#and they still support him even when he keeps being really masculine

[thanks-obillma]

updated vito hc

he's very open about being an ally. except he gets pissy when people refer to him as non-queer, like come on, he shares his brain and body with a bunch of queer people, he's at least adjacent? or grandfathered in? or something?

and he knows he shouldn't be upset because he knows he's straight, he's not actually queer himself and he doesn't want to appropriate anything or whatever, but he still can't quite shake it. is he ace? no, no, he has some mixed feelings about sex but the attraction is still there. maybe he actually does like guys? nope, that's not it either. maybe it's just the others getting their emotions mixed in with his and they're actually the ones not liking the idea being excluded. yeah, that must be it. brain's done weirder things.

he's well into his 40s when he finally realizes he's transfem.

[demilypyro]

My father chases ghosts.

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I once questioned my father on why he treated me with such cold detachment. Why his advice only ever seemed to come in the form of lecturing, and why he never hugged me, or even said he was proud of me. His words in that moment caused the small amount of respect I had for him to shake. He told me that he saw it as the mother's role to love a child, and that it was the father's role to keep the child on the straight and narrow. After some contemplation, I decided in that moment that I disliked him, not just as a parent, but as a person.

My father doesn't have a father. He was the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy between an interracial couple in the 60s... My grandmother was never willing to speak about what happened to my grandfather. I can only imagine he didn't stick around long, since my father never knew him, and grew up with only his mother. And it's always been clear to me that this bothered him. The man idolizes masculinity. Maybe desperate for a father figure, he found role models in his grandfather, whose portrait still hangs in his house and which he treats with great care, and his stepfather, whose surname he took (discarding his mother's last name) and passed on to me. Supposedly, his stepfather left his mother in a matter of years, so why my father idolizes him so, I don't understand. I've never met the man.

Perhaps similarly, my father left his mother's care the second he turned 18. Having lived with my grandmother for some years when I was in college, I can honestly understand why. She is prone to smothering the people she loves. In light of that experience, it maybe becomes easier to understand why my father would prefer a more distant form of parenting. Still, I don't agree with his philosophy on gender roles.

Some years after I transitioned, I had a conversation with my father that stuck with me. He said that he actually saw himself as rather unmasculine, a possibility that had never once occurred to me. With that in mind, I suppose he is somewhat short, and not especially muscular. He told me he had always felt insecure about it. But, unlike me, he had never once considered abandoning the pursuit of masculinity entirely. Rather, in his own words, he felt he needed to chase it even harder. To live up to the image he'd set for himself. The ghost of masculinity.

A lot became clear to me in that moment. My father is obsessed with chasing ghosts of how he thinks things Should Be. My mother once told me how he had this "plan" for where he wanted to be in life at each age. He wanted to live on his own by 20. He wanted to be married by 30. He wanted children by 40. When he found out my mother was pregnant, he married her as fast as he could. My mother didn't really care, but he said they HAD to be married before the baby was born. Things had to go in the right order. According to him, that was just how things Should Be.

He was chasing the ghost of the perfect nuclear family that was denied him.

They divorced when I was eight.

In light of all this, it becomes very clear why he acted the way he did when I was younger. I wasn't how his child Should Be. No matter how many things I was diagnosed with, he never bothered looking into what neurodivergency was, or how to deal with it, and simply held me to the standards of a neurotypical child. My mother tells me that when I was six, he yelled at me in a store for wanting to try on a dress. His child being autistic was something to be ignored until it went away. His child being transgender? Forget it.

In recent years, I think my father has started giving up on me. In a good way. Seeing me become happier as my transition progresses seems to have finally convinced him that he doesn't understand what's best for me, at least somewhat. I speak to him maybe once a month. But I often mourn the idea of a father I could've been closer to. A father with whom I could have had a relationship of love, and support. A father I never had.

Maybe I'm chasing a ghost too.

[velvetvexations]

I'd like to add something to the topic of forced impregnation / corrective rape of transmascs & men.

One thing I feel like other people tend to believe is that trans people with uteruses / the capability to get pregnant are "extremising" a problem that really only affects a few select trans people, surely not a lot.

What they don't get is that we're not extremising anything. Even just on the topic of forced pregnancy, I know barely a single trans man who hasn't been told that getting pregnant would fix him or that his whole worth as a person with a uterus is measured in how many children he can pop out at best, or being straigh up threatened with it or at worst having someone actually attempt to or fully act on that threat. And the ones who it didn't happen to? They know full well that it's always a "it didn't happen yet". That threat is still there, even without anyone saying it. People don't have to outright say it or threaten us because we just know.

It's not something we made up as a "gotcha" to trans women. In fact, it has nothing to do with most trans women at all, safe for the ones who can get pregnant! It's our lived experience. Our every-day life.

I was thirteen, just started my period, when my mother started to try to convince me that my whole worth as a person was making babies, that I needed to make kids the second I'd turn eighteen, that I would otherwise waste my life. And no, she didn't actually think that of all women. My cis sister? Never got to hear any of that. Just me. Because my mother looked at me being masculine and saw something she needed to fix (by only buying me extremely sexualised feminine outfits and telling me the stuff mentioned above, and that it was "only that" makes me one of the lucky ones). It happened to me not just because I was born with a uterus, because then it would've happened to my sister, too. It happened because my mother could tell something was "wrong" with me because I was too masculine. Got a little too exited when people mistook me for my brother. She didn't know what transmasculinity was back then in name, but she absolutely did know that it was "wrong" and needed to be "fixed" - and the way to fix a "broken woman" is to get her pregnant. She, of course, couldn't do that back then, but she could do her best to try to make me do that once I was "old enough" (I'm very glad today that she failed.)

And basically every trans men I've talked with about that topic had their own story like that or much, much worse. Only very rarely has a transmasc/man not experienced something like that, and even then, the threat is so omnipresent that even they tend to know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a horrifying truth, it's uncomfortable, but it needs to be talked about. Our pain has been ignored and swept under the rug for so long, and people are still continuing to do so. So they can keep telling themselves that we "don't have it that bad" that we're "making a deal out of nothing" that what happens to us is just "individual cases" not something targeted. Because if people don't listen, they don't have to admit to themselves how they're playing into our oppression. Because to this day my mother is still claiming that she supports the trans community, after she did everything in her power to stop her son from existing. She won't listen to what I have to say because it "wasn't that bad", and my sister turned out great, so what do I have to cry about?

Nobody listens to trans men in general because it's never "as bad" as we make it out to be. After all, a cis woman said it wasn't that bad and she'll always be more believable than what ever a trans man or transmasculine person has to say. A trans man could obviously never experience anything a cis woman in his situation wouldn't.

This got longer than I anticipated. Thank you for listening and talking about this topic. I appreciate you, your work here is incredibly important and I'm glad you do this. Take care, and have a nice day!

(Also, this whole assumption about us "extremising" and "making a big thing out of nothing" also sounds a bit like hysteria talk to me, especially given that our conversation is about uterus-related things, but I might be reading to much into it here.)

the issue is that TRFs will take all this as "so you're saying that means trans men have it worse than trans women?"

like noooooooo you invented that sentence! that was nowhere in the original text girliepop!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty eight | part two

authors note: see at end of chapter.

warnings: fluff and angst

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

chapter song inspo: 'that's the way it is' by celine dion

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 16k

Daytime is easier, nighttime is trickier, but bedtime is when it all comes to a head.

When Solana removes the decorative pillows and pulls back the covers. When she lifts Dulce and places her fur baby on the same bed that she climbs into shortly after. When Solana adjusts the blankets and shifts onto her side, her hand planted on her growing baby bump. And, she closes her eyes, prepared to sleep. That's when it hits her.

The light is still on.

The light is still on.

The light that Roman always shuts off for them before he climbs into bed with her, gently tugging her close and into him. His strong arm securely wrapped around her as he kisses her temple and tells her he loves her.

But, none of that happens.

It doesn't happen, because he's not here.

The light is still on.

That's when the tears come. When Solana does her best to soothe herself, sometimes grabbing her phone and looking at pictures of them. Even reaching for one of his shirts, swapping out her gown for something that holds her husband's masculine scent.

It doesn't work.

Not usually.

If anything, it makes things worse.

Reminds her that once again, he's not here.

The light is still on.

-------

She spends her days as best she can. Rarely, if ever, alone. Paloma makes sure of that. If it’s not her abuela forcing her to leave the bed and come sit in the living room as they quietly watch TV, it’s Afia and the children coming over to keep her company. It’s Bayley coming in the room with her as the two sit and talk, discussions about what will be like when this all passes, and they can return home. Aurora is brought over by her mom, usually, Solana able to spend a few hours with the little girl, mentoring and just interacting with her.

Solana appreciates it. She does. It helps her to not be too into her head, but at the end of the day, it all still falls short. There’s not an hour that passes that she doesn’t think of her husband. 

That she doesn’t wonder about what Roman’s doing. How he’s doing. What his recovery is looking like. If he’s taking care of himself like he said he would. 

If he’s being safe. 

There are tears. Most definitely, there are tears. And, those are largely brought on and up when she looks down at her baby bump. As she watches it grow, the roundness of her stomach seemingly expanding week by week. As she follows along with the app. And especially when she attends her checkup appointment. Her abuela is there with her, but Roman isn’t. 

And, the lack of him is devastating. In all aspects.

She misses him. She just really fucking misses him, and as amazing as her family and support system have been, it still doesn’t take away from the fact that she feels lonely. There’s a void his absence causes that can’t and won’t be filled by anything other than their reunion. 

Solana does her best not to think of how much time passes. It only makes things worse. 

She tries to think of life after this chapter. Of a life when and where she can focus primarily on the upcoming birth of her daughters. Of what changes motherhood and parenthood will bring about for the both of them. Of the happiness that will bring. 

But, there are also those heavy, inescapable moments where she can’t help but think and dwell on what got them here. The betrayal. The lies. The loss. 

So many things have changed, and not for the better. She thinks of Jey, a perfect mixture of anger and sympathy for the man she once considered a brother. Same as her husband did. 

She’s hurt and angered by his betrayal, but she also feels for him having lost his wife, the mother of his children. His children who now have to grow up as she did, without the love and presence of their mother. 

Solana didn’t know Nicki well, and while the few interactions they had were….interesting, to say the least, she was still a person. A mother and a wife. Solana doesn’t know how much “love” was present between Jey and Nicki, but she firmly believes Nicki loved her children. And, her children loved her back.

And, it was for them, for the children, that Solana pleaded with her husband. 

She doesn’t hate Jey, but his role in the coup is not something she can easily move past. She won’t, because while she does believe he did not know the full extent, he knew something. He was still in agreement with turning against her husband, and that is enough for her. 

But, his children, for all their misbehavior, are innocent. To grow up motherless is one thing, but to grow up motherless and fatherless seems inconceivable. And, truly, Solana considered Roman when making her decision to ask him to spare Jey's life.

She considered what being orphaned, essentially, was like for Roman. It impacted him in so many ways, few of a positive nature, so much so that it made her feel like she had no choice but to ask her husband not to kill him.

Truth be told, she’s not sure if Roman will honor her request. She can only hope and pray that he does.

Then, there’s Jimmy and Naomi.

Solana holds no contempt towards them. Not really. Roman told her about his conversation with his other cousin. How Jimmy disclosed there was always some sort of discontentment from Rikishi towards Roman, and she understands why this bothers him. Why it upset him.

However, she’s not prepared to lump him in the same category as his traitorous brother. Naomi, either.

To Solana, the only thing they’re guilty of is naivety. And, more Jimmy than Naomi, because Solana still, even after everything, believes that Naomi was valid with her feelings expressed during the girls trip. Her delivery of said issues was just what Solana had problems with. Along with the fact that she hadn’t said something sooner.

And now that conversation, the necessary one that needed to happen before everything went down, that still needs to happen, remains in limbo. Because, right now, from Solana’s understanding, Roman wants nothing to do with Jimmy. She doesn’t necessarily feel the same, but it’s also not her place to tell him how to handle this. 

Right or wrong, it’s how he feels, and she respects that. She will respect it.

Granted, it leaves her feeling a bit stuck regarding how she’s supposed to navigate her relationship with Naomi moving forward. Is there still one? Can there still be one where she respects the wishes of her husband while not destroying the sisterhood she built up with the woman she really did—does—consider a sister?

Solana honestly doesn’t know.

There’s truly so much up in the air, so many things to sort through and figure out. But, at the end of the day, the number one priority is remaining healthy for her babies. She can only think of and focus on so many things at a time, and her immediate family comes first. 

Her immediate family being her babies, Dulce included, and her husband. 

Everything has to work itself out at some point.

She believes that. She has to. 

She has nothing else to believe in.

—-------

6 weeks. 

6 weeks in total that passed without any contact, any sort of interaction between Roman and his wife.

Six weeks that felt infinitely longer. As busy as he was during the time, settling all the wrongs, it never escaped him. The fact that he was alone.

He had his brother, had his two cousins, but he didn't have his wife of their dog, and the presence of close relatives didn't make up for that deficit. Not as much as he thought, or maybe hoping, it would.

Nevertheless, Roman did his best to keep himself busy. He worked and then worked some more. Killed. Killed a lot more. Thought….he thought a lot more than he worked and killed, probably.

Sessions with Lita helped, but they didn’t help enough.

Then….that.

Roman couldn’t allow himself to think of that.

His mother and grandfather a thing, even with all his pride, Roman knew he needed Solana to help him with. To sort through.

That it’s not something he could or perhaps even can handle on his own.

Hence why that shit’s been put on the backburner. 

Especially now.

Now that it's time.

Time to bring Solana home.

Roman’s return is something that was kept on a need to know basis. It’s not that he wanted to surprise Solana. They were way past that shit. He just didn’t want anyone to inform her, and some shit happened, hindering his return. Delaying it. No, he wanted to be 100% certain nothing could get in the way of him finally being reunited with his wife. 

Especially as his return falls on the day before Christmas Eve. Ideal timing. Not preferred, but ideal. He knew how upset she was about them missing their first Thanksgiving together, and while he’s never been big on holidays, he respects that that’s something important to her.

So, being able to bring her home just in time for Christmas is at least something. 

He arrives in the evening, as per Paloma’s suggestion. Makes his way through the back of the house. Also Paloma’s suggestion. 

She’d let him in, Roman a bit unsure of just how to interact with her. He thanked her, for certain, though something told him that it was unnecessary. That she was eager to spend as much time with her granddaughter just as much as Solana wanted to spend time with her.

Still, the circumstances were not ideal. For certain.

Left alone, Roman looks around the home, as if trying to see if anything has changed but also taking it all in. There's something welcoming and homely about the aroma of the food marinating in the kitchen, the sound of the TV at a low volume that serves as background noise of sorts. The windows that are partially open, allowing a nice breeze and the sounds of nature to filter throughout the abode.

Home.

It feels like home.

The sound of a single bark redirects Roman's focus as the smallest smile falls on his face.

He's moving to his knees at the same time Dulce makes a beeline for him, jumping in his arms, whimpering and trying to lick him.

Roman chuckles, petting her while standing up and still holding her. "I've missed you, too, girl." Because he has. As much as Solana is his wife, is his family, so is Dulce. The first addition to their growing family, if he's being honest with himself.

Paloma walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, smiling as she watches Dulce continue to wiggle around, overcome with excitement at her dad being home. "Well, I certainly see why that one is so spoiled."

Roman glances over at the older woman, offering no protest. He can also admit that Dulce pretty much gets whatever she wants, within reason.

He does wonder how that might change, if it will change, once the girls are born.

It's a thought that dims his prior smile, slows down his interactions with the still excited puppy. "How….how was she?"

Paloma lifts her chin. Something tells Roman she knows he's not referring to Dulce.

"She's missed you. A lot." He swallows. "But, all things considered, she's done well. We kept her busy, wouldn't let her sulk when she wanted to, gave her space when she needed it."

Space.

That's probably the one word Roman never wants used in regards to any aspect of his marriage ever again in life.

They've had enough space to last them a fucking lifetime.

Paloma claps the remnants of crumbs from her hands and walks over to him. Roman allows her to take Dulce, ensuring she's holding her properly.

"Go." Paloma nods toward the backdoor. "She's out by the ocean." Roman's expression must give away his curiosity, as she smiles softly. "Some of us believe water to be sacred, some say it holds memories, others say it represents life and fertility." Her grin is solemn, bittersweet. "I think it made her feel closer to you."

Roman, once again, has nothing to say in response. Is sitting on the words that are covered and too enmeshed with all the emotions he's feeling. That he refuses to show but feels nonetheless.

"Go," Paloma repeats herself, stepping back while gently caressing Dulce's head. "I think you've both waited long enough, don't you?"

Very fucking much so.

He gives Dulce a final pet on her head before nodding at Paloma. "Thank you."

For it all.

She says nothing, talking to Dulce in Spanish as she heads back in the kitchen and him out the backdoor. There's a strange, unfamiliar, weird as fuck sensation that climbs up his legs and settles into his stomach as Roman makes his way through the backyard, leading to the beach.

Nerves.

It feels like nervousness, but he hasn't the slightest clue as to why when he literally never gets nervous. Ever. Also, why the hell would he be nervous to see his wife? This is Solana. What reason does he have to be nervous about seeing her?

It's small, a glint of a thing, but it comes to him, Roman gradually realizing his nervousness comes from the fact that he's unsure how she feels. How she feels about how long they've been separated. How long he left her.

Longer than either of them would have liked, but shorter than what either feared.

He wonders….he wonders if she'll be upset with him, and that's always been something he's struggled with. He doesn't like upsetting her. Never has. But, he also knows this separation was completely beyond his control. Necessary. It was necessary for Roman to clean up the mess back home before she could return. To eliminate all potential threats.

And, that's exactly what he's done.

He just hopes she understands.

Roman manages to quietly but brusquely wave away the guards that patrol the same beach he walked on over a month ago. It feels like a lifetime. Like a millennia that he's been gone, and he's hated every fucking second of it.

Scowling at a guard who takes too damn long for his liking to leave, Roman readies to verbally accost them when he sees it.

Sees her.

Maybe a good ten to twelve feet away, she's exactly where her grandmother said she would be.

Standing by the Ocean.

Roman stills, completely overcome with all the things.

Standing, facing the water, she plays with something in her hand, her gaze focused on the waves in front of her while he focuses on something else entirely.

The fall of her long, sleeveless white dress against her stomach. Against her baby bump that's significantly more prominent than the last time he saw her. When he left, Solana could still, with the right clothes, conceal her bump. But now, he's almost certain there's no concealing that. No hiding that she's in fact pregnant, that a child grows in her womb.

Two.

He swallows, watching as she tosses whatever was in her hand into the water. Watches how she lowers her hand to her stomach, rubbing and smiling sadly. Watches as she turns to continue walking among the sand, water slapping against the bottom of her dress.

It's only then he realizes the distance happening between that.

The last thing he wants.

No more.

He's careful in his movements, long legs allowing him to close said distance with a minimal amount of time. He does his best, however, to not alarm or scare her. To keep his presence a secret, of sorts.

And, then she stops. Stops walking.

So does he.

Roman sees her head tip down, hears her quiet, soft chuckle. "You know…." His stomach twists. It's been too long since he's heard her voice. "You don't have to stay so close to me."

The smallest hint of a smile as he shoves back all those damn emotions. "I don't think I could ever not want to be close to you, pretty girl."

A gasp. A small shout even. The way her body snaps around feels almost impossibly and inhumanly too fast.

But, she does.

She does.

Solana is staring at him, mouth ajar, eyes widen, face filled with all the shock. She doesn't move. Doesn't say anything, not at first, anyway.

"Roman…"

And, that breathy, emotion filled address is followed by her gathering up the bottom of her dress and closing that damn distance between them.

Her arms are around him, holding on tighter than she's ever held him. The same way his are wrapped around her waist, her baby bump between them nothing but an additive. An inclusion into this heartwarming reunion.

"You're here," she cries into him. Her fingers grasp at the hair on the back of his neck, her body trembling against him as she sobs. "You're here…"

His eyes shut. "I'm here," he repeats, kissing her temple. He doesn't let her go. Not once. Not fucking once.

Solana holds on and clings to him, murmuring, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Roman sighs, reciprocating the exact same thing, because he’s felt the exact same thing. 

And, he tells her as such. “I’ve missed you, too, Sol.” Deeply. In all of the ways. And thinking of it, thinking of how lonely he’s felt without her soothing presence, brings up those emotions. Emotions he does his best to keep at bay. This isn’t about him. It’s about her.

But, Solana is perceptive. She knows him better than he knows himself, sometimes, it feels like. 

So, when she pulls away to look up at him, he sees it. Sees the way her gaze shifts, how she transitions from being overwhelmed with feelings of everything and above. Slides into something of concern.

She grasps his face, voice quiet but audible. "What's wrong?"

A lot of things. More than he'd like to admit, and in a weird turn of events, it has nothing to do with the reason she's had to remain in Mexico.

And everything to do with the woman he wishes would have never reappeared in his life.

Would have stayed dead.

But, that's for then. Roman mentally nor emotionally feels like discussing that. Not right now.

He wants to enjoy this.

Enjoy her.

So, he settles for a truth for her ears and her ears only.

Roman licks his bottom lip, voice quiet and vulnerable. "I've needed you…"

He sees the moment her shoulders drop, a heavy, heartfelt sigh leaving her mouth. "Mi amor….." Solana blinks, shaking her head. "Come here…." Solana pulls him back into a hug, except, this time, it feels less for her. More for him.

Because, it is for him.

She's comforting him.

Solana kisses his temple, sliding her fingers up, gently massaging his scalp. "I'm here now." He sighs against and into her. "It's okay." She's with him. He's not alone anymore, and as long as there's breath in her body, he'll never be alone again. She goes to reassure him again when a sensation causes her to still. A movement. In her stomach.

Solana jerks back, mouth slightly ajar, hands on her belly as she looks down.

Naturally, Roman's entire disposition shifts. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't say anything. She can't. She's waiting for—again.

She feels it again.

Undeniable, this time.

Emotion climbing all over once more, she murmurs, "oh my God...."

"Solana, what's wrong?" He repeats himself, the concern growing as he moves closer to her.

Shaking her head, she reaches for his hands, laying them on her stomach. She looks up, eyes still watery, and a smile weighed down with that emotion. "Feel."

Roman, however, remains equally confused as he is concerned. "Solana, what—"

Silence.

Movement.

His expression shifts once more. Less concerned. Fully taken back. "Is that—"

"It is." She nods, sniffling and explaining. "I—I was starting to get concerned, because I hadn't…I hadn't felt them at all, and I should have at this point in the pregnancy, but I think—" She reaches a hand to cup his bearded face, voice cracking. "I think they were just waiting for daddy to come back."

His eyes lock with hers, filled with all the sincerity and vulnerability. Love. Filled with love.

They're kicking. His daughters. For the first time, for the both of them, Roman and Solana can more than just see them. They can feel them.

It's something one can't truly nor accurately describe. Just an insane amount of joy and delight.

Happiness.

Solana takes her other hand and rests it atop his that hasn't left her stomach.

"Let's go home, mi amor."

—--------

It doesn't take long for the family of three to leave. Solana had wondered why so many people had been over at the house yesterday. Why it felt like they'd lingered a bit longer than usual, even with it being an early Christmas "party." She'd felt like something was off but had pushed it to the side, chalking it up to her emotions being muddy due to Roman's absence and her pregnancy.

But, now, now she knows it's because Roman had informed her abuela and the appropriate parties that he'd be coming for her, and abuela sought to make sure everyone had time to see her and say "goodbye," so that they could leave shortly after he arrived.

Which is exactly what happened. Solana's longest goodbye was with her grandmother, as was expected. It was not without the promise for Paloma to come to the states and stay with her and Roman during the last month of Solana's pregnancy to ensure she didn't miss the birth.

An easy thing for the older woman to agree to.

The best thing for Solana.

But, what's not best nor preferred and definitely not liked is the quietness of her husband. Not that Roman is ever one for many words, in the first place. But, it's the fact that she knows there's a reason behind his quietness that bothers her. It bothers her to know there's something wrong with him, and he's not saying anything.

They lay in bed together on his private jet carrying them back to a home she's been dying to see for over a month now.

It's felt so much longer than that.

So much longer.

Her fingers caress his scalp as he lays besides her, body slightly hovered over hers as he continues to rub her stomach. "I can't….I can't believe how…how much you've grown."

"You mean how big I've gotten?" She teases in a soft voice and with a small smile. He looks up with a tiny glare. She sighs, eyes falling to her stomach. "I'll be five months next week…."

He knows. She's sure he knows, and he confirms as such. "I know. I….I was following along in that app you showed me."

Her chest tightens just a bit.

So was she.

"Ro…." He's once again forced to redirect his focus from her bare belly to her concerned gaze. "Talk to me." Something flashes in his eyes, prompting her to whisper, "what happened?"

It's strange how just the gleam of something in his warm eyes say so much without saying anything. She studies the way he shifts, watches how he moves to sit up next to her. She turns and angles her body as much as she can, holding onto his arm. "Rom—"

"My mother is still alive."

One blink. Two. Three.

A what that rests on the tip of her tongue. That small part of her, though unlike his character, waiting for the joke. For the confirmation that he isn't being serious.

But, it never comes. He just continues to look down, hand on her thigh, moving up in down in calming motions.

Solana sits up, eyes slightly widened. "Wh—what?"

Roman's jaw twitches. "She's—she's alive." He turns to look at her. "She's been alive. All this fucking time."

There's a continued, lingering disbelief. One that has her with so many questions, mainly, a big, massive how. Though Roman hadn't gone into explicit specifics, the way his family was killed, she'd just assumed…

How?

Disbelief paints her face. "How—how did you find out—"

"I saw her."

Silence. "You did?"

He nods, still not looking at her, focused on the edge of the bed where Dulce sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the heavy conversation transpiring. "She—she showed up at my office. Her and���.and my grandfather.”

“Grand….” Solana knew she must have missed a lot during their separation but just how much she missed is blowing her mind right now. “I didn’t….maternal?” He doesn’t provide a direct answer, but it’s not exactly necessary. She can put two and two together. But, that’s about the only thing she can piece together. “Rom—”

“She should have stayed fucking dead.”

At that, she swallows. Gone are any traces of vulnerability. Replaced is anger. 

And, a lot of it.

“Baby—”

“I don’t need her. Didn’t then. Don’t now.” Words spoken from anger and something else. Definitely something else. “Doesn’t matter if she’s alive. She’s still dead to me.”

It’s obvious a conversation occurred when his mother, his alive mother, showed up at his office. A conversation Solana would bet did not go well. Did not go well at all. But, she can also see it. See that he’s not in a place or space to have that discussion right now. It needs to be had though. For sure. But, she won’t force it. Won’t force him. 

She’ll give him his space. For now. And revisit when the time is not necessarily right—because she's not sure that exists for something like this—but better than it is now. 

Solana leans up and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering as she murmurs, “it’s okay, mi amor.” It’s not. It’s very much not okay. But, it’s been not okay since she was kidnapped and the betrayals were revealed, and that is something, she’s almost certain, he still hasn’t processed either. So, this massive, unexpected thing is going to have to take the backburner until they get everything else sorted. What exactly that looks like, she’s not sure. She just knows that she’ll be with him every step of the way in and with whatever this journey looks like.

Always.

—-------

They don't leave their bedroom. Not on Christmas Eve. Not really. Nothing but discussions, reunification, and lovemaking. Making up for all of the time lost and then some. For Roman and Solana, the world consists of only them and Dulce. Everything else is irrelevant as they engage in and indulge in each other.

A necessity after being apart for so long.

Christmas morning is special for a variety of reasons. The main one being the minute they pulled up to the house upon her return home, she was immediately taken back by the outside. Christmas lights and other decorations greeted her and Dulce, who damn near jumped out of her arm to go bark at the Santa that Roman had on the porch. 

And, the surprises continued, as Solana found the interior just as wonderfully, festively decorated as the outside.  

Tears in her eyes, she’d looked over at him in disbelief. She’s known from the beginning his stance on holidays, so coming home to find her home so beautiful and cheery, it meant so much to her. He'd done it for her, because he loves her. The reason he does majority, if not all the amazing things he does and is for her. Her eyes shut as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, murmuring, “welcome home, baby.”

A wonderful welcome it certainly was. 

Waking up extra early Christmas morning, Solana managed to sneak away, venturing downstairs to her kitchen where she was able to prepare and surprise her husband with a grand breakfast. 

Among other things. 

He’d come down the steps, partially irritated only because it hadn’t dawned on him to have the chef prepare breakfast for them. An insult to her, though. 

If there’s one thing Solana loves, it’s to cook. She especially loves to cook for her husband. And given it’s their first major holiday spent together, she’s not prepared to let it go to waste. 

She simply lets her husband hold her, leaning up on her toes to kiss him, an emotional “Merry Christmas, mi amor” on her lips right as Dulce comes running in, like the firstborn that she is, clearly eager and ready to open gifts. 

Despite Dulce’s protests, the actual gift opening doesn’t happen until after Solana and Roman have shared breakfast together, the easy, light banter and conversation between them something both had deeply missed. 

But, when it does roll around for presents to be revealed, no one is happier than Dulce who receives an abundance of toys, clothes (she could pass on that), treats, and yet more beds. 

Giggling, Solana looks over at Roman who watches, shaking his head as Dulce makes herself comfortable in her latest sleeping option. “Now, who’s got her spoiled?”

He rolls his eyes, snapping a photo of their primadonna puppy. She especially appreciates how he's had his camera out, snapping and capturing memories ever since she returned. “You started it.”

Debatable. 

Of course, Roman being Roman, went above and beyond with his gifts for his wife. Solana is certain their new house will need a separate room just for all of her clothes and accessories. Once again, she’s overwhelmed with expensive, designer bags, jewelry, etc. But, as always, what makes her the happiest are the journals and books. They mean the most to her out of anything. It’s all appreciated, but there’s something about him gifting her with something he knows she loves so deeply that makes it even better.

But, as thankful and grateful she is for his never-ending generosity, she’s most excited, albeit nervous, for her gifts for him.

“Okay,” she starts, having walked over and grabbed two of the bags she’d snuck under their tree before going to bed last night. “Your turn.”

Roman lowers his camera from where he was snapping photos of her. “Baby, you know I don’t need anything.”

“Neither did I, and that didn’t stop you.” Is her soft counter. Solana stands before him, both bags in one hand, the other hand rubbing her belly. “Plus, I had to….it’s our first Christmas together.”

And, the last Christmas where they’ll just be a family of three, because come this time next year, they’ll have their daughters.

Just the thought brings a small smile to her face.

He sighs, moving the Canon to the right of him. “Still, Sol.”

She ignores him, offering the bag with what she wants him to see first. “Open it.”

He accepts it, legs spread just enough to rest it on the exposed space of the sofa. Solana bites down on her bottom lip, watching his face the whole time to assess for his reaction. She watches how he pulls out the neatly folded shirt, the tissue paper falling to the carpet. Sees how he lifts it up, the plain black back facing her, the front facing him. 

“OTC?” 

He lowers it just enough to catch her gaze. She nods, softly, offering explanation as he moves it to his lap, fingers ghosting over the intricate design embedded behind the blood red letters. 

“You’re the Only Tribal Chief.” Once more, his eyes are on her. “My OTC.”

It’s a term she’d heard Domingo, Matteo, and Dwayne use at various points back in Mexico. A powerful term considering everything that happened. One that feels entirely applicable for her husband. 

They tried to get rid of him, tried to kill him, tried to lay claim to a throne that rightfully belongs to him. 

But, they failed.

And, they always will.

Roman Reigns is the Tribal Chief. 

The Only Tribal Chief.

“Your OTC, huh?” Her smile is shy, almost. There’s a hint of respect in his voice that means a lot to her. “I like that.” A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he again focuses on the design, recognition dawning. “These patterns….”

“They’re your tattoos,” she answers the unasked question. “I—I designed it for you.”

His surprise is evident and unhidden. “You did?”

Another nod and an almost bashful acknowledgement. “Yeah…” She shrugs with just one shoulder, adding, “I know you’re not into….fashion and things like that, but, I don’t know, I just thought—” An unfinished statement as she’s gently tugged forward, in between his legs and then onto his lap. The shirt resting over the same arm that’s over her, his hand on the side of her belly. 

“I love it,” he murmurs, eyes flitting up and down over her. “Thank you.”

Solana’s smile is unavoidable, as she leans forward to kiss him. “You’re welcome.” Wasting no time, she hands him the other bag. “Here.”

He wordlessly accepts it only after placing the shirt on the sofa beside him, next to his camera, the gift bag carefully kicked to the side, still on the floor. 

“This one might be my favorite.” Her confession is accompanied by part 2 of watching every movement he makes before reaching the end goal. Instead of lifting it up, largely due to the fact that she sits on his lap, Roman simply lays it to the side where both of them can see it. 

An amused smile grows at the way he scowls, confusion evident as he looks down at the black shirt with white writing. Spanish. He looks at her. “What does it say?”

She giggles. “Real men make twins.”

His smile also grows, the biggest she’s seen in some time. The quiet laughter that leaves his mouth is nourishment to her soul she didn’t realize she was lacking until now. “I saw it in the market while I was on my girls trip, but I couldn’t get it, because I didn't want to risk anyone finding out about the pregnancy. But, Afia saw me looking at it and bought it for me, so I guess it’s a gift from her.”

“Naw.” He shakes his head, thumb brushing over the lettering. “It’s from you.” He lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “And, I love it.”

A second reiteration. An overwhelming appreciation.

“Good,” she murmurs, voice softening as she takes his hand, squeezing slightly. “But, that’s not all.”

“Solana…”

Climbing off his lap, she gives the slightest tug, forcing him to stand. “Come on, papa.”

Quiet, expected grumbles as she starts to guide them out of the living room. Solana goes to call for Dulce to go with them, but a single glance reveals she’s fast asleep in her latest princess bed.

He shakes his head. “I told you she’s lazy.”

“Hush,” Solana chides lightly, holding his hand as she walks them to the back of the house, ignoring his question of where they’re going. 

But, it’s when they’re outside of her art room, she turns and looks up at him. “Okay, close your eyes.”

He sighs. “Baby—”

“Roman, I’m not going to tell you again,” she warns, crossing her arms, not missing how his eyes fall to her breast at the motion of them unintentionally being pushed together. “Close your eyes.”

He’s slightly annoyed. She can see as much. She also doesn’t care.

“Fine.” Her smile returns, as he obliges. Solana lifts and waves her hand in front of him, checking to make sure he’s not looking. Satisfied he isn’t, she opens the door and hits the light switch.

“Come on,” she encourages, taking his hands, guiding him into the room. Solana walks them over to the wall space opposite the open window, the natural light highlighting the heavy, black drape over her main Christmas gift for her husband. “Just a minute.” Solana works to remove the drape, allowing it to fall to the floor. Solana kicks it to the side, preventing it from obscuring any portion of the gift. “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Open.”

Roman doesn’t need to be told twice.

He opens his eyes.

Once again, Solana is focused solely and only on him, wanting and almost needing to see every reaction, minute to overt. And, there’s certainly a reaction.

She sees the way his face instantly softens, brows relaxed, mouth partially open. But, he doesn’t say anything, just steps forward, moves closer to the massive framed drawing that’s only a few inches shorter than him.

He stands in front of it, Solana watching silently from the side, chewing on her bottom lip. “I—I’d started one here a few months ago, but obviously, I couldn’t finish, so I….I started over while I was in Mexico. I wasn’t….I wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish it before you came back, but I did.”

She’s not certain how much of the backstory he’s retaining, as it’s obvious his attention is fully focused on the unexpected gift.

“Solana…” His voice is both heavy and quiet, the weight in it undeniable emotion. “You…you made this?”

She nods with a soft smile. “Yeah.”

He returns his attention to the large scale drawing. It’s of him. A sort of headshot with the only trace of his body being his tattooed shoulder. The main focus, however, is him, his face. A side profile, jaw and expression fierce, chin jutted. An almost regal pose. His hair down and flowing, however, is what he can’t seem to look away from. Because embedded in the ringlets of his mane are two other individuals. Subtle but visible. One smiling shyly, very similar to Solana’s own current expression. The other wearing a similar expression to his own.

His daughters.

It’s his daughters.

“I know it might…” Solana starts, sounding a bit unsure. “I know it might seem silly to include them. We’ve only….we’ve only seen them in dreams, but I….” She stops, eyes closing, hands to her belly. “I know that’s them. I just….I can feel it.” 

She just can. How or why, she hasn’t a clue. Solana just knows the sweet little twin girls that she and Roman have dreamed about for months are the little girls growing inside of her stomach. 

Visions, as she once called them. 

Glimpses of their future.

A beautiful, wonderful future. 

“Baby….” His voice is even heavier. Thick with emotion. A true space of vulnerability reserved for her and only her. “It’s beautiful.”

Her throat is heavy, eyes watering. “You like it?”

Roman scoffs and reaches for her hand, gently pulling her in front of him. He brings his hands to her face, his eyes gleaming with something confined and unspoken. “I love it.” Similar sentiments towards the shirts but deeper. Infinitely deeper. "Thank you."

Her eyes shut as he kisses her forehead, one hand dropping to her stomach, moving in a gentle circle. Appreciative. Grateful. Loving.

Solana moves herself into him, holding and hugging him as he kisses the top of her head. 

“Merry Christmas, Roman…”

—-----------

The day is spent just as Christmas Eve was spent. Together. Solana reaches out and wishes happy holidays to close friends and family, but for the most part, she’s tucked up under her husband the majority of the day. Talking, discussing, planning. The pregnancy. Post birth. The new house. Dreams of the future they’ve worked so hard to create and contribute to.

Pieces finally coming together.

She is, however, a bit surprised when evening rolls around, and he shares that they have dinner reservations at one of her favorite restaurants. It’s extremely unexpected given she’s yet to make her status as not dead a public thing yet. 

Or, rather, shared it with appropriate parties. 

But, he assures her that privacy and "secret" will be maintained, and she believes him. Roman has always prioritized giving and allowing them the space to just be. That, especially after everything that’s happened, is bound to not change anytime soon. 

If ever.

So, she obliges, getting done up, even donning a dress not even a year ago she wouldn’t dare to brave, let alone while pregnant. But, that was then. This is now. She’s a completely changed person in all the best ways. 

So, they share dinner together, talking, connecting, completely immersed in only the person sitting across from them. It’s a bit scary to her just how easy it is to get lost in Roman. The world feels like it starts and ends with him sometimes.

She wonders if he feels the same way about her.

Something tells her he does.

But, as they drive back home after almost three hours at the restaurant, Solana can feel it. Feel a shift within him. Nothing bad. Just….different. 

He’s quiet, and while she could guess that it’s largely due to them exhausting most and all topics on their date, it’s different. She can’t explain it, but she feels it. 

They ride home in almost complete silence. One of his big hands resting on her stomach, the other on the steering wheel.

She doesn’t say anything though. Prefers to wait until they’re back at the house. 

But, it’s when they arrive home, stepping out of the car, Roman closing the door behind her, Solana’s attention is immediately drawn to the front door. 

“Ava?”

Sure enough, Roman’s cousin stands at their front door, and not only is she standing in the front door, but she’s holding Dulce.

Naturally, Solana walks over, Ava meeting her halfway on the cobblestone driveway, instantly pulling her into a one arm hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” she murmurs. Only then does Solana realize this is the first time they’ve seen each other since the coup.

She sighs. Happily. “It’s good to see you, too, Ava.”

Briefly, Solana wonders if her friends will feel the same. 

Cameron. Mickie. Melina.

Will they also be relieved or too upset by the subterfuge?

It’s a thought she has to shake away, as the two women separate. Ava takes a step back, smiling widely at Solana’s bump. “Holy shit, they’re getting so big.” 

Solana giggles and rubs her bump. “They are.” However, it’s Dulce looking over, ears up, clearly wanting to be pet that redirects Solana’s attention. “What….what are you doing here?”

She looks up and back at Roman who stands close behind Solana. “I–I wanted to see you guys.”

Solana eyes her suspiciously. “Ava, you hate Roman.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You literally told me, “I hate him.” To be fair, Solana knows that Ava doesn't actually hate Roman, but there's something about her reason for being at their house that just feels...off.

Again, more avoidance. “Okay, but that was before he almost died and shit, and then we lost an aunt. Like, a lot has happened,” she dismisses. “Besides,” her smile returns as she caresses the top of Dulce’s head, “I wanted to see this cutie.”

Solana frowns. “Dulce?”

“Duh. She’s like my favorite person in this lil fam'.” Ava reaches to rub Solana’s belly. “Until the girls get here, of course.” But before Solana can comment on Ava’s….strange demeanor, she suddenly announces, “well, I’m gonna go take her for a walk.”

At that, Solana frowns. “A walk? Dulce doesn’t go on walks this late.”

“Well, she does now.” The other woman frowns, covering her mouth with one hand to whisper, “she’s getting a little chunky.”

Dulce looks over, her ears lifting as if knowing she’s just been insulted. 

Ava, however, just offers a wave. “Have fun!” 

Solana can only open her mouth and turn to Ava who saunters off like nothing just happened. 

“What—” 

“It’s fine, Sol,” Roman advises, stepping forward and kissing her temple. 

“Where is she taking our baby?” Solana asks, trying to look past her monolithic man of a husband as he gradually guides her inside the house. “It’s getting late—”

“Damn dog sleeps all day anyway.”

Solana gasps, slapping him lightly on the chest. “Be nice.” He snorts, managing to guide her onto the porch. She continues to look off in the direction where Ava walked. “Are you sure—”

“Solana.” She turns her gaze back to him, realizing only then how serious he’d become. But, also something else….something close to trepidation. 

Like, he’s nervous. 

Solana frowns. “Roman, what’s going on?” 

In the time she’s known him, he’s never acted like this with her. So….on edge. 

But, once again, he dismisses it, instead taking her hand to lead her into their home. 

For now. 

Their home for now. 

But, that’s the least of her concerns. What sits promptly at the top of the list is the weird behavior from Ava and the uncharacteristic disposition of her husband. “Roman Tamasa Reigns—” She starts, right behind him as he goes to open the door and step inside. “What the hell is going—” She stops the second she’s inside. “On….” Solana feels like breathing is suddenly a thing only few are allowed and privy to. And, she’s not one of those people. “Oh my….” 

There’s so much to take in. The rose petals that are carefully placed and decorating the entire entryway of the home. Of various red, pink, and white colors. Heart shaped balloons in every corner. Soft music that plays in the background, a tune she can’t focus on because of everything else. Lit candles placed strategically and carefully around the home in conjunction with the low lighting that serves as the perfect ambiance. 

“Oh my God,” Solana finds words, but they’re brief and weighed down with all the emotion that fills her chest when she finally realizes what song is playing. 

Can’t Help Falling in Love 

The version from one of her favorite movies of all time, Crazy Rich Asians, from one of her favorite scenes in any adaptation of all time. 

Tears blur her vision as she looks over at her husband. “Roman…”

He says nothing, just reaches for her hand, directing her to follow him. “Come on.”

“Baby….” Her voice breaks as she does as he says, all the while taking in the beauty around her. Beauty that extends past just the foyer, the path continuing into their living room and kitchen. It’s all shades and rays of pinks and reds.

But, it’s when she sees the backyard, the petals that continue along the path there, litter their pool along with beautiful lanterns, the music even louder, emanating from the outdoor speakers, that it really breaks her. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Solana starts crying, her hand over her mouth. It takes everything in her to ask, so overcome with so many feelings, “you….you did all this for me?” She sniffles, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful.”

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

“Solana…” He moves closer to her, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not….I’m not good with words like you are, and half of this shit, I needed Ava and….Fetu’s help to figure out the best way to do” Words that make her heart stop. Fetu. If Fetu had helped Roman arrange this, then that would mean he’s been planning this for months.

Months.

He continues, swallowing, “we didn’t start out the right way, and that’s because of me. I deprived you of that. Our wedding was traumatic for you, and I fucking hate that shit more than you could ever know. I don’t ever want to be on the causing side of your trauma.”

Her eyes water, her heart aching. “Roman, you could never–”

“And, I know I can’t change what happened, but I can offer you another chance.” Solana has to remind herself the importance of breathing, watching how he reaches inside his suit jacket. “I know that my forever is with you. My forever is you, but I—I want us to do it the right way. To give you that the right way, because you deserve it, baby.”

She’s crying into her hands again as he moves to one knee. “Oh my God….”

“Solana Esmeralda Reigns, I love you, and I don’t think I’ll ever really deserve you, but I love you, and I promise to always take care of and protect you and the family we’ve made.” Her eyes widen as he pops the ring box open, revealing the most beautiful ring she’s ever seen. A massive pink diamond in the most breathtaking setting. “Will you marry me?”

Emotions. All of the emotions. Fluttering, raining, running, drowning her. 

It’s all overwhelming in the most unexpected way. He went through so much to make this happen, has been working on this for months, working to provide her the type of fantasy a woman can only dream of. The type of thing people read about in sappy romance books, all the while knowing the reality of anything similar ever happening being slim to none.

And, it’s that slim space that he’s found and made a reality. 

But, it’s only when Solana feels her babies kicking, both of them, that she realizes an answer is due.

The only answer she could ever give the man in front of her.

“Yes,” she breathes. The smallest hint of a smile on his handsome face tugs on her heartstrings even more. She cries harder. “Of course, yes.”

A million times over. In all the ways. In every universe. 

Solana watches as he removes her current ring—something she 100% plans to still keep—replacing it with the new, current one. She can only continue to stare in utter shock and disbelief at the stunning, unexpected ring sitting on her ring finger. Just like she can barely wait for him to be back on his feet to reach up, palming his face as she leans up to kiss him. Passionate. Intense. Love. 

So much love. 

Their eyes shut, foreheads touching as she moves his hands to her stomach to feel their girls moving around, as if also partaking in this unforgettable moment of love, promise, and future.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

—--------

"Where are we going?"

To be fair, the minute it comes out of her mouth, she already knows she's not about to receive an answer. Not a straight one anyway.

Roman lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the corner of his mouth brushing against her new wedding ring. He follows this up with a simple, "you'll see." Roman lowers their now conjoined hands, maneuvering the steering wheel with his other hand, offering nothing else.

Solana is tempted to pry and try to extract something more than that, but she decides against it. Roman has been full of nothing but positive, beautiful, wonderful surprises since their reunion. 

Something tells her this will be no different. 

Instead, her attention travels to the emotional reunion she had just yesterday at the local community recreation center. 

The children.

The children from her reading club.

Of all the people to see and reveal her not being dead to, that had to be the hardest group. Such young, innocent lives forever changed. Mourning the loss of Mrs. Jensen, the kind librarian who lost her life for nothing. Mourning the loss of her. Except, one loss was permanent. Never to be changed.

It’s a type of loss and grief Solana knows she hasn’t really started to feel and process, but one that’s bound to come sooner or later.

However, while the kids were surprised, obviously emotional, they were mostly relieved. Happy. Filled with so much relief. She was tackled with so many hugs, so many questions especially about her stomach. About her pregnancy.

Something she included in her child-friendly explanation. 

“My husband and I had to make sure those bad people couldn’t hurt me or our babies.”

Not a lie. 

Not a lie at all. 

But, it’s also the overwhelming appreciation from the parents that took Solana by surprise. The indescribable appreciation and gratitude they extended her way.

“You saved my baby.”

She can’t count how many times she was told that and other variations. A truth she hadn’t really considered until then. She wasn’t thinking about how she was, in fact, saving the kids’ lives by pleading with Solo for mercy.

She was just doing what was right.

It’s a bittersweet thing, because while she was able to save the children, she couldn’t save the other lives lost. Innocent people just going to their local library.

Sami.

Bautista.

Two people who, though not knowing for long, she will miss greatly. They were good men who didn’t deserve the ending that found them. A sentiment she shares with her husband who has vowed that he’ll make sure their families are looked after and always taken care of. 

He’d already issued payment to cover the rest of Bautista’s daughter’s collegiate years along with six figure college funds for Sami’s children. Is funding his widow's move out of the city to be closer to family.

Kind, appreciated gestures that help but don’t fully the dull the ache and pain of grief.

Again, more processing Solana knows she’ll have to work through over the next few months.

Years, even.

And, she continues to think of the past, the present, and the near future up until the SUV comes to a stop. 

One glance out the window, and all she sees is….nothing.

Solana continues to look around confused as all the outdoors. Her confused expression remains as Roman rounds the SUV and opens the door for her, helping her step out.

"Ro…." He steps back only after making sure she's flat and stable on the ground, taking her hand in his once more. "What…."

Roman continues to remain silent, guiding them deeper into….nothing.

Nothing exists around them outside of the security detail, grass, and trees in the far off distance. Beautiful. She can acknowledge that much. The views of hills and forestry in the distance are a beautiful compliment to the sun that shines behind it, illuminating and highlighting it almost.

None of that, however, explains just why her husband has them in the middle of beautiful nowhere.

"What do you think?"

Solana looks over and up at him, the two finally stopped, a distance large enough between them and their security so that a conversation can be had privately, without listening ears.

"Umm…." It could possibly be one of the most confusing questions she's had presented to her in some time. "It's…..it's a beautiful view, and the grass is….really green."

The smallest smile falls on Roman's face prompting her to reciprocate it. She loves to see him smile.

Especially these days.

Roman lifts his sunglasses up, placing them atop his head as he makes a low sound. She watches him move to stand behind her, leaning down, holding her from behind, hands on her stomach. "It's almost 700 acres." Her eyes widen at that. It's even bigger than it looks, and that's saying something. "A couple miles away from the nearest other property." Solana's initial profound confusion diminishes ever so slightly at that last line, and she knows Roman must sense it. He holds her closer, pushing back strings of her hair. "More than enough room to build as big as you want."

Her head snaps to look at him, that recognition and realization slamming into her. "Ro…"

He gestures ahead, Solana following his line of vision. "Main house could be right there." He motions to the right. "Mother-in-law suite over there." Another gesture to the broad span of emptiness. "And then anything else we want."

"Roman…" Solana pouts, eyes watering as it all comes to her. As she sees exactly why they're here. Why he's taken her here. Sees the vision. Stepping away, their hands drop as she moves one of hers to her belly, eyes closing. She can see it. See Lina and Leya chasing Roman around the pool, eager and determined to finally "catch" him. Can hear the sounds of their happy laughter and the ding of the oven signifying lunch is ready. Can smell the delicious aroma of her abuela's cooking. Can feel the love that consumes her little family.

Her home.

It's why she turns around to look at him. "It's perfect."

That same small smile returns. "Yeah?"

Solana chuckles, walking back over and reaching up to cup his bearded face. "Yeah." She leans up to kiss him, lips lingering over his. "It's ours."

"Ours," he murmurs, hands on the sides of her stomach, pulling her to him. "When do you want to break ground?"

"Tomorrow." An easy answer. Solana moves her hands up his chest, explaining, "I know it won't be ready before the girls are here, but I at least want it ready for their first Christmas." A thought crosses her mind. “Wait, we have to sign paperwork though, right?”

He shakes his head, turning her around, leaning her back against him. “I already bought it.” She gasps. “I saw it while….while you were gone, and it just seemed right. But, I wanted to get your thoughts first—”

“It’s perfect.” She cuts him off, holding onto his forearms, eyes shutting from undeniable contentment. “And ours.”

He echoes her sentiments, kissing her cheek. “Ours.”

—----------

The minute Roman opens the door for her, and Solana steps out onto the field, she takes it all in. Imagines it. Imagines a time where the stadium is filled with cheering, yelling, excited bodies, all eager and fully immersed in the game. A game her husband once played.

And, then she looks up at Roman, sees how he also looks around, but he doesn't have to imagine. He can just remember. Relive, maybe.

Reliving his time in the stadium where he played football so many years ago. The stadium that they currently stand in.

Taking his hand in hers, Roman looks down, Solana offering a small smile.

He doesn't say anything, just leans over and kisses her forehead. Solana holds onto his arm as he walks them deeper into the gridiron, in the middle almost. And, it's not until she turns around that she realizes just how heavy their security detail is. Nine SUV's lined up back to back, armed men, some Bloodline, some Cartel, standing and watching. Always assessing.

Same as the man beside her.

"It's okay," she comforts, pressing a kiss against his arm.

He sighs, still not saying anything as he just continues to wait.

And watch.

Not even five minutes later, the familiar sound of cars. SUV's. Much like the entourage they traveled with. They come in from the opposite side of the stadium. Solana counts six of them.

And the fourth one is the one that they get out of.

She sees Cody first. Sees the way his gaze falls on them, falls on Roman. The same way she feels Roman tense next to her. Subtly, Solana caresses her fingers across his arm, a quiet gesture of continued comfort. Cody rounds the SUV and opens the side door, the first person to exit bringing a small smile on Solana's face.

Emma's too.

Solana can vaguely make out the sound of the little girl saying something, a big smile planted on her face as she makes a beeline towards where she stands with Roman. Already feeling him tense even more, Solana moves to stand in front of him, to prevent him from doing anything.

"Solana!" Emma cries out happily as she slams her little body against Solana's legs, hugging her.

"Hi, Emma," she greets, watching the little girl pull back, eyes wide, mouth ajar as she stares at her stomach.

At her baby bump.

"You're having a baby?"

Naturally, Solana's smile deepens. As does her pride. "I am." Eyes twinkling with playful curiosity, she asks, "you wanna know something else?" Emma nods rapidly, prompting Solana to giggle as she bends down to whisper in Emma's ear. "I'm having two babies."

Another loud gasp and a "really?"

Solana laughs, straightening up, rubbing her belly. "Yup."

It's only when Roman moves his hands to Solana, tugging her back beside him that she realizes Cody and Brandi have started to walk in their direction. Emma turns around and runs toward her parents, tugging on Brandi's shirt. "Mommy! Solana is having a baby! Two babies!"

Roman tenses once more beside her, Solana subtly brushing her arm against him. She knows he wasn't the most comfortable with this whole idea in the first place but especially because there's no way to hide her pregnancy anymore. Not to mention, her black one piece with gray cropped top does absolutely nothing to hide her pronounced baby bump.

But, Solana needed this. She needed to see Brandi and Emma, and while it definitely took a lot of convincing and pleading with her husband, he finally agreed. Reaching out to Cody who, surprisingly, agreed.

Solana wonders if Brandi and/or Emma wanted the same thing, too.

Brandi's gaze falls over to Solana as they step closer, close enough for her to reach over and pull Solana into a hug. Instantly and immediately, Solana feels it. The turmoil still brewing within the other woman. The trauma.

"It's okay," Solana whispers and holds her just a little tighter. "You're safe." The tiniest gasp leaves Brandi's mouth. Emotions she's clearly doing her best to keep at bay. For a variety of reasons but none more than the little girl with blue eyes who stands close to her dad, watching with curiosity the interaction between her mother and Solana.

Brandi clears her throat and backs away. She quickly wipes at her eyes and motions down. "I can't believe…." She trails off, the recognition settling in. "Does that mean you were—"

"Yes," Solana answers prematurely. She already knows the rest of it.

Brandi's expression grows solemn, prompting Solana to motion for her to step to the side with her.

Instantly, Solana feels Roman behind her, inching closer. "Sol—"

She turns around, eyes soft and pleading. "Please."

His jaw, much like his entire body, is tense. But, he meets her eyes, sees and feels the sincerity. The unspoken 'trust me.' And, he sighs, nodding. Approval.

She presses her lips together. Relieved. Thankful.

Solana and Brandi move to the side, Emma going to join them, staying close to her mom. Expected.

But, that leaves the two men alone, mere feet from each other. Both of them watch their wives quietly interact, Roman having to push away his irritation at seeing Brandi place a gentle hand atop Solana's belly.

"You know…." Cody's voice is the last thing Roman wants to hear right now. He's the last person Roman wants to see right now. "What they went through…." Roman turns a vicious glare onto the man he'd prefer to just put a bullet in and leave it at that. "They'll always be linked together."

The same way you and I are.

The unspoken, obvious ending neither man will ever be able to verbalize.

The same way Roman would rather be rotting in a grave somewhere than acknowledge the truth to Cody's statement.

But, he is right.

Solana, Brandi, and even the kid, shared something together. Experienced and survived something traumatic as fuck together. That means, the same way Cody and Roman, who also, in a convoluted manner, have a history cloaked in betrayal and trauma, will always be linked.

That doesn't mean Roman has to like or allow it to go beyond that.

"This is a one time thing." An announcement to Cody. Something he's yet to discuss with Solana. He understood why she wanted to see Brandi and Emma. Didn't like it, but made the arrangements. However, this shit can't happen again. "And, it doesn't change anything between us."

Regardless of the team up of sorts, even Roman learning more about the betrayal that resulted in the murder of his family, the role Rikishi played, it doesn't change what's happened. At the end of the day, there will always be a thick river of blood that separates him from the man across from him. That bleeds out whatever type of friendship that once existed between them.

That shit is dead.

"I have something for you!" Emma's happy voice shouts as she turns around and makes a beeline for the line SUV she's exited with her parents. Brandi turns around only for Cody to lift his hand, running after Emma, neither parent clearly wanting too much distance between themselves and their daughter.

Again, understandable.

With some newfound privacy, Solana takes advantage. "Brandi…." She turns around, expression expectant. "You haven't told him, have you?"

Just like that, her eyes shift. An abundance of something and then nothing. "What sense does it make?" Brandi looks away, discomfort palpable. "He's dead now."

Solana swallows. "Brandi—"

"He's dead, Solana." Her voice takes a dark, empty tone. "It's over."

Solana grows quiet. She sees it. God, she sees it. The pool of hurt and anger and fear and confusion, and every other emotion Brandi is clearly pushing away. Her lack of disclosure of the assault comes at no surprise to Solana. Neither does the other woman's overall disposition toward it. Indifference. An attempt to pretend like everything's okay.

When it's not.

It's very clearly not.

"When….when you're ready, and only then, just know that I'm here," Solana offers, voice just as gentle as her gaze. "I mean it."

Because while Brandi may not see or realize it now, at some point, she will need to talk. Or not even talk. Just be around someone who understands her. Understands her pain. Understands what it does to someone to be violated in the worst way possible. And sadly, Solana knows that all too well. It's a pain she wouldn't wish on anyone and why she's making herself available.

When Brandi is ready and needing support, she'll be there.

No matter what.

Brandi offers no verbal response, just nods and once again wipes at her eyes just as Emma runs back over.

"Merry Christmas!" She stands before Solana, a decorative bag not much bigger than her in her hands as she reaches it to the pregnant woman. "Well, late Christmas."

Solana gasps, a genuine smile on her face. "For me?"

Emma nods happily as Solana accepts the bag, moving to pull out the soft item covered in wrapping paper. A quiet gasp leaves Solana's mouth as she manages to place the card in between her thighs, Brandi catching the bag before it can fall onto the floor. "Oh my goodness…." There's a hint of awe in her voice both at the softness as well as the beautiful baby pink color of the knit blanket. "This is so beautiful!"

Emma's smile brightens as she looks up at her mom. "Mommy and I made it!" She sounds so proud, Solana's heart swelling at seeing her so happy. It's relieving, to say the least. "I hope you like pink."

"I love pink," Solana holds it up and hugs it, looking between mother and daughter. "Thank you." Such a kind, thoughtful gift from an equally kind little girl. Placing the blanket back in the bag, she moves closer to Emma. "I hope one day my little girls can be just as sweet and brave as you, Emma."

Emma's eyes light up once more, as she holds onto Brandi's leg, sharing with all the innocence of a young girl. "You're gonna be a super cool mommy."

This time, Brandi laughs along with Solana, the latter feeling tears brew in her eyes.

"I hope so, sweetie." Truly. "I hope so."

There's an unspoken reminder from the two men. An invisible countdown of sorts that's reached zero. That makes Solana to venture back over to Roman's side, and Brandi and Emma to move closer to Cody.

The conversation is brief, less emotional, largely due to the men before them. The tension between them is substantial. 

But when Emma asks the infamous question as to if/when she’ll see Solana again, the answer provided is something neither Roman—or Cody—seem to like.

“Yes.” It’s said with the most sincere smile. “You will.”

Solana knows she’ll have to figure all that out, and she will. Just not now.

A few more comments, well wishes, and a Happy New Year message are exchanged between the women, and Emma, before Cody quietly instructs them to head back to the cars.

It's only when Brandi and Emma's retreating forms are a good distance away that Cody directs his focus to Solana. "Solana…"

Naturally, Roman shoots his arm across and in front of his wife, sneering, "you don't get to fucking address her."

Cody's jaw twitches, something lingering in the back of his throat but set aside for what he's clearly intentional about saying. "I know my history with your husband must be something you're certainly aware of at this point." She says nothing, just moves her other hand to the small of Roman's back. Fingers gently scraping up and down. A calming, subtle gesture. "That it should come at no surprise to you that it took everything in me to agree to this. That the idea of being this close to the Tribal Chief and not putting a bullet in his head seems like the greatest missed opportunity."

At that, Solana has to actively grab Roman's arm, preventing her husband from lunging forward and carrying out an act she's sure he's dreamed about.

However, Cody remains unmoving. Undeterred. "But, the fact of the matter is that I'd be a hypocrite—"

"—you already fucking are—"

Cody ignores Roman's interjection. "Because I owe him." At that, both husband and wife still, never giving away just where they are to the man across from them, all the while still taken back by the unexpected statement. "And, I owe you."

"Because, my hatred for your husband can't and doesn't outweigh my knowing of the fact that if not for his resources, for his team, my story could have played out very differently." The most subtle yet visible softening of his expression. "I know what you did for my wife. For my daughter." Solana lifts her chin, mindful of her expression, though unable to ignore the emotion brewing. "You saved their lives, protected them, and that's a debt I can never truly repay."

Unexpected. It's such an unexpected thing to leave the mouth of the man who could, arguably, be her husband's biggest enemy.

She can practically feel the hate radiating off his big body.

Off both of them, really.

But, dimmed by that hate, with Cody, at least, is something else. Sincerity. He seems sincere with his words.

"You're wrong," she speaks for the first time. Roman never takes his eyes off Cody, however. "You can repay it, even though I don't see it as a debt or something that needs to be repaid. I saved your wife and protected your daughter, because that's who I am." Similar words said to Domingo. Words that she means with everything in her. Same for the next set that comes out. "But, if you see it as a debt, I'll hold you to that."

"Solana—"

"You want to settle that debt?" Solana moves past Roman's arm, feeling him reach for her hip as she approaches Cody with zero reservation. "I want your word that you will never lay a hand or bring any harm to my family or my husband." At that, there's visible shock from the man before her, and probably from the one behind her. "You hate Roman? That's fine. He hates you just as much, if not more. But, the same way he's not brought any harm to you or yours in years, I expect you to do the same. You stay the hell away from him. Now and until the end of time."

Truth be told, this was the last thing Solana expected to come out of this meeting. Her essentially threatening the leader of the Nightmare Factory. But, the opportunity to take advantage of what the man views as a debt is too great to pass up. If she can secure protection for her husband, for her future children, she'll do it every time.

His voice remains even. "That sounds a lot like a threat.”

"Your perception of my words is of no consequence to me." She shakes her head, nose turned up almost. "You can view it however you want. Just know that I have the Bloodline, the Cosa Nostra, and the Cartel behind me." Power. She has power. "And you know what I did to protect your family." Solana inches forward, head tilted, voice dangerously calm as she ominously asks, "so, what do you think I'd do to protect mine?"

Never ever would Solana do anything to directly hurt Brandi or Emma. Truth be told, she doesn't even want to see anything necessarily happen to Cody. But, she's not naive, either. She knows how this works. Knows that it's everyone for themselves, so she has to do what she has to do for hers.

Solana remains planted directly in front of him, gaze unwavering. Unbothered but aware of the fact that Roman stays close behind her, waiting and ready to move, if necessary.

Cody maintains her gaze, eventually nodding. "Alright." She remains still. "You have my word, Solana Reigns." Still unmoving. Waiting for it. "No harm will come to you or yours from me or mine."

Confirmation. Solana's response is simple. The bare minimum. "I plan to hold you to that."

And, she will.

Cody offers only a nod as he slowly steps back, a last glance toward Roman before turning to walk away.

Roman doesn’t look away. Not until the SUV's begin to drive off, one by one. It’s then she places her hand on his arm, as he takes a deep breath. “That was bold.”

“It was.” She won’t deny it. Won’t disagree whatsoever. “But, necessary.”

His jaw twitches, as he looks down. “Solana—”

“No one is ever going to come after our family again, Roman,” she vows. She means it with everything in her, too. “And, if they’re stupid enough to try….we’ll give them hell.”

Because, if there’s one thing this whole experience has taught and shown her, it’s that she’s not alone. 

They’re not alone.

And, they never will be again.

Solana takes his hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Let’s go home, baby.”

—--------

“Aye, the players have gotten too soft, I swear.” Santos sneers with all of the disgust, watching the game playing on the flat screen TV.

Dwayne lifts up his beer, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Lil pussies can’t take a fucking hit anymore.”

“That’s cause they don’t let those boys play anymore,” Steve snorts, finishing his second—or third—beer of the night. “Everything’s a fucking penalty.”

“I’ve never understood the appeal of American football,” Matteo admits, also sipping his beer. 

“And, I’ve never understood the appeal of most male dominated sports,” Afia chimes, walking past and leaning over behind the sofa to kiss her husband on the cheek. “Though some do look mighty fine doing so.”

Matteo sits up. “Hey.” Afia’s laughter is heard as she walks down the hall, heading to the kitchen but not before motioning for Solana to follow her. 

Solana, situated on Roman’s lap, looks down at her husband. “Baby—”

“What the fuck was that?” Roman shouts at the TV, his expression of frustration chorused with the other men seated around their living room. “Are you fucking shitting me? How was that not holding?”

Solana giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” he responds, gaze focused more on the TV than anything. She yelps when he slaps her ass as she adjusts her dress before walking off. 

In the kitchen, Solana finds the majority of the women lounging in her kitchen, some sitting at the island, some preparing their second plate of food, some just casually chatting. 

It’s an expected group, as the rest of the party attendees, primarily the older folks including her abuela, Bayley’s parents, and her grandma in a separate part of the house, watching the kids. Mostly, Afia and Matteo’s boys, as well as Melina and Santos son. 

Sana preferred to stay with the women, where she currently sits atop Bayley’s lap.

She’s taken a strong liking to her, ever since their time spent in Isla Mujeres.

“It’s amazing how football seems to be the universal language of men.” Melina says with a sigh, gesturing to where the group have been glued to the TV since the game started a half hour ago. “Any other time, they’d be trying to kill each other.”

Bayley makes a sound from where she sits on the bar stool, Sana on her lap, headphones on, attention on the tablet in her hand. She’s in her own little world. “Give it time.”

Ava makes a sound of agreement. “Especially with Big Ears over there.”

“Hey.” Solana remains standing, hand rubbing her belly. “Be nice.”

“What?” Ava scowls, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Solana, but you gotta admit those ears are big as hell. He looks like—what’s that Dwarf with the big ears?”

Mickie snorts, sipping on her wine. “The ears ain’t the only thing that’s big.”

Cam’s mouth drops. “Mickie, you gotta stop that.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Ava grimaces, walking over to grab the bottle of wine to refill her cup. 

“What? Did I lie?” Seeing the partially confused, partially intrigued expression on Stephanie’s face, Mickie leans over to whisper in her ear. 

When she pulls back, Stephanie’s mouth drops a bit, asking in her deep accent, “that big?”

Rhea looks like she’s about to vomit. “Disgusting!”

Solana covers her face, but spread fingers allowing her to see the smirk on Stephanie's face as she comments before sipping her beer. “I see why you’re pregnant.”

“You guys, stop it. That’s her husband,” Afia steps in, shaking her head before a smirk falls on her face. “Must run in the family.”

“Stop!” Solana shouts, eyes wide as laughter breaks out among the group, herself included as she shakes her head. “You guys are terrible.”

“Naw.” Mickie shakes her head, laughter settling into a small smile. “We’re family.” 

It’s an announcement that brings a comfortable silence over the spacious kitchen and women currently occupying the space. 

To say Solana was nervous about revealing her “dead but not dead” plot to some of the women around her would be an understatement. While recognizing the necessity of it for a myriad of reasons, it was still a difficult thing to do at the time and even more difficult to reveal as a non-truth.

Solana knew her friends would be mourning her death, mourning the tragic loss of her “life,” having to spend over a month in this headspace in believing her to no longer be among the living. 

So, sharing the truth, explaining the real story, was something she was not only nervous about but not looking forward to. She hated doing that to them. Necessary or not. 

But, a few days after being home, spending time with just her husband, Solana knew the longer she waited, the harder it would be. Her friends deserved the truth, and it’s a truth she delivered to them.

There were a lot of emotions. A lot of anger and confusion. Rightfully so. And, Solana accepted and handled it all, because again, it was deserved. 

But, it was after that dust settled, a new, strong emotion was present. 

Relief. 

They were relieved to know she was alive and even expressed understanding why Solana had to fake her murder. Recognized it was to protect her and her unborn children. 

And ultimately, they were just happy to have their friend back. 

To have their family. 

And, that’s why, on the last day of the year, at this New Years Eve party she planned and organized in only a couple of days, Solana will bring in the New Year surrounded by her loved ones. 

Her family.

“Enough of the sex talk.” Ava takes the lead to divert the conversation to something else, as she looks over at Solana. “Have you and Dumbo decided on names for the girls?”

Sounds of agreement and similar questions hit the ears of a smirking Solana. “Maybe.”

Melina scoffs, playfully shoving her, as she’s the closest. “Well?”

Shrugging, Solana answers truthfully. “We’re keeping their names a secret until they get here.” As expected, groans and grumbles, prompting her to clarify. “There’s….there’s a story there that makes how we picked them personal, so we just want to keep it between us….for now.” 

An agreed upon thing between the two of them, not to mention Roman and Solana having zero desire to explain that they’d both had dreams or visions of the girls before they even came to be. That’s such a special, intimate thing that both would like to keep between them.

Including the girls' names.

As she said, for now.

“I get that,” Afia offers an olive branch. “Plus, really, it’s no one’s business except you and him.”

“True,” Mickie makes a face. “But, we’re also nosy.” 

“Not your uterus,” Rhea chimes, lifting her drink. “Not your business.”

Solana smiles. Though Rhea, and even Stephanie, are new additions to the group, they blend seamlessly. And, to Rhea, Solana owes so much. She was a part of the team that helped rescue her. She didn’t have to. She didn’t even know Solana, but she did, and for that, Solana is immensely grateful.

Stephanie nods, looking over at the other woman. “I like her.” 

Bayley chuckles. “Of course, you do.” She looks down at Sana who continues to play on her tablet, comfortable and oblivious. “But, they are right. You can tell us when you’re ready, prima. Or, ya know, at the baby shower.”

At that, Solana frowns a bit. “Baby shower?”

Afia looks over at her sister-in-law. “You didn’t think we weren’t going to throw you a baby shower for your first pregnancy, did you?”

Solana opens her mouth only to close it before admitting. “I guess….I didn’t think about it.” She truly hadn’t. With everything that’s happened the past few months, it never even occurred to her that that is also something that should happen. “But, you guys really don’t have to—”

“Too late,” Melina speaks up, sharing. “We already put down the deposit on the venue this past Monday.” 

Solana continues to be taken back. “That quickly?” Part of her surprise is also at the fact that despite only knowing about her still being alive for a matter of days, the group has fallen right back into their sense of normalcy. 

It’s appreciated. 

More than they could ever know.

“But, don’t bring Roman,” Ava adds, nose turned up in disgust. “Leave his ass here.” 

Rhea looks confused. “Isn’t he the father?”

Stephanie also speaks up, just as confused. “And her husband?”

Ava, however, shrugs. “And?” She quickly provides what Solana can consider to be a valid point. “He hates people and social interactions anyway.”

They’re not entirely wrong, and Solana had only briefly discussed a baby shower with her husband, but that was before. Before…..everything.

She’s not too sure where he would stand on it now, though a part of her wonders if it being planned for them (her) would change anything. 

“He agreed to this.” Cam offers another valid point. 

“Yeah, because she probably promised to sit on his face once we all leave.”

“Mickie!”

Melina pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear to God, they should have never taken you off that damn Lithium.” 

Solana shakes her head right as another subject change commences. “You girls are all way too focused on the wrong things.” Afia once again looks over at her sister-in-law. “Are we just not going to discuss that gorgeous ring on her finger?”

Solana is blushing once more, looking at her….engagement ring? Wedding ring? She’s not sure just what to call it considering she’s already legally married. She just knows that Afia is 100% correct.

It’s gorgeous.

“Do you have any idea how rare and expensive pink diamonds are?” Bayley asks, her question more rhetorical than anything. “That man may hate everyone else, but he certainly loves you.”

Admiring her ring, Solana is immediately taken back to the most unexpected, yet beautiful night of her life. Roman proposing to her. Giving her something she never got to experience. Giving her a choice.

Though that last part feels a bit unnecessary.

In any circumstance, in any life, in any universe, she’ll always choose him. 

Every single time. 

“Clearly,” Rhea chuckles and asks. “Have you two picked a date?”

At that, Solana’s smile deepens. “Valentine’s Day.” 

It’s actually a date, surprisingly enough, he suggested. Roman shared that he’d discussed with Ava and Fetu, before the latter’s passing, proposing to her on Christmas and them having another wedding on Valentine’s Day. The dates primarily being Fetu’s suggestion.

He told her Fetu thought it would be romantic and a way for them both to experience some of the holidays after spending years not doing so.

Solana couldn’t agree more.

Melina’s smile deepens. “Really?” 

Solana nods. “And you’re all invited.” It should be obvious, but in the event it isn’t, she wants to make it clear. “It will be in Isla Mujeres though, so just clear your schedules.”

Because Solana can’t imagine a better place to once again commit herself to her better half than in the place where so many memories have been made. 

And, there’s so many more to come.

—-------

"Wait," Mickie takes another quick gulp of her drink, before looking around the room. "Am I really the only one who's done the math?"

Nearing closer to midnight, the group has all transitioned back to the living room, everyone coupled up, with the exception of the non-couples. The older folks remaining in the separate room, some of the kids laid to bed in some of the guest rooms.

That last part was definitely a hard sell for Solana when she first brought up the idea of a New Year’s Eve party to her husband. The fact that some folks might end up spending the night, due to how late it would be. 

He was….less than pleased.

Melina rolls her eyes from where she sits on Santos lap. "What math, Mickie?"

Solana is partially confused on just how they got on the topic of her pregnancy once more, but she’s at least willing to see where it goes.

Even if something tells her it won’t be….the best. 

Mickie downs the rest of her drink, stumbling over to stand in the middle of the living room. She’s definitely one of the ones who will be sleeping off her hangover shortly after the clock strikes midnight. "Our collective goddaughters are due sometime in May, correct?" A few head nods from the group. "That means they were conceived sometime in August, and guess where we—" She motions to herself, Cam, Melina, and Solana. "—were in August?" 

It’s an answer most know, and for those who don’t, Solana doesn’t really care either way. Because everyone sitting around her has proven their loyalty and ability to be trustworthy. A bittersweet thing, because the absence of Jimmy and Naomi is noticeable. And, she hates it. 

Hates that they’re not there.

Hates where they are right now. 

She can only pray this time next year, things will be different.

Hopefully.

“Wait a minute.” Afia sits up, looking over at Solana. “Did you….” She trails off, clearly not wanting to necessarily give away the specifics given the presence of the latest additions.

If only Dwayne felt the same.

“Yeah, they were fucking while she was away at treatment.”

“Dawyne.” Roman shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Guys.” Solana’s eyes widen in horror. She’s certain her cheeks must be flushed red. 

“A lot, too,” Mickie adds, making a face. “We could hear them.”

“Can we please change the subject?” Solana begs, hand over her face. 

“Or, ya’ll can all just get the hell out of my house.” Roman suggests. He sounds dead serious, too. She sighs loudly. Of course. “That’s an option, too.”

“I mean, sex is a natural thing,” Rhea shrugs, sitting on the loveseat with Stephanie. “Fucking is fun.”

Steve, however, starts coughing a bit. “Christ, Rhea.” He shakes his head, waving his hand. “Have some fuckin’ decency for your old man, kid.”

Hearing such differing accents, Stephanie sits forward, motioning between the two. “How are you two—”

“It’s a long story,” Rhea dismisses. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana would also love to learn that backstory. 

As the clock ticks on, nearing closer and closer, the groups unite, largely due to the true party nature the event takes on. A specifically curated playlist blasting a collective genre of tunes. R&B. Pop. Dance. Spanish. A perfect mixture, boasting some of the best songs, perfect and most fitting for the occasion. 

Happily, the gang mingles and dances, with the exception of a few folks, Roman and Matteo included. 

Though, Solana finds her heart swelling seeing those two interact. She’d briefly spoken with Afia about what she knew of their mother’s unexpected return, and it seemed Matteo was just as tight lipped as his brother.

It’s something, however, the women are not going to let go. They’ll be there for their husbands in any way they need and face whatever their mother re-entering their lives brings about. 

Together.

Solana’s smile is stapled as she dances playfully, sometimes sultry. The latter often earns her being pulled into her husband as he so eloquently reminds her just how she got pregnant in the first place.

But, when the music shifts to one of her favorite Celine Dion tunes, That’s The Way It Is, Solana becomes more aware of the time. It’s only a couple minutes until midnight, and for what feels like the twentieth time tonight, that familiar pressure on her bladder is begging to be tended to.

Solana breaks away, shuffling past her husband, heels long gone at that point. “I have to use the bathroom.”

He frowns. “Again?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not my fault that your daughters are sitting on my bladder.”

He says nothing, just moves his hand to her stomach. Her grin is small. It seems that’s become his favorite hand placement these days.

She leans up and kisses his cheek. “Be right back.”

Solana makes her way to one of the bathrooms on the first floor. 

There's something insanely relieving about removing that weight off her bladder, even if she knows it's bound to return within the hour, maybe two, if she's lucky. Regardless, it grants her some semblance of relief, and she'll take it all.

Solana flushes the toilet and moves over to the sink, squeezing out the strawberry shortcake scented hand soap into her palm. Hitting the knob with her wrist, she garners just enough water to build up a good lather. Washing her hands while humming along to the music that makes it through even the thick door, she turns off the water and reaches for the hand towel on the bar to the right of her.

Briefly, Solana's gaze falls onto herself in the mirror, and she freezes.

Time stands still, it seems, as she takes in her reflection.

Really looks at herself. Seeing herself for the first time in a long time. If ever.

Seeing not scars and flaws or the reflection of someone broken, damaged, unworthy of love and adoration.

She doesn't see that same 10 year-old girl who woke up one morning with hopes and plans for a brand new, brighter future only to wake up in a hospital and find not only was that future forever gone, but the one person who meant the most to her at the time was also gone.

She doesn't see the 12 year-old girl who wasn't even old enough to have had the talk about what sex is but had already been violated in the most unholy of ways, her innocence ripped away from her by pure evil.

She doesn't see the 16 year-old girl who'd grown too exhausted, felt far too heavy to continue to go on, to continue to live. Who'd ultimately made the decision to try to end her own life.

She doesn't see the 28 year-old thrust into an impossible situation, believing her only options were either kill or be killed, the latter of which, seeming more of a relief than anything.

She doesn't even see the 29 year-old woman who just months ago regressed so deeply that she'd once again tried to kill herself, because she felt the damage was too heavy, and life for everyone around her would be easier if she no longer existed.

She doesn't see any of that.

She doesn't feel any of that.

Solana sees a woman. A beautiful, strong, courageous woman who still has her struggles, will always have to battle her vices, but whose good far outweighs the bad. She sees a woman in love with a man who means more to her than words can describe. She sees a wife, a sister, a friend, a cousin.

A mother.

For the first time, Solana sees her.

When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt.

The woman her mother always said she would become.

Don't give up on your faith

Tears build in her eyes as she lifts one hand to her clavicle, ghosting her fingertips over the inked tattoo representing her better half. Her person. Her soulmate.

Love comes to those who believe it

Her other hand settles on her belly, the safe space where her girls grow stronger and bigger with each day that passes, preparing for their grand arrival into the world.

Her eyes shut.

"I did it, mommy," she murmurs, lifting her watery gaze to the ceiling with an emotional smile. "I got my happy ending."

And that's the way it is.

The sound of voices rising from where the bulk of the guests remain remind Solana of the countdown. Sniffling and shaking her head, her smile remains as she goes to open the door, hitting the light switch as she walks out.

A tiny gasp leaves her mouth, a brief pang of tension rising when she's grabbed, only for it to settle at the familiar set of hands grasping and gently spinning her so that she's backed against the wall.

Solana's smile widens as she looks up at her husband. "Hi."

Roman chuckles, as he stands before her, one hand going to cup her cheek, the other on her hip. "Hi."

"Ten!"

"Did I take too long?"

"Nine!"

He makes a sound, gaze softening. "You know I'd wait for you forever."

"Eight!"

Her smile deepens as she reaches up, wrapping her arms around him, her baby bump pressed against his stomach. "Good thing you don't have to."

"Seven!"

His eyes briefly dip to her belly. "Everything good?"

"Six!"

"No," she answers, softly. Naturally, his expression shifts to something close to concern. "It's perfect."

"Five!"

Roman's smile is small but oh-so-telling. He starts to dip his head towards hers when movement between them, felt by both, makes him pause. Naturally, Solana giggles, the two of them looking down.

"Four!"

"I'm telling you, it's Lina." His hand moves to her belly, feeling around to where one of their girls just kicked. She knows it's only one, because she's felt when it's both of them. Big difference. "She's gonna be active just like her daddy."

"Three."

At that, his smile deepens just a bit, his eyes flitting up to hers. "I love you."

"Two."

It doesn't seem to matter just how many times he says it. How many times she hears it. It never gets old.

Solana reaches behind his neck, lowering him so that their lips are only inches apart, his icy breath cool against her face.

"One!"

"I love you, too."

"Happy New Year!"

Fanfare and celebration from down the hall as the husband and wife celebrate privately, lips dancing in that sensual song of promise and oath. A declaration of love, now and forever.

Voy a reír

Voy a bailar

Vivir mi vida

Solana gasps and smiles against his mouth, hearing the familiar lyrics of another of her favorite tunes. "I love this song."

"Baby, you say that about every song."

Solana, rightfully, ignores him, stepping back and taking him by the hand. "Come on."

In true Roman nature, he protests. "I think I like it over here."

Again, he is ignored as she drags him back into the living room where the rest of the attendees celebrate. Old with young. Young with old. The children havinh awoken to bring in the new year with their parents and relatives.

Her abuela pulls her into a hug. Maternal and warm. Kissing her on the cheek and feeling on her stomach. 

Several hugs and various forms of acknowledgement. The affection and joy permeating the space, Solana filled with so much love and appreciation.

Happiness.

She feels happy.

Her smile remains stamped on her face as she moves back over to Roman who leans against the wall, watching her the entire time. Humming to the music, she moves her arms up his chest, swaying against him. 

Roman looks down at her, sensing her joy. “What is he saying?”

She smiles. He’s referring to the lyrics. 

Voy a reír

“I’m gonna laugh,” she translates. 

Voy a gozar, Vivir mi vida

Truer joy, peace, and gratitude have never existed nor been felt than in this moment. Unbreakable and unshakable peace as she shares what she feels and doesn’t plan to deter from ever again. 

Ever.

“I’m going to enjoy living my life.”

-------------

authors note: i sincerely and legitimately can't believe we've reached the end of book 1. i won't bore you all with my rambling. just wanna say thank you immensely to every single person who's read, liked, commented, and/or reblogged this story. it's been such a ride, and i'm so thankful for all the support and everyone who stuck it out with me to get to this point. 🥺

the proposal scene was never included in the original outline, but i've just been so thankful and grateful for all the support you all have shown my little story that i wanted to say thank you. also can't wait for ya'll to see her wedding dress that i've deadass had picked out for months lmao

possibly considering a oneshot/to show their love scene upon solana returning home, as it just didn't make the cut for this already long ass final chapter.

lastly, if you haven't heard already, there will be a sequel, book 2. first chapter should be out in a couple of weeks.

muchas gracias, amigas. ❤️

[ally1uvsu]

Breathe. | Choi su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

Summary; Where Nam-gyu basically has a breakdown inside the bathroom followed by huge dysphoria and the person he least expects talks him through it all.

Info; Gender dysphoria, trans!Nam-gyu, it’s like one of my hcs pls don’t attack me, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of death (avrg squid game behavior), drugs, mentions of blood, idiots in love, kissing, actually js fluff mixed w angst, Nam-gyu w sensory issues if you squint!!, self-harm but without necessarily cutting, suicidal thoughts, bathroom fight shit doesn’t happen for their sake, they’re both emotionally constipated, Thanos just being Thanos honestly, coming out of the closet, unbinding, bruises, cuddling, acceptance, probably ooc but again who cares, just tbh actual tooth rotting comfort for our boy<3

Notes; I think writing became sort of a hyperfixation.. it’s so bad I gen can’t sleep so here you go goobers! Also don’t attack me for the trans nam-gyu hc I js saw that man and I was like; ‘this one’s going to my big hcs list’..

Nam-gyu has been feeling shaken ever since they came back from that stupid mingle game, sure, he was high off his mind just like Thanos was but.. he wasn’t sure why he felt so shaken up. The blood tainted his once pristine white sneakers, making him grimace as he remembered the pools of blood on the floor.

Fidgeting with his anxiety ring, Nam-gyu bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed the bathroom door open. He could still very clearly hear the screams and shouts of the people dying outside, the cries piercing his soul. He cursed under his breath, leaning against the sinks.

It took him a bit to realize his hands were fucking shaking like hell. He brought a hand up to his hair to tug on it, feeling that desperate urge again. But he stopped, instead, he kept his gaze down on the sink as that same hand that was once meant for his hair turned the tap on.

He splashed cold water onto his face, once, twice, thrice. And then with the support of both hands, he looked at himself in the mirror, he still had fucking blood smudged on his face. His stomach churned, the back of his hand wiping the blood away, completely forgetting about the tap, rather, he just let the water keep running.

Nam-gyu couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror, had the drugs seriously worn off that quickly? No, he didn’t think so. Maybe the real problem was him, he hated feeling affected by that stupid fucking game.

But of course he was the problem, it wasn’t a surprise. From a problem to another, as quick as it came, his thoughts began scattering, his hand fidgeting with his ring viciously as he tried to will his body and mind to calm the fuck down.

Again, Nam-gyu looked at himself, really did. And he cringed at the sight, some of his hair was sticking to his face, he looked exhausted, which was no surprise. And then finally, his gaze focused on himself overall, most importantly, his features. He remembered Thanos, hell, he was so.. masculine.

It wasn’t only his personality, but his looks. Compared to how he looks, Nam-gyu looked horribly like a girl, something he despised to be or even think he would ever be. But in this moment, he just knows he looks like a girl.

Nam-gyu cursed under his breath as he ducked his head down, nimble fingers tightening around the sink as he tried to at least regulate his breathing, but he felt sick to his stomach. Not only because of that stupid round but because of himself.

The way he looked made him want to carve himself out, maybe get out of this skin somehow that seemed to trap him in a place where he felt like he was constantly going to lose his fucking mind.

He shivered, fuck, when had he gotten so cold? The feeling wasn’t exactly unwelcome, anything rather than this was.

He swallowed hard, feeling the itch on his skin. He got that whenever he was in moods like this, it’s as if his body knew he wanted to claw himself out of it, it was ironic.

Nam-gyu felt nothing short of pathetic, and yet he began itching his skin. He damned himself for not bringing a small knife with himself, it could have done wonders to what hems feeling right now.

The itching just intensifies, it begins to hurt. But it’s a welcome feeling of pain. His mind drags him to the lifeless corpses he could see through the slit on the door, eyes glazed and blood seeping out of them as the gunfire ceased.

Nam-gyu could feel his vision get blurry, slowly, reverently but surely. He bit down on his lip, the hand that wasn’t viciously scratching his arm as if to try to get himself out was clenched in a fist, his nails, albeit short, dug into his skin.

He was crying again, Nam-gyu hated feeling like this. Hell, he hated everything. He just desperately needed to get out, or maybe all he needed was a bullet in his brain, out there he was nothing and in here he was worse than nothing. Maybe he could steal a pill or two from Thanos to calm his nerves, but it didn’t feel ideal, especially when he became sober so quickly.

His mind felt hazy as he furiously scratched and dug his fingers and clawed at his skin in his arms, he couldn’t see because his eyes were so damn foggy. He couldn’t hear anything since the only thing he could hear was his heart beat thudding strongly in his ears, a sickening reminder he was still alive and would be inside this fuckass body.

He bit his lip to stifle what he guessed was a sob, his hands were shaking again, and Nam-gyu felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. His chest felt heavy, too constricted to suck in too much breath, the exact amount he needed.

He winced as he moved, the pain finally seeping in. He remembered binding tightly before leaving to this place, so.. he probably hasn’t taken this stupid binder in three days straight, oh, Nam-gyu bet this would do a number on this situation.

A quiet sob left his lips as his legs wobbled, doubling over while one hand still held tightly onto the sink, the water still running. His legs felt like jelly as his hand went to his chest, this was pure fucking torture at its finest, even though this was his own fault.

The reason why he’s like this right now is because he isn’t a fucking boy, Nam-gyu gritted his teeth. He would be able to breathe properly if he was a boy, he wouldn’t need to bind his stupid chest if he wasn’t a boy, he wouldn’t need to cry himself to sleep or fight with internal transphobia if he was a boy, Nam-gyu was just playing a boy, he realized. Or maybe it was just his mind speaking.

He only panicked further when he couldn’t breathe properly anymore, he was practically wheezing. And he was alone in the damn bathroom.

But not for long, really. Because Thanos apparently couldn’t leave people fucking alone when they took too long. Thanos, as always walked in carelessly, not noticing the scene at first.

"Hey, Nam-su, you were taking forever, bro. What else could be better than talking to the great Thanos?" But the next moment, Thanos knew something was off. First of all, he didn’t get a reply, and second of all, he could hear quiet sobs.

His gaze darted around until it fell on a familiar bob, Nam-gyu was sunken to his knees, shaking. Visibly crying and wheezing for air, Thanos didn’t know how to react. He was never good at comforting people, and wasn’t the best with making them feel better through words.

And yet, either way, his feet unconsciously moved to Nam-gyu as he crouched down in front of him. The other man seemed too caught up in his panic to notice, so, gently, Thanos reached out very slowly and wrapped his hand around Nam-gyu’s wrist.

The eyes that met his own were all familiar, but also weren’t. Nam-gyu had a huge ego and was a huge goof, but now.. Thanos couldn’t help but frown as he saw the tears clinging to his eyes as they slipped down, collected on his chin and then fell. His gaze was wild, hell, almost even scared. Thanos was definitely sure this was the closest to frightened he’d ever see Nam-gyu get.

"Nam-gyu, hey, hey man look at me." Thanos said as he held the other’s chin, it was almost scary how he was shaking so badly. "You need to take a breather, you look like you might run out of breath." Thanos said, but it didn’t do anything. Goddamn it, Thanos hated not knowing what to do, hated feeling powerless.

"I c-" He heard Nam-gyu choke out, was he trying to say 'I can’t'? Thanos was worried as hell, he couldn’t understand shit while his friend was nearly out of fucking breath.

Nam-gyu’s hand clawed at his chest, as much as he felt scared to come out, which mingled with his whole anxiety, Nam-gyu felt like he was being tortured. And thankfully, Thanos got the hint. "Is it something wrong with your chest?" He asked as he saw how Nam-gyu seemed to try to get something out. So instead of questioning, he shut up and began taking the tracksuit jacket with the other’s number off. Then, his shirt.

Thanos could easily tell Nam-gyu was almost afraid of this, he was hesitant, tense, even. But if this was cutting off his air supply, Thanos would have to get whatever this dude was using or wearing off.

His lips parted in a small 'O' as he caught the sight of a chest binder, but he brushed it off, now wasn’t really the time to be shocked. "You need to get this off before you pass out or some shit." Thanos said, and Nam-gyu just nodded, feeling lightheaded already, sobbing hurt, trying to suck in a breath hurt like a bitch.

He turned around with his back to Thanos as he felt the other unclasp the binder, his hands were too shaky to work something out, and he felt instantly relieved, like a pressure in his chest was gone, but he still couldn’t properly breathe. But before he could ponder on it too much, Thanos was already speaking up.

"Try to match your breathing rhythm to mines, in and out very slowly." He finally said, and Nam-gyu complied. After what felt like five minutes, Nam-gyu finally had managed to breathe. Calming down as he let out a shuddering sigh, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Great, now he had a headache and he felt pathetic.

He had forgotten about his binder, though. He was snapped out of it when Thanos began awkwardly talking; "You uh, really shouldn’t use that thing for too long. It was too tight, dumbass." The words didn’t have his usual bite to it, he seemed almost.. worried, as if he would be, Nam-gyu thought.

"What else would I wear, then, genius?" He snorted, actually caught off guard when he felt his shirt slip back on and the sound of a jacket unzipping. He turned around to see Thanos handing him his jacket, for some reason it was somewhat baggier than his own. Or maybe Thanos was just looking for an excuse for Nam-gyu to wear it. Either way, he was quick to put it on and zip it up. Maybe he was right, plus, Nam-gyu didn't want bruised ribs.. more than they already were. And his chest really wasn’t that hard to hide either way, Nam-gyu was just a bit paranoid over it, and binding felt more safe.

He sat down and leaned against the wall with his head tilted back, he felt exhausted, really. The silence became somewhat awkward with a tinge of comfort. "I’m not going to judge you, you know that, right?"

Nam-gyu paused, finally catching Thanos’ eyes. "You don’t have to lie if you find me a freak, I mean, hell I’d understand if you didn’t want a fake b—" Before the final words of the sentence could even tip off his tongue, Thanos shushed him.

"Do not say that, you hear me?" Thanos scoffed. "To me, you’re still the same crazy junkie who gets me, I’m not about to kick you out." Nam-gyu felt a weird flutter in his chest and maybe more weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

"I don’t see you any differently from how I used to." Thanos added, averting his gaze. "So, you’ll still give me the pills?" Nam-gyu added jokingly, but deep down he was being slightly serious, as much as he relied on Thanos, those pills kept him somewhat more sane to not hurt himself. "You never change, do you? I would call you a drug addict but I’m nowhere better."

Nam-gyu sniffled, ducking his head down as he let out a quiet smile before looking back up again, and then, their faces were a bit closer than he initially thought they were. And Thanos was looking at his lips. And then the next second, he felt his lips on his own.

They were slightly cracked, chapped against his own as he kissed him back, nothing too rough or demanding, it was pretty.. gentle. His lips felt sweet, and he found himself leaning into it, it was weirdly calming. Soothing to his soul in a way he didn’t quite dislike.

And yet, the moment was just ruined by a guard knocking on the door loudly declaring the lights would shut off soon. They both broke away, and Nam-gyu shoved his binder somewhere inside his pocket, ignoring how it appeared like a bundle inside of it and cleaned his face, following right behind Thanos who went in front.

As expected, most players were already in bed by the time they were there back, Nam-gyu really just felt the need to knock the fuck out, it felt like the only thing that would really calm his headache down.

As they walked towards their designed bunks, Nam-gyu held onto Thanos’ pinky finger, letting the other just lead him, really. He didn’t think much of it when Thanos finally lay down and motioned for him to do the same.

Nam-gyu lay next to Thanos with his back pressed to his chest, closing his eyes that were so heavy that he thought he might as well fall asleep standing up. He felt one arms around his waist, and one on his hair, deftly twirling a strand. It was easy to lull him to sleep, he was already pretty much exhausted anyways.

Maybe Thanos wasn’t the worse person in the world, in the end.

I wrote this while half asleep and while I did my biology work, srry for anything. Also I am not transgender so forgive me if I did anything wrong, I didn’t mean to be offensive in any way!! Anyway, enjoy<3

[malereadermaniac]

(⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) You smell good ~ Yoichi x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Plot: Hanging out with Yoichi, and he notices your smell... and then you notice his. (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

Featuring: Top!Yoichi x Bottom!Reader

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI Musk/scent kink, crotch and armpit sniffing, pubic hair, dirty sex

Yoichi and you were paired up for whatever camp work you had to do that day - alone and separated from everyone by quite a distance

It wasn't exactly awkward, but it's not really that easy to strike up a regular conversation with the guy who rearranged your guts like a week ago

Jeez, you don't want to think back on that - not because you didn't like it, but if you ponder on it for too long blood will rush to areas you don't want it to rush to

Luckily, after a couple of minutes of working in silence, Yoichi strikes up a conversation - to him, the situation was anything but awkward, he found some sort of comfort when alone with you

Chatting about your lives, future, and family made the work go a little faster - and you really enjoy talking to the wolf-boy

The conversation even became deep at one point, offering words of comfort and warm smiles as Yoichi talked to you about his days on the streets

As the talk kept going and the workload slowly lessened, you guys almost finished up - you had just gotten stuck on your final step

You were very obviously frustrated and struggling with a stupid wrench - your arms not strong enough to start with, but you were also holding the wrench wrong...

"Oi... need help, softy?" Yoichi says with a lift of his eyebrows and a teasing grin

"No!........... Yeah... Yeah I do, please" You quickly give in, that fucking wrench making you want to cry

Yoichi chuckles in a needlessly attractive way as he walks over to you, sitting next to you - covering your hand with his masculine, veiny one as he takes the wrench with his other hand

A few moments pass by as Yoichi finishes your work up and you notice him inching closer and closer to you - his nose pointing up slightly as if he was actually a fucking dog

"Hey... you smell fucking good" Yoichi says as his head snaps towards you

Sniffing closer and closer to towards you, the wrench dropped on the floor, his sharp face moving against your neck as he smells you

Yoichi really looks like a wolf in this moment, nuzzling at your neck subtly, his body holding onto yours to keep him up as he leans into you, the wolf-boy continuously complimenting your scent and soft skin

"Ah- Thanks? It's just water and y'know soap..." you say, blushing profusely at the muscular man's body almost being on top of yours at this point

"Huh? What the fuck is 'soap'?" Yoichi ask as he moves away from your neck, hand on your shoulder still holding himself up as he looks at you with a cute, confused look

"Y'know... soap?? Like the bar or gel that you have to use to actually clean yourself?" You question, a worried look on your face as the confused look on Yoichi's simply increases

"Wait a minute..." you mumble, holding onto Yoichi's camp shirt to move yourself closer to you

You move your nose against him and smell

"Fuck!- DAMN YOU STINK, YOICHI!" You shout as you dart back from the scruffy man's body - lying on the ground with your arms supporting you from behind

A strong and thick scent of sweat and manly musk was what flooded your nostrils, almost making you feel light-headed

"Oi! It's the smell of a real man - what would you know? Fuckin' pansy~" Yoichi says with a cocky grin as he flexes his muscles above you - his armpits evidently damp with his dark purple armpit hair poking out

You roll your eyes as you sit up from the ground, but rolling your eyes couldn't hide the very obvious boner that you didn't notice you had...

"HOLY SHIT DUDE HAHAHAHA!" Yoichi bursts into laughter as he points at the tent in your camp shorts - you blushing profusely as you move your hands to cover the situation

"See, baby, even you can't deny how the smell of a real, sex-machine of a man affects you!" Yoichi says with a cocky smirk, crouching down to your level as his legs spread in a slutty way, showing off his built thighs

"Now let's deal with your little problem... and also the huuuge~ problem you've caused me with that cute look on yer face" Yoichi teases you, gesturing to his hardening cock between his sweaty thighs

"NOW?! Anyone could see us! Are you crazy, Wolf-boy?!" You say with shock on your face, but Yoichi just chuckles

"Don't worry your pretty little head, no one even comes round here. Plus we're hidden behind a cabin~" he mumbles in your ear coyly as the buff man pushes you against the cabin wall and crawls on top of you

'He's one to call my head little...' you think to yourself as Yoichi undresses above you, his godly fucking muscles flexing as he takes his Camp shirt off

In this close proximity, Yoichi's scent is all that you can smell, his musk making your dick twitch - along with the sight of Yoichi's built arms and bushy armpits

The manly scout licks his teeth and sticks his tongue out with an open-mouth smirk - "Heh heh~ you just can get enough of me, can you? Fuckin slut"

Your mind is basically turning to mush at this point from the man's smell, his killer body, and most of your blood going to your cock and not your brain; so you just nod in agreement at Yoichi's degrading remark, making the cocky man chuckle some more

Your shirt is thrown aside along with Yoichi's, his hands around your throat and waist as he brings his wet lips to yours - his tongue immediately dominating yours into a wet and fierce kiss

You moan into the brutish man's mouth, pathetically attempting to grind your dick against his

After getting his fill of your lips, Yoichi moves down your neck and past your collarbone to your nipples - attacking your sensitive buds with his teeth and tongue as you whimper and moan his name, egging the purple-haired man on

Once your nipples are puffy and red, bite marks creating a perfect border around each bud, Yoichi wipes the spit off of his chin with his thumb in one swipe and looks down at you with incredibly horny eyes

"Your turn now, clean me up~ You're the one who said i needed a bath, fuckin' priss" in saying that, Yoichi flexes an arm behind his head and used his other to filter his fingers through your hair, pushing your head into his intoxicatingly musky armpit

You were shocked for about 2 seconds until you let Yoichi's manly smell envelope you - his incredibly bushy pits, wet and dark in colour, filling your nostrils to the brim

"Hahahaha! Knew you'd fuckin' love it, lick 'em clean, [Nickname]!" Yoichi laughs from above you, and you obey his command - your brain turning into goo from the wolf-boys scent

You immediately start to lap at Yoichi's hairy, sweaty pits - the salty yet enjoyable taste on your tongue turning you on even further

Yoichi smirks at the feeling of you desperately grinding your still-clothed crotch against his thigh, but he sadistically ignores your wordless pleas for friction

The dominant, muscular man getting even more turned on by the horny, dazed, even hypnotised look in your eyes as you mouth at his armpit

The salty taste long faded away, Yoichi's armpit was now very wet with your spit

"Fuck you really loved that didn't ya? How bout you get to the main course though, pretty boy?" Yoichi says with a horny grin, the nickname he only calls you when he wants you turning you on an inexplicably lot

With that, you sadly parted from the man's now clean, hairy armpit and rearranged your body in turn with Yoichi

You gently pushed the masculine male back onto his ass, his muscular, sweaty legs spread to make just enough room for your head

You get on all-fours and crawl closer to Yoichi's crotch - making his dick twitch and even giving him an idea for future role-playing

As Yoichi takes his shorts off while trying to hide his excitement, you nuzzle your head against his thighs - actually starting to get high from Yoichi's musky, sweaty scent

Finally, Yoichi was left in only his signature, stary purple, incredibly loose boxers

You dart your head towards his clothed crotch instantly - making Yoichi chuckle at your actions while watching you intensely

Everything you did made Yocihi like you more and more, you were just so fucking hot and cute in the way you were sorta clueless yet doing your best

You start to smell Yoichi through his loose boxers, pushes your nose against his crotch as you inhale the scent of not only his incredibly sweaty and definitely unwashed boxers but also the smell of his sweaty, reeking cock and balls

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your face floods with a blush, turning and making Yoichi's dick twitch at the sight as he lets out a passing comment and a groan

You push your nose deeper into the man's crotch, inhaling his intoxicating scent and starting to lap at his balls through his baggy boxers

As you soaked Yoichi's already musk-drenched and partially cum-stained boxers, the muscular man above you began to get impatient and desperate for you

"C'mon pretty boy... get yer fill and lemme fuck you already~" Yoichi groans from the limited simulation of your tongue on his clothed cock

You chuckle at his remark while visibly dazed, but comply with the dominant man - running a hand up his crotch and slipping two fingers under his waistband

You pull his waistband and hook it under Yoichi's saggy, heavy balls, keeping his underwear down

His massive, thick cock springs out, resting on your face as his scent thickens x100

His veins are prominent and lead all the way down to his base, which is absolutely covered by bushy, dark-purple pubes that reek of Yoichi's manly musk

You don't suck the man off, instead opting to smell him even more while barely giving him a few kitten licks from time to time

In situations like this, you liked to threaten Yoichi's dominance just a little - and you could tell it turned the masculine man on

Fuck was his stink so fucking good, intoxicating, you can feel yourself getting drunk off of Yoichi's scent as you wrap a soft hand around his fucking thick cock and move it to the side to stuff your nose with his damp pubes

Yoichi groans at your touch and at your licks, your tongue gently grazing the man's veins and very rarely touching his tip and foreskin

By the time you'd gotten your fill of the muscular man's smell, Yoichi was already twitching violently, his mouth slightly agape as he drooled from his need for further stimulation

"Haha... c'mon, Bigboy! Where's that dominant attitude from before, huh?" You tease Yoichi, getting up from his crotch and sitting on his lap, grinding your ass against his cock

Yoichi snaps out of his daze with a 'tsk' and a deep, short chuckle - his strong, rough, veiny hands moving to grip your waist as his hips grind up into you

Yoichi holds himself up against the back of the cabin, which is actively hiding you both, allowing his hips to slightly lift up off the ground to rut against you even more

He sits up and hugs you, his muscular arms around your waist as his hands fix on your cheeks

Yoichi spreads your ass and lines his cock up with your hole, his head on your shoulder looking over to make sure he can line his cock up to your hole exactly

The warmth of his body gave you comfort, his muscles against your skin turning you on a lot as his hands on your ass made you even hornier

With his sweaty body against yours, and muscular arms holding you in place, Yoichi kisses your shoulder and starts to enter you

Your hands move to the man's built back, holding onto Yoichi as you let out a pleasured yet slightly pained moan - he stretched you out briefly as you got drunk off his cock but it still hurt

Yoichi moans against your neck as he gently bites it, moaning and groaning in pure pleasure as he buries his dick all the way inside of you

Yoichi, being quite the gentleman, gives you time to adjust to his fucking thick, big dick - his head moving off your shoulder to kiss you passionately, his hands moving to your waist and your cheek as he kisses you with passion and with what he denies is love

Your tongue plays with Yoichi's as you adjust to his size, and once that happens, you subconsciously start to grind your hips against Yoichi - making the wolfboy smirk against your lips

Yoichi starts to move you up and down on his dick, his hips also working to fuck into you

All pain having evaporated, you get overwhelmed with pleasure from the stretch and from Yoichi's massive fucking cock punching your prostate at every thrust

Your nails dig into the man's muscular back, dragging pinkish scratch marks down Yoichi's back as you moan his name and whimper into his ear like some sorta pornstar

Yoichi bites and kisses your neck, moaning as he sets a fast and rough pace with his hips, his hand gripping your waist hard, manoeuvring you up and down on his cock

Your dick rubs against Yoichi's hard abs, giving you the friction you need to approach your climax

The purple-haired man is also getting closer by the second, your previous teasing of his cock making him last less than he did last time

Yoichi's body is drenched in his sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead sexily and your skin sticking to his

Yoichi moves an arm around your neck, pulling you away from his body to look at him and then pushing you against his muscular chest and smashing your face into the hairy crease of his armpit

Yoichi's musk is what sends you over the edge, along with his horny laugh and the feeling of him punching your prostate with his huge cock

You moan into Yoichi's body and grip him tightly, his arm slightly suffocating you from his strength and literal surface area due to his muscles

Yoichi, still going strong for as long as he can, keeps fucking into you throughout your orgasm, making you twitch and moan his name like a whore

Your ass clamps down on Yoichi after you come down from your earth-shaking orgasm - your warm, gummy walls tightening around Yoichi like a vice

Finally, the string Yoichi was holding onto snaps, his grip on you tightening as he hugs your body into his as tightly as he possibly could - his thrusts not stopping as he fucks you through his orgasm, practically overstimulating himself

You start to get lightheaded from Yoichi's tight 'hug', mixed with his manly, thick musk sends you over the edge a second time, your dick spurting out a second, weaker load as Yoichi fills your insides with his thick, manly cum

Panting and weak groans/moans are all that can be heard for a solid couple of minutes once you two come down, that life-changing sex having taken it out of you both

Once you've both recovered, Yoichi gently pulls out of you and holds you up as he removes himself from your pretzel-like situation

"You all good, softy?" Yoichi asks, crouching before you with his hand holding your chin up to his face

"Heh... yeah, just a little dizzy" you mumble, pecking Yoichi on the lips

As the two of you clean up and dress back into your camp uniform, Yoichi chuckles to himself

"Still got complaints about my smell, pretty boy?" Yoichi says smugly, eyeing you up with a grin

"Yeah, yeah, whatever... I still expect you to shower." You chuckle but then deadpan by the end, making Yoichi laugh to himself - his thoughts currently only on one topic; you

[tealvenetianmask]

Moxxie and His Weapons Grade Daddy Issues (Part 1)

I keep saying it, and now I'm going to explain what I mean. It's worse than it seems. Really. Blitz and Stolas get most of the attention for being our favorite disaster men™, but Moxxie's underlying issues are just as bad. And eventually shit is going to hit the fan.

Disclaimer: I love Moxxie and M&M, and Moxxie and Blitz as friends. I'm about to shit on how Moxxie is overly dependent on these relationships. And this is not a "they should ditch him" situation. It's more- the guy needs to understand his own worth and do some serious growing.

Prologue: Crimson is the worst, obviously.

He taught Moxxie two main lessons.

You have to be stereotypically masculine. Everything it entails. Tough, good at violence, straight. That's the only way to have value. Oh, and the reason this all doesn't come naturally to you is because you're a weakling.

2. Be loyal or be killed. Fucking literally.

Moxxie found a new life, but the lessons from his dad stuck with him.

He didn't internalize EVERYTHING his dad taught him about masculinity. He's open about being bi, and about liking musicals and baking and generally being a sweet guy. I think it's been really helpful for Millie to show time and time again that she loves him this way.

BUT I think his self-acceptance has a side that masks his serious lack of confidence. Is it great that Millie can be "the strong one" in the relationship and they can defy gender stereotypes? Yes. It's ALSO really worrying that he doesn't believe he's strong himself- he deserves to feel strong too, and not as a "tough guy-" as himself.

We see Millie and Blitz save Moxxie a bunch, and the times when he's given a chance to prove himself (see Murder Family, The Harvest Moon Festival, and Unhappy Campers), the guy completely freaks out. I'm not using a screenshot from the fucking penguin short (because I'm still salty) but there's even a moment in there where Moxxie has the chance to take the kill shot on the seal, and even though he DOES pull it off, he looks really scared beforehand . . .

Moxxie WANTS to prove that he's strong and competent, but the issue is so weighty for him that the moment he tries, his brain goes haywire. Over and over again.

2. He got himself out from under Crimson's thumb, and even learned to stand up the guy a bit. I think it's really telling that the moment he first trusted Blitz to lead him was when Blitz told him he had to get out of jail for his daughter.

Moxxie has learned that he wants something different from what he grew up with. It's also worth noting that Moxxie feels comfortable arguing with Blitz, criticizing him, and talking back, in a way couldn't have gotten away with when following Crimson.

And the "strong" woman he married, who protects him? She's a total sweetheart, and they have fun together all the time. She doesn't tell him what to do. She supports him pretty much unconditionally, as we see in Unhappy Campers.

BUT here's the problem. Moxxie's thinking is still kind of authoritarian, in that he seems most comfortable when someone else is in charge.

He calls Blitz "Sir." And yeah, it's sort of iconic at this point. It was pretty much the only thing he called Blitz, until--

I think that Moxxie really liked the idea of Blitz asking him to use his name. He wants to be on even ground and have a real friendship. But he DOES keep saying "Sir." Not exclusively anymore (people make a big deal of him saying "Blitz" in the van in Mastermind), and this isn't a full tally, but...

It's pretty obvious who else was Sir . . .

Moxxie was raised to follow, under threat of death. I think it makes sense that someone with that experience would have kind of contradictory feelings toward their boss...

Moxxie WANTS to challenge authority. He WANTS to offer input on missions. He WANTS Blitz to see him as a friend and an equal, but at the same time, whenever Blitz is unable to lead. Well.

A shallow reading of any Moxxie-centric episode has Moxxie fixing his problems. I've seen multiple reaction youtubers getting confused when he still struggles in subsequent episodes- didn't he just get over that? But the realizations he comes to really are baby steps. He practices his skills for building independence and confidence but doesn't quite get there . . . he's saved either physically or emotionally by Millie or Blitz (even Loona in Ghostfuckers, though that's more of a joke). And then the underlying problems remain.

I want to get deeper into the M&M dynamic and what this all might mean for the pregnancy plotline and their relationship going forward in another post. But for now, I guess I'll conclude by saying that there's some problem avoidance happening, which gives fans a false sense of security, and Moxxie's mental health situation might get worse before it can truly get better.

Update: Part 2 is here.

[magnoliarabbit]

Protectiveness and Possessiveness in Invincible

I think Invincible did a lot to establish a core issue of Mark’s character in Season 3 — particularly how his protective instincts, while they come from pure intentions and are seen as a good masculine trait to have, can manifest in unhealthy ways.

At their core, these tendencies stem from a place of care. After what Nolan did Mark is left as the protector of his family. He steps up by offering to drop out of college to help raise Oliver, he support Debbie through her grief, he keeps them safe from people like Angstrom Levy.

Yet, when it comes to Eve, his protectiveness takes a turn, blurring a thin line from protectiveness to possessiveness.

From the beginning, Mark’s relationship with Eve brings out his irrational side. During the Flaxan invasion, he reacts aggressively and drops everything to save her. In the Season 1 finale, he insists on following her to "keep her safe," and later, he refuses to leave her hospital room—even when Cecil explicitly tells him Eve wouldn’t want him there.

His instinct isn’t to fight alongside her but to shield her from danger entirely, whether it’s against the alternate Invincible variants or Conquest. The irony is that Mark needs Eve’s help just as much as she needs his. Without her and Oliver’s intervention, he wouldn’t have survived Conquest. But he still has those expectations of himself to be the protector simply because he’s supposed to be earth strongest hero (another fun discussion to have another time about men being expected to be strong no matter what!)

The real issue is that his protectiveness morphs into entitlement over Eve. Him staying at the hospital or following to keep her safe? Eve doesn’t welcome that level of coddling. This obsession with her and that possessiveness over her is also shown within how the alternate Marks treat Eve.

The Season 2 Episode 1 Variant Invincible feels so entitled to Eve that he paralyzes her to make her stay with him forever. He does this all while thinking he's protecting her; if he paralyzes her, then she won't fight back and he and Nolan won't need to hurt her.

Another Mark variant is searching for women who embody Eve to fill a void inside him; again, obsession and entitlement. (Comic readers know what I mean)

Even Omni-Mark harbors an unexplained hatred toward her (likely over rejection, because let’s be honest—nobody wants that guy. Or because she was a thorn in his side while conquering earth. Idk if anything was ever revealed about him).

The Mark variants show extremes of how much his flaws could corrupt him.

Our Mark isn’t innocent either. During the hospital visit Cecil’s warns him that Eve would disapprove of him putting her first. He’s overstepping just like in Season 1.

Symbolically, it makes sense for him to be so fixated on shielding her: Eve is coded as unapologetically feminine, while the Viltrumites embody toxic masculinity at its worst. Mark wants to defend her from that brutality, especially after seeing how easily Viltrumite strength can overpower her. But Eve has been a hero longer than Mark and understands the job’s risks and prioritizes saving others over her own safety. She’s feminine, that’s why she cares about helping others outside of fighting. That’s why she doesn’t want to be protected. By putting her above the mission, Mark disregards her agency—something she’s called him out for before in Season 1.

FYI, the show amplifies these flaws compared to the comics. Cecil doesn’t mention Eve would be upset with Mark over the hospital thing, so the show highlights Eve’s frustration over being coddled so much more than the comics.

Season 3 and those Mark being protective scenes in Season 1 finale felt like a set up to me. I really do believe we’re going to be tackling Mark’s possessiveness issue soon. We do discuss his obsessions over fighting to keep his people safe to an unhealthy degree in the comics but Season 3 feels like it’s kicking it up a notch and planting the seeds for something similar happening much earlier.

Mark’s heart is in the right place, but he needs to learn to respect Eve’s autonomy and that he needs her just as much as she needs him. We see what letting that unhealthy possessiveness can do to him. And again, I do think this is foreshadowing for Eve being very unhappy with Mark soon when she finds out about the hospital thing. I hope she will be, because they need to bounce back from the mid writing on Eve in Season 3.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There’s a strange phenomenon occurring with the terminally online right. Ever since Vice President Kamala Harris announced that Gov. Tim Walz would be her running mate, many of the right have acted with fury. They’ve attempted to “Swift Boat” his 24-year service record in the Army National Guard. They’ve called him a racist for talking about “white guy tacos.” And they’ve dredged up a nearly 30-year old DUI—for which he took accountability and after which he stopped drinking altogether—to prove he’s somehow not so perfect a role model.

What they haven’t been able to do is make any of this stick. And yet, Walz continues to draw fire, which could otherwise have been directed at Harris. In other words, Walz is turning out to be a shrewd pick. At net 11 points positive favorability in polls, Walz is immensely more popular than his counterpart on the GOP ticket, JD Vance, who is underwater by nine. And as they continue to rail against him, the right keeps making his fundamental point about them: They are just really weird. In today’s piece, I explore some theories about why Walz brings out the worst impulses of the right just by being who he is. Then I’ll lay down some political tarot cards and prognosticate about where I think this leads.

Politico Uno Reverse

By most identity measures, Walz should be one of the MAGA right. He’s a midwestern white dude in his late 50s. He loves to hunt and is a sharpshooter. He served for decades in the military and achieved the highest enlisted rank of Command Sergeant Major. He was a football coach who helped lead his team to the state championship. And yet, despite all these identity markings, Walz in an unabashed progressive. He is for reproductive rights and an ally and protector of gay teens. And there isn’t a bigoted bone in his body. It’s as if when Harris picked him, she played, as writer Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman succinctly described it, a “political uno reverse.” The Walz card threw it right back at them, as if to say, “I’m a guy just like you, but without any of the weird baggage.” The MAGA GOP’s base is supposed to include white guys like Walz. But here is living evidence that they don’t have all of them or the best of them. That’s why they’re so eager to discredit him, because if they don’t, as psychologist Julie Hotard notes, then Walz will stand instead as a model of what is possible. On many levels, an appealing, white, male Democrat is a far bigger threat to their sense of identity than even a biracial woman candidate for president.

[...]

Attacking Mr. Nice Guy

For the past two decades, the GOP has shifted markedly toward being a party of cruelty, of “owning” the libs and drinking their tears, and of being as unpleasant and in-your-face as they can be. That kind of behavior has been rewarded with appearances on Fox and other right wing media, fundraising dollars from the MAGA base, and a spot at the side or in the tweets of the ex-president himself. As author Patrick S. Tomlinson observed, Walz represents what shouldn’t be an extraordinary notion: that you can be a nice guy, supportive of women, embracing of gay people, and still be all the coded masculine ideals of soldier, football coach, hunter and father that the MAGA right believed it had a lock on. Plus, you can be all those things without ever asking weird questions about menstrual cycles, chromosomes and genitalia. The right even tried to make a big deal about Walz’s efforts as governor to ensure free tampons were available to girls in school. Rumors circulated that schools had been required to also put tampons in boys’ bathrooms, but those claims turned out to be untrue, while demonstrating how off kilter the right becomes over sexuality and gender. The “Tampon Tim” moniker didn’t stick. On the contrary, there are probably many moms and dads grateful for a governor like Walz who is thinking about their daughters’ needs.

Jay Kuo explains the real reason why the right is being driven crazy by Tim Walz: The fact that he has a profile that would typify a MAGA voter (football coach, military service, loves to hunt) yet is a progressive white dude (solid LGBTQ+ rights ally before it became fashionable among Democrats).

[gamora-borealis]

dan isn’t trans though lmao

dan hasn't said he's trans but he has said he uses any pronouns and his gender is "actually just a formless blob that is okay with being perceived as a guy" so like. trans/nonbinary adjacent... gnc even. like the way Dan describes gender is also how I describe my gender and I'm nonbinary, this is really all just a matter of language since gender is a construct and you don't have to like, actually physically transition to identify as a gender that you weren't assigned at birth. like maybe dan would identify as nonbinary if he was like my age and it was more widely used when he was younger. maybe not idk. some trans phannies who actually have transitioned say that the way dan talks about gender reminds them a lot of they talked about gender before they came out. I'm not claiming dan is actually secretly wanting to transition but like. that could be the case we don't actually know. I'm not claiming to know details Dan hasn't already revealed or anything, like dan has been talking a lot about gender lately in random settings and still uses the term "formless blob" to identify himself currently. He even said in the WAD live that part of the reason he sticks to a more masculine gender presentation (which he isn't even as masc as he could be tbh) might be because of him dealing with being bullied for being effeminate when he was younger. I'm more so just like, Phil has made it clear that he would be supportive of Dan being a different gender. Which that doesn't even have to do with what gender Dan actually is.

but all that's to say some people get kinda weird when you say stuff like "hey I'm trans and I think Dan could possibly be too" which I don't really understand why that makes people uncomfortable if we aren't like, in Dan's face about it? that's why I put it under a readmore and prefaced it with me being "demon" about it. like it's not even that demon of a thing to suggest lol as compared to like, demon phannie discussion about the vday video or something (which I'm not necessarily wholly against but definitely something to keep away from dnp at the very least).

[ellisgirl]

Ellis Twilight — I Want to Know Every Inch of You Collection Event

Seperate Bodies 🔞 tw: suggestive, NSFW

I do not own any contents of Ikemen Villains. This story being uploaded in this blog belongs solely to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading their games and buying their stories. Both English and Japanese are not my mother tongue languages, please keep in mind that there will be mistakes and added words for my own preferences. I translate for my personal entertainment and for my own practice only.

Victor asked me to take the Crown's physical measurements for the purpose of health management and research—

I visited Ellis, who was easy to ask first, and it turned out to be the right decision.

Thanks to his great cooperation, the measurements proceeded very quickly.

Kate: “Thank you for your cooperation, Ellis. This concludes the measurement of your upper body."

Ellis: "That's good. By the way, Miss Kate, there's something I was curious about......"

Ellis: "Can you lend me a hand?"

Kate: "......? Yes, sure."

I held out my hand, wondering what he was going to do, and Ellis's hand came to rest on mine—

My hand was guided and touched his chest, which was bare…..for measurement.

I feel his moist skin all over my palm.

Ellis: ".….If you're interested in my body, you can touch it."

Kate: "Eh!? Uh, how.….”

Ellis: “Because I felt like I could feel your eyes piercing through me while you were measuring for my chest. ……Was it my misunderstanding?"

Kate: "You misunderstood..., there was nothing.”

Ellis looks slender when he's dressed, but when he takes his clothes off, he has an unexpectedly masculine body.

Although the measurements are taken seriously, I couldn't help but admire his thick chest and his well-defined abdominal muscles.

(I thought I was keeping a level head, but he knew.... How embarrassing……)

Ellis: “As much as you like, Miss Kate, go ahead.”

Kate: "E-Even if you ask me to go ahead….."

Even if I'm interested in touching another person's body, especially a man's body, my reservation and embarrassment will prevail.

(I know you're saying this for me, Ellis, but....I'll say no.)

I tried to take his hand away, saying It was fine if I didn’t touch him.

However, Ellis is holding my hand tighter than I imagined, and I can't get away from him even a little.

Ellis: "You don't have to hold back on me, so feel free to check with your hands."

You noticed I tried to take my hand away, your hands are literally so strong.

(If you've told me this much, it's not right to say no.….isn't it?)

(If I reject him excessively, then it seems like I'm being weirdly conscious of Ellis.....)

Deciding to accept the kindness, I slid my hand over his skin.

Kate: "....Muscles are softer than I thought. I thought it was harder."

Ellis: “When you're relaxed, yes. When you're exerting yourself, though, it gets harder......"

Kate: "Wow, that's amazing...!”

(Still, I think people are reluctant to have their skin touched...)

(Is Ellis used to being touched by other people…..?)

Even though the fun seems to rise, my heart is in turmoil at the defencelessness of Ellis, who let me touch him without any odd hesitation.

Ellis: "What's wrong?"

Kate: “Well......I was wondering if you do this to anyone who asks you to.”

Regret comes immediately after speaking out.

I knew Ellis was kind to everyone, but I speak as if I’m blaming him.

Ellis: “…..Don't worry, I didn't do anything that you would be worried about.”

The reply was ambiguous, as if it were an answer, but it wasn't.

I also notice a strange pause before the reply.

(What are the things that worry me? Have you ever let some else touches you, if only a little?…..)

Ellis's trivial words and actions have stuck with me, and I don't feel refreshed, as if a lees has settled in my mind.

(There's no reason to feel like this, but why am I.….)

Ellis: “If it still bothers you... Do you want to try touching somewhere else?”

Ellis: "....I really haven't shown this place to anyone, I haven't let anyone touch it."

Ellis: "Only for Miss Kate, special"

Kate: “Eh….”

Ellis pulled my hand again.

The hand that was touching his chest went down through his stomach.....and stop at his waist.

Kate: “….Ellis?”

Ellis: “No one touches it from here down, so go ahead.”

What Ellis is showing is below the bottoms... his lower body.

Kate: "Ah, uh..... This is not usually a place to let people touch, is it?"

Ellis: “What would you like to do, Miss Kate?”

Ellis: "Rather than normal or common sense, I want to do what you want to do."

Ellis: "I've been thinking about how to make you happy."

Even if that feeling of Ellis is one that is poured out without division to all.

I was the only one in his eyes right now.

Kate: "I, am......"

(......If there is a place on Ellis's body where only I am allowed, I want to touch it.)

The sweet sound of "special" made me forget to reply and my throat started to throb.

Ellis: ".....You can do whatever you want."

I finally gave a small nod as my gentle forgiveness.

Ellis: “Shall we proceed slowly? Let's start with........to the first joint of your finger."

Is Ellis pulling my hand, or am I proceeding with my own will? I don't know anymore.

My fingertips slip under his bottoms without any sense of reality, as if I were in a dream.

Ellis: "Second joint........”

Kate: “Ah.”

My advanced fingertips feel the rough texture of the skin. It's hot and humid inside.

Ellis: “Hmm. …..fufu, I’ve gone all the way in to the base of your fingers, haven't I?"

Ellis smiled like a child whose prank had succeeded.

Contrary to that innocence, I felt like I was doing something I shouldn’t...., I was scared.

Kate: "Uh, I guess..."

I came to my senses and pulled out my fingertips, grazing the deep part of him.

Ellis: “Nn…gh”

(……!)

Ellis: “Sorry..... I was so ticklish, I made a weird noise."

Kate: “N-no, it’s not….”

Ellis's sweet voice, which leaked a little, remains in my ears.

(The fact that I'm the only one who can touch Ellis here...)

(And that lovely voice I just heard, is that just for me?)

The thought of it is irresistibly lovely and makes me want to touch and listen to it again.

(But, as expected, no more...)

Ellis: "....More touches if you like, Miss Kate."

Taking my hesitant hand again, Ellis let me touch it through the bottoms.

Kate: “……Uh”

I gasped as I felt something passionately insisting on the area I touched.

Ellis: "This is what happened, so...I would like you to lend me a hand."

Kate: "B-but...I already had taken your body measurements.….”

I finally remember my job and give my opinion with a voice that seems to disappear.

Ellis: "Well then..... Do you want to check here with your hands? If it's a measurement, then there's no problem."

Kate: "...............I got it."

(It's just an extra of his body measurements, just to make sure......)

Like a butterfly lured by sweet nectar, I slipped my hand there again.

Ellis: “Ah... Haa….."

As I stroke him slowly while watching him, Ellis lets out a hot exhale of aggravation.

Ellis: “Miss, Kate…..”

(.....I'm weird. I can't take my eyes off him.)

He is so lovely, so cute, so disturbed by my hand that I want to see more of him.

Driven by the impulse, I moved my fingers with a strong and weak pressure so that Ellis could feel good.

Ellis: “……Nngh”

Kate: “Here…..is it?”

Ellis: "Nnm..... There, it feels good...."

His hips swayed loosely as he rubbed against my hand.

I was happy to know that I wasn't the only one who wanted to be touched.

(.....I want you to feel even better with my hand.)

At first, it was only my fingertips, but gradually I used the whole palm of my hand to wrap it up and continued to stimulate it.

Ellis: “……Nngh!”

Kate: "I-I'm sorry. Did I push too hard...?"

Ellis: “No... I'm fine. I just felt so good I was about to lose it."

Ellis: “You can touch me however you like. ....I'll make my place exclusive to you, Miss Kate."

(I, exclusive….)

The haze in my mind that I felt when I thought Ellis might have let someone else touched him cleared up.

(I see….. I wanted to monopolise you.)

(I didn't want anyone else to touch or see Ellis...that's what I thought)

If you know your feelings, there is only one thing to do.

As time permits, I continued to touch where only I was allowed and stare at Ellis, who exhaled shallowly.

Fin.

Masterlist

———————————

tagging+* @yonaaaahowell

[scretladyspider]

An interesting effect of purity culture is how often allos don’t have any problem understanding that romantic attraction and sexual attraction don’t have to be dependent on the other to exist, until you’re demisexual, and then suddenly “everyone is demisexual”.

Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in which a person doesn’t experience sexual attraction unless under the circumstances of a close bond, and even then it’s not guaranteed to happen. The assumption culturally is that this bond is always romantic, but it varies from demi to demi.

I cannot begin to count how many conversations I’ve had where an allo has told me “I’d bone that” with it being made clear there’s no romantic attraction there. it’s just understood. But if I’m demisexual, and I say I don’t feel sexual attraction without a bond, that confuses them.

In my case, there’s a lot of sexism going on. People assume I’m a cis woman when I’m agender/nonbinary. Purity culture, which has gone far beyond the church, teaches that I’m not supposed to really want sex- that would make me a “bad girl”, a “slut”. It also punishes me if I don’t want it.

There’s an idea of ownership over the feminine body in any conversation about sexual orientation and attraction. It is ever present, dictating who is and isn’t allowed to seek orgasm, who should have sex as a duty, who should give up her body to others rather than pursuing what pleasures her. On the other side of this is the idea that cis men and masculine persons can easily separate themselves from any emotions surrounding sex. That they can view the act objectively, serving a purpose for survival, the same way that eating a meal helps keep the body going. For him, the act of sex is presented as a need, a hunger that, if not satiated, he may starve. For her, eating this same meal is indulgent, decadent, gluttonous, a sin from which the body is forever tainted. And yet, she is still expected to serve herself up, ready to be swallowed whole.

Neither side is true. The masculine person may not want to partake, may not see it as a need for survival. The feminine body is not simply made to starve and consume; she may have a ravenous appetite for it, expectation be damned.

The long and short of this is if you can conceive of sex being separate from romantic attraction, as this neutral thing that can exist all by itself, it shouldn’t be unthinkable that some people must have conditions set to experience it at all - regardless of their gender or your expectations.

Not everyone experiences sexual attraction freely. Some never have sexual attraction. Some experience it rarely, without reason. Some experience it only under specific circumstances.

While it is impossible to separate asexuality fully from the expectations set by purity culture’s rampant sexism and misogyny, that doesn’t mean people who need to experience a particular bond to experience sexual attraction shouldn’t be believed.

Demisexuality isn’t “how all women are”; that’s heteronormative sexism. Demisexuality is something cis men and masculine persons can experience and it doesn’t make them lesser.

Demisexuality exists. Asexuality exists. Unpack your expectations around sexuality and gender. There are many experiences that don’t fit into our purity culture driven ideas around sexuality and gender. Don’t ignore the spectrum of asexuality just because it challenges you. Asexuality as a whole places the agency over sexuality back in our control, where it always should have been. That’s a good thing.

Happy ace week!

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[wonder-farm-hc]

*gnawing at the bars of my enclosure* seb headcanons i beg

Of course! I apologize for the wait, and I hope you enjoy!

More content under "read more", no explicit hcs!

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🖤 He's actually pretty good at a few handsy crafts, including but not limited to: sewing, drawing, and altering clothes in general. He used to go all-out on his outfits, and so often (still) diy them (in true punk/goth fashion)

🖤 It took a while for him to open up to Maru, but eventually they became friends. He learned that she always looked up to him, and he felt guilty about sending her away all the time

🖤 Him and Maru have a 2 year age difference, and although that means they have a somewhat equal level of maturity, it also means they used to fight, often

🖤 She's actually his biggest supporter when it comes to his job (which is never fully specified, but I think it's strongly implied it has to do with coding/computers in general). Robin doesn't really get it (but is still supportive of it, partially) and Demetrius...doesn’t bother to understand, mostly. But Maru gets it, and she also knows a bit about coding and tech stuff, so she can understand!

🖤 Him and Demetrius have a rocky relationship, at best. The thing is, neither of them really put in the effort to know the other. They're cordial with each other, but other than that...they keep to themselves

🖤 Sebastian was first friends with Abigail, actually, and she introduced him to Sam (Caroline and Jodi seem like good friends, so I think Sam and Abigail got to know each other first, too).

🖤 Seb would never say it out loud, but Abigail and Sam are his favorite people in the world

🖤 I headcanon Sam to be Seb's queer awakening (and whether the relationship continues as platonic or not, I'll leave up to your personal taste)

🖤 Sebastian is pansexual, he doesn't really care about the other's gender

🖤 He's also quite comfortable in his masculinity, sometimes wearing nail polish or makeup (of course, strictly black, after all he does have an aesthetic to maintain) and back in the days of wild nights out in the city, even a skirt from time to time. Nowadays, he limits himself to fishnet stockings under ripped jeans

🖤 He likes to be alone, a lot, but he doesn't like to feel lonely. It's nice to have people to go back to

🖤 He dyes his hair black. He'd be a natural light brown

🖤 He's a dry texter, but he never ghosts people. He's quick to respond, even if the response is more often than not a thumbs emoji and nothing else

🖤 Sometimes, he doesn't have the energy to really talk to people, but he still wants company. Abigail and Sam notice this sometimes, and let him be, while still being near

🖤 He can have really bad days. During a particularly bad one, where he couldn't stand to be alone with his thoughts, he dragged himself to Maru's room. It was the only place he managed to reach, not having the energy to call his friends. Maru saw that he wasn't doing so good, and didn't shoo him away. As he laid on the bed, she began talking "to herself" (so she claims) about her current project, and Seb dozed off to sleep. The only thing she said to him the following day, was "You're always welcome in my room"

🖤 He thanked her with a basket full of strawberries the next day

🖤 He likes the rain, and he also LOVES thunderstoms. To feel the earth shake with each thunder that hits even remotely close, to see lighting in the sky...

🖤 He likes horror movies, but he's also a fan of sci-fi, and tragic movies too. It's a secret, but he also has a weak spot for rom coms (the ones from the 2000s are usually what he prefers)

🖤 He used to love collecting pokémon cards

🖤 He likes to read, too, and him and Abigail sometimes discuss the latest books they read. Sometimes he even talks to Maru about literature, although she's more on the "classical" sides, while he enjoys moderns. But she did lend him Bram Stoker's Dracula (he loved it)

[sharkboywrites]

Hi! Can you pls write halsin and astarion (Gale too if u can) with a trans male (transitioned) who feels insecure about appearing too feminine and thinking about cutting his long hair cause he thinks they’re too feminine? Sorry this just my insecurities. This morning I cut my hair and gold I wish I hadn’t cause I loved my hair but ppls told me they were girly so.. yeah. Regrets. Sorry about the mini rant. So Uhm would love if u could write so,è comfort, no worries if u can’t! Thx for being a mlm writer and love that u started writing for bg3! Have a lovely day!

Halsin, Astarion, and Gale with a Dysphoric FTM S/O

A/N: Took me about two years but I'm finally trying to get back to writing after falling down shitposting hell, yaay. So sorry to hear about your problems with hair (and also that it took me so long to get to it :/), hair can be a really complicated thing when you're trans and even though I cut mine as short as possible I still end up feeling too feminine most of the time. sorry that these are kinda short, I'm easing myself back into writing after a while of not writing at all, even personal works, after a family emergency.

Ftm reader, male reader, he/him pronouns used, heavy themes of dysphoria

Halsin

Halsin makes his morals clear, that things should be as nature intended it

This includes things like hair, and that hair growing out is a natural thing whether you're a man or woman

Obviously he's okay with hair cutting, his would be much longer if he hadn't, but he also supports the idea of letting your hair grow out, letting nature choose it's path, his hair is still near his shoulders after all

So when you come to him about your worries of your hair being "too feminine" he's very adamant that this is a normal thing

He assures you that hair is natural, and that people can have any length and it will not affect who they are as a person

Whatever you decided, cutting your hair or keeping it long, he will continue to assure you that no matter what hair length you have, you are still a man and the man he loves

Just know that Halsin loves you no matter what, you are a man and he will do everything in his power to make sure you know that

Astarion

Like Halsin, Astarion is really doesn't think much about hair length and it equating to gender

Astarion had met plenty of men in his life, many of which having long hair, some even long enough to go all the way down their legs to their ankles

And yet these men were still just that, men

Some quite masculine still, and not any less attractive to him

When you come to him with your troubles, he's immediately going to try and help you

He'll help you style your hair to find a way that you like it

He'll tie it all up, tie only certain parts of it up, twist it and braid it, until you find something that you like

Every time you find a style you like, because of course he'll keep going until you find multiple you're comfortable with, he'll tease you about how silly you were for thinking having long hair made you feminine

I mean, look at this man

His hair is short, but it's stylish, he takes good care of it, and he'll for sure know how to make it so that you'll like this

He'll make you feel as masculine as possible while playing with your hair, making sure you know just how loved yu are, as you are, a man

Gale

Gale himself has longer hair

Obviously it's not very long, about a bit longer than his shoulders, but he's confident about it most times

When he does get insecure about it, it's not because he doesn't feel masculine, it's because of his general insecurities with himself

So when you open up to him about your issues, he's not exactly sure how to help

He'd never considered that this could be a reason someone would be insecure

He encourages you to keep your hair long, although he's not very good at comforting you

He may try to mess around with your hair like Astarion, and he doesn't do as well, but he does well enough

You find a few styles that make you feel better and he promises to do his best to try and make it right every morning just for you

If you do want to cut it off, he won't stop you, even supervising to make sure you don't mess it up too bad

If you regret it later, he'll hold you close in an attempt to comfort you

Again, he's not great at comforting, but at this point he's also more comfortable and it does the trick

Before or after cutting your hair, he may use astral projection to try and make you feel better about your physical appearance if you really want it

Gale may not be the best in these situation, but he tries his hardest to do what's best for you and what you want, comforting you all the way through

Wooo I'm back to writing, ty for reading and have a nice day!

[ggggggfft]

Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

[maxdibert]

What do you think is the reason behind Sirius's acceptance and support of Remus Lupin - a werewolf? The creature his mother finds disgusting and despicable. Did he find the idea of having a werewolf friend exciting and a proper way to be even more rebellious towards his mother, even if only quietly, since she probably never knew he was friends with a werewolf? Your criticisms describe Sirius as someone performative, keeping it safe with the whole 'befriending an enemy but still a respectable one' and someone who still holds bigoted beliefs, even if they are subconcious. Therefore do you think his acceptance of Remus at first was only because of James's influence or did he actually like Remus as a person and managed to swallow down his uncomfortable feelings? And what about James? Werewolves are very oppressed in their society, much more so than muggleborns, they are basically considered subhuman by most of society. Accepting one into your friendgroup is a huge achievement and a sign of kindness (if their acceptance of him was actually rooted in moral values and not something else). They also managed to keep Remus's secret for so long. What do you think? I appreciate your opinions a lot since you are the only one on this app that shares most of mine and it is hard to come by someone so intelligent in thought and writing.

Honestly, I think they found it thrilling to play with danger. They liked the idea that one of their dorm mates had a super dark secret that only they knew, and that this secret involved putting themselves in danger once a month. Sirius, in particular, was always pretty reckless, and I think the excitement of knowing he was going to face some kind of monster genuinely turned him on.

Then there’s that typical teenage mindset of sharing a secret, the feeling of being special because you know something nobody else does, of belonging to a group that’s above everyone else because they’re privy to ultra-confidential information. And let’s not forget James's paternalistic side—being the self-proclaimed hero of the story, he probably took Remus under his wing in a mega-condescending "Don’t worry, bro, I’ll take care of you, this is between us, together till the end" kind of way. You know, typical 1970s hetero teenage guy stuff, flaunting their masculine camaraderie.

But primarily? I think they were just reckless kids addicted to trouble and rule-breaking for fun, who found the idea of having a monster in the house wildly exciting in a completely childish and thoughtless way. I also think they probably saw Remus and Peter—but especially Remus—as their personal charity cases, partly to convince themselves they weren’t just a bunch of privileged snobs.

It doesn’t take much to see how shallow their relationship with Remus really was. I mean, they didn’t consider him at all. When the war broke out, he was the first one they suspected of switching sides. After Lily and James died, Remus never reached out to Harry, not even when Harry had already started at Hogwarts. I’ve always felt that deep down, Remus didn’t matter to them. They probably cared about him, sure, but he was more like their personal freak-show attraction than anything else. This was especially true for Sirius, who even considered using him as a weapon against Severus. Pure utilitarianism.