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trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

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looking through your eyes + nine

authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....

i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)

And I see a girl Who is learning to trust

---Leann Rimes

In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesn’t make sense for him to have to explain himself.

For him to have to repeat himself.

Well, that’s gone out the window as of recent months, because he’s constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.

Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. “I’ve been texting you.”

The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but he’ll tackle that another day. “I’m aware.”

The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesn’t understand the why behind.

Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment she’s at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. “Well, I would like to talk to you.”

Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously?” Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping that’s all it takes so that he doesn’t have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. “It’s about Solana.”

And that is what finally catches Roman’s attention. He’s quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. “Talk.” She has his full attention. “Now.”

Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Roman’s attention with the simple mention of Solana. It’s surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself.

“We’re having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my family’s restaurant tomorrow night.”

“What does that have to do with Solana?”

Roman watches her hesitate for a second. “I want to invite her.”

For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesn’t immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. “Will Escobar be there?”

She’d like to just say no, as it’s highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. “I don’t know. You know he pops up at random times—”

Roman doesn’t even need to hear the rest. “My answer is no.”

She can’t be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.

“Roman—”

“Why the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?”

To be fair, Roman’s relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. They’re not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesn’t hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.

His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.

Roman won’t have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.

“You know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass Qué en es más macho thing going on, there’s all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way he’s never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. That’s not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.”

Roman isn’t too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He won’t give Bayley that much. “Why should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else that’s on Bloodline or neutral territory.”

“My family’s restaurant is on neutral territory.” Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. “And contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solana’s heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it would….that it would help her feel close to her mom.”

Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayley’s point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.

He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space that’s so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He can’t see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.

Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. “I get where you’re coming from with the safety angle, but I’ll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.”

Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. “You don’t want Solo there.”

On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Solo’s presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solana’s personal guard.

Bayley doesn’t seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. “Like I said, Naomi and I got this.”

Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. They’re just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows they’d be able to keep Solana safe if need be. It’s that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.

“Fine, she can go.” Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, “but if anything fucking happens to her while she’s with you—”

“It won’t,” Bayley vows. “She’s our friend, and she’s family to Naomi. We look out for each other.”

Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while he’d never fucking tell her this, he’s grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.

At his fill of socialization with people he doesn’t like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.”

Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so it’s under her breath she mutters, “a true gentleman.” She’s halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. “Hey, Roman.”

He’s back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. “What?”

With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, “thank you.” Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.

________

“Man, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.” Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. “Where she been at all our lives?”

Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, it’s shared with a wife who really isn’t an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog who’s currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.

“Why are ya’ll always fucking over here?” Roman’s question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesn’t feel like yelling at to shut up.

She might piss herself in fear or something.

“Come on,” he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. “Making all that damn noise for nothing.”

Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.

Jimmy is the first to notice this. “I think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.”

Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solana’s latest dish is that she’s made for them. “She know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?”

“Man, the dog can’t speak.”

“You know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.”

Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. He’s not sure why she’s downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but she’s already here now, so no sense in transporting her.

Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him.

“I still can’t believe we weren’t invited.”

“I can get why they didn’t invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.”

Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. “You know Nicki don’t fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.”

“Cause she’s fucking psychotic.” Roman has zero issues with his cousin’s wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. It’s for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.

“Once again, Big Dog, you ain’t gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.”

Roman is as unfazed by Jey’s threat as Dulce is.

“I gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.” That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny.

“Look, that was during a rough patch. That’s all.”

“Damn bruh, ya’ll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.”

“So what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?” Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. “Ya’ll just got the perfect marriage, right?”

“Of course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!”

Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.

Roman: You almost ready?

Solana’s reply comes in less than five minutes later.

Solana: Just about…..is Dulce by you?

Roman: Yeah. Sleeping….as always.

Solana: Lol….sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.

Roman: It’s fine.

Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.

He’s not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine she’s reading too much into his text.

Solana: Okay....I can come now?

Solana: I just have to put my shoes on….

Roman: I’ll come to you.

Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solana’s room and that’ll be it for the night.

One down.

Two more to get rid of.

Roman is standing outside of Solana’s door ready to knock when it’s ripped open, and he’s met with an instantly smiling Naomi.

She’s smiling at the damn dog, of course.

“There you are, Dulce.” Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesn’t get it, but it’s not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “I’m gonna take her out to pee.”

Bayley shouts from inside the room, “I’ll come with you.”

Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.

Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, “tell her she looks nice.”

That’s a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.

“Guys, are you sure I should wear—” Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind.”

Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different.

Solana is fucking stunning.

Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. It’s more low cut in the front than he knows she’s probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. There’s a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, he’d imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasn’t seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red.

Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, he’s tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because there’s not a single doubt in his mind that she’ll turn heads.

She always does.

Finally, he’s able to get words to leave his mouth that aren’t as filthy as the thoughts he’s trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. “Jesus, you look amazing.”

Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where he’d completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.

Granted, it’s always been there.

Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, it’s increased that difficulty exponentially.

“Thank you.” The makeup on Solana’s cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Roman’s unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. “Is it….is it too much?”

Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isn’t needed nor should she ever look for it. “Do you think it is?”

“I always think it’s too much.” It’s an honest answer, one that’s followed up with a caveat he’s surprised but pleased to hear. “But….but, I do like it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Solana’s smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when she’s smiling. “Look….” Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. “You need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?”

She nods and asks. “What about Solo? Isn’t—isn’t that his job?”

It’s not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesn’t tense under his touch. “You’re my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I can’t.”

She looks like she’s trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. “Do—do you want to come with us?” Solana’s hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. “I could talk to Bayley.”

Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isn’t necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayley—she’s not entirely awful—is not appealing as well. That doesn’t stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.

He’s tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours.

He’ll do it for her.

But, there’s another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesn’t include him. It’ll be good for her.

“No.” Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. “Not my scene. Too many people.” Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He won’t do that to her. Won’t’ risk ruining her night. “Go. Have a good time.” Again, for good measure, he reminds, “but I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.”

She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, “okay.” She then adds on, “I already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so often….”

“I got it.” He’d much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. She’s doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but that’s not surprising. It’s obvious how much she loves the puppy. “You should be back by midnight, though.”

It’s more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. He’s not going to dictate what she does and doesn’t do. She’s had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later she’s out, the riskier things can get.

After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.

“Of course.” She seems to understand this clearly, but he’d also bet that’s her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist.

She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesn’t tense under his touch. That’s happening less and less, it seems.

He likes that.

“Text me when you get there.”

She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. “I will.” Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room.

Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didn’t trust Bayley and Naomi’s abilities.

They’d defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.

That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy.

She deserves that much.

Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present.

“Ayo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!”

________

Roman needs a new house.

Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.

That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.

Roman just knew that when the ladies left, they’d leave too. But no, that’s too good to be true, because they’ve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.

Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room.

And as always with them, they’ve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.

He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. It’s especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again.

“Wait. I know that song,” Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that it’s in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. “That lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.”

Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. “What happened to her?”

“Man, she moved.” Jey shrugs. “She went to go be a freak in Cali.”

Finally, Roman snaps. “Would ya’ll use some damn headphones or something?”

Jimmy is the first to speak. “You might want to watch this, Uce.”

“I don’t care.”

Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousin’s attention. “Yeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?”

At that, Roman lifts his gaze.

Jimmy smirks knowingly. “Naomi sent some videos. Check your phone.”

That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasn’t from Solana.

He’d selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldn’t be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasn’t checked it since she text that they’d made it to the restaurant.

Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.

Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I don’t know none of these dances 😩 I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.

Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but it’s not going well lmao

Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what he’d guess are traditional Hispanic dances. There’s even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance they’re doing, and she looks just as patient as he’s seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.

She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.

He likes that for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves all of the happiness.

But, it’s in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousin’s phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.

It’s a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesn’t know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solana’s hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Fuck.

Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesn’t stop the desire though.

“Damn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.”

“Like water.”

It’s probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know they’ve gone too far.

And they know it.

Jimmy is instantly on damage control. “I meant—Bayley—you know, cause she—she’s also thick.”

Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. “I think, uh, we should—we should head out.” And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door.

It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, “about time they fucking left.”

Dulce barks in agreement.

________

Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana.

“Aren’t you glad you came?”

Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayley’s mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solana’s back, reminding in Spanish, “you must come back and see us again!”

Solana smiles, agreeing, “I will.” She then looks over at Bayley. “If that’s okay?”

Bayley waves her off. “Are you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any time”

Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, “maybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.”

Bayley chugs back some of her drink. “Hell yeah.”

Solana thinks she’d prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.

Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. “Yes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I can’t put my hand on it. I’m sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.”

That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if he’s anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybe…maybe it won’t be so bad.

And maybe…maybe she could ask Roman to come with her. That’d make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.

Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solana’s phone rings.

Roman: You good?

Solana: Yes.

She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but it’s also how she feels.

And he’s always telling her to be honest with him.

So she is.

Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.

Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately.

Roman: That’s your world. Not mine.

Roman: Do you not feel safe?

Solana: No, not that. I guess…...Nvm.

Roman: Tell me.

Again, more hesitation, and she’s not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.

Solana: Idk, I feel better when you’re around.

He doesn’t reply after that.

Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. “So how are things going with Roman?”

The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.

Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her.

She wasn’t lying. She does feel better when she’s around him. And it’s not even that she feels unsafe currently. It’s just that he makes her feel safe in general. That’s such a foreign concept. One she hasn’t experienced in such a long time.

If ever.

Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her father’s wrath always waiting around the corner.

So while this is new and unfamiliar, it’s also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.

Like he actually cares about her.

It’s such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems.

He’s never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but that’s starting to feel less like anything he’s done and more like her own trauma.

Trauma….

That’s also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, she’s worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And it’s been….an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.

It’s been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot.

One of the things she’s really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isn’t always true. Especially in the past few months.

So, there’s been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that it’s safe. That she’s safe.

Especially….especially with Roman.

Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. She’ll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if they’re close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.

It’s all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort she’s developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship.

She likes it.

She likes him.

“Solana.”

Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed.

She clears her throat, finally answering, “umm….good. It’s—it’s good.”

“He’s not being an ass to you, is he?” She asks, almost protectively. “I mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.”

Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. “No. No. He–he would never. He’s….always nice to me.”

Bayley nearly spits out her drink. “Nice?” She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. “Are we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, she has a point. I don’t think I’ve seen him be cruel to her.”

Cruel….Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Roman’s disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.

Bayley sits on Naomi’s point, suddenly sharing to the table, “you know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.”

Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. “Really?” Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, “he was probably like that with Samantha too.”

At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.

“Now that is funny. Solana, Roman don’t give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.”

Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, “think about it. She’s been around for years, and it’s not her he took down the aisle, so…..” She then adds, “arranged marriage or not.”

The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Nia’s jaw-dropping information.

An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her it’s a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but there’s also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.

Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. “Can I—can I tell you guys something?” Nervously, she stipulates, “but it has to stay between us.”

They look expectedly worried. “Solana, if it has something to do with your safety—”

“No, no that.” Solana almost feels confident enough to say that she’d go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.

“Of course, then.”

“Solana, you can tell us anything.”

And for some reason, she knows this to be true. It’s why she battles against her trepidation to open up. “It’s—ummm. I….I found out that when….when Roman was…..having sex with Samantha, he….” There’s a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. “He said my name.”

Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, “holy shit, what?”

Bayley then asks, “wait, how do you know?”

“Nia told me.” Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. “She said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?”

“Tiffy.” Bayley rolls her eyes. “Makes sense. That girl can’t hold water.”

“I don’t get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?”

Naomi’s question makes all the sense, but Solana doesn’t really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her.

But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.

“You two haven’t slept together…..have you?” Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that it’s reached this level of detail.

Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That part…..that part she doesn’t know if she is ready to discuss.

An ironic thing considering she’s just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people.

The irony.

But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm.

“Look, I’ve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but he’s also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two haven’t even had sex……there’s something there, Solana.”

“I agree,” Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. “I think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.”

Solana can’t deny the fact that it’s getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still can’t understand the why.

Just what has she done to deserve him liking her?

Maybe it’s not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she can’t negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, who’s known him her whole life, believes that something is there.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasn’t expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions.

Bayley seems cautious. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” The rejection is paired with a kind smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that she’s grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.

Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same.

The same….

Same.

Even with the makeup and tight little dress, she’s still the same person. She’ll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.

Even if Roman does like her, it won’t last.

She can’t please him.

She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.

She’s too broken for that.

It brings tears to her eyes.

Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar.

She’s only had white wine, but white wine isn’t enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and it’s nowhere good.

Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.

The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, “what can I get you?”

Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events she’d be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.

“Vodka and Gin, p—please.”

________

Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasn’t happened between them.

It does bring up a valid question though.

“Wasn’t the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is that—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Naomi murmurs. “But, I think we both know it’s obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.”

“I know.” Bayley frowns. “I guess I’m just surprised Roman of all people has been so….patient with her.”

“You and me too.” Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. “He must really like her.”

“It’s just hard to tell with him. He’s so damn stoic, but….I think you’re right. I think she likes him too. She’s just…..scared.” Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress she’s making towards overcoming those fears.

With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. “Get your phone.”

Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, “I know who may know.”

Less than a minute later, Bayley’s phone dings with a text notification from a new group she’s in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.

Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?

Bayley: And please be honest.

Bayley quickly ensures. “We’re not going to tell them what Solana said, right?”

“Hell no. We could never betray her trust like that.” Bayley is relieved but also not surprised.

Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does.

Jey: Man, I think he really like ole’ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I don’t think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.

Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didn’t last long at all.

Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.

Naomi: Except her 👀

Jey: Why ya’ll ask?

Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just don’t want to encourage her to give it a chance if he’s just gonna hurt her. Ya’ll know how Roman is.

Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe.

Bayley: But, it seems like that’s not the case with her.

Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too.

Jey: I mean they are married so….

Naomi: It was arranged. That doesn’t count.

Bayley: Do we know if he’s still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since she’s been his go-to the past couple years?

Jimmy: I don’t think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasn’t having it.

Jey: He’s apparently planning to pay her a lil visit….with Nia.

Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?

Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.

Naomi: Damn.

Bayley: That’s wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me too…..

Jey: Ya’ll really think he about to admit that shit though?

Naomi: No more than she is. He’s stubborn, and she’s so insecure.

Jimmy: Ya’ll thinking what I’m thinking? 👀

*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*

Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?

Jimmy: It’s our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!

Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.

Bayley: All the time unless you’re Solana….

Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.

Bayley: You’re not wrong. He is gorgeous. 😮‍💨

Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.

Naomi: Bae, I love you, but let’s not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but he’s also fine as hell.

Bayley: That’s not the only thing said to be big…..

Naomi: Girl….

Bayley: They can’t all be lying.

Jey: ANYWAYS!

Jey: What if they’re coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone?

Jimmy: 😐

Jimmy: That’s about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!

Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?

Bayley: A gentle push!

Naomi: Yes!

Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, I’m not taking the heat for none of ya’ll asses. Ya’ll gon have to deal with Big Dog.

Jimmy: Then we’ll just put Solana in front of us. He can’t hurt us then!

Jimmy: See…..I’m smart with this shit. That’s why Imma be the brains of this operation.

________

“What do you mean she’s drunk?”

Roman’s night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.

Good.

They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell she’s all but wasted.

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.

Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. “She’s not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.”

It’s an excuse, and Roman doesn’t do excuses. “What happened?”

Naomi answers this time around. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” One. They’re lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. They’re lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. They’re lying, and he wants to know why. “You’ve both got less than a minute to give me the truth—”

“Look, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so I’m not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you she’s not in danger.” Bayley is smart. She must know that he’d literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solana’s safety.

“It was just…some stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.” Naomi’s suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman can’t stop thinking about just what she shared with them.

Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly share it.

Even with how close she seems to them.

“Just leave.”

Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.

They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how she’s doing in the morning.

He neither agrees or disagrees. It’ll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is.

Once they’re gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.

“Solana.” She’s so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. “I need to get you to bed.”

He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.

She’s protesting almost right away. “I’m not t–tired.”

“Maybe not, but you will be tomorrow.” Roman knows she’s in for one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sleep.” She’s almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. “I just—have bad dreams and—and you’re just—just gonna leave once I sleep anyw—way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isn’t the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And he’s certain there’s a lot she’s probably still keeping in.

She then issues an unexpected accusation. “You—you’re—you’re gonna go be with Samantha—that’s who you want.”

Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering he’s been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. He’s letting her think she’s safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he can’t.

“Af–after all.” Solana continues, surprising him with her openness that’s most definitely fueled by her inebriation. “Why—why would you want me?” She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. “Why—why would anyone want me?”

He’s silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. “Is that really what you think?” It’s asked in a low voice, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself.

She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. “It’s like you said, I’m mentally u–unstable.”

For a second, Roman’s confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words he’d give anything to take back now.

With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. “I was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.” Truthfully, with all she’s been through, even if she was, he couldn’t fault her.

With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.

Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. “Is it—is it true you—you said my name when you were with S—samantha?”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he won’t lie to her.

“Yes.”

Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or him—he can’t really tell. “I—I don’t get it.” Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. “She’s pretty and—and—skinny and—she’s not—broken like me.”

That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. “You’re not broken, Solana.”

“Yes–yes, I am. You don’t—you don’t know what—what happened to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. “I can’t—I can’t do what—what she does—can’t—give you t–that.”

He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. “Baby….” It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma he’s certain she’ll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. “I don’t—”

“I can’t—I can’t because—” Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. “—b–because they r–raped me, and now I don’t—I don’t know how—how to be with anyone.” She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. “I should—should have f–fought h-harder—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that, you hear me?” Roman’s voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he can’t fully describe. It’s heavy as fuck though. “You were a child, Solana. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were a kid.” He has to say it again, because that’s the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. “You should have been protected, and you weren’t, and I’m going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She’s clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. “I don’t—I don’t—understand w–why? Why—why would you do that?”

Roman isn’t sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, there’s very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning.

“Because someone needs to protect you.” Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what he’s saying. “Because I don’t want Samantha.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. “I want you.”

And suddenly, it’s so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesn’t entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. There’s a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss that’s formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossing

She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else he’s ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. “But—but she—”

“She’s not you.” His voice unintentionally softens. “No one’s like you.”

Selfishly, he hopes she doesn’t remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.

Again, she tries to downplay her worth. “I can’t—I can’t—give you what you need.”

And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What she’s referring to.

“I don’t need that from you.” Truth be told, he doesn’t want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.

He likes having her around him.

She’s blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, “my h–head hurts.” It’s not an intentional deflection, he’s certain, but it’s appreciated.

This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.

“You need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.” He eyes her skeptically, asking, “can you walk?”

He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. “Come here.” He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions.

Roman doesn’t say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesn’t think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers.

He needs to monitor her tonight, and that’s easier done with her in his room.

She looks around still confused but doesn’t say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, he’s on one knee before her.

“I’m gonna take these off.” He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. “Do you want to change?”

She nods and then adds, “I don’t have—my clothes….”

Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. “You can wear this for tonight.”

She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.

While she’s changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.

He knows she’s used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesn’t happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulce’s bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.

One night of her sleeping in his room won’t kill him.

It’s then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup.

“I washed my face….hope that was o–okay.”

“It’s fine, Solana.” Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in.

He’s again ready to explain that he’ll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. He’ll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.

But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, “will you lay with me?”

It’s an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.

Roman’s answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what she’s usually comfortable with.

However, what he doesn’t expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.

In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than they’ve ever had, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, she’d have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.

But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, that’s not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him.

She’s looking for comfort.

And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.

Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question.

“Why—why are you doing this?”

To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because he’s betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.

“Because—because I know what it’s like to not have anyone.” There’s a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what he’s never once openly discussed with anyone. “Because I didn’t just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. I—I was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.”

Roman doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.

The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept.

“I didn’t—I’m sorry.” She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, “you don’t—you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t.

He says nothing.

________

Waking up in Roman’s bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, she’s hit with instant throbbing of her head.

She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.

Where is Roman?

Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.

Solana,

I’m sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, can’t miss. I’ll be back right after.

If not for that, I would have stayed with you.

You most likely won’t remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. You’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. It’ll help.

I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine.

I also let your job know you’re not coming in today.

Rest.

Roman

There’s so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Did—did they sleep in the same bed?

For some reason, that’s not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesn’t know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.

The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.

A switch.

At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesn’t remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.

It makes for a confusing story she doesn’t really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin.

And she goes right back to sleep.

________

Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phone’s status to Do Not Disturb.

He’s not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first.

Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.

“What of the girl?”

This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, it’s when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Roman’s focus is recentered.

“What about her?”

He’s not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didn’t expect was the anger that’s already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as ‘the girl.’

Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. “Is she still not pregnant yet? It’s been almost four months.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m aware of how long it’s been.”

Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. “Perhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctors—”

“The hell she will.”

Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, “language, Uce.”

Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when it’s earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.

He’ll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Roman’s birthright to the throne.

Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old man’s head into the table. “All we’re saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a better—”

That’s when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, it’s an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.

Over his dead fucking body.

Roman shoots up from the chair. “My wife isn’t going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.”

Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. “Roman, please—”

Roman’s not trying to hear that shit from him, though. He’s not trying to hear shit from anyone.

“Our marriage is nobody’s fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. We’ll share it when we want to.”

Truthfully speaking, this isn’t something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.

That’s not a priority.

“You may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.” The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but it’s no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. That’s an indisputable fact. “Don’t fucking forget who made this table what it is today.”

The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.

In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. She’s his now, and nothing is changing that.

Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered.

He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.

But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover he’s certain she’s still battling, so it makes sense she’s indoors. It’s when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes she’s still only wearing his shirt.

For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. “How you feeling?”

She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. “My head still kinda hurts, but I guess—that’s to be expected.” He starts to ask her if she’s drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but she’s suddenly pleading with him almost. “Please don’t be upset with Bayley and Naomi. It’s not their fault.”

To be fair, he hadn’t thought about them until now. “They were supposed to watch you.”

“They did. I—I got back fine.” She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. He’ll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, it’s the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though.

“You weren’t fine last night, Solana.” She was far from it, more emotional than he’s seen her in some time, if ever.

Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of it.”

He’s thankful for that. For the both of them. “You were upset.” It’s not a lie nor is it specific. It’s just the truth.

She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. “W–what did I say?”

Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t like being dismissive towards her, doesn’t like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldn’t do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset.

But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, “I told you last night, didn’t I?” Roman realizes it’s less a question and more a heavy realization. “That—that I was raped. Didn’t I?”

It’s a bit of a lose–lose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didn’t have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.

They’re both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. “Yes.”

“It’s weird. I—” She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, “I’ve been—I’ve been working out of this book for people who were…assaulted like me, and I’m–at the part where its recommended I tell at least one person because—because it’s not healthy to keep it to myself.”

Roman knows exactly what book she’s talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her.

“You’re now the first person I’ve ever told.” Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. They’re much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. “I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable.

She nods, almost appreciatively. “That's why sex is—it’s hard for me.” He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. “And it’s not—it’s not like I don’t think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.” This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. “ I—I have. But, every time I try, I just—I get flashbacks, and I can’t.” She ends on an almost whisper, Roman’s stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear.

He doesn’t like seeing her cry.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Solana.” Not him or anyone else, for that matter.

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute before asking, “what happens now?”

That’s a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. He’s curious though what she’s specifically referring to. “What do you mean?”

Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, “are you—are you gonna send me back to my father?”

Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. “Why would you ever think I would do that?”

And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. “I’m not—not a virgin, and—” Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. “You….you only married me because—”

“I don’t care about that.” This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. “What do you want, Solana?”

He has no idea what she’s going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death.

She seems to really think about his question, think about something he’s certain she’s never had a lot of.

Options.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. “I want to stay here.” Roman’s unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, “I like—I like living here.” And in an even smaller voice, she adds, “I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain it’s because they’re both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward.

Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. “Come here.”

He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but it’s gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.

Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that she’s trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that she’s safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.

Mouth the word ‘safe.’

Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort.

He does his best to reassure her. “Relax…”And it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. “I’d never send you back there. Ever.” And that’s a fucking promise. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“I’m—” Her voice is less emotional than before. It’s still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. “I’m supposed to give you an heir. What if—what if people start—”

“I’ll take care of it.” And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She angles her head up to look at him. “But—”

Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. “Alright?”

Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. She’s fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. “I’ve got you…”

Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but there’s nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back.

He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.

Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. He’s not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Roman’s starting to think that he couldn’t let her go.

That he can’t.

Even if she wanted to leave.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook #roman reigns x black!reader

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 11 months ago

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concert, part 2

part 1 | part 2 | (cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw smut)

The concert is a fucking blast. König and I are headbanging in unison to the songs blaring from the speakers and I love seeing the wild expression on his face. It’s exactly how I imagined it. Lorna Shore is also an amazing live experience, my god. I think I’m gonna have a bunch more lines on my face because every breakdown is bringing out my stank face.

Most of the concert goes well, without any incidents. Most of it.

If it wasn’t for the guy who almost knocked me off my feet running past us to the moshpit. König catches me when I topple over, his hands grabbing my waist and pulling me up again. The look on his face as he stares down the guy that just shoots a little “sorry” in my direction is downright abysmal that for a moment even I get a bit scared.

And I grab his arm putting my whole body weight on it when I see that he wants to go after the guy. “König, please, I’m fine.”, I shout at him, pulling on his arm to get his attention on me.

He stops, turns around and leans down, coming face to face with me. His eyes search it for any indication that would go against my claim, his hand cupping my cheek, the thumb softly caressing just once. And I just want him to do it again.

“I swear, I’m fine, it happens. I’m not made of glass.”, I explain to him and do a little dancydancy to demonstrate that my limbs are still working.

That pulls a little chuckle from him and he finally relaxes. Nodding, pulling back, and then he straightens back up, re-taking his position right behind me like my own personal bodyguard. And I lean into him again, shamelessly so, somebody might even call it ‘snuggling into him’.

I’m feeling touchy and I maybe would have had a guilty conscience if he didn’t do the same. His hand skimming over my naked arm, him pulling me against him when somebody pushes past us again. His big burly arms framing me. And it feels good. Oh, so good.

Luckily the heavy music blasting from the speakers is distracting me from the attractive man at my side, so I can keep some of my sanity while I try and tell myself that this totally is just two strangers going to a concert and not at all a date. Mh-mh, not a date.

I push those thoughts away and will myself to stay in the moment and let the music carry me away. I’m already getting tired and sweaty from all the jumping, shouting and moshing I’ve been doing, but also the concert is slowly but surely coming to an end.

I jump up a bit, going on my tiptoes, but I can’t see the band members on stage through the sea of bodies in front of me. König leans down, one of his hands on my shoulder.

“Everything okay?”, he asks me, loud against the noise, his breath skitting over the shell of my ear, and I ignore the tickling feeling that this elicits.

I turn to him speaking into his ear as well. “I don’t see anything.”, I complain to him. “But this is my favourite song.”

“You wanna sit on my shoulders? I bet you’d have a better view from up there.”, he suggests, patting said shoulders. They do look like a very comfy seat. Or a comfy leg rest. *cough cough* Get yourself together and the mind out of the gutter, I tell myself.

“Uh, sure.”, I say, totally not sure how this will work. He pulls his hair to the side and just leans down a bit, hoists me up at my waist and places me on his right shoulder. He holds up his hands and I grab them as I reposition myself, slinging my leg over the other shoulder, so that my thighs are now resting on both of them.

I didn’t factor in that I’m only wearing a skirt. The fabric is bunched up, which means that there are only the two thin layers of my panties and my tights between his neck and my pussy. Great. Just peachy.

His hands grab my thighs, his fingers digging into me, holding me steady and save. I’m so high up, so I can see everything, but right now my attention and more importantly the attention of my body is on the man whose head is between my thighs – so to speak.

“All good?”, he shouts up at me and I shout back a “yes”. Holding onto his head, making sure not to pull on his hair. But I can’t ignore the way it feels silkily smooth underneath my fingertips. I resist the urge to run my fingers through it and focus on the concert going on in front of me, joining in the refrain of ‘Dancing like Flames’.

And so the 'Pain Remains' Trilogy plays out with me on his shoulders experiencing the end of the concert with maybe the best seat in the house.

“Did you have fun?”, he asks as we leave the venue.

I’m doing double time on my steps to keep up with his long strides and the adrenaline from the concert still coursing through my veins turns my almost running into skipping along. “Yes, I did.”, I say smiling up at him.

A cold gust of wind blows through the street and a shiver runs down my spine which makes me slow down and cross my arms in front of my body.

“Wait, here, have my jacket.”, he says, slowing down as well, already putting the worn leather onto my shoulders.

I pull the piece of clothing tighter around me, getting enveloped in his scent while the smooth fabric of the inner lining skims against my skin. “Thanks.” We’re making our way to the car and he opens the door for me again, just like he did before.

“So, do you feel like you kept up with me today?”, I ask him then, a sly smile forming on my lips. He shoots me a look, an intense one, before he closes the car door. The look alone should have totally shut me up. But it doesn’t.

“So, how does it feel to still be out past your bedtime, old man?”, I continue as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t even look at me while he puts the seatbelt on and pushes the key into the ignition. “I’m glad you were more well behaved when we were at the concert.”, he says, a light gravel in his voice. A sound that does stuff to me. A sound that makes me brave and stupid.

"Do you know what a brat is?", I ask him and amusement paints my voice. I’m enjoying this way too much right now. Teasing him in person is so much better than over text.

He fully sideeyes me, pulling up one of his brows, then he turns his head to look at me. His gaze is heated, but I can see the restraint in it as well. He slowly tilts his head to the side and at the same pace the grin on my face falters, melting away. The hairs in my neck are starting to stand up and I have to suppress a shiver of excitement. From him just looking at me like I'm prey, someone to chase down, someone to devour.

"I'm familiar with the concept.", he says nonchalantly, leaning a bit towards me, when one of the corners of his mouth tips up. "Do you know what a brat tamer is?", he asks, smirking at me. And my brain short-circuits. My jaw drops, my chin is on the floor, figuratively speaking.

He laughs, short and darkly, as I'm still recovering from the sentence he just dropped. He straightens back up and fiddles with the ignition until the car starts.

"Sit up straight and put your seatbelt on for me, Liebes.", he says, his voice getting all authoritative. The tone makes my spine stiffen up and I do as he told me. He laughs again, seeing how I'm following his orders, when he shifts the car into gear. Without even looking at me, he drawls: "Good girl.", and I fold like a goddamn lawn chair. The little sigh dropping from my lips telling him (and me) exactly how this is making me feel.

He doesn't say anything, so I glance at him while he pulls onto the street. The smirk on his face is cocky and self-indulgent, his hair is still swept to one side and my god, the jawline with the scruff 5 o'clock shadow is doing stuff to me. The mental image forming in my head is so not safe for work.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy. His strong hands have a tight grip on me, pushing me down into the soft sheets while he fucks me deep and slow, his hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly. Praise is falling from his lips, telling me that I'm his good girl, that I'm doing so well for him, that I feel so fucking good while his hand spanks my booty, alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

His chuckle, the real König chuckling at me while driving, is pulling me from my dirty daydream and I can't help the blush forming on my cheeks. "Now where did you just drift off to?", he asks me.

"Nowhere.", I say, trying to deflect.

"Uh-huh.", he pulls up his brows, totally not believing me.

“Well, what did you expect when you told me-“ I lower my voice and mumble: “that you’re a brat tamer…” That pulls a laugh from him, a sound I’m already addicted to.

“You mean like when you told me that you’re a little brat?”, he throws back at me. “Two can play that game, Fräulein.”

I tilt my head to the side, but I can’t argue with that. “Touché.” I feel like we just dipped our toes into some unchartered territory that made everything a little bit more sexual than it already was, a little clearer where this is headed – probably sooner than later. Because even if we keep making jokes and bringing up our age difference (which I still think isn’t that bad), I can feel the pull of attraction towards him. And with the way he keeps looking at me, I’m sure he feels the same way.

We were flirty in our texts and we were touchy all evening. I remember the way my thighs hugged his neck when I sat on his shoulders. How his fingers dug into the pillowy flesh, holding me tight.

The way his arms closed around me, shielding me off from the people around us. Me shamelessly leaning into him, relishing the way his body feels against mine. How I felt safe at the concert with him as my personal bodyguard.

And every single thing heightened the feeling of need, of want, of desire that was already there when I saw him sitting at that table at the pub.

I try to hold off from squirming in my seat, having a hard time keeping my cool, especially when my eyes wander to him all the time while driving. How his knees almost graze the steering wheel, the way his knuckles strain when he grips it. His hair falling over the side of his face. The tattoos, the shirt he got hugging his biceps just the right way, just… every single detail.

I spend the ride home trying to keep my thoughts holy, but I can’t. His image and my imagination don’t seem to mix well.

He pulls up to my apartment complex, parking the car and turning the engine off, but he keeps the sound system running. He turns to me and the sentence I wanted to say gets stuck in my throat. I wanted to thank him for taking me to the concert, making me feel safe. Very obviously going out of his own comfort zone to accommodate me. Even when we still didn’t know each other for that long.

But the way he’s looking at me shuts me up before I can start talking. His gaze is intense, just like before and the effect is all the same. And I can’t tear my eyes from him, drinking him in.

“Don’t look at me like that.”, he says, not breaking eyecontact.

I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning nonchalance. “Like what?”

A little growl drops from his lips and the sound sends a wave of need between my legs. Like I even needed more of that. He leans a bit forward, inching closer and closer. “Like you want me to do something about this tension between us.”, he whispers, low and darkly.

“Maybe I do want that.”, I answer and he doesn’t need more encouragement than that.

His hands grab my face, his fingers tangle in my hair, and he presses his lips onto mine. His hold on me is soft, but the kiss is fiery. And for the first time I can really feel that he wants me as desperately as I want him.

I grab him, his t-shirt, pulling him against me. I can feel his broad chest under my fingertips, the warmth of his body, the hard muscles that I also was snuggled up against before. His leatherjacket falls from my shoulders and pools around my hips.

“Fuck.”, he grunts against my lips, letting one hand drop down to push the car seat back. He pulls me with him, onto his lap, my thighs spreading over it. His hand brushes down my back as his mouth finds mine once more to kiss me, feverish, demanding, needy. And I answer it with the same fervor, brushing my tongue against his, moaning as I taste him for the first time. The flavour of beer that we both drank cutting through his own scent.

He grabs my ass cheek, squeezing it through the fabric of my skirt and the touch is making me squirm in his lap, grinding onto him. I feel his hard length against me, straining against his jeans, my tights and panties not really being a barrier as I roll my hips, relishing the feeling of the fabric on my wetness. The feeling of his dick right underneath me.

“Do you wanna come upstairs?”, I breathe against his lips. I almost add that I don’t want to give my neighbors a show, but that seems to be a little on the nose.

He pulls my head back a bit, his eyes searching mine and I can see the unbridled lust in them. Other than that, it seems like he’s exercising restraint, stopping the movement of my hips on his lap. “If we do that, we’re gonna fuck.”, he states matter-of-factly.

His words colour my cheeks red. “I guess so.” is all I manage to say because the imagination alone is already making me hotter than I was before.

His gaze flits between my right and left eye, back and forth, like the answers are already pouring out of them. “Are you sure you want this?”, he asks softly.

I break eyecontact and nod because this whole interaction is making me shy all of a sudden. The brattiness is gone.

His hand that was still tangled in my hair strokes down the side of my face until his fingers grab my chin and turn it up, to make me look at him again. “Use your words, Liebes. Do you want me to fuck you?”, he rewords his question.

My breath halts in my throat and for a moment my mind goes completely blank. I just stare at him, swallowing down the nervousness I feel. “Yes.”, I answer him, my voice steadier than I would have expected.

He pulls up one of his eyebrows, looking at me like he’s expecting something more, the serious expression on his face turning heated and cocky.

“Please.”, I whisper which earns me a satisfied growl as he captures my lips again. The kiss is sloppier than the ones before, he bites my lower lip which sends a zap of pleasure right to my core and makes me moan against his lips some more.

He pulls back a little bit, his hot mouth pressing small pecks to my cheek and down to my neck, all while scooping me up and opening up the car door. He presses me flush against him as he gets out the car with me in his grasp, making sure I don’t bump my head on the car frame.

My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers digging into his shoulder, holding onto him, my thighs resting against his hips, while he locks the car and just uses one arm to steady me, like I weigh nothing. Well, to him I probably don’t.

Determination in his step, he approaches the building and I dig into my little bag with one hand to get the keys to my flat.

part 4

~ or More Stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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a night to remember | joshua hong

SYNOPSIS. in which a handsome stranger at the bar catches your attention. PAIRING. joshua hong x gn!reader (ft. twice's jihyo since she was the first person to pop up in my head) GENRE. fluff, suggestive, 1920s-ish au, one-night stand au, strangers to ?? WARNINGS. implied sexual content (no actual smut), mentions of cigarettes (reader+jihyo smokes cuz it was socially acceptable at the time) and alcohol, drinking, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.9k

notes: this is obviously based off this masterpiece of a song "a night to remember" by beabadoobee and laufey which i could never do justice but i hope you enjoy! i also impulsively wrote this whole thing btwn the hours of 12-3am so its pretty rushed oops 😭

The dim glow of the flickering marquee lights of the bar spill onto the rain-soaked streets outside, beckoning every passerby to enter into the hazy world of cigarette smoke and clinking glasses. Each swinging of the door releases a burst of warm, smoky air into the cool, drenched night. The air buzzes with the lively chatter of other people, mingling in with the sultry notes of the saxophone and the sweet melodies of the piano drifting through the heavy atmosphere of the bar.

Sat on a worn-out barstool, you bring a cigarette up to your lips and inhale deeply as your eyes flutter to a close, the smoke from the tip suspending in the air and mixing with the potent scent of whiskey also filling your lungs.

"Must you always sit like a boring bystander? Come on, we're here to have fun!" Jihyo stumbles her way right next to you, her sequined dress glistening under the lights like a kaleidoscope.

You only respond to her with a playful roll of your eyes. And with a wry smile, Jihyo plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a theatrical, languid drag of her own before flicking the ashes into an already well-worn tray.

You scoff lightly, taking out a fresh cigar. "Well, you already took me here without much of a choice."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow, her grin unwavering. "Afraid of a little fun?"

"Not afraid," You reply with a smirk, swiftly igniting the cigar and leaning back against the bar behind you. "Just comfortable observing the fun itself."

"If you're just going to sit there and look pretty, you might as well have someone to look pretty for, honey," Jihyo teases, her eyes momentarily scanning across the room.

A puff of smoke escapes your lips as you retort, "Easy for you to say."

"Life's too short to be a wallflower, Y/N!" Jihyo exclaims dramatically.

"The excitement will come when it wants to, not when I force it, honey," You reply cryptically.

Jihyo drinks the rest of the bourbon from your glass before taking one last, begging glance in your direction. When you don't seem to want to budge, she shoots you a faint, pert grin before turning away towards the dance floor, each step she takes accentuating the dramatic shake of her hips. You can't help but let out a low chuckle.

The bar was not usually a place where you found yourself willingly. Usually, you'd take the comfortable bubble of your place over the haughty energy of this any day. But tonight, for some reason, the familiar discomfort feels strangely comforting; and plus𑁋much to Jihyo's preference of unwinding𑁋you didn't have much of a choice either way.

From the side, you have the opportunity to simply watch. For example, there's a couple lost in each other's gaze sitting a few tables away from you. Maybe today is their first date, maybe they're rekindling a flame that has flickered in the past, or maybe they've been together for years, and this is their escape from the routines of life.

Then, down at the centre of the bar and close to the small stage at the front where a beautiful young woman stood with a microphone in front of her, there's a group of young friends sharing laughter of their own that gets lost in the music. It reaches your ears almost perfectly the more you focus on them, and it makes you smile to yourself𑁋you like seeing other people happy.

You turn yourself around on the barstool, facing the array of alcohol bottles that are all perfectly lined up together on the shelves. You cup your empty glass in your hands, swaying it lightly as the sounds of the ice clinking against the sides echo softly. The bartender who was perhaps metres away seems to notice your empty glass and gives you a nod, silently asking if you'd like a refill.

You raise your glass in acknowledgment. The bartender approaches up to you and reaches for a bottle with practiced ease, the amber liquid flowing smoothly into your glass once more.

But just as you were about to bring the cup to your lips, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. A new figure steps into the bar, their silhouette momentarily framed by the rain-soaked glow from outside, and you notice it's a man. A black fedora sits on his head, hiding away any view you could possibly have of his face, and he wore an elegant black suit with a bow tie that seems to glisten with a subtle sheen against the lighting of the bar.

It wasn't until he takes off his fedora that you realise you just can't seem to stop staring at him, even with all the people brushing past him like he doesn't exist and the hectic activity of the bar. His blonde hair is perfectly styled and coiffed, his features gentle yet carrying an air of both mystery and familiarity. It's almost as if you've seen him before, but nothing particular in your mind rings a bell. Perhaps while walking down the street, across the quiet room of the city's library, or something as ridiculous as your past life, his face might have crossed your path at some point.

You watch the way he scans the room, appearing a bit lost but also intrigued, as if he's searching for something or someone.

And when he eventually lets his eyes sweep across the room and to the bar, his eyes lock onto yours like a snap, and it's enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. The air seems to thicken for a moment, and you couldn't tell if it was the hint of alcohol in your system that's playing with your vision or something else. His lips play into a slight smile as his eyes hold yours, and he puts his fedora back on, before you lose track of him in the crowd in a sudden blink.

You find yourself briefly dazed, spinning around to face the bar once more. You're quick to grab onto your glass once more, seeing the way your reflection sways in the amber liquid as you take a moment to collect yourself. All it took was one look to have your head spinning and your heart racing with a man you probably would never see again.

"What can I get for you?" the voice of the bartender catches your attention.

You glance up to answer. "Oh, I don't need𑁋"

"Just two waters, please."

At the corner of your eye, a black fedora sets itself down on the counter next to you. You turn, and there he is𑁋the man from earlier, standing with a confident yet intriguing demeanour. The bartender nods and gets to work, pouring two glasses of water.

The man turns to you, eyes dark like the night itself. "Mind if I join you?" he asks, a subtle tilt to his lips. His voice is smooth like a well-played jazz tune.

You're taken aback for a moment. The bartender places two glasses of water on the bar in front of you, and you nod, almost hesitantly. The man sidles into the seat beside you, his fingers subtly brushing the tips of yours as he secures himself comfortably on the barstool, and it sends a jolt through your body, a sensation that lingers longer than it should. You catch a whiff of his cologne, both intoxicating and familiar, as it intertwines with the lingering scents of tobacco and whiskey.

"Thank you," he says, eyes never leaving yours as he lifts the glass of water to his lips. "The water is for you, by the way."

You chuckle shyly as you tap your fingers against the cold glass of water, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "Water? In a place like this?"

He smirks at this, a sight both amusing and enticing. "Well, we don't want to do anything regrettable, right?"

His words seem to crawl under your skin, and it's enough to convince you. You take a sip of the water, the cool liquid a stark comparison to the warmth spreading through all the corners of your body, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. He also takes another sip of his own water, his eyes following your every move as you nearly down the entire glass. The way he looks at you𑁋with that dark, piercing stare that heavily clashes with the soft features of his handsome face𑁋makes your heart pound in your chest.

Around you, the bar has seemingly grown quiet, the only sound the soft music playing in the background. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, and it's taking everything in you not to choke.

He breaks the silence with a charming smile, eyes now softened. "I'm assuming you don't come here often, do you?"

You meet his gaze with a coy smile, the corners of your mouth lifting. "You're quite the detective, aren't you?" There's a satisfied look to his face, and you clasp your hands together. "but to answer your question𑁋no, not exactly. How about you?"

"Ah, I had just moved here recently, actually," he reveals, which still doesn't seem to help the fact that you swear you've seen him before. It still draws you in, of course, and you can't help but wonder more about the mystery surrounding him𑁋both the one in his eyes and the one lingering in the air. The dim light of the bar casts a subtle glow on his features, and you find yourself captivated by the play of shadows and highlights dancing on his face.

"Welcome to the city then," You say it like a grand gesture. "It could be quite daunting at times, but you'll get used to it."

His gaze doesn't waver, and there's a quiet intensity in the way he studies you. "Perhaps I could get used to it faster if I had the right company."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you're suddenly acutely aware of the proximity between you two. The bar, the jazz music, the muted conversations around you𑁋all fade into the background as if the world has momentarily narrowed down to the space between your barstools.

"Smooth," You reply, a half-smile playing on your lips. "Is that your usual approach?"

He chuckles. "Only in certain situations."

A sly grin forms on your face. "And is this one of those situations?"

He tilts his head slightly as if in thought. "If you want it to be, of course."

All you could do is let out a soft laugh𑁋a laugh that blends with the faint jazz music playing in the background, a laughter that indeed signals the beginning of an unpredictable night.

"To new beginnings?" You raise your nearly-empty glass of water up to him.

He raises his glass in response, and the crystal-clear water catches the ambient lighting above, creating a small, sparkling spectacle on the surface of the bar counter.

"To new beginnings," he echoes.

The next minutes fly by in a breeze. Usually, letting people into your little bubble only causes for you to raise your guard up a bit more. You certainly didn't expect an utter stranger to intrigue you this much, just like a moth to a flame, especially in a place you never frequented to attend. You don't even mind the way his hand somehow found its rightful place on top of yours as you simply talked, or the way a glass of water can make you feel more alive than the strongest drink in the entire bar. And instinctively, your eyes would focus on the way his lips move he as he spoke, just barely catching all the words leaving his mouth.

When the music shifts to a more intimate tone, he looks into your eyes, a subtle invitation lingering in the air.

"Care to share a dance?" he asks, and the simple invitation is enough to course that warmth of anticipation through you once more.

The decision lingers in the air and his hand is extended towards you, a heartbeat away from being made.

And without a word, you slide off the barstool, your hand finding its place in his. He locks his grip on yours, and drags you in the direction of the small dance floor, the pungent smells of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey lingering as you weave through the crowd together.

When he suddenly pulls you closer to him, the scent of his cologne envelops you. His hand rests securely on the small of your back, guiding you with a subtle yet confident touch, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of your outfit. It sends a thrill through your body that heightens every single one of your senses.

As the music reaches its spirited crescendo, he spins you gently, the movement endearingly awkward, but you both don't care. When he brings you back into his arms, you're suddenly close to him way more than before, enough for his lips to be so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

The song slowly approaches its end, but he doesn't let you go. Yet just as the distance between your lips disappears, he stops. A teasing grin plays on his face, and he pulls away slightly, though your gaze doesn't intend to move away from his mouth.

"You're one of those," You remark airily.

He spins you around again, letting his fingers dance on the skin of your back. "Guilty as charged."

As the song draws to a close, he dips you in a move that feels straight out of a film. Your heart races, and when he pulls you back up, his lips are dangerously close to yours again. But this time, he doesn't hold back, and the kiss is a slow burn, gentle yet intensely passionate. One of his hands come to delicately cup your face, and the other brings you flush against him.

When the kiss breaks, he smiles, a genuine and warm expression that makes your heart flutter.

"Tell me your name," he whispers, breath caressing your cheek.

You meet his gaze, a playful glint in your eyes. "Maybe we’re more similar than you believe."

This only makes him lean in once again.

"Let's keep it that way, then," he suggests, grinning against your ear as if sharing a secret meant for only you. "Care to get out of here?"

It doesn't anything more than that for you to agree with a smile. Without uttering a word, you nod, your hand still entwined with his as you allow him to guide you through the dissipating crowd towards the exit of the bar. He ushers you outside, and the cool droplets that linger on the city's surfaces glisten under the streetlights.

The lively jazz bars highlight at the heart of the city within the late hours of the night, and his place isn't much farther than you anticipated thankfully.

It all happens so fleetingly𑁋one moment you're outside the door to his place, and another you're within the comfort of his bedroom, kissing him so feverishly with your fumbling hands on the buttons of his suit until you both fall on the bed, that the world outside seems to vanish. And when his hand makes contact with your skin for the first time, you could only gasp.

This is a night you will remember, and you'll make sure of it.

You dress yourself back in your clothes in the hushed morning. A comfortable silence lingers in the room, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the waking city. The rain outside has completed ceased away, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow of dawn.

The events of the night replay in your mind like a reel of a film𑁋the moment your eyes first met, the touches of his hands against yours, the kiss you shared on the dance floor, and the whispers of sweet nothings to your ear right underneath the sheets you sat atop.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks from behind, the huskiness of his voice making you pause.

You can sense the unspoken words hanging in the air𑁋the silent acknowledgment that this is a chapter that closes as the sun rises.

"Unfortunately, I must," You reply with a wistful smile, reaching for your shoes. "Real life calls."

He sits up on his bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, and you can't help but admire the way the morning light dances on the bareness of his body, his disheveled hair, and the remnants of the night before etched into his beautiful skin. There's a subtle tension that crackles in the air, and he clears his throat.

"Will I… see you again?"

You turn to face him, the playfulness in your eyes replaced by a hint of contemplation. The smile still doesn’t fade away from your lips.

"Who knows? Life is full of surprises, after all."

He watches you for some time as you fully dress yourself, a gaze struggling between the line of intimacy and distance, letting his eyes soak in your figure.

"Do you regret it at all?"

A pause, like a second and an eternity rolled into one. The room holds a quiet acknowledgment, a shared understanding that some moments are meant to be lived fully, without dwelling on what comes after, while others are meant to come and go like a shooting star. You aren’t entirely sure which this falls under.

"No," You answer simply, before setting your feet on the floor and standing up. "Not at all."

Another round of silence follows as you gather the rest of your belongings, trying to ignore the bittersweet ache in your chest threatening to cut you open. You feel his gaze lingering on you as you move about the room, still feeling those embers of the night before dancing upon your skin, as if they're fighting their way to linger a little longer, to save every last trace of the moments you shared.

"Joshua," he states as if in response to the unspoken question hanging in the air. "Joshua Hong."

His name escapes his lips like a secret, and you savour the sound of it, committing it to memory, committing him to memory. You ponder the thought of what it would be like to have your name said at the tip of his tongue in some other distant, intimate moment.

"Y/N," You whisper your name in return, the final piece of the exchange. "Y/N L/N."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli

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ghoul-slime · 6 months ago

Text

Mushy May Day 16 - Cooking A Special Recipe (Aether/Dew)

Whoops, this is late as hell, but here it is anyway! Thank you again @forlorn-crows for organizing Mushy May! And @ghuleh-recs for the cute dividers <3

Day 16: Cooking A Special Recipe - Aether/Dew, no real warnings here, just some briefly suggested sexual content and happy tears. 2442 words.

Aether wakes up alone, the warm, purring fire ghoul that normally occupied the other side of his bed nowhere to be found. Usually, Dew preferred to sleep in, burrowing himself beneath the blankets and into Aether’s arms for as long as possible - especially now, having just returned from a long, grueling world tour only a few weeks ago.

He showers and pops into the kitchen, somewhat surprised to find it empty. Usually the rest of the pack congregated there to eat breakfast and get ready for the day. He shoots Dew a text to see where he might have gone off to so early in the day, but despite his message being marked as “read” after only a few moments, Dew never responds.

Aether begins to suspect something is up, though as far as he remembers today wasn’t any sort of special occasion, it wasn’t anybody’s summoning day or any kind of special clergy ceremony day either. His suspicions were only confirmed when Phantom had pulled him away to the practice room later that morning, telling Aether that he really needed help perfecting one of his solos and that no, it really could not wait until tomorrow.

And no, he definitely did not know where Dewdrop might be this morning…

As a matter of fact, now that Aether thinks about it, Dew had been being a little secretive about something for the better part of a week now, and that whatever it was, it probably also involved Mountain.

Phantom, for as hard as he was trying, was not very good at acting casual at all, shifty eyes and stuttered words betraying his nerves as he kept asking Aether to run him through the song over and over. Aether was happy to play along, but after nearly two hours his stomach was starting to rumble, and he let the younger quintessence ghoul know he needed a break from their lessons for the day.

But just as Aether starts to make his way down the hall towards the kitchen for a snack, Phantom grabs his arm in a wide-eyed panic.

“Aether, please? Just show me one more time?” he begs. When Aether hesitates to oblige he switches gears. “Oh! Aether, my guitar is out of tune! Actually, maybe we should just restring the whole thing! That should take a while - maybe you can help me with that!!” He tries his best to yank Aether by the arm back towards the practice room.

Swiss appears around the corner just at the right time.

“Hey little bug, mind if I borrow the big guy here for a while?” he ruffles Phantom’s hair before slinging his arm around Aether’s shoulder and steering him back towards the dorms. Away from Phantom - and away from the kitchen, Aether notices with a sigh.

Swiss pulls Aether into his room and shuts the door with a click behind him. There, he’s greeted by the sight of Rain sitting cross-legged on Swiss’ bed in a pair of the multi-ghoul’s boxers and an oversized shirt. He smiles sweetly and gives Aether a shy little wave.

But just as he’s about to politely excuse himself to find a snack to calm his rumbling stomach, Swiss hands him a banana, seemingly pulled out of thin air.

“Thought you might be hungry after being held captive by Phantom all afternoon,” he says with a grin. “And thought it might be useful as a bribe for you to do us a little favor,” he adds.

“Uh, sure,” Aether concedes, already peeling open his prize and taking a bite. “What is it?”

“Well see, our little tadpole here woke up with a bit of a sore neck after his nap this afternoon. He didn’t want me to say anything, but I thought you might be able to give him a little bit of a quintessence zap to help him feel better. Loosen him up for some of the activities the two of us have planned for later,” Swiss answers. “Isn’t that right, Rainy?”

Rain just answers with a shy little smile and a shrug, perfectly punctuated with the slightest little wince and a delicately pained hiss at the movement of his supposedly sore neck.

Aether sighs, shoves the remainder of the banana into his mouth, tosses the peel into the trash, and motions for Rain to make room for him on the bed.

“You’re a pal, Aeth,” Swiss says with a shark-like grin, and claps Aether on the shoulder.

Aether’s stomach rumbles loudly in response.

Forty-five minutes later and Aether excuses himself, leaving behind a very sleepy and blissed out water ghoul dozing on Swiss’ bed. He hears the lock click behind him as soon as he shuts the door.

Finally, Aether resumes his search for Dew, only for Cumulus’ door to swing open suddenly the moment he passes in front of it. Aether jumps, startled out of his thoughts.

“Oh, Aether! Just the guy I wanted to see,” Cumulus coos at him. “Didn’t scare you, did I love?” she asks, with a curious little head tilt.

Aether shakes his head no and asks what it is he can help her with, coaxing a smile across his face. Normally he loves helping his pack with whatever they might need, but for whatever reason, today it feels like he’s the most in-demand ghoul in the entire abbey. And he still hasn’t managed to have lunch or figure out where Dew snuck off to.

Hours later and Aether flops down on his bed with a sigh. After Cumulus had wrangled him to help her and Aurora build a new set of shelves for their ever-expanding record collection, Papa had called for him and said he’d needed help with some paperwork. Taxes, he’d explained, but really Aether had spent over an hour helping Papa rummage through a stack of old boxes looking for some sort of paperwork while Sister watched from her desk with a disapproving frown.

Eventually Papa dismissed him. They never did find whatever mystery paper he was looking for.

Just as he thought he was home free for the day, Cirrus and Sunny had swooped in and dragged him out to the garden to watch the sunset with them. They sat on either side of him, clinging to his arms and chatting as the sun slowly sank below the horizon, bathing the sky in beautiful hues of pink and gold. Aether had zoned out just a bit, mind wandering off as he wondered why Dew wasn’t out there with them, watching it too.

Now that he was finally back in his room, he’d all but given up on finding the little fire ghoul. It was nearly dinnertime anyway, he’d see him at the table when the whole pack sat down to eat.

He texts Mountain, “Hey Mount, I’m starving, what’s for dinner tonight?” and after a second he adds, “By the way, have you seen Dew running around anywhere today?”

Mountain responds immediately. “Sorry, didn’t have time to cook. Everyone’s on their own tonight.” He ignores the question about Dew altogether.

Aether raises an eyebrow at Mountain’s uncharacteristically terse response. He pulls up Dew’s contact and sends another message. “Dew, you hungry? Looks like we’re fending for ourselves tonight, lol.” He stares at the screen holding his breath, waiting for Dew to answer. After a few minutes his message gets marked as read, but after a few minutes more he still gets no answer.

Aether frowns at his phone. Between Mountain’s short response and Dew seemingly ignoring him, he’s starting to feel a little hurt. With another sigh he drags himself up and makes his way out of his room, heading towards the kitchen to try and forage for something quick to satisfy his empty stomach for the night.

But as soon as he turns down the hall, he smells something delicious. He can hear movement in the kitchen too, the clanging of pots and pans, the sound of glassware being moved around, someone turning the sink on and then back off. The closer he gets the stronger and more delicious the aroma grows, something warm and savory and familiar, though he can’t put his finger on what it is just yet.

Aether opens the door to the kitchen to find the missing ghoul in question standing in front of the stove with his hands on his slender hips. He turns around with a smile on his face.

“There you are,” Dew grins, bright and beautiful. “Was wondering how long before you broke free and found your way here.” Dew laughs. His hair is tied up in a little bun high on his head, thin golden wisps falling out and framing his face. Aether can see his black band tee spotted here and there with white powder, flour, he thinks. Dew wipes his hands, freshly washed and still dripping, onto his jeans.

“I gotta hand it to them, Papa and the rest of the pack did a pretty damn good job at keeping you away from the kitchen all day,” Dew chuckles, looking at Aether with those bright, golden eyes, sparkling with mirth. “You must be starving by now though, this took way longer than I expected it would, sorry Aeth.” Dew strides up to him and lays a hand on his belly in apology, standing up on his tiptoes and looking up expectantly at Aether for a kiss.

Aether leans down to peck the little ghoul on the lips before taking in the spread before him. The dinner table is set for two and completely full of beautifully plated food. It takes Aether a moment before it starts to dawn on him. He looks back at Dew with wide eyes.

“Dew, did you make all this? Is this all from…?” he trails off, having a hard time believing the sight before him.

Dew grins again, pressing himself against Aether’s side. “Our favorite restaurant? Yep, Mountain helped me recreate all the recipes the best we could. Not sure how accurate it all turned out, but it tastes pretty damn good if I do say so myself.” Dew stands proud as Aether takes it all in.

The table is absolutely packed with familiar dishes. Barbecued lamb chops and skewered meats with herbs sitting atop a mountain of aromatic rice pilaf, glistening with butter. There’s a plate full of absolutely gigantic stuffed cabbage rolls, swimming in tomato sauce with a heaping spoonful of sour cream piled into the center. A basket stacked full of freshly baked bread and a ramekin of what Aether knows right away is the same exact delicious dill butter that Aether had eaten so many times in the past. There are huge salads full of fresh, beautiful vegetables and chunks of goat cheese. Bowls of roasted eggplant, vinegared beets, and potato salad with hard boiled eggs and bright green peas.

Dew had lovingly recreated all of Aether’s favorite things from their favorite restaurant. It was their date night spot - a place they absolutely had to stop at every time they were out on the road on tour and passing through town. A place he’d enjoyed with Dew many times over years.

Up until this past year, at least…

“Just didn’t feel right going there without you this year, Aeth,” Dew looks up at him, a little sad. “It’s not the same. Doesn’t taste as good when you’re not there.”

Aether stands there in stunned silence when the oven dings behind him. Dew scrambles for the oven mitts and calls over his shoulder as he pulls out something bubbling and shuts the door with a bump of his hip, “Sit down and start helping yourself. Everything’s ready now.”

Dew sets down one more plate in front of him - a huge, toasted gondola of soft baked bread filled in the center with bubbling cheese and a perfectly cooked poached egg with a golden, runny yolk. He mixes the egg and cheese together methodically with a serious look on his face, before cutting a thick slice and setting it, gooey, stretchy cheese and all, into the center of Aether’s plate.

“Eat!” Dew insists, and Aether almost doesn’t even know where to start. He goes for a lamb chop and sets it down on his plate.

“Oh, and I thought - oh,” Dew goes to say something again but he’s cut off by a choked sound.

Aether can’t help it, he lets out a strangled sob, hands coming up to cover his face, unable to hold it all back as fat tears start rolling down his cheeks.

Dew looks on in stunned silence, horrified as Aether cries into his lamb chops.

“Sorry, Dew,” Aether hiccups out, struggling to apologize between shuddered breaths as he desperately tries to calm himself down. “I just… I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He wipes the tears from his face with one of the fancy cloth napkins Dew had set out for him.

“Thank you… I just. Thank you so much,” he looks up at the fire ghoul with a devastated look on his face. And then Dew is swooping in, cradling Aether’s head to his chest while he sniffles into the fabric of his shirt.

Dew just shakes his head gently, petting Aether’s hair, waiting patiently for his breathing to even out. “Anything for you, Aeth.” He kisses the quintessence ghoul sweetly between the horns. “Seriously, I’d do anything for you,” he says quietly.

Aether squeezes him around the middle and pulls himself away, wiping the last of the tears from his face. For a moment, they just look at each other fondly.

“Oh!” Dew exclaims, bounding over to the refrigerator and rummaging around inside. He turns around, holding up two glass bottles of something with a bright, almost neon green liquid inside with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.

“Holy shit, no way! You even got the tarragon soda?!” Aether exclaims, wiping away one last rogue tear threatening to fall. Dew unscrews the cap of one bottle and hands it to Aether, beaming.

“Yep! Swiss and I convinced the owners to sell us a couple of bottles to take home. Snuck them through customs and everything,” Dew announces proudly, crossing his hands in front of his chest.

Aether manages to make it through the rest of dinner without crying.

Later, they sit pressed together on the couch with a hot cup of cardamom tea, passing a slice of the honey cake Dew made for dessert back and forth while the rest of the pack feasts on dinner leftovers back in the kitchen.

Dew is still beaming, and Aether basks in it all with a full belly and a warm heart.

(Here's the restaurant in question. Khachapuri there so good it changed my life.)

#mushy may 2024 #dewther #aether x dew #aether/dew #aether x dewdrop #aether/dewdrop #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band fanfic #ghoul-slime fic #ghoul-slime mushy may 2024

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lillipad72 · 7 months ago

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The Annotated Anne of Green Gables ~~ a special rereading

CHAPTER II ~~ Matthew Cuthbert is Surprised

"The little birds sang as if it were/The one day of summer in all the year."

These verses at the beginning of Chapter II come from a long verse parable by James Russel Lowell, "The Vision of Sir Launfal," published in 1848. I could not find much besides a quick synopsis of the poem, but we can learn much from it. This poem is a twist on the classic Grail story. Sir Launfal decides not to search for the Holy Grail after a dream causes him to realize that the real meaning of the Grail is charity. These verses come as Matthew travels to pick up an orphan boy from the train station only to discover our heroine, Anne Shirley, waiting instead. While the verses perfectly describe the beautiful spring day of the setting, the poem as a whole fits into the theme of the novel. It was the charity in the Cutherberts' hearts that led them to find their Holy Grail, Anne, even if it wasn't the orphan boy they thought.

"Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, that looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others. So far, the ordinary observer; an extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was pointed and pronounced; that the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity; that the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive; that the forehead was broad and full; in short, our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child."

This is the introduction and description of Anne Shirley! While there is so much here to unpack, I'll leave that for another day; for now, I will discuss L.M. Montgomery's inspiration for the appearance of Anne. I knew about this before, but this book pointed it out, and well, I love this fact! So Montgomery said she saw a photo of a girl in an American magazine that she then used as a model for Anne. Montgomery said she had no idea who the girl was and if she had any idea that her face was the model for Anne. Well, that girl has been identified as none other than Evelyn Nesbit! The exact photo is above! For those of you unaware of the lovely Evelyn, she was a chorus girl and model in New York City at the beginning of the 20th century, but she really became famous when her husband, Harry K. Thaw, murdered Stanford White. (White was a famous architect who designed such buildings as the Pennsylvania Station in New York; he is also a character in the Gilded Age on Max). Nesbit alleged that White raped her when she was a minor and that she had told her husband that, causing him to shoot White to defend her honor. The trial would go on to be called "The Trial of the Century" (despite it only being 1907), and Nesbit was the star witness in her husband's defense. Her fame would rise, and she became a star in vaudeville. Another fun fact is that she (according to her grandson) received $25,000 from her husband after the trial, and she donated it to the anarchist Emma Goldman (who I really suggest looking into; her work was fascinating). Anyways, all that to say: I wonder what L.M. Montgomery would have thought if she knew that Evelyn Nesbit, a woman of 'loose morals,' was her inspiration for the appearance of Anne?

I was going to write as well about a few song lyrics that appear in this chapter, but I talked too much already I feel, so if anyone wants to know about the lyrics, let me know

next chapter

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #aogg #awae #anne shirley #matthew cuthbert #evelyn nesbit #lm montgomery #ragtime #i seriously recommend the musical ragtime

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11queensupreme11 · 8 days ago

Note

Hey!!! So genuine question! I see on ur tumblr a lot of mangas and animes and I was wondering if you can give me just a general list of animes or mangas you’d recommend since I’m all out of ones now and have fallen into a slump.

List of the animes I watched that I like the most for reference:

Naruto/Naruto Shippuden/NO Boruto though(I just don’t vide with it)- so basically the basics

Bleach (watched and read this a billion times and it is my go to when bored)

One Piece- yet another classic that I have watched, rewatched, and read like… twice.

JJK- it’s fine. I liked the first season and the manga (even though I forgot where I stopped reading) but I got bored of it and can’t force myself to start again

MHA- THIS ONE WAS GOOD! Buuut I fell behind in newer episodes and would have to start over to remember anything

(I’m sure u see a pattern at this point 😂😂😅)

Spy x Family- this one I just finished and OMG it’s sooo good. I loved everything about it and it really got me out of my manga/anime slump.

These are only some of them since I generally can’t list ALL the ones I’ve seen so far but these are the basics of the ones I liked enough to remember and make note of. Tho there are definitely more.

So yeah if you have any good suggestions I would LOVE to hear them.

Thanks, Queen!!

I DO HAVE A LOT OF RECS ACTUALLY!!!! here's a list of the ones i'm currently reading (i don't have a summary, just pics of the hot dudes LMAO but i'll write the summaries here + more)

sakamoto days: SUCH UNIQUE FIGHTING STYLES BRO OMG. latest chapter, we just had a dude shoot an arrow FROM BEHIND with his feet, he also used his bowstring to slice a dude's head off lol. but anyway, PEAK FIGHTING. updates weekly!

gokurakugai: honestly it was the art style of the hot characters that drew me in 💀💀 and the manga is still in it's early days (just recently reached the 20s), but the plot is great so far! interesting enough for me to start theorizing about the MC and villain's possible relationship. updates monthly usually on the 4th of every month! follow the mangaka (yuto sano) on twitter for sneak peeks!

chainsaw man: the themes of abuse is written so beautifully here and the story/worldbuilding is soooo good. this manga has the best analysts and theorists in my opinion. updates weekly!

one punch man: also has beautiful art style! i'm not super caught up rn, but if you like mha than you might like this one? this is about superheroes too, but they're going up against world-ending monsters instead of human villains. updates bi-weekly i think!

tokyo aliens: also not super caught up, but basically humans vs aliens (tho some aliens are good). idk how often it updates, because i read physical...

yu yu hakusho: it's old BUT ITS STILL SO GOOD. this was like the first ever anime i ever watched and i HIGHLY recommend it. it's been over ten years since i watched it, but i love it so much that i still remember what happened and obsessively collect figures of the characters 💖💖💖 manga has been completed!

deadman wonderland: ANOTHER OLD ANIME THAT I LOVED (awesome opening song btw). basically, it's about people with powers over blood who are sent to prison which is basically a death trap. manga is completed! i watched the anime but idk if it ever finished

pandora hearts: (i still remember the beautiful song "every time you kissed me/lacie" 😭😭💖. i recommend the anime first so you can listen to the songs!

ajin: basically, being immortal is the worst thing to ever happen to you. there are these "demi-humans" who are immortal (can't ever die) and they get experimented on by the government. MC is trying to avoid that

gakuen alice: it's not super action-y and leans more to romance, but you have spy x family so you might like this. this is my favorite EVER shoujo manga and one of the first i ever watched/read. basically it's about kids with super powers (alice) who are sent to a specialized academy that's full of secrets. very beautiful, emotional, and just perfect!!! anime is incomplete i rec you watch first and then catch up with manga or just read manga in full (cuz the anime might've skipped some important stuff)

shoujo chara: has some magical action and romance! another fav shoujo of mine with some magical girl transformation and cat boys!

owari no seraph(?): vampires vs humans and it's post-apocalypse i think. anyway, i put a question mark because i heard the plot got more confusing (there's dinosaurs now???) and the art style changed drastically so yeah

rosario vampire: OKAY OKAY SO IT KINDA HAS SOME HAREM VIBES AT THE START, BUT I SWEAR IT GETS BETTER LATER ON 😭😭

kiss of the rose princess: another shoujo with reverse harem vibes and hot men! i can't remember much of it, but basically MC has power over these cards (rose knights) which is where the hot guys come in lol

fairy tail: i noticed you didn't have fairy tail?!?!??!! anyway, hot characters and a beautiful plot about friendship. YES they do the whole "power of friendship" thing but i promise you it's not cringe!!!!! 😭😭 the manga is finished, but idk about the anime... but anyway yeah, if you're looking for a long series to binge, this is the one for you!!!

rekkyou sensen: or "the doomsday is wartime" (i still don't know which title ppl mostly use). anyway, it's another tournament manga like ror but it's about the end of the world. humans have fucked up the planet so much that there's now around 100 years left before earth fucking DIES, so they decided to do a tournament where super-powered humans from the surviving 16 countries have to fight for their country's survival. still pretty new and it releases in the same magazine as ror, so it updates monthly every 24th!

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| recs #there's like... SO much more but this is all i can think of rn

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 5 days ago

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Is there any Lucy Gray's POV fanfic out there? (Please 👉👈)

Hello @littlemarianah!

Below is a list of Lucy Gray POV fics! I've added this to future masterlists and have several more in the queue to post. Hopefully some of these are new to you!

(It's Not Over) Till the Mockingjay Sings-kits_corner (ao3) Summary: Unseen scenes from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes from other characters' perspectives. Book canon-compliant, which means Snow is a dick (never) let go-ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) (ao3) Summary: AU in which Coryo was also shot after Mayfair and Billy Taupe. No he's bleeding out and Lucy Gray is having *feeeelings* about it Some Snowbaird feels with extra Coriolanus whump A Baird and the Snow-Millie_Kate01 (ao3) Summary: Coriolanus Snow has always had severe paranoia and it's cost him a lot. Lucy Gray Baird is the love of his life and he was already lost to her as soon as he saw her selected in the reaping. Will his paranoid mind and thoughts keep him from loving Lucy Gray Baird freely, or will it end them? A Kiss and a Blow-calicolette (ao3) Summary: Coriolanus shows his wife Lucy Gray that riding him doesn't mean she's in charge. A Long, Unfortunate While-freezerbrides (ao3) Summary: "In the end of it all when you can hardly move and they say you’ve still got the world to go, stay strong, It’s a long, unfortunate while til curtain call" - In which Lucy Gray Baird hitchhikes away from home with a mysterious stranger, abandoning her family and God, only to be met with a fate far worse… always a daydreamer, never in the night.-bonappetite (ao3) Summary: Lucy Gray was always the songbird who dreams in the day, her mind zoning out to a place she calls “home.” There she would imagine the love of her life, Coriolanus sitting right next to her as they hunt for food in the forest after running away from society. But all goes down when the same love of her life hunts her down and almost kills her all because she lost trust in him, poor Lucy, now she is found again by the now powerful man who she once trusted. OR Lucy daydreams about Coriolanus and them living a free life, until he betrays her. Years pass in the streets living anonymously after leaving the covey, she is found again by Coriolanus, but this time, he is much more different then ever. and birds are singing (to calm us down)-MyOleander (ao3) Summary: She told herself that she was overreacting, that Coriolanus really was just trying to make her laugh. And yet, try as she might, Lucy Gray could not silence the chorus of ‘who? who? who’s?’ swarming her mind. And she couldn’t stop the image of Sejanus that answered. A twilight song-ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) (ao3) Summary: Just a little moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo, both in 12 after the games. Music was always Lucy Gray's joy, so she asks Coriolanus to sing for her when he seems sad. Feelings are felt. A Victor's reward-Anonymous (ao3) Summary: In which Lucy Gray realizes the games never stop in the arena and how quickly a songbird can become trapped in a cage. Beneath A Moonless Sky-SleepingBeauty21 (ao3) Summary: When Lucy escaped Coriolanus in the forest, she never thought she would be back to Panem or even District Twelve. She was done with everything and everyone there. Yet, inexplicably, fate conspired to bring her back, and the choices she made after that eventually brought consequences for everyone that were still felt long after she departed from the world.

If anyone knows of a fic like this, please reblog, reply, or send an ask with fics fitting this idea and I’ll add it to the list!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!

#lucygray!pov #pov!lucy #thg fanfiction #thg #thglibrary masterlist #tbosas!fics #tbosas fanfic #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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cosmoseinfeld · 2 years ago

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How was the Sunny Dublin show?!!! Do you have any pictures?

How long was the macdennis segment? Was Glenn shaky on the macdennis "love affair" chat (saw a post on twitter) or was he just doing one of his Glenn bits like from the podcast where he acts like he's not into things before he's honest about it? Did they confirm Honey and Vinegar for s16 or were they just teasing the idea of it in future seasons? Were you able to see their expressions from your seat? (Sorry for being cringe and insane in your asks!)

hiii! sorry it took me so long to reply. I was kind of processing those days and also recovering from covid which i brought as a fun souvenir! (nw, it's all good) I can't possibly tell you how long the segment was but it def took up a good chunk of the show! i was sitting too far away to take good pictures or videos (nor did i want to yknow, kind of living in the moment) but i took this pic of the screen which was up for a satisfyingly long time

I honestly think glenn was just doing one of his "bits" because - imo - he's much more on our side when it comes to the meta level of the show just from how he is talking about dennis etc. I still love how bold rob was by just straight up saying macdennis is a love affair to some. at least, glenn then said to rob "love you, baby!" I remember meg saying it's one of her favourite dynamics but we already knew that. Oh, she also said that the impl*cation scene was put up there against her will and i agree. It's not a macdennis moment and I overall hate it (in parts because it is what dudebros cling to so desperately). I am amazed that they somehow managed to avoid talking about Mac and Dennis break up AGAIN by "letting the audience choose" (which is a fabricated thing because a hyped up audience will cheer and holler for anything) but i will say that Suburbs got a REALLY loud cheer. They played the montage from that and ofc the dinner scene with the "newsflash asshole" moment. Oh, we also had to watch glenn's naked ass on screen. Rob talked about shooting that scene and said how hard it was for him to keep up because glenn was bringing his whole talent to it and rob said he wasn't that good of an actor to keep up. glenn said he's sometimes concerned that there is this psychopathic side to him and that he needs to get that checked. They then played Mortgage Crisis but didn't really talk about it. BUT meg suggested that hugh honey & vic vinegar should make a comeback at some point and rob sort of agreed and so did the audience, so who knows! The segment ended with them playing the impl*cation scene instead of break up and meg saying mac and dennis keeping each other in check is one of the things she loves about that dynamic and that they follow their own specific set of rules.

Overall, it was a very fun show and I am happy I went. The mood was so great, on stage and in the audience. I couldn't see their expressions from up there but I did see rob pulling down his pants to show us his shamrock tattoo, so there's that image... I loved the video cameos by danny, artemis, the lawyer and even uncle jack. Glenn got drunk on stage to the point that rob felt the need to intervene when he got too annoying lmao. Glenn said rob gave him a shot of "tequila" backstage and it might have been the bit that tipped him over - he then got corrected because it was whisky of course (maybe he had flashbacks to the christmas special). They played family fight but it was sooo messy omg... never give buzzers to drunk man-children. Everybody celebrated kaitlin of course and it was... a special experience to hear her and glenn sing the tiny boy song live. Charlie sang a bunch of sunny songs. The one that got me most was "I like life at paddy's pub" of course, especially because the whole audience was singing along. They also had an inflatable tube guy on stage before the show started which I thought was hilarious and weirdly relaxing to watch... Oh, yes before the show started, they had a sunny playlist going on with all the classics like "the boys are back in town" and the ghostbusters song etc. During the intermission, they showed gag reels on screen. Hm what else... Not to burst the bubble, but they also talked about how they couldn't film s15 in Ireland because of covid restrictions, so the on locations shootings took place in california - movie magic! If I remember anything else that's of significance, I'll post a follow-up. I really hope they'll come back to europe soon because i'll def go again. It was so nice to meet other sunny fans IRL and hang out and have a good time together :) i am always amazed how a shared love for a show can bring people together... it's so wholesome. (and you could also sense their love for the show and each other and I think it's great for them to finally get such a direct feedback from the fans)

#ask #good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic #the always sunny podcast #live in dublin #iasip #macdennis #guys it was sooo much fun... my love for them grew #sorry this took so long #always sunny dublin

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solarwynd · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/solarwynd/736542748902080512/this-still-interests-me-a-lot-because-he-said

if its not as ballad-ish as the “cover art”* suggests its most likely hip-hop or r&b based on the producer’s previous work. I would LOVE for it to be r&b (check out lucky daye’s f**kin sound and teyana taylor’s shoot it up both by the same prod) but its probably more likely to be hip-hop based on jimin’s taste and his work on face. i know this is a divisive statement in the pjm community lol but i really hope he’s not rapping in it 🥶

i just don’t think it favors him at all. with SMF, from a production standpoint its a masterpiece, but i never really got into the rap verses bc of both the lyrics and the vocal production. i get the use of the autotune both technically and narratively, but its just not a good fit for his voice imo.

*i say “cover art” bc smth about it is off, its not clapped in the typical hybe way lol as a graphic design enthusiast, it does look like someone put very different elements together in picsart in under 5 mins. still better than the average tacky hybe artwork though 🤷🏽‍♀️

Jimin’s very versatile in his music. Each song on face was a different genre and even with smf2 it wasn’t rigid hip hop. He still put his own flair on it and that’s what I like about his art. Your view on smf2 is fair I mean listening to it the first time the rap part with the auto tune portion did throw me off at first. I just wasn’t expecting it, but it doesn’t bother me. So i’m in the “fine with it” camp. It’s okay to not vibe with it, it’s okay to think it’s good. They’re all opinions. Only thing that annoys me are the people who do the most with pointing out how much they hate it cause it’s just not that deep.

Also I think jimin favors smf2 as a song and what it stands for, not so much that his taste lies with hip hop. Don’t think we should judge the next single or any other rap forward song he might do based on smf2 because that single nor the others will sound like that. They’ll all have their own style. But like you said, the producer’s repertoire is rnb and rap so chances are it could be that because you go to who specializes in something if you want something similar. He could also just be utilizing highlights of the producer’s production skills to lend it to a song that’s a hybrid like pop/rnb or ballad/rnb for example. Which leads me into the topic of jimin being great at melodic rapping. You see it scattered throughout bts’ discography and even that one part in face-off. I’d honestly be interested to see him tackle that more.

A direction I could see him possibly going in is dominic fike. The dance cover he did to his song “phone numbers.” And I think one of the producers he got pinged to work with worked on that and my favorite song of his “mona lisa.” too. Tbh we’ll never be able to pinpoint exactly what the songs jimin puts out will sound like cause he doesn’t have a fixed sound.

As for the cover art, haven’t seen it so I can’t form an opinion on it. It sounds like the cover for “come back home” from what you described though and that one was a choice that cost energy lol. But I mean as long as the song hits the cover art isn’t really a concern to me.

#shoot it up be teyana is great tho #love loose each other and bare wit me off the album too

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ode2rin · 2 years ago

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✧˚ · . 【𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒】

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋:

blank blogs / ageless blogs / spam likes = block :)

i softblock or remove the following when i am bothered by anything, which isn't very personal i promise !! it's simply me trying to make this a genuinely enjoyable experience for myself :D (feel free to do the same thing w me !!)

for the most part, this blog will be sfw. the closest i'll get is suggestive content (which i'll still tag appropriately). if you want my nsfw blog, it's probably somewhere out here in tumblr xD kidding! just ask :>

some occasional explicit thirst/content/rambles will be tagged accordingly, if you're a minor, please don't interact with them.

also, i am fine with nsfw blogs interacting with me.

for my works, any age is free to interact!

and for interacting with me, any is also okay (i won’t followback unless you’re 15+ though)

have your age on your bio (so i know how to act around you, if you interact with me !!)

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆:

i do not write nsfw and dark themes (in this blog), or any sensitive topics.

i will usually write in gender neutral tones, reader's pronouns will always be they/them. i may sometimes write gender specific ones but it will be a rare occurrence here :>

i don't do requests, but ideas are welcome though!

i don't have a posting schedule, i write only when i feel like it :D

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐁𝐘𝐅:

please know that i'm multilingual and english is not my first language, there will be (a lot of) times that my grammar and my syntax would not be the best, if that bothers you then this blog might not be for you hehe

i'm new here like that kind of new in a platform (as of writing this, month of may 2023!!) so i sometimes don't know whatnots especially on the technical side of tumblr

i joke and swear a lot, i also scream a lot about my interests, and if you don't like a bother in your dash, i'd appreciate if you'll rethink following me hehe.

i also suck at making things look pretty, so.. if the disastrousness of my blog bothers you (me too..) i guess i'll see u go !

i'm usually busy ._. and only opens this app when i have time to dispose or a brainrot is getting too real

i sometimes (usually) write fics that are inspired with taylor swift's songs bec i really like her art !! if that bothers you, suit yourself :D

lastly, this blog isn't just made for writing. i sometimes share personal things about me too :>

feel free to shoot me an ask or a message (don't trauma dump tho.. unless warranted by me) !

ESPECIALLY MY MUTUALS PLS MESSAGE ME ANYTIME (in my book we're friends)

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐃𝐍𝐈:

if you are homophobic, racist, transphobic, or just a hateful human being in general. i cannot stomach people like that. also, i don't like people who 'shades' others and think that it's edgy and quirky to be sending hate for no reason.

DNI IF YOU SUPPORT ISRAEL.

#mimi's navi: acc rules #pls #this is so important to me #thank u for taking the time to read #ily

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trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

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looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

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

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

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

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through.

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again.

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things.

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him.

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana.

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood.

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally.

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request.

Not happening.

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.” While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled.

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness.

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not.

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head.

She’s clearly looking for Solana.

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him.

And that’s not the case.

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy.

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze.

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway.

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list.

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.”

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day.

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!”

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins.

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air.

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs.

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?”

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.”

Dulce barks in response.

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit.

He got the blueprint from Roman.

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way.

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.”

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans.

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does.

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment.

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit.

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown.

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled.

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive.

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in.

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma.

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess.

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done.

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings.

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign.

Protectiveness.

It feels like he’s being protective of her.

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around.

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother.

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable.

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?”

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his.

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually. Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.”

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact.

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now.

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch.

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.”

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right.

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage.

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her. “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that.

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even?

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things.

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over.

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken.

So unlike her.

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such. “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her.

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man.

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him.

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does.

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing.

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them.

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back.

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom.

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in.

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later.

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously.

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were.

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired.

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat.

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back.

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity.

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target.

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other.

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies.

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning.

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting.

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink.

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really.

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped.

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure.

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear.

It’s just the calm.

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable.

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest.

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes.

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up.

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs.

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt.

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!poc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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