intended to hurt you, my sweet girl.

I was 23 years old when I met “Xavier Miller”. He claimed to be in Mexico on sabbatical from work. Said he was a “businessman.” I believed him. I believed everything he told me. All the false hopes he put in my head about bringing me to America and helping me get into medical school so I could become a doctor. Believed him when he said once we got settled, he’d pay for my parents to get passports so that they could visit. I believed it all. He was charming and handsome and kind, and I wanted so deeply to be in love that I fell for it all. 

After three months of us knowing each other, he proposed. I said yes. My parents did not agree. They believed we were rushing things. They were right, but I was too naive. I listened to my heart and only my heart. I fell in love with this man who promised me the world, promised to always love and take care of me. 

I spoke very little English, but he promised to help me learn once we moved to the States. He was adamant about me coming to America with him, said it would open up more doors, specifically helping me achieve my dream of being a doctor. 

And, I was determined, so I married him and came to America.

The decision will forever haunt me.

Our first night as “husband” and “wife” was the first time he raped and beat me. I woke up the next morning bruised and bloody. It was only then I saw the real him for the first time. He told me I would never see my family again, and if I ever tried to contact them or leave him, he would kill me. That same morning is when he informed me of who he really was.

A mafia man.

And right then and there, I knew my life was over.

I will not further traumatize you with details. But, it was...horrific. 

I thought once I gave him a son, which is what he eventually told me he what wanted from the very beginning—a “stupid woman” he could “control” and “breed”--- that he would lessen his cruelty. And, he did, to some extent. 

He allowed me to start volunteering at the hospital, which was truly only because he wanted me away from Wes. He said I would make him “soft.” The same hurtful thing he says about you. 

But, this ended up changing my life, because it was through volunteering that I met someone. His name was Darnell, and he was a medical student doing clinical rotations. Again, I do not wish to sully you with the details, so I will just say it.

I started an affair with Darnell, and I regret nothing, Solana. He was the first man I ever really loved who showed me what it meant to truly be loved by a man. It was dangerous for both of us, and I tried to break it off, tried to tell him what could happen if we were ever caught, but he didn’t care. He wanted to help me find a way out, because he loved me, and I loved him.

But then everything changed when I found out I was pregnant. Initially, I was distraught. Xavier was still raping me, trying to get me pregnant, and the thought of having his child again sickened me.

But, when I went to my appointment and learned how far along I was, I realized that the time I conceived was when Xavier was away on a business trip.

He wasn’t the father.

Darnell was.

And, I was so happy, so overjoyed, my love. You have no idea. 

Throughout the pregnancy, Darnell and I tried to come up with plans. Tried to figure out a way we could escape. Me, Him, Wes, and our babies.

I was pregnant with twins.

But, the closer the time came, the more fearful I became that even if we somehow escaped, Xavier would find us and kill us all. He always threatened to kill me if I tried to take Wes from him. 

So the plan changed to one that broke my heart and Darnell’s, but we agreed it was the safest thing for us to do. We were able to have some of the hospital staff assist us with this plan, which made a world of difference.

It truly did.

When I gave birth to you, I gave birth to your twin brother as well. A brother who Darnell took, while I kept you. And, I told Xavier, who did not come to the hospital until the next day, that my boy didn’t make it. 

He was livid. So angry that he forced the hospital to give me a hysterectomy.

He said I would not “fail” him again.

The plan was for me to wait until you were older, at least one, and then we would try to make the move, but what I didn’t expect was for Xavier’s cruelty towards me to increase. He became significantly worse to the point where it was impossible for me to do anything without him knowing. He refused to allow me to volunteer at the hospital, which cut me off from all the people who were going to help me reunite with Darnell and my other child.

And instead made my life even more of a living hell, but now he was subjecting you to the same treatment.

He always blamed you for the “death” of your brother. That’s why he’s always hated and resented you. Because you “lived” and the boy “did not.” He never wanted daughters. Only sons. 

Solana, I know this is a lot. I know that I am putting so much on you, and I am so sorry, my love. There is just so much you need and deserve to know, and I just have to make sure you know one way or another.

It was selfish of me to keep you. I should have let Darnell take the both of you, but I always wanted a daughter. Wanted to have a piece of him with me as well. But, my selfishness subjected you to all kinds of horror, and I’m so so sorry, mija. 

But, Darnell is your father. And, you have a twin brother. And if all goes to plan tomorrow, you, me, Wes, your real father and your other brother will finally be able to be a family. You’ll have the family you always deserved but I deprived you from.

And words cannot express how sorry I am, my sweet Sol. Because the fact of the matter is that I was being selfish. It was selfish and wrong of me to not let you go with your father, to keep you in an abusive household with an abusive man.

It was wrong, and I am sorry.

But…

In the event something goes wrong, I just needed you to know the truth. Because if something happens to me, I need to make sure you at least know where you really come from.

And that’s not Nina Miller and Xavier Miller. 

It’s Darnell Adams and Alma Escobar.

My name is not Nina.

It’s Alma.

Alma Escobar. 

Xavier made me change my identity when I came here to avoid my family finding me. And, it worked, because Xavier also lied about his name when we first met. He made it up. It was all a part of his plan to get me in America and make me his slave. 

It’s why my family was probably never able to find me. They were looking up one name that never existed and another name that would never exist again.

But, that brings me to my next part. 

My mother’s name is Paloma Escobar, and my father’s name is Ricardo Escobar. I have two uncles: Bernardo and Tomas.

If I have the chance and this plan works, I will finally take you and your brothers to Isla Mujeres to meet your family. You deserve that much and so much more. 

Again, this is so so much to drop on you, mija, but I don’t have much time. 

Solana, that is why I have always called you “my Sol.” Because phonetically, Sol sounds like “soul,” which is what my real name really means. YOU are my soul and an extension of myself, just infinitely better.

Never forget, my amazing girl, that you are smart and beautiful and kind and have such a pure soul. You must never forget any of that.

And one day, you are going to grow into a beautiful young woman, find a kind young man who loves and treats you the way you deserve, and you will be an amazing mother. 

And that, my love, will be your happy ending.

I pray to God that I will live to see all of this, be around for all of it, but if I am not, know that I loved you infinitely in this life and will continue to love you infinitely in the next.

Forever your Hummingbird,

Alma 

Breathing.

A simple, easy thing that’s suddenly impossible for Solana. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t compute any of what she’s just read. Only one sentence of so many shell-shocking revelations circulates in her head, thudding against her consciousness.

Xavier wasn’t her father.

He wasn’t her father. 

There’s so many things embedded and included in this confession of sorts, but that’s the one thing Solana can’t seem to pull away from.

The man who was responsible for the murder of her mother and her attempted murder was not her real father.

The man who was responsible for her rape was not her real father.

The man who almost beat her to death and threatened to finish the job was not her real father. 

The man who she so desperately wanted to love her like fathers should love daughters but never could. And not just because he was incapable of love. No. It was because he wasn’t her real father.

Solana almost stumbles to the ground, one hand going behind her to hold onto the counter to keep her upright.

This….this was a mistake.

She should have never read this letter.  

Ever.

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, she releases the papers and places a hand over her chest, closing her eyes, and working to regulate herself. She manages to pull from the coping skills learned in therapy as she tries to find some anchor of sorts to keep her grounded instead of drowning in the panic that threatens to overtake her.

Too much.

It’s just too much to process.

Too much to sit on. 

She just can’t.

Solana is sniffling, silent tears running down her face as she places her other free hand on her belly. She can’t fall apart. Not right now. Not like this. And not with the babies growing in her belly. 

They need her to pull it together. To be strong. 

Needing a reminder of sorts, she digs through her purse with wobbly hands for the photo that depicts the two tiny lives growing inside of her. 

There’s only one problem. 

The sonogram photo isn’t in her purse.

Solana’s glossy eyes scan the floor to see if she somehow missed it, only for that to come back a deadend given the emptiness of the pristine tile. 

Solana frantically digs through her purse once more realizing the photo isn’t the only thing missing.

So is Fetu’s letter.

And now yet another massive weight is dropped onto her chest with the terrifying realization of what she’s done.

“Oh no….” Trembling hands fold back up the sheets and stuff them back into the envelope that she shoves in her bag. Solana’s legs can’t move fast enough as she unlocks and rips the door open, making her way over to that table where Bayley and Naomi are laughing. 

It’s when their gaze lands on her, however, that the laughter dies down. “Solana, what’s—”

“I have to go,” she interrupts, unable and partially uninterested in offering the truth as to why. Because she can’t. She can barely fucking think straight right now, let alone try to explain the magnitude of what just happened.

What could happen if she doesn’t get home. 

Fast.

Bayley is the one to push. “Wait, Solana, you can’t just—”

“Please,” she begs, eyes watering. “It’s….it’s Roman. I have to get home.” Not a lie, just an answer that probably insinuates a severity that does not equate to the actuality of the situation. Or, maybe it does. “I’ll….I’ll explain later, but I have to go now.” 

Naomi and Bayley share a look, clearly not liking this sudden shift in energy, and Solana can’t blame them. However, she can’t focus on that right now. Not when her world has just been turned upside down.

“Okay,” Naomi concedes with a sigh, “but at least text us when you get home.”

“I will.” That much Solana can promise. Hopefully. “Thank you.” Both women only answer with a nod as Solana gestures to Bautista. “Come on.”

Wordlessly, he gets up and leads her out of the restaurant. 

Solana is a nervous wreck the entire drive home. Knee bouncing, heart racing, intermittent tears. This is not how she expected this day to go. It’s almost too unbelievable to be true.

There’s too many things for her to sit on and sift through. Her pregnancy. Fetu dying. Her mother’s letter. Now this?

Solana wipes at her eyes. It’s just all too much. And the fact that trying to call Roman only led to the phone ringing two times before going straight to voicemail only makes things infinitely worse.

Roman has never sent her to voicemail before. 

The drive to the mansion is really only a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels so much longer. Torturously longer.

The SUV is barely in park before she’s whipping the door open and running towards the house, heels in one hand because she can’t have any sort of interference. 

“Roman!” She calls out his name the minute she steps foot inside of their home only to be met with silence.

And for that brief second, there’s relief. A respite from all the heaviness as she rushes up the stairs, ready to grab the letter and photo off the bathroom counter to hide them again before he gets home.

Before he finds out the two major secrets she’s been sitting on without her being able to tell him herself.

But, that’s a short lived fantasy, one that’s killed the moment she’s standing in the doorway of their master bedroom.

“No….”

Solana drops her shoes at the sight of her husband sitting on the side of their bed, facing the door, papers in hand, a now opened envelope beside him along with a photo.

The sonogram.

Her heart breaks.

“Roman, I—”

“Solana.” 

Never.

 Never has she heard her name leave his mouth with such anger and disgust. The same anger and disgust that’s written all over his handsome face as he asks, point, blank, period, “what the hell is going on?”

[plethorawrites]

Would the Bat boys date someone older or younger?

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce Wayne: Younger. I feel like this man needs someone younger than him to balance out how old he sometimes feels. He likes how easy it is to impress you and how excited you get over his stories or the "simple" acts like a five star dinner or 12 course meal. He likes how bubbly and energetic you are because living in Gotham hasn't completely sucked the life out of you the way it has to most people his own age. The media isn't surprised to find out he's going out with someone in their mid to early 20's, it's honestly expected but only a few people realize how genuine it is. That it's not because of the thrill of being with someone half his age that makes him love being with you, it's the gratification of finding someone so much purer, who reminds him of what his mission is really about— keeping people like you safe.

---

Tim Drake: Older. He wouldn't necessarily seek it out, or reject anyone his own age, but those relationships would definitely fall apart because he always felt some kind of disconnect. He would gravitate towards someone of more maturity who would take care of him, who he could be the little spoon with and have his hair stroked by or his tie (when he had to wear one) straightened. He had been forced to grow up fast, and was naturally to someone 6 or 7 years older at least, if not more. He knows being seen with you would make a splash and going out to public would make things way worse, but he doesn't care if the media calls him a 'cub' nearly as much as it bothers him when they say he has 'mommy issues' of when they call you a 'cougar' for going out with him.

---

Dick Grayson: Either. He honestly doesn't care about age, he'll find a way to play it up either way. This man wants to lord over you the fact that he's older than you. He likes knowing he has more life experience than you and that he can take care of you. You just have to deal with him always claiming seniority. But! If you're older, that's fine too. He can't wait to be your arm candy, to tease you for going after someone younger and playfully call you a 'mature older partner.' When the media finds out, no one is surprised. No one so much as comments on the age difference because he's his father's son and dating someone with a 8 year age gap isn't unexpected

---

Jason Todd: Younger. If he had an older partner, he would feel babied and that already happened enough with his family. But someone a couple years younger, maybe by three or four makes him feel younger too. Like being with you gives him back the time that was stolen from him when he was dead. He likes how sweet and kind you are, how easy it is to make you laugh. He fears, sometimes, how dark the city is compared to you and tries his best to shield you from it. But you can handle a bit of darkness, when it's from him.

---

Damian Wayne: The same age. He would refuse anyone younger and couldn't stand anyone older. The same age. You need to be born in the same year as him, at least. Preferably with six months, just to make the difference as small as possible. He'll still want to technically be older, though, so in every argument he can mention it. You're at the same stage in life, he likes that you seem headed in the same direction, that you'll (eventually) grow old together and neither of you will be without the other for long since you'll probably pass away in a similar time frame too. He likes that nothing either of you say is outdated to the other and never will be. He likes that he doesn't have to teach you and doesn't feel like you're trying to teach him. You're simply learning about life together.

[arpicityandneed]

Give it Up Pt. 1

18+ Dark Content. f!reader. step brother!Bucky. college student reader.

~

Dear Diary, Is it bad that I had that dream again? Fuck its been going on for years but it still makes me wake up wet and aching to be ruined. Its always the same. He sneaks into my room to find me touching myself (I'm always touching myself before bed every night lets be real) and just locks the door before coming over to move my hand away. "No touching my pussy without permission, sis. Do I make myself fucking clear?" "Yes." Every time he teases me, circling my clit light enough that I can't cum. "Yes, what?" No matter how guilty it makes me it also makes me want to cum so hard. "I won't touch your pussy big brother."

"Bucky!! Mom said she found more gift wrap, you can leave it." Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin, tearing his gaze away from the raunchy words in your neat handwriting. You'd filled page after page and the diary was nearly full. You liked free use, roleplay where he blackmailed you into being his slut, humiliation play, anal.. the more he flipped through the pages the harder he got.

"Bucky!! Did you hear me?" You called again, sounding so sweet and innocent like you usually do. Except now he knew the truth.

Innocent my ass.

"Yeah sis, I heard ya!" He called back tucking the book back into its hiding place behind the towels in the hallway closet.

When he came back into the living room you were on your knees, arranging the presents under the tree and looking every inch like the casual college student. But now that he knew what was really going on in that head of yours? He couldn't stop looking for outward signs of your perversion.

"Something on my face?" You asked when you noticed your brother staring at you with a weird intensity.

All Bucky could think about was painting your face with his cum in response. He had to shake himself before he could smile somewhat normally.

"Nothing. So about the tree.."

~

He never caught you writing in the diary, but new pages kept showing up every few days when he checked the closet. So he started to plan. Because there was no way he was going to be able to rest, your words had invaded his dreams.

Every spare moment was spent jacking his cock until he blew his load all over his fist, thinking of you and your filthy fucking fantasies. You'd written that you were technically still a virgin since you didn't think all your toys counted. The thought of you fucking your own ass with a fake cock usually is what got Bucky off more often than not. It agonized him wondering which hole to fuck first. Because he knew your pussy would be heaven too. Had to be attached to such a wicked girl.

If he was going to be tormented by this then you were too.

It started small, little touches that you wouldn't bat an eye over. Hands on your hips to help you reach the top of the tree, tucking a curl behind your ear, a kiss to the top of the head.

But then he ramped it up, a hand a little too high on your thigh until you were squirming and making excuses to move. A slap to your ass with a joking grin and a distracting question to leave you flustered and flushed. Lingering a second too long after kissing your cheek before pulling away and acting like nothing happened.

It was slight, but he could see it now. The faraway look in your eye and the way your thighs clenched together every time. You were lost in your own head thinking something depraved and god he needed his hands on you for real.

~

Christmas Eve was the last straw. You had a party to go to, something with some asshole called Walker who Bucky didn't know but didn't like on principle. But when he saw how you were dressed? A deep green excuse of a dress wrapped around your body like it was molded to your curves, and stopped mid thigh. Your tits were nearly spilling out before you quickly covered up with a jacket when your mom came closer.

"I'll drive you." Bucky said close enough in earshot of your parents that your mom agreed instantly, just like he'd wanted.

"But mom, its a date, why would you do that to me?" You whined. But your mother just smiled brightly at you.

"Keep complaining I'll have him pick you up too." You groaned and glared at Bucky playfully, mumbling as you walked outside. "Lets go then."

~

Bucky's car smelt like him, and the leather seats seemed to hug you back. It was always too intimate for you and you hated that he was clearly enjoying himself.

"You didn't have to say it so damned loud. You know how she gets." You complained as he blasted the heat before starting to drive, just snorting at you.

"Who knows if this guy is even worthy of you sis? It's my job to protect that pretty little pussy of yours." He spoke casually, but the way his eyes cut to yours was boldly intentional before he turned his attention back to the road was hard to misunderstand. This was him making a move.

"Bucky! What- you can't just-" You spluttered completely caught off guard.

"Can't just what? Talk about your pussy? You talk about my dick enough in that black book you keep in the closet." And just like that you were throbbing between your legs from being caught, the embarrassment making your clit throb along to your heartbeat. All the previous teasing touches flooded your brain, and you groaned as you hung your head in embarrassment. Had you really not noticed the way he'd been hunting you?

"We're gonna make a quick stop before your party sis. Gotta give your gift." His words were a purr, and you would later deny you ever whimpered from his voice alone.

"You better not give it up to any guy but me unless I say its alright, you got that? Can't just have you spreading your legs for anyone I don't approve of. You're my little sister and its my job to protect you" He continued to give you the big brother lecture, twisted as it was. And as much as you hated it, since you knew the bastard was doing it on purpose just to highlight how taboo it was for you to want him, your mind was running wild and you were drenching your panties.

You should've been ashamed of yourself, but all you wanted was for him to pull over and fuck you over the hood of his car.

~

Steve's studio apartment was practically Bucky's as well and you knew this, but still the fact that your brother had a key turning the lock without even having to stop kissing you made you realize how often he was over here.

"So this is how you dress when you're not doing the innocent college sweetheart routine." He groaned as he palmed your ass cheek through your dress, his erection pressing into your hip with no remorse. "Might have to fight Walker if he sees you in it though."

"Don't care about him," you gasped as he kissed down your throat and sucked a hickey into your skin. Every touch of his made your desire burn brighter, driving you insane like his fingers had on the drive over tracing the slit of your pussy over and over without touching your clit.

"No, you're saving yourself f'me right?" He unzipped your dress slowly, like he was unwrapping a present. Your matching black bra and panties looked sinful on you.

"Bucky," you mumbled shyly as you tried to cover yourself.

"Don't hide from me. If we're gonna do this sis, you play by my rules." His voice was rough and husky but completely serious as he watched you. And your clit throbbed from his words, your hands falling to your sides as you let him look.

"Good girl." The praise made you wanna preen under his attention. "Now take it off. All of it."

You unhooked your bra easily, watching how Bucky's eyes were locked on your tits as soon as they were free. He twirled his finger when you reached for the band of your panties so you turned and let him see exactly how much he affected you as you bent over.

The weight of his gaze threatened to break you before he even laid on a hand on you. You heard his foot steps circling you as you straightened up, trembling with anticipation. Wondering where he would touch you first.

His arm snaked around your waist before pulling you closer, his mouth sucking hot kisses up your neck.

"B-Bucky," You moaned brokenly in his arms, clinging to him like you'd always wanted to.

"You have no idea what your little book did to my brain baby. Can't stop thinking about all the ways I can ruin you, especially now that I know how much you'll like it." Bucky started walking you to the bed, never letting you out of his arms as he bite and licked and marked your throat.

Then you were airborn with a squeak bouncing on Steve's bed as a tiny box bounced with you. It was wrapped with a bow and had your name on it. "Is this?"

"Open it." Bucky started to tug off his clothes, and you were torn between finally getting to see his cock and the present in your hands. But curiousity got the best of you and you opened it, the mistletoe with a tiny bell attached jingling as you lifted it out of the box.

"You hold onto that. Drop it or shake it if you need me to stop, or something happens that you don't like." Understanding dawned on you, even as it made you clench your thighs together. "Unless you drop it, I'm not stopping. Even if you beg for a break, or make me work for it. I'll fuck what's mine."

"Bucky.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, taking in everything he'd said as finally, he unbuckled the belt of his jeans.

You closed your fist around the mistletoe tightly.

"Knew you'd like that, perv."

a/n: This is getting way too long so I'm going to save the smut for pt 2. please comment and reblog!

[futuremrscameron]

angel!reader

content warnings: referenced child abuse, attempted murder, religious psychosis, delusions of grandeur, mentioned patricide, chronic migraines, blasphemy, violence, blood, religious symbolism, mentions of drug abuse, breeding kink, suicidal ideation, stabbing, violent thoughts, religious imagery, toxic relationship

angel!reader technically a pogue but she lives just outside of obx so she doesn’t fit into the category

angel!reader lives in a house house that’s decrepit and falling apart because she doesn’t wanna “forget the damage”

angel!reader grew up in a small southern town with her father who resented her for “killing” her mother

angel!reader saw church as her safe place because her father wasn’t there. he was usually too drunk from the previous night’s ventures to go + he hated god for taking his wife away from him

angel!reader suffers from chronic migraines. they started when she was five and she learned how to treat them herself so she wouldn’t have to ask her father for help. she tried that once and had to sit through hours of yelling about how she “killed his wife and had the nerve to talk about her pain”

angel!reader who would ask god for guidance on what to do about her father every day. she took actions into her own hands but she would prefer to believe that god steered her to those abandoned ropes argue the church and the gasoline canister from the station. she really only counted her father’s lighter being on his nightstand instead of in his pocket like it usually is as luck

angel!reader knew she was destined for great things when the town rallied around her after the death of her father, pies at her doors, praying for her, telling her their door was always open, and offering to help clean up the damage caused by the fire

angel!reader already knows about the cross because religious items

angel!reader who gives all her money to tithe and is constantly struggling to make ends meet when she meets rafe and barry

the two men went to the house after receiving information about a pastor that knew the whereabouts of the cross of santo domingo but like many leads it was a dead end. or so they thought. the pastor, after some convincing, gave them the address of a member of the congregation that had been worrisome lately but they all brushed it off as grief.

he told them about her whispers of crosses and how she was planning on leaving he small town to find it.

when they arrived at the small house they found was a sweet looking girl who invited them inside for tea and cookies. she invites them in, tells them to make themselves at home, and disappears into the kitchen to check on her cookies.

barry knows something’s up but rafe tells him to chill and goes to look around. he finds the burned bedroom and realizes barry was right. then he hear him scream, it’s a feral, pained scream that he’s never heard from barry.

he rushes back downstairs and sees the “harmless” girl raising a switchblade over her head ready to bring it down on barry. he shoots her.

she falls on her back, clutching her shoulder, mumbling a prayer as rafe checks on barry. the stab wound is deep, he needs aid now. rafe ties the girl up, holds her at gunpoint, and makes her clean and close barry’s wound until they can get back to obx

angel!reader uses alcohol, her father’s lighter, and her sewing needle to fix barry up. she convinces rafe to untie her so he can stop her bleeding. she walks him through he using the lighter and her switchblade to cauterize her gunshot wound

angel!reader is more or less kidnapped by rafe and barry after the incident. she’s scared of dying because she believes she’s going to hell for killing her father, rafe of course uses this to manipulate her

angel!reader hates the way rafe makes her feel, she sees him as a temptress who’s trying to take her godliness (he is but not in the way she thinks)

angel!reader does not get along with the pogues. she believes they're troublemakers who have no care for anyone but themselves. the only one she befriends is pope because he's kind to her and wants the cross for "selfless reasons"

angel!reader believes rafe when he tells her they're after the cross of santo domingo to get it back to its rightful place, with the heywards

angel!reader who frowns when barry says she’s got “big brown soulless eyes” because when they met she stabbed barry in the gut and all he could do as he bled out was look at her big brown eyes staring down at him with contempt

angel!reader who feels a type of way whenever rafe calls her 'angel'

angel!reader had a breakdown before during and after rafe melted the cross

she told him not to but he wouldn’t listen. he didn’t care about his soul being damned to hell, that’s how she knew he was the devil.

when she got there he was watching the fire consume the cross with glee in his eyes. barry stood a good distance away, taking a swig of beer and shaking his head in disbelief every couple seconds.

“how could you?” barry has the decency to look ashamed but rafe? he doesn’t even look at her, too entrances by the fire.

“you knew this was coming.”

“i told you not to.”

“you should know better than anyone else, when .”

were still setting up their makeshift furnace

angel!reader swears to get revenge on rafe and barry after because they've "desecrated the cross"

angel!reader becomes a genuine problem when she visits limbrey and gets information on rafe’s potential dealings. she plans on killing anyone who plans on buying the gold pieces

angel!reader is stopped by rafe when he finds her tailing him to his meet up with a client. they tussle for a bit, she pins him down but she can’t bring herself to kill him. she sobs into his chest and asks him why he did it, why he betrayed her, why he burned the cross. it’s a ‘come to god’ moment for him (no pun intended)

angel!reader misses her church back at home so she joins the congregation of obx’s church and quickly rises through the ranks and uses it for its community

angel!reader hangs out with barry even when rafe’s not around. barry may find her scary but it’s fun to listen to her read the bible while high and if she’s in a particularly good mood shit talk members of her congregation.

angel!reader keeps rafe on his toes with her perception of him, allowing him to be seen not as a devil but as a dimmed angel. the way she sees him makes him wanna keep her all to himself, he’s scared to fuck up now because he’s scared of losing one of the few people that he has left

—————————————————————————

i hope y’all liked this one, i’ve been working on it for a while and i’m excited to hear y’alls thoughts as always feedback, praise, and criticism is welcome (keep it classy though) <3

[sorinethemastermind]

 Sorvus Week 2024 | Prompt: Camp (No Warnings Apply)

   Soren didn’t get why he had to watch Callum. It was a few weeks out in the woods, and there would be other people to look after the prince (step-prince, Soren added sullenly). What was the worst that could happen? Plus, camp was his thing. He’d been looking forward to it all year. 

 Thinking back to the previous summer, he could still remember the sense of satisfaction he’d felt after beating one of the older boys in a sparring match. All the kids in his year had cheered, and afterwards one of the instructors had come up and said that he was proud of him. This was Soren’s thing. This was what he was good at. The one thing he was good at. 

 Why couldn’t his Dad see that?

 But Viren had asked him to watch Callum. Well, sort of. He’d told King Harrow that he would keep an eye on the young prince, and Soren had been there, so it was sort of like asking because he could have said no. Except he didn’t, because if his Dad needed him to do it, then of course he would.

 Just think of it like Crownguard training, Soren thought, hoisting his pack up a little higher as he led Callum down the trail towards camp. It’ll be good practice. 

 It wasn’t like the young prince seemed especially thrilled about it either. He wasn’t really the outdoorsy type. Which was being plainly illustrated by the fact that he was daintily making his way around the muddle puddle that blocked their path. Soren just stomped on through, enjoying the little waves that his steps kicked up. He wasn’t as big a fan of his soggy socks afterwards, but that couldn’t have been avoided. 

 “Soren, wait up!” Callum called, struggling to keep pace with his longer strides. Sometimes Soren forgot how small the other boy still was. He stopped for a moment to let his shorter legged companion catch up before forging ahead again.

 “Are we almost there?” Callum asked after a moment, still a few steps behind.

 “We’ve only been walking for like, five minutes." Soren pointed out. “Anyway, you’re the one who made us take that fancy carriage instead of just arriving with the rest of the kids.”

 “King Harrow wanted us to take the carriage.” The other boy corrected him.

 “Yeah, so you wouldn’t have to do the hike.”

 Yet another thing I won’t be doing this year because of stubby legs back there, Soren added in his mind.

 “And yet.” Callum managed, words coming in between huffing breaths. “It feels like we’re hiking right now.”

 “This is the shortest way I know.” Soren told him. Which was mostly true. Technically it was the second shortest way that he knew up the mountain, but Callum didn’t need to know that. It would only make him complain more.

 “Just… how long do you think it’ll be?”

 Soren turned to face the other boy, opening his mouth to say something about how it wouldn’t be taking this long if he would just hurry up - but Callum had his hands on his knees, cheeks puffing out with every breath.

 “Hand me your pack.” Soren said instead, holding out a hand. 

 “What?”

 “Your pack. I’ll carry it.”

 “But you’re already carrying one-”

 “I can manage.”

 Callum handed over the heavy bundle of camping equipment and Soren shouldered it alongside his own. 

 “Thanks, Soren.”

 He only felt a little guilty at Callum’s grateful smile.

 “Yeah, well, come on. Try and keep up.” he forged on ahead, Callum still trailing a few steps behind, but at least seeming less likely to topple backwards. 

 It was a solid twenty more minutes before they arrived at the camp. The sun was beginning to set as they trudged into the clearing that had been chosen for this year’s gathering, most of the other boys already having gathered to huddle around the great fire pit at it’s center. Soren started to make his way towards them, but was instead nearly swept over by the sudden flurry of activity that sprang to life around Callum.

 There must have been at least four attendants, brushing quickly past Soren to hover around the prince, offering clean clothes and refreshments. Soren wrinkled his nose, dropping Callum’s bag to the ground at his feet. One of his helpers would be able to find it, surely. None of them so much as gave him a second glance. 

 Stalking past the fire pit and the other campers, Soren found a spot at the edge of the forest and began erecting his tent. Nobody offered to help, he noticed. Though somebody was building Callum’s for him. Soren’s frown deepened and he hit the tent peg he was hammering with a little too much force, nearly splitting it. 

 “Drat.” he muttered under his breath, being more careful with his next strike. The familiar repetition of the process helped, and by the end of it, he was pretty sure he’d never been frustrated in the first place. Pretty sure.

 Still, he didn't really feel like joining the other boys for campfire stories, so instead crawled into his little shelter as soon as he’d finished setting it up. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep and listening to the quiet murmur of voices outside.

 “I heard the prince-”

 Soren rolled over, facing his back towards the fire and the assembled voices. But it didn’t stop them from drifting into the tent.

 “Do you think the prince-”

 He clapped his hands to his ears. What was so great about Callum, anyway? He hadn’t done anything special, hadn’t earned any of this attention. His Mom just married the King, and that was enough. He wasn’t even a real prince, Soren thought, bitterly. He was a step-prince.

 Eventually the voices outside quieted, along with Soren’s mind, and his eyes drifted closed. Callum isn’t going to ruin camp. He thought to himself, distantly. It’ll be just like last year. I’ll just need to do something bigger, work harder. It’ll be just like last year.

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 Something was scratching at the entrance of Callum’s tent. It had been for the last few minutes, snuffling around the edge. He could hear it through the walls.

 It’s probably a Banther, Callum thought, tucking his knees to his chest. It’s a Banther and it’s going to eat me.

 He didn’t know why King Harrow had made him come here. Was he really that much of a nuisance that he had to send him away for weeks, out to the middle of nowhere, with no one but Soren to help him? And where was Soren, anyway? Harrow had said that the older boy would be keeping an eye on him, and that had made Callum feel a bit better about the entire thing. But as soon as they’d arrived he’d vanished.

 The creature snuffled again, it’s shadow moving on the other side of the thin fabric of the tent. Callum was vividly aware of how fragile it was. Of how fragile he was. Will King Harrow care if I get eaten by a Banther?

 Don’t be silly, he amended. Of course he would care if I got eaten by a Banther. However, that won’t stop me from getting eaten by one.

 The snuffling thing pushed at the edge of the tent flap, and Callum scooted further away, gripping his satchel tightly and holding it out before him like a shield.

 “S- Stay back.” he managed. “I’m a very dangerous mage, and i- if you come in here, I’ll zap you!”

 Unfortunately the snuffling thing didn’t appear to speak Katolian. It stuck it’s head through the flap, and at the site of it’s intruding snout, Callum panicked; throwing his satchel at it with as much force as he could muster. But all he managed to do was blow the entrance to the tent open wider, revealing the form of his raccoon tormenter outside.

 “Ah!” Callum let out an involuntary scream, clapping his hands to his mouth and muffling the sound as much as he could. The last thing he wanted was to return home with all the other boys talking about how he was scared of a rodent. A rather large rodent, but still.

 The thing had scampered back when he threw his bag, but now crept forward again, pushing it with it’s nose. Callum reached tentatively towards the satchel’s strap, but the raccoon’s beady eyes flashed as it looked up at him, and he snatched his hand back. 

 “Shoo.” he whispered, kicking a foot in it’s direction. Not close enough to do anything, though. He pulled his leg back the moment it moved.

 It sniffed at his satchel again, and he realized belatedly that one of the attendants back at the castle had packed a few jelly tarts in it. For the road, she’d said. Callum waited for the raccoon to dig them out, figuring it would take them and leave. But instead it grabbed the satchel’s strap in it’s teeth and began dragging the entire thing away towards the woods.

 “Wait, no! Give that back!” he scrambled out of his tent and ran after it a few steps into the dark. But he was tentative, and it knew where it was going. All he saw was it’s busy tail vanishing into the pitch black of the treeline, carrying his satchel - and sketchbook, he realized with horror - with it. 

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 “Soren.”

 Soren rolled over, blearily flapping a hand in the direction of the voice, trying to ward it off. “I’m sleeping.” he murmured.

 “But you just talked, so clearly you’re not asleep.” the voice pointed out, making it painfully clear who it belonged to.

 Soren stifled a yawn, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Well I was before you woke me up.”

 He opened his eyes, taking a moment to let them adjust to the dark. Callum was couched in the open entrance to his tent. The younger boy looked on the verge of tears. Instantly Soren sat up straighter, grabbing the wooden practice sword form where it always lay beside his bedroll.

 “What is it? Are you okay?”

 “Th- There was a raccoon and-”

 Soren groaned, dropping the weapon. “A raccoon? You woke me up cause of a raccoon?”

 Callum sniffed. “It took my sketchbook.”

 “So get a new sketchbook.” Soren offered.

 “It- It was a present from King Harrow. And it’s got…” Callum trailed off for a moment, then swallowed. His voice was quieter when he continued. “It’s got all the stuff I drew of my Mom.”

 Soren glanced away, feeling a pang of something in his own chest . He took a deep breath, then sighed.

 “Alright, let’s go get your stupid book.”

 The other boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

 “Yeah.” Soren grabbed his sword from where he’d dropped it, bringing it with him as he crawled out of the tent. “I did promise both our Dads I would keep an eye on you. Your stuff was probably included in that, too.”

 “Thanks, Soren.”

 “Yeah, sure.” He stood up, surveying the darkened camp. “Do you know which way it went?”

 Callum pointed off into the trees, and Soren rolled his shoulders. 

 “Alright, stay right behind me. Got it? There are Banthers in these woods.”

 Callum swallowed. “Uh huh.”

 “Let’s go.” Soren laid the sword across one of his shoulders, marching into the darkness. 

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 Check. Check. Che-

 Corvus stopped outside the next tent on his list. The flap wasn’t secured properly. He shook his head. Who was this supposed to be again? Oh yeah, the High Mage’s son. Probably doesn’t spend much time out in the elements. I’ll just show him how to do it.

 He crouched down, lifting the flap up and peering inside. But his instructions died on his lips. It was empty. Corvus stood quickly, glancing around. This was bad. Really bad. He couldn’t lose the High Mage’s son, not his first year of being an assistant councilor. 

 “Hello? High Mage’s son?” he called in a low whisper over the camp. 

 He probably just had to use the bathroom, Corvus though, logically. I’ll just wait for him here.

 But when the other boy hadn’t returned to his tent after ten minutes, he began to worry. Corvus glanced around nervously. He hadn’t heard any sort of commotion, but that didn’t make it much better. For all he knew the boy had just wandered off and gotten lost. And either way it had happened on his watch. 

 Corvus checked the rest of the tents quickly, keeping an eye out for anyone who could be the High Mage’s son. But that ended up being only the first of his problems when he found the prince’s tent was also empty.

 Now that is too much to be a coincidence, he thought. They must have gone off together.

 Scanning the ground for footprints, he caught sight of a small set leading from the prince’s tent and across the clearing. Following them, he discovered that his hunch had been right; they led directly to the other empty one. 

 So if I find the prince, I find them both. He thought, carefully picking out the smaller tread from the mess of footprints that filled the camp. They led him to the edge of the forest and into it, disappearing into the dark. With a sigh, Corvus followed them into the night. 

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 “Hey, uh, Soren? How do you know where we’re going?” Callum asked, picking his way carefully along behind the older boy.

 Soren pointed at the ground. “Your bag left drag marks.”

 “Oh. Cool. Coooolll.” Callum said. “And, uh, Soren?”

 “Yeah?”

 “How are we going to get back?”

 “We’ll follow our footprints.”

 “Yeah, but like, what if it’s too dark to see them?”

 “We’ve got the moon.” Soren said, pointing at the sky, eyes still trained on the ground.

 “Okay. Cool. Coooll-”

 “What?” Soren turned to face the prince. He was right, it was dark. He could hardly see Callum in the shadows. 

 “Just, uh, we’re pretty far from camp.”

 “Do you want your stuff back or not?” Soren asked. 

 “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 “Well then, come on. I’m not going to get us lost.”

 “Okay.” Callum had taken the moment of pause to catch up, and fell into step beside Soren as they continued on. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

 “It’s really cool how you can do all this stuff.”

 Soren glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, well, I am pretty cool.”

 “I wish I could do this sort of thing.” Callum sighed. “But I always mess it up.”

 “You’re probably good at other stuff.”

 “Nobody cares about other stuff.” Callum huffed. “Princes don’t need to be good at drawing, or at… at… I don’t even know! They need to be good at riding horses, and slaying dragons, and making decisions! And I’m not good at any of that stuff.”

 “Do you really need to be? You’re only the step-prince.”

 Callum sighed. “Yeah. I guess so.”

 He looked so downcast that Soren felt a little bad. He clapped the other boy on the shoulder. “Er, maybe you can use your drawings and like… make maps or something. That sounds pretty prince-y.”

 “Yeah. Maybe.” Callum didn’t seem convinced, eyes still fixed on his shoes. 

 Soren cleared his throat, fiddling awkwardly with the worn leather handle of his training sword. “You know, there are a lot of things I’m not good at either. Like… smarts stuff. So I just got good at hitting things instead.”

 He hefted the blade, swinging it before him. “Don’t need to talk to something if it’s already defeated!” 

 Soren shot Callum a hopeful glance, but the other boy didn’t laugh.

 He scratched the back of his head, returning the sword to his shoulder. “What I’m saying is, maybe you just haven’t found the thing you’re good at yet.”

 “Even if I do, it’s not gonna matter. It won’t change anything.” Callum huffed. “You’re right. I’m the step-prince. Being good at stuff isn’t gonna change that.”

 “That’s not what I meant.”

 “Then what did you mean?” Callum asked, shooting him a glare before quickly glancing away.

 “I- uhm.” Soren tried to find the right words, but it was all so muddled it was hard to explain. He scanned the trees, as though they would offer him a way out of it.

 And they did.

 “Hey, look!” he pointed at a nearby pine, drawing Callum’s attention up and into it’s branches. “That’s your bag, right?”

 “Yeah! Yeah, it is!” the prince ran over to the tree, reaching for the lowest branch. His fingers barely grazed it and he pushed himself up onto his toes, trying to reach it. 

 “Come… on!” he groaned. “I can’t do it.”

 “Step back.” Soren leaned his sword against a nearby trunk and walked over, cracking his knuckles (or trying to). “Let me handle this.”

 Callum scrambled back, staring at him as Soren leapt up as high as he could, catching the bottom most branch. His arms strained as he tried to heave himself up, but he managed to get up and over, straddling the branch while he tried to pick out which one to aim for next.

 “Soren, it’s really high.” Callum cautioned from below.

 “Chill out. I’ve done this before.”

 Soren braced himself against the rough bark of the tree’s trunk, feeling it scratch at his hands as he pulled himself upright to stand on the branch. Callum was just a vague shape in the shadows below, pacing back and forth nervously. 

 Soren carefully took his hand back from the tree, balancing as best he could, and grabbed the branch above him. Some of the bark came away on his hands as he heaved himself up and over again, steadily making his way closer to where the satchel hung a few limbs above. He repeated the process, slowly gaining height, until he was on level with the satchel. It’s strap was stuck on the branch above him, wedged between too smaller offshoots. 

 “Look, I’ve nearly got it!” Soren called to Callum, looking down. Which was probably a mistake, as he realized just how high he was. Soren swallowed, feeling his balance shift, and wrapped his arms around the trunk of the tree. 

 “Soren! How are you going to get down?”

 “Um. You let me worry about that!” Soren said with a lot of false bravado.

 “Did you get my bag yet?”

 “Working on it!” Soren slowly released his grip on the tree’s trunk, beginning to make his way carefully along the length of the branch, hands reaching out for the bag. The wood creaked below his feet and he swallowed hard. 

 “Soren! What was that?”

 “Nothing!” he called down to Callum. “It was nothing!”

 “Soren, is the branch breaking?”

 “No! Definitely not! That is definitely not what’s happening!”

 It creaked again, even louder this time, and Soren felt his foot slip as it branch groaned and heaved beneath his weight. He grabbed quickly onto the branch above until it steadied again.

 Just then a second, newer voice joined Callum’s. 

 “Prince Callum! I’m so glad I found you. Are you alone?”

 Soren didn’t know the new voice, and he couldn’t make out much of what was happening below through the darkness. The moon seemed to have abandoned them at some point during his climb, leaving everything in even deeper shadow.

 “Stupid moon.” Soren muttered to himself. “I hate the moon.”

 “Uhm, hello.” Callum was saying to the newcomer. Soren tried to listen even as he continued making his way closer to the end of the branch, his footfalls becoming slower and less sure the further out he went from the center of the tree. “And no, I’m just waiting for Soren.”

 “Soren?”

 “He’s in the tree.”

 “Oh. And why would he ever do that?”

 “You see, it’s a funny story actually-”

 Soren’s foot slipped, and he let out a small gasp of fear as he barely managed to steady himself on a nearby branch. Callum’s voice cut off at the noise, and suddenly the only sound was that of the wind rusting the pine’s needles and the bough under Soren’s feet groaning.

 “I’m sure it’s very funny, but perhaps you can tell me later.” The newcomer said after a moment. Then he called up into the tree; “Why don’t you come down now! Before you get hurt!”

 “I’ve got it all under control!” Soren called back. Which was kind of true. He was almost far enough out to be able to reach the bag. And he’d probably be able to figure out next steps from there.

 “I sort of doubt that you do!” the voice came again. “So please, just come down here and-”

 Soren took another step, and the branch gave it’s loudest complaint yet. He felt it shift under his feet, dipping downward. More, and then more, and then- 

 SNAP!

 Soren lunged forward as the branch broke, hands barely managing to grip onto the edge of Callum’s satchel before everything plunged downward.

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 Corvus was fairly sure that the kid in the tree was either the bravest - or more likely stupidest - person he had ever met. And he was going to get them all into a lot of trouble.

 “-just come down here and-”

 He was interrupted by a horrible snapping sound, and one of the tree’s higher branches - which he presumed the boy must have been on - broke away from the tree and plummeted towards the ground. Corvus grabbed the prince by the shoulders and pulled him out of the way, just barely managing to save them both from being squashed.

 No movement came from within the needled branches of the broken tree limb, and no scream of fear or pain had sounded as it plunged to the earth. Corvus crept forward, fearing the worst, but there was no boy to be found among the fronds and broken twigs. He glanced up at the tree, just barely making out the form of someone still above them, swaying gently back and forth. 

 Oh thank the Saints, Corvus thought. He caught himself.

 “Hey, Callum! I got your bag!” the idiot - Soren - called from above. Corvus faintly saw him wave a hand through the darkness. “I just, uh, don’t know how to get it down to you!”

 “Can’t you climb?” the prince asked, stepping up beside Corvus and staring into the foliage alongside him. 

 “Uhm, that would sort of require me to be able to reach the tree. Which I… can’t really do right now.”

 “What do you-” Callum’s eyes widened, and Corvus realized at the same moment he did what had occurred. “You’re hanging from my satchel?”

 “On the plus side, it seems to be very nice quality.” Soren informed them. 

 Definitely the stupidest, Corvus thought, shaking his head. Though that is it’s own kind of bravery.

 “Actually, uh, Callum.” Soren’s voice came again. “How much weight would you say this thing usually carries?”

 “I don’t know.” the prince tapped his chin. “Maybe like, three books worth?”

 “Well, uh, I think I weigh more than three books then.”

 “What’s happening?” Corvus asked anxiously, stepping forward. Not that he would be able to do anything if he fell. Could he catch him? Would that work?

 “You might want to step back.” Soren said by way of explanation.

 Callum stumbled quickly away, but Corvus scanned the ground furiously, trying to find anything that could break the other boy’s fall. Nothing. There was-

 “Timber!” Soren called, his voice betraying fear.

 Out of options, Corvus held out his arms and closed his eyes.

 It didn’t do very much good. Soren landed on him, sending them both sprawling into the dirt. Corvus spat out a few pine needles, wincing at a twinge of pain in his left wrist. 

 “Ow.” the other boy groaned, rolling off of Corvus and onto the ground. From there he held the satchel up, not moving from the dirt. “I got your thing, princeling.”

 Callum rushed forward, grabbing it and helping to pull first Soren to his feet, then Corvus.

 “I can’t believe you got it!” he gushed.

 Soren shook a few stray pine needles from his hair. There were a few tears in his clothes from where it’d gotten snagged on branches on the way down and Corvus was sure he’d have more than a few bruises later on, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. “Yeah, well, it’s not in uhh… exactly the same condition as before but-”

 Callum was already opening it, dumping the bag’s contents on the ground. He grabbed a book from among the other scattered items, rifling through the pages. He let out a relieved sigh. “It’s fine. My sketchbook is fine.”

 “You did all of this… for a book?” Corvus asked, glancing between them.

 Soren shrugged. “What can I say, he really likes his book.”

 Corvus shook his head, confused and a little bemused. “Well your adventure ends now. I’m taking both of you back to camp.”

 Callum quickly packed the rest of his things back into the now rather battered satchel and the pair of them allowed Corvus to lead them back the way they had come. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 Soren practically flopped onto the ground as soon as they got back to camp. The older boy - Corvus - had gone off to get a medical kit (Soren didn’t know why, he was mostly fine) and left him and Callum alone by what remained of the fire. 

 The young prince was already sketching again, doodling something in his newly rescued spellbook. Soren heaved himself up off the ground and went over to sit beside him, glancing at the page. He was surprised to find his own likeness staring back at him.

 “You’re drawing… me?”

 Callum’s tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and he nodded. Soren watched, transfixed, as the younger boy drew not just him but the tree, raccoon, and satchel as well. The entire escapade came to life under his pencil. Even Corvus and Callum himself made an appearance.

 “You’re really good at that.” Soren told him as he was finishing up. 

 “Like it matters.” he let the book fall closed, tucking it and his pencil back into his bag.

 “I’m, uh, sorry about what I said before.”

 Callum just grabbed a nearby stick, poking sullenly at the last few embers that remained in the firepit before them. “Why? You were right.”

 “No. I was just… I don’t know.” Soren gazed up through the trees and out at the stars. They were really pretty, out here in the woods. “I guess I was jealous.”

 “Soren, you just tracked a raccoon through the woods, climbed a tree, and retrieved my satchel. And I just… watched. What do you have to be jealous of?”

 “I always have to do stuff like that!” Soren explained. “Just to get noticed. And then you get to like… walk into camp and instantly everybody wants to fawn over you and gives you all the attention you could ever have wanted and-”

 “But I don’t want it.” Callum interjected.

 Soren blinked at him, surprised. “Why not?”

 The prince squirmed a little. “It feels weird. Like they’re not paying attention to me, they’re paying attention to what I’m supposed to be. They only care cause I’m the prince, and like you said, I’m not even really that.”

 “I guess that doesn’t sound especially… fun.”

 “Yeah.” Callum agreed. “Not especially.”

 “Well, for what it’s worth, I think your drawings are really cool. And I’m not just saying that cause you’re the prince.”

 A small smile tugged at the corner of Callum’s mouth. “Thanks.”

 He seemed to be deciding something for a moment, and then pulled his sketchbook out again, leafing through until he found the illustration he’d done of Soren and the tree. He carefully ripped it out of the book and held it out to Soren. 

 “Here, I want you to have it.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah.”

 “...thanks.” Soren took it gingerly, staring at it for a moment before folding it up neatly and tucking it into his pocket. “I can’t wait to tell my Dad.”

 “That you fell out of a tree?”

 “Well, maybe not that part.”

 Callum laughed, and Soren grinned at him. 

 “What’s so funny?” Corvus asked, returning with the med kit tucked under one arm. 

 “Just Dad stuff.” Soren explained.

 “Hm. Alright. Well, let me see your leg.”

 “It’s fine, Corvus.” Soren groaned.

 “It will be fine when I say it’s fine. Now show me your leg.”

 Soren sighed, pulling up his pant leg. He grimaced, most of his ankle was already a deep violet. Alright, maybe it wasn’t that fine.

 Corvus shook his head and sighed. “You’re probably going to need a splint.”

 “A splint! But it’s… it’s fine! If my leg is all messed up, I can’t do any of the activities. Like the hikes or the sparring or the-”

 “You’re going to need a splint.” Corvus repeated. “And no, you probably shouldn’t do any of those.”

 “But-”

 “You need to take it easy for at least a few weeks, until your ankle is better. I don’t know how you even walked on it the whole way back.”

 “Soren’s tough.” Callum supplied, leaning over to look at Corvus. “That’s how.”

 “Hmph. Well, he wouldn’t need to be tough if he didn’t go falling out of trees. Why don’t you go to bed, Prince Callum. It’s nearly morning and you aren’t on bed rest.”

 Callum sighed, but plodded off towards his tent. He glanced back at them once before disappearing inside, and Soren gave him an encouraging smile. But as soon as he was gone he let out a heavy breath, wincing. 

 “It’s not fine, eh?” Corvus said, not looking up from what he was doing.

 “I mean, it probably would be by tomorrow- ow”

 “No. It won’t.”

 Soren sighed. “Fine. I’ll rest.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? I could have helped you back to camp.”

 “I uhm…”

 “There’s more than one way to be tough.” Corvus told him, finishing the splint and sitting back to look at Soren. “Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness.”

 “Yeah, well, where I come from it is.”

 “That’s stupid.”

 “Are you calling my family stupid?”

 “I guess so.” Corvus returned the rest of the supplies to the med kit and clipped it shut before standing up. “I’ll check on it again tomorrow. Okay?”

 “But what am I supposed to do all day? Everyone else is going to be out doing fun stuff, and I’ll just be stuck here watching the grass grow.”

 “That’s the price you’re paying for your heroics.”

 “Heroics?” Soren perked up, and Corvus glanced back at him.

 “Don’t let it go to your head.”

 “Too late.” Soren grinned at him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Corvus’ mouth. The older boy sighed.

 “I suppose I should stay back and ensure that you actually rest.”

 “So… what I’m hearing is that you’re gonna keep me company?”

 “That would be a side effect, yes.”

 “Great! We can come up with a new camp song.”

 “And why would we do that?”

 “Because it’s fun.” Soren said, counting off the reasons on the fingers of his left hand. “Because we can. And because I said so.”

 Corvus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Camp songs it is, then.”

 “Yes!” Soren cheered, forgetting that the log he was sitting on didn’t have a back and toppling over.

 “Soren!” Corvus rushed to his side, peering over to make sure that he was alright. “Are you okay?”

 Soren brushed the leaves from his clothes as the older boy helped him up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 “Tomorrow, then?”

 “Tomorrow."

[pencilgutz]

I really need to stop staying up so late at night

I may or may not have an AU preheating in the oven rn

man Pirates and Cruises are so cool am I right

Close ups under the cut :]

I think @xinnamonbun would enjoy this greatly

i would also like to thank @trifluoperazine for helping me get ideas

[ro-bee]

im SAUR obsessed w/ the polycule, i also love how the lamb is just happily collecting those romances like YOINK!

The polycule drives me insane I wish I had more time and imagination to draw them all 4 together sobs

And yes lamb really need to keep all their quadrants full!!! The only thing they're missing specifically is a kissmesis because they're too sweet to be hating haha

[blujayonthewing]

thinkin again about the time elyss's DM cut in to stop a conversation between her and a semi-retired player character to hurriedly take back control of him as an NPC before he could give her, as an extremely kind and thoughtful gift, one of his own personal belongings, and then said 'elyss can probably buy it from him though :)' instead

like. what an egregiously fucking shitty thing to do, actually.

[lesbianusahana]

Do not get the wrong idea… although my username and icon are lesbianusahana and I frequently talk about how gay I am I’d actually rather jump out a window on a several story tall building than come out to my family as a lesbian

[martyrbat]

ghostbat only has two acceptable height differences:

A) minhkhoa is like,, 5'8 or below. napoleon complex/little dog syndrome yknow

B) bruce is exactly one inch taller and it pisses minhkhoa off more than he'd ever admit

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

i have thought of 1 (one) pro to this whole housing situation and i’m clinging onto it for dear life

[nostalgia-tblr]

The dark world thought. Loki keeps calling thor brother (mostly to annoy him) in the movie. idk why but i was hoping at least once thor would scream at him and say "STOP CALLING ME THAT"

Note to self: watch Thor 2: The Dark World. See, I think it's the other way round, and my answer involves thoughts I had about the thorki fic I inisist I will never write so fair warning for that BUT of the two it's Loki who's far more likely to insist they're not really brothers and shouldn't call each other that. A thought I had from the first film and then failed to post (I don't post ALL my thoughts on tumblr! Just most of them!) was that the 'worthy' aspect of Mjolnir is very vague and Loki would spend hours and hours trying to pin down 'what does worthy mean,' and utterly convinced that even if he isn't going to fit the criteria there must be a loophole somewhere in the wording that he can use. Whereas Thor probably hasn't spent much time worrying about that - either you're worthy or you're not and the magic hammer just knows which it is. Somehow.

Similarly I don't think Thor cares much about whether he and Loki were technically born to the same parents or even if they're the same species, because they are brothers, they've always been brothers, how can they not be brothers? Meanwhile Loki's upended life largely revolves around the fact that pedantically, legally, whateverly, they aren't really brothers and they never were. Which is why he's open to things getting incestuous now while Thor is still repulsed by his own unbrotherly yearnings. Don't be daft, Thor, we're obviously not brothers, stop calling me that it's not true you're just repeating someone else's lie! But what else would Thor call his brother? It may have been a lie to begin with, and it still might be a lie to other people, but having spent centuries thinking they were brothers and acting like they were then how is that relationship not them being brothers? Had Loki actually been his brother by blood it wouldn't have made a difference so in practical terms how are they suddenly not brothers just because Loki turned out to be a Frost Giant?

Thor wants Loki to stop causing problems and to stop being a dick, but he doesn't want him to stop being his brother (were such a thing even possible in his mind). Whereas Loki's life of crime or even just life on the run would be a lot easier if he didn't have a brother to worry about and who insists on worrying about him.

tl;dr: I got lost about halfway through my answer, sorry. I have more thoughts on this matter than my usually flippant comments might suggest D: D: