#.... writing this also reminded me that i never replied to that one thread from forever ago oops oops whoopsie ))

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + six

authors note: i really like how this one came out. hope you guys do too.

i use some psych terminology, so just as a lil glossary: pt=patient, dx=diagnosis, hx =history, fx=functioning status (mental stability, essentially) and hopefully everyone can understand the rest with context clues.

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

cw/tw: fluff, language, medical report following suicide attempt, discussion of sexual abuse, mention of torture

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

words: 10k (i don't know how to write short chapters, clearly)

The last thing Solana expected to wake up to is a handwritten note left for her in the same journal she deposited on Roman’s bed despite her better judgment. She was filled to the brim with anxiety regarding that bold decision, asking him to do something she’s certain is miles outside of his comfort zone.

She expected him to ignore her. 

What she didn’t expect was for him to reply.

Reading over his words, Solana struggles with the ease of his acquiescence. He indicated it could be short term, but she’ll take that, because it’s a hell of a lot easier for her to talk to this man if it’s through written word.

And the last part. 

There’s nothing you can’t tell me.

There’s actually a lot she can’t tell him. A lot he can never know. No one can know, but the sentiment behind it…..it has her puzzled. He has her puzzled. 

Solana grabs the journal and scans the kitchen for a pen when a thought crosses her mind. She bites down on her bottom lip, forever battling with the idea of something vs the actuality of carrying out the plan.

In a plot twist, she sides with the plan and pulls out her phone, searching for Roman’s contact.

She types, deletes, and does so again at least three times before settling on a text that really could have been conjured and sent in seconds vs the solid ten minutes she takes to issue it out.

Solana: Hi. Thank you. Do you think we could text too? I know that writing is my thing, but I can text if that’s easier for you too….thanks.

Solana nearly tosses her cell phone on the large slab that is his granite kitchen island and moves around to figure out what she’s going to fix for breakfast. The perfect excuse for her to not think about the knots in her stomach at her message. It doesn’t stop the overthinking though.

What if she’s asking too much? Pushing him too far out of his comfort zone? It doesn’t take long for her to regret her decision, wishing it was still within the time limits to unsend her message.

And then her phone dings.

Solana nearly drops the egg she was about to crack over the skillet. Swallowing, she places it back in the bowel as her feet slowly carry her to the phone that has now dinged a second time. Her fingers dance against the sides of her pants, stretching and scratching the cotton. 

Lifting her phone, she unlocks her phone and heads straight to his thread.

Roman: Yes.

It’s a simple response that makes sense for him and is beneficial for Solana who sighs in relief at his agreement. She stews on how to respond, eventually settling on a simple thank you as well as answering his question. The least she can do. 

Solana: Thank you…

Solana: And I don’t work this weekend. 

Solana: Can I ask you something?

Solana again starts chewing on her bottom lip as she mentally berates herself for bombarding him with messages when he’s probably in the middle of working.

But even so, that doesn’t stop him from replying almost instantly.

Roman: You don’t have to ask if you can ask me something, Solana. Just ask. 

It’s hard not to imagine the frustration on his face at answering her question while also having to remind her of what he’s already stated at one point or another. 

Solana: Okay…

Solana: Where are we going?

She’s unsure if he will respond and has accepted that he may not, which is okay with her. He’s already being more responsive than she initially anticipated he would. And Solana is barely able to put the skillet on the fire before her phone is buzzing again.

Roman: You’ll see.

His answer makes her frown. It’s not what she wanted to hear, but it’s also not a complete disregard or verbal lashing for asking a simple question.

Solana prepares to leave it as is when Roman’s voice is in the back of her mind, nudging and reminding her of his desire for her to communicate with him more.

Nervous fingers type out an expression of said nerves.

Solana: Okay….surprises just make me nervous. 

She doesn’t have time to put her phone down when those three dots appear, indicating he’s typing.

Roman: It’s nothing bad.

Roman: I wouldn’t lie to you. 

And for some strange reason, Solana believes that. Roman doesn't seem like a man to lie in general, because he’s too blunt for that. 

Unless….

Unless it’s one of his mind games, because he is notorious for that. Still, she can’t find a reason why he would waste his time playing one of those with her. 

Solana: Okay. Sorry to text you while you’re working.

Roman: You’re apologizing again.

Roman: And I don’t care. 

Roman: I’d rather talk to you than listen to the twins bullshit.

Solana tries to not put too much into his words, into him saying that he wants to talk to her. It’s not that he directly wants to speak to her, more she’s the lesser of two evils. Nothing to get into her head about.

Solana: They’re kinda funny….🙈

Roman: You’d feel differently if you had to deal with them all the time. 

Solana: Fair.

The exchange is so in the moment, back to back, that she doesn’t put her phone down again until her last message. She then returns to preparing her breakfast. 

Solana is frying her eggs, adding in seasoning when her phone dings again. Wiping her hands on her apron, she expects a message from Bayley or even Naomi.

Especially Naomi. She needs to talk to her about what happened, apologize for putting her in what must have been an awkward situation.

It’s neither of them.

Roman: How’d you start writing?

Roman continuing or prolonging the conversation isn’t something she saw coming. But, the message is right there in white writing against that gray background.

Solana briefly debates how honest to be in her answer, deciding to step a bit out of her comfort zone in offering more than just her usual three to five word responses. 

Solana: My mom. She spoke English, but she wasn’t fluent, so she’d write letters to me in Spanish, and I’d have to respond in English so we both could learn.

Solana: My dad wouldn’t let her teach or speak it around me and Wes so that was the only way I/she could learn.

He stops replying after that, and Solana feels stupid for being so open, for not just giving him a simple answer with all of the unnecessary verbiage.

And then her phone goes off.

Roman: Not surprising. 

When he doesn’t say anything else, Solana debates on whether to end it there or follow up with another question given that he asked one first. It feels like returning the favor or reciprocating manners.

Hence, she decides on texting him again. 

Solana: What is that language you speak to the twins sometimes?

Roman: Samoan. I’m fluent. Italian and English as well. 

That’s not entirely surprising. Roman is obviously a well educated, well rounded man. 

Roman: You’re more perceptive than you let off.

Solana: Maybe. But no one ever cares what I have to say or think, so it doesn’t make sense to share it. 

He stops replying after that.

And Solana tries to not think too much about her disappointment, moving around the kitchen to finish fixing breakfast as a distraction.

A poor distraction, because not even twenty minutes later, she’s ready to check her phone again even if it hasn’t made the special sound that makes her belly flutter. However, the sound of the doorbell pulls her from that premature excitement.

Solo comes to meet her in the kitchen informing matter-of-factly, “it’s Naomi and Bayley.” 

Solana stills. That’s definitely not someone she expected to see so soon. Neither of them.

“Invite them in?” Solo’s voice tinges with borderline irritation, which she can understand.

Cheeks reddening, she apologizes. “Yes. Sorry. Of—of course.”

Solana hears Bayley before she sees her. “Damn. This is how it’s like to live as the Tribal Chief's wife? Maybe shit isn’t so bad after all.” The two walking in wearing friendly smiles brings back Solana’s grin.

“Hey there. We wanted to come check on you.” Naomi introduces, the first to ask, “is it okay if we hug you?”

Solana doesn’t hesitate as much as she would expect herself to. “Yes.” 

Naomi also doesn’t hesitate and steps forward, hugging Solana in such a sincere way she’s not sure she’s experienced in years. Since her mom. 

And Bayley does the same, maybe even a little tighter.

The three of them sit down at the kitchen island as Bayley asks in a sympathetic tone. “How you doing, lady?”

“Better.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana can’t help but think about the additive that it’s largely due to Roman. But, she keeps that part to herself. She looks at Naomi. “I’m so sorry—“

Naomi lifts a manicured finger to silence her. “Girl, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t know what was going on. You could have told me too, but I get it must have been hard for you.”

This part had Solana deeply nervous, the part where she’d have to ‘face’ Naomi after causing such a scene and getting the whole place shut down for an entire day, So, for the woman with the penchant for bold colors that look delightful against her complexion to be so understanding and empathetic, it means a lot to Solana.

It means a lot that Bayley would also even tag along when she wasn’t even part of that chaotic ordeal.

“Just know you can tell us anything. We’ve got your back,” Bayley affirms, adding with a smirk. “And clearly your big bad husband does too.”

We’ve got your back.

Solana doesn’t even know where to begin comprehending and swallowing that. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t have too long to be in her head, because Naomi starts talking again. “That was wild,” she comments with a shake of her head and then looks at Solana. “Oh shit, you probably don’t know, do you?”

Solana’s stomach does the opposite of butterflies, the uncomfortable clenching and twisting that accompanies anxiety. “Know what?”

There’s no delay with the answer.

“Theory and Waller are dead.” Solana wasn’t sure what to expect to hear Naomi say, but even if she tried to guess, that would have never been one of her options.

Confusion is painted all over her face. “Wha—what?”

Dead.

The two men who just yesterday caused her to breakdown and revert back to her teenage years where dissociation was her coping mechanism, the men who’d been sexually harassing her with zero regards for her as a human and even more, as Roman’s wife….are dead.

It feels almost impossible to be true. 

Bayley backs up Naomi’s assertion, adding, “yeah, he had their bodies, or what was left, displayed at the Warehouse this morning.”

Chills travel up her spine. “W–why?”

It’a a word aimed towards a lot of the questions Solana has unanswered. Why are they dead? Why did Roman kill or have them killed? Sure, she expected there to be some form of punishment, merely for the simple fact that messing with her was a clear sign of disrespect toward him, which the Tribal Chief would never tolerate. But, for them to be killed, in such a what sounds like a gruesome manner, and their remains to be left for all to see?

Why?

Bayley answers with a shrug of her shoulders. “To send a message.”

Solana is surprisingly fast with her follow up. “W-what message?”

Naomi is quick with the answer, but in general, she seems to be knowledgeable about a lot of things Bloodline. “You’re Bloodline now. No one messes with us. And you’re Roman’s wife? Yeah, he’s making sure everyone knows what happens if they even think about fucking with you.”

It lines up, Solana reflecting back on Roman’s departing declaration the night before.

“I told you. No one lays a hand on you. I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

She just never expected such a….big message. 

“Honestly, they were fucking creeps anyway.” Solana cannot and does not disagree with the first part of Bayley’s statement, the second part, however, is iffy for her. “They got exactly what they deserved.”

Solana neither agrees or disagrees with that.

“I’m thinking we do your training from here for a little while,” Naomi suggests. While her initial response is to apologize for any inconvenience this may cause Naomi, Solana can’t deny the fact that just the thought of walking back in that building right now makes her physically ill. “I know Roman got a state of the art gym here and that massive backyard of yalls? This will do just fine.” 

“Oooh, I gotta see this.” Bayley then asks, “Solana, are you working today?”

“No, I called out.” Solana needs at least a day to get her mind right, hence taking today off.

Bayley then suggests, “Naomi and I were gonna go shopping. Why don’t you come with us?” 

It's an interestingly timed question given one of Solana’s text exchanges with Roman not even an hour ago included him informing her that the stack of envelopes on the kitchen island earlier were her new set of cards, all linked to his accounts. 

And he made sure to reiterate again that there is no limit. For any of them.

Bayley then decides and declares, slapping her hand on the island. “Matter of fact, we’re not asking. We’re telling you that you’re going shopping with us.” That is something Solana is familiar with, never being asked, always being told.

It’s just rare, if ever, it’s something that isn't entirely bad or terrible she’s being told she needs to do. 

“I’ve been wanting to take you shopping for forever anyway. Because as sweet and great as you are, Solana, you dress like college freshman meets Billie Eilish.” Before Solana can ask what exactly that means, Naomi explains. “So much neutral and dark colors. And everything is oversized. I can tell you’re kind of insecure about your body, but you literally have no reason to be because you have an amazing shape.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, but her hand naturally goes to one of the scars on her arm from that night. 

Naomi notices this and advises in a gentle voice, “we all have scars, Solana. Some you can see and others you don’t.” Solana has both, and it’s a miserable experience. “That doesn’t mean you have to hide them and be ashamed.” 

“Naomi is right.” Bayley agrees, and something tells Solana she’s going out shopping today whether she wants to or not. “We are going to help you learn to embrace your curves one better fashionable choice at a time.” 

________

Solana can probably count on one hand how many times she’s gone shopping in person over the past couple years. Maybe longer. She mostly sticks to online shopping when she is in need of a couple new pieces, always sizing way up so she can assure that it fits. More so drapes over her body, but that’s always been the preference.

She’s also never shopped at stores where the price for a single item can be upwards to three to four figures, which apparently isn’t the case for Bayley and Naomi.

Cause one of the first items they pick up for her is a single blouse that reads $650.00 on the price tag. Solana nearly faints when she reads that. That’s probably the entire cost of her wardrobe put together. 

She’s starting to regret telling them about Roman adding her to his accounts. Naomi especially seemed thrilled at that, and she seems to be the one piling the cart with more and more items. Bayley also offering her fair share of contributions.

All the while Solo keeps a safe but comfortable distance, wearing that infamous stoic expression, Solana can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling about this, about having to spend his time watching her while she shops. It can’t be enjoyable for him at all. She feels sort of bad. 

“Oh my god, you have to try this on.” 

Feeling bad for someone else morphs into feeling bad for herself, to a certain extent, when Solana sees the dress that Naomi is holding up for her. 

In all interactions, Solana does her best to be polite and kind, to never invite a volatile or mean response. “Ummm, I don’t—I don’t think that’ll look good on me.”

It won’t look good for a lot of reasons, the main one being it’s too small. Solana can see the thin sleeved dress is intended to be form-fitting—another major red flag—but even with that, it’s obviously a size, or eight, too small.

Naomi makes a sound. “Girl, that’s just how it looks. It molds to your shape, and with all your curves, I know it’s going to be a killer look.” She then pushes it in Solana’s direction again. “At least try it on. You never know unless you try.”

But Solana does know. She knows this dress is going to draw attention to all of her flaws. The rolls, the pudge of her belly, her big arms, and those damn scars. But, she also doesn’t want to be rude, so she agrees, disappearing in the dressing room before emerging a couple minutes later, never once checking her reflection before doing so. 

She walks to where the ladies are waiting, asking with an awkward shrug of her shoulders, “well?”

Naomi gasps. “Holy shit, that looks amazing on you, Solana!”

“Of course it does. You see that body?” Bayley joins in on gassing her up, adding, “it really does look good, Solana. We wouldn't lie to you.”

Huh. That’s the second time today Solana has been told that. 

Bayley then instructs her to look at her reflection in the full body mirror of the dressing room, a dreaded task but one she makes herself complete. 

Solana does her best to try to be as neutral and not negative towards her appearance, but it’s hard when she keeps honing in on the scars on her arms, the one on her face, not to mention her weight and how, to her, it just seems too much. 

Her father’s sharp and consistent criticism starts to return to the forefront of her mind when she notices Naomi snap a photo. Turning on her heel, she asks with a level of nervousness, “w–what are you doing?” 

“Helping you to realize how bad as hell you are.” Naomi says it so casually, so calmly, turning her phone toward Solana. “See.”

It’s a thread, a group chat, and along with the picture Naomi just snapped, there’s an accompanying text.

Naomi: Solana is being stupid and thinks she looks bad in this dress. Please prove me and Bayley’s point. 

Solana’s eyes go wide when she realizes just who is in this group text. Jimmy, Jey, and Roman. 

Her stomach is twisting all over again. “Naomi, I—I don’t think—”

Naomi’s phone chimes, and a smile grows on her face as Bayley moves closer to Solana. 

Naomi starts laughing and then smirks as she flips it so Solana and Bayley can read. “I rest my case.”

Jey: Damn, Soso 👀 Hell yeah, she look good. Goddamn! 😫

Jimmy: I GYAT to start coming over to ya’ll house more, Uce. 🍑

Bayley makes a wolf sound, playfully shoving Solana whose cheeks are reddening by the second after reading the surprising response from the twins. She definitely either expected no response or an either kind or unkind disagreement. “We told you, girl. You look amazing.” Bayley then comments, directing her statement to Naomi. “Man, you and Jimmy definitely have a strong ass relationship, cause I’d be ready to kick his ass.”

Naomi shrugs, simply responding. “We trust each other. I know it stops at just looking for him. Same for me.”

Her phone makes a sound, and she reads whatever the latest incoming messages are, instantly rolling her eyes. “Roman is such an ass sometimes.”

Solana’s ear perks up at the mention of his name as she asks, “what did he say?”

Naomi turns her phone again so Solana can read for herself, her stomach twisting with anxiety when she reads his trenchant reply.

Roman: Shut the fuck up.

Roman: Unsend this shit, Naomi. Now.

But before Solana can panic about his response, her phone dings and she pulls it out to see his name on her lockscreen. Instead of delaying the inevitable, she unlocks to read his response, anticipating the worst.

Roman: You look good.

Roman: But you always look good. 

Solana has to read his text a couple of times before it actually registers. He thinks she looks good. Roman thinks she looks good. Even more, he thinks she always looks good. Solana doesn’t know how to take that, even though there really is only one way to take such a message.

Bayley and Naomi being the bit of nosy Nancy’s that they are, sneak a peek at Solana’s phone and also read his text. Bayley is the first to speak, displaying that knowing dimpled smile. “Ha! See. The Tribal Chief himself has spoken.”

Naomi and her share a laugh as Solana finds herself also with a small smile. Roman had told her the night of WarGames that she looked beautiful, and she hadn’t really known how to take that either, chalking it up to the face full of makeup and fancy updo.

But this photo Naomi snapped and sent shows her without a lick of makeup on, hair messily pulled back and out of the way. It’s literally just her in a dress, a dress she normally would never dare to brave, but something Roman apparently thinks she looks good in.

“Does…..does he really think I’m beautiful?” It’s a question she never intended to leave the safe confines of her mind, but it’s a rebel, sneaking its way out and landing on the doorstep of the two women before her.

Bayley, as per usual, is the first to speak. “Is that a serious question? Of course he thinks you’re beautiful, because you are. You’re absolutely stunning, Solana. You have to see that.”

“Most of the men at your wedding kept commenting on how pretty you are. And your boobs, of course, because men have no couth.” Naomi rolls her eyes but continues. “And as someone who has had the displeasure of knowing Roman literally since we were in elementary school, I can tell you that you’re 1000% his type.”

Solana doesn’t believe that Naomi has reason to lie to her. Bayley either. And as Naomi has been around the family for so long, her word has to be true. But, Solana has a hard time separating the fact that Roman, who has someone as beautiful and unflawed like Samantha, in the same vein, could think someone like her is beautiful. 

Samantha is beautiful, and someone he can actually touch.

Because regardless of how he views her, it all comes down to that. Physical intimacy. One of many things that Solana can’t give him.

But Samantha can.

Samantha does.

That’s why she was in the house that day, doing what Solana should but can’t because she’s too fucked up, too damaged, too broken. 

Bayley reaches over with a comforting hand, switching to Spanish. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t. You’re beautiful, Solana. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Fuck anyone who’s ever said different.”

Solana isn’t quite sure how to describe how grateful she feels in this moment, to have such support, to have people be so genuinely and sincerely supportive. She hasn’t had that in so long, she’d almost forgotten that it was possible.

Emotion thick, she responds in the same language, “thank you, Bayley.”

“Okay, now that’s just not fair. I wanna know what’s going on too.” Naomi’s protest and almost childlike pout makes Solana smile, a nice break from the heavy emotional experience going on in her head. 

“Just some girls supporting girls shit.” Bayley shrugs and claps her hands together. “Okay, now let’s see what sexy little red pieces we can find for you….”

________

Texting and writing with Roman on and off for the rest of the week was never on Solana’s agenda, but it’s exactly what’s been happening. 

And she has no idea what to make of it. 

Every time there’s a delay with his response, she assumes that’s it. That’s the end of the conversation. Only for her phone to buzz with not only a response but usually a follow up question.

It’s almost as if he wants to keep the conversation going, but that can’t be it. She can’t see why he’d want to speak with her.

Even if he literally stated that he’d prefer to talk to her than listen to his cousins bicker. Still, his entire day can’t involve their presence. There has to be some separation at one point or another. 

But even with that, he’s consistent with eventually replying, acknowledging her messages even if the responses come hours after her first one was sent. 

And for the life of her, Solana cannot find a good or logical reason as to why her stomach flutters with a modicum to medium level of excitement every time her phone dings. 

Because she thinks it’s another text from Roman.

Because she’s enjoying speaking with him. Because she seeks out opportunities even while working to check her phone and see if he’s text her. It’s not traditional communication, and she’s certain there’s no way in hell she’d be able to talk to him this freely, this comfortably if it was verbal. 

Not a chance.

But in texting, she finds a level of ease that makes it significantly easier to get to know him. And maybe that’s what it is, she has some level of desire to get to know him more. If this “marriage” is to last, whatever that looks like, it feels like she needs to know more about him other than that he’s big, strong, and a killer.

Those traits more than speak for themselves, but there’s gotta be more, and there is. Like her now knowing he speaks three languages fluently and would like to pick up another someday if he ever has the time. Or that he works out at least twice every day and doesn’t feel right if he can’t get in at least one workout.

Similarly, Solana finds herself reciprocating his sharing of information, small facts that aren’t major but make a smidge of difference. Like her love of books and words. The few shows she enjoys. She especially doesn’t understand where that comes from. The sharing on her end. It’s something similar like her growing relationships with Bayley and Naomi. 

But that’s different, so so different, for a variety of reasons. One, they’re women, and while anxiety is something she struggles with in interactions with all individuals, regardless of sex, it’s much easier with them than men.

And Roman is not the average man, far from it.

He scares her.

Or does he? 

Solana has been struggling to make sense of the fear that often cripples her and the behavior he’s shown her thus far. They don’t add up. Sure, he’s expressed irritation and a level of anger towards her, but both were more than warranted. And even in those moments, there was still a level of control and composure. He didn’t scream at her. Didn’t belittle her. Didn’t hit her. 

And his words from earlier that week circle back around to the front of her mind.

Even that day at her job.

He’s made it clear now two times that he has no plans or desire to ever hit her. Initially, that didn’t mean anything to Solana, because she’s never known a man in her life to never beat on her. The second time, it made her start to wonder if he was telling the truth.

And now, in a week of genuine and okay interactions, maybe even good interactions, that wondering of the truth is gradually meshing into believing.

Especially because something tells her Roman’s not a man to lie, not unless he’s playing one of his infamous mind games. And what reason would he have to play a mind game with her of all people?

She’s nobody.

But not enough of a nobody for him to end the conversation, which she’s expected all week but yet to see happen. Even more, a part of Solana feels like he’s also wanting to keep the conversation going, matching her with the questions vs just responding and leaving it as is. 

And Solana appreciates it a lot, maybe even to the point where she’s gradually starting to appreciate him.

If she doesn’t already.

It’s why she doesn’t mind waking up earlier than she already does to fix breakfast and get ready for work to do something for him that she hopes he views as nice while he gets in his morning workout in the home gym.

Finished and almost too nervous to stay around for his response, she grabs the notebook, leaving a quick message before heading up the stairs to get in at least another hour of sleep as there’s still leftovers from yesterday’s breakfast.

Roman,

I noticed you tend to start off your breakfast with a protein shake. I saw how you make it, so I figured I’d just make it for you. Less for you to do.

Hope that was alright.

Solana

________

Roman didn’t plan to text and write Solana as often as he has. It just…..happened.

She was right in that communication does seem smoother and even easier through this channel. It’s also nice to “hear” her communicate without all that damn stuttering and stammering. Her texts and letters read so much better than actually listening to her speak aloud.

Not that her voice isn’t pleasing to some extent. It is. Soft and almost melodic, minus the fucking stutters. 

Roman is in the middle of reviewing income spreadsheets when Jimmy walks into his office and

drops a stack of paperwork on top of Roman’s desk. He then plops down in one of two chairs opposite his cousin. “Solana’s medical records.”

Roman is pleased, thankful to the Wise Man for his promptness regarding his request.

“There is something you should know though.”

Instantly, Roman is annoyed, because he recognizes that tone of Jimmy’s. The tone that lets Roman know he’s not going to like what he’s about to hear. “What?”

“Apparently, information is missing.”

“What do you mean it’s missing? Find the fucking hospital that has them. I want all of her records.” Roman’s orders were clear as day, and he fucking hates when even with comprehensible issuance, there’s still a fucking problem. 

“That’s all that’s available. Paul said the records indicate shit was deleted or something. Like cleared out of the system.” Before Roman can express his dissatisfaction and suggestions, Jimmy explains, “He said he consulted with Pearce to see if he could retrieve the files, but even he couldn’t get them. Something about systems changing over time and not being compatible. You know, all that tech shit Pearce be talking.”

Roman was right. As always. He’s annoyed.

Because he knows exactly who would have had a hand in something like this.

Xavier.

He expresses as such. “It was Xavier. Son of a bitch probably had it deleted somehow.” Roman knows Miller has hands and ties in the medical community as well as social services, though that power and leverage has definitely dwindled over the years due to Miller’s mounting financial problems. However, around the time Solana was a kid was very much the peak of Miller’s paltry empire. 

“What exactly are you looking for, man?” Jimmy asks, trying to get a read on his cousin, never an easy feat. If at all possible. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s obvious Solana been through some shit. You really need to know all of it?”

It’s a sound question that Roman isn’t certain he has the answer for. Knowing just what Solana has been through could be helpful in helping him understand her better, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t know why he’s even bothering with that. Why does he even need to understand her better?

“I mean, just what happened to her mom could be the reason for a lot of her….struggles.”

“That’s part of it.” Roman’s certain of that, but he also knows there’s more. “Her father and brother were abusive.”

At that, Jimmy appears shocked. “What?” His expression quickly turns into a scowl. “That’s why you had us handle up on ole’ boy? You should have said that was why. Would have broke that bitch left hand too.”

“I’m going to kill them both before all is said and done.” And that’s a fucking promise, an oath. Their days are numbered. “But until then, I’ll keep them away from her.”

“That must piss them the fuck off.”

“Exactly.” Beyond making sure they don’t fucking touch Solana, Roman recognizes flexing his power and authority by cutting off all contact between them is something Miller and his boy must find infuriating. They’ve clearly thrived on controlling and torturing Solana, but that shit is over. 

Solana is Bloodline now.

No one fucking touches her.

“Well.” Jimmy blows out a big breath and shrugs his shoulders. “I just hope you know what you doing, Big Dog.” 

“Don’t I always.” Roman mutters, opening the manilla envelope to start going over the files. “Jimmy.”

“Yeah?”

“Have Naomi continue to do Solana’s training from the house.”

“Come on, man, my girl is already on that. She said Soso’s been getting better and better too. ” Jimmy answers, explaining, “I think she and Bey should be over there right about now anyway. Feels like they always over there these days.”

Roman wouldn’t entirely disagree. He gets regular updates from security regarding any and all happenings at his home, which includes a list of visitors, and Naomi and Bayley have been consistent on that list. 

Roman also understands now why Solana hasn’t replied to his latest text.

Not that it bothers him. A lot, at least. He has shit to do anyway. 

A couple minutes later, Jimmy leaves, and Roman is left alone to venture into the next task on his to-do list. 

As expected, Solana’s medical records consist of a lot of emergency visits for accidents. Sprains. Broken bones. Fractures. Endless bruising, hematomas even. The visits eventually die down, but Roman suspects it’s not because the abuse stopped or paused. More likely they stopped taking her and she tended to her wounds herself.

But, the largest section of her records is the most telling.

Subjective: PT is a 16 y/o mixed race female currently admitted following SI attempt. PT was reportedly found in bathroom by family maid and transported to ER by ambulance where she was formally admitted. PT does not appear fully oriented to person, place, and time. PT offered minimal responses to questions and would only speak when prompted. PT denies auditory and visual hallucinations. PT reports wanting to be with mother who is deceased. PT reports no will to live. PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. PT observed to become teary eyed following this acknowledgment and would not speak on nature of trauma. PT began to cry and moved into fetal position after being asked reasons for attempt. PT was heard repeating the question, “why didn’t you let me die?” PT became unresponsive after this exchange.

Assessment: PT presents with flat affect and depressed mood. Presents with poor insight and impulse control. PT’s wrists medically wrapped. Faded scars and bruises observed on PT’s arms, legs and partially faded bruise on left eye. PT also has scars on both arms and face, reportedly from knife attack during childhood.

Objective: PT does not appear stable enough to be released from care. Fx is severely impaired. I suspect a long history of complex trauma, confirmed sexual abuse, and suspected physical abuse. Medical records from client’s initial admission indicate “numerous” pre-existing cuts on PT’s inner forearms, indicating repeated incidents of self-harm. I deem PT to be an imminent danger to herself and suspect a release would result in another SI attempt.

Plan: I strongly recommend client be transferred to an adolescent residential facility or kept inpatient at hospital where she can be monitored and placed on medication regimen as well as participate in intensive individual and group therapy to assist in mood stabilization.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life. 

Diagnosis: F43.10 Posttraumatic Stress Disorder w/ Dissociation 

Roman keeps reading over this section of the file, but there’s one part that stands out the most.

PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. 

That’s the part that Roman can’t seem to move past. He’s read it all. Every fucking word. And it’s all horrific. But, it’s that one sentence, that one damn sentence that confirms what he’d started to suspect, had gradually started to put the pieces together to see the much larger, darker picture.

She’d been touched. He doesn’t know to what extent, but regardless of the specific nature, at fucking sixteen years old, she’d already been violated.

A single swoop of his big arm across the desk sends all of the items once neatly situated sprawled across the cherry wood flooring. Roman stands up and slams his fist down on the table, head down as he tries to calm his suddenly shot nerves.

Livid. He’s livid.

The Bloodline is a lot of things but that has never and will be one of them. It only took one time for some fucking piece of shit to even suggest the Bloodline enter the world of Human Trafficing to increase their reach and profits even more for everyone to know that’s where the line in the sand is drawn.

Roman’s never put a fucking bullet in someone’s head so fast. 

The same urge he has currently.

An urge that’s almost instantly lessened by a small amount when his phone lights up and a name appears across his lock screen.

Solana

Eyes shutting, Roman runs his hand over his face and snatches the phone, unlocking it to view her text.

Solana: What time will you be home tonight?

Instantly, Roman feels a lessening of his anger, reading her message, almost hearing said message in her gentle voice. It’s a distraction but both a reminder of why he’s all upset. Solana’s softness doesn’t equate with the violence she’s experienced, the violation, the pain. Especially as a fucking child. Roman has never understood and has always been especially infuriated by violence against children. There’s wrong and then there’s immoral. 

That’s beyond immoral.

Roman will never deny he’s committed his fair share of sins, earning a VIP spot in hell when that time finally comes, but that is something he could and will never get behind.

Solana: Just so I know what time to have dinner ready by…..

Her follow up is typical, always explaining what she doesn’t have to. 

Roman gives her the best reply he can muster up at this moment in time.

Roman: Not sure. Don’t worry about that. Probably won’t get in until late.

And he truly doesn’t know, because going home in this state of anger won’t do her any good. He told her he’d try to be mindful of his temper around her, and this is just that. He doesn’t want to scare her. 

He needs an outlet.

But, here lies the fucking dilemma. 

Since he was a teenager, Roman’s outlet has always been sex. He’s the type to fuck away his feelings. Working out also helps, but sex always took the cake, helped out sometimes just a smidge or a shit ton more. 

And in a different kind of world, he’d do just that working out with the same woman he finds himself infatuated over. His dick stiffens in his pants thinking back on the picture Naomi sent and wisely unsent to his disrespectful ass cousins. 

But not before he could save it to his camera roll.

Roman has never and will never deny his physical attraction to Solana. She checks every box for him in that category, but she’s not an option. He can’t touch her. He can’t touch her because some fucking piece of shit did just that to her when she was essentially a child, and now she can’t stand to be touched because of it.

Roman finds himself returning to his previous level of rage. 

He needs to work this off him.

And he knows just how.

Grabbing his phone and switching from Solana’s thread to hers, he shoots out a simple text.

Roman: I’m coming over.

________

True to his word, Roman gets back late after an…..interesting visit to see Samantha. Somewhat worth it, but mostly now just another irritating thing he has to handle. Not that her being upset bothers him in the slightest.

She can fuck off and ride off into the sunset for all he cares. 

Granted, the non-asshole side of him, more a small section than a side, can understand why she was upset with him.

He just can’t find it in him to give a fuck.

What he does find, however, is something else.

Roman steps into the living room and sees none other than Solana sleeping on the sofa. Confused, he quietly moves closer in her direction and sits opposite of her on the sturdy, mahogany wood coffee table.

And he watches her, studies her sleeping expression, wondering if she had another nightmare. The possibility drags him back to his earlier disposition, the reason he didn’t allow himself to come back to the mansion at a more reasonable time.

He didn’t want to expose her to that. To that side of him.

Without much thought, he reaches for her face, fingers gently caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. She feels so soft, a stark contrast against his roughness.

In more than one area. 

He’s not sure if she felt his gesture or, like him, is just a light sleeper because her eyes slowly start fluttering open. He waits for her to become more aware and cognizant, and she does, whispering, “hey.”

He matches her low volume. “Hey.” Roman studies her, asking, “you alright?”

She nods, gradually sitting up, and he tries not to notice how instead of wearing the type of baggy shirts he’s noticed she likes to sleep in, she’s donning a thin sleeved top that accentuates her chest. “Yeah, I—” She closes her mouth, and he can tell by the way her brows furrow slightly that she’s trying to figure out how to word whatever she wants to say. “You seemed off. I just—just wanted to make sure you were okay, but I guess I fell asleep….”

It’s Roman’s turn now to not quite understand or make sense of what he’s hearing, so he asks, still in that subdued voice, “you waited up for me?”

Roman can’t recall the last time anyone cared when and even if he made it home. He doesn’t know how to feel about this. At all.

With a sheepish expression, she nods, “tried to, at least.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” And it’s the truth. He doesn’t know why she would in the first place anyway. “It was just….a long day.”

Solana nods, “I get that.” He also takes note of the fact that she’s not stammering as much, doesn’t seem as jittery as he’s used to seeing her. “I should—I guess I’ll go to bed now.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just sits back so she can stand up without him being too in her space. He especially understands now why that’s such a big thing for her.

But, it’s when she stands that his gaze seems to travel to her inner forearms, faded scars now having an even bleaker meaning as he now has the full story.

Another sentence from her medical report whizzes back to him.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life. 

He should write it. Roman knows this. Knows that she’d probably respond better and be more comfortable writing, but he also knows it makes him feel almost physically uncomfortable with having to wait to get a response.

He’s much too impatient for that shit. 

He needs to say this shit now.

“Solana.”

She’s halfway to the staircase and turns around, “yes?”

Roman’s never been one to beat around the bush, so he gets straight to the point. “You used to cut, right?”

Always perceptive, Roman sees the shock in her face at his question, the unease that brews as she nervously runs her hand along the side of her cardigan pajama pants. “I—yes, but—not since���.it’s been a long time.”

He half expected to have to ask her about the last time she actually did it, though he can tell by how faded the scars are that it has been quite some time, so he believes her. Knows she’s telling the truth.

Still, he needs to make something perfectly clear.

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Solana looks just as confused as he feels as to why this is suddenly important to him, important that she knows she can come to him if those dark thoughts and urges occur. But still, she agrees, acknowledging in that same small voice.

“I understand….”

________

The breeder is only about a half hour out from the mansion, allowing for a drive that’s on the shorter side than what Roman was initially anticipating.

Just like he successfully anticipated Solana’s nervousness throughout that entire drive. She keeps looking out the window, most likely trying to navigate where they’re going. And if not for the unexpected but necessary business call he had to take that lasted almost the entirety of the drive, he would have tried to calm her nerves.

He’s realizing he doesn’t like seeing her so on edge.

When they arrive, Roman is the first to exit the SUV, circling around to open the door for her. She offers a nervous smile and steps out, Roman’s eyes darting to her ass, the sway of it in her yoga pants as she moves a bit away, taking in the average two story house in front of them.

She looks back at him, and he redirects his focus to her eyes, big, brown, and just as innocent as the rest of her. “Where—where are we?” 

Paul also steps out of the car, almost immediately coughing and waving at some flying insect that whizzed at him. “In the middle of nowhere.” He then sets his cautious gaze on Roman. “My Tribal Chief, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have terrible allergies—”

“I don’t care.” Roman cuts him off, speaking to Solana, gesturing with a nod of his head. “Come with me.”

A part of him wonders if she’ll hesitate, freeze up on him, maybe even refuse. But she instead moves closer to him, walking along his side as he leads them up the steps of the porch. He reaches for the doorbell and is almost instantaneously met with the sound of barking. Interestingly enough, one glance down at Solana and he sees a spark of excitement that chips away at her nerves. 

A couple seconds later, the door opens revealing a middle aged white woman wearing an inauthentic smile. The kind of smile someone forces for a business meeting or possible transaction.

“You must be Mr. Reigns?” She correctly guesses, eyes then landing on Solana. “And you must be the Mrs?”

Roman places his hand on the small of Solana’s back, noticing how she initially tenses but, surprisingly, relaxes just a few seconds later. “My wife, Solana.”

Solana offers a small wave and polite hello but nothing more.

“I’m Beverly.” She introduces, but Roman doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to know shit about her except whatever her price is. She steps aside, motioning for them to come in. “Please.” He allows Solana to walk in first, followed by himself. When Paul doesn’t also follow suit, Roman turns around. “Wise Man.”

Paul, complexion starting to become pinkish, politely declines. “I’ll just wait here—”

“Wise Man.”

“Coming, My Tribal Chief.”

Once all three are inside, Betty or whoever, offers something to drink which all three decline, shortly after which the woman asks, “so, are we looking for—”

“It’s for her.” Roman motions to Solana who looks at him still wholly confused as a teenage girl, who looks like the spitting image of her mother, descends down the stairs. “Whatever she wants.”

Betty’s eyes light up as she directs the teenager. “Honey, can you take her outside to see the puppies?”

“Sure.” The teen’s voice is annoyingly preppy, like nails on the chalkboard, like a fucking cheerleader or something. “Follow me.”

Solana again looks at Roman, as if for guidance, but he only nods, encouraging her to follow. She’s still reluctant—he can see as such—but ultimately follows the blonde out the backdoor. 

As soon as she’s out the door. Betty starts with the irritating sales pitch, talking to him about the history of Pomeranians, the benefits of that breed, dietary guidelines and other things he couldn’t give two shits about. It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to take the business call the minute his phone rings and instead advises Paul to listen to the woman talk. 

He moves to the front of the house, securing another layer of privacy and doesn’t even hesitate to walk right past a wheezing Paul to head out back where Solana is once the call is over.

Roman finds her outside in the spacious yet somehow closed in yard. She’s sitting in the grass, legs open as a tiny dog, a puppy, moves back and forth between sitting in Solana’s lap and running in a circle before coming right back to her. Roman realizes she’s playing with the freakishly small animal, but beyond that, she’s smiling.

And laughing.

Roman can’t recall the last time, if ever, he’s seen her do the latter of the two. Even her smile is much larger, much more genuine than he’s seen her offer in the short time he’s known her..

“That one.” The woman, Bonnie, who came outside at one point with Paul, moves toward Roman. “She wants that one.”

Bonnie steps forward and frowns, slapping on that disingenuous smile he’s learned how to read all too well with years of experience working with people. “Oh no, that one’s not supposed to be out there. My daughter must have forgotten to pull her.”

Roman really does try sometimes with people, but they always end up fucking annoying him one way or another. “She wants that one.”

The woman stutters. “I–I’m sorry, but that dog is already under contract.”

Rolling his eyes, he asks, surprisingly calmly, not wanting to necessarily cause a scene in front of Solana. “How much?”

“Pardon?”

Roman does his best to hide his irritation at having to repeat himself. “How much?”

Betty releases a nervous smile, crossing her arms across her badly built body. “I—I can’t sell you a dog that’s already under contract, sir.”

Politics. It’s all politics. Roman knew the second Betty’s smile grew as her eyes landed on his Hublot watch that she saw this as a great, unexpected windfall. And she’s not entirely wrong. “Everyone has a fucking price, lady. Name yours.”

She stutters again. “Sir, I—I appreciate the interest, but that dog comes from a champion bloodline. The buyers intend to show her, so they’re paying a pretty penny.” She throws out casually, as if he can’t tell what she’s trying to do, the deal she’s trying to see if she can score. “They’re paying $10,000—”

There it is. The sin of greed that gets us all at one point or another. 

Without second thought or guess, Roman states, “I’ll give you $20,000.”

As expected, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head, the expression highlighting excessive crows feet no doubt caused by unnecessary time spent under this scorching sun. “$20,000?” He doesn’t even have to counter again. “Well, I suppose I could offer them another puppy—”

“Good.” Roman knew right away “negotiating” with this woman wouldn’t take much. She’s in it for a clean, high profit, which is fair considering one could say that for all business owners. But, if all else failed, he had…..other strategies. But those are much messier, and he’d rather just throw a stack of cash her way so they could be on their merry fucking way. “Wise Man.”

Paul steps forward, pudgy cheeks reddened and eyes watering. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Pay the woman.”

Paul swallows. “But, my—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s cheeks redden as he nods and motions to the house. Roman doesn’t need to say anything else. “I will handle the sale. Shall we?”

As Roman allows his counsel to handle the closing of the deal, he walks over to Solana who looks over at him with that same smile. He crouches down near her, observing, “she seems to like you.” And it’s the truth, seeing how the other puppies are content with playing with each other, this one is sticking with Solana.

She looks at Roman, petting the top of its head carefully, looking back down with that happy smile.“Thank you for taking me—”

“She’s yours.” 

Her head snaps in his direction, right as the dog climbs into her lap. “W–what?” Solana blinks, face painted in plausible confusion. “M–mine?”

Roman chuckles. “It’s certainly not for me.”

“Really?” Roman watches the hairy ass creature stand on its legs, as if demanding her attention. Attention whore ass.

“Yes, if you want her—”

“Yes,” she answers almost immediately, suddenly. And true to her nature, she’s already backtracking. “I mean—“

“You want her, so she’s yours,” he reiterates his previous statement, but there’s a tone of finality that lets Solana know he’s not open to a discussion or debate.

It’s a sure thing. 

“She’d be your dog. Not mine.” He clarifies. Solana can tell it’s also his way of telling her he’s not doing shit to help her take care of this dog, which is more than fair since Solana would bet he had no plans to purchase a dog anytime soon.

So why is he? 

She just has to ask again. “You don’t—-you really don’t care?”

It feels unreal. Too much like not an option. Not a reality. Why would he allow her a pet? Buy her a pet? 

He eyes the animal that’s seemingly already taken so well to Solana. “She’s so damn small I’ll probably forget she’s there half the time.”

There’s that laugh again, and Roman finds himself with a small smile of his own, not as big, nor as genuine, but a smile nonetheless. But just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Clearing his throat, he asks, “what are you gonna name her?”

Solana looks down at the puppy in her lap, nestled so comfortably against her stomach, eyes fluttering close like she’s about to fall asleep. With a soft smile and gentle caress of her coat, she answers. “Dulce.”

Roman’s thick brows arch together as he asks, “is that Spanish?”

She nods, glancing over at him just long enough to answer. “It means sweet.”

He makes a sound. That lines up. For both of them. 

The dog's eyes then land on him with as much disinterest he feels about it, quickly focusing back on Solana. “I suppose we’ll have to get supplies and shit for her.”

Roman doesn’t consider himself having a childhood, so he refers to what most call just that as his ‘formative year.’ And during those formative years, he never had a pet, so this is new to him as well, outside of just the common sense parts of owning a dog.

She’s petting the sleeping puppy “Aren’t you busy today?” 

Yes. Always. Roman’s to-do list is on subscribe and save, constantly delivering him new shit when he’s still working on the old shit. It’s just a part of the job though.

“No,” he answers. “It can wait.”

________

A couple of stops at different stores to pick up all of the shit Solana needs for Dulce along with getting the first vet appointment scheduled for the puppy takes just under three hours, which still grants Roman plenty of time to head into the office. Not until, though, he makes sure Solana is good to go, good with being left alone with the dog.

He meant it when he said it was her dog and he wouldn’t be helping out and shit, but given it’s the first day, he can see how there could be some nerves there.

But, there’s not. She’s good to go, hence his okayness with leaving for a little while to get some work done.

She doesn’t text him as much during the day, a noticeable thing that he understands is because she’s spending time with the dog. 

But, he does come home for lunch to get in a workout where he finds an entry in the notebook.

Roman,

Thank you so much. 

I promise I’ll take care of her and keep her out of your way. Paul’s too. I’ll keep her in the room with me when he’s over.

I always wanted a dog, but my dad hates them, and even if he didn’t, I was always too scared Wes would do something to it or worse….just to hurt me. He hates me, if you didn’t notice….

Solana

Roman doesn’t take much, if any time, to reply. He’d prefer to talk to her in person, but Bayley and Naomi are over, the three women in the backyard playing with the dog. So, he allows her that time, settling for a written response. 

Solana,

You’re welcome. 

Don’t worry about Paul. He won’t fucking die from allergies, and if he does, oh well.

I noticed. It’s why I’ll never leave you alone with him or your shitty father. Ever.

Why does he hate you?

Roman

Solana is partially upset when she realizes she missed Roman coming home for a workout, not that she wanted to bother him, just maybe….see him. Maybe even talk to him. Possibly tell him thank you again in person vs writing it in the notebook, but after Naomi and Bayley are gone and she’s fed Dulce her dinner, Solana sees Roman replied, leaving the notebook on her bed this time.

Most likely for privacy.

The first part of his note makes her laugh, even if she doesn’t enjoy Paul clearly suffering from his allergies. The second part, however, Solana struggles with.

She doesn’t know how honest to be with Roman, doesn’t know where she should draw that line in the sand. However, it’s not missed upon her that everything she’s shared with him, he’s been surprisingly okay with. Never having such a major reaction that it made her second guess her sharing.

And the man just bought her a fucking dog, something she’s always wanted. For no apparent reason.

Maybe….maybe she can be a bit more honest, a bit more forthcoming, even if it is a somber truth.

Roman,

I don’t want to inconvenience Paul. That’s not fair to him….

Wes blames me for our mother’s murder, says it was my fault.

And he’s not wrong.

She is dead because of me.

Solana

The minute Solana brings the notebook to Roman’s room, she regrets it. She regrets opening up, regrets being so vulnerable with him. Just because he answers her questions and bought her a puppy doesn’t mean he gives two shits about her trauma.

She’s so tempted to sneak into his room and take the journal back. It keeps her up, makes her toss and turn as Dulce sleeps peacefully in her pink dog bed beside Solana’s. 

But, it’s when Solana wakes up at 4am and notices the notebook on her nightstand, her anxiety reaches another level. Instead of avoiding it until morning, she sits up and snatches it, flipping to the page they’re on.

And her stomach achieves a new level of butterflies when she reads his response. 

Solana,

It’s not your fault.

Also, you were wrong.

I care what you have to say and think.

Roman

[onbeinganangel]

artists self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five arts/sets/edits/gifs that you've done, then pass on to at least five other people. time to shine and spread some self-love and appreciation 🥰 <3

omg sia, hi!!! it feels so special to get this question from you, the very first person i ever chatted to when i first fell into the drarry rabbit hole 💛💛💛

i’ve not embroidered fic recs in a while (though i have just finished a GORGEOUS commission i can share soon!!) but i think about it a lot. so this is gonna be a bit of little end of the year introspective look at my work. here are my favourite five embroidery projects i’ve done:

fic rec for almost heaven by M0stlyVoid

(original post here) — i just love how this one came out! i love the simplicity of the hands and the wee plait that i made! i fucked up my entire back doing this in 6 hours because i’m a mess but i still think it was totally worth it. this is also responsible for my obsession with embroidering hands (may it live forever) so, again, totally worth it!!

fic rec for Running on Air by eleventy7

(original post here) — this fic will never not be special. these were a lot of work but they remind me of a very special summer and autumn of sitting in the park embroidering and i love that they’re a set of two, with the iconic landscapes. i just love how they are different but complement each other! it makes me think i’d love to make more matching sets actually 👀

3. fic rec for Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid

(original post here) — i think i love this one specifically because of how experimental it is. i love the gauzy base fabric, the cotton wool, the textured moon. i keep meaning to play with fabric more and haven’t done it as much as i wish, but i really enjoy looking at all the textures in this one

fic rec for Among Ancient Pines by Theartfulldodger

(original post here) — talk about texture!! this was one of those that took AGES and a lot of patience to keep going and going and going with the same bloody stitch. a lot of textile art is trusting the process, and this one put me through it a bit. i love the end result so much though! it's so colourful and bright and i love that i even made the wee trees at the bottom work, which was terrifying after spending so many hours on the base layer haha

fic rec for The Last of What the World Left You by xanthippe74

(original post here) — i mean, look at this wee fella, how could i not love him to death 🥺 i LOVE filling in colour with long and short stitch. satin stitch is satisfying but i just love the depth and dimension long and short stitch give pieces. until this piece though, i'd never dared do it in darker colours! i think it takes a lot more finesse and you can lose a lot of detail with the darker thread. i took a chance because i really, REALLY wanted to embroider HIM specifically for xanthippe's fic, and the effort absolutely paid off. i am no longer scared of darker colours and he makes me smile every time i see him

this got super long to no one's surprise but it was a pleasure to look at these! i think i tend to overanalyse (and worry over) my writing a lot more than i do my embroidery so this was really fun! thank you again <3

[imxthexhandler]

💕 💕 💕 💕 💕

send 💕 or ( ‘HEART’ ) for me to randomly pick one of my mutuals and write at least two things about why i love seeing them on my dash, writing with them, talking to them, etc.

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@bennyboylewis : Iz, you have been one of biggest supporters ever, and you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever made in life, and I’m blessed every day for you. I love you, girlie. You’ve been so kind and compassionate and patient with me, and I cannot express my gratitude adequately enough. Also, I love Ben. I think you’re the person I have the most AUs with period. I love Ben’s sense of loyalty and snark--Amelia does, too, even when that crazy mechanic drives her insane. You are an insanely talented person, and I hope one day you see it for yourself.

@tsushimanoonryo : I know we don't write together, but I love reading your threads, and honestly, the few times we've chatted OOC, you've always been so cool and chill to talk with. You're a highly creative individual, and I love all the amount of detail you've poured into your muse. Keep on being awesome!

@wildthiiing : Lanie, gosh, I’ve been writing with you for so long! Over so many muses... I love interacting with all of your muses, and Amelia especially loves Jane and Trip and Barney. I love reading your threads, I love seeing your headcanons and the things you post that remind you of your muses. Thank you for always putting up with my hyper ass. And all the spam.

@bokketo : What can I say about Onyx? They are very talented, able to write such vastly different muses, all of them very well. Onyx is an insanely talented writer and photographer, and they have been such a supportive and sweet friend. I'm very lucky to have met them.

@koiwrites : God, where do I begin with you? You have stuck by me through it all, you were one of my first partners on this hellsite! You are so insanely talented, and I'm always happy to see what you create. Thank you so much for putting up with me and all my screaming about our babies. Thank you for just being a friend and solid partner. I cannot express how much both of those have meant to me over the years.

@quiveringdeer : Nat is a very talented writer, and they have introduced me to different horror movies. Even though I am not a fan of Attack on Titan (nothing wrong with it, just the premise never grabbed my attention), I really enjoy reading her headcanons and ficlets about characters

@adventurepunks : Love this one so much. If anyone likes stuff from Amelia's DC Argus verse, you really have this one to thank. Between the adventures with Zee and Amelia or her romance with Roy. Although he is one of my favorite DC boys of all time, I never expected to ship him with Amelia--or that I would ship these two so dang hard. Not only are they so patient with me for replies, always willing to go along with any of my crazy ideas, they always check up on me, and they are just a sweetheart.

@thedemonconstantine : This person, right here, is an INCREDIBLE artist! Seriously, you need to check out their artwork. I don't know this mun too much OOC, so I don't know if their IRL job involves art, but I hope it does, because again, their talents are incredible. I'm often a spy on their John/Nick threads with @adventurepunks; I can't help it. It may not be my preferred ship for Constantine, but GAWD, their threads are SO GOOD! 10/10 def. recommend!

@blizzardmuses : Bea is just such a sweetheart and always indulges me with whatever crazy idea I throw at them. They are a very talented writer, and I'm always happy when I get to write with them or read their threads. If you're a Starfire or Red Hood fan, then most definitely I recommend following this one 10/10.

@audaxbellator : Oh, wow, Bethany, how long have we been partners?? Seems like it’s been forever, ever since I created Amelia. You’ve always been so kind and so sweet to me, thank you. Steve and Amelia are just perfect for each other, and I always get excited to write with you. Thank you for not only being a friend to me but for being a writing partner.

[1d1195]

HIIIII it’s been a while i’m so sorry i’ve just had a terrible time since i sent my last ask :// summer is soooo kicking my ass but i am trying to persevere !!🫡 LMAO

MAKING HIM TAKE BUZZFEED QUIZZES IS SO SMART OMG I NEED TO TRY THAT !!! he said Steal My Girl 😂😂 lil basic but i can’t blame him it is a bop, we both go crazy when that one comes on

I SAW THE NEWEST UPDATE ON THE my-boyfriend-is-trying-to-be-a-writer-thread and SAMANTHA I CANT WITH YOU LMAOOOOOO this thread is so funny i just love that IT KEEPS GOING dw queen i devoured that 10k traditional chapter as if it were 1k🫡🫡🫡

also queen just wanted to let you know your stories follow me everywhere🥹 saw a framed poster on etsy titled ‘Wildflower Garden’ and it was SOOOOOOOOOO protection coded💔💔 it was a bunch of pretty flowers and it had Sweet Creature lyrics “wherever i go, you bring me home”😭😭 i love them sm he would totally buy it as a present for her on a random tuesday and they would forever hang it up in their home😭 and i saw a video on insta and i was CACKLING😭😭 some girl was talking abt how her dentist had his fingers in her mouth and she said something inappropriate and i was like ‘this is basically the plot of chapter 2 of Toothpaste’ HAHAHAHAH

i saw you posted Most and it looks SOOOO interesting but i really can’t lie im scared to read it cause everyone and their MOTHER are in your inbox hating on some bitch named lauren ??? i don’t know her AND I DONT NEED TO TO KNOW THAT IM NOT GONNA LIKE HER EITHER😭😭 THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN !!! once u post part 2 i’ll def read it🙂‍↕️🤞

I STARTED LOVE AND OTHER WORDS LAST NIGHT ??? I ALREADY LOVE IT i’m barely a hundred pages in and i’m soooo invested in their story. what gets me is homegirl KNOWS he’s the love of her life and HE KNOWS IT TOO ?? and i’m just sitting here like “make out already ???🤨” HAHAHAHA but i know it’s not that easy😔 but i will defff let you know what i think as i read some more

idk if im stupid or what but i had NO clue Christina Lauren was TWO PEOPLE AHAHAHAHAH i opened the back cover of the book and i was like😦😦 ive seen SOOO many people talk about and recommending their books yet i never knew that ?😭 i think co-writing books with your bestie is SOOO amazing omg

HOW ARE YOUUUU ?? I MISS YOU SO MUCH 💕💕 catch me up on everything, big or small it doesn’t matter 🫶🫶🫶

~🎶

Oh no! I'm so sorry to hear you weren't doing well! I hope everything is okay, feel free to vent if you need to 💕 I'm so happy to hear from you, but don't feel bad about late replies, I'm happy to hear from you at all 💕

Steal My Girl reminds me of fall (the whole album does) but that was my favorite of their first song album drops. It really fit the vibe. The music video always makes me laugh. I never knew I needed to see Louis with a chimp until then 😭 A LITTLE BASIC. I'm SCREAMING. Good for him though, I don't think that's an obvious choice for casual listeners. I love it!

HAHAHAHAHA I feel like I'm truly living a double agent life. I feel a little bad but I will never tell him. He'll live without knowing. You're so kind 😭 10k of Harry being sick is usually where I start rereading Traditional. I don't think I've reread parts 1-5 since like maybe a week after I wrote them 😂

Omg that's so cute 😭 I think about that a lot, if my writing pops up in people's lives. Someone a while back sent a message that their parents got a new washer and dryer and her mom tested it with like one sock and it made her think about Love and Dryer Sheets and I just thought that was so cool 😭 I LOVE the idea of her buying the poster for her on a random Tuesday. I feel like Toothpaste is going to be simultaneously the most relatable one and least relatable one as idk if I know any hot dentists 😭 but that's really funny nonetheless!

I think I remember you telling me that you don't like to read unfinished stories? I think you did it with Dolcezza maybe; no worries either way. But knowing that, you may want to sit this one out until I get like part 2 AND 3 posted? I feel like I'm going to get "SAMANTHA -🎶" in my inbox and nothing else if you read it before it's done 😂 But yes, we HATE Lauren here. But of course I want you to read it when you have time/want to 💕 I would love to hear your thoughts!

I'm so happy you're loving it! MAKE OUT ALREADY LITERALLY. I just loved their story so so much he's so in love with her I cannot. It gets a little deeper but it hooked me so fast I couldn't put it down. I think I read it in one day.

YES. I forget how I figured it out, if I also read the back cover or if I was googling them or something idk. But it's SO cool they write together! I wish I had a writing bestie to do that with, but anyway!

I'm doing well! I think when we last chatted I was STRESSED™ over everything and now I'm MUCH less stressed thankfully. I'm really not doing a whole lot these days. Just trying to enjoy the summer even though the weather is crappy af lately. Too hot to breathe one day and then raining off and on for hours. Can't do anything outside. I made a yummy pasta dish for dinner last night and other than that, my life is pretty boring.

I hope you're doing better, I've missed you so much as well! I hope that things calm and settle for you so you can relax and enjoy 💕

xoxo

[canisfuria]

{ ♙ } it’s that time of year || NOT Accepting || @deathleads​​​ { ♙ }

           [ The chemical stench of formaldehyde tightens Kain’s throat with nausea. She had explained her alchemy to the mechanic in the past- her aptitude for human physiology, what it’s made of, its structural integrity. At the time, Christina had likened her work to his, how they both took apart broken systems, and replaced the parts to make them work again. ‘Like a surgeon’, he had rationalized.

            But this is the first time he’s caught any glimpse of her craft. As she’d formally sanctioned, Kain had merely been dropping off one military-granted refrigerated truck- one of the smaller, more mobile units. And after announcing his delivery, then being invited into the lab, it isn’t hard to connect the dots to what his delivery will be used for: her table stacked with jars of specimens, and her apron stained with dry, oxidized burgundy. 

            His face must have given away his horror/shock/repulse astonishment, because it prompts a strange, amused giggle from the woman. The sound makes his stomach flip, and for the life of him, Kain can’t identify the emotion. “Do I look like a monster to you?”, she asks.

             ‘Of course not,’ his lungs offer immediately, but they’re held hostage by his eyes. For said eyes have never seen such a variety of viscera, before. ]

       ❝ No, ma’am, ❞

             [ he eventually breathes, swallows, transfixed by colorful bottles of shelved preservatives. This is her profession. Nothing to lose sleep over, nothing to fear, right? A little macabre, but perfectly natural. Nothing not seen by a doctor, or a butcher. This is her field, hauntingly like his own: Christina studies how to mend that which is damaged; ]

        ❝ I-i think you look like a pioneer at work. ❞

[piraticalwit]

A STUDY IN— 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 LUCAS 𝚁𝚄𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙶 (the short answer is not well.)

𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙴𝙳   i mean ... i would say it varies but to be honest i’m consistently slow over here. It’s not for lack of muse or motivation but rather an excess of perfectionism. I am my biggest critic and enemy both when it comes to writing on killian. He is my favorite and my soul muse and i’m never going anywhere but over the years I’ve started to put a lot of pressure on myself and I think i have ridiculously high expectations that sometimes convince me to not reply at all. I can’t do a bit of work on a draft and save it and return later. My brain doesn’t work like that. If I get halfway through and I’m 8 paras in and I lose the muse or get distracted or suddenly doubt myself, I delete it and it’s dead and done until the next time I pick that reply back up. So I struggle a lot with reminding myself I don’t have to be perfect over here and that no one is ever going to be like ‘jeez luke I was really expecting something mind blowing and that was pretty basic tbh’ so that sometimes means i can go weeks without replying to anything. I also have discovered I have to be in a good mood to pull off writing hook. My inspiration is my own cockiness, on top of the world feeling, so when I’m struggling mentally .. my productivity on this blog also struggles. I love you mates though !!

𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚂   I can do shorter replies but tbh they always become at least a good sized paragraph. I love the ones that are super long. I live for them. I thrive on atmosphere in threads and shorter replies sometimes lack in that so while I never mind the length my partner gives me .. chances are I’ll always reply with at least a paragraph or two (if not 5. for a lot of people 5 or 6 tends to be my magic number). They are slow to be posted because .. again... perfectionism is a bitch. But I never drop anything without telling you and I have resurrected threads from like four and five years ago for people before and put them on the dash like ‘surprise!’ I make some of my closest friends and easiest to write with partners wait months (or years) for replies so never think a slow turn around time means I don’t like writing with you. That’s not the case at all !!

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂   i post starter calls when I’m in the mood for something new or I have a lot of new followers in an attempt to get things going, but to be honest, if I don’t get through it, don’t hate me. I forget I made them, I run out of ideas, I get tired and then when i get a burst of energy I focus on drafts. I’m all over the place. But again, if I don’t post a starter for you right away, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to write with you !

𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇   i love memes. but they, much like starters and replies lmao, can sit forever. I usually get on this blog and look at everything I have to do like those dogs in the tik tok videos where their owners run in two different directions and they just sort of spin around and bark because they don’t know where they should go and who they should follow. That’s me every single day. You can always turn a meme into a thread if you want !

𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈   extremely so. I try to be open to people but if I don’t think our styles will mesh and/or I don’t have an interest in your character, I won’t follow. If I follow you, I want to write with you. If I don’t follow you, it’s nothing personal i promise. 

𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃   i have never had one. If I come up with something that makes me think of a certain muse, I’ll go to the person who writes them and yell ideas.

𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴 I love writing antagonistic vibes (or is it that thats all killian really gets because he’s .. him... and I’ve just learned to embrace it?? we may never know) and i live for drama and that emotional rip your heart out plot point. I am all over the place - bounce off the walls all over the place - and my main goal in life is to drag everyone into the color of my world and help you chill and catch your breath for just a second. also killian is literally an asshole and i hate everything to do with once upon a time so if you’re a killian jones stan who lives and breathes and just abso-fucking-lutely adores him ... you don’t want to be here. this is a killian jones hate zone.

tagging: anyone who wants to + @twistedwit bc this is right up hunter’s alley and they’re gonna want to. stolen from : @thebestplayer

[koumine]

Simeon x Lucifer feels are coming back around 🤍💖🖤 [LUMDS snippets] [OM!]

summary: snippet A - Simeon-and-Lucifer, a complementary pair, back in the Celestial Realm. // snippet B - Rekindling their friendship, not long after Simeon arrives in the Devildom.

tags: queerplatonic Simeon x Lucifer, fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

Notes: full fic (light up my darkest skies) coming ~someday~ and will be rated E. Other preview snippets from this fic can be found in my [masterlist]!

[rated G below] [WIP ZONE]

It goes like this: Already close friends, they grow even closer, start "living in each other's pockets", a human world phrase that Lilith picks up and teasingly bestows upon them. Lucifer's never sure who, but someone starts calling them Simeon-and-Lucifer, as though it's all one name, as though the two of them are one entity, and it spreads until all of the seraphs and quite a few of the lesser angels and even Michael himself are calling them that in lighthearted jest. "I think it's cute," Simeon says when Lucifer complains to him about it.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head. "Of course you do." "Why don't you?" Simeon asks curiously, putting his hand over Lucifer's where it's tucked into Simeon's elbow. Lucifer thinks about it. "It's…" A pair of angels comes by on the garden path, so Simeon smiles and greets them, like he always does. "Simeon-and-Lucifer, greetings!" they say. "Hello, Edith-and-Anais!" Simeon says back, gently teasing, making the other two laugh. "Out for an evening constitutional? Oh, by the way --" he stops on the path, forcing Lucifer to stop with him. "Anais, how fares your sister?" "Much better, thank you, Simeon," Anais says warmly. "After you came to speak with her last week, she took your advice to heart and is feeling better and better with every day that passes." "That's wonderful!" Simeon says, radiant in his sincerity. "And Edith, you may need to remind me to finish that book -- I confess I keep getting distracted by other texts lately." "You mean you've been distracted by that new human world play that's been making the rounds," Edith teases, and Simeon laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "I'll certainly remind you to finish that book, though," she says easily, "as I'd quite like to hear your opinion on it. However, hold onto it as long as you like." "Much appreciated, Edith," Simeon says warmly. "Have a good evening, you two." And he turns away to keep going down the path, towing Lucifer willingly along, like it's just that easy to engage and then disengage from a conversation, like the boundaries of it are just that obvious. Lucifer just nods at the other angels as they pass; they nod back, perfectly cordial but not warm. He really doesn't know how Simeon does it. "You were saying, Lucifer?" Simeon asks, a moment later. This is why Lucifer can never quite manage to be upset at Simeon interrupting their conversation to briefly socialize with others. He always, always picks back up where they left off, never losing the thread of their conversation. Sometimes the pause is even helpful, giving Lucifer time to think something over. "You and I are very different angels," Lucifer says, finally. "You're radiant and charming and charismatic. You know everyone --" "Not everyone," Simeon protests. "-- and everyone is always so pleased to speak with you." Lucifer shakes his head again. "We're very different, and yet they call us Simeon-and-Lucifer as though we're one and the same." "Hmm." Simeon looks at him thoughtfully. "You're right, we are quite different, though not in the ways that you imply," he says. "For you are also radiant, and charming, and you are thoughtful and industrious." "I see you don't think I'm charismatic," Lucifer notes dryly. "I wouldn't lie to you like that, Lucifer," Simeon says, holding a straight face for all of a second and a half before he laughs at his own joke, and Lucifer chuckles too in spite of himself. "In all seriousness, though," Simeon says, still smiling merrily, "everyone I know would love to converse with you as well. They just find you intimidating." Lucifer frowns. "I'm not intimidating." Simeon points his finger right in Lucifer's face. Lucifer blinks and tries to lean back out of range, but Simeon follows him with that accusatory finger until he can poke Lucifer right in the forehead. "Hey!" "That," Simeon says. "That frown right there, that's exactly why angels think you're intimidating." Lucifer starts to frown again, feels it happening, tries to stop it and smooth out his brow again, but it doesn't really work. Simeon laughs at him. "Oh, heavens, I wish you could see how ridiculous you look right now," he says, chortling. Lucifer gives up and scowls at him, which instantly feels more natural. Simeon smiles back, and Lucifer suddenly realizes that it's always been this way: him frowning, in frustration or consternation or just thoughtfulness, and Simeon smiling back.

"Okay, listen to me now, Lucy," Simeon says. "Simeon," Lucifer hisses, looking around the walled garden. Fortunately, there's no one around to overhear that ridiculous nickname. "Listen," Simeon insists, putting his hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "You and I are very different, Lucy, and that's why I love you. You're quiet and focused and proud, and I'm --" "A social butterfly, and easily distracted, and also proud," Lucifer puts in, to make Simeon roll his eyes. "-- so we complement each other," Simeon finishes. "Simeon-and-Lucifer. It's not that they think we're one and the same. No. We're two halves of a pair. Complementary." "Complementary," Lucifer repeats, thoughtfully. He keeps thinking about it, even after they walk on. Complementary, half of a whole, with Simeon being the matching other part. It sounds right. "Hey," he says, when they arrive at the bridge with the best evening view over the lake. Simeon turns and leans back against the railing while Lucifer rests his forearms on it beside him. "What is it?" Simeon asks, concern creasing his brow a little. It's Lucifer's turn to smile back at him. "I love you too, Sim." And the radiance of Simeon's beaming smile nearly blinds him.

---

It goes like this: “Can we be friends again?” Simeon asks bluntly, one day after a lecture on Rowa-period Devildom law. Lucifer has always appreciated directness; becoming a demon clearly hasn’t changed that. Lucifer pauses in the middle of holding the door for him. They’re the last two people in the classroom. “I -- yes,” Lucifer replies, blinking in surprise, then frowning. And that -- finally, that’s a look that Simeon knows how to read. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to?” Simeon asks, eyebrows going up. Lucifer pushes the door closed. He gives Simeon a long look. “Yes,” he says frankly. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms, if you recall.” Simeon laughs nervously, putting a hand to the side of his neck. In truth, he had almost forgotten, in a way. In the intervening eons, he had made a habit of boxing up the memory of that final altercation and hiding it away, to dwell on the fond memories instead. To wield them like shining shields against the intrusive thoughts that always tried to insist it’s your fault and you should have chosen differently and you’ve lost him forever. “I -- I recall,” he says weakly. Lucifer just keeps looking at him. So Simeon takes a deep breath, calls up his courage, and starts talking. He tells Lucifer everything, every thought of regret or sorrow or longing that he’s had since that last conversation in the Celestial Realm. He tells Lucifer everything he’s wanted to say to him in all those empty eons of being apart, everything he’s wanted to say to him in all these aching days of being near. He says I’m sorry (I don’t regret the part I played, but I’m sorry anyway). He says I missed you (I love you, I missed you). And then he says nothing when Lucifer raises a hand to stop him, his other hand over his mouth and his cheeks tingeing pink and his eyes bright and wet with something that could be joy or sorrow or both. And then Lucifer embraces him, and he says nothing at all because his breath is caught in his throat and his temple is pressed against Lucifer’s jaw and his nose is touching the high collar of Lucifer’s uniform shirt, and Lucifer is saying, “I missed you, too.”

enjoying my writing? read more -> [AO3] [masterlist]

[deluweil]

So this is a way Way overdue prompt that I got ages ago, but didn't have the time or muse-cooperation to write.

But I finally managed to write it!!

The prompt was given to me by the lovely @coffeeflavoredcookies : Chris all snuggled up to Buck as he tells him bedtime stories with Eddie standing at the door looking at them fondly.

This is fluff all the way, hope you like it ❣

-

The house was dimly lit when he got back, at this point Christopher would have usually already been in bed - post bedtime story.

But Buck has been staying the last few days with them after getting hurt on a call. Nothing too bad, mild concussion, some bruised ribs and a now relocated shoulder still stuck in a sling, so things aren't exactly on the normal side.

Buck had trouble understanding Eddie’s insistence that he stays with them, not wanting to be a burden (earning him an eye-roll from Eddie) and reminded him that he shouldn’t have to look after a grown-ass man while having an actual child of his own to take care of, (which resulted in Eddie calling Christopher and asking him, on speaker, what he thought of Buck staying with them for the next few days. Christopher cheered and Buck glared at Eddie, mouthing ‘traitor’ at him.)

The thing is, Buck seems to be unable to understand that whenever he’s hurt, physically or emotionally or just generally off-balance, Eddie is thrown to a loop right with him. Eddie would rather have him near and safe than wonder how he is, if he’s sleeping, eating - taking care of himself.

Back when his leg was crushed, so close to losing Shannon, Eddie was very close to saying to hell with Ali and then Maddie and just take him over to their place.

But Buck wasn't his to keep back then, and to be honest he's not his now, but Ali is long gone and Maddie is super pregnant, giving Eddie the best excuse to bundle him into his truck and take him home.

Sore and tired, Buck mostly slept, crashing on the couch, no matter how many times Eddie tried to get him to crash in the master bedroom, at least during the day.

Eddie got used to returning home from work to find Christopher sitting in the living room either doing his homework or playing or watching TV while Buck slept on the couch. Sometimes Christopher could be found nestled to Buck's side as they both nodded off watching some nature documentary.

Eddie has an album in his phone containing multiple pictures of his boys together. He will never get tired of snapping pictures of them, moments frozen in time, forever.

Eddie took his shoes off at the door and dropped his bag next to them. He showered at the station so he wouldn't waste time with Christopher in favor of washing the day off, he quickly rinsed his hands with soup, a habit left from crazed Covid days, then went in search of his boys.

The house was quiet, and the normally occupied couch was empty. Eddie made his way to Christopher’s room, already recognizing Buck’s low gravel voice, reading what sounded like “I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew”, Buck got Christopher the book a couple of weeks prior to his injury.

He told Christopher that Maddie used to read it to him when he was younger. They read it so many times, that both of them knew it by heart at one point. This is the first time he got to read it to him, if Eddie is not mistaken.

Eddie quietly made his way to the bedroom and stopped to lean on the door frame, taking in the sight in front of him. Christopher was lying in bed snuggled up against Buck’s uninjured side, he was already fast asleep, but Buck kept reading quietly leaning against the headboard.

“Then I dreamed I was sleeping on billowy billows

Of soft silk and satin marshmallow-stuffed pillows.

I dreamed I was sleeping in Solla Sollew,

On the banks of the beautiful River Wah-Hoo,

Where they never have troubles. At least very few.”

Eddie was so caught up in the cute picture presented before him, that he hadn't noticed Buck’s stopped reading and turned welcoming eyes on him, “Hey Eds.” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Hey Buck.” Eddie greeted back with a smile, slowly making his way inside, gently detangling Christopher from Buck to lay him properly on the pillow, and freeing Buck to rise and stretch carefully.

The blonde nodded gratefully at his friend, with a last look down at Christopher, he smiled and left Eddie to tuck Christopher in safely and say goodnight. Eddie’s eyes followed Buck as he left the room, making sure he’s steady on his feet and also because he couldn’t really look away.

When Buck was out and on his way to the living room Eddie turned around, pressed a kiss to Christopher’s forehead, turned on the nightlight and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Eddie noted Buck’s absence in the living room and followed the sounds to the kitchen, standing at the door, he inquired “Should you be without your sling?”

"Honestly, no." Buck admitted with a sheepish smile, "But my neck is killing me and doing everything one handed is driving me crazy." He complained, handing Eddie a beer and leaned back against the counter while drinking the Gatorade he started earlier.

“At least you’re not drinking beer.” Eddie rolled his eyes. Buck scoffed “I wanted to, Christopher said no.” he smiled at Eddie’s laugh.

“Sounds about right.” Eddie nodded. “Did Carla make dinner?”

Buck shook his head, “No, she had to leave early, I told her I got this.”

“Tell me you ordered dinner.” Eddie demanded.

“There are waffles and Eggs in the microwave for you.” Was Buck’s sole reply.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Eddie protested with an exasperated look.

“I have been resting, Edmundo!” Buck rolled his eyes, “And I’ll go back to resting now that your kid is fed, ready for his day tomorrow and has fallen asleep in his own bed for a change.” Buck retorted and was about to move past Eddie when the latter grabbed the wrist of his good arm and turned him around, bringing him flush against Eddie’s body.

Faces a hairbreadth away from each other, Buck met Eddie’s eyes with a curious look, “You gonna teach me to dance Eds?”

“I thought you already knew how to dance, Ev.” Eddie replied with a soft smirk, voice barely beyond a murmur.

“Hmm.. So wha..” Buck didn’t finish the rest of the sentence because Eddie’s lips were on his, and the finally in his head was so loud, it took him a second to sigh contentedly and kiss back.

Eddie’s hands strayed to Buck’s waist bringing him even closer as he maneuvered them carefully out of the kitchen and into the living room, stopping when the back of his knees hit the couch, his palms framing Buck’s face with one last kiss before breaking apart, chuckling at Buck’s protesting whine.

“What was that for?” Buck asked as Eddie rearranged the pillows on the couch before situating himself with his back to one side and reached to gently pull Buck down so he could lie back on Eddie’s broad chest, framed between his stretched forward legs.

Buck went pretty easily, not even questioning Eddie’s tactile display, it’s been known to happen, it just didn’t usually start with a kiss. Buck turned his head to one side looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes, Eddie’s brown eyes were soft and fond, Buck couldn’t help but smile back at him when Eddie offered him a grin.

Before Buck could open his mouth and ask again what’s going on, Eddie wrapped a long arm across Buck’s broad chest and threaded the fingers of his other hand with Buck’s, resting them on Buck’s stomach. “I’m done overlooking the pink elephant in the room.”

“Is that a veiled reference of your dislike for that shirt?” Buck quipped, squeezing Eddie’s hand reassuringly.

“That too.” Eddie played along, he really did hate that shirt, but Buck kept insisting it defined his muscles, which it did, but literally most of his size-down shirts already did that. “But also because coming home to the sight of you and Christopher every night, was pretty much wearing me down.”

Buck’s face broke into a smile that was a complicated mix of self-consciousness and contentedness, which Eddie found adorable, “So what broke you tonight?” Buck asked, bringing Eddie out of his reverie “I mean, it was a pretty standard evening in the Diaz household.” He pointed out with a teasing smile.

“You made sure Christopher fell asleep in his own bed.” Eddie said, chin resting on the top of Buck’s head gently.

“Well, It felt like some normalcy was needed.” Buck replied, his voice soft. “Both of us injured and out of commission in the short span of five months seemed to be taking a toll.”

“And the fact that you’re the one who managed to find a way to stir him back into the right direction is what broke me, I guess.” Eddie admired quietly, “That, and the cute picture you two presented when I got into the room.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple who was blushing endearingly.

The moment was broken by an exhausted yawn from Buck, “Sorry, been a long day, and you’re too comfortable.” he accused jokingly.

“Bed?” Eddie suggested.

“You sure?” Buck asked, it’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before but this was semi-new territory. “I've already bonded with the couch, I’m good sleeping out here until we figure this out.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Bed.” he determined with a growl.

Buck chuckled amusedly as he rose carefully to his feet along with Eddie, “Caveman.” he teased.

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, “brat.” he retorted, pecking Buck’s lips before taking his hand and leading him to the master-bedroom.

***

That's it :) I hope you like it!! 💖💖

ps. That book Buck is reading to Christopher is a story my dad used to read to me and my sisters when we were youngers, we all know it by heart, to this very day. 🤗💕

[calamitysshatteredson]

[ GET TO KNOW YOUR WRITING PARTNER! ]

Knowing your writing partners can potentially make writing together a lot easier. Repost, don’t reblog.

NAME: Orin, but I tend to have a lost of angst-oriented nicknames and sometimes just “YOU!” so...

PRONOUNS: They/them for the sake of ease.  Both because I have never had much of a preference and because not everyone in the world is comfortable with “I just use whatever’s funniest at the time.“

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Tumblr IMs when they work.  ...So guess what happens a lot.

NAME OF MUSE(S): Sephiroth.  ...No last name.  Usually.  (There is also a Prompto and a Noctis buuuuut activity’s sparse everywhere at the moment, so.)

EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG: This blog?  Since 2015.  How long have I been writing Sephiroth?  Haaaaaaaa, oh, much... much longer.  Please don’t make me try and do math.

BEST EXPERIENCE: I don’t know how I could possibly choose.  Every partner’s magnificently unique, you know?  I really enjoy that I can have ten threads of the same basic scenario and ten completely different paths.  There’s fun and heartrending and “what even was that” and many, many verses that just kind of flashed into being with one dumb “What if...”

RP PET PEEVES: Used to be the folks who’d insist that RP should be a structured thing that you must make time for and must keep up with and must treat a certain way, but I notice... the entire community has pretty much decided to remind them that this is a hobby.  A beloved one, but just... I don’t even treat my work like that, I’m sure as hell not gonna treat my limited free time that way.  Good job sticking to doing it your own way, folks.

MUSE PREFERENCES FOR ANGST / FLUFF / SMUT: Yes.  Just, yes.  Generally it’s angst or fluff or fluff that becomes angst because I am me.  Smut tends to take a lot more effort and energy, and this muse... he picky af.  And a little dumb, attraction-wise, but nevermind.

PLOTS OR MEMES: All of the above and then some.  Sometimes a reply is just a reply, sometimes it... continuously destroys all of us for many months.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Whatever works for what’s being written.  I’ll either write something I feel is too short or I’ll write several more paragraphs than I intended, there is no middle ground.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Usually night when it’s quiet... and I have energy... and the mental ability to do it... and feel physically okay enough to try... and--  Yeah, “when I can” is the best answer.  Not as often as I’d like but I’m finally settling into things I’ve been wanting to get back to forever so I won’t complain.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE: ...Oh hey look at the time, better get this queued.

TAGGED BY STOLEN FROM: @withoutanumber FEEL FREE TO STEAL.

[phoenixdnasty]

The Problem with Season Five

this is already going to have a lot of you in the replies yelling at me. obviously, massive SPOILERS for s5 of she ra and the princesses of power if you haven't already seen it.

okay, so She Ra is definitely a kids' show, but it has a lot of themes aimed towards an older audience: abuse, war, found family, destiny and knowing who you are. I loved She Ra because it made me feel empowered, made me feel seen. after this last season, however, I don't feel the same. I will, however, talk about what it did well.

What She-Ra s5 did RIGHT

I very much enjoyed seeing the character development for most characters come to the forefront here. For example, SW returned to her original motivations. When she lived in Mystacor with the other sorcerers, her thirst for power was borne of a desire to fight the Horde. When she was rejected, then she chose to do what she did. We see a return to that in s5, where she takes a stand against Prime by enlisting Castaspella to stop her if she tries to take any power for herself. She ends up just wanting to help, to do what she can, which was excellent. Glimmer, Bow and a bunch of other characters are given some love here as well. I especially enjoyed seeing Bow and Mermista take on leadership positions in the absence of Adora; it was an excellent look into another facet of their personalities.

Character interactions in non-serious moments were, for the most part, good. Swift Wind and Scorpia being bros was not something I knew I needed but something I want more of. Netossa basically being Batman and knowing the weaknesses of everyone around her was great and an iconic scene. Bow thinking Catra was super adorable was also an excellent moment in the season and I could watch 9 more seasons worth of that. Something that surprised me was Entrapta's "not good with people"-ness being talked about and addressed by the other characters and explained by her; I wasn't sure if that was ever gonna be talked about in the show.

Side note: thank you Crew-Ra for giving Scorpia her own musical number, it was great.

Prime was also a fascinating enemy. He's this sort of religious figure, this world destroyer who's been around for seemingly centuries, maybe much longer. He's cold, calm and calculated. I've seen it pointed out that he's everything Hordak is not. He's manipulative, knows body language and facial expressions, and has a perfect grasp on how to get exactly what we wants. My favorite aspect of this season was the hive mind control. This was a very interesting plotline to me, and I thoroughly enjoyed HiveMind!Catra as well as Wrong Hordak. I loved the idea of pitting allies against each other and the angst and emotional weight that carried.

Going to use that point to segue into one of this season's strengths: Netossa and Spinnerella. Wow! We get a chance to see what a healthy queer/wlw relationship looks like, and two background characters get major upgrades in relevance. Two diversity points for one being a big girl and for the couple being interracial (in our world anyway), but diversity is the norm is SPOP and we might have to stan forever. It was extremely heartwarming and resulted in one of my favorite scenes to ever show up in animated media (one which I'll be stealing to add to my vows if I ever get married):

It was beautiful and I will absolutely never shut up about it.

There were some beautiful moments this season!! Absolutely gorgeous. A highlight for me cinematically was episode 5, which will probably bother some people when I say what I will below. I will be honest, the new transformation sequence and the scene of Adora holding Catra as She-Ra was powerful and had my heart pounding with excitement. It was awesome.

On the other hand...

What She-Ra s5 did WRONG

I'm going to break my issues with the final season down one by one, starting with the narrative of abuse.

From the very beginning, abuse is the most prevalent theme in the show. Prime (HP) abuses Hordak, Hordak abuses SW, SW abuses both Adora and Catra, and Catra abuses Adora. I liked the Crew-Ra tackling this issue. Abused people abuse people, right?

Why was everyone redeemed in s5? (Well, except for Prime, he was blasted away by She-Ra.) Hordak was given a blank slate to start over, even though he was the reason Etheria was war torn for at least a few decades; SW was given a hero's sacrifice, where at the end of her life she finally decides to do some good; and Catra is immediately forgiven for doing one good thing and all trust in placed in her simultaneously.

Hordak and H. Prime as abusers are pretty cut and dry; at no point are they ever remorseful for their actions, except for Hordak in the case of being abusive to Entrapta. SW is much more of an interesting character to analyze, because her motivations are geared directly towards herself. This seems to change in the final season, when she returns to her original motivations from back when she was in Mystacor. Defending her home. In her pursuit of the power needed to defend Etheria from the Horde, she fell into darkness. She began to abuse Adora and Catra.

One could argue that the hero's sacrifice she was given for redemption was unneeded. SW was an individual addicted to power. She was manipulative, using fake affection as a means to control. She didn't deserve a redemption. The only evidence we have of this supposed change of heart is a line to Castaspella: "...and stop me if I try to take the power for myself." Okay... so, SW, um... what changed your mind? Was it Micah? Because at no point has he forgiven you. In fact, there should've been much more hostility between the two of you (which is a point I'll address in a moment). In all honesty, the relationship between SW and Micah reminds me of what should've happened between Catra and Glimmer, or Catra and Scorpia.

And Catra... My problem with her story is that she was kinda just... forgiven? instantly. no repercussions, no long talks about feelings, no... consequences. Catra got the girl and that was it. A small list of things she did over 4 seasons, in no certain order:

Scratched what was implied were scarring marks down Adora's back

Was the cause of Angella's "death" #angelladeservedbetter

Kidnapped both Glimmer and Bow

Opened a world-ending portal all to ensure Adora failed

Also pushed Adora into what looked like an abyss

Verbally abused Scorpia into leaving

Wanted to pit Corrupted!She-Ra against her friends (dehumanization)

Got Entrapta sent to Beast Island, a deadly place no one ever returns from

And this is just the stuff off the top of my head. We all knew Catra was going to get a redemption, but this one was completely undeserved. She apologized to Adora and Entrapta. Two very short apologies for what canonly was at minimum, months of abuse, manipulation, intent to kill (which is literally mentioned by Adora) and general disregard for anyone or anything but revenge for something that didn't even deserve it. The entire cast should've been outraged. Glimmer in particular had a very big reason not to ever forgive Catra ("I'm not losing another parent!"), but it was all glossed over.

The biggest issue with season 5 was the abuse plotline completely dropped. You can't spend 4 seasons explaining how the cycle of abuse affects you and everyone around you... and shelve it. And we know the reason why it was shelved.

Let me first preface this with the fact that I am super happy we got representation. As a queer nblw who grew up feeling alone, it's so good to see things changing in media. An onscreen wlw kiss on a kids' show is groundbreaking and I'm very happy that She-Ra broke this barrier.

But all representation is not good representation. Catra and Adora is not a good representation of a healthy relationship.

Catra is shown throughout the series to be very unstable. This is even prevalent in season 5, when Adora "chooses SW" over Catra, she runs away. This breaks Adora's heart. The last thing that Catra needs is a relationship when she hasn't even confronted the issues that she has. There's no healing done in season 5, no therapy as the fandom loved to meme about, no long talks about forgiveness and the hurt caused. There's no callback to any of the pain and anguish that Catra put Adora through. Catra may love Adora, but if there is no healing done for the both of them, their relationship will fail. They will fall into the same cycle again. Adora will do something Catra doesn't like, Catra will do what she's done for all of the show, and it will repeat until something breaks.

I'm going to talk about the implications of the ending we have now, and feel free to argue with me.

She-Ra is a kids' show. Abuse is one of the main themes. Catra is shown to be an abuser. Here's what we are teaching younger audiences:

a. if you love someone enough, maybe they'll change

b. everyone deserves a second chance

c. your abuser will change as long as you're loyal and never stop trying to love them

d. things someone does to hurt you mean nothing in the wake of forgiveness

e. if someone who hurt you changes suddenly and wants to be back in your life, you should let them back in

Character interactions for the things that mattered (plot threads from previous seasons, general personality clashes, etc) were absent this season, in the moments where they mattered the most. (The best three in my opinion were Scorpia and Perfuma, the BFS inviting Catra in, and Mermista and Entrapta.) Glimmer and Adora should've had their time to talk. Scorpia should've gotten to say her piece to Catra. SW and Micah should've interacted more. Micah and Glimmer should've gotten more than an introduction!

I'm not going to get into how the entire final season was wrapped around making Catra and Adora get together (a fundamental writing no-no; it never ends up working), or how it was bad writing. I just want everyone to think critically for one moment. There are so many other glaring issues in what was, overall, a stellar show. If there was another season, or some mini episodes where the characters talk out their problems and past transgressions against each other, then I could excuse She-Ra. But I doubt we're going to get any of that. So I won't.

[baekhypnotized]

daddy’s little boy

ღ Genre: fluff, family au, daddy baekhyun

ღ Pairing: Baekhyun, You and Hyunnie

ღ Summary: Baekhyun was busy with work when suddenly you came with your son to surprise him. 

ღ A/N: I was inspired with the preview of Baekhyun with a small kid during his schedule with TirTir!! This prompt came in my mind and I can’t handle myself from the fluffness so I decide to write it!! Hope you guys enjoy it!! 

ღ  Word count: 3,408 words

It had been days since Baekhyun came home late almost every day because he’s busy with his schedules. He will leave the house early in the morning and come home when it already passes the bedtime. Why? It was because he feels really bad these days in which he didn’t spend much time with his son, Dohyun. And the only way for him to bask in the guiltiness, he would try to avoid leaving and coming back home when he’s widely awake. As he couldn’t bear to look into his sparkling and adorable eyes that will make him weak. 

On the other hand, Dohyun is such a cheerful and bubbly boy just like his daddy. The cute smile never fails to appear across his face that will make his cheeks bulge into mochis. But, being the only child and baby in the family makes him feel sad knowing that Baekhyun spends less time with him now. Although he was told many times that Baekhyun will try hard to complete all his works fast to play with him.

But within these days too, Dohyun acts pretty much upset because he missed Baekhyun too much. You couldn’t do anything, even when you tried to cheer him up, the same pouty lips will come out as he’s demanding for his daddy. 

Baekhyun’s name doesn’t stop from leaving this little child’s lips. Even when Baekhyun called him during his short break, Dohyun insisted to stay silent most of the time and simply stared at the phone’s screen that revealed Baekhyun's face. Then you finally realise that even though a lot of people say that most of the sons would like to be pampered by their mothers but it’s wrong. Because right now, Dohyun missed his daddy so much. 

A new day finally begins as the sun rays slowly penetrate through the blinds to lit up the master bedroom. You slowly toss around to check on Dohyun, who’s still silently asleep and you see that Baekhyun is finally awake from his deep sleep too. He abruptly sits up with his eyes slightly open, also with his messy bedridden hair. He rubs the back of his nape a few times as he yawns softly. You are tittering quietly seeing how cute he looks especially when he wakes up. 

Baekhyun’s doing nothing except sitting and when he begins to blink his eyes a few times, he turns towards his side as a soft smile creeps on his face when he sees you looking at him. “Good morning, babe,” He greets, bending forward to give you a short peck on your lips before he kisses your crown. You simply hum, turning your body sideways as you support your head with your elbow propping your hand. 

“How’s your sleep?” You ask him with such an endearing tone. A clear yet soft sigh can be heard coming from him when Baekhyun threads his hair with his fingers. He doesn’t need to reply to me when I already got the answer to my question.  

Then, Baekhyun faces Dohyun who’s sleeping at the middle of the bed with his parted lips. He brings his fingers to caress Dohyun’s cheek softly. As your heart feels so full seeing the moment of your husband and son, the expression that Baekhyun gives, makes you worry. 

“Hey… You okay, baby? Is there anything that you want to share with me?” You place your hand on his shoulder and pat it a few times. He just shakes his head, keeping his stare locked on the small figure. 

“I just-,” Baekhyun stops for a second, caressing Dohyun’s hair before he gathers all his strength to continue, “I felt so bad right now because I’ve been busy lately and when he keeps on saying that he’s missing me, it hurts me so much, baby…” He softly sighs as his tears start brimming in his eyes. “I promised to him that I’m going to spend much time with him after my job is done but he seems…” His voice begins to choke a bit, “disappointed.”

“Baekhyun…” You sit up with your legs crossed as you face him. Cupping his cheeks with your hands and you say, “Look at me.” He slowly moves his gaze to look at your eyes and you can see how his eyes are glassy with tears. “He will never be disappointed with you. He understands that you’re sacrificing everything for the sake of us.” You brush his cheek with your thumb, grazing it in circles. 

He doesn’t speak and instead, he keeps his lips tightly shut. “Dohyun is really proud of you and yes, although he’s longing for you, he will never stop loving you because you’re his father.” You try to comfort him from all his worries and when Baekhyun’s lips stretch into a thin smile, you lean closer to give him a kiss. “We love you, daddy. Always and forever will.” 

Baekhyun softens when the word ‘daddy’ comes out from your mouth. He nuzzles his nose with yours that causes you to giggle softly as it tickles. And again, he seals the lips back again before Dohyun starts to toss and turn, which makes the two of you abruptly pull away from the kiss. Both of you are grateful that the rustling sound that you both made didn’t wake him up. 

He stretches his body towards the little boy, he caresses his hair before planting a kiss on the top of his head. Then, he nuzzles his nose to inhale the sweet heavenly scent of his baby and once again Baekhyun kisses Dohyun’s small lips. “I promise that I’ll be home very soon, okay? Hyunnie gonna be a good boy to mommy, right?” He lightly taps the cute button nose that makes the boy scrunch it. “Daddy loves you so much, baby.”

Hearing him whispering to your son causes you to tear up a bit. Despite his hectic and pack schedule, you know that Baekhyun couldn’t stop thinking about you and the little bundle of joy. 

“I’m gonna have a quick shower because I have one last shooting today.”

I was about to get off from the bed when suddenly Baekhyun stops me as he asks, “Where are you going?”

“Making you breakfast. Why? You can’t just leave the house with an empty stomach, Baek. You’re gonna get caught with a tummy ache. Let me do at least waffles or pancakes for you, mhm?” You insist on doing it since it’s your job as his wife but as predicted, he once again stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, okay? I’ll just grab some coffee and sandwiches on my way. You don’t want to wake up our little monster, right?” Baekhyun smiles, his tone was soft with his eyes expressing such an endearing gaze. Without trying to fight with him, you comply as he comes closer to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, your hand placed on top of his. 

Baekhyun pulls away from you and before he’s going to leave to take a shower, he leans his body to give one last kiss on Dohyun’s kiss. But this time, he almost wakes him up. Being such an alert daddy, he quickly makes hushes sound and at the same time, he pats the little boy’s small bum. Dohyun lets out a faint whine as he tosses around on the bed. You were afraid if he would wake up in such a bad mood but grateful that your husband manages to calm him down back to sleep. 

You couldn’t stop smiling the entire time seeing him patting your son even though he’s already late for his work. Only a few tasks left and he is finally able to come home with such a delightful smile on his face. Knowing that the two of his precious gifts will safely be in his embrace because, at the end of the day, the three of you are gonna be together, that was called home.

Dohyun woke up when Baekhyun’s already gone for work. You were folding the clean clothes when the little one finally woke up with such messy hair, with his tiny hand rubbing his eye. Chuckling over the adorable sight of your son, you waited for him to wake up fully when the first thing he did was searching around the big master bedroom, searching for someone. Deep inside, you knew he was searching for him. He then crawled towards you, landing his head on your thighs. 

You caress his hair from covering his forehead. “Good morning my little monster!!” Your hands start to tickle Dohyun’s tummy and attack his face with endless kisses. The boy is literally giggling loudly, his face shines the brightest as he’s trying to push away your hands from him. You can hear him calling for you in between his waves of laughter but you insist to continue. He even tried to get away from you but you manage to get a hold of him. “You’re not gonna run away from mommy, Hyunnie!!” 

When he started to feel tired, you let him go with giving one last kiss on his sweaty forehead. “Now you’re stinky, baby. Let’s have a bath, shall we?” Dohyun definitely understands the cue for taking a bath because he loves to play around in the water. And most of the time, Baekhyun would accompany and play along with him. Then, you lift him in the air and carry him to the bathroom for the morning bath session. 

Right after you help him wear his clothes, the two of you went downstairs and decided to spend the free time in the living room while you’re waiting for the right time to prepare lunch. The television is airing Hyunnie’s favourite cartoon series and you join him too. He sits on the playmat, toys in his hands but his eyes glued on the screen and you, on the other hand, laying on the couch as you amuse seeing how focused your son is watching the tv. 

Watching Dohyun reminds you of Baekhyun. What is he doing? Has he grabbed his lunch? Is he doing well with his shooting? You suddenly miss and worry about him at the same time. He said he would text you but he hasn’t replied to yours. Suddenly, something pops up in your mind just like your bulb lights up instantly. 

“Hyunnie,” You softly call the smaller one that causes him to tilt his head to look at you. Sitting up from your lying position, you pat your thigh a few times to invite Dohyun to sit on your lap as he obeys. He waits patiently for you to speak, tilting his head sideways curiously. “Baby, do you miss daddy?” The boy nods his head a few times, his lips turn into a pout. You tap the button of his nose lightly, “Then, how about we go and visit him today? Do you want to meet daddy?” His pupils dilate bigger, sparkling with cuteness overload.

“Should we make rice rolls for daddy too? Will Hyunnie help mommy?” 

“Yes yes!!” He chants, making you pepper his cheek with kisses. Giggling softly, you pinch his nose lightly as you pat a few times on his bums. 

“Let’s go and make some food for daddy!” You peck his lips before the two of you head towards the kitchen. You ask Dohyun to sit at the dining table first as he sits on his own chair. After giving him some snacks and banana milk to distract himself, you start preparing the ingredients for the rice rolls since you want to prevent the boy from getting into a small accident during the preparation. 

After everything is all prepared, you bring them to the front where Dohyun is already clapping in cheerfulness because you’re pretty sure he’s excited to help you. Especially when he knows the two of you going to visit his daddy. He helps you to arrange and roll them, also in decorating the lunch box. “Hyunnie, which lunch box do you want to use? A cute doggie or panda?” You show him the two different designs of lunchboxes. He has his lips turn into a pout when he’s thinking before he points out his index finger at the printed lunch box with dog design. Dipping for a kiss on his chubby cheek, you let him decorate it with the rice rolls that you both made.

Once you confirm with Baekhyun’s manager that you guys can pay a surprise visit, Manager Noh tells you the details about their whereabouts. The two of you are pretty excited to meet him and right after the meals for lunch are ready, you quickly bring the little boy to change his clothes before you change yours. Throughout the changing process, he couldn’t stop telling you that he has many stories to tell Baekhyun.

“Mommy, Hyunnie wants to tell daddy about a big dinosaur!!”

“Mommy, mommy!! Daddy loves Hyunnie’s rice rolls, right?”

“Mommy! Hyunnie wants daddy.”

Seems like the smaller one is super excited to meet his daddy. So as you.

“Hyunnie,” You help him unbuckle his seatbelt, lifting him from his kid’s seat as you put him on the ground. “Daddy doesn’t know we’re here, okay? Once you found him, give him the biggest hug and kisses, okay baby?” Dohyun nods his head with an elated face. You kiss his forehead before you continue, “also, Hyunnie needs to behave too. Hyunnie is mommy’s and daddy’s good boy, right?” And again he bobs. 

“Mommy faster!! Hyunnie wants to meet daddy!!” You’re about to lock the car when your son already pulls your hand to enter the building. Nonchalantly, you chuckle in amusement and know how Dohyun’s anticipation is similar to Baekhyun. Your boys have low patience in waiting.

Dohyun’s hand is securely in your hold as you have the lunchbox on the other hand. Both of you stride into the lift, bringing you guys to the floor where Baekhyun is. The excitement that you have right now is quite the same as the little boy. This is the first time you’re doing a surprise visit in the entire time you know Baekhyun and it’s extra special since you’re bringing your firstborn together with you. 

As the two of you arrive at the venue, there are quite an amount of people in the spacious room. Lights every corner, advance cameras too and you can see Baekhyun’s standing as he poses in the middle of the room. He looks elegant and charming every time he strictly focuses on his work. He exudes dominance and cuteness at the same time. And it’s like destiny, Baekhyun’s wearing a blue shirt with black pants, matching with a darker cardigan and Dohyun wears the same colour too. 

You guys sneak in quietly through the staff, hoping that Baekhyun wouldn’t see the two of you. After greeting Manager Noh, he gives us the cue to butt into the photo shooting session, in which Dohyun immediately runs towards his daddy with his cute little feet. 

“Daddy!!!” Dohyun calls him with such a loud voice, his arms spread wide as he’s already giggling in happiness. Shock appears on Baekhyun’s face but in a split of a second, he squats and ready to invite his son. Dohyun comes running into his embrace as Baekhyun hugs him tightly, peppering his face with endless kisses. The little boy’s giggles brighten up the whole place, making everyone witness such a loving moment between a father and a son.

“Hey my little champion,” He mutters and pecks Dohyun’s lips. “Oh my, daddy misses you too much, Hyunnie.”

“Hyunnie misses you too, daddy!” The little boy has his hands cup Baekhyun’s cheeks. Baekhyun smiles fondly, connecting their foreheads together before he kisses the boy’s nose. 

“Did you come here with mommy, baby? Where is she?” Baekhyun asks his son. Dohyun turns around and points towards you who was standing with the staff with such teary eyes. You lift your hand slightly, whispering a ‘hi’ to him. He chuckles with so much love and once again, he plants a kiss on Dohyun’s cheeks before he cups them. 

“Hyunnie made rice rolls for daddy!!” Dohyun informs him. 

“Really? No wonder daddy smells something delicious!! Should we go and eat with mommy too?” He asks as he receives multiple nods from the boy. Baekhyun holds Dohyun’s hand and the two of them walk towards you. Manager Noh told you that he’s almost finished with his task so the three of you are able to spend some time during his break. 

“Hello, mommy,” Baekhyun greets, slipping his hand around your waist as he plants a quick yet passionate kiss on your lips that make you smile in contentment.

“Let’s eat! We brought lunch for you too,” The three of you pace into an empty room where Baekhyun would get ready for his shooting. You place the lunchbox on the table as Baekhyun settles down on the couch with Dohyun’s on his lap. The kid doesn’t stop clinging with his daddy and you can see how much he’s been missing Baekhyun. 

The moment you open the lid, Baekhyun awes in astonishment, “Wow! Hyunnie did all of this for daddy?” Baekhyun looks at him as Dohyun nods with such a sweet smile. He picks up the chopsticks and gives a bite, showing an amaze and yummy tone to indicate how scrumptious the rice rolls are. The little boy already has his hands clap because he’s happy. You can witness such an adorable moment of your favourite boys, feeding each other. 

“Mommy, say Aaahh!!” Dohyun instructs you while Baekhyun prepares to feed you. You comply as your husband feeds you with the rice roll. While eating, Dohyun literally tells him everything that he’s been wanting to say and Baekhyun listens to him wholeheartedly. You also immerse yourself in the little boy’s stories. 

“Daddy’s going to bring Hyunnie and mommy for a holiday! Does Hyunnie want to follow?” Baekhyun questions him.

Dohyun’s expression lit up brightly with a wide smile spread across his face, “Yes yes!! Hyunnie loves holidays!!” Baekhyun leans to smash the boy’s cheek with ticklish kisses. Dohyun tries to run away from him and your husband places him on the ground before he leaves the two of you to go somewhere.

“How are you, mommy?” He slides his fingers to intertwine with yours, you place your head comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Just good. How about you? Is everything going well? I heard that you’re almost done with it,” You reply and he simply nods his head. After a few minutes being alone with Baekhyun, you start to worry about Dohyun. Trying to peek your head from the room, you suddenly chuckle in disbelief as Baekhyun looks at you curiously.

“Why are you chuckling, babe?” He asks as you show him towards the crowd where you can see your little boy is surrounded by the staff, probably conversing with them using his overload cuteness charm. Baekhyun elicits a soft chuckle too. 

“Seems like your son is such a charmer.”

You scoff when you listen to his statement, “His your doppelganger and that’s mean he got that trait from you, daddy.” You giggle, answering him with a playful and mocking tone. He glares at you as he pinches your waist, causing you to shriek in surprise. The two of you enjoy in the silence, feeling content seeing the little boy having so much fun. Also with the smile that etched on his face when he met Baekhyun. 

“God, I can’t imagine if we have a girl like just look at how attached and clingy our Hyunnie is, especially when you’re not around.” You mutter as Baekhyun grazes your hand with his thumb in circles. “If we have one, I bet she will be sulking with you like forever and you’ll get into trouble to coax the little princess.” 

“Babe.” He calls you and you lift your head upwards to look at him. 

“Since Hyunnie almost turns four…” He murmurs, his other hand safely landed on your thigh that instantly makes you shiver. Then, you can sense that his moving towards you as you’re guessing he tries to hover on top of you. You stop him by placing your hand on his chest, glaring at him before he continues.

“How about we give Hyunnie a younger sibling?” He recommends an idea with a smug smirk on his face.  

Do like or reblog if you like this prompt!! Thank you for reading!! :D

[rpd-rookie]

A Past With Her, A Future With You - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Author’s note: This is a sequel to “Scared of Love, Scared of Time” I decided to write after being reminded of the events of RE6 and a certain Ada Wong. Again I made the reader as generic as possible. I hope you’ll like it. PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon. 

Warning: Angst of course, maybe language. 

               It was a weird cold night for a summer month, nothing the capital had experienced in a while. The storm was raging outside, flooding the green terrace, and huge droplets of rain were pouring loudly against the large patio door.       Legs hanging from the armrest of the confortable leather armchair, you were casually sitting in the living room, half-listening to the awful weather and to the burning wood softly crackling in the modern fireplace, the dying flames gently warming your skin.           You had been reading the same page from your book over and over again for the last twenty minutes or so. The reason behind this sudden monopolizing distraction? Leon sitting on the couch opposite to you, staring at the amber whisky stirring in his crystal glass in silence. Nothing you would have found truly unusual if it hadn’t been for the ice cubes slowly melting in the beverage.             Leon always had been a sucker for a nice glass of old Glenfiddich - though he preferred the term “connoisseur”- always having one glass after dinner. He was not the kind of man to let the fancy liquor be wasted. Ice cubes melted in a thousand dollar whisky, definitely a waste. “Are you okay?” You finally dared ask him.     “Sure.” He surprisingly emptied the glass in a single mouthful. You weren’t used to seeing him do that. You observed him in silence as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed almost soundlessly. You could tell that the events of Lanshiang were still haunting him, probably filling his mind with bloody atrocities he would tell you about only in a few weeks.         But there was something else, something you couldn’t pinpoint in spite of your many tries. And it was worrying you. The last thing you wanted was for Leon to fall in another vicious depression. The last one had already been awful enough.

You closed your book and put it on the black Asian coffee table placed between you and Leon. Soon you approached him and went to stand before him. Your hand cupped his cheek and he looked up at you. He seemed terribly tired and almost sad, guilty even. “What is it? Talk to me.”           “Nothing.” Leon grabbed your hand and kissed it delicately. His dry lips lingered on your fingers for a while before he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to straddle his laps. “Did something happen in China? Something you wanna tell me about?” Leon froze and stared at you with an unmissable confusion. “What do you mean?” In addition to the small panic, his tone was almost harsh and angry but you chose not to react to it. “I don’t know. I… You’ve seemed… different since you came back.” You weighed your words to be sure to find the correct ones; ones that would not vex him and make him push you away. Leon was always thin-skinned and hypersensitive after gruelling missions and you had seen enough of the Lanshiang viral outbreak on national television to know that what happened there must have been very afflicting for him.       “Different?” He repeated, curious to know what you truly meant.       “Distant.” Yes, distant was the word. Since his return from China, Leon had been rejecting your affection on many occasions and had been constantly isolating himself, if not physically then in a bubble you couldn’t manage to penetrate. “I’m not distant.” He shook his head, pretending he did not know what you meant. “I’m just tired. That’s it.”

You stared at him. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the truth was that even if Leon had been back for over two weeks, it was almost as if he was still absent, as if his mind was still in China somehow. He barely smiled at you and when he did, it was nothing like the way he used to smile at you. His kisses were different also, more rare, less tender. And sex … well, sex was non-existent. It was as if everything about Leon was almost deprived of all the affection and the love he used to give you, as if everything that made his feelings for you so beautiful and so pure had been stripped away and replaced by… you didn’t know what exactly but something that felt like your boyfriend was slipping through your fingers like running water.           Shouldn’t it have been the contrary after the beautiful confession you had finally told him before leaving? Shouldn’t Leon be even more in love with you? Shouldn’t your couple be more solid now more than ever? Shouldn’t you be both happy to be reunited again? But more importantly, should you doubt his feelings for you right now?

“Have I done something wrong?” Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the worry slowly setting in your eyes. “No.” He quickly said, wrapping his arms around you. “No, sweetheart. You haven’t done anything.” “Then what is it? Why are you almost avoiding me? What’s going on?” You begged and he gulped, his blue eyes looking down but especially away from you. “Nothing you should worry about.”     “But I am worried. And I want to know.” He sighed, annoyed, before slightly shifting in his seat to grab the bottle of whisky and pour himself another drink that you took from his hand before he could even bring it to his lips. “I want to know.” You repeated as you slammed the glass on the table. “I want to know why you’re like this. I want to know why you barely acknowledge my presence, why you barely touch me, why you refuse to have sex with me.”       “So it’s about sex?” He stared at you right in the eye and you scanned his features, not even able to tell if he was annoyed, weary or just indifferent. Truth was, he looked atrociously blank and it was scaring you. He never looked at you like that. “We can have sex if that’s what you want.” His sudden casualness left you dumbstruck. Speechless, you barely realised Leon’s hands venturing on your naked thighs until they reached the elastic of your underwear and you slapped them away. “What is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t understand him.         “Are you shitting me? You’re the one who just mentioned sex.” He replied with a tone similar to yours. Guess you couldn’t read him the same way he couldn’t read you – or was it ‘refused to’? “You don’t want to get it, do you?” He didn’t answer, staring back at you with the same emptiness as before. You shook your head, exhausted. “Fine. When you want to talk, I’ll be in our room.” You stood up and escaped in the helical stairs without adding another word.

           Leon didn’t join you that night. He even left the apartment, slamming the door loudly on his way out only to return early in the rainy morning, drenched, stumbling and more especially wasted. Curled up in your bed, you chose to ignore him in spite of the many times he almost tripped in the room, telling yourself how miraculous it was that he had been able to find his way back home safely. After he took his wet clothes off, Leon clumsily lied down on the bed and you felt his grave blue eyes upon your figure. “Please forgive me” You did not know if it was the pain in his voice or simply his words that tied your stomach in a knot. But what you knew was that Leon was not asking forgiveness for what happened earlier tonight. He was asking forgiveness for something else, something he was still hiding from you. And yet, you didn’t dare ask him what it was this time, too terrified that the truth would make you lose Leon for real.     Eyes closed, tears forming under your eyelids, you curled yourself into a ball to look for comfort and protection. “Y/N?” You shivered and soon you felt Leon’s cold body spooning you, holding you tight in his strong arms, his nose buried in your hair, his wet hair dripping on you. “Don’t you love me anymore?” The question was like razor blades on your tongue and the short silence that followed it was like a knife in the heart. “Of course I love you.” Leon finally said but despite his sincerity you could tell one thing was missing: warmth. “But …” You continued, persuaded the word was on Leon’s lips and that he was trying to keep it from you. “There’s someone else, isn’t it? Is that what you can’t tell me? That you cheated on me?” He sit up, alarmed. “I didn’t.” His response had been quick and shivering. But there was no anger in it. Leon was not even vexed. “I never will.” He could not see his future without you but he could not see his past without Ada either.      

Ada. Her name had been burning his tongue and his heart like a hot poker since China. He had wanted to tell you about her, about what happened with her, ever since his return. But telling you about Ada was admitting his feelings to himself, feelings he knew would break you and your relationship in millions of pieces. Telling you about Ada was admitting he had failed you, that he had failed your love. And he couldn’t do that you as much as he could not let her go.             The hold she had on him, in spite of all those years of manipulation and games, was scary yet intoxicating. She had him wrapped around her little finger and he couldn’t seem – or want - to escape her. Ada was a part of his past he couldn’t let go, forever sewed to the thread of his life. And he didn’t know how - or if - he could cut her from it.         A long time ago, he thought you would be the one to help him forget about Ada, the one to unstitch her from his heart. You did for a while. You breathed hope and a new love in him, something pure and sincere. In your arms, he dared imagine a bright happy future. He dared imagine the two of you building a home together, growing old together and dying together. He dared imagine you carrying his name and his child – a desire he had never thought he would have. He dared imagine a life with you and without Ada.       But now she was back and with her his feelings for her he thought he had buried deep down his chest years ago. And he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to feel… and for who.     He was lost.    

“Who is she?” Your voice was broken and exhausted as if asking this question had swallowed all your energy. Leon shivered and his silence made turned around to face him. He was looking down at his trembling hands, bracing himself to tell you the truth. “Ada.” He almost chocked on her name and you blocked a sob in your throat that Leon noticed nevertheless. Of course, it was Ada. Who else could it be if not Ada Wong?           A tear formed in Leon’s eyes. He never wanted to hurt you and god knew how much he hated seeing you miserable. But you were miserable and you were miserable because of him. And when he saw you quickly blinking to prevent your tears from falling he grabbed your hand with a firmness that meant ‘Don’t go. Don’t leave me.’ But his hand was freezing, such as the flame of your dying love. “But you’re more important. To me, you mean the world, Y/N”

Once upon a time hearing that would have made you cry of happiness and thank the world for giving you a person like Leon. But tonight, nothing he could say could mattered to you. Tonight, you couldn’t believe him. Ada. Your mind had paused on her name the second Leon had said it. And your heart had broken along with it. Ada. How stupid had you been to believe that you could be the one to replace her in Leon’s heart? How naïve had you been to think there was a possibility for Leon to forget her?   And at that very moment, you told yourself you should have never opened up to Leon. You should not have trusted him with your heart because here it was, shattered and unfixable. Loving Leon Scott Kennedy was a mistake.

You managed to wriggle your hand out of his grip and got up from the bed, wiping your tears away. You wanted to be alone but you knew it was not in Leon’s intention to abandon you in the darkness of the room. You could tell by the way his guilty blue eyes were observing you in silence, waiting for you to say something, anything. Maybe was he even thinking about jumping from the bed to pull you back in his arms as well.     “I want you to leave, please.” You whispered and a tear rolled along Leon’s cheek. That’s not what he hoped to hear. However, he complied and slowly got up from the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” “No. I want you. to leave” You declared, insisting on each segments of the sentence with a firm yet broken tone that stopped Leon in his tracks. You couldn’t be serious? You didn’t mean it? “Y/N” He begged but you ignored him. You couldn’t look at him right now. “You can’t…” He tried to approach you but you brutally stretched out your arm to keep him away from you. “Don’t!” You raised your voice. “Don’t come any closer.” Leon froze, astonished and scared.     “I trusted you.” You cried out, refusing to believe that this was happening to you again, refusing to believe that someone was crushing your heart again.         “I know, sweetheart. I know … I” But you were not listening. You weren’t even hearing him. You didn't want to. Lost in your thoughts. Drowning in your regrets. Seeing the future you had dared imagined slipping away. All that because of a woman you thought was part of Leon’s past.     “I told you I loved you … despite all my fears, despite all my insecurities. I opened up to you because I thought you loved me too and would never ever hurt me.” You cried out, hoping screaming would would make Leon realize he had screwed up, how much he was making you suffer. You hoped screaming would ease the pain. A silly hope. There was no escape from a broken heart, no relief. “And I do! I do love you!” He shouted as loud as you for you to pay attention to him. In vain. But you somehow managed to stop yelling to glare at him with contempt “I was wrong. Trusting you… no loving you was naïve and foolish. Gosh, I wish I had never met you.”

You took an awful delight seeing Leon crumple after hearing those words. But your delight was not enough to fix your heart. You knew that would take months, if not years.     But a question was still burning your lips. “Why wasn’t my love enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

You got no answer. You only had a pair of miserable blue eyes staring at you with pain, begging you to stay. But you couldn’t stay. You deserved better than a half a heart, than a man. “It’s Ada or it’s me, Leon. It can’t be both.”

You can’t let go of your past. Your past made you. It built you. You can’t forget it, despite all your tries. Your past means that you have lived. But can you let go of your future? Can you let go of a life you never lived? A life you desired? Apparently you can. But not without pain. Not without one heart or two shattered on the floor among of the pieces of hope you had gathered through the years.

[chasingforeverandaday]

Can I ask for #23 from the fluff writing prompts please? “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (boy/girl/person) I barely know.” I mean, it’s just screaming gendrya at me! Thank you!

Well, how does some Regency era AU sound? This one ended up a full on one shot, because I fell down a rabbit hole real fast. Also I got to write Robb, which was super fun because I never write Robb. He may be a bit out of character, but I feel like if any of the Stark siblings would understand Arya’s conflict of love and duty, it would absolutely be Robb.

half agony, half hope

There are times that Gendry Waters thinks his life would be so much simpler if he’d ever actually learned how to say no to Miss Arya Stark, sister to the Lord of Winterfell. He can stall her in her impulsivities yes, or can sometimes talk her around to his point of view on a matter, but straight up denying her when she looks up at him with those big grey eyes and the pout he always wishes to kiss from her lips?

Stronger men than him would capitulate without question.

Stronger men have.

So when she barges into his smithy one June morning, he steels himself for whatever new (potentially scandalous) misadventure she has in mind for them. But the stricken look on her face as she quietly requests that he close up early and meet her in his personal quarters ignites a panic in his belly, and he hustles the other customers out as quickly as he can after she leaves.

Door locked and forge cooled for the day, he hurries through washing up and finds her in his rooms, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. He can see the exact moment she notices his presence, as her head whips around to his and her face crumples. Terror seizes in his veins and he crosses the room in two strides to pull her into his arms.

She doesn’t fight him, just lets herself be held for a moment before wrapping her arms around his waist so tightly he thinks she’ll never let go. A shudder passes through her slim frame, then one hand reaches up to bend his neck downwards, her mouth seeking his.

Gods know he’d be happy to kiss her forever, but something must have shaken Arya badly for her to show up unannounced and ask him to abandon his work. Pulling away to lean his forehead against hers, he asks, “Love, what’s wrong?

A tiny voice he’s never associated with Arya Stark whispers, “How quickly can you be ready to leave?”

“What?” Utterly bewildered, he pushes her back farther so he can read her face, but she just burrows her face into his neck, clinging onto him like a limpet. Cautiously, he moves them to his narrow bed, sitting on the edge as she falls into his lap, all the while never letting him go.

She looks up at him then, eyes a little harder, a little more sure as she takes his hands in hers. “Run away with me. Gendry, please, we need to go, and it needs to be as soon as possible.”

“I don’t understand, I thought we had more time, that I had more time to…” Prove myself worthy of you, let myself learn to let you go, something, anything but be forced to watch you choose between me and your family.

“My mother’s invited suitors from houses Frey, Dayne, and Arryn to Winterfell, and I heard her tell Robb earlier that she won’t be letting me reject all of them.” Turning away as she speaks, Arya curls into him more, making herself look even smaller if that were even possible. “She intends to have me wedded and bedded by the end of the summer, seems to think it will curb my more unladylike tendencies.”

“Arya, you’re only twenty two for gods’ sake. She can hardly be that desperate to be putting you on the shelf already!” Almost as an afterthought, he mumbles into her hair, “And I like your unladylike tendencies.”

A sad smile on her face, Arya cups his cheek with her palm as she stays seated in his lap. “I know you do. I think she just wants me to be someone else’s problem now. Besides, all my siblings but Rickon have made good matches and are married. But what my mother said isn’t the important part.”

There’s a subtle shift in her voice as she draws herself fully upright, the pain replaced by something a little more hopeful. She’s finally looking at him again, her grey eyes searching his.

“Because Robb…” she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking him straight in the eye. “Robb told her he thought I should have more of a choice. He said that yes, I should marry, but that it didn’t have to be one of them. He told her that none of them would make me happy, and that I should marry a man who made me smile, not grimace every time I looked at him.”

Rubbing a hand up and down her back, Gendry cannot help but wonder, “That’s good, even I know that’s a good thing, but why…?”

“Because Robb walked out of his study and found me standing there, pale as a ghost I’m sure. He took me back to my room, and he told me that he thought I shouldn’t be forced to marry a man I didn’t love.” One of her hands comes to rest over his heart, fluttering rapidly at her touch. “Somehow, he knew about you and me, because then he told me he’d been thinking about commissioning you for some ironwork around the estate, and perhaps I could go to town to speak with you about it, since neither he nor Bran could do so today.”

The pieces fall together, and a little of Arya’s hope finds a home with Gendry. “So you think he’s giving us his blessing, and we’re running away.”

“I know he is, he just can’t come out and say it because of who he is.” Threading her fingers through his own, Arya holds their clasped hands together like a talisman, pressing a light kiss to the back of his before looking up with a smile. “We’re going to Gretna Green, and we’re going to get married like we’ve wanted to for three years, and then I’m going to actually learn how to keep a house and run your smithy, and we’re going to be happy, Gendry, so incredibly happy.”

“Aye, in our tiny little home with two rooms and no grand paintings or pianos or anything fancy like what you have up at Winterfell.” He knows that Arya says she has no care for those things, but he needs to remind her of the difference in their standing, just one last time before they make this choice that will alter their lives forever.

“Stupid boy,” she giggles, poking him in the nose with the first true grin he’s seen on her face this afternoon, “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a manor with some person I barely know. I mean, ideally we live somewhere with a forge for you, but as long as you’re with me, I’m hardly going to be picky.”

Bending down, Gendry allows himself to brush a quick kiss to her lips, a promise made without words. “Give me a few days, so I can finish up my orders and get everything ready so I can leave. Just don’t say yes to any other proposals, and we’ll be saying our vows in a fortnight.”

-/-/-

A sennight later, as she prepares her horse for the journey as surreptitiously as she can, the stable door creaks open. Terrified that it will be that one stablehand who always tells her mother when she leaves the estate without asking permission, Arya hides in the shadows of Nymeria’s stall, peeking out into the center aisle into the hazy, pre-dawn light.

It’s Robb, carefully shutting the door behind him. He walks straight up to her hiding place and holds out his hand to her, a small smirk on his face. “Come out sister, we’ve not much time to waste.”

Slowly, she leads Nymeria out of the stall, fingers tightly gripping her reins. Her brother looks older than she’s ever seen him before. He looks like a lord in a way he never has before, one with the world weighing on his shoulders. But then her eyes meet his, and he smiles at her, and Robb is her big brother once more.

Dropping Nym’s reins, Arya throws herself into his arms, trusting that he will catch her implicitly. She’ll miss this, she thinks, having a brother she knows she can depend on.

When they finally pull away, Robb reaches up to wipe a tear she hadn’t even noticed from her eye. “There now, this won’t be the last time we see each other, little sister. Besides, one would think you’d be happier to be heading off on such a grand adventure with your blacksmith.”

Laughing wetly, she replied, “I am, trust me, I am anxious to start our lives together, I just…” here she shrugged, fidgeting her hands as she tried to gather the words to express herself. “This is the last time I’ll be in Winterfell as Arya Stark, or maybe ever if Mother reacts the way I think she will when she finds out. I’ll miss it here, even when Gendry and I have a new home. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“You’ll always have a home here, for as long as I’m the lord. Probably after too, as you and I both know you’re Little Ned’s favorite auntie. But I think you’ll be far happier living wherever you and your husband end up than you would locked up in a London townhouse with whatever ponce our Mother has handpicked for you.” The disgusted face he made at his own words made her smile again, which she knew was exactly why he’d done so in the first place.

Serious again, Robb placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as he said, “I’ve grown to love Jeyne, I have, but I’ve never looked at her the way your Mr. Waters looks at you, or you look at him, and neither has Sansa’s husband. You’re incandescently happy whenever you’re near him, and I can always tell when you haven’t spoken to him in days because you’re so quiet, like you’re holding in all of your thoughts until you can share them with him.”

He sighed before continuing in a soft tone, “If you hadn’t found him, hadn’t fallen in love, then I would try to arrange a marriage for you that could lead to your overall happiness in life. But you did. You fell in love years ago, and I’m glad that at least one of us gets to experience that joy in this lifetime.”

Moving to hold her hand in his left, he reached with his right into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. “This is the information for the accounts I’ve had set up in your name in London.” He placed it in her hand and looked her square in the eyes. “You may not be marrying with a proper trousseau, but this way you won’t be entering this marriage without your dowry. You don’t need to worry about Mother’s reaction either, I’ll take care of it. Jon will meet you in Scotland, I’ve already sent him an express explaining everything.”

Shocked at all the things he had thought of and put in place for her, Arya could only manage to sob, “Robby, I…” before hugging him again.

Her brother pulled her close once more, placing a kiss on her brow before pulling away. “I love you, and I’m sorry I cannot do more. Be happy, Arya. Be happy and one day when we’re old and grey, you’ll tell me stories of all your adventures with the man I know you love and the adorable little children I’m sure you’ll have. Now go, the tasks I set for James cannot take much longer, and you have quite the ride ahead of you.”

With that, Robb helped her onto her horse and led her outside as the sun rose. After he let her go, Arya pushed Nymeria into a trot, determined to make her way to the closed smithy before the people of Wintertown fully awoke. She only let herself look back once, barely able to see the figure of her brother as he waved her off into her future.

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention.  He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia:    Geralt Rivia Destiny!

                              Geralt Rivia Fuck off

                              Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

                              Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

                              Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

                              Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree  ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts  Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a  dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Ok

 Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.  

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

[favior]

       ❝ The pain of “no” can last forever, but the only unmistakable and welcome consequence of saying yes is knowing that we’re all in this together. Together we are united and reborn under God, guided by the Father, and welcomed into the promise that is New Eden. I ask you this: will you let “no” continue to guide you into darkness? Left behind and alone?  Confess your sins! SAY YES && proudly profess the love our Father has given us!                                Come join us in the blessed glory of Eden’s Gate! ❞  ✞

                 rules. | bio. | promo. | owed. | prompts. | tags.

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED !! 

Themes present on this blog are not to be taken lightly. Mature content will always be present. This requires an AGE LIMIT, EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE, and a knowledge of YOUR OWN PERSONAL BOUNDARIES:

If you are a minor and try to interact, you will be blocked.

If you get the lines between mun ( the name’s graham - he/him ) and muse confused, you will be blocked.

If any topic I touch on in writing rustles your jimmies - well then, I suggest you block me. 

Look, I get it. Playing a villain is a tricky subject, but I’ve given you the tools to be safe about it. Don’t be dumb.

✖  D I S C L A I M E R. No matter how much I wish I was, I am not Jensen Ackles nor am I affiliated with him. John Seed, however, is a creation from Ubisoft’s Far Cry 5, and I will do with him as I please. The character will be developed further and played differently than most Johns you come across. Got a problem with it? Oh, look — there’s the door.

✖  M A T U R I T Y. I happen to be an adult (28), and I will write as such. I’ve seen people say 21+, but I’d like to believe that if you are old enough to smoke cigarettes and serve your country, you are old enough to write about and witness blood, violence, smut, and manipulation. If that offends you, at least you have been warned and I honestly recommend you don’t follow. But if you have a specific trigger(s), feel free to let me know on or off anon and I’ll tag it accordingly. I already tag the following just ‘cause I know they bother most people —

abuse

rape

self harm 

nsfw

violence

✖  S H I P P I N G. This is definitely a multi-ship blog, but I am not here just for the touchy-feely emotional bullshit. I love the blood, gore, and action that comes with role-playing crime. He’s a free spirit, and he does as he wishes. However, if chemistry does happen through role-play, all-be-it probably rare, things may flourish. I’m not here to settle-down and act out a white picket fence storyline like some of the people I’ve seen on here. Doesn’t mean I’m hating on those people, it’s just not my thing. I ship anything and everything if the chemistry’s right. However, I’ve never been one to force a ship and I won’t start now. I expect you to do the same. Just ‘cause I ship the actual characters together doesn’t mean I ship OUR portrayals of them together. Be cool.

THINGS I DON’T SHIP: Anything with other seeds, ok? You get it. I play John how I see fit, and to be honest, I couldn’t see him hooking up with any of them — let alone the fact that it’s incestual. No, this isn’t kink-shaming**, I just don’t think a canon John would ever engage in a sexual relationship with any family member — especially with his brothers.(** I use this term loosely, but I don’t know how to gracefully remind everyone that INCEST IS WRONG. Never thought I’d have to, but hey, here we are.)

✖  R E P L I E S. My reply time can be anywhere between 8 seconds to 8 years. Also, I’ll be real with you: my replies and starters can vary from 8 paragraphs to 8 extremely well-written sentences. And if I’m just legitimately not interested in the thread, I’m prone to dropping it altogether. Don’t take it personally, my muse just comes and goes. I might be crazy about something one day and just bored with it the next. Since I happen to be working with a pretty selective muse most of the time — I do play favorites. Whoever tells you differently is lying. I mean, c’mon, we’re only human. I apologize ahead of time, but just be wary of that.

Feel free to remind me of a thread after a while. I may have lost it, never saw it — or hell — just forgot about it. Try not to hound me about it though. That’s just rude.

✖  I N T E R R A C T I O N.  Honestly, I don’t enjoy plotting as much as I used to. Why plot when we could use a few memes or opens to break the ice? However, if you feel the need to plot (or you are an OC character without a bio present) we can definitely do that. We don’t need to be mutuals or anything like that, just let me know you wanna brainstorm and we can get right to it! And as for AU’s, they’re awesome within reason. And a gentle reminder: same with ships. They’re fun and cool and everything, but I’ve still got the right to say no. ✖  H A T E. Anonymous hate or any OOC drama at all is prohibited. You can send it. I can’t stop you, but it won’t be taken into account, and it will be deleted immediately. I came here to have fun and explore my creativity through a character I think is really bad-ass. I’m not here to cater to your needs or what you expect to see. ✖  E D I T S. I am the owner of most of the gifs, icons, images, etc. that you see here, so feel free to use whatever you’d like as long as you ask permission first. Anything that I have taken the time to make will be tagged as such. and If you REALLY want to use any of them (assuming it’s not an extremely personalized edit), just ask me — most likely I will say yes. I swear I don’t bite.

FRIENDLY SIDENOTE: I love making graphics for others, so don’t hesitate to request something within reason.

✖  F O R M A T T I N G. I roleplay in most formats including the use of icons, gifcons, gifs, and plain writing itself. Though I’m highly capable, if you do have a preference, just message me beforehand and let me know how you’d like to go about threading — generally, I’m not very picky. ✖ F O L L O W I N G. I’m semi-selective when it comes to following back just so you know. If I don’t follow you it’s for one of many reasons that may include: I don’t feel we’ll interact well, I don’t really like your posts, I want to keep my dash clean, or I just didn’t see that you followed me in the first place. I also reserve the right to unfollow anyone at any time for any reason and not be pestered about it. Thanks. FYI: Spoilers may be present on this blog. You’ve been warned. I track the tag — #hedosadism

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Don’t Let Go

So this is a sequel (not requested) to Hold On that I really loved writing… I hope you all enjoy it, because I’m really nervous on posting it. I decided on the sequel after very careful thought, not wanting to ruin ‘Hold On’; but after scrutinising every detail, I hope people can have fun reading this. Also, over 2.5K words -- that’s a first lmao.

Also, this was beta read by none other than @marshmallow--3​! So, thank you, Sam! Go check them out -- they’re awesome!

Obviously, this is going to diverge from canon A LOT here -- so bear that in mind.

I could write this plot forever omfg I was finding it hard to stop -- I’m really sad to be putting this away now, but I could always write drabbles relating to it *wink wink*

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I’d love to know what you all think; every comment/reblog is precious to me haha.

Tagging: @yourlocalfrenchie​ (if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!)

The link to Hold On is HERE

Warnings: Violence, Angst with a fluffy ending. No swearing, (miraculously)

Days went by. Your body lay in the train; Jacob couldn’t figure out what to do with it.

He couldn’t eat, sleep or even hold a conversation. Evie couldn’t communicate with him, as he would never reply. His mind was always occupied, for if it wasn’t, it would always end up in the most terrifying places.

The deprivation of necessities had taken its toll on his body. He was becoming fatigued after only a few hours, and he would frequently pass out from lack of sleep on top of his work, only to be woken up by re-enactments of the one moment he wished he could forget. He would be left gasping, sweating; clutching his chest as his anxiety and fear left an agony that squeezed his heart. In fact, the only time he managed to get any sleep was when it was dreamless.

In order to keep his mind busy, he studied.

Clad in only a shirt and breeches, he spent all his time pouring over the books in the train, for it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t be saved, and he had to let you go. There was a reason you mentioned the shroud, after all. Henry had talked about it once, when him and Evie went to visit the Kenway Estate. So he focused all his time on it, delving deep into lore.

One particular book was being heavily scrutinised by his hazel eyes. It was not a particularly interesting book, and in a half second of laziness, his Eagle Vision crackled through. The colours on the page, however, was not what he expected.

The words on the page turned from different types of fabrics to something much more relevant. It wrote about one certain thread; a material so powerful, it could hold the Elixir of Life.

It could resurrect people -- it was the fabric of the Shroud.

And Starrick had it.

Dressing, Jacob shrugged his overcoat over his shoulders and sifted his hand through his hair to allow his hat to sit on it. In the past, you would have done that.

Hopefully you would do so again.

He looked out over the sunset of the city as the train moved, adjusting his hat. His coat whipped at his knees; it was time to find that shroud.

----------

The night was freezing. The temporary Stronghold was heavily guarded, and was also very sophisticated; it could easily be mistaken for a house belonging to a wealthy family. He sat on a roof overlooking the property. The easiest entrance seemed to be through the balcony, but it seemed extremely easy.

He took the risk; he was already on a time limit.

However, as he leapt towards the balcony, he didn’t take into account his weakened state from lack of sleep and food. Instead of landing inside the balcony, his fingers had just about brushed against the railings. He had a lot of trouble pulling himself up and over, his muscles already beginning to ache. In the cold, his fingers fumbled around his lockpicks. It didn’t take long for him to open the window, but the lack of urgency of his body was beginning to frustrate his mind.

Jacob stalked the halls, peering into every room, and working downwards. There were a few close calls where he was almost caught, but he blended into the shadows quick enough to hide.

He reached the ground floor, and made a beeline to the one door that stood out over all of the others. It had locks spanning from the top to the bottom of the door. Inwardly, he huffed. 

He almost made it without being detected. 

That was, until a force pushed him face first into the wall. A hand grappled to reach his throat. Jacob elbowed the enemy on instinct, and managed to turn enough to kick a brute away. He grinned maliciously. “Don’t look too good, Frye.”

Already in a foul mood, Jacob snarled. “Wait until you see the other bloke.” He unsheathed his hidden blade and struck like a viper towards his neck. 

His wrist got caught. 

The brute bent his hand and manipulated his arm to persuade Jacob to collapse on one knee. He tried to mask his pain, sharp breaths exhaled instead of pained grunts, which sat in the back of his throat. His nostrils flared as he tried to jab the brute’s leg, and what was between them. However, instead of letting go, the brute pulled against his arm harder, releasing a pained noise. Jacob’s other hand came to ease the pressure his perpetrator was putting on his bone. He could hear and feel it began to crack. “One too many beers, Frye,” the brute tutted. “Disappointing, really.” In one smooth motion his arm snapped.

He yelled, the brute throwing him to his side. Before he could get up, a shoe was pressed firmly against his limb, evoking another pained noise. Jacob’s other hand tried to pry it off. “D’you recognise me, Frye?” He pushed an inch harder to keep the gang leader’s attention. Squinting, Jacob did agree that there was some familiarity to his face. 

“I can’t remember angering such a handsome fellow; we can always reschedule those beers,” he panted, trying to ignore the throbbing through a pained smile. 

The man smiled angrily, pressing down harder as he placed his other foot against his throat. “You murdered my twin brother.” Jacob squinted again, and realised who he reminded him of. 

He growled. “Your twin brother murdered my lover.” 

Against the wall hung a spear on display, it was unknown whether it was old or fake. “And now…” He pushed the point against the centre of his chest, where Jacob’s hand struck out to grab the shaft above the blade, attempting to prevent the piercing of his skin. “I can finish the job. First you; slowly, painfully, and then--” 

All the pressure against Jacob disappeared. As air flooded through his lungs, his good hand dropped the spear and took out a small, agile throwing knife. He looked and threw it within one adrenaline-filled second. 

The brute went limp, bleeding out of his exploded eye socket. 

He drew in a few breaths, to take in oxygen and to calm the anxiety. A figure came into view, offering a hand out. The shadow looked familiar, and for a moment, he wondered…

“Good throw.” Evie smiled softly with a gleam of concern.

“I was aiming between the eyes.” He took the help, groaning softly at the pain in the arm he held against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help my little brother -- and I want to get my best friend back.” 

Jacob smiled, grateful for the backup. 

“Why don’t you leave the combat to me?”

For once, that was something he could agree with. 

Evie picked the locks efficiently; it took no longer than a minute or two to get through all of them.

The dark, damp room was completely bare, void of windows and furniture, except for a single chest. It was big, it was grand, and it was definitely First Civilisation. It had various cracks, through which a mysterious light glowed. Evie knelt by the chest, and by methods unknown to Jacob, managed to open it. Inside was the most intimately woven shawl he had ever seen, showered in silver and gold. Picking it up, she partly unfolded it, moving to wrap it around Jacob’s arm. He recoiled. “What--” 

“Jacob, trust me.” He relented, not being in much of a state to complain. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

As they escaped out of the back door of the mansion, Jacob began to feel his neck begin to tingle. There was no doubt that there were bruises there, but he’s never felt them actually prick before. By the time they were clear of the territory, the throbbing began to worsen in his arm. “Evie, I don’t think it’s--” his vision blacked out suddenly, and his knees buckled beneath him. Evie managed to catch half of him, his weight still taking him to the floor. She leaned him against the wall. “Jacob? Are you alright?” 

He furrowed his brows. “Aye; I just couldn’t see for a moment.” He was about to get up before he felt a peculiar feeling in his arm, before he felt his bone snap again. He winced with a yell, before the pain all but disappeared. He exchanged glances with a very worried Evie before he tentatively pulled the shroud off of his arm. There was no pain, and he could move it just fine. 

“It works.” Jacob got up, hiding the shroud under his coat. “Back to the train.” He tripped over his words excitedly -- the hope in his eyes had returned. 

“Race you there?” Evie smirked.

In a sudden heart palpitation, he agreed. 

----------

Jacob never waited for the train to stop, and instead leapt into the open door before Evie would even consider it safe. He unbuckled his gauntlet and threw his coat off without caring whether they would hit his sofa or his floor, heading to your carriage with the folded shroud in hand. Henry was inside, watching over you. With no time for words he unfolded the fabric and pulled it over your shoulders so it would cover your torso. 

Henry was left starstruck. “How--” 

Evie entered the carriage. “So?”

Jacob watched, eyes scrutinising every inch of the shroud. He lightly shook his head, expression not changing. 

He became restless very quickly, from rolling up his sleeves to keep his fingers occupied to pacing the length of the carriage, never once taking his eyes off of you. As soon as he let go of the shroud, he could feel all of his energy dissipating with it -- he was extremely tired and hungry again, but his anxiety wouldn’t let him look after his own body -- he could only think about you. 

As seconds turned to minutes, he became more sleep deprived, and therefore a lot more frustrated. He could feel it bubbling in his chest, and he resorted to the one thing he knew would calm it.

“I’m getting a drink.” 

As he walked into the bar carriage, all conversations and laughter disappeared. He knew it wasn’t because of how he was dressed, but rather the look on his face. “Keep talking,” he ordered, praying for his Rooks to just ignore him for once as he sat at the bar. Gesturing for a whisky, he hunched over his glass, savouring the burn as he knocked the liquid down his throat. He was worried that it wasn’t going to work; that it would all be for nought. As quick as his hope had returned, it was quickly seeping away. He felt the tears prick his eyes, and properly downed his glass to keep them at bay, ordering another one to nurse slowly… just in case sobriety was needed.

----------

He took care in making his second drink last as long as possible. Once he had pushed the glass back to the bartender, he didn’t ask for another one, and instead put his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. When the door opened, he didn’t look up at first, thinking it was another rook. So he just ignored it, clasping a hand over the other to work as a chin rest. What confused him was the look the bartender gave the ‘rook’ who came in. He turned over his shoulder once he realised that the crowd had once again gone quiet. They were all staring too. Furrowing his brows, he turned to look at the door. 

His heart skipped a beat and he froze. It was silent as he drank in the scene before him. He swallowed thickly, pushed himself off of his stool and walked with loud purpose. One hand wrapped tightly around your waist, and the other cradled your head. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and just stood there. You brought your arms around his back, and felt his shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed under his breath.

“Jacob, Jacob.” You pulled him off of you and grasped his face in your hands. One of his own came over your hand while the other caressed your cheek. “Breathe.” You saw him inhale a shuddering breath, composing himself. “I’m here now; it’s okay.” Smiling, he pulled you to his lips, dipping down to close the height gap. You laughed against his lips once you heard the whooping of the Rooks around you. Although you both broke apart, your noses stayed touching. Jacob sniffed noisily, but you didn’t move. “Yuck,” you joked.

For the first time in forever, Jacob laughed. It felt foreign, but he welcomed it. He pecked your lips again, a smile fixed on his face. You trailed your fingers across his left forearm. “How’s your arm?” 

Jacob squinted. “How do you--” Looking up, he saw Evie and Henry in the doorway. They both looked like they’d been crying. Jacob shared a twin look at his sister. Thank you, it said.

Evie smiled, another tear running down her face as she gave him one back. No -- thank you, it replied. 

Jacob brought you into another hug, holding you less tightly this time around, but just as securely. 

“I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you more, Jacob.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible.”

----------

BONUS:

Evening

Jacob had finally succumbed to sleep. You watched him try and stay awake, but you negotiated until he finally lost interest and dozed off, his bottom half fully dressed, but top half shirtless; sleeping in a bloodied shirt was not going to be nice at all. Stuff like that always got him yawning. Evie came into the room quietly, fully aware of the lack of sleep Jacob had had recently. She greeted you with a sisterly hug. “Are you not going to join him?” she asked, watching over her brother’s sleeping form. “I’ve been sleeping for days, Evie. I’m anything but tired.” 

She chuckled, patting your shoulder. “Henry and I are in my carriage if you need us.”

You pulled a suggestive face. “Ah, I see how it is.”

Blushing, she tried to hide a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her tone showed that she knew exactly what you were talking about. You raised both of your eyebrows. “Don’t tell Jacob,” she whispered with a bashful smile, leaving you and Jacob alone. 

Looking at Jacob, you mulled over your thoughts. Coming to a quick conclusion, you did decide to join him. You stripped yourself of your heavy clothing and joined him in his bed in a blouse and breeches. As you settled next to him, you felt his arm enclose protectively around you. 

“So, Evie and Greenie, huh?”

Your eyes widened. “Uh…”

His chest rumbled in a sleepy chuckle as he responded in an equally sleepy voice. “Don’t worry, she’ll never know that I know.” 

It didn’t take long for his breathing to deepen again, and slowly you began to drift off as well, relieved that you’ll be able to wake up again.