#and also bc i didn’t know how to end it

[charmed-asylum]

GIRRRRRL ONCE AGAIN IM SNAPPING MY DIVA FAN OUT AND SNAPPING MY GOD DAMM FINGER OOOH GIRL I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING LORD MMM MMMM MMM. Nah bc she ain’t that stupid and with Sarah and Wheezie. Lets me realistic give the bene of doubt . What if Ward wanted the land and dad like no whole time. Makes sense why Rafe ain’t moving in to her land but snatch her up and shit. Like if it’s a real thing why didn’t they discuss this with the will or something no out side party to approve of this. You want the land I’m giving you money which again if Ward was doing so much why didn’t they not sale the horse why did they not gain the staff of what not others had and can share if it in fact a REAL THING. Also Rafe you can’t be more idk non bull in a china house shit. What would few days even do huh nothing ain’t nothing but a shit on a cracker. Huh.

Let be realistic you know not only did Rafe lose his shit seeing her in her outfit but I bet even Ward did a 👀. “The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step” I feel bad because again he manipulating her to do stuff but she justifies it with things like oh I like to do it anyway and a thought of what happens if I don’t and do. “ You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine” even at the end all he doing is manipulating her I’m sorry but I’m adding the fact that yes they just met but out of all the girls OUT OF ALL OF THEM he choose her so someone some how she got pick he could go to a shit tone of people but he went to her and they just met how the fuck does Wheezie know shit about her and she don’t know shit about them two days two days she knew them. That’s it.

Again out girl may say she a bimbo bc she got bimbo ways but girl yesssss remember that shit .” When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now.  He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal” I wonder what was the convo between John B and Rafe. Girl don’t be looking at his goods it’s a trap 🪤

Weee we meet wheezie omg thank you father of god huh use her girl use her a s shield. “ You liked her instantly “ When she was talking about what Sarah never had time to do I wonder if reader become that sister wheezie always wanted also what did they tell her regards the reader bc she acting like she should know a shit tone then she does. Does she know of anyone from the neighborhood.

AGAIN OUT GIRL AINT NO BLONDE HAIR BIMBO WOO WOO” It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? “

Do you think the look Rafe gave reader was of possession more than shock or pleasure. Or his tone, Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. He makes me huh “ You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman “ Like 1st chapter I got better things to do now it’s MINE ERRRREREEEE WOOF WOOF 🐶

Sarah ain’t waiting for nothing lol

Rafe touch and firmness Man U need to go tho a year book and jerk off or something. Like damn he in that much of a rush I have to say even Ward should be a little worried like don’t this seem a little unstable and with Sarah calling bullshit even Wheezie shim in like damn .

Rafe sure as hell went from it’s a duty to know it’s about legacy with a puff out chest. Idk I feel he so calculated that what part real or not real it’s like an abusive man or a criminal trying to reason on why they do what they do. I just feel bad bc this reminds me of what she said in part one about family and shit he must of teacher diary ( something I can see him doing) once start talking about this bit I’m like yup he got the biggest breeding kink if I didn’t ever seen one. I’m just huh this shit got me getting high blood pleasure and I read it again I get mad again

rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

part one

rafe cameron masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine. 

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now.  He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe. 

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.” 

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens. 

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments. 

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”. 

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.” 

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke. 

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father. 

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently. 

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute. 

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over. 

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind. 

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.” 

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.” 

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow. 

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next. 

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?” 

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.” 

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother. 

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced. 

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned. 

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.” 

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said. 

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?” 

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think. 

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final. 

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided. 

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up. 

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?” 

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.” 

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless. 

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension. 

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance. 

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.” 

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.” 

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?” 

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?” 

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry. 

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family. 

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about? 

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours. 

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you. 

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away. 

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more. 

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh. 

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic. 

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire. 

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered. 

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.” 

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance. 

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?” 

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.” 

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered. 

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.” 

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy. 

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants? 

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.” 

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

[mmirx]

AFTERTHOUGHT ⋆⑅˚₊

Who were you if not unremarkable? You had finally come into terms that you are someone who was meant to stay in everyone’s shadow, but not until you met Caleb, or so you thought.

cw/tags: PART 3 of this, university au, non-mc reader, frat guy caleb (but not really important), angst, jealousy, self-loathing (please just lmk if i missed more cw, i just cant identify more as of now)

note: idk what im doing lmao kidding nway, wrote this in one sitting bcs it was the only chance i had after the loooong week i had. alsoooo, i take it back, i might make this longer bcs i haven't explored some parts in the previous chapters. PLUS THANK YOU GUYS FOR READINGGGG!!!

word count: 1.7k

You’re at your breaking point—or at least you were weeks ago. Now, you weren’t even sure what prompted you to fill your schedule to no end; leaving no room for any sort of self-care at all. But, you were adamant in accepting the truth that it was not the answer to the hole that Caleb left you.

Nothing can ever fill the part that he took from you the moment you let him in your life because he wasn’t just any bystander that you knew would leave you. When you thought that you were finally worth being a recipient of one’s genuine attention was the moment you should’ve known that you have once again been defeated by the nature of love itself. He curated a room in your life. One that you thought you were the center of almost letting yourself believe that someone is capable of doing that for you.

But now, you weren’t sure at all, no you were, but for the fact that he wouldn’t do anything that deep for you.

The reason? Well, she’s standing in front of you right now. Eyes filled with worry and hint of anger while refusing to let you speak. However, you knew why, mad at you for cutting your connection with them—not completely—by deactivating your social media accounts, and even going as far as ignoring messages and calls with your ‘previous’ number. But you can’t just disregard your own sake to ‘bring back old times,’ her own words to keep up a dramatic flair.

“What? Like four weeks ago?” she retorted after hearing your reasoning about being busy with the conference. MC was right—it ended a month ago, and you were aware of the fact that you haven’t been with her for more than a month. 

“I know, I know but I took up a new volunteering gig…”you said trying your best to muster up a half lie. It’s true though that you joined a volunteering group, but they haven’t even demanded an hour of your life. How were you supposed to tell her that you’ve been neglecting her because of Caleb? Her literal childhood bestfriend?

You stared at her profoundly, and if you weren’t, you would’ve missed the moment she hesitated to say something. What was that?

“Come with me,” she said in a beat, grabbing your wrist, “don’t try to run away this time, got it?”

“Where–” trying to loosen her grip–“are you taking me?” 

Of course, in her true nature, she ignored you. You knew that you didn’t have a chance to flee this, so like a trolley, you let her drag you in God knows where.

Walking for minutes across the campus didn’t feel as irksome as it once used to be. The sun was also present with wind as its companion. Looking around, you realized that maybe you were too busy trying to distract yourself in a way that your body probably hates you for now. Completely oblivious of the fact that you missed out the times that the sun had waited for you. 

Your optimism didn’t last very long though.

Holding your wrist on one hand and taking her phone out on the other hand, your heart almost jumped out the moment she uttered his name. What in the fresh hell?

You heard how she hissed his name accompanied with insults that were somehow out of character of her because they were said as if she dipped them out personally from hell. 

“MC!” you shouted with eyes unintentionally widening. “Is he coming with us?”

But to no avail, she waved her hand dismissing you as if you. You couldn't help yourself to roll your eyes at her. She was literally insisting to spend time with you a moment ago, and now she’s dismissing you because of him? Well, that sounded bitter of you.

Curiosity growing as they spoke, you were about to ask what they’re talking about but—

“Alright, let’s go,” MC cut you off with no intention of letting you ask questions. It was weird, a moment ago she seemed okay, but she looks pissed right now. You knew that she’s hiding her annoyance, it almost made you laugh, where did her acting skills go?

However, it made you wonder, what happened when you were busy trying to avoid them? Did a ‘progress’ finally take place when you were gone? Maybe Caleb didn’t even notice your absence—he might have been grateful too that there’s one less person to divide MC’s attention from him. If that is so, then it’s high time for you to get a grip and move on.

Your mind wandered to possible scenarios that happened between them during the last few weeks. It makes your stomach turn upside down. As if something has flipped your organs  intentionally to rattle you for being stupid enough to like someone, and you hate it. You’re human and you know you’re bound to fall in love with someone, but at the same, at your bestfriend? Really? Were you even his bestfriend? 

Like a bell, you were again reminded of what you heard weeks ago.

No, you weren’t his bestfriend, just a mere someone he didn’t even know how he managed to tolerate.

I don't even know how I managed to put up with her.

What you hated even more is that if he really did feel that way, why act as if you’ve meant something bigger in his life? As if you were a significant chapter in his life. As if one that he needed to make sure to be appreciated by himself and every person in the story of his.

Busy with your inner monologue—about the sole reason you ended up with an unhealthy way of coping in life healthy for the system that exploits you but not for your own body—you didn’t realize where you were now.

Looking around, it’s the hidden part of the campus where you used to frequent with the two of them. You can feel it—something good isn’t about to happen. One that you spent weeks trying to ward off.

“MC…” you called her attention, noticing how busy she was trying to spot something, “please tell me he’s not here.” 

You wanted her to lie because at least that’d bring you comfort even for a moment. The air suddenly felt like it was meant to bring suffocation. Your hands torn between emitting heat to ward off the cold that the weather brought or bringing a feeling of dampness with sweat that you’d always hated. Either way, you felt revulsion towards anything at the moment.

MC was looking at you as if she was silently asking for your forgiveness. Her eyes trying to tell a code that you couldn’t decipher. But you couldn't muster any kind words, at least not until she puts her plea for forgiveness in words. Then—

A voice came from behind you. One that you haven’t heard for weeks calling your name like a prayer. At that moment, you hated how your body responded to his call. His eyes wandered on you as if finally making up for the moments that he’d been deprived of the privilege of setting eyes on it.

It took all your strength to not shift away your gaze from him. 

But you had to face MC, “What’s this?” you asked laced with rage rather than confusion while pointing at Caleb. “And I thought, it was you actually wanting us to spend time together.”

“Well, for starters, I don’t see an issue with me bringing you here to see Caleb? You’ve been avoiding us, and now, you’re mad?”

“I wasn’t but I certainly am now!”

“It was my idea,” Caleb interjected, “don’t be mad at her, she wasn’t at fault.”

Still protecting her? 

“No, I’m not done with her. MC, trying to be a good samaritan?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Helping us make up? If we were thirteen, that would be cute, but for fuck’s sake we’re pushing mid-twenties, so it’s just plain stupid.”

You didn’t miss how her eyes flickered with pain and if your heart was’t throbbing with anger right now, you would’ve reached out her hands to apologize. But how can you, in this state, think rationally?

“I’m sorry. I understand your anger but I needed to.” You hated how even in moments like this, she’ll be the ever-so-nice person that she is. “I’m leaving, please, talk.”

With that, you didn’t try to stop her because what’s the point in trying? This was their plan. 

“Don’t blame her, I insisted on her doing this,” Caleb said, taking you out of your own mind. It infuriated you because what is he truly planning to get from this?

He didn’t see you as someone who’s worthy of his affection. He made that clear when you heard him talking with his friends. That was enough to repel you from his life. Plus the fact that you have been slipping away from him.

What you couldn’t put your fingers on right now is why does it feel like his gaze at you in this moment is trying to tell you a different story?

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, more of an accusement than a statement. 

“If I am?” you tested him. Suddenly, you were back with your habit of biting the inside of your mouth when you’re nervous. Little did you know, he noticed that, because he knows you as if he’d study the book of your life—wanting to be a part of it in a way where he’ll never be written out.

“Why?” he begged, voice dripping with desperation that made your skin crawl. “Tell me what I did.” 

“I’d beg heaven just for you to forgive me.” You averted your gaze from his as you pondered how you hated how convincing he sounded. You hated every moment of it because all of a sudden you were back where you were a few months ago. Silently cursing yourself for being weak from everything that he does, you didn’t get a chance to speak at all.

Missing every wave of emotions on his face, you kept your mouth shut, not knowing what to say because it all felt unreal.

“Anything, just don’t tell me you’re with someone.”

What?

tag(s): @justpassingdontworry @jadeymeciela @i-messed-up-big-time @rxelarailuj @albatrossblues

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐞 𝐗 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ no matter what, you’d never be his priority, after Balhae, you decide it’s time to leave him behind and when he wakes up alone, he realizes how stupid it would be live without you.

warnings_ AGE GAP (not specific but implied early 20s), ANGST, SPOILERS, blood, sex pollen lol, BAD smut (not heavily detailed bc I’m lazy), biotechnology inaccuracies, etc, plot twist at the end, NO PROOFREADING YET.

notes_oh to be in a doomed abandoned space station with gong yoo and making him fall in love with me // I refuse to accept there isn’t season two of the silent sea and that Yun Jae is dead + using salesman tags to avoid the flop.

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

You can’t breathe.

Your hands shake in panic and you start violently tapping at the glass in the window.

“DON’T DO THIS!” You scream with evident pain in your voice.

He only eyes you with something you can’t identify. It’s either guilt or sorry, you guess.

“Please, don’t leave me alone again…” he hears you say.

But he prefers to let you live.

Yun Jae barely eyes you, but he’s suffering too.

The worst part? He wanted to make you believe it so badly. And you do…

Jian grabs you by the waist and urges you to get out with Dr. Hong and Luna. You sob and the sweat mixes with the tears as you make everything not fall apart amidst the escape of Balhae.

You see the moon, the stars, the freezing water, and the darkness of space. If you were on earth, you know it’d be crescent.

How can a place so beautiful cause so much pain?

“We have to keep going, y/n,” Dr. Hong says, patting your back and seeing if you are correctly breathing to save oxygen. “Hold the tears, y/n. You can’t lose oxygen now…”

She doesn’t mean to sound insensitive, you know it.

Yun Jae gave you the signals the moment you met him. It was you who thought he could change. By the grace of love, only silly you thought that was possible.

And as you lose oxygen because you can’t stop sobbing, you understand you were never his priority.

…

Your hand never let go of his. Your touch is warm and he remains cold as ice. The reports can’t assure he will get better. The rescue was full of tension and you couldn’t even remember the moment your feet touched the earth. It felt like the woman who boarded the spaceship and the one who returned were two different people. You got scared, of becoming trapped in the horrors of the memories in Balhae.

His daughter died two days before you got rescued. The body was still being held, in hopes Yun Jae awakened and decided what to do. Without water, even funerals had changed. You didn’t want to be the person to tell him the news, you didn’t want to care for him if he showed progress. Just looking at him being in the middle of life and death made you feel sick.

Your heart was beyond broken and your mind was holding you hostage of your own memories. You wanted to go back home.

And when the doctor returned with reports of Yun Jae likely waking up in the following days, you just got a reason to leave.

You eye the man you love one last time and tears pool in your eyes. You deserved to be free from any trace of pain. And of anyone who caused said pain, even when probably it wasn’t their intention.

Your lips leave a gentle kiss on his cheek and you hold your breath as you leave the cold hospital room. Through the corridors, as you walk, you cross into a familiar person.

“Jian…” she looks up and briefly smiles at you before returning to her usual face. Her hair looked longer and there was an improvement on her, she looked less shy and less quiet. “Y/n…”

“How is Yun Jae?” You sigh, remembering the reason why you were leaving the hospital. “He’s officially stable, he’ll likely wake up in a couple of days…”

“Aren’t you happy?” She asks, showing shyness once again but also curiosity.

“I’m going back home…” her eyes snap open. “What? Why, y/n?”

“I can’t be here when he wakes up” You barely hear yourself, Jian only sighs. “I miss my home, my family. I’m tired of waiting for a man and needing him to love me back”

She looks understanding, and Jian slowly nods.

“I understand” She offers you her hand to shake and it’s enough to make you smile because you consider the gesture as a silent ‘We’re friends’.

“I will call from time to time” She nods as you smile at her. “And no matter what, if Yun Jae wakes up, you don’t know where I am”

The agreement disclosure isn’t much of Jian’s liking. She believes Yun Jae loves you too. But she had said it to you multiple times in Balhae and you never believed her.

“Take care of Luna” you lastly say.

“She’s in good hands” Both of you smile again before you leave.

Your throat feels sore, and you feel like you are choking as you try to reach the exit of the hospital.

When you feel like you can’t take it anymore, you start jogging towards a restroom. You lock inside a stall. The quiet public space is interrupted by the disgusting sound of you vomiting.

Curious thing, your vomit was transparent liquid. Just water…

[one month ago]

To say the place you were habituating was cursed, was right. Balhae had proven to be a mystery and danger in less than twenty-four hours. Two people of the crew had died. You barely knew anyone and the captain was the last person you wanted to interact with. Han Yun Jae and you met in a bar. Where drinks were expensive, people judged and everyone mourned something. He grew curious because you looked young and too sane to have access to fine drinks. But it was you who exchanged the first words. There wasn’t much talk before you ended up naked and letting him fuck you in your apartment. He was soft and rough, his hair fell upon his forehead and he prioritized your pleasure before his.

Until there was no trace of him in the morning.

No note, message, nothing.

But why were you expecting such things for starters? He was a man after all…

So when you realized it was too late to back up from going to space, you accepted Han Yun Jae would be your captain whether you liked it or not.

“Do you have the map?” He asks, pointing at the dark alleyway with his flashlight before returning his attention to you.

“I thought everyone had it” he has eyes like you he’s facing the most stupid person in the world. You simply shrug uncomfortably, ignoring his eyes.

“Yes. But I’m specifically asking if you downloaded it” You resist the urge to roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“I have it downloaded. Happy?”

“That attitude won’t get us to the food storage,” he says and your hands form firsts. Before stepping closer to him.

“Then fucking stop judging every step I give!”

“I’m not” Yun Jae firmly says.

“Every single time. I know things are hard for everyone, mate. It sucks we had to lose two crew members so early. And I’m sorry we have to work together after our one-night stand. But I know what my job is and I don’t need you picking on me because you think I’m gonna mess up everything” The anger in your voice was hard to miss.

“Once we’re all settled in, we should talk” he attempts, but you won’t agree.

“There’s nothing to talk about” You push past Yun Jae and quietly continue following the path to the food storage.

The captain only stares as you walk away, hands on his hips and sighing in defeat.

He just wanted to protect you.

…

A trail of blood grows as Tae Suk and Yun Jae pull you up, you had just gotten out of the basement where all the lunar water was.

You start holding the tears as your brain processes the pain and you look at your leg.

“You’re losing blood” Doctor Hong alerted, moving you away so the rest of the crew could get out of the growing flooded basement.

“The plant…” you barely say.

“That’s not important right now,” Yun Jae says getting into you and Doctor Hong. You barely eye him, but you know he was fixated on you. “Tae Suk, help me out here…”

Both men slide their arms under your armpits and tangle them around your waist to help you stand up.

“Yun Jae, please bring the plant” you plead with him, starting to see blurred spots through your vision.

He doesn’t reply. The man feels his heart beating faster as your body starts feeling heavier.

He almost yelled when he heard you slipped from the emergency stairs. With the panic of water flooding the place and the mysterious intruder in the base, Yun Jae was hyperventilating when you came out, your suit ripped all the way up your left leg, and blood washing the floor.

Once the door was locked again, he took a breath, the way to the medical aisle felt shorter. Doctor Hong stepped in and helped to place you on a stretcher. You are awake but it was evident you were disassociating.

“I’ll take it from here” the doctor announced and everyone stepped back, except for Yun Jae.

“Is she going to be okay?” Both women apart from you looked at him with subtle arched brows. Soon Jian connected the dots and repressed a smile.

“I promise”

…

Without the sense of time passing, you find yourself in endless agony until the serum pumping through your veins finishes. You remove the needle yourself and it stings, but not as much as your wounded leg.

It was a fluke you could walk without much problem, but the area would be sore for a couple of days, and the suit wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable thing to wear.

Anyhow, the plant found in the basement under the database of Balhae rested in a crystal case on a table near the stretcher you were placed in.

Soon you are dressed again, in joggers and a tank top, but there are gloves, goggles, and a face mask covering you.

The leaves of the plant were oddly thin, the green was just too bright that you almost considered identifying them as neon green. It was dangerous to conduct research given that some of the lunar water must be included in the plant’s DNA.

You’re so concentrated in the process that you don’t see a figure entering the lab.

“How dangerous is the research?” You jump out startled. Your hands drop the cold tweezers and hold onto the table.

Yun Jae stands there, cautiously looking at the plant.

“You scared me to death…” you say, ignoring his question until your heartbeats return to normal. He waits until you take off the gloves and goggles. “It’s not as dangerous as the lunar water. Seems to be less invasive and corrosive”

He nods before tilting his head. You were trying your best to ignore him. But your hands start sweating, a good indicator of how nervous he made you.

“Listen, y/n… I feel like we need to-”

“I don’t want to talk about it” you firmly say, interrupting him and taking the tweezers again.

“Do you regret it?”

Yun Jae was never good enough with words. He lacked the emotional vulnerability to speak his mind. But he was a sensible man, only that he unconsciously locked himself so nobody could see that.

He didn’t know why he suddenly needed to be okay with you. He couldn’t say loved you, he barely knew you, but he was growing fond of you too quickly.

And you hadn’t answered yet…

You contemplate answering. But you don’t…

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it” You carefully grab the plant, rushing to move away from Yun Jae.

But he had other plans.

First, you felt his big hands on you. Left on your hip and right on your forearm. He made you turn back to face him and you stare nervously.

If tension could speak, it would scream.

The proximity was making you even more nervous. And how couldn’t he?

Yun Jae was handsome; tall, had warm eyes, and confident touch. If he hadn’t left without a trace a month ago, you would’ve believed he was a gentleman.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

You can feel the plant in a case being the only thing between, preventing your chests collide with each other.

He doesn’t answer. He just feels your fingers shaking, holding the plant to dear life.

Why he just couldn’t say that he cared for you and never wanted to hurt you in the first place?

“Smells sweet…” he says and you frown, confused. Until the smell hits you and you realize both of you have been inhaling the toxins of the plants without any protection.

“Shit…” you drop the plant and the case shatters, the crystal cracking into million pieces. But not even the loud sound came to be important because the moment you raised your head, you had Yun Jae kissing you.

It took you by surprise at the beginning. And when you were about to pull backward, you felt it.

The warmth growing from your chest down through your ribs, until it has you feeling wet… down there.

Yun Jae gets closer, taking advantage of the proximity, and holds your waist.

You were melting, unable to control the sudden sensation of carnally needing him so bad.

The plant was an aphrodisiac?

“Yun Jae… the plant” you try to say, but he can’t stop kissing you. And you weren’t doing much to stop it.

Your ass was pressed against the table, you want to lay on it and spread your legs for him, but there was a little auto control in your left.

“Let me have you,” he says, almost whispering. You know he’s not thinking straight, but he means everything his mouth says until the effects pass.

The next three hours feel like five minutes. The abandoned dorms were untouched, and clean, and had bunks big enough to allow Yun Jae to fuck you over there.

On your back, on your side, on all fours, on top, you did everything. Until that moment you realized women were capable of so many orgasms.

Maybe both of you passed out when the effects of the plant subsided.

“Why you didn’t leave a note or anything?” you’d ask after waking up in his arms and feeling him holding your hand.

“I wanted to stay” he answers, sounding honest enough to believe it.

“Then why you didn’t?” Yun Jae chuckled.

“I had accepted the mission of Balhae a day ago, I thought I was never seeing you again” you smile, happy to finally understand him. “It was better to leave rather than stay and get to know you. With no attachments, this would be easier, but…” you nod, kissing his cheek.

“Can I get to know you now? Given that we’re straddled in the moon…” he chuckles again, kissing your temple this time.

“Yeah, I think that’d be fair”

You wonder how much time both of you have left before the crew starts asking where the hell the two of you are.

“And if we live enough to go back home, let me take you out…”

“Like a date?” he rolls his eyes but ends up nodding while smiling.

[In the present…]

The sky was always dusty and the heat was unbearable, but the government had implemented a way to protect the households from overheating. Your access to water was almost unlimited but you liked to save the most you could.

Despite it all, it wasn’t that bad. You were close to your family and your days were busy.

You had been in contact with Jian, she said Luna was showing progress and that there were chances of studying her DNA. You never asked for Yun Jae. But you were always thinking about him. While cooking, eating, cleaning the house, before bed, you were always thinking about him. It had been ten months since you saw him the last time

There were nights when you’d wake up from nightmares about feeling like you were drowning. Till that day, you didn’t know why you vomited water. You left the organization in Korea, so you had no updates about the lunar water other than what Jian said over the phone.

The nightmares about Balhae weren’t constantly haunting you, but when they did, that’s when you needed Yun Jae the most.

Cleaning up the fridge of your house, you look at the clock and you sigh, noticing it’s getting late. You had a report due at midnight. It was almost done, and it contained a hypothetical plan to search for a tree that could slowly bring back the normal water. You turn off the light in the kitchen and you stay looking at the living room.

There was your little joy.

In an improvised bassinet, your baby was sleeping.

Min Ho was two months old. Almost three…

His father was alive, but likely, he’ll never know.

Or so you thought because someone knocked at your door.

You open the door, not ready to be shocked.

You expect anyone; family, friends, your boss. Anyone but him…

“Han Yun Jae…” You swear blood stops running through your body as you see him standing at your door.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you move aside, eyeing him.

Both of you stare at each other, trying to describe who were they facing.

His hair was shorter, and he looked less tired, but you knew he was grieving his daughter’s death. The tattoo of him you hated so much was visible through the sweater he was wearing. He looked fine as always.

He sees there's a big change in you, but he can’t tell if it’s your shorter hair or the way your body looks different. He still finds you the most beautiful woman his eyes have seen in a very long time.

And he knows he can’t lose you again.

“I’m sorry…” he says, trying to remain strong and face you.

You are speechless. For some seconds you don’t know what to do. Then you walk towards him and you raise your hand to slap him. But you don’t, because you can’t.

“You leave me… every single time” his arms immediately wrap around you.

Yun Jae feels terrible. He can feel himself growing teary. But you immediately feel his warmth and you find a new reason to keep living.

You missed him so much.

“I’m so sorry” he adds.

“And you hurt me… every single time” he fights the urge to end up sobbing with you. Instead, Yun Jae focuses on holding you tightly.

“I thought I was saving you”

“Deciding if I wanted to risk more for you was my decision to make, Yun Jae” he nods, brushing your hair as you sobbed.

“Yeah, now I understand it…” he started kissing your hair and it soothes you more than it should.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

“When I woke up, you were gone. I spent months asking Jian if she knew anything. She refused to tell me until I questioned if I should stop looking for you…” you stand stiff, wondering if your friend told him about a certain little human sleeping in the living room. “Jian said there was another reason to keep looking for you…”

You sigh, the worst that could happen was that he would leave. Forever this time…

You tell him to stay quiet and to follow you.

Yun Jae secretly looks around your place, noticing how neat and comfortable the place is.

You expect him to get out of the house as soon as he steps into the living room.

But he stands there quietly, acknowledging the baby sleeping on the floor.

The baby is dressed in a green onesie. His skin looks slightly dry but given the circumstance of the weather, he understands. He has matted dark brown hair, almost black. And he doesn’t have to question the obvious, the baby doesn’t have your eyes nor your nose.

It’s a boy…

That was the reason Jian was talking about.

He kneels to brush the back of his hand with the chubby cheek of the baby. Yun Jae instantly feels his eyes getting wet.

“His name is Min Ho, he’s two months old,” you say, kneeling beside the father of the kid. “And of course, it’s your son…”

Yun Jae silently asks if he can carry him and you nod.

He couldn’t process all the emotions he was feeling at that moment. All he knew was that looking at Min Ho caused him joy and pain at the same time. He would always love and miss his daughter. But holding a newborn when he thought he would never see that coming again, was pure happiness.

“Are you leaving again?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Yun Jae locks eyes with you, he savors the sight of your face and knows he wants to see it every morning and every night.

“Never…” he leans and you softly bump your forehead with his, silently forgiving and allowing yourself to stop grieving.

…

The smell of food fills the room. You served two plates and returned to sit at the dining table. There wasn’t enough food but it was okay for you and Yun Jae.

Min Ho had attached to him well. Both of you bathed the baby and felt so odd and domestic at the same time. He told you everything about him, from before and after Balhae.

There’s a secret agreement to stay together. You could easily find a job for him. He could rest a little and take care of your baby. Whatever he wanted to do, you would be okay with it. And he would rely on his promise. Because he never wanted to leave you again.

“I’m still surprised that he’s healthy…” you stop typing in your laptop to eye Yun Jae.

He looked so natural burping the baby. Then you remember he wasn’t new at parenthood. And you hoped Min Ho wasn’t being a painful reminder of it.

“He was premature. But I’m using all of the resources for him. My family has also sacrificed a little bit of theirs for Min Ho”

“I must thank them…” you smile, grabbing his free hand.

“There’ll be time for it…” he nods and you return to typing.

“Wait… So got pregnant on the moon?” Both of you start chuckling.

“Yes, give me my Record Guinness”

The moment of cackling is interrupted by Min Ho cooing.

“He wants to participate in the conversation too,” you say.

Yun Jae looks down at his son. He looks mostly like him, but he has your lips and skin.

Then he looks back at you and sees you invested in writing something.

“What are you doing?” He asks, standing to stand beside you.

“It’s a report, let me submit it…”

Some minutes of silence between you two, just the coos of Min Ho, and then you finally close your laptop.

“So, we’ve found a tree in South America…” Yun Jae widely opened his eyes, looking expectantly at you. “I’m waiting for researchers to bring some evidence”

“We need the evidence to survive the trip back, I’m leading the experiment,” you say, looking away at your sleeping daughter. “If we succeed, we’ll be able to produce water”

Yun Jae hugs you, his big hand caressing your head in his chest, the other holding Min Ho.

“I’m so proud of you” You smile, accepting the compliment and feeling like you are slowly freeing your love for him.

…

It’s at night when you finally accept you have been in love with Han Yun Jae before you could even accept it.

You lay naked in bed, with him on top of you, kissing you softly and possessively.

“I missed you so much”

“I missed you too” he kisses your forehead and proceeds to rub your folds with his length before pushing in.

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling after ten long months.

Yun Jae is fascinated by touching the body of the woman who gave him a child amidst chaos and horror. He can see that you went through changes, the color and size of your breasts, the softness in your stomach, the stretch marks in your inner thighs. He finds beauty everywhere. And at the same time, it drives him crazy.

“Please, harder…” you beg, barely able to talk because he feels too good. The way he slides in and out, stretching you each time no matter how wet you were. You have to bite your tongue to not wake up little Min Ho.

“You want it harder, baby?” You nod and he makes your wishes come true.

“I love you…” he doesn’t stop, he leans down and kisses you before answering you.

“I love you too”

It had been worth the wait.

…

Yun Jae hears you and Min Ho laughing. He was turning two years old and you wanted to celebrate his birthday with your family.

Yun Jae thanked them as he promised.

He was placing the cake you had ordered in the fridge and upon hearing the constant yells and laughter, he went out to see what was happening in the backyard.

He smiled at the sight.

It was Min Ho’s first time using a pool.

Rain was coming back, and woods and jungles were growing green again. Irrigation systems started being used again and the world was healing.

Yun Jae thought both of you would die on the same earth without water, but probably allowing your baby to grow up with hopes of having it again.

To his surprise, he was celebrating his son’s second birthday and soon he would have to buy a first anniversary wedding gift.

“Yun Jae, come to see this!” He hears you calling him and he gets closer, taking a seat in the towel you placed on the floor for him.

He watches Min Ho splashing water everywhere and he has to hug you because the moment felt like it was dream.

But it was real.

————

I’m ignorant, someone pls tell me the correct way of writing Korean names. For example is it…

a. Han Yun Jae

b. Han Yun jae

c. Han Yun-Jae

d. Han Yun-jae

e. Han yunjae

[tea-writes19]

snapshots | s.w.

pairing: sam wilson x f!torres!reader

summary: being the new falcon’s sister comes with some perks

warnings: latina reader, friends to lovers, reader is sam’s social media manager, swearing, fluff, comedy, suggestive content, minor ca:bnw spoilers, slow burn

a/n: based on this request!! i hope this lives up to your expectations nonnie! also i’m not latino so i apologise if the spanish and mannerisms are off! ps i’m sorry this is so late, i fell into a bit of a writers block

liked by joaquintorres, samwilson, and others

yourusername: new job alert🗣️📢

tagged: @/samwilson

view comments below

user1: ooohhh can’t wait!!

user2: congrats!

samwilson: you couldn’t have picked a better photo?

yourusername: it’s called authenticity samuel

yourusername: now let me do my job

samwilson: 🤲🏾🤲🏾

user3: can’t wait for more pics of sam like this😭

user4: frfr

user5: same😭😭

joaquintorres: you think this is how nepo babies feel?

user6: 😭😭

yourusername: guess you could call me a nepo sister

user7: omg omg omg

user8: best social media manager goes to y/n🏆

yourusername: i’d like to thank the academy…

user9: pls you’re so funny✋😭

yourusername: i try🤷🏻‍♀️

liked by sarahwilson, joaquin torres, samwilson, and others

yourusername: i call this one the ‘they suck at pool’

tagged: @/joaquintorres @/samwilson

view comments below

user14: tagging them is hilarious work

user15: ^^^

user16: tbf i would so do that too😭😭

sarahwilson: invite me next time so it can actually be a competition

yourusername: why do our brothers fucking suck??

sarahwilson: bc we got all the cool genes😎

samwilson: what one of us is captain america again?

user17: 😭😭

joaquintorres: that is so not true!! @/mamatorres mami y/n is being mean

mamatorres: y/n be nice to quino

yourusername: @/joaquintorres snitch

user18: can’t believe joaquin snitched😔

yourusername: he’s a little bitch i know😐

joaquintorres: I GOT YOU A JOB!!

yourusername: okay? you’re still a little bitch…

samwilson: i’d like everyone to know i came in 2nd

yourusername: 2nd place is just the first loser

samwilson: 1st is the worst, 2nd is the best, 3rd is the one in the polka dot dress

user19: not the school-yard rhyme😭😭

joaquintorres: i would rock a polka dot dress and you know it

samwilson: brb petitioning to change your uniform

user20: love how y/n is feeding us with candid sam pics

yourusername: have to pay the bills somehow

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: mami asked him to take the trash out and this was his reaction; hispanic men ain’t shit]

story replies

joaquintorres: PLEASE I DID IT RIGHT AFTER THIS

yourusername: yeah bc mami threatened you w/ the chancla

user21: you’re so right girly

user22: when you’re the first-born daughter in a hispanic household😔✊

yourusername: PREACH🗣️

user23: dated a mexican boy in high school…it didn’t end well

user24: why are they always mama boys too😩😩

liked by samwilson, mamatorres, joaquintorres, and others

yourusername: dream team: they fight bad guys and i post about it⭐️📷

tagged: @/joaquintorres @/samwilson

view comments below

user24: the best team!!

samwilson: if anything y’all are the sidekicks

yourusername: i’m going to tell sergeant barnes you said that

samwilson: don’t you dare…

user25: i’m crying😭😭

joaquintorres: surprised how nice you’re being

joaquintorres: you’re up to something aren’t you

yourusername: wouldn’t you like to know weather boy

user26: and we love you for it!!

user27: i bet sam is so happy y/n finally posted a good pic of him on her page

yourusername: he’s jumping up and down as we speak

user27: love that😭

user28: omg🤣🤣

user29: video of y’all swapping roles for a day when

samwilson: never bc y/n would die and mama torres would kill me

joaquintorres: but at least i’d get the full inheritance

yourusername: you guys have no faith in me and it shows😒

user30: damn is joaquin single🥵

yourusername: the fuck?! don’t thirst for my brother on my account

joaquintorres: yes i am!

liked by yourusername, sarahwilson, buckybarnes, and others

samwilson: downtime in delacroix☀️🌊

tagged: @/yourusername @/sarahwilson @/casswilson

view comments below

user31: y/n and no joaquin??

user31: suspicious

yourusername: had so much fun!

sarahwilson: you’re welcome anytime!! loved having another woman in the house

yourusername: oh you bet your ass i’m going to abuse that welcome now🤭

samwilson: i never should’ve introduced you two

user32: omg please tell me you and y/n are dating!?

user33: fr…bit strange how only she was there and not joaquin🤨

user34: YES!! i so hope they are

buckybarnes: tell sarah i say hi

samwilson: no

sarahwilson: hi bucky😁

joaquintorres: can’t believe i had to spend the week in meetings in dc while y’all swam in the ocean

yourusername: suck it bitch😎🖕

user35: justice for joaquin✊😔

user36: ^^^

samwilson: oh god they’re thirsting on my page too😖

yourusername: disgusting🤢🤢

joaquintorres: @/samwilson @/yourusername 🖕

user37: brb planning a trip to delacroix now

user38: oh my god stalker alert

user39: leave sam’s family alone!!

yourusername: i want everyone to know i’m a boss at water-gun fights

casswilson: best team😎

yourusername: you know it🥳

samwilson: whatever😒😒

liked by sarahwilson, joaquintorres, samwilson, and others

yourusername: southern sunsets >>>

tagged: @/samwilson @/sarahwilson

view comments below

sarahwilson: miss you already!!!

yourusername: wish we could have stayed longer😩😩

user40: slide 3 looking a bit sus y/n

user41: ^^^

user42: fr…

user43: i need to know where those swimsuits are from🙏🙏

joaquintorres: latinas latinos*

yourusername: 🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️

user44: 😭😭

samwilson: told you the south is good for some things…

yourusername: beignets😩

user45: mardi gras😩

user46: sam wilson😩

yourusername: ^^^

user46: wait a sec—

user47: i need to know what’s going on between y/n & sam

user48: oh to be a fly on the wall

user49: yessss

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: back to your regularly scheduled programming]

story replies

user50: the leg placement👀👀

user51: wanna tell us smth y/n??

user52: more joaquin incoming🥳🥳

yourusername: NO—

joaquintorres: oh thank god…please save me from ross

liked by samwilson, mamatorres, sarahwilson, and others

yourusername: life recently :)

view comments below

samwilson: surprised you didn’t put an ugly pic of me

yourusername: don’t worry i debated it

user53: IS THAT SAM?!?

user54: i feel like a spy searching for clues

user55: omg so real😭

user56: i wanna be y/n when i grow up

user57: y/n doesn’t post for 2 months and comes back to soft launch

user58: she’s so me coded

user59: i wonder what joaquin thinks of their relationship😭😭

user60: omg he’s so the third wheel i bet

joaquintorres: love how i’ve just been cut out from your posts…

yourusername: the fans were getting too thirsty

samwilson: it was stressin’ us out

sarahwilson: i’ll kill sam if he hurts you

buckybarnes: i’ll kill him for a slice of pizza and a cold drink

joaquintorres: i’ll kill him to be added back in your posts

samwilson: you all suck🖕

user61: 😭😭

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: that is america’s ass😏🤭]

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

[weirdmageddon]

#Jackson said this one is gonna have all my issues Doc you take Dean #I’m sorry but that was definitely Jackson going 🙂😐 #venture bros #vbros #this show is literally Man the show #Ik it wasn’t on purpose but the relationship to Masculinity and what makes you a man is a repeat in this show #Dean trying to separate himself from his dad just to realize he’s a clone then realizing so is his dad #his fear of not being the orginal or the real one in reality terms men trying to figure out what type of man they are especially if they #were never traditional or grew up with the tradition mindset end up having this vibe #I also think in a weird traditional way Dean is Rusty do-over which freaks him out #the idea of legacy is something Dean keeps running from the idea you end up similar to your parents too etc #hank is the opposite in he is secure in his masculinity and being a man #Hank thing is heart so he feels lacking in love am I loved? can I be loved? who can love me if i didn’t have a mom? #hank is torn up about a mom bc the traditional stereotype is love #so no mom is hank wondering if all his relationships are doomed to be devoid of care. especially with women it nags at him #and ultimately is proven in the show his relationship with women isn’t god awful like his dad but it’s not good either #Hank accepted that Rusty loves Dean unconditionally and louder if he had a mom would she love him like that? #would she once she sees him look at him and see herself and they have the relationship Rusty and Dean have? take after her footsteps? #weird enough Hank’s focus on this makes the topic of mothers far more important in the show which still isn’t shown #wish they had more time to get into Hank ik they wanted to #I think Hank was gonna be the end part of vbros no matter what. his story to me felt like that #I can see him once he figures out his personal stuff leaving bc Hank once he does like Dean was always going to leave #I think also there’s something to be said how Hank’s relationship with femininity is the same as masculinity #a can-do gung-ho attitude which is Hank yeah but that’s interesting to me still especially on the idea of women in hanks head #I think he has a lot of hope in his mom. a hope he would get disappointed by now knowing who it is lol #the hope is “maybe I’ll see myself in someone and they’ll see me and love me”

wait what’s this about jackson OH

source: A repository for our obsessions: Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer talk Venture Bros. season 7

i’ve heard and read countless interviews with them, i already knew they wrote so much and designed so much after their own life experience but that fact about jackson not having a mom never came across my radar. but that makes so much sense because the emotions feel real coming through hank.

honestly the venture bros deals with some heavily jungian topics even if entirely unintentionally. it’s like they’re stumbling over the same basic things but exploring in a different way, brought out through a cartoon as a vessel for it. when i got to this page that’s the first thing i thought of was, “oh what the hell. that’s exactly the differentiation concept jung was on about. they’re demonstrating that journey through the writing process of the show itself.”

i think that is because doc hammer and jackson publick’s socionics types are LII (Analyst) and ESE (Enthusiast) respectively. i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, while enjoying listening to interviews, commentary and and reading the art book. i wrote extensively about this dual relationship on a forum.

i’ve also talked about these sociotypes before in other contexts, but here i want to point out that carl jung was LII too, as am i. which i guess is why i’m so gripped by these people and their work independently, since they’re a reflection of my own modus operandi. magnetized to it because it feels like it reflects the same way i process and emphasize certain aspects of reality.

jung’s ideas were a big ingredient in the socionics psycho-informational model created by aušra augusta (along with the theory of information metabolism developed by the psychiatrist antoni kępiński). this is what this social-psychological typology model attempts to capture:

“I’ll draw some attention to a typology that was created by Carl Jung and which I slightly improved using the Theory of Information Metabolism of Antoni Kępiński. It makes it possible to look at each individual as a carrier of a particular function in society, which is conditioned by their type of personality or intellect. The type of intellect determines how an individual perceives information from the external world and how this information undergoes a process of selection. This determines the ability to pay attention to one or another aspect of external life: the interests and aspirations of the individual, the direction of their behavior, and their relationship with other people.” (Aušra Augusta, Model of Information Metabolism)

“Through testing his model, Jung became convinced that most if not all of a person’s relationships with animate and inanimate objects were determined by the mental structure of individuals. That is, people have different relationships with things around them, and the reason for this difference is the difference in the mental structure of individuals. Therefore, by using relationships as a starting point, it is possible to construct not only one model of the psyche, as Freud did, but several of them, as Jung did. One might immediately ask: Why were relationships the starting point? As we will see further on, it is because of the fact that the author of the typology was an “introverted” type, whose conscious perception was directed not to objects, but to the relationships between them. Jung discovered the mechanism of how signals perceived by the psyche get selected. This mechanism can be called the code of information metabolism (IM), or the rules of the language of information transmission. The mechanism is formed of eight elements, different combinations of which make sixteen codes of IM. Each person is the owner of one of these codes, and therefore, from the standpoint of Jung’s typology, a person is not only an individual and a representative of the human race, but also a representative of a certain type of IM. Types of information metabolism are qualitatively different constituent elements of humankind.” (Aušra Augusta, Commentary on Jung’s Typology and an Introduction to Information Metabolism)

it doesn’t mean that people of the same type will have the exact same life path or go into the same occupations, as that’s evidently not true. for example, i’m pursuing a more of a medical occupation (i’m extremely interested in neuropsychoanalysis though but it’s such a niche field. becoming a radiography tech is economically safer and more flexible and accesible in these uncertain times), doc hammer is an artist musician-writer-painter. but the types of information and things that they pick up on more distinctly in their mind compared to other people do correspond to each other. the best definition of what encompasses a socionics type is “type of information metabolism; what one wants from others and what one wants to give to others in the most general sense; large-scale behavioral patterns and strategies” (from this article on the limitations of the system.)

“It turns out that the human mind breaks down the world around us into various constituent parts — aspects. Each type of personality receives highly differentiated and realized information about one of these aspects, while information about other aspects is perceived in an undifferentiated, compressed form. Therefore, different types of personality, despite being in the same situations, remember and describe completely different things about them with different words. Stories are described with different facial expressions and emphasize different aspects of the situation. The main reason why one person listens pleasantly and alertly and the other feels unpleasant and tired is precisely due to what kind of patterns in phrasing in which they express their thoughts, as well as the facial expressions, gestures, and intonations they use in tandem with their speech. When an individual hurts another, it is not done so much by their actions, but by the way they explain their actions, which is the motive that they put forward. That is why one individual can be forgiven for something another individual cannot be.” (Aušra Augusta, On The Dual Nature of Humanity, Part 1)

^ i noticed the venture bros actually uses this a lot to comedic effect. having characters in the same situation and the comedy comes from emphasizing their different reactions to the same information.

Orpheus: And the bucket?

Shore Leave: Oh, that’s for the GEYSER of pea-soup vomit.

Orpheus: And the camera?

Hank: Also for the vomit. ;D

Orpheus: Do I even have to ask?

Dean: They said there was gonna be vomit...

that is also honestly THE way to highlight personality differences if you’re writing something, it’s simple but incredibly effective and natural. now that i think about it, it’s also pretty much aligned with scientific principles of experiment design since it’s analogous to having the independent variable (a situation all subjects are put in), and dependent variable (the reactions).

to come back around to what you were saying in the tags though, absolutely. you probably know that doc and jackson commented about this.

Doc: “To me, if you're a creator of something, find out why you do it. And if you're not doing it to, I don't want to sound big pants over here, but try to fucking better the world. I mean, try to make the world a better place. Try to spread the little things that you've learned and the love that you have, and Jackson and I have this very distorted idea of, you know, we grew up weird and we're doing our best to just spread our version of love. Which is trying to find out who we are, which is why we stumble upon these things that would be called toxic masculinity. When we started doing that, that wasn't a term that we thought about. If we even knew it, it was really like, Jesus, why is our dad?... And for Jackson and I, our dad is not just our father, but the media we consumed, and James Bond, these are all our dad. Like, why are they such assholes? (Jackson laughs) You know?” (Interview with The Venture Bros. Creators Jackson Publick & Doc Hammer — Swimpedia)

1:56

Interviewer 1: For inspiration, do you guys go back and read comics in the offseason? Are you guys big comic fans?

Jackson: Uh, I am. You’re not as much, right?

Doc: No.

Jackson: I go to the comic shop every week, but I only buy like two things, so… but no, I’ll get big old Omnibus things… “Omnibi”? of like… Jack Kirby Fantastic Four or something, just to kinda get jazzed about it again, but I never make it all the way through.

Interviewer 2: He’s more into punk rock.

Doc: I like music, it’s correct.

Interviewer 2: So how do you bring that passion? …. into this space?

Doc: It shows up in the show. It shows up in the show. Plus, you know, comics; music… it’s all culture. And that’s kind of what our show is about. It’s not a direct parody of anything but the crap we ingested in our lives, and then we cough it up in jokes.

Interviewer 2: How do you feel the comic book world has really evolved now with the web and how people are interacting with characters in different worlds. How does that impact how you create these stories? Or it doesn’t?

Doc: Probably doesn’t change anything for us other than we have more viewers.

Jackson: (laughing) I didn’t even really know that’s happening. Right?

Doc: Well I mean, you could say that the comic books of our youth and the media of our youth is now the canon of our adulthood. You know? Star Wars has lost its “hey, remember Star Wars”-ness and it has become the mythos of our culture. It’s… it’s big stuff. Our Zeus story is fu- Star Wars.

Jackson: It’s in our DNA now.

Doc: Yeah, and a whole generation grew up on it as a very big part of their lives. So inside of that, we’re indebted to it as much as anybody is.

8:02

Heidi: You know, the Venture Bros. was a show about toxic masculinity-

Jackson: (smiles) Heh.

Heidi: And uh, without giving too much away, this movie does sort of address the female element in it. But it’s still, you know, it’s a boy’s world.

Jackson: Yeah.

Heidi: I mean, was that on purpose? is what I’m asking.

Doc: Well, it’s— you are SO correct, cause you want to say it’s a “man’s world”. It is not. It’s a “boy’s world”. This whole world is not about…

Jackson: Yeah. Yeah.

Doc: I mean yeah, we can go and sit there and armchair diagnose our characters very quickly. Doc [Venture] is a… he’s a… narcissist. He was made that way by his father. And it’s a horrible fucking thing that is real and we have to deal with it in… government. I mean it’s a real thing. It’s just that with the Venture Brothers we were able to talk about it in a way that wasn’t shaming, and wasn’t condoning. It’s a very unique thing that we did, and I don’t think we set out to do it. Just… the topic of toxic masculinity from the first episode of the Venture Bros. was just out there, or at least episode 2. Doc had a father that was an asshole.

Jackson: And specifically also just, yeah… adolescent male fantasy is what the adventure genre is; it’s what superhero comics are. To play in that world—and these are dumb men’s worlds—and then for us to go, “Yeah, well, this is what happens when you don’t have a mommy (laughs) or a reasonable female voice.”

Heidi: (laughs)

Jackson: And any woman you meet is either a femme fatale or a potential love interest and that’s reductive and damaging to the- this is why none of these characters have grown up. This is why they’re trapped in circles of their lives. You know? And our characters are the first ones to start breaking out of it. Like, this is kind of about escaping your… you know… um, generational, parental kinda bullshit to some extent. You know?

Doc: Yeah, not just toxic masculinity, but hopefully looking at it where people could… find a roadmap out! We’re not giving you the answers but we’re definitely pointing and going, “Ehh, you should recognize this paradigm…”

Jackson: (laughs) Yeah!

Doc: This… this is… this is everywhere. That this is the road to forgiveness, that you have to embrace this and not perpetuate it. You know?

Heidi: Right. Right.

Doc: Venture Bros. wasn’t trying to be a public service announcement.

Jackson: (laughs) Right.

Doc: It was trying to entertain you in a way that made you kind of uncomfortable, but go, “…I.. I think I’m learning something about myself watching this mess.” And that’s all we ever wanted to do.

this is why i said this show was incredibly jungian in its essence. it has all of this within it. (see the section starting page 32 in particular)

you’re absolutely right about hank’s arc seeming like the end game territory of venture bros and that “his story felt like that to you.” and i think i could explain.

like jackson himself, hank is also ESE. he also has the ESE structure. both doc and jackson seem to talk about their characters as their inner traits, like about having parts of [character] in themselves when talking about themselves, stemming from an alignment or comparison in some trait parameter(s). the phrase “that’s very Hank of you” in-universe is just a great example of that talk leaking into the show.

they are of course separate people, but the reason hank’s character growth arc feels so right coming at the end of the venture bros is because hank’s own processes are core to the DNA of the show’s creative process itself. hank learns the lessons of differentiation which is exactly what the show is doing and the creators are doing in the process of making it. doc literally spelled it out in one of the interviews above, “we're doing our best to just spread our version of love, which is trying to find out who we are”.

Hank: I mean... I guess I could give it another try out there. Yeah, but I don’t think they’re gonna want to go back. Look at them!

Orpheus: Then leave them. They are the stuff of fantasy, conjured by a hurt and frightened boy who has outgrown his need for them. They belong in this place.

Hank: But they’re! ...(thoughtful) ...Me.

Orpheus: No more than the Hank whose diapers your father once changed, or the Hank who lost his first tooth, or scanned the December sky for Santa’s sleigh. You will carry them inside you always. But their time was passed.

seen a lot of people take “hank has DID” at face value without much thought probably because it’s a trendy diagnosis. my mom is a mental health worker, a very discerning of people’s psychology one at that, and she says majority of the people online who claim to have DID have complex ptsd or borderline. and she’s gotten them as patients and could see it wasn’t really DID. in her almost 30 years of psychiatric nursing she says she’s only seen two cases of actual DID. it’s not nearly as common as you think. so i actually highly disagree that hank has DID. but i totally agree with dean and comatown phineas phage that hank has ADHD and an overactive mind though. hank is definitely neurodivergent and i say it as an autism adhd person recognizing something of my own kin in him. (and hey so is doc hammer, he’s on the spectrum.)

also, remember that this is a cartoon so it can do things in ways that aren’t possible in our reality to represent psychic forces. we can see this intention based on the directing choices, like when The Bat disappears off the screen after hank walks past him saying “I’ve got this one”. hank is having an internal conversation with himself. but you know what’s more likely and universal since we’ve already covering how intermingled jung’s ideas are with the creators’ experiences? complexes. i think hank’s alter-egos inside himself embody complexes with their own archetypal figure.

similarly, you could also see hank venture as a character representing a personal complex (a cluster of thoughts and emotions and wishes) around being motherless that jackson publick could be exploring through the character, among some other traits.

“Publick, who felt Hank (and the Monarch) were the characters who contained the most of him, drawn from “[his] own dumb thoughts, and actions, and misbeliefs […]”

when you think about it you start noticing a fractal.

a couple of last things: all of this reminds me of the values of dual pairs from Romanov’s website.

“According to the author's hypothesis, further developed, all 7 dichotomies of dyadic values ​​are associated with how the subject positions himself in the connecting chain of generations. This is how these features differ between the 8 individual dual pairs that play a role in positioning themselves within their generation. The difference in the poles of features in marriage partners is necessary to ensure maximum genetic diversity of offspring. In this situation, they seem to look at each other, seeing their opposite in the other. But the coincidence of the poles of dyadic values ​​is necessary for completely different purposes - to ensure the success of raising offspring by the couple. In these matters, coordination of actions in the couple, its internal unity is already necessary - so that both partners look, so to speak, in the same direction, and also make efforts in one global direction.”

and what it says about LII-ESE:

LII+ESE (obstinate, farsighted, judicious)

The key value is the willingness to give of oneself to one's children.

The first altruistic dyad. The altruism of this couple is of an emotional nature, connected with empathy towards one's children, the joy of realizing that children continue and develop the best that is in you. Thus, the most important element of life here is parenting as such - as the process of forming the personality of one's child in the process of everyday communication with them in the family or small group. ESE is an ideal mother, sensory caring, involved in the child's life at its early stages, when affection and instillation of a general positive image of the world are most important for the developing personality, LII is an ideal father - non-aggressive, finding pleasure in developing games with children, able to collect the most valuable knowledge about the world and pass it on to children in an accessible form, without threats and coercion, based on interest alone.

saw an interesting link there. doc has said “our relationship is the show.” so in this sense, the show was their “child”, technically. it was their creation. and that’s exactly how they developed it.

also doc hammer is so so so much like me in so many ways. lots of overlap both in internal experiences, our own taste. i was also listening to jg thirwell foetus before i even heard of the venture bros. that kind of if-you-know similar taste. the alternative new york gen x scene he hung around was the same clubs my own mother frequented, like danceteria, CBGB, mudd club, club 57 (irving plaza). she told me his face looks familiar, and they know mutual people (e.g. dj patrick cusack). obviously we’re not the same person but he’s genuinely the closest person to myself i’ve ever known to just exist out there, and for me at least i’ve noticed that’s really fucking hard to do. i mean it. i remember in particular kicking my feet listening to the post-punk podcast interview which i have never done, because hearing what he had to say were my own realizations that i have had and will have. i learned so much about myself listening to his own self-insight at his age older than me; it held this particular weight for me because of that. if you scroll up on that same socionics forum thread i linked earlier you can see me passionately get into it.

last but not least i think this totally explains why hank brings me so much joy and he’s my favorite character my comfort character my imaginary yume person and i feel for him the most out of the whole cast. makes sense i have this deep psychic spiritual hunger for someone like him, cause i feel like he’s complementary to my own self. it’s like your last tag about hank’s hope in what he’s searching for, “#the hope is ‘maybe I’ll see myself in someone and they’ll see me and love me’” like ummm wait i’m doing that. hopefully you’ve absorbed everything i was saying in this post and understand why i feel that’s substantial?

so many reasons i love this show in such a personal way and its creators so fucking much.

whereas dean was tormented by being a clone and hank wasn’t, not having a mom or mother figure seemed to torment hank a lot more than dean which is interesting.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Part 12 of Punk Hazard Dub Watch Party

614

Chopper & Mocha 😭😭

Luffy is out the dumpster

Luffy FINALLY using Conqueror Haki, about damn time.

I love angry Dub Luffy. He even sounds properly grown-up when angry.

“Good.” (Drops him) Okay, angry Dub Luffy is hot wow 😳😳 (makes notes for Merlot & Primroses bcs this would be done by Doffy too, no I don’t take arguments)

615

“How is some stupid gas outpacing me?”

“Because you keep going in the wrong direction.”

🤣🤣🤣🤣

Usopp on the other side of the door where Caesar is, he has the worst luck 🤣🤣

I love when Luffy turns serious. Just love it.

EE DOFFY MENTION.

AND DOFFY PIC

He’s so sexy.

“The world’s most dangerous warlord.” HA, I TOLD YOU ALL, I ALWAYS SAY HE IS THE MOST DANGEROUS WARLORD, love being right.

“Doesn’t it send a chill down your spine?” Not really, no. Smiles are like 10% likely to succeed I’m better off searching for a real Devil Fruit if I’m THAT desperate. And SMILE made Eaters are completely ridiculous, too, so… yeah, I was like expecting Kaido’s army to be scary but it was just… not.

“Doflamingo… the four emperors… tell me, do you truly have the guts to pick a fight with them?”

People really do NOT know Luffy 🤣

“What’d you say?” Dub Luffy is fckn badass ohoho

Proof Luffy is Doffy's D. kid part 1 ☝🏻

Ohoho here it comes.

“I’m picking a fight. That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life!”

And he sent Caesar flying like a boss

Dub Luffy I love you. Omg what a badass

Eee 616 is next ep where Doffy will appear, Dub Doffy my love and Dub Law about to cut the SAD and Vergo in half oooh I can’t wait.

When Dub Luffy gets serious he sounds more adult, which is just wonderful

616

“The craziest pirate of them all.” (Shows Doflamingo) I feel so seen cus my thoughts exactly.

Toei are such Doffy fans, I see you Toei, I see you, thank you Toei. He is just so freaky (in a good way) and sexually shown like he fucks and they want us all to know it and that he would fuck the viewer too which yeah I’n down, is he free tonight?

The absolute fucking silence of Luffy and him just walking toward Caesar while Caesar panics and talks… yeah, he’s Doffy’s D. kid, they’re very much alike here 🤣🤣

Luffy starting to swing his arm to get ready for a punch hahahahaha I love him

“How about you listen to me? I’m not scared of you!”

Law my baby 🥹

Zoro is still lost 🤣🤣

“Well done, Smoker. I can take things from here. Thanks for keeping your end of the deal.” YESSS, DUB LAW IS BACK LET’S GOOO HE IS ABOUT TO CRUSH VERGO YES YES YES YES GET HIM LAW

Law adding that Mr Vergo oh Dub Law is so snarky I love him

“But I don’t think you’ll be sitting on the throne of power forever. Either of you!” YEAAAH!

Yes! Dub Doffy 🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🥳😍😍💕💕💕

“You’re about to lose your right-hand man.” & “That means you can kiss your supply of SAD goodbye.”

“You didn’t see this coming because you were overconfident. You always have been.” God I love Dub Law

“So please, feel free cackling like an arrogant idiot while you plot your next move.” Omg Dub Law is destroying him hahahaha omg

“You do a pretty decent job of acting like a tough guy, runt!” Gosh, Dub Doffy calling Law a runt is kinda cute awww

“Think about what happened last time.” You mfr, Dub Doffy, I have PTSD stop 😭😭 also I love how his voice lowers and just sounds so DANGEROUS when he’s serious and threatening, like wow

“How did that turn out for you?” Gosh, I can FEEL like he’s condescendingly cooing at Law OH I AM GONNA AAAAA

“Not very well. You crossed Vergo. And what did he do to you then?” Law literally from what I remember of that didn’t attack Vergo back then? He literally was crying and begging him to stop. He didn’t cross shit. He was 13 and scared and dying 😭😭😭 FUCK YOU LEAVE LAW ALONE 😭😭😭

I adore Dub Doffy omg

“You remember… I’m sure it was quite traumatic.” Dub Doffy does not hold back that is cruel. Aight. Cut em Law. That’s enough of victim blaming from them for today.

Wohooo!

That’s for Cora, Vergo, you bastard! MY BBY LAW I’M SO PROUD OF YOU 🥹🥹🥹🫶🏻🎉🎉🎉

“Here we are, Joker. I opened the gate.” Yesss, Dub Law! 🥳🥳🎉🎉

“The gears are broken. There is no turning back for anyone.”

Doffy 😍😍 even if he is angry 😭

Tagging my Doffy moots: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @ohnomyhooves @daydreamer-in-training @dummyduck44 @doffyslittledove @shanalikeanna

[prncssie]

STRAWBERRY MERINGUE

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, hobie smokes weed, you’re drunk n contact high, you get it blown in your face, exhibitionism, kinda voyeurism, use of the word nigga, use of the word pussy and cunt, public sex, fingering f. receiving, oral m. receiving, sharing of cum, degradation barely ( use of the word bitch and slut once), choking but not really, brat taming if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, lmk if i missed anything! pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie takes a long drawl of the blunt between his lips. his eyes are half lidded and his head is tilted back. in the dim lighting, you can barely tell his scleras are red but they are, pupils low and moving slow across the scenery.

he’s careful, knowing that you hate the smell. he doesn’t get it, though. you grumble every time he sparks up, claiming the smell reminds you of body odor, until you’re intoxicated yourself.

tonight, you’re indulging a bit, drunk off mixed liquors so you don’t mind. it’s the last thing you’re thinking about when he sits up and slots his mouth over yours. he blows the smoke into you, ending with a sloppy kiss.

you don’t smoke, or at least that’s what you claim. in a way, you don’t, never actually putting the paper to your lips. you just steal whatever hobie gives you because in your pretty, little head, it’s somehow better.

your body feels heavy. you’re so crossed, not thinking about how you’re tonguing hobie down in front of his friends. they’re not paying you much attention, either. this isn’t surprising, not with the explicit details hobie sometimes shares. it happens every party anyway. as long as you are both intoxicated, you’re unable to keep your hands off each other.

you mewl when he adjusts you in his lap, one hand on your back to draw you forward. your eyes flutter and your hands run over the navy blue mesh of his top. his tongue piercing is warm and bumping against the roof of your mouth.

you’re straddling his lap, standing out in the group of punks with your sparkly pink tank top and denim miniskirt. underneath you, hobie is your opposite in low waisted jeans, distressed and dark. his chains are layered and occasionally clink against each other when he moves.

you’re so in love with him and his little v line, peeking through the sliver of skin visible. you’re too greedy, grinding against his studded belt. the rhinestones don’t bump and graze your sensitive parts enough.

“mm mm,” he hums against your lips. “not here.” he kisses your cheek and creates just a bit of space between you in an attempt to keep you settled. his heart swells at the adorable disappointment in your eyes but he knows better than to comment on it. you like to villainize whatever you can to get your way and he doesn’t want to deal with you the way he usually does right here with everyone’s somewhat watchful eyes.

you sulk when he grins. he only tunes you out and takes another huff of the rolled blunt. “you jealous?” he chuckles at the expression riri, one of his bandmates, sports.

her face is contorted in disgust, being the unfortunate one to catch you two at the wrong time. “no, you’re just gross. i’ve never seen a couple so all over each other than you.”

hobie merely raises his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “i told you she was coming. you knew what that meant.” he exhales the smoke in your face again, mockingly sneering at his friend when you welcome it.

you barely hear their conversation between the insatiable throbbing in your core and the need to get inside hobie’s skin. you cling on to him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he rubs your side while you mindlessly litter dark purple hickies along his collar. his hands come up to graze your arm.

it’s his party, or rather, their party. in celebration, his band decided to have a small get together to celebrate the release of their mixtape. it was supposed to be small. now it’s turned into a house party with the amount of plus ones in attendance.

the music causes a buzz in your bloodstream. you’re delirious and horny out of your mind. somewhere down the line, you made the conscious decision to down a hefty amount of casamigos and now you’re dealing with the consequences. “ ‘bie,” you snivel. you take his hand and guide it in between your bodies until his fingers are over the growing and slightly damp spot over your panties. you pant when he applies pressure, swiping aimlessly back and forth.

the dull ache in your stomach is heightened because of his toying. your drunken mind has you trying to push down on him, only for him to remove his hand with a click of his tongue. “i told you not here. gonna have to wait, pretty girl.”

hobie can’t tell if he’s seeing things when your lips tremble. he squints, both trying to examine the details through the haze and deter you from throwing a tantrum. you’re already halfway there, assuming he doesn’t care about what you want. you’re just about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re interrupted, timed perfectly.

“hey hobes?”

both your heads turn, spotting another band member stood to the side.

karl looks untroubled as he crashes somewhere on the couch. he hums as he gets comfortable, eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous smile. “won’t believe what i gotta tell you.

“yeah?” hobie dangles one long arm off the back of the couch. he rests his head on his shoulder. the action both distracts and reminds you of your mission to decorate him in love bites.

you’re unaware of how karl turns, nodding his head in your direction. “some fucker wants to get to know your girl. saw us walking around and thought we were cool, thinks I can make something happen.”

you remain unaware still. the words don’t click in your head, no matter that hobie is speaking right here with you in his lap.

“oh?” he laughs a bit at the thought. it doesn’t bother him and happens more frequently than one would think. he’s gotten used to their gross antics but he doesn’t feel jealous. no, he’s pleased. pleased that someone else can recognize that he’s got the best girl. “hear that, princess? got a second boyfriend.” his eyes are downcast and on you.

you’re too dazed and busy to listen, covering every part of his skin until there is no space left. “don’t care,” you murmur. you’re not sure what you’re uncaring towards but it doesn’t matter. not when there are more important tasks to deal with.

hobie pulls you up by the neckline. he’s not shocked when you’re already glaring at him, convinced that, at this point, he’s torturing you. “you should. it’s rude to not speak to someone, you know.”

you feel so incredibly petulant beyond words. you blow a short breath through your nose. it takes you a second to find it, find your tone and patience. unfortunately, you can’t. “huh?” you snap.

fortunately, hobie doesn’t care. “you got a valentine or whatever the fuck. should go to talk to him.”

you know it’s not really a request.

it’s a game you both play, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see. as much as you hate being ripped away from him at times like this, you enjoy the game, too. it usually ends all hot and heavy, just how you like it.

before you’re standing he holds up a finger to karl, motioning the man to wait. hobie brings the blunt to his lip and immediately shotguns it into yours. he’s nasty about it, a hand groping your ass and rolling your hips down into his.

“jesus christ,” karl mutters. his face is scrunched up and even if the dark lighting, you can tell his cheeks are firetruck red.

yeah, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see.

you grin, patting karl’s shoulder as you stand. admittedly, you stumble a bit. your balance is all fucked up and you probably aren’t making the best decisions. “this will be you one day, bud.”

karl takes your hand in his. he can already tell you won’t be able to make it across the room without aid. you probably haven’t stood up since you sat down, too busy damn near dry humping hobie. “gee, i can only hope.”

hobie sighs, a deep rumble spreads in his chest. “not a scratch, karl.” he takes his eyes over you from head to toe, as slow as he can afford. they starting at your heels, up to the buns on either side of your head.

“we’re gonna go pimp her out, not to war.” the other rolls his eyes, trading his hand in yours to your elbow, both for more support and because he doesn’t know where you put it.

you both begin your trek around the quite spacious living room. you don’t know where you’re going and occasionally, you’re tripping over yourself. it’s not all that bad. most of the fault is because you decided to wear heels and even though they were thick and blocky, it didn’t do much in your current state.

your ankle wobbles and karl has to yank you upright. he doesn’t know how you haven’t injured yourself by now. maybe you are going to war, but with yourself. “what the hell? how much did you drink?”

you giggle with a shake of your head. “didn’t count. it’s fine! ‘m not blacked, just tipsy, maybe. oh and a little high.” you’re really not that far under the influence, you think. most of the influence is pure lust and when it’s subtracted from the occasion, you’re all bubbly.

karl looks over your shoulder. his attention is behind you and you see him wave someone over. “yeah well, try not to bust your ass. i’m calling that guy over now. his name is fuckin’ max or something like that.”

you completely forgot that’s what you came over for. it’s only been a few steps but between your bumbling and laughter, it slipped your mind. “oh. are you gonna stick around?”

“hell no,” karl sucks in his breath. his face twists and he points in pinky at hobie. “i don’t wanna be here when he gets up. you two are bad enough when you’re calm.”

sure enough, he’s still watching with a clear view from the couch in the corner. he lifts his fingers and wiggles them in a wave. you lick your lips at the sight of his hands. your pussy throbs at the thought of them pushing deep inside you.

“yeah, i’m out.” karl waves his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “i’ll be around if you need me. just call, i’ll hear you.” he doesn’t want to experience what you freaks are about to get into but he also doesn’t want to leave you here, faded with a man you don’t know.

he waits until the trade off happens and you’re left semi alone. you’re not exactly shy but nothing comes to mind. you’re uninterested, having already committing yourself to another. “max?”

“mark,” he says. he doesn’t look like anything interesting. sagging his jeans and wearing an ill fitting shirt. definitely not your type. if you lost him in a crowd, he’d disappear. his first mistake would be losing you in the first place.

however, if you want to be tossed onto the nearest surface, you have to push through it. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you flash a smile. you rock back on your feet, only to trip over yourself. without karl holding you up, you find yourself grasping for balance. an honest giggle leaves your lips at your clumsiness but it’s mistaken for delight.

mark’s hands grab at your waist and your first thought is how they don’t compare. they’re much smaller and he definitely isn’t handling you with care. you have to remind yourself not to frown when you’re jostled back onto your feet. “havin’ a lot of fun tonight? your nigga didn’t stop you?”

you can’t stop looking at his hand still holding on to you. if you weren’t turned off by his appearance, you are now with his lack of awareness. you make an excuse to bump his hand off when you “adjust” the top of your shirt. “who, karl? karl and i are not . . . definitely not.”

in mark’s head, this means you don’t have one. even if you did, there’s much doubt he’d care. “so what? you don’t have one then. you want one?”

“um . . .” you flick your eyes over to hobie. you know he’s still watching and knows it’s a universal sign that you can’t take anymore of this. “i do have one. just not him so . . .” you gather your hands together and curl them into each other.

“you can’t have friends? we don’t gotta do nothin’, just chill.” he speaks with his hands. they’re waving all in the air and smacking against each other. typically it wouldn’t annoy you but you really just don’t like this guy. “i mean, you don’t gotta tell him. he ain’t gonna go shit, anyway.”

you scoff to yourself. before you have a chance to defend your lanky little stick bug, a familiar presence subtly appears at your side.

you turn to him before he’s even looking at you.

his hand is on your cheek, gingerly. hobie isn’t glaring, nor is he smug but there’s something about him. as if he knows something mark doesn’t. and he does. he knows mark doesn’t stand a chance, knows he’s going to be upset someone like hobie has you wrapped around his finger. he knows he’s not going like the way he dresses and talks. he’s going to go off to his friends and call hobie a bitch and whatever other caveman words he can think of.

that’s exactly why he doesn’t stand a chance.

“made a new friend?” hobie finally looks at you. his gaze softens immediately and he moves forward to kiss your lips.

“something like that.” you sigh sweetly. even with your shoes, you don’t compare to his height. you have to pull yourself up. your aim is to deepen the kiss, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t oblige.

hobie only pats your butt and you pout. “thanks for comin’, man. we really appreciate it.” he doesn’t offer any sign of respect. it won’t be returned. call him mean, say he’s stereotyping, but he has enough experience to know when someone will appreciate his presence and when someone won’t.

mark grimaces. he gives hobie a once over, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. “this is your thing? shit. if i knew that, i wouldn’t have came.”

you feel something vile bubbling up in your throat. your stomach churns at his words. how dare he? he looks like every other person in the room, in this place that hobie pays for, and insults him like he’s worth something.

“well, it’s a good thing i told you then, huh? leave if you want to. have a good night.” hobie speaks before you do. he wraps his arm around your shoulder and slots his hand over your mouth. knowing your temper, he doesn’t need you making anything worse.

you both watch him stalk off in two different moods. hobie is just as calm as ever. he lets his aggression roll of his back like nothing. meanwhile, you’re grumbling about what a terrible person he is, how you don’t like him and anything you stands for.

“dumb bitch. that’s why you’re weird and bitchless.” you’re more upset he ruined the way things are supposed to go. hobie is supposed to take you in his arms and fluster both you and the third person. instead, you end up grumpy.

hobie chuckles. he massages your shoulder, adoringly watching you go on and on about how he sucks. “yeah? what’d he say to you?”

the thought alone has you groaning and going on another spiel. “he asked if you let me ‘have friends’ and ‘i don’t have to tell you’.” you crinkle your nose. as if you’d ever cheat and lie about it, or lie about anything at all. there’s no secrets in between you two and if there is any ever hesitation, it comes out eventually when the other person is ready. you can’t imagine keeping anything from him with ill intent. “you should have clocked him in the jaw,” you pivot and face him. you’re extra careful not to do it too fast and wrap your arms around his thin waist.

“while you’re standing right here? not gonna do that.” he hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you onto his waist. “you get hurt and i’ll blow this whole place up.”

with your little skirt, half your ass is out. you squeal, a hand going down to maintain as much modesty as you can. hobie is no help. he doesn’t care. his freak ass wants someone to see. getting rid of one person doesn’t mean everyone else’s eyes are no longer wandering.

he takes you back over to your original resting spot without struggle despite your wiggling and complaining that he isn’t doing anything to help you. he plops back down back, smirking when you’re bouncing from the impact. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“you’re done smoking?” you look around the group and don’t see a blunt in sight. it’s surprising from them, considering they always pass around multiple in rotation every night. you were only gone for a few minutes.

“i am. they’re not.” hobie pulls the strap of your top up. it’s fallen and despite the view of your tits he got, he didn’t particularly want everyone else to see them. not yet, at least.

he runs his hands along the tops of your thighs, straddling him. his thumb dips dangerously on the inner and dig into your bikini line when they run high.

you draw a breath, zeroing in on the action. “oh. why?” you can’t hear him when the need comes crashing back, just as strongly as it did before. you were under the impression this wouldn’t be happening and had no idea he planned on doing it here.

hobie likes you like this. he can never really describe it but you melt so easily. one touch, one graze of his fingertips and you’re all soft. it’s nice you can keep up with his libido but it’s even better when he can keep up with yours. “ ‘cause i don’t want to. why do you think?”

you don’t know what to think right now. not when his thumb grazes over your clit so slowly. it’s always you who’s so worked up while he’s so lax.

you rut against him, lip tucked under your teeth. you don’t know where to put your hands without making it obvious. he’s occupying the space in your lap and you wouldn’t dare clench the front of his shirt.

you settle for behind you, resting on your calves. in hindsight, it has the opposite effect but you’re all dizzy. you pant when he rolls the bud under his pads of his finger. you’re simultaneously regretting and rejoicing in the fact that you decided to wear a thong for the outfit. it’s thin and does nothing to dull the feeling.

a hand reaches into your peripheral. you can see the rolled smoke in between it’s fingers but you can’t be bothered to look over and see who it belongs to.

“thanks,” hobie acknowledges it. he leans into it to take his puff and tilts his head back. the remnants are released in the air rather than your face. the smell mixes with his cologne, musky and woodsy. you wouldn’t like it any other time but now. now, any part of him makes your pussy wet.

“thought you weren’t smoking,” you tilt your hips up and further into his hand.

he lets you, wanting you to become as unnerved as possible. “i wasn’t, then. i am, now.” his attention flicks down to your crotch. hobie wishes the lighting is a little better. he can’t see anything like this. sure, he can see his actions but he can’t see the effect it has on you. he can feel the damp spot when his fingers drift too far down and push into you as far as your underwear will allow.

you squirm, tempted to tug it to the side yourself. you can’t breathe under the pressure of need. how much longer is he going to delay this?

“stop movin’,” he squeezes your hip. “i let you act like act like a bitch in heat for a second but now you’re gettin’ greedy.” he doesn’t usually speak to you like this but when he does, it has you gushing. you keen while your head hangs low.

you clench your hands into fists and screw your eyes shut. “sorry.” you say while giving him your best attempt to sit still.

“and look at me. i’m playing with your cute little pussy. the least you can do is look at me.”

you shake your head in refusal but make eye contact with him, anyway. you’re shy, not because he’s toying with you, but because he’s toying with you in front of his friends, in front of everyone here.

“there you go,” he quietly praises you just under his breath, “there she is.” hobie nudges his way against you, nose poking at your neck. “it’s too bad i can’t suck on it till you’re creaming.”

you jump, your shoulder meeting your ear. it’s unintentional, following the way his breath tickles your skin. “don’t say that,” your voice is all watery.

he pulls the your baby blue panties to the side and sucks his teeth. his eyes are rolling at your words. “don’t say that? i have my fingers deep inside you and you’re telling me not to say that?”

“you don’t – ”

your body falls forward when it happens, when hobie plunges in his fingers without warning. your mouth drops open, knees digging into his side when your legs attempt to close. “ohh,” it leaves your mouth long and drawn out. the sudden stretch of his pointer and middle finger makes your body curl.

“someone just sold me these shrooms.”

you hear the crinkle of a bag somewhere nearby and the sound only gets louder. you can assume it’s being passed around but your blood is pumping in your ears. you breathe heavily, mindlessly sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

“i’d let you hold ‘em, hobes, but . . .”

his body shakes underneath you when he laughs lightly. his fingers don’t stop their incessant movements, stroking your walls. “all good. how much did you pay?”

you writhe when hobie digs into your spot, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit. you can feel a small stream of drool pooling out of your cheek. it’s more so with how chaotic you are, tongue and teeth relishing at his neck.

you feel a heavy arm stilling you against him despite your struggle.

“don’t mind her. she’s just being a baby ‘bout it.” he doesn’t apologize for his explicit acts. he apologizes for your distracting reactions, for your quiet moans. it unnerves you.

here you are, worked up and dripping in front of your boyfriend’s friends. they’re so casual about it and as much as you hate to remember, they’re not wrong to be. hobie gets off on this and by default, you do too.

“is she a baby or are you an absolute ass?”

“you’re gonna irritate me and i’m gonna take it out on her.” his lips is upturned and lazy. “so how much did you pay for it?”

you don’t care to listen to the rest of the conversation. you’re very obviously grinding downward to feel him deeper and it only results in you tightening around him with a gasp. you’re weakly tugging his face until he’s turned around.

he’s not exactly thrilled to be interrupted from his conversation but he takes pity and gives in. your lip connect, tongues immediately tangling with each other. your saliva mixes and he sucks on your tongue to satiate you. on occasion, your teeth bump and crash against each other but it doesn’t discourage you. you only lean into it.

his fingers increase their pace and he ignores the cramp in his wrists. he juts his fingers against the spot that has you digging your nails into him.

this is so surreal. you and your friends always like fun at the people who get off at your college parties. you’ve told hobie the stories in the past but he seemed disinterested. now, you’re those people at those parties and it doesn’t sound as bad.

“you cummin’?” he whispers to you and you alone. he prefers to this part to himself, only you two knowing without speculation.

your lifting your hips to escape the stimulation, mouth running dry from the way it hangs open. “mhm,” you squeal. the ball wound up tight in your core releasing, accompanying spurts of cream.

your chest heaving as you gulp out air. hobie pulls his fingers out with a low squelch only he can hear. a low whistle leaves his lips at the where his fingers glisten. you’re expecting him to press them to your tongue but your eyes widen when they continue to extend outwards. instead, they’re all in riri’s mouth.

they’re both eyeing you and you don’t know what to do. your attention darts between the both of them before focusing on the floor. your hands fiddle with your skirt. your face is burning, your whole body is.

“damn hobes,” she mumbles.

you can still feel their gaze on you, thick and heavy.

his hands are running from your back to your calves and back up again. the saliva is smearing over your skin. “i know. it’s better right from the source.” he slides your panties back in there spot and ignore how disappointed you look.

“ ‘bie,” you want to cry. you don’t want to beg in front of everyone but it’s as if he doesn’t care about you.

“stop your whinin’,” he fixes you with a pointed glare. hobie pushes you off his lap til you’re standing. “we’ll be back.” he doesn’t have to explain himself for everyone to understand what’s happening, not that he would anyway. he gets off the couch and takes your hand in his.

hobie takes you with him, guiding you to the bathroom. both your hands are clasped around his and you’re staring at him, wide eyed, rather than your surroundings.

he can feel you watching him. you’re doe eyed and it makes him harder than he already is. it’s as if he’s the only one that can fix it, and he truly is. hobie nearly tosses you into the bathroom. he slams the door behind him and flicks over the lock.

when he turns around, you’re kneeling and pawing at his jeans. you pout when you undo his zipper.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” hobie hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts it to his. “you don’t have to suck it if you don’t want to.”

“it’s not that,” you pull down his jeans . you wrap your fingers around the base and jerk your hand up and down his shaft. “you embarrassed me really bad.” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “can’t face your friends, now.”

hobie pinches your cheek. he mocks your expression before breaking out in a smile. “didn’t look embarrassed fucking yourself on my fingers. i’m not the one who licked your cum off ‘em.” he squeezes your face together until your lips are puckered.

he slaps his tip against your lips and smears the saliva-precum mix across your cheeks. you’re not moving fast enough, too busy telling him “problems” that he couldn’t care about. you don’t even mean them, just want something to irritate him with.

you shut your lips tightly and cross your arms over your chest. he’s only making you more likely to be difficult. you turn your cheek at him and stare at the rug. “not listening to me.”

hobie sighs and runs his hands over his face. he knows you’re delicate and are quick to throw a fit when you feel you have to. if he doesn’t get you under wraps, he’ll have to put in more effort in the long run. “what is it, baby? because the last time i checked, you’re the one who was about to scream my head off because i didn’t take out my dick right then and there.”

you purse your lips harder. “i wasn’t screaming. you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being dramatic?” he cannot believe you right now. he squats down until you’re levelled with each other. his hand engulfs you by the throat. he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you close. “you’re mad at me because you came. most of it was your work, though. don’t piss me off.”

neither of you say anything for the passing moment. the only movement made is the small nod of your head.

he releases you following a quick peck on your lips. he stands and you’re back to your previous task, swallowing his cock. you hollow your cheeks, hands on his thighs.

hobie grips the sink behind you. he has to siphon his strength to prevent from breaking the counter. he tries, he really does to keep himself from fucking your throat.

he always does start off as gentle, restraining himself. he watches you, watches your spit dribble and froth. his hand strokes the back of your head. he’s all langley, long enough to do so with no problems.

you realize too late when he pushes your head down until you’re choking, eyes watering with your tears. they spill over your eyes when you close them and gasp for air when he lets go.

hobie brushes your tears away while you wheeze. “couldn’t help myself.” he does feel apologetic, although he would definitely do it again. he doesn’t, though. not until you’re ready, sniffling and aligning his cock with your mouth.

you relax as much as you can. after his big push, you down more than the last attempt. you’ve never been able to fit his whole dick in your mouth, considering the length. the rest of it is beneath your hands, being squeezed and rubbed.

he can’t help the way he bucks his hips forward. he does feel guilty when you choke but it’s overwhelmed by the vibrations of your temporary struggle. still, you persist. you suck and slurp despite your need for air. you’re a bit lightheaded and grateful when hobie takes a step back and pulls himself out.

he exhales, thumb pressing on his tip and holding his cock still to discourage himself from cumming. you can’t even fathom how you make him feel. he believes even if you kissed him long enough, he could cum untouched. “you’re so good to me,” he wets his lips, the other hand on the wall. “so good, too good.”

you drink in the praise with a satisfied smile. you wriggle your toes beneath you and decide to take advantage of his lack of attention. your fingers dip between your legs and underneath your underwear.

you lean forward just enough to fingerfuck yourself. it doesn’t feel as good as when he does it, purely because your hands are much smaller than his. “hobie,” you call out to him.

his actions to last longer are almost futile when he meets your big brown eyes. “slut,” he mutters and pulls you to your feet.

you don’t hide your smile when he turns you around by your hips and pushes you down over the counter. he flips your skirt up and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

you don’t give him a chance to tease, pushing your hips back the moment you feel his dick lined up with your slit. you grip the countertop until the tips of your fingers are white and devoid of the red tint.

hobie pushes down on your the small of your back. he trails his thumb over your tramp stamp. he looms over you, your back pressed against his chest. “you’re so pretty, honey. y’know that?” he squeezes your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he thinks you look a little better like this, with tear stains streaming down your face and leaving the trails in your powder. the eyeliner you spent so long to perfect is a bit smudged and the highlight in the corner of your hair is gone.

you whine and wiggle your hips. he’s not doing enough. he’s not doing anything but talking about you and that’s not what you want. “stop talking, please.” you feel miserable, shoes clicking against the floor when you shuffle your feet.

“don’t start complainin’, you hear me? i don’t wanna hear it.” he kisses the nape of your neck and rises.

you think nothing of it. you’re awfully confident until he’s grasping your hips and snapping into you. you nearly scream, reaching back and pressing against his stomach.

hobie shoves your hand off his body and holds it instead. “what did i just say?” he much rather you squeeze his hand, nails pressing into his skin. he guides it back to the counter and leaves them both there, his other hand fucking you back onto him.

he’s using you. you can hear the the sound of impact between your skin. you can feel it too, toes curling under the straps of your heels. you can’t keep yourself quiet, moaning into the back of your hand.

for once, hobie doesn’t reprimand you about it. you can already barely stand, forehead resting against the coolness of the composite.

your legs wobble and you’re depending completely on him to hold you up. he’s a little limited in his view, unable to see your breasts bouncing underneath you. he’s not able to see your face, either.

you make up for it in the way you moan. he can hear his name slipping in, muffled in your hand. the other, underneath his, curls and coils. there is no escaping him when you’re pressed against a hard surface and he’s pressed against you.

“ ‘obie,” you pant. you bend your knee and straighten it out as a way to express your pleasure. in the end, he holds it in the air. with both your hands free, you use the hold on the counter to push back against him.

“don’t worry. i got you.” he reaches under your lifted leg, rolling your sensitive nerves between his fingers.

your back arches and you throw your head over his shoulder. your arms tremble as the waves of your orgasm comes crashing against you.

you’re dizzy, falling forward because he fucks you through it. your mouth is open and drool pools over the side. you don’t care. your cunt throbs with over sensitivity and tears begin in your eyes again.

hobie uses your back dimples as leverage. your pleas ring around in his brain but it’s all foggy. he’s so close and it’ll plaguing his thoughts. “sorry, angel. i’m so sorry.” his hand falls beside your eyes. his pace quickens and he has to cover your mouth when you get too loud.

he suddenly pulls out, spewing his cum over your ass. hobie has to take a second behind you, not that you mind. you don’t feel like moving yourself even when your tits are all squished and uncomfortable.

a few minutes pass before he takes some tissue to clean you up with soft touches. “you did so good.” he says, tossing the tissue away and getting another to wipe the slick on your thighs. “my perfect girl. you okay?”

“mhm.” you haven’t gotten up, eyes closed. your hit with an onslaught of sleepiness, your guess is from the waning influence of everything you’ve consumed tonight.

hobie pulls your underwear back up and fixes your skirt back into its place. he pulls your partially limp body up and gathers you in his arms. “are you fallin’ asleep?”

“mhm,” you hum again, coddling into his warmth.

he smiles, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you into the air. he doesn’t have to ask to know you would love to be left alone to sleep so he takes it upon himself to carry you to his room to rest.

hobie really can’t wait until you wake up and he tells you all about how he fucked you to sleep.

[proceduralpassion]

Lol buckle up bc this is a lot lmao.

First off, Dwayne ATE that entrance.

And so glad that Roman seems to be allowing Jacob the space to prove that he’s trustworthy bc we know it’s going to be a long road to Roman not being skeptical of everyone in his vicinity, family or not. In the mean time, Roman being annoyed at how ferocious Jacob is was so funny to me, I don’t know why. Dude probably shouts/grunt loudly when he’s beating people and I just know Roman be rolling his eyes like “this nigga…” SN: Jacob being in the ambulance SENT me

No Solana in this chapter, but man her presence was FELT. I just KNOW it had to hurt for Roman to say that she was killed and wheww I was scared that he was gonna keep up the ruse that Sol was dead with Jimmy and Naomi.

Speaking of, I definitely get both Jimmy and Roman’s side. Roman did what was best for Solana and himself and Jimmy has the right to be upset that he thought his cousin and cousin-in-law were dead ON TOP of mourning his father, brother, and sister-in-law. Like that’s family and I feel like it’s very valid for a family member to be angry at having thought the man you consider a brother to be dead and having that not actually be the case. Like he’s too heartbroken to admit it out loud, but you know how deep the love Roman has for Jimmy/Jey has to run given that he didn’t tell him about how Rikishi was responsible for his parents’/siblings’ death?? Technically, we kinda know that they somehow make their way back to each other given Dreamland, but I have no preconceived notions that it’ll be an easy road…

And WOW, I never really considered how Roman might feel insecure about Jimmy and Jey’s relationship bc I’ve always seen the three as brothers fr. But given that Roman is technically a cousin and has lost all his siblings, it makes perfect sense..

I was an exile truther from the START, but I’m actually so happy that Jey survived bc I was getting scared. I know that Roman and maybe even Solana will hate him forever, but at least he’s alive for his kid’s sake and also for Jimmy’s. I know Jimmy x Jey won’t ever have the same relationship ever again but there’s gotta at least be some comfort that he didn’t die by his own stupidity (his ass betta not ever take a step back in gotham bc me and solana can’t save him after this 😭)

This might be an unpopular opinion, but Dulce should’ve gone with Roman!! 😭 Logically, it makes the most sense for her to be with Solana and I know it would’ve been Roman’s preference too, so I get it, but I was so sad when he came home to an empty house. And then having nightmares and panic attacks?! There’s no one he misses more than Solana, but I know he was missing his girl too 😟 I’m sure she would’ve made things at least a little better for him (or maybe worse bc she’d be a constant reminder of solana).

MATTEO AND AFIA ARE MOVING TO GOTHAM YEAAAAAAA BUDDYY (pebble-man too, can’t leave melon head out)

WAIT don’t kill Alicia off, these ninjas be having her so stressed and she don’t be doing nothing 😭

that ending?? BROOOOOOOOOO????

looking through your eyes + thirty eight | part one

authors note: see at end of chapter.

warnings: angst and graphic depictions of violence. gore. torture. not for the faint of heart.

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

***gif credit goes to @romanreigns ***

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

"We need Tribal Combat!"

"There's no time for that! We need a leader now!"

"We need to follow the order of command!"

"What command? Roman is dead! There is no order anymore!"

"This is why he should have been dethroned a lot sooner! He left us no heir!"

"The child wouldn't be old enough to rule anyway!"

Aleki runs a hand over his haggard face. In a matter of weeks, he feels like he's aged another ten years.

He's getting too old to be dealing with this shit, and that's exactly what all of this is. A bunch of shit.

"Tribal Combat is the way our ancestors would handle a situation like this," he finally speaks. The situation being the fact that for the first time in his lifetime, the Bloodline is without a leader.

Roman is dead.

Solo is dead.

Roman left no heir, thus there is no clear path moving forward for what should occur. The past two weeks since the former Tribal Cheif's murder has been nothing but chaotic to say the least. Aleki is far too prideful to admit it, but a part of him blames himself. He should have known better than to trust Rikishi to get the job done. Should have known that just like he did years prior with Jey, he'd fall short.

Should have known his plan was not without holes. Holes that have left them in the mess they're in now. Allies demanding to know who is in charge, threatening to sever partnerships with a syndicate that boasts no formal, official leader.

A mess.

"And just how do we determine who is eligible for combat?"

Someone, another annoying voice, inserts their question among the mumbled conversations.

Another Elder handles the answer, offering, "it could be open to anyone."

Sione sighs, saying more to himself than anyone in particular. "Nakoa's bloodline has ruled for generations."

"And now his bloodline is all dead," Aleki counters. Cold. His voice and expression are as cold as the ice in his veins. "His son in his stubbornness has damned us to this mess." He gestures around the room, anger growing as he mulls over the situation. "We should have never allowed him to rule for so—"

His pending rant is cut short by the arrival of another attendee, which instantly has him scowling for two reasons.

One, all attendees who were allowed for this audience are present and accounted for.

Two, the identify of said attendee has him pissed.

"Dwayne." His voice is clipped. "This is a closed—"

"I don't give a fuck," comes the dismissive response of the man nearly insufferable as his late, younger cousin. Dwayne saunters over to an occupied seat, easily grabbing the seat by the back, yanking it out and knocking the person to the ground. A smug smirk sits on his face as he plops down and props his big ass feet on the table. Dwayne lifts the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to the top of his bald head. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"This doesn't concern you," Sione dismisses.

"Come on." The 'n' drags on as he props his hands behind his head. "I'm still Bloodline, aren't I?"

"You were apart of Roman's Bloodline, and he's dead now, so you have no place here anymore." Someone, an attendee whose name Aleki would never bother to know, counters with a huff. "Plus, where the hell have you been the past few weeks?"

Dwayne shrugs. "Around."

"Around." Someone else mocks. "Our empire in on the brink of collapse, and you've just been around."

"It's like candy ass small dick over here said." Dwayne gestures with his thumb. "I'm unemployed."

The insulted man slams his fist on the table, shooting up, "you smug son of—"

Dwayne quickly silences him by pulling out his Glock G-19 and shooting him directly in the temple, his lifeless body instantly dropping to the floor. Gasps sound around the table, Aleki angrily calling for security.

"You need to leave now!" He hisses. Aleki glances toward the door, wondering why the hell security didn't come barging in at the sound of a literal gunshot.

"See, I would, but I don't answer to you anymore." Dwayne replies in a significantly more serious voice. Gone is the nonchalant "devil may care" attitude. His big body shifts as he moves both elbows onto the table, gun still in hand. "I only answer to the Tribal Chief."

Aleki hisses. "Roman is dead. There is no Tribal Chief."

Dwayne's growing smile can only be described as sinister and predatory. Knowing. "You sure about that?"

Seconds later, not even a full minute, the sound of grunts and thuds from outside the conference room. The Elders and other attendees looking around in confusion.

Except for Dwayne.

He just keeps smiling.

And an almost thunderous sound is accompanied by two more unexpected arrivals. One significantly more unexpected than the other.

Jacob Fatu's unhinged, crazed look of insanity is accompanied by his big body throwing down two dead guards, their heads awkwardly and sickly hanging from their lifeless bodies. Snapped. Their necks have been snapped.

But, that grotesque sight is severely outmatched and borderline underwhelming compared to the inconceivable sight of a dead man walking.

Roman's hair is down and wild, his murderous gaze steady and focused forward. Brass knuckles attached to a chain are secured to his right fist. The table of men are suddenly in shambles, falling over and working to put as much distance between themselves and the man everyone has believed dead.

Again, everyone except Dwayne.

Aleki can barely compute what's happening before him. So much so that there's no time to react, no time to think, just a tremendous of pain that courses through his aged body. Because one minute, he's in his chair at the head of the table, and the next he's on the floor, an enraged Roman having slapped the heavy metal chain against his body.

The old man cries out in agony as the chain is whipped once more, cutting into his skin and laying heavy onto his already brittle bones.

"Please!" He begs, allotted a brief respite as Roman redirects his focus onto Sione and the other Elders, each being mercilessly whipped with the chains.

Punishment.

He's punishing them.

"You wanna take me out!" Roman's infuriated voice slams against the walls the same way he starts to slam his fists against the broken, bloodied men who sought to see him six feet under. "It ain't ever fucking happening!" Roman lands a bone breaking kick to the neck of one of the elders, killing him instantly. The next is killed not directly by Roman but by proxy, as he screams for Jacob.

Jacob, who grabs his gun and shoots out a window, marches over, snatching the man up, dragging him to the window and not wasting a second of a minute to toss him out of said window.

Onlookers watch in horror as one by one, Roman kills them all in various brutal ways. Suffocation. Slit throats. Snapped necks. A brutal beating with the brass knuckles. Various, violent methods and manners in which each meet an untimely, grisly demise. But, the best is saved for last. Aleki. A thorn in Roman's fucking side since he was a boy.

The older man is barely clinging onto life when Roman easily snatches that life away with each slap of the heavy chain, the brass knuckles slammed onto his face until it's disfigured beyond recognition. And finally, the severing of life is achieved via the slicing of the large hunting knife across his throat.

Heaving, splattered with blood, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, nothing but adrenaline and unbounded rage soar through Roman. His lethal gaze falls on the room of people who've been forced to watch the gory bloodbath.

The faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Good.

Dwayne whistles. "Well, if it isn't obvious, he's not dead."

Roman shoots his older cousin a glare. Dwayne simply shrugs while Roman tips the chair back over, kicking Aleki's body to the side, rolling the chair and sitting down.

And silence. A piece of lint could fall off the wrinkled shirt of the man sitting a few seats down from Roman, and it could still be heard.

Fear.

Fear fills the room and dances off the walls, surrounds the men who just witnessed a bloodbath unlike any.

And then, finally, a brave—or stupid—soul decides to take a risk. Take a chance. "You're….you're alive."

Roman's gaze easily flickers to the man whose wide, horrified gaze is focused on him, trembling finger pointing in his direction. "We—we thought—"

One nod toward Jacob, and the man is barely able to stammer out an "I'm" before his head is violently forced to the side, the sound of his neck snapping followed up with the loud thud sound of it dropping onto the table.

The men around him back and cower away, eager and desperate to escape the death that's already claimed their pathetic lives.

"I was betrayed." Is the first thing to leave his mouth, the word 'betrayal' leaving a bitter, disgusting aftertaste that has him craving more blood. Craving vengeance. "They tried to overthrow me. Tried to kill me, and they should have." Roman stabs the large knife into the table, almost certain he heard someone whimper, as if about to cry. As if they were already crying. "They should have because they killed my wife, and now there's no fucking place on this earth anyone can hide or escape my rage." Saying it aloud is more difficult than Roman anticipated. Playing along with this storyline where Solana is no longer among the living. The discomfort is only quelled by the constant reminder that she is okay. That she's safe and simply waiting for him to return to her after handling business.

And, that's exactly what he's going to do.

Roman digs the knife deeper into the wood. "When I'm done with everyone involved in this shit, the only thing anyone will be able to see is red, and that's the fucking blood I'm going to paint this whole fucking town with." Sitting back in the chair, Roman leaves the knife protruding from the table. "But, until then, I need you all to send them a message."

Another foolish, ignorant, naive soul decides to ask what will be the final thing to leave his mouth before he leaves this room. "Wh—what m-m-message, s-s-sir?"

And for the first time since his entrance, Roman offers something other than a menacing glare. He smiles, but there's nothing humorous about it. If anything, it's predatory.

"That I'm coming."

Similar to the onslaught Roman bestowed upon the now deceased Elders, it's quick and violent. Jacob and Dwayne work almost simultaneously, not killing, but maiming the men. Severed, bloodied pieces cut from bodies. Fingers, noses, ears. Nothing fatal. Just warning enough.

And, it's only when each men has been left with a mark, a sign of Roman's pending revenge, they're ushered and forced out the room. Jacob landing a particularly painful looking blow into the back of the last disfigured, partially dismembered man.

Rolling his shoulders, Roman doesn't even need to instruct them on what to do next. Dwayne is reaching for the laptop, ripping a shirt off one of the dead elders to use it to clean it of the blood. "Fucking disgusting," he hisses, throwing it down once its completed the job.

Roman's eyes cut to the clock on the wall. Right on time.

He's uncaring of his appearance, focused on one thing and only.

Blood.

Roman is out for blood.

As Dwayne works to get everything set up and synced to the large TV screen anchored onto the wall, Jacob stands off to the side, waiting, observing, protecting almost.

Roman would be lying if he said he wasn't skeptical when Solana first told him about Jacob.

Told him how he allegedly protected her and vowed his loyalty to Roman and Roman only, as he recognized Roman as the Tribal Chief.

The only Tribal Chief.

Told her how not everyone in the Bloodline was involved in the coup, and many were waiting for Roman to show up.

Truth be told, Roman is still trying to test that. Test Jacob. So far, he's proven useful, offering Dwayne and Matteo intel and information on those allegedly involved and those not involved.

He's a a hell of a body to have around, capable of the most violent desecration of people. Useful. He's useful, but only time will tell to what extent Roman can trust him.

Can trust anyone, really.

"It's ready," Dwayne announces. Roman breaks from his thoughts, rolling his shoulders once more, ignoring the throb. Solana would have his ass for all the physical exertion. But, it needs to be done.

The sooner Roman handles this, the sooner he can have her back home with him.

Right where she belongs.

Dwayne and Jacob move to take seats, both on opposite sides of the table but in view of the TV that also serves as a casting source. The television screen is then filled with the exact person Roman wants to see next.

"This is a fucking waste of time." Luca's irritated voice is heard, his irksome ass face focused on something beside him. It looks like he's signing something. "Without someone of Italian blood at the head of your table, we have no alli—"

He stops, finally turning to look at the screen, and if there was ever someone to be as pale as Casper the fucking ghost, it's Luca.

"Roman." He all but whispers.

The Tribal Chief remains stone face. "Luca." He tilts his head. "You look surprised."

The younger man stammers, eyes darting around, hardening slightly when he lands on Dwayne who offers a small, mocking wave.

He then narrows his focus back on Roman. Clearing his throat, trying to play off indifference, he straightens his tie. "We were told you were dead."

"Were you?" Luca makes a sound. "I suppose that would have made things a lot more easier for you, now wouldn't it?"

Luca glares. "Just what—"

"Don't fucking play with me," Roman growls. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know you've been trying usurp me. That you were behind that missing shipment. The hit that killed our men. That you sent my brother to spy on me. That you were working with them to kill me."

Roman refuses to name them. Refuses to have their names on his lips. They're not fucking worth it.

Luca, to the best of his limited abilities, tries to remain unbothered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

At that, Roman chuckles, smiling, looking down and nodding. "That's….that's good." Roman can give credit where it's due. Albeit a paltry amount. But, just as quickly as he was smiling, he's glaring. "But, here's the fucking problem, I'm better. I'm better than you. Better than anyone else in this fucking family. I've always been better, and I always will be better." Always. "And you know what else?" A beat. "I'm always three steps ahead."

Luca opens his mouth to respond, fire and fury dancing in his irises when commotion can be heard through the TV.

Roman smirks.

Luca looks to the side, once angered, now confused, and then disturbed.

Gunshots. It's the sound of gunshots.

He curses in Italian, barking orders at what's probably security.

Roman says nothing.

It makes no difference.

None whatsoever.

He just sits back in his chair, enjoying the sound of men crying out in pain, bodies dropping, bullets being emptied into now lifeless corpses.

Luca's clearly shitting bricks, perspiring, gun in his shaky hand. He calls out another order that's cut short by what sounds like the door being kicked open.

Gunshots ring once more, back to back, strategic and aimed.

Luca curses loudly, holding onto his shoulder where he's been shot.

And seconds later, the base of his neck is exposed as another figure stands behind him, forcing his head back, gun pressed to his temple.

Matteo

True to his character, Luca uses his dying words to curse at not only Roman but Matteo who stands with a smug expression, giving Roman only a simple nod of acknowledgment.

Roman smirks.

He sits back in his chair, voice calm and collected. A contrast to the mayhem just unleashed. "Luca." The man in question struggles and works to move out of Matteo's unrelenting grasp. "Take this free advice. If you're gonna go for the devil, you should go always go for the head, because if you miss." A quiet chuckle. "He sure won't."

A loud bang followed by blood and brain matter splattering the screen, partially obscuring the view of Luca's lifeless body slumped over.

Like a bug, Matteo shoves him away, taking the seat, seemingly unbothered by the blood that stains his clothes, hair, and skin.

"It's done."

"Good." Sitting forward, Roman's mind travels to the mental list curated. "Get on the first flight back here."

Matteo nods. "Will do." The connection ends, and Roman closes the laptop.

Looking around the room, he readies to order Dwayne to start seeing about replacements for the Elders council but ultimately decides against it.

It can wait.

He has bigger, important things to worry and focus on, like making his way down his infinite kill list.

The OTC is coming.

---------

There are many, many things on Roman's to-do list once he arrives back home. Many bloody, violent things. Lives to take, primarily.

But, while that remains near the top, there are other things that also require his attention. Things he'd moderately prefer to not have to do but things he needs to do.

It's what leads him a few days later standing outside of Jimmy and Naomi's house. One of his first of many stops during his "revival" tour of sorts.

But, the minute the door is ripped open, and Roman is standing face to face, directly across from Jimmy, a new influx of confusing emotions fill him. The same way they paint the face of his wide eyed cousin.

Roman can see the way Jimmy continues to grip the door so tightly that his knuckles whiten. "It's….it's true." Roman's jaw twitches as he briefly looks away. "You're…you're alive?"

"We need to talk," is Roman's response. He looks at Jimmy. "Can I come in?"

A delayed response is followed up with an almost distracted head nod as Roman makes his way inside of his cousin's home, a place he's been in countless times over his almost 40 years on this earth. But, this…..this has to be the first time where it's felt different. Felt off. Felt wrong.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jimmy breathes. Roman turns around to face him, seeing the shock and confusion melt away into a bowl of anger. "We thought you were dead, Roman. Almost everyone thinks you and Solana—" He stops himself, pausing, eyes widening slightly. "Wait, is she—"

A pause. Hesitation. The moment Roman wrecked his brain over and over again trying to navigate the best way to handle such a tricky, complicated, complex situation. Ultimately, Solana's words and recommended or requested approach taking front seat. "She's safe."

Once the words leave his mouth, there's a semblance of regret. Like, he wishes he had gone a different route. Almost like he wishes he'd continued to maintain the story being spread about the fate of his pregnant wife.

Jimmy places both hands behind his head, walking away just enough to blow out a big breath. "What the fuck, Roman?" He growls, walking back over and pointing upstairs. "You got any fucking idea how gutted Naomi and I been?" He scowls, the anger and relief clearly at odds. "Thinking you and Sol were—"

"I know what you thought," he interrupts, hating his own emotions being at war. "You thought what we needed everyone to think."

Jimmy swallows. "Even me?" Silence. He once again motions upstairs. "Even Naomi?"

Silence

He runs a hand over his face, and in that moment, Roman can see for the first time the toll all of this has taken on him. He looks drained. "Roman….I know….I know what happened was fucked up. I'm not denying that. But, to treat Naomi and I like this when we ain't even do nothing?" He shakes his head. "When I'm already having to mourn my brother and father—"

"The same people who tried to kill me?" Roman interrupts, his voice sharp and even. "The people who kidnapped and were going to kill my wife?"

"I know that, Uce—"

"Do you?" A pointed question, as anger starts to overpower everything else. "Cause you're acting like I did something fucking wrong—"

"You did!" Jimmy snaps. "You kept us in the fucking dark when we deserved to know the truth!"

"The same way you kept me in the dark?" Is Roman's almost quiet response. He sees the way Jimmy's anger twitches, how it's briefly interrupted by what Roman considers to be a valid point. "For years, your father was trying to get ya'll to challenge me, trying to turn you against me, and you never said anything. Never told me shit!"

"I told you, I didn't realize—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did or didn't realize. I had a right to know!" He needed to know. Roman needed to know that the same people he considered family, the closest thing he had left to a father figure, even with them never necessarily being super close, was plotting against him the entire time. "If you had just told me—"

"Then what? It would have changed something?" Jimmy shouts, also unwilling to back down like the man across from him. "Would have stopped all this from happening? Would change what happened—"

"I don't know!" A forced, short, angry response as the Tribal Chief turns away, running his hand over his face. This conversation is equally heavy as it is challenging. He wasn't stupid enough to expect anything about it to be easy, but Roman can't deny a small part of him hoped it would go….different. In what way, he's not entirely sure. Just something….not this.

"Uce, we can figure this out—"

Roman briefly turns to him. "Can we?"

And, when Jimmy doesn't respond immediately, doesn't respond at all, Roman realizes in one area of all of this shit, they're on the same page. They're both confused as to how to untangle this massive mess of betrayal, lies, and hurt. Because for Roman, it's not even the coup organized by the people he once considered family, it's the fact that he also has to come to grips with that same "family" was a part of the plan that cost Roman his entire immediate family.

Left him essentially alone.

In many ways, that's what hurts the most.

But, it's also something Roman has opted to not tell Jimmy. As much hatred the Tribal Chief holds toward Solo and Rikishi, he can still acknowledge that was Jimmy's brother and father. He won't complicate his cousin's grief.

Because Roman doesn't hate him.

Doesn't hate him at all.

He just can't trust him anymore, and he's not sure if and when that will change.

Which is why he settled on the decision he did. The decision he's ready to finally share.

"When Solana comes home, and she will come home, I don't want to see you."

Gaze focused on the wall art in Jimmy's living room, Roman doesn't need to be looking at his cousin to know he's floored. "W-what?"

He swallows, recalling the specific wording he decided on. "You're out of my inner circle. I'll have Dwayne find a position for you in the Bloodline when things settle—"

"Roman—"

"Solana can decide for herself what she wants her relationship with Naomi to be, but I don't want either of you at my house."

"You can't—"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." Even if he's not entirely sure it's exactly what he wants. It's the best Roman can do under these circumstances.

All he can do.

That doesn't mean there's not the reappearance of that damn weight that's been on his chest ever since he had to leave Solana. Even before that, if he's being completely honest with himself.

"My decision is final, Jimmy." Because maybe sticking to the facts, or rather the stipulations Roman has decided to put in place until he can navigate a better solution might be helpful. Emotions are getting in the way of business.

Jimmy just looks at him, stares at him, unwilling or maybe even uncaring of how visible his many emotions are. "So, that's it?" Roman's jaw clenches. "After everything we been through, the good, the bad, the everything in between. Almost 40 years of friendship, of being family….." He swallows, emotion and vulnerability on full display. "You're like my brother, Roman—"

"But not a brother, right?" Silence. "That's why you didn't say anything."

It's a deeply rooted point of insecurity. One that Roman hasn't really allowed himself to think too much about since he was a kid. That feeling of being "not like them." Of feeling like he didn't necessarily "belong."

An outsider among his own blood.

"This isn't fair, and you know it," Jimmy finally responds. "You're punishing me, punishing Naomi, for something that we didn't even do."

Perhaps. The Tribal Chief won't entirely deny that. He knows he can be vindictive, and maybe some part of him does want to punish them in a way he can't the deceased. But, the vast majority of him only seeks to have a temporary solution in place to relieve him of all the other very many tasks on his plate.

And, the deep fucking truth of the matter is also something he won't allow himself to admit aloud but feels fully.

He needs Solana.

Roman needs his wife to help him sort through all of this. He needs her support. Her safety. Her sage wisdom and soft way of helping him navigate these things. So, until that can happen, this is what needs to happen.

Roman takes a deep breath. For as nice and big a home Jimmy and Naomi have, it's suddenly feels a lot more stuffy than he recalls. A lot less welcoming. His presence more…intruding than anything.

"I have to go." Both a truth and a lie. The day is practically just getting started, but time waits for the Tribal Chief. He could stay longer, could maybe talk things through with his cousin.

Problem is he doesn't want to.

Not right now.

Not for a while, most likely.

Roman is a bit unsure why he's some level of bothered by Jimmy not protesting his leave. It's what's best….

Right?

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Roman's hand is halfway to touching the doorknob when he's hit with the question. The one he knew was coming but hoping wouldn't. The one that makes sense. "You're going to kill him."

His eyes shut.

Debated. Roman debated the hell out of and with himself to try to figure out how he would tackle that one. Of course, Jimmy would want to know that. Would want to know if another person will be added to the list of lost loved ones. Especially his brother.

Jey.

Roman also considered how to respond to this, how much he wanted to share, if he wanted to grant Jimmy some sense of peace with knowing the answer or grief with also knowing the answer.

Roman swallows once more.

And, he walks out the door.

-----------

The only way for Roman to decompress from his heavy conversation with Jimmy and all that will come from the decisions that have been made is to cope the best way he knows how.

Murder.

Roman needs to cross off another name from his hit list.

Two, precisely.

"Where the fuck are they?" Dwayne complains and swats away a pesky fly that seems to prefer to fly around and in his personal bubble. "Fucking hate the outdoors."

Matteo snickers. "So, you wouldn't accompany Afia, the kids and I on a camping trip?"

Dwayne just stares at him. "Do I look poor to you?"

Roman manages a chuckle and a thought of something else. About the sacrifice Matteo is also making by being here with him. Standing with him. He's also separated from his wife. From his children. Agreeing to no contact to help keep Solana being alive a secret.

Roman swallows.

He didn't really realize until just now how massive an ask that was.

And how Matteo never once hesitated to agree to join him.

The sound of a truck engine revving is a welcomed distraction and something that allows Roman to reorient his focus to the task at hand. Jaw clenched, he watches the ambulance come to an abrupt stop followed by the drivers door being flung open.

Jacob's large body drops down, his boots leaving imprints in the slightly muddy ground as he stomps to the back of the truck and snatches the door open.

Hate fills the Tribal Chief as he watches Jacob angrily and almost erratically yank the two hospital beds out the back, both participants crying out in pain as they tumble onto the ground.

But, the cries of pain from one ease into a sick, twisted, laugh.

Roman's stomp onto his neck effectively silences that laugh. Seth's brown eyes peer up into him, that deranged smile on his face causing Roman to lift his foot and stomp once more. Seth almost instantly coughs up blood.

However, it's wheezing from the rotund man on the ground a few feet away from the lunatic under him that snatches Roman's focus.

Carefully, slowly, he walks over, anger accompanying each step until he kicks Paul over, a loud howl leaving his former advisor's mouth.

Tears stream down his face that has a large bandage on the right cheek and other unhealed cuts around various areas. "Pl—please."

Roman growls. That damn word has easily become one of his least favorites.

Similar to Seth, Roman lands his boot down on the top of Paul's fat neck. As the man screams out in pain, Dwayne chuckles.

"I know that hurt."

It all must hurt, Roman realizes. Hurt tremendously. Good.

For the first time, he takes in the sight and state of the two men before him still in hospital gowns. Their legs and arms covered with bandages, peaks of red, burned skin peaking out, the lesser of their injuries minimal compared to the latter end of severe.

Severe…

Nothing will ever be severe enough for them.

Roman barks for a knife, and the minute he's handed one, he crouches down and begins cutting. Not just the bandage. The fresh, still healing skin graft underneath the bandages as well. The screams of pain are ear piercing and music to Roman's fucking ears.

Methodically, like a butcher mastering his craft, he cuts away, ignoring the blood and body matter that splatters and splashes his clothes, tossing the mangled, ruined patches of fleshto the side like trash to the can.

Around him, no one interferes, no one stops him, and no one damn sure responds to Paul's blubbering as he transitions between screaming, apologizing, and eventually begging for Roman to just kill him.

That last is definitely on the agenda. Just not yet.

Because, one he's done butchering victim one, he transitions to victim two. Seth. Seth's torture is the eerily the same, the maniacal laughing eventually melting into sobs of agony. But, he doesn't beg for death, doesn't beseech the Tribal Chief for mercy.

No, that doesn't come until Roman is handed the electric chainsaw.

It comes then. Screams and shouts of unimaginable pain as Roman saws off arms and legs, one by one, blood shooting and spurting out. Again, the man intent on making their last minutes on earth nothing but horrific, forever uncaring. It's satisfying in a demented sort of way, but Roman doesn't care.

They're getting exactly what they deserve.

Heaving and sweating from the exertion expended through the torture, Roman only stops when all that remains is exposed bone from where he cut off their arms below the elbows and their knees slightly above the knees.

He would have continued too, if not for the fact both men are starting to lose consciousness, and that won't do.

He wants them awake for as long as humanly fucking possible.

Especially for the grand finale.

Roman snaps, speaking to Jacob. "Douse em'."

An order that doesn't need to be repeated. As Roman lifts off his shirt that's caked in blood, pieces of bone, and human flesh, tossing it to the ground, Dwayne hands him a towel to dry off and remove some of the other unmentionables.

Jacob moves quickly and efficiently, pouring the gasoline all over what remains of Paul and Seth's carved up bodies. Drenches them.

And with a wicked smirk on his face, Matteo tops it off, tops them off with the cherry on top.

An accelerant.

He forces their mouths open, the sound of them gurgling and choking sounded out with a kick to the side of the head. It's effective, allowing him to empty the bottle that he tosses to the side.

"Done," he says, voice ice cold as he goes to stand beside Dwayne and Jacob. None of them showing even the slightest hint of disturbance. If anything, there's more of a pleased, satisfied aura.

Recognizing they've reached the end of the road, that the men are mere minutes away from unconsciousness—and death—Roman stalks over to them. Slowly. A predator enjoying the final moments of his prey's existence. Moments that must consist of pain beyond human comprehension.

He looks down, the sight grotesque and enough to evoke vomiting from anyone without a seasoned stomach, but Roman is anything but. The sight makes him smile. The putrid smell of exposed bone, organs, and extensive blood pleasing to him in every sense of the word.

A dark, quiet chuckle leaves his mouth. "So much for that spoiler."

Stepping back, his eyes dart between the both of them, studying and committing the grisly image to memory.

Gratifying, indeed.

And without much thought, he pulls out the matchbox, lighting two matches, each thrown onto the men.

Turning on his heel, Roman walks away, tuning out their screams of misery and suffering.

"Let's go." It's spoken to the three men with him as they head out of the forest and to their SUV's. Extracting his revenge on the two men grants Roman with a sense of relief. He's relieved to know those two fuckers no longer breathe, or will breathe, the same air as him.

But, as gory and sadistically satisfying as Paul and Seth's deaths are, it still doesn't dull or ease the mixed emotions that fill the Tribal Chief at the thought of his next task.

Arguably, one of the hardest he has to complete.

----------

There's one reason and one reason alone why Roman asks Matteo and Dwayne to be present for this.

One very valid, important reason that can't be ignored or pushed aside. It's not his preference though.

Not really.

This is so personal that it feels almost wrong to have other parties present, but Roman also knows himself. Knows that when he fully succumbs to that uncontrollable rage that dwells within him, he can't see or think beyond it. It totally and wholly consumes him. Controls him.

Thus….his need for a contingency plan.

Roman has his back toward the door that's flung open, the intensity causing nearby photos on the wall to shake. Roman sighs. As effective as Jacob can be, he's…..a lot.

The Tribal Chief turns around just in time to see one cousin throw down the man Roman also once considered cousin.

Considered family.

Considered to be a brother.

As prideful as he can be, Roman would never deny the fact that he could have done a better job with being less hard on the twins. Less…..him. But, the truth of the matter is that despite the frosty disposition and irritation that marred a lot of their interactions, no one but the three of them know what they've been through. The countless times they've had each other's back out in the field. Protecting and looking out for each other.

The times Roman looked out for Jey.

All those moments that have boiled down to and left them right where they are now.

Jey, on the floor before him, hands on the ground, his fiery gaze on the man he also once considered family.

And seeing it, seeing Jey be upset with him?

It pisses Roman the fuck off.

He walks toward his table and grabs the brass knuckles. Both pair.

"Get out." A command directed only toward Jacob who offers no protest, walking out the same way he came in, standing watch outside the door.

"Roman…"

Roman has completely tuned out the voice of either Dwayne or Matteo. He doesn't know nor does he care.

Roman lifts his foot, kicking Jey right in the face with so much force that his body jerks back violently.

"You son of a bitch," he growls, not wasting a second to pounce on top of him, aiming for his ribs first. Jey's' howl of pain drives his determination—and fury—and distracts the Capo from his own lingering pain. The injuries that have not yet fully healed, marginally due to the fact that Roman has done nothing but exert himself from the moment he landed back home.

He'd kept his promise and continued rehab, continued to follow the doctor's orders, but that was all in between carrying out violent, bloody, brutal punishments for every fucker who turned on him.

Including the one underneath him.

And thinking of Solana, thinking of how she's not here, not with him, it only deepens the color of red he sees.

It's all he sees.

The sound of Jey's ribs cracking and his fruitless efforts to push the enraged man off him only drive Roman to lift the man up and slam him against the nearest wall. Another brutal kick to his ribs. Roman doesn't care if every single one is broken.

He grabs Jey by the chin, squeezing, enjoying the way his face remains scrunched up in pain. "You broke up my Bloodline." Not the massive crime syndicate that Roman has spent the better half of his life improving and making it into the billion dollar empire that it is now. He's referring to the family component, the familial bond and connection they shared.

That Bloodline.

"My wife isn't here because of you, Jey. You understand?" Roman continues. A part of him wonders if anything, especially that, means anything to Jey. He's unsure if Jey knows that Solana is actually alive or if he even cares, because his wife is most certainly not.

And, it's that, Roman is sure, that fuels Jey's hatred. Has him, despite the brutal beating he's receiving, refusing to cower, to show any sign of fear. Just impenetrable defiance.

"I looked out for you, I spared your fucking life, saved your ass time and time again, and what do you do?" Another fresh wave of rage, as Roman slams Jey's head back against the wall, shouting, "you break up my fucking family!"

Again, double, maybe even multiple meanings, all with one heartbreaking conclusion.

It creates a brief fracture in Roman's anger, paves the way for a small glimpse of what lies underneath all of that fury that courses through his big body. "I would have never done this shit to you, Jey."

Because, he wouldn't. Because for all the bad things Roman is, how awful he could be, he would have never stooped so low. Would have never allowed whatever prideful feelings he was struggling with to lead him down a path that could only end in heartbreak. But, Jey did. His insecurities got the best of him, and it's cost him.

It's cost him dearly.

Because as far as Roman is concerned, Nicki's death is on him.

"So just…." Jey coughs up blood as Roman realizes at some point in his inner dialogue, he'd moved back to pounding Jey into the floor. "Just…do it." Roman stops and stares at him, his own chest heaving. "You wanna kill me…..fucking do it then, Uce. It's…it's what you want, ain't it?"

Bullshit.

Roman can see right through it, right through the paltry front he's trying to put up in the face of a true life or death situation. Stubborn as all outdoors, very much like himself, Roman knows that Jey loves his kids more than anything. He would never want to "leave" them.

Especially after what's happened.

He's calling Roman's bluff, and that pisses him to fuck off.

For more reasons than the man under him and the two before him can realize.

Roman closes his eyes.

"Please." It's the pleading nature of her voice as well as the borderline desperation in her eyes that has Roman struggling. Struggling with it all. "I know….I know what he did was wrong."

"It wasn't just wrong, Solana," he calmly counters. Roman is working hard to be mindful of his tone with her. The anger that dances and burning within is 100% not aimed or geared towards her. Whatsoever. "It was unforgivable."

She swallows. "I know." He shuts his eyes once more as she continues to gently massage his scalp with one hand, the other tracing his inked arm, carefully maneuvering the ridges of disfigured skin from his burn scars. "But, I'm not….I'm not asking you to forgive him, Ro."

"No," he murmurs, jaw flexing. "But, what you're asking is a lot fucking harder."

Solana moves closer, her hand traveling to his face. "Roman….his kids lost their mother." She licks her lips and shakes her head. "We both grew up without our mothers, and I know that your relationship with yours was…..complicated, but….mine wasn't and not having her…." Her eyes watering is something he can't avoid. Can't ignore. "No child deserves that, Roman, and you know it." His silence is all that she needs to continue. "Baby, I know I'm asking a lot from you, but….please don't kill him."

He's always said and "joked" about never being able to say no to her. But, this….this might be a first. "Solana…."

"Please, Roman." Her voice cracks as she leans up, her forehead against his, breathing. "For me."

Roman is returned to the scene before him, to the decision he'd made just this morning. A decision he's not sure how he'll handle moving forward, but it's one he's accepted as his final answer.

"I'm not going to kill you," he announces. Jey can't hide his surprise, and Roman would bet his cousin and brother mimic similar expressions.

He hadn't shared his decision with anyone until this very moment.

"And, the only fucking reason I'm not is because of the woman you almost got killed," he hisses. Jey continues to look dumbfounded. "But, you are fucking dead to me in every other sense of the word. You've got a fucking week for you and your kids out of the city. Your security access is revoked, your position with the Bloodline done. You are done."

Jey continues to look around, obviously struggling to process what's being said. Like, he hadn't expected Roman to actually kill him and yet still expected Roman to kill him.

"I never want to fucking hear or speak to you ever again, you understand me?" It's a watered down warning. It's all watered down, truly. Even the fact that Jey lays before him, potentially half dead, in need of medical assistance. It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough, even if he took his cousin's life with his bare hands. And, Roman knows this.

Still, this has to be one of the hardest decisions he's ever made.

"But, if you ever fucking step foot in this town again, I don't care what Solana says, I'll fucking kill you. I swear it on Fetu's grave." A vow to carry out the act of vengeance, love, in all the irony, prevents him from completing.

It's solely Roman's love for Solana that stops him from killing Jey.

Nothing else.

Literally nothing else.

Roman's final declaration is accompanied by another stomp, this time to Jey's face, effectively knocking him out cold. Standing up and rolling his neck, Roman grimaces and grabs at his shoulder.

Way too much exertion. Not that it makes a difference.

Jey is just one of many he plans to visit today.

He looks over his shoulder, uncaring and unwilling to discuss what transpired. What's done is done.

Roman so casually, and coldly, walks over Jey's slumped, unconscious body and snatches his jacket off the hook behind the door. "Let's go."

Footsteps of the other two men follow him swinging the door open, Jacob standing at attention.

"Make sure he's gone by the time I'm back," Roman commands. What's done has been done, and while there's a tremendous amount of unspoken, unresolved issues between himself and the man he's just effectively banished indefinitely, it's not a task he's up for.

Not now.

Not ever.

Roman meant what he said.

Should Jey ever try to return to the city, Roman will absolutely kill him.

But, until then, he might as well already be dead.

Because he is to Roman.

---------

Following Roman's dramatic, bloody return from his supposed demise, he places the city on lock down.

No one enters, and no one leaves.

Armed guards, a mixture of verified Bloodline loyalists as well as soldiers from the Legado Del Fantasma, remain stationed at every entrance into the city, whether it be by land or harbor, to ensure that this order remains non-violated.

Roman intends for not a single fucker to escape his bloody vengeance.

And bloody, it most certainly is.

Nothing but unbridled rage courses through Roman's body as he spends the weeks making his way down his list eliminating target after target. Traitor after traitor. Life after life, taken.

Doors are kicked down, pieces of shit dragged out. Some granted quick death. Simple head shots that leave blood and brain matter splattered in the nearest vicinity. Some are tossed off of buildings, leaving their splattered remains for all to see. Some are used as examples. Their tortured, mangled remains tied up on display in the middle of the streets as both a reminder and a warning. A reminder of what happens to all who dare to cross Roman fucking Reigns, and a message to those who played in any role in the coup that he's coming, and he's coming for blood.

Roman has the city in a state of terror and fear. Families keeping their children in the house. Picking them up and dropping them off to school to avoid being caught in the cross hairs. A bit unnecessary, as despite Roman slipping back into that dark space that consumed him before Solana, his few morals remain the same. Women and children are off limits.

Neither of those groups are included in his hit list.

Everyone else though…..tough.

But, while the adrenaline that races through him fuels his revenge tour, that fuel of sorts easily melts away when he arrives home later in the evening. Arrives to an empty home. No sweet, delicious aroma of Solana's cooking to greet him. Or the pitter-patter of Dulce's feet as she races to the front door, eager to jump at and try to lick him but mostly just wanting to be petted and to have her belly rubbed. Being able to come up behind his wife, holding her, kissing her temple, taking in the feel of her body up against his.

Things he'd gotten used to.

Things he misses.

He misses a lot.

He misses her.

He thinks about her, about what she could be doing, about whatever pregnancy symptoms she could be experiencing, as he follows along via the app she'd installed on his phone. He checks daily, each time wondering about the swell of her stomach, imagining the excitement she must feel. Or, the sadness.

Because there is something undeniably sad about them not being able to experience this together. Something that was so important to her.

Important to him.

Being there with her to support her as she carries his children, their children, is important to him.

But….but, her safety comes first.

Their safety comes first.

Her absence is with him every fucking second of the day, though on the back-burner when the sun sits comfortably in the sky, and he has the distraction of his murderous rampage. But, when the sun is replaced with the moon, and he lays in that same bed where they've made love countless times, where she's laid on his chest, talking about her day. Where he's held and slept with her, rubbing her belly, allowing himself to feel genuinely happy for a long fucking time.

All of that is soured and dampened by the cruel reality. Solana is not there. Dulce is not there.

She's not with him. They're not with him, because of them.

And then the rages builds up all over again.

It's a vicious, cruel cycle. One that he can't escape. One that leads him to the place he wasn't expecting or planning to visit anytime soon.

Too difficult.

But, necessary.

"Not gonna lie…." Lita trails off, shifting in her seat. It's one of the few times he's noticed she's not almost casually lounged, legs tucked under her. She's sitting with both feet planted on the ground, a small frown on her face. "Believing you to be dead only for you to show up with quite the return….and now having you in front of me, I'm not quite sure where to start except to tell you that I'm so sorry about Solan—"

"She's not dead."

Silence.

Lita, for all her expertise and experience, can't hide her shocked expression. "What?"

Roman looks away. Just as he battled with whether or not to tell Jimmy the truth about Solana, he experienced the same battle regarding just how honest he wanted to be with Lita.

That's not to say he doesn't have a host of other issues he could probably, definitely, benefit from talking and working through with her.

Like the two panic attacks he's had since returning home.

Or, the several nightmares that have awoken him from the little sleep he has received. The nightmares that started when he was in the hospital in Mexico. The reason Solana refused to go home and leave him alone, staying and sleeping with him. Comforting him.

She's his comfort, and not having her has him six different shades of fucked up. On top of the pre-existing level of fucked up-ness he is on any given day.

If there was any doubt in his mind before just how codependent Roman is with his wife, this whole experience has successfully zapped it all away.

Still, that doesn't take away from the fact that Solana isn't here, and he's not okay, so he needs to find a way to get his shit together.

And, the woman before him is his best bet.

It didn't take much research and digging to realize Lita had no connection or involvement with the coup, thus eliminating her from the hit list. But, there's still this overwhelming importance of only keeping Solana's true status a secret from anyone who doesn't need to know.

And, while Roman wouldn't consider Lita someone who needs to know the truth, it would help him a hell of a lot considering the whole reason he's sitting before her.

Plus….while Roman isn't sure just what trust means to him anymore, he trusts that if she didn't know before, the bodies dumped in the streets, should be all the reminder of what happens to anyone who crosses Roman fucking Reigns.

"She's….she's in hiding. Safe." He clarifies, not willing to offer much more than that. "I'm not bringing her back home until I'm sure it's safe to do so."

"I see…." Lita trails off once more, slipping into her usual sitting position, legs tucked under her. For some reason, it makes Roman feel slightly more relaxed. "It all makes sense, then."

He eyes her. Skeptical. Cautious. "What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "Roman, I don't….I don't fully understand how all the crime shit works, but I know and have heard enough to know that you were betrayed, Solana was kidnapped, and my guess would be that they tried to kill you both." He says and offers neither agreement or disagreement. "I can understand why you're so angry and why you've been on a murder spree, making the town look like something out of a horror movie, but it's….it's deeper than that." She tilts her head, assessing in a low voice. "It's even more personal, because she's not here….you don't have her with you, and that's….difficult, I'd gather."

He looks away once more, fist forming at his side. Roman's voice is also low and quiet, as he admits aloud for the first time, "I'm not….I'm not used to it." He swallows, pushing back the pride, knowing he needs to talk about this. To unload at least one thing on his plate. "I'm not used to….to being without her."

He doesn't really know how to function properly and normally without her. Just knows how to channel all of that frustration in his killing and torturing.

"I'm sure," Lita murmurs.

"I—" He struggles, the word a tremendous weight that weighs him down to the point of needing release. "I miss her."

Lita presses her lips together, voice sympathetic. "Are you….are you able to spe—"

"No," he interrupts, voice gruff. "We're no contact to ensure her location can't be tracked."

"I see." She's quiet for a few minutes, eventually and gingerly approaching all of the other shit Roman now has added to his collection of baggage. "I've also heard that….that you were betrayed from the inside. That it was….some of your family members."

"They were never my fucking family," he growls. Roman has shifted from that place of vulnerability to that stainless steel wall of defense. "And don't fucking call them that."

"My apologies." She nods, recognizing that the extent of his regression might be more than she realized. Understandable though. Completely understandable. "Can I ask you something?"

His hesitation is noticeable. "What?"

"With Solana gone for the time being, who do you have?"

It's a delayed response. The question requires contemplation.

"My cousins, Dwayne and Ava," he finally answers, and for the first time, in a long time, Roman allows himself to be honest about the very thing he's avoided for years. Tried to pretend wasn't a thing. But, it is. And, it's been more than proven in the past few weeks. "And Matteo….my brother."

This time, Lita expertly shields her surprise at yet another shocking confession. "Your brother?" He says nothing. Expected. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a sibling still living."

Tense and partially uncomfortable, Roman nods. "It's….complicated."

"I bet," she murmurs. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?"

No. He doesn't want to talk about anything. What Roman wants to do is be with his pregnant wife. He wants to not have to deal with any of this shit. Wishes it never fucking happened in the first place, but it did, and now he's here trying to use a dollar store mop for a rainfall of issues.

But….

But, in this midst of this storm of epic proportions, there have been some glimpses of….something.

Like the fact that Roman can't and won't continue to deny something he's spent his whole life avoiding. Trying to avoid.

That he has a brother.

That despite all off the bitter feelings of resentment and jealousy toward the man that got the same short end of the stick that he did, Matteo has more than proven himself to be someone Roman can….can trust.

Such a difficult, virtually impossible thing considering what happened, the depth of the betrayal, but the truth of the matter is that Matteo and so many others showed up when Roman needed help the most.

Needed his brother.

It's why he's decided to stop denying the truth and maybe, just maybe, himself.

Roman shifts in his seat. "I've…I've realized that….I should…probably try to form some kind of relationship with him." Because, it's time. "It's what Solana thinks I should do, and….one of my aunt's dying wish that I….make things right with him."

"Sure." A pause. "But, what about you, Roman? What do you want?"

A lot of things. The biggest thing? His wife back home with him, so he could have her by his side as he works through all this shit. But, that's not an option. It's not an option, and he has to learn how to be without her for the time being.

Has to learn how to navigate the waters closest to him.

No matter how much he hates it.

"I—I—" He also hates this fucking stuttering and stammering. It's so unlike him. "I don't know how….how to go about that."

An almost embarrassing admission but a truth, nonetheless. Solana is good with these sorts of things. Not him.

Lita keeps a contained smile. Regression has certainly occurred but not, perhaps, as much as she initially believed. There's something there she intends to grab and hone in on as much as she can while still acknowledging his already complex treatment plan just got significantly more complicated.

"Well….." She starts, standing up and walking over to grab the infamous box of Giant Uno off her bookshelf. "Murder and mayhem, I don't know, but that…." Trailing off, she takes a seat, offering another small, patient smile. One step at a time. "—That I can certainly help you with."

----------

"Ya know," Ava starts, lifting her beer from her mouth after taking and swallowing a decent ass amount. "I'm a little offended none of you fuckers have invited me along for the kill tour."

Dwayne chuckles, the beer in his hand looking significantly smaller than it actually is due to his big ass overall size. "Didn't realize that was your thing, cuz."

"Psshhh." She makes a sound, leaning back in the chair, lifting her middle finger to the sky. "They came after our family. Of course, I want my pound of flesh."

Matteo's smile is small as he traces the mouth of his bottle. "Well, there still remains a few outliers we haven't caught."

Being reminded of that makes Roman scowl as he tightly squeezes the bottle in his hand.

Despite his shutting down the city, a few bitches were perhaps smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when they realized Solo was also dead. When they realized that while Roman had been "eliminated," not having the protection of the men who led the charge meant their fates were left up in the air.

So, they ran.

Not that it's made a difference. Roman has accompanied Dwayne on various trips to other states where the Bloodline has locations, where tips from traitors who were dumb enough to stick around and ended up singing like canaries from a little bit of torture. Or, if Roman doesn't accompany Dwayne for said trips, Matteo does.

They're smart enough to know it's not wise for all three to leave the city at once. Not when they're working to restore order and balance.

A process that's…..going, which is good, but it's still going, which is the problem.

It's been two weeks, and they're still not there. At that point where Roman can bring his wife home, and that….that's been rough, to say the least.

It helps to have the people around him, but even them combined together don't equate even half of the comfort and relief his wife provides him.

"Good," Ava replies, smiling craftily. "Save some for me, then." She then gasps, looking around the room. "Has big ears told you what we came up with for you know what?"

At that, Roman rolls his eyes, but he can't ignore the skip and leap of hope that dances within at the shift in topic and conversation.

"Hopefully, you did most of the thinking, cause Lord knows this man ain't got a romantic bone in his body," Dwayne scoffs, gesturing to Roman who only scowls in response.

"I'd argue there's maybe one there." Matteo shrugs. "Or, half of one."

Ava snorts. "More like a quarter." Roman flips her off, something she entirely ignores. "Anyway, so here's what we came up with…."

As Ava moves into specifics, excitement painting her face and accompanying her hand gestures as she almost illustrates what they, what Roman primarily, intends to do for his wife upon her return. A plan months in the making, marked and interrupted by several setbacks but something he's ultimately decided to follow through with.

Roman tunes them out to a certain extent, focused less on the conversation at hand and more the people.

In under a year, his life has taken such a turn. Many unexpected turns. He's gained and lost, lost and gained, gained some more, lost some more, and started all over. Overwhelming in a lot of regards, especially considering the latest chapter has easily been the most traumatic.

But, there's also something else he can't deny. Something he's been working on in therapy with Lita, that he'd love to be able to talk with Solana about, but something he can't really deny, nonetheless. Even if he wanted to.

He's gained such a loyal, strong inner circle. People who, if he continues upon the path of honesty, have always been there for him. It's just been him, Roman, who's kept that wall up.

The wall that, according to Lita, kept the "bad" people out but also kept the "good" people from getting in.

She wasn't wrong.

Roman has spent so many years pushing people away, only letting a select few close to him, and while a few of those select few have caused him an insurmountable of pain, hurt and trauma, there still remains the fact that he still has people he can trust.

He still has family.

Even more, Solana's several statements regarding as such return to the forefront of his mind.

"The girls deserve to have a big family who love and support them, Ro."

Solana was also right.

His family might look slightly different now, but they're still family.

"I—" He cuts in, interrupting the conversation among the three regarding that. Equally important but not as germane as what he wants to say. Needs to say, really. "I want to thank all of you."

"Hell hath fucking frozen over." Ava scoffs. "Did you just…..thank someone?" She smirks, crossing her arms, head tilted. "I didn't think you were capable of that shit. Not unless it's Solana."

Roman scowls, but he doesn't disagree. "Are you done?" She rolls her eyes and lifts her hands in a defensive manner, signifying her silence. Roman shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the three sets of eyes on him. "I know I….I'm not the fucking best with this shit, but I….I do appreciate the three of you. What you've done…..for me." He primarily looks between Dwayne and Matteo. "Especially you two….you saved my life." He swallowed. "I don't….I don't take that lightly."

"You better fucking not," Dwayne shakes his head, sipping some of his beer. "I don't risk my life for just anyone."

"And, you're not just anyone, Roman," Matteo adds, his tone more on the serious side. Sincere. "You're family."

"We're family," Ava corrects, looking among the men. "A dysfunctional ass family of killers and shit ton of trauma but family nonetheless."

Roman chuckles. "Yeah…." He clears his throat, carefully trying to balance vulnerability with some element of business. "Matteo…." His brother looks his way, eyebrow raised. "You said you trust Vinci, right?"

Vinci. The man who assisted Matteo in making his way back to Italy without the Administration finding out, allowing him the element of surprise needed to carry out his hits. A man who, according to Matteo, has worked hard for and with him for over a decade.

He offers no hesitation, just a nod of confirmation. "With my life." Skepticism is raised. "Why?"

A bit of a delayed response, because that damn trust thing. Roman isn't sure how he's supposed to trust anyone outside of the group of people who helped him ever again, and while this Vinci fucker isn't anyone he knows, Matteo does. Matteo is vouching for him, so that has to be enough.

For now.

"We'll need someone we know we can trust to handle business over there." At that, he and Dwayne share questioning expressions. "Because I need you two stateside with me."

Matteo is the first to respond, that skepticism still looming. "Yeah?"

Roman rolls his neck, explaining. "I….I need people around me I know I can trust." A survey of the gatherers. "And outside of Solana, I don't know anyone I trust more than the people in this room."

Ava sits forward, seeing her cousin's gaze on her. "Wait…." She lowers her beer, small smile growing on her face. "You're inviting me into your inner circle?"

Roman nods. "You may be a pain in the fucking ass majority of the time, but you're smart. Loyal. I know I can trust you, and I know you'd be a valuable asset."

"Hell yeah, I would." She agrees. "Some estrogen to tamper down all that testosterone would probably do you all some good."

Roman doesn't entirely disagree. He just continues to share the tentative plans he's been mentally mulling over since returning home. "I'm also….I'm considering including Escobar."

"Escobar?" Dwayne's look of skepticism sure. "Brotha, you sure you didn't hit that big ass head of yours at some point?" A sarcastic question, of course, but there's also a hint of truth. "You hate Escobar."

"Dumbo hates everyone. What else is new?"

Roman ignores Ava. Her being on his council will be….an adjustment, for sure. "I did, or I do, but….I can't deny what he did, and Lopez wants him to be the liaison between us and the Cartel, so it only makes sense to include him. In some things. Not all."

"Isn't he technically your in-law as well?"

"Don't remind me," Roman mutters, trying to wipe his brother's valid but irritating reminder from his mind.

"I hate to break it to you, Roman, but it seems Solana's maternal side of the family is….large." Matteo's comment doesn't help, but it's not meant to. Meant to remind The Tribal Chief that his future is most likely filled with forced interactions with….people. "It might benefit you to get used to….large family functions."

"Make sure that Stephanie girl is there."

Matteo frowns. "Did she not tell you, not so eloquently, might I add, to fuck off?"

"Sure did." Dwayne answers. Proudly, almost. "I'll wear her down."

"Oh my God." Ava rolls her eyes, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "I need another beer."

"I'll join you," Dwayne announces.

"Please don't," she objects. Not that it makes a difference as he says something about warming up a slice of pizza.

Their departure leaves Roman and Matteo alone. A blanket of silence befalls them. One that has Roman moving around in his seat, eager to down the rest of his beer. In the madness and chaos that's thrived and consumed his life in the wake of fixing everything, this evening of just….calm, of normalcy, is appreciated.

Needed, even.

"So…." Matteo starts, placing his beer down on the coffee table. "Your inner circle…"

The younger man nods, stroking his beard. "Well, there are openings now."

While Roman is dead serious, Matteo laughs quietly, shaking his head. "I bet there are."

For the Elder council as well, but that's also being taken care of. Another task Roman is overseeing with the help of his cousin and the man before him.

"Thank you, Roman." Matteo's voice has shifted to a serious, solemn tone. "I don't take the honor lightly. Especially after what's happened…."

Roman says nothing initially. Just nods as something unfamiliar and indescribable fills him. Emotion, maybe? Some form of it, perhaps. He just knows it's partially settled by the conversation he had with Lita about this.

One step at a time.

"You've earned it." Is the response he settles on. The latter portion of his response a bit difficult for him to share but a truth, nonetheless. "Besides, it might be kind of hard for us to work on this….brother shit, if you're on the other side of the world."

While it's not the first time Roman has referred to Matteo as his brother, it's certainly the first time he's verbalized it in an accepting manner.

Especially in front of Matteo whose small smile can only be described as one of relief.

And joy.

Happiness.

"I suppose you're right, fratello," he hums. "I suppose you're right…"

Fratello

Brother.

And for the first time, Matteo's use of the word doesn't anger Roman. Doesn't pick at a long-term, never healing, always open, fresh would.

It feels relieving.

Healing.

---------

Despite an evening of relaxation and camaraderie, the next day brings about more work. More shit to work through.

"So…." Matteo starts as the two walk into Bloodline Headquarters, Dwayne planning to meet them later in the day, tasked with carrying out a side quest for Roman. "Who are we killing today, fratellino?"

Little brother.

Again, no irritation. No vexation. Just….the calm.

"Depends on who pisses me the fuck off," Roman mutters, and the two brothers share a small laugh and chuckle that's almost instantly washed away from both the minute they walk into Roman's office to see someone already waiting, sitting in Roman's seat.

Roman's fist forms at his side. Alicia's days are fucking numbered.

"You got a minute to tell me who the fuck you are, and maybe I won't blow your brains out just yet."

The man smiles. Older. Very old. His face reveals that he's seen decades of this world past him by, his eyes filled with countless stories of mischief and mayhem. A smirk on his face accompanies him standing, revealing a height rivaling Roman and Matteo's. He comes to stand in front of Roman's desk, leaning back with his arms crossed over his slim build.

"Well, I'll be damned." His voice is thickly accented. Familiar. Italian. "Can't say I ever saw this shit coming."

Roman is ready to kill the old man and be done with it, but Matteo grabbing his arms stops him from adding to his never-ending kill count. Roman looks over to see Matteo's head turned slightly, studying, observing, but something else. Something unfamiliar. Alarmed. He looks alarmed.

Roman frowns. "What?"

But, Matteo says nothing. Not to his brother, at least.

"Nonno?"

And, at that, Roman's gaze shifts back and forth, quickly, between the two men.

His chest tightens, asking again, but for a completely different reason. "What?"

Gaze on the old man, Roman sees how he simply raises his chin, offering a nonverbal response. And confirmation.

Only then does Roman see it. The slight but now visible similarities between not only Matteo and this man, but himself and the man.

In all of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Matteo speaks in Italian, his voice even, the former shock and confusion easing into a coldness that Roman often feels and see in himself.

"Well." The older man makes a sound, rolling his shoulders, face turned up in a brief grimace. "Given all that's happened the past few weeks, we realized it was time—"

"We?" Roman cuts in. It's the first thing he's said to the man he now recognizes the same way Matteo does.

His nonno.

Their grandfather.

This is their maternal grandfather.

"Hi, boys..."

Another voice speaks, but this time, this time there is no word to describe just what courses through either of the brothers as they turn around in almost perfect synchronization. Initially guarded and partially alarmed, that's punted away the minute their sight confirms what the auditory already knew.

Roman doesn't get disturbed often. If ever. It's not in his character. Matteo's neither.

But, it's a miracle that neither man stumbles back at the sight before them.

She stands in the doorway, an expensive, beautiful, intricately designed scarf over her head, tied under her chin. A wrap that slender fingers with disfigured looking skin slowly moves to undo, allowing it to crumple in her hands. She swallows, the lines on her face prominent as she frowns, her familiar light brown eyes bouncing between the two stunned men.

The weight on Roman's chest has grown to an unbearable amount, so much so that it prevents him from speaking. From thinking. From breathing, it feels like.

No, Matteo is the one that finds the wherewithal to speak the word Roman can't find in him to verbalize.

"Mom?"

------

welp. do ya'll agree with roman's decisions regarding jey and jimmy?

also, yes.....matteo and roman's mother is still alive.

reminder: next chapter is the last one.

[sopuu]

sketch dump of some guys

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]

Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.

I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.

Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.

[davey-in-a-minivan]

EPISODE 10 PROPAGANDA!!! listen the pasithea powder scholarly convention debated this one for hours last night but i personally have to pick 10 bc of the way it revels in the sheer breadth of drama of the show's premise and also it makes me feel like the top of my head's going to lift off

>really love that we see the other as anna alegros first so we can see how EFFECTIVELY it zeroes in on the chinks in david alegros' armor and sends him running, and jane is much calmer but immediately there's the question of how will she fare once subject theta's attention is on her?

>also jane insisting on treating it like a patient and not a test subject without knowing if that's right but erring on the side of a little dignity!! and in defiance of blanc who doesn't treat HER with dignity!! jane's also a prisoner of the queensguard!!

>i think my heart STOPPED the first time i heard this it's so fluid it's so fucking fuck fuck fuck i need to relisten again right now

>othersophie's appearance is brief but so so mighty. this is the first instinctive thing the other thinks will give jane pause!!! this is who she's afraid of hurting!!! and othersophie pulled from jane's mind is so much more disgusted and betrayed by jane than real sophie ever is..... delicious fucking angst

>THE WAY JANE SAYS THAT LAST OH!!! less a word and more an exhale punched out of her!!!! yeah!!!!!!!!! god!!!!! me too!!!!!!!

>bc look ive never predicted a plot twist in my life but i didn't predict the other turning into evelyn!!! it turned into sophie and i was like of course, sophie's turned into jane, the soulmateism and then oh

>the way the reveal is done in an AUDIO MEDIUM is fantastically cool, the transformation- shock- recognition in the next few lines land as hard as any visual reveal could have like it is just enthralling sorry it's almost embarrassing gushing this much in a public forum but this scene is just SOMETHING ELSE

>also blanc follows this up with "you knew it was going to do this" which makes me think of sophie's "mm. that makes sense" when jane later says who the other turned into where, like, yeah, this makes a lot of sense but that doesn't soften the blow. i don't know if anything could!

>fascinating to see how theta's strategy changes over the course of the conversation. at first it says things like "you're seriously going to do this to everyone you love??" which are clearly meant to wound by being delivered in evelyn's voice but isn't something he would say--he never knew she dosed sophie with pasithea!! for obvious cause effect reasons!! but at the twelve hour mark (once the memory of the other as anna and sophie is more distant and they've both calmed down some) it starts talking like it really might convince her it's evelyn. and jane starts to slip. references arguments "we've had before." says "that's something you--he--would do"

>LET'S FUCKING GO.

>YOU HEAR THIS AND FEAR FOR JANE FOR BEING FOOLED. WRONG FEAR!!!

>and then she says. be evelyn. 🧨🧨🧨

>theta starting to get scared, jane becoming almost flippant! theta referring to evelyn in the third person and jane saying "you"!! the mundane fucking tragedy of no last goodbye!!!!!

>SORRY JANE BUT THIS IS SO SEXY

>this followed up by "I do know you. I know you died trying to help other people. You wanted to--protect Medean kids, and--Cassandran soldiers, and--your death didn’t mean anything. You didn’t end the war, Evelyn. I ended the war." IS CRAZY

>jane deserves a god complex!!!!

>it's so so gripping to see jane -- who tries to be moral! who cares deeply about other people and doesn't want to do harm! -- justify something horrifying to herself because she has been pushed to such an extreme of grief and she has the power in her hands!!!

>absolutely haunting

>that stage direction KILLS ME!!!!!!! she thinks it worked!!! she thinks she managed the impossible and undid the worst thing that ever happened to her!!!! with raw hope!!!!!

>does it make it better or worse that he lives for a minute?? that for a minute it's just evelyn?? that he has a chance to hug her before blanc shoots him dead??

>it's just so brutal. i feel like i need to go stare at the wall for a few hours

>she did get swept up in a fantasy but can you blame her? grabs blanc by the shoulders and shakes him like a rag doll. can you blame her??? YOU ALL MADE HER DO THIS. SHE'S TWENTY FOUR AND ALONE

>the compactness of this episode is so satisfying. one recording, beginning to end. it feels like a play!!!

in conclusion. what in the holy fuck of an episode. theta is not the only one getting his brain chemistry irreversibly changed by this conversation!!!!!!!!!

Onwards and upwards with Pasithea Pandemonium! I expect this matchup, like the Sophie matchup, will be pure carnage. It's Episode 10, "Evelyn," vs. Episode 23, "Fix It."

[shima-draws]

Finished season 2…

[chrollogy]

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

I’m gonna throw up bc wtffffff

big on soda’s letters and especially on the ending of it being just Darrel and how it’s just one line at the end but something breaks in Pony when he sees it because it’s the first time anyone who has hurt him has said they miss him and they need him and they’re not ok without him.

also dare I say runs in the family? Mostly because of the line where Darrel says “I guess I’m problem prone, it runs in the family”. And yeah, it’s kinda a dig at how he’s not good at this and soda and to drop out and pony has all this pressure on him now. But also, he’s suggesting it’s a family thing and he’s not hesitating to include pony in that. Because from the minute pony first stepped foot in their house, their family has been more. In Darrel’s mind, his family isn’t his parents, him n soda. It’s his parents, him, soda, n pony. and then there’s the bit about “I don’t know what them boys would ever do without me and what would I do on my own”. because Darrel truly has no idea what would happen to his brothers if he didn’t fight to keep them, especially pony. Lord knows that kid has been through enough and Darrel would be damned if he let him get take away and dumped onto some family that don’t give a shit about him. but also, he’s being a little selfish. he has to keep his brothers for his own sake too. he needs to keep his brothers because they’re the only family he’s got left. Whether or not it was the same damn genes that made them up or not, he would do everything in his power to keep them, for their sake and his own.

Also let’s unpack this

because um what the fuck. maybe he whispers this fear out one night when he thinks soda is asleep and soda hears him say it and his heart breaks. and before pony can even blink, soda is sitting up in their bed and wrapping his arms so tightly around his little brother and just whispering out that that’s not true and he shouldn’t believe it. He doesn’t deserve to suffer. He got dealt one of the worst hands in life and it had somehow only gotten worse. But that ain’t his fault. It ain’t his fault and no one should ever make him believe it is. Soda prolly says something about how even thought their parents were gone and they were never going to be whole after that, they wouldn’t give up pony for anything. They wouldn’t trade him for their parents back because pony was as much a part of this family as soda and Darrel were. And soda needed pony to understand that. He needed him to know that they wanted him and they loved him. And he needed pony to know none of it was his fault. Death wasn’t following him and leaving everything in ruin. He was just a kid. A kid who got dealt a hand that he didn’t deserve. He had lost and lost and lost. He had gone through more suffering in fourteen years than most people went through in their entire laugh. And that was terrible. But it wasn’t his fault.

thinking abt adopted ponyboy again

[myfairkatiecat]

Okay I’m going to say it, some of y’all treat the KOTLC tag like it’s a tumblr community instead of an organization system that gathers together everything people post and tag as KOTLC