#and your mom turns around and goes what!!!

[cvnt4him]

Shoyou breaking up w you before you both graduate.

Shoyou has such a hard time breaking up with you. He truly loved you so much but he had to follow his heart. He couldn't hold onto you, he felt as if that if he made you wait for him; wait until he was finally ready to put down roots then he'd be asking you to save yourself for longer than he even knew. It was wrong in his eyes, he loves you so much but it isn't fair to you. It isn't fair to hold you down like this.

“ I can't hold on to you...not like this....I love you, too much for this..”

You both cry in each other's arms, foreheads leaning against one another. You both sniffle and try to hold back your sobs. The way he spoke gently to you, it was so soothing yet so heartbreaking. That was the last time you'd seen him.

A couple of years past, you and a few other former kurasuno affiliates sat inside the bleachers waiting for the game to end everyone on the edge of their seats with the heated game going on. However there was a particular reason you were squeamish...shoyou hinata. He was playing. You watched him move with quicker than you remember jumping higher than ever. He was more attractive than you could even bear.

His tanned skin sweating and reddened slightly, that stupid smile he had on his face that he got when he was eager...goodness. you bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together. It's been so long since you last seen him, since you two had last spoken. You were nervous...what would he say when he actually seen you?,

After the game ends everyone says their hellos and stuff. You were so nervous fidgeting as you groan lowly to yourself. There was no way you could face your ex boyfriend, not like this. It was too......much for you to handle..

Just as you were about to call this whole thing quits and walk away you hear a familiar voice shout to you..

“...hey.”

You stop in your tracks seemingly unable to move. You knew exactly who it was, emotions were filling you. Such a mix of them making your stomach churn. You gulp down hardly before slowly turning to face him.

Your eyes met with those vibrant gleaming orange eyes. So wide and full of neverending potential. He was absolutely gorgeous, even more up close. You could see his skin glisten with sweat and small strands of his ginger hair sticking to his forehead. He offered you a small smile slightly opening his arms to you, letting you do what you will with that.

What else could you do than run into his toned arms. Tears well in your eyes as you laugh inhaling his newly distinct scent inside your nostrils. He wrapped his arms around you tightly chuckling above you. He had gotten a bit taller than you and way more muscular than you'd remembered.

As you both pulled apart clearing your throats from the small laughter you shared, you couldn't help but admire him closely now. He was so ethereal, and goodness that smile....

You seen the way he died you up and down slowly biting his lip lighting as he did so. S small amused scoff leaving him. You felt so jittery underneath his gaze like this.

“ you look good.”

His voice was deeper than you remembered as well...sending vibrations right through your body. You stammered on your words trying to find what to say as what he says goes straight to your head, making your face warm up a bit.

“ yeah...uhm, yes well so do you. you really uh tanned up a bit, huh. suits you.”

He chuckled lowly at your words, rubbing the back of his slightly sweatened neck sighing as he speaks to you.

“ yeah well uh, you're not actually the first person to notice that. not the first person to say that either. alot of uh soccer moms seem to love the tan.”

He laughs at the end of his sentence, you can't help but to laugh along with him. Sighing shakily as you stare at him. You feel as if it's wrong to do so, you hate how much you want him badly but gosh he's so sexy.

You both just look at each other for a moment staring deeply into each other's eyes. You see the way he slowly nibbles at his lip.

Before you knew it you were making out in the bathroom trying to be as quietly as you could considering all of the people that were outside. His hot breaths fanning your face as he struggles to get your clothes off with his slippery hands. He groans lowly as you begin to nip at his neck, his hands wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him.

“ god, I want you so fuckin’ badly.”

Shoyou groaned above you, sitting you up on the counter as he cranes your head up to his so he can kiss you once more. He lets his tongue find it's way inside of your mouth. Your tongues swirling around each others spit slipping at the corners of your mouths.

Once he gets your shirt off her quick to attack your chest kissing sloppily over your pushed up boobs, hands going to your back to quickly remove your back his hands coming up to replace it, gently squeezing and groping the meaty flesh. He groans and moves his kisses and small sucked down to your bare chest, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth.

You hold him close by his head tangling your fingers through his ginger locs, small curls forming around your fingers and you scratch lightly at his scalp humming with a small laugh laced in. You kiss his head lightly as your breathing changes, you pant lightly and lowly a small mewl leaving your lips as he continued leaving hickeys and sucking harshly.

A small knock at the door causes you to tense in his hands, a light gasp leaving you as you pull at his hair slightly. He groans and continues as if he's even more needy than before. Pulling you impossibly closer to him.

A voice speaks slightly muffled due to the barrier you couldn't exactly make out what the male said due to shoyous excessive moaning.

“ shoyou.. there's, there's someone at the door...”

A small grunt leaves his mouth as a response you don't know what to do, you sigh beneath his touch jittery and nervous due to the person

After a while it appears he'd left, but by then shoyou was already burying his face inside of your cunt. Inhaling deeply at the smell of you he missed so much, a small whine leaving him as he kissed your clothed cunt sloppily.

He pulled away swiftly to remove the barrier, pulling your pants and panties down at once. Delving his tongue inside immediately without hesitation groaning at the taste of you on his tongue eyes slightly rolling as he struggles to keep his composure.

He licks and sucks up everything you give him trying to maintain eye contact with you as be makes out with your cunny having his thumb rub circles on your clit slowly. As he pulls away momentarily from you a line of your arousal and his spit connects him to your cunt making you shudder at how he looks at you.

Hes so pussy drunk he can't help but to push his face back into your sweet folds tongue flicking and swirling around your clit as he fingers you slowly. There were murmurs outside of the door causing you slight concern, maybe you were being too loud or maybe he was slurping too loudly. There were so many things clouding your head, however with your orgasm coming fastly and crashing down on you all you could do was grab shoyou by his hair and try and pull him away from you.

He kept licking up everything you gave him sighing in your pussy as he rubs your thighs soothingly. He pulls away from you finally licking up everything left on his face before making eye contact with you once more. He smirks and scoffs lowly before pulling your clothes up and riding to his feet.

You catch your breath, yet feeling a bit more breathless as you look into his eyes. Full of determination and a hint of cockiness. He pulls you into a slow kiss letting you taste the flavours of yourself on his tongue.

You sigh shakily before pushing him away lying your head in his shoulder as you continue to level your breathing. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your head making you laugh lightly.

“ I miss this. I miss you.”

He rubbed your shoulder softly looking at himself in the mirror facing the music of his previous decisions. Shoyou didn't know what he wanted but he knew he couldn't let you go. Not again.

“ you were right....before, that is.”

He hums looking down at you, you dust yourself off before jumping off of the counter turning to wash your hands and encouraging him to do the same. You two stand side by side as you both dry your hands, he looks at you wondering whatever it is that you mean .

“ I was holding you back. I still might...you're meant for greatness. I would only get in the way of that.”

He scoffed annoyed at your response. Shoyou didn't care about any of that, sure he knew some of his fans would be upset upon hearing he would be in a relationship but he doesn't care. He truly does love you and he always has. There was no way in hell be would pass up getting to follow his passion and being with you.

“ y/n I love you. more than I do anything else in this world. I can handle a little hate from some people, especially if it means I can be with you and do what I love.”

You sigh. This was a lot. You didn't want to take him away from the world or from what he loves. It would make you feel bad, not just about yourself but for him. At first you didn't get it, but now you understand. All too well unfortunately. You can't hold him back like this, not again. He'd be better off following his dreams and focusing on them rather than having to worry about you and manage himself and his goals.

You turn to him tears welling in your eyes once more, you give a wobbly smile to him one that he knew couldn't mean anything good. He sighed shakily accepting what he knew was to come. As fun as this was you both knew it wouldn't work. You loved each other too much; cared for each other too much. So much so that it held you both back.

Just as you were about to speak, about to apologize he simply pulls you into a hug. It was tight and comforting exactly what you both needed. His breathing changed as if he were trying to hold back his emotions. You kissed his cheek before letting him go telling him he should wait few before leaving after you. He agrees.

As you walked out of that bathroom you ran into a couple of people saying your goodbyes and giving your hugs to everyone and leaving.

Weeks pass and just as you thought you could get over whatever you needed to get over in order to focus on yourself. You scroll on social media to find everyone talking about ‘japanese volleyball player shoyou hinata, better known as 'ninja shoyou' from the black jackals seen leaving bathroom after another woman.’ there was a clear video showing you walking out of the bathroom fixing yourself up and saying goob ye to people and then shoyou walking out about a couple of minutes later.

Fuck

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty three

authors note: last chapter before shit starts to hit the fan....

cw/tw: fluff and angst

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 16k (diabolical)

“Baby!” The sound of Solana’s voice somehow travels through the space of their massive home and reaches the ears of Roman right as he’s finished yet another bench press. “I’m home!”

Naturally, Dulce, who’d been calmly laying on the padded mat watching him workout, lifts her head. Her ears perk up and her tail wags at hearing the voice of her favorite person in the whole world.

Roman chuckles, taking the towel to wipe off the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Mom’s home.”

Dulce barks in celebration and runs out said room before turning back around, standing in the doorway, clearly waiting for him. She barks again as he wraps the towel around the back of his neck. He’s obviously taking too long. “I’m coming,” is his response. Roman allows his pet to guide him through the turns and hallways of their palatial home until they reach the living room where Solana is walking in while holding a grocery bag.

Naturally, Roman rushes over to her, relieving her of the bag. “I told you I don’t want you lifting on things, Sol.” He places the bag that only has a pack of napkins in it on the counter, seeing security carrying in the rest of the bags. 

“It’s just one bag, Ro,” she defends, crouching down to pet Dulce. Smiling, Solana stands up and walks over to him, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, hand on her hip. Prepared to ask how she’s feeling, Roman is momentarily distracted in realizing security is still bringing in groceries, their counters and island filled with brown paper bags. “Sol….how much food did you get?”

She looks around and then back at him. “The usual.”

His bushy brow lifts. “This is the usual?” He knows it’s not, solely because he usually goes grocery shopping with her these days and only didn’t today because she’d snuck out their bed early in the morning to do so on her own.

She shrugs. “Okay, maybe….maybe a little more than the usual.” He’d argue it’s a lot more than that. “But, baby, you eat a lot.” One suggestive look, and she’s blushing, slapping his chest. “Stop it.” He chuckles and kisses her temple. She’s so easily flustered sometimes. “I just—I had to get more, because I’m gonna cook you up some meals for while I’m gone.”

Roman sighs. “Sol….”

“I got you some of your favorite snacks, too,” she shares, walking away to start emptying bags. He moves to stand beside her, assisting as she shows him all of his guilty pleasures, the things that make him have to spend a little extra time in the gym. All worth it though.

Solana is loading up the drawer in the fridge with his favorite yogurts she’d also purchased when he pulls something from the bag he was emptying. “Sol….” She turns to look at him, to see the item in his hand. “What is this?”

She gasps, almost happily. “Your new vitamins.”

Naturally, he’s scowling. “Vitamins?” Roman briefly reads the writing on the bottle. One-A-Day for Men. “I don’t take vitamins.”

“Well, you’re gonna start.” She answers so matter-of-factly, closing the fridge door, arms crossed. “I was talking to Dr. Michaels—”

“Since when do you talk to him?”

“We do weekly check-ins,” she shares casually, explaining, “I let him know how you’re doing and if you’re taking your meds, and he lets me know if you’re attending appointments and getting your blood work checked like you should.”

Roman is partially surprised, but he shouldn't be. He shouldn’t be, because he freely sighed an ROI for his wife to communicate with Michaels regarding his care. Something that felt only right in the name of wanting to be more open with her, but right now, it’s seeming like it’s biting him in the ass just a bit.

“And he told me that he’s been trying to get you to take vitamins for years.

“He has.” Roman won’t deny that. It’s the truth. “And for years, I’ve been ignoring his ass.”

Solana frowns. “Well, not anymore.” She announces, walking over to him and pointing to the benefits listed on the packaging. “Dr. Michaels said this is the best brand for you, and it’s only once a day, so you can take it when you take your blood pressure medication.”

Roman scratches his beard, reminding calmly, “Solana, you know I don’t like taking pills.”

“Yes, but I also know that you need to,” she counters, crossing her arms. “Lots of people take vitamins. I take them. Well, now I take my prenatals, but before that, I took a daily supplement.”

“That’s different, Sol.”

“How?” She presses, scowling a bit. “How is it different?”

“You’re pregnant. You have to take that shit,” he answers, placing the bottle back in the bag. “I don’t have to take anything.”

Roman prepares to move to another bag when Solana reaches past him and pulls the bottle right back out. “Roman, you are taking these pills.”

He’s taken back by both the conviction in her voice and the determination written all over her face. “Solana, I don’t want—”

“Roman Tamasa Reigns, I don’t care what you want,” she cuts him off, the Tribal Chief’s eyes widening ever so softly as she uses his full name for the first time ever as well as the quick, rushed, wordy rant she goes on in Spanish before closing her eyes. Solana takes a deep breath, switching back to English and handing him the bottle. “You are taking these vitamins, okay?”

It’s a strange thing. Roman has experienced many sides of his wife. Anxious Solana. Scared Solana. Depressed Solana. 

Suicidal Solana.

But, he can’t say he’s ever seen an angry Solana, and she’s most definitely angry.

It’s why he wordlessly accepts the bottle, not wanting to say anything to further upset her. He just places it on the counter and goes back to emptying bags when he hears it. 

A sniffle.

Turning back to her, Roman is once again taken back. 

Why the fuck is she crying? Wasn’t she just angry with him? What the fuck is even happening right now?

“Baby–” He goes to reach for her to comfort her, though he’s not quite sure just what he’s comforting her for, cause again, why is she even crying right now? “I’m sor—”

“I went to the grocery store, and I got all these—these groceries for you—” She hiccups, motioning around their big kitchen. “And you can’t even do this one thing for me.” She breaks down crying into her hands, and God forgive him, but Roman’s first reaction isn’t to tuck her into him and console her.

His first instinct is what the fuck because she was literally just upset with him, and now she’s crying over some damn vitamins?

The fuck?

Regardless of being confused as all the outdoors, Roman welcomes her into his chest, apologizing, “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“You don’t care,” she cries into him.

“I do care, Solana,” he tries to save face, though not sure just how she became so upset so quickly. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I’m just trying to help you,” she cries heavier, and as awful as Roman feels about it, he’s having a hard time taking her serious. Roman has held his wife as she cried into him, sobbed into him so violently that her body jolted from the intensity. 

This….this feels different.

It is different.

An overreaction, but that’s uncharacteristic for her personality. Something that doesn’t define her, but it’s absolutely what’s happening right now. Regardless, her crying, overreaction or not, is something he doesn’t like, so he has to make it right.

“I know you are, Sol, and I’m sorry.” She sniffles, coming down a bit. It’s then he offers, “I’ll—I’ll take the vitamins, okay?” Anything to just get her to stop. “Alright?”

She looks up at him, pouting almost. “You promise?”

No. “Yes.” 

More sniffling as he wipes away her tears. “Okay.” More sniffling as she hiccups, “I think—I think I’m gonna go lay down.”

“Yes,” he says it much too quickly, way too eager for her to just go…..calm down or something. “Go take a nap. I’ll finish putting everything away.”

“Okay.” She nods, walking over and picking up Dulce who Roman swears looks just as confused as he feels. “Come on, baby.”

Roman waits until Solana is out of the kitchen and up the stairs before leaning back against the kitchen counter, lost as fuck over what just happened. 

—------

“And then she just started crying.” Roman’s retelling is borderline dramatic as he sits forward on the sofa, legs spread, hand gestures included with his storytelling.

Lita lifts a brow. “Crying?”

“Yes.”

She makes a sound, asking, “so what’d you do?”

“I told her I would take the vitamins, and it seemed to calm her down, then she went for a nap.” Roman slaps his hands on his thighs, leaning back. “But, then I went upstairs a little while later, and she wanted to have sex.”

“Did you?”

“Of course.” An easy answer that’s always the same. “But, I don’t understand how she went from being upset with me, to being sad and crying, to being horny and wanting to fuck.” Roman crosses his arms, a thought crossing his mind. “Maybe it’s her medication. She might need an adjustment.” He looks at Lita, asking, “you think I should talk to Stratus?”

Lita takes a breath, trying to figure out how to word her response for what’s inarguably been her most challenging yet interesting client ever. “Roman, how much do you know about pregnancy? About pregnant women?”

“I know a couple things.” There’s an almost insulting tone to his voice, like he’s confused as to why she would even ask him such a thing. “Why?”

Lita sucks her teeth. “Cause I think it’s time you read up on what pregnancy does to women in all areas. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.” She shrugs, sharing, “what you’re describing is pretty typical for pregnant women sometimes. The hormonal changes that occur often result in mood swings. That’s what that was. She was having a mood swing.”

At that, the Tribal Chief sits forward once more. “You’re telling me that shit was normal?”

Lita chuckles. “Pretty much.”

Roman looks off, like his whole world has been turned upside down. Like he was expecting any other answer than what he’s been given. “Well, when does it stop?”

“When is she due?”

“May,” he answers, a small sense of pride laid underneath his tone. 

Lita senses it but tucks it away for a later time. “Then, May.”

Once more, his eyes are widening. “You mean she’s going to be this way until she gives birth?”

Lita has to hold back her laughter as she takes some more notes while explaining, “nine times out of ten, the mood swings will eventually subside, but I think you’re better served learning how to effectively communicate with her and respond to her when she gets that way versus waiting around for her hormones to level out.” 

“What do you mean?”

Lita sighs. “It’s obvious that you were bothered by the abrupt changes in her mood.”

The sneer on his face is accompanied by a harsh rebuff. “I wasn’t bothered.”

“Then why are we discussing it right now?” Silence. Lita also sits forward, deciding to share some of the man tidbits she’s noticed about Roman in their time working together. “I’ve noticed you are very against saying anything that could be perceived as remotely negative or, God forbid, someone else saying anything remotely negative about your wife.” Lita has a good guess Roman’s response would be physical in the event of that second one. “And I know, a lot of that comes from how protective you are of her. Some of that codependency as well. But, two truths can exist in the same universe where she’s allowed to say or do something that upsets or bothers you and you can bring it to her attention. It doesn’t make you a bad husband.” 

Roman’s gaze and focus is on the wall to the side of him instead of the woman in front of him. “I don’t want to argue with her. She has….trauma with that.”

“And, I understand that, but you also have trauma. Whether you want to admit it or not is fine, I’ll respect that. Wholly. But, part of your struggle is opening up about your feelings with people, which again, I know is not for good reason, though it’s painfully obvious that your wife is a safe person for you, so if you were to open up to someone, it would be her.” More silence. “And discussion doesn’t have to equate an argument.”

When he still says nothing, Lita continues, “and yes, know that you have problems controlling your temper, but I also know that if there’s one person you’d control it with, it’s your wife.”

She'd bet her life on that.

“I don’t want to be put in that position,” Roman finally speaks, voice even but also filled with something almost heavy. “They last time we argued…..” he trails off, a memory returning. “It just wasn’t good. She doesn’t need that stress with her pregnancy.”

Lita looks at him, makes note of his nonverbals, sees that this wall will take a little longer to chip away at. 

“How are you doing with that anyway?” He looks at her, prompting her to clarify. “The pregnancy. You haven’t really touched on it in our past two sessions.”

Roman thinks about her question, considers how he wants to answer and how honest he wants to be. “I think….I think it’s getting….better.”

“Better, how?”

Again, more thinking. “I don’t….I don’t feel as unsure about it.” 

Lita nods slowly, tentatively questioning, “what do you feel?” To cut some of the tension, she gestures with her thumb. “You want the feeling wheel?”

Roman instantly scowls. “I’m not using that damn thing.” Lita chuckles, and though he won’t admit it, he appreciates it. Appreciates her trying to make this a little less uncomfortable. “I don’t….I don’t want to say excited.” And maybe he does, but something holds him back, prevents him from owning that. “But, something….something like that.”

Lita adjusts in her seat, paraphrasing. “The idea of being a father is becoming less abstract and more concrete.” She shrugs, offering, “it’s starting to feel more real, because it is real.”

Lita’s right. Roman won’t verbally acknowledge it, but she’s correct. Every appointment he attends with Solana, every time he opens up the app to see where she is, where the girls are, developmentally speaking, makes it all the more real. 

And while there’s a part of that that’s terrifying as fuck, because he’s still lost on so many things and has so much to learn, there’s still that part of him that doesn’t feel as unsure, like he said. He feels a form of excitement. 

He is excited.

“Yeah,” is all he offers, though something tells him Lita has a good mind where his head is, because despite her being annoying as fuck sometimes with her probing questions that end up landing him right where she wants him, she’s effective. And, they work well together. 

She meets him where he is, and he’s grateful for that.

Doesn’t mean he’s just gonna spill his heart out to her. No. Fuck that. He’ll share as and when he pleases.

“She’s three months, right?”

“Yeah,” Roman answers and starts to leave it at that, but some small part of him, a part he doesn’t quite understand, offers. “Twins….twin girls.”

At that, Lita’s eyes widen. “Well, shit, double trouble? And girls, too?” She scoffs, grabbing her Stanley to take a sip. “Yeah, buddy, you might want to start reading up now.”

Roman scowls. “What do you mean?”

“You’re struggling as it is with your wife’s mood swings while pregnant, just wait till those girls hit puberty and wifey is either pregnant again, so you’re getting it from all ends.”

That sounds like something out of a nightmare, but there’s something else about her wording that he’s focused on.

Almost suspicious, Roman inquires, “did she tell you about all these kids she wants?”

“Wait, what?” Lita’s visible confusion at his question looks and feels authentic, Roman not getting a sense that she’s playing dumb. “You know my policy, I don’t talk to anyone unless you authorize it. Even wifey.” He does recall her saying that, but he also knows he signed an ROI so she could share information with Solana, and since his wife seems to be in cahoots with his doctor, why not the therapist as well? “She wants more kids after this?”

Roman nods, crossing his arms once more. “Three more.”

Lita’s eyes widen. “She wants how many more?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I fucking said.”

Lita nods to herself, shrugging, “well….that woman clearly loves you.” She then asks, “what about you?”

“What about me?”

Without skipping a beat, she asks directly, “do you want more kids after this?”

A fair thing to be asked, but something Roman, in true Roman fashion, answers almost indirectly. Sort of. “I think we should be focusing on this pregnancy before talking about more kids.”

“You know that’s not what I asked you, right?” Yes, he absolutely does. If only he cared. “Look….it’s okay for you to not have an answer, but based on what you’ve shared with me in the past regarding your thoughts and feelings on kids, if I had to take a guess, I’d say you’re sca—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Roman’s interruption cuts deep, his entire disposition almost doing a 180. Like whatever almost lighthearted tone that was there before is gone now. Replaced with something almost cold. “Change the subject. Now.”

And Lita sees this, sees the shifts, knows why said shift happens, but she respects it. Respects him. Respects that he’s not ready to go there just yet. “Okay.” And she does change the subject, asking, “any plans for while the wife is away?”

—-------

“Okay, I labeled everything for you. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, and dessert,” Solana’s explanation is accompanied by her holding the refrigerator door open as she points to the generous amount of clear containers. She pulls one out that, sure enough, reads breakfast. “You just have to see which one you want.” She gasps, bumping the door closed as she moves over to the other side of the kitchen. “I should have labeled what each meal is.”

“Solana, it’s fine. I don’t need all that.”

She’s not listening, too busy using the sharpie she grabbed out of the pen holder on the counter to label the container in her hand. “I’ll do it before we leave. I don’t want you accidentally picking something thinking it’s something else.”

“Sol—”

“I also picked up your blood pressure medicine from the pharmacy this morning, cause you were running low, so you should be good with your meds.” She looks up, adding firmly, “and your vitamins.” Roman pushes back his scowl. Those damn vitamins. “And if for some reason, you get through all the meals in the fridge, I have some in the freezer as well.”

“Solana—”

“Dulce should be good with her food, too, but I did pick her up some of those treats she likes, so maybe give her one with her dinner once or twice?” The question is more informative than anything as Solana moves back over to the fridge to grab another container that she doesn’t need to label. “Oh my gosh,” she stops, slapping her forehead. “I forgot to do that last load of laundry for you.” She shakes her head, placing the bowl and pen on the counter. “Let me just go do that right—”

Roman moves quickly, using his arm to block her path, forcing her to finally look at and listen to him. “Solana.” Her attention on him, he doesn’t waste this opportunity to point out the real reason behind her almost frantic-like behavior. “I’ll be fine.”

He sees it. The concern that flashes in her gaze and how her shoulders drop. “I just…..I just want to make sure you’re okay while I’m gone.” Her hands on his chest, the truth continues to make itself known. “I haven’t been away from you since….” She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t need to.

Since Fetu passed.

Solana has been with him, by his side, supporting and loving him x10 since Fetu passed. 

“I know,” he mutters, reaching up to push some of her hair back, eyes briefly focused on her tattoo. “But, I’ll be fine, Sol. I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for a long time.”

“But, you don’t have to anymore,” she counters, softly. “You have me. I—I can take care of you. I can make sure you’re good.”

“And, I am, Sol. Largely because of you.” He kisses her forehead, reminding, “but you also have to take care of yourself. That’s why I’m letting you go.”

Letting her doesn’t feel like the right word, but in the moment, it’s the best he has. Because he would never want her to feel like she needs his permission to do anything in life. She’s had enough of that shit from men to last her a lifetime, but there is some say he has with her comings and goings due to her being pregnant with their children.

For safety reasons, he has to have a say.

“I know,” she murmurs, moving to hug him. “I’ll only be gone a couple days.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but a part of him, the selfless part of him hopes it’s longer than that. Solely because of the other plan she has for while she’s in Mexico on her “girls trip.”

Paloma.

She plans to tell Paloma who she really is.

And from that, Roman hopes she gets to spend time with the closest living, remaining connection she has to her mother.

Solana deserves that. 

Especially…..especially if she ends up having to go and/or stay even longer for a different reason.

A very different reason.

“I know.” He’ll play along. Go with what’s needed to make her feel most comfortable. Roman wraps his arms around her, reiterating, “we’ll be fine.” He looks over at Dulce who lays in her bed in the living room—she must have one in every damn room at this point—sleeping peacefully. “She’ll probably sleep the whole damn time anyway.”

Solana giggles into him and slaps his arm. “Stop it.” 

Roman holds her for a couple more minutes before realizing time is not on their side, and they need to get moving. “Come on.” He lightly slaps and squeezes her ass, invoking another giggle. It makes him smile a little. “We gotta be out of here soon.”

At that, she steps away, frowning. “Why do we have to leave again so early? I told the girls to be at the airport around 2”

Roman’s answer is right away, even if it’s something he comes up with on the spot. “I’m not trying to be around your annoying ass friends, Solana.” 

As expected, she rolls her eyes, protesting lightly, “Roman, my friends aren’t annoying, and Bayley, even Melina, are technically family.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, following her as she leads them upstairs.

Solana being Solana absolutely makes sure to start up that last load of laundry. She also goes through at least two more lists of unnecessary things she did for him to “help” him out while she’s gone. And while Roman does consider it unnecessary, he’s appreciative. 

Appreciative of her and all she does for him, all that she is for him. 

“What about this?” Solana asks him as they sit in the back of the SUV, on the way to the airport. It’s a design option for kitchen counters. A beautiful, unique granite.

“It’s nice,” he responds. “But, Sol, you already know I don’t care what goes in the kitchen. It’s whatever you want.”

She looks up at him. “I know, but this house is for us, so your input matters, too, Ro.”

He doesn’t disagree, though there’s certain parts about said house they plan to build that he wouldn’t mind being for just her. Like the kitchen, cause Lord knows he’ll never be in there cooking and baking like she does. “The kitchen is your space though. Now our bedroom, yeah, I want some say.”

A crafty smile forms on her pretty face. “So, you don’t want to paint it pink?”

“Solana, don’t fucking play with me like that,” he mutters, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She giggles and leans further back into him, clearly finding humor in his distress. “It’s bad enough you keep talking about all these damn kids you want.”

“That I’m going to have,” she corrects, like that shit is supposed to make sense. Like he’s supposed to be okay with this plan she has to be pregnant every year or something. 

“Solana.” He has to talk some sense into this girl. Is this another pregnancy thing? He makes a note to ask Lita about it in their next session. “I need you to be serious with me. Do you know how stressful it would be to have five children?”

Massively, insanely stressful, for maybe more reasons than he's willing to currently acknowledge...

She pouts and responds so casually. “It wouldn’t always be stressful.” She turns more to look at him, hand resting comfortably on his abs. “And, if we’re going to have this massive house, we need to fill it up….”

“With furniture,” he supplies. “We can fill it up with furniture. Not a bunch of kids.”

That’s clearly not the answer she wants, as evidenced by the scowl on her face. “I want more kids, Roman.”

“And, I told you we can have one more after the girls, but anything beyond that, Solana—”

“I’m getting my kids, Ro, and that’s final.” Solana not only cutting him off, but doing so with attitude is something the Tribal Chief could have and would never bet on, but that’s exactly what’s happened. His sassy ass wife redirects her attention back to her scrolling on that red app she likes that has a lot of pictures and proceeds like she didn’t just cop an attitude. 

“Solana,” he finds himself saying, sitting up a bit. “You—”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Another interruption. Less sassy. Still an interruption, nonetheless. 

There’s a revolving door of emotions in that moment. At first, he’s annoyed, which is significantly tamer than what he’d feel if this was anyone else speaking to him this way. Roman’s killed for lesser offenses.

Then there’s slight amusement, because his 5’0 wife hitting him with the attitude of someone his height and stature is the last thing anyone would expect. 

Followed up with a slight tightening in his pants, because there’s something undeniably attractive about Solana being assertive. About standing on business. He might not agree with what she’s standing on, but he damn sure respects it. 

And then finally, he arrives at the largest and most lasting emotion. Proud. Roman feels proud of his wife. 

It’s still hard for him to grasp the fact that this is the woman he met all those months ago who could barely withstand more than 30 seconds of eye contact. Who was terrified of him. Terrified of the world that had only been unkind to her.

Now, she sits before him, openly going against him without any sign of anxiety or fear. And while he now knows her pregnancy hormones are playing a large role in the oscillation of her emotions, it doesn’t negate the fact that even before becoming pregnant, the Solana he knew then is not the same Solana he knows now. 

Stronger in every way. A tremendous and beautiful growth. 

Roman finds himself dipping his head to kiss her temple. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, finger moving up and down her upper arm. “Extremely fucking proud of you.”

And even that seems not enough to adequately describe it. 

However, the small smile on Roman’s face is wiped away when she looks up at him and asks with a mischievous smile. “Enough to have three more kids?”

“Solana.”

She laughs once more, finding delight in his misery. Roman sighs loudly as his wife leans up and strokes his beard, kissing his cheek, “thank you, mi amor.”

Roman still hasn’t really picked up much of Spanish outside a couple words, but there’s something universal about her statement. 

Love. 

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet, Solana showing Roman a few more photos of ideas she has for the kitchen when they arrive at the airport. Naturally, Roman slides his expensive sunglasses over his eyes and exits the car first so he can open Solana’s door for her.

He holds her hand as she steps out and tugs up those tight ass pants that have him forcing to ignore the recoil of her fat ass with said adjustment. The transition is aided by her confused countenance at the jet that is not the one they took last time. She turns to him with a frown. “You got a new jet?”

“I did,” he confirms, lifting his sunglasses up, setting them atop his head. “But not for me.” Solana’s eyes start to widen as he shares, “it’s for you.” 

Hands planted over her mouth, she looks in shock between himself and the private jet with pink lining, pink steps descended to reveal a glimpse of the interior that also has shades of pink. “Roman, no.”

“I don’t really like the idea of your dumbass friends in my space,” he shares, moving toward her, hands on her waist. “Plus, if I’m away on work, and you decide to fly down to Mexico, you need transportation.”

She scoffs, offering so innocently, “But, I could just book a flight, Ro.”

“That’s not fucking happening.” It’ll be a cold day in hell when Roman ever allows his wife to fly commercial. Absolutely not. 

Solana is still very much in a state of disbelief, but her smile grows wider as she exclaims with all of the shock. “I can’t believe you got me a whole private jet.” Giggles erupt from her as she suddenly throws herself into him, arms wrapped around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

It’s hard for Roman to not smile, feeling her immense love and appreciation for something that seems so simple to him. Maybe not in price, not that that’s a factor, but just how overtly grateful she is for anything he does for her. 

Her spirit is so pure. 

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, kissing her temple and lightly slapping her ass. Solana is back on the ground, looking up at him with undeniable excitement, when he asks, “you wanna see it?” Light laughter at how she nods rapidly and takes his hand, guiding him toward the jet. 

Roman feels a bit silly feeling relieved almost at how Solana “ooohs” and “awwws” at the interior of her private jet, predominantly pink and white, amenities based upon her and what he knows about her. Roman is good at a lot of things, including reading people in terms of their likes and dislikes. But, there’s always a small part of him that’s unsure of himself when it comes to doing and getting things for his wife. 

A fear of letting her down.

Of disappointing her.

Something he hasn’t felt or worried about in a long time. 

“I love it so much, Roman,” she says after they finish the tour. She’s got her arms back around his neck, that beautiful smile dimming just a bit. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

Roman chuckles. “I’m sure. You need to do this, Sol.”

“I know,” she sighs. Roman soothingly moves his hands up and down her sides. “I just….you know I don’t like being away from you.”

He knows. The same way he doesn’t like being apart from her either, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Your life can’t revolve around me, Solana.” A gentle reminder. Necessary, too, perhaps. 

“But, you’re such a big part of my life,” she replies, voice soft, eyes focused on his shirt as she lightly pulls at the material. “Not being around you feels…..weird….wrong.” 

Roman knows Solana is codependent when it comes to him. The same way he realizes he’s codependent with her as well. But, he’s been reminded of it even more in the past few weeks with how involved she wants him in all the things, which is fine and normal, especially as it pertains to the pregnancy. But, it’s the not knowing what she would do without him that’s starting to have him concerned. 

Especially if the situation arises where she doesn’t have a choice.

He’d mentioned it to Gail, asked her to work with Solana on that, but so much has happened between now and then that he wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t even gotten to it yet.

A disservice. Understandable, but a disservice, nonetheless. 

“Everything will be fine, Solana.” He kisses her forehead, reminding, “you already know if you need me, just call me, and I’ll be there.”

And there’s the hard part. There are times, like this, where he sees how independent and capable she’s become that he thinks she’ll be okay. Where he thinks she’ll be able to handle a separation, if necessary. But, it’s not consistent, not reliable, and that’s where his biggest issue comes to play.

Then there’s also the role he plays. Roman knows he makes himself always available to her, and in some ways, that’s also his comfort. It…..bothers him to not be available for her if she needs something. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, that largely stems from that night. The night she tried to take her own life. 

The night he wasn’t there, and she needed him.

He won’t risk that again. 

He’s terrified to risk that again.

—---------

It’s a fun time from the minute the ladies all board the jet, to the conversations that transpire, but most definitely when they all arrive to Roman and Solana’s home in Isla Mujeres. Solana considered asking Roman if they could rent something instead, as she knows how much he values their space being their space, but he shocked her by recommending they just stay at the home he purchased for them.

Her guess would be it’s because it’s not their main home, the space only being used every so often. Only once, really, since Solana’s birthday trip back in July.

“This is so nice!” Mickie shouts from the top of the stairs as she and Cameron claim a room. “I love being friends with rich people!”

Solana smiles as Afia shakes her head. “That one is interesting, for sure.”

“Very,” she giggles. One thing Solana was a bit nervous about was inviting Afia, not because she didn’t want her to attend. Hardly. What she was most nervous about was Afia not meshing well with the rest of the ladies who had already met before and vibed well enough. However, that concern was quickly squashed as Solana realized her sister-in-law’s former career of seamlessly blending in just about anywhere is a skill that’s stuck with her.

It didn’t take Afia long to join in with the rest of the gang. So much so that she’ll be sharing a room with Melina. Bayley and Naomi will be rooming together. 

Apparently, no one wanted to share a bed with Solana because, “girl, we know Roman be turning you every way but loose in that bed. We’re good.”

And while her face burned with all of the embarrassment, she couldn’t deny it. That same bed is the same bed her shackles were broken in the most beautiful, memorable manner, and in some ways, she would prefer to keep her space with her husband a space for just them. 

After everyone gets settled into their rooms, there’s almost a universal agreement that the first stop needs to be by the beach. Solana shouldn’t be surprised that arriving at said beach with her friends, via the private entrance from their house, that her husband made arrangements similar to last time to where it’s almost “reserved” just for them.

Something she understands a little bit better this time around. While Roman is not present for this trip, Bautista is, as well as her upped security detail, her husband has obviously setting up parameters to ensure her safety during her stay. For her and for their babies.

Solana feels the most grateful to have such a wonderful, protective man to call her husband.

It’s why she not only has Mickie take some photos of her adorned in her bathing suit, but she also takes some selfies of herself at the beach. Photos that she nervously shares with him, only to receive the most validating and steamy response that makes most sense for her husband. 

Roman: Fuck. 

Roman: You’re making me regret letting your fine ass leave, baby.

Solana: 🙈🙈🙈

Solana: I’ll be home before you know it, papa bear. 🥰

Roman: Not soon enough.

Roman: Send me more photos while you’re there. 

Roman: Can use them for….purposes.

Solana: Roman! 😭

Despite Solana feeling completely flustered at her husband’s dirty intentions for her photos, she absolutely makes a mental note to share any selfies taken during this trip.

And something tells her there’s going to be a fair share. 

“Oh my goodness, are you texting Roman?” Bayley asks, walking over, standing in front of the blanket that Solana is laid on top of. “Tell him to get a fucking life. You’re busy.”

Solana frowns, locking her phone and placing it beside her. “Bayley, be nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “I said I’d try. Shit takes time.”

“Leave her alone,” Mickie pouts, her and Cameron waiting for their sunscreen to set in before entering the beautiful, blue waters. “At least she has a man.”

“I thought you were talking to—”

“Fuck him!” Mickie interrupts Melina, lifting up her middle finger for dramatic effect. “That’s what I get for messing around with someone named Kevin who has a pot belly.”

“Mickie!” Cameron scolds, shaking her head. “That’s not nice. He seemed like a good guy.” 

“Yeah, I thought you liked him,” Solana chimes, remembering their conversations via group chats and group facetimes where Mickie practically raved about the guy she’s been seeing. 

“He was. Too good.” Mickie shrugs, picking at her fingers. “He wanted to settle down eventually.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Afia’s question is posed with pure curiosity versus judgment. A sort of judgment Solana only detects on the face of Naomi who’s been abnormally quiet for the whole conversation. 

Has been quiet since meeting at the airport, now that she thinks about it. 

Mickie leans back on the palm of her hands, answering with a simple, “that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Bayley inquires, coming to sit beside Solana, tiring of standing, the sun beaming down on her back.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, something almost indecipherable flashing in Mickie’s eyes that Solana is almost sure only she, Cameron, and Melina notice. Treatment. It’s a similar look that Mickie would get when they were in treatment. When she was thinking back on something else. 

Something much darker. 

Solana clears her throat, drawing attention to herself as she suggests, “we should all take a picture together.”

“Hell yeah!” Bayley is standing up yet again, as the rest of the women also express some level of excitement for the photo.

“I’ll take em’,” Naomi offers, standing and brushing some sand off the back of her legs.

Solana frowns. “No, you have to be in them.” Solana is more than ready to ask one of the security guards to come snap photos of them to avoid anyone being left out when Naomi reiterates her offer.

“Naw, it’s fine. I’ll catch some other photos.” She shrugs, her face giving away indifference that doesn’t match who Solana has always known her to be. This doesn’t feel like the Naomi Solana has grown to know, love, and view as a sister.

Stepping forward, voice lowered, she asks, “is everything al—”

“Oh my gosh!” Mickie’s excited voice prevents Solana from penning her question, as the attention of all is redirected to the water where Mickie is pointing. “Was that—was that a dolphin?”

Her own question is answered when a dolphin can, in fact, be seen in the distance leaping in and out of the water. It draws the awes and a set of cell phones as to capture the sight before them, but it’s the way Naomi stands off to the side, texting on her phone instead of photographing, that has Solana wondering. 

What’s going on with her?

—--------

“And that was the last time I ever fucked three men in one week,” Mickie finishes, downing the rest of her beer while chuckling. “That yeast infection afterwards was not worth it.”

A round of groans, Melina being the one to express, “Mickie, literally no one needed to hear that.”

“I second that,” Bayley lifts her beer, still halfway full. “Though we appreciate the…..lesson?”

Afia nods, gracefully drinking some of her mimosa. “Yes, lesson seems like an appropriate euphemism.” 

Mickie blinks exactly three times. “Yeah, I’m too buzzed to even try to figure out what that means.”

Afia laughs a little. “Fair.”

Cameron directs her attention to Solana, lifting up the bottle of wine as she pours herself another glass. “Are you sure you don’t want some, Sol?”

“I’m good,” Solana answers, hoping and praying the change in her tone doesn’t give anything away. For good measure, she offers a true, hopefully believable excuse. “The last time I drank wasn’t…..it wasn’t a good time.”

And, while it’s not a total lie, there’s a part of Solana that’s appreciative of that night. The night that seemed to be a turning point for her relationship with Roman. She still doesn’t recall everything that was shared, on either end, but one thing she knows is that next day was the first time she truly felt like they could make this work.

Make their relationship into a real marriage, and not only have they succeeded with that, they’ve taken it a step further by moving to the next step. 

Children. 

Their love has now resulted into the creation of two beautiful lives. 

Solana has to stop herself from placing her hand on her stomach. It’s something Afia seems to notice as she intentionally draws attention to herself. “It’s probably best we don’t let her drink. You all know how that lovely husband of hers is.” 

A sound of agreement, Bayley muttering, “lovely is one way to put it.”

“Bayley…”

She lifts her hands in a defensive manner. “What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Melina says in a sing-song voice. “Granted, I mean, it’s not like you’re entirely wrong.” As Solana gives her the same look she was giving Bayley, defends, “Solana, come on, I met that man months ago, and he still calls me Mandy.”

“He’s not good with names,” Solana murmurs.

“I don’t think he calls me anything,” Afia wonders aloud only to shrug. “Not that I care but still.” 

“Pretty sure he just calls me bitch.” Bayley shares so nonchalantly.

“I don’t think he even knows our names.” Cameron gestures between herself and Mickie. 

“Okay,” Solana cuts in, sitting up on the sofa. “I know….I know Roman can be a little….rough around the edges, but he does mean well.”

Though Solana can’t deny that she agrees with Cameron. Roman really doesn't know their names. But, that’s neither here nor there. 

“No, he doesn’t.” It’s the introduction of a new voice. Naomi. From where she sits on the love chair, almost separate from the other women who are spread among the living room. “Roman is an asshole. A selfish asshole.” 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere. Something that’s clearly palpable given the shared, almost uncomfortable expressions amongst the group of women. 

Except Naomi.

“Roman isn’t an easy person. I get that,” Solana starts, choosing her words carefully. Mindful of the fact that there’s an audience. “But, he’s still my husband.”

Something flashes across Naomi’s face. “Why can’t he be both?”

Building. There’s something that’s been building ever since the group arrived in Isla Mujeres on yesterday afternoon. Something Solana sensed when they were on the beach, as the went shopping in the markets earlier in the day, as they shared dinner at a local, popular restaurant in the evening. And, it’s reaching a head as they all sit in this space, Naomi growing restless and clearly sitting on something she needs to share.

Something Solana is eager to hear.

“Hey!” Mickie cuts in. She seems to be good at that. “You know what we should do?” Eyes focus on her, clearly eager to de-escalate the tension that’s built up and consumed the room. “That TikTok challenge I was telling ya’ll about.”

At that, Melina scoffs. “Mickie, we’re all too old for that.” 

“Speak for yourself,” she rebuffs. “I’m 25 and will keep turning 25 until I decide I’m ready to be 26.” As she hops off the sofa and starts moving the coffee table, Cameron assisting her, Solana looks back over to see Naomi has gotten up and headed out back by the pool. 

Bayley stands and makes eye contact with her cousin, mouthing, “let me talk to her.”

As she leaves out, Solana finds herself appreciative but also something else.

Annoyed. 

She feels annoyed with Naomi. Not only because of her sour attitude on this trip thus far but her comments about Roman. As she stated, Solana knows Roman is not an easy person to deal with. He can be mean, and he can be an asshole at times. These are all things Naomi and even Bayley have said, joked about in the past, but there was something different about this time.

This time, Solana felt an almost sense of anger coming from the other woman.

Personal. 

It felt personal, and she doesn’t like that. 

She doesn’t like it at all. 

A warm hand on her lap pulls Solana’s focus to Afia. Her sister-in-law motions to the phone beside Solana.

Naturally, she grabs it, unsurprised to see an unread text. 

Afia: Can I offer a bit of advice?

Solana: yes. of course. 

Afia: Be careful with that one. Her energy is…..off. Has been since she stepped foot on the jet. 

Afia: Remember, Solana. Not everyone you call a ‘friend’ is actually your friend.

Solana doesn't reply after that, too busy sitting on Afia’s sage wisdom as well as what just transpired. It’s not something Solana didn't already know. That not everyone who claims to be a friend is actually a friend. 

But, what does one do when it’s a sister?

—-------

“I thought that Mona girl was A.” It’s a frustrated acknowledgement followed by a deep scowl as Roman turns to look at Dulce who sits on the sofa beside him. “Who the fuck is Cece?” A rhetorical question to the Pomeranian who lays her head back down and continues to stare at the screen.

Thoroughly disgusted, Roman scoops more of the popcorn in the bowl in his mouth. He grumbles, “I don’t know how your mom watches this shit.”

Roman doesn’t know just why he’s watching this shit, either. Maybe, in some weird way, it makes him feel close to Solana. Helps distract him from her lack of presence. It’s certainly not because he’s interested in this show where the parents have to be the dumbest people alive and these teenage girls sleep with grown men like shit is normal while some psychotic bitch, or bitches, make their lives a living hell. 

And yet, he’s on his second episode after finding himself needing a break from work and something mind-numbing to dull his stress levels.

This certainly does it, Roman thinks to himself.

Uninterested in yet another person who’s supposedly this ‘A,’ Roman grabs his phone, hitting the lock button on the side. And just like that, his irritation is almost instantly melted away. His lock screen photo snagging his attention and filling him with an almost warm feeling. It’s from one of Solana’s OB-GYN appointments. Dr. Sharmell moving the transducer around Solana's stomach, the doctor and his wife's heads turned, focused on the screens where he can make out two figures. Babies.

His babies.

It’s one of his favorite photos. 

Unlocking his phone, Roman navigates to his camera roll where the most recent photos are made up of his wife. Photos and videos she’s shared with him from her trip. A trip she seems to be enjoying the hell out of based on the smile on her pretty face and the joyful laughter that leaves her in most of the videos. 

Roman’s happy. Happy to know that despite her reservations about leaving, she’s having a good time. She deserves that. She deserves the world. 

He’s about to send her a quick text, just to check in on her when the doorbell ringing pulls his focus.

Roman is instantly scowling. He glances at the time in the corner of the screen. Who the fuck is at his house at damn near 6pm?

Dulce is also intrigued, lifting her head and jumping off the sofa. Little body moving towards the door, she stops and turns around to bark at him.

“Coming,” he grunts, sitting up and grabbing the remote to hit pause. Not that it matters. The show is a shitshow anyway. 

Big body carrying him to the front door, Roman doesn’t bother using the peephole, already knowing his security protocol is to only allow Bloodline members through the gate. 

But, it’s when he opens the door that his frown deepens. 

“What the hell are ya’ll doing here?”

Roman doesn’t receive an answer. He instead receives his cousin Ava, walking past him, in his house, uninvited. “Dulce!”

Dulce barks and excitedly wags her tail as Ava picks her up and starts cuddling her. “You are just the cutest lil thing, oh yes you are.”

Roman doesn’t even have time to process his traitorous dog not barking at these damn intruders, because Dwayne is also walking in, slapping him on his back, lifting the six pack of beers in his other hand.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t come empty handed, brotha.”

However, Roman couldn’t give two shits about that. “I’m trying to figure out why ya’ll are here at all.”

Once more, he is deprived of an answer as Dwayne and Ava descend deeper into the house when another entrant arrives. More than one.

Roman’s eyes widen slightly, as he’s forced to look all the way down to two tiny, almost identical humans looking up at him with almost the same surprised, almost familiar expressions. Like he’s seen them before, but where? 

He turns, thankful to see Dwayne is still in the vicinity. Pointing down, Roman asks, needing answers, “what are these?”

But, it’s not Dwayne who answers. “These are my sons, Roman.” The Tribal Chief turns to see yet another uninvited person standing in his doorway. But, Matteo isn’t alone. He’s holding a little girl who shares the same complexion and eyes as her brother, an almost intense gaze set on him. Matteo kisses the little girl’s temple. “And this is my daughter.”

Matteo suddenly reminds, “I suppose I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce you to them at the restaurant that night.”

It’s only when Matteo says as such that Roman remembers he most definitely has seen and, somewhat, met these children before. 

His biological nephews and niece. 

He won’t say it, would never admit it aloud, but there is a sense of shame that fills him at not remembering, because it feels like something he should have remembered.

Right?

Still trying to process the fact that all these people are at and in his house, along with this possibly problematic forgetting, Roman is only partially paying attention when Matteo transitions to name offering. “That’s Giovanni. We call him Gio. And Nino. He likes being called Nio.” A small smile appears on his face as he looks at the still staring little girl. “And this is Hassana, but we call her Sana.” Way too much information for Roman to process. “Kids, this is your cousin, Roman.” Matteo switches to Italian as both boys, almost in synchronization, offer quiet “hello’s.”

Unsure of just what to do and feeling almost pressured to respond, Roman mutters a low, “hi” and redirects his focus to the man in front of him. “What are you all doing here?”

Because, for the life of him, Roman cannot see any good, valid reason why Dwayne, Ava, Matteo and his three children have randomly popped up at his house this evening.

Matteo frowns. “Solana didn’t tell you?”

At that, Roman’s interest is intensely piqued. “Tell me what?”

“This is nice!”

And just like that, this evening has gone from strange to annoying to what the fuck.

Dulce running towards the door draws the attention of the boys whose eyes light up. “Puppy!”

Except, instead of running in terror like she did when confronted with Jey’s children, Dulce seems to bask in the gentle petting and belly rubs received by the boys. Hassana’s attention is also drawn, as she points to the dog, prompting Matteo to walk them over.

His departure paves the way for the appearance of two more faces.

“Hi there, Tribal Chief.” Sami offers a small, little wave. “Sorry to just pop up uninvited.”

“So, why did you?” Roman’s voice is significantly harsher. His technical, biological family being there is one thing, but it’s another for fucking Sami to be standing at his door. “Why are ya’ll here?”

R-Truth’s eyes widen a bit as he answers honestly, “I just came for the ride.”

Sami chuckles nervously, lifting a container of food. “I had some leftover Kibbeh, and Solana mentioned always wanting to try some, so I figured—”

“She’s not here,” Roman interrupts, going to snatch the container. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“Is that a puppy?” R-Truth’s voice is almost childlike as he looks past Roman to see the children still playing with Dulce. “Look at lil Toto!”

“Her name is Dulce,” Roman corrects, but it’s wasted breath, because Truth welcomes himself in Roman’s house, just like everyone else it seems, petting Dulce, asking something about Dorothy.

Whoever the fuck that is.

“Truth, come on, dude,” Sami says, the only one still respecting the Chief’s boundaries by remaining in the doorway. “We’ve gotta—”

“Sami!” Dwayne’s voice is heard again as he walks over, beer in one hand. “What’s up, man? You joining us?”

“No,” Roman answers, quickly. Cause again, what the fuck is going on. “Joining what?”

“The get-together Solana planned.”

Dwayne’s answer aligns with Matteo’s comment about Solana, prompting Roman to pull out his phone, as his older cousin welcomes Sami into the home.

Roman: Solana….what did you do?

Solana: i take it they’ve started arriving 🤭

Roman: Why the fuck are all these people in our house right now, Sol?

Solana: don’t get upset, baby, but i may have arranged a little get-together for you while i’m gone….

Roman: You did WHAT?

Solana: i didn’t want you to be alone the entire time i’m gone, ro! 😭 it’s just one night, baby, and it’s literally only ava, dwayne, and matteo. well, the kids, too, but they’re so sweet and well behaved!

Roman: Solana…

Solana: it’s one night, baby. you can handle one night, ro.

Roman: 20 minutes. They can stay for 20 minutes.

Solana: 😑

Roman: What?

Solana: at least give them an hour, roman, please.

Roman: No.

Solana: roman, please. 😭 for me? Please?

Roman: Fine. An hour.

Solana: thank you, baby. 🥰

Roman: Whatever.

Solana: 😘❤️

—--------

“Roman, baby, calm down. Just take some deep breaths.”

“I am calm.” He is most definitely not calm. Not in the slightest. “Who the fuck do they think they are? I’ll kill all of them!”

“Roman.” Solana sighs, rubbing her temples. Half an hour. It’s been almost a half hour since her husband blew up her phone for the second time tonight, causing her anxiety to spike. She thought something bad had happened at his get-together. That wasn’t the case.

Just not according to him.

The first incident was arguably the most ridiculous thing. Roman was upset, borderline petulant as he ranted about this nice local performer named Joe Hendry who the group of women laughed and interacted with as he performed at the restaurant they were chose for the evening. It was nothing but innocent singing and dancing, some of which was caught on camera. The footage shared by Bayley and Afia, prompting Roman to start texting Solana wanting to know the name of "the fucker" who was "all up" on her.

Joe was, in fact, not on her but rather interacting with the group as a whole. Not that that made a difference to her husband.

So, she had to deescalate that.

And then, there was the second round. The one she's in the middle of now.

Mickie and Bayley, unbeknownst to Solana, uploaded a video of one of the dance challenges she’d done with the girls the other night to Solana's Instagram page. The Tapout challenge, she thinks it’s called. Regardless of the name, it was the dancing, the twerking and throwing of ass she was doing that was shared to her page that has her husband on the brink of a stroke. “You can’t kill people just because they liked my video.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he protests, running his hands through his hair. “This is why I hate this social media shit.”

Right about now, Solana feels the same. “Baby, I made the video private. No one can see it anymore."

“But, they did see it, Solana, and they were liking and….commenting on it with those weird little ass picture things.”

“Emojis, Ro.” Solana closes her eyes. “They’re called emojis, honey.”

He’s dismissive, too wound up and focused on an issue that isn’t even a big issue. “Whatever they’re called, there were hearts and shit. And someone even had the fucking audacity to put a tongue. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Solana has a guess, but she’s not going to give him that supposition. He’s already upset enough. 

She decides to try to redirect the subject. “How was the get-together?”

He shoots her a look that’s more telling than any answer he could give. “The worse fucking night of my life.” Solana rolls her eyes. Her husband can be so dramatic. “All those damn people.”

“Roman, it was literally your family.”

“And?” She shakes her head. While Solana knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, she was hoping he’d get something out of it.

“You mean to tell me the entire night was awful?” And, it’s in posing that question, Solana sees it. Sees something flash in his eyes. “Did—did something happen?”

More hesitation, before he almost reluctantly answers, “I had a….talk with Matteo.”

Solana’s eyes widen. She definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?” Solana shifts on the bed, wanting to give him her full, undivided attention. “How….how was that?”

Roman looks off in the distance, the difficulty he’s having in verbalizing himself evident and visible to his wife. “Wasn’t what I was expecting.” His answer is vague, borderline dismissive, and Solana is prepared to drop it, to tell him he doesn’t have to tell her anything more, when he continues in an almost low voice. “I’ll—I’ll tell you about it when you get home.”

An unexpected offer. One she’s extremely appreciative of. Not even because it’s important for her to know what happened in and with this conversation, but because it means a lot to her that her husband is willing to share that with her. She knows how hard vulnerability is for Roman, so any opportunity she has to provide that safe space for him, she’ll do it. Every single time.

“Okay,” is the answer she settles on, followed by a gentle, “you know I’m always here for you, Ro…..whatever you need.”

“I know.” A simple response and acknowledgment. 

More than enough. 

They talk for another half hour, Solana checking in on him, making sure he’s eating well, sleeping well, taking his meds. The usual. He asks about how her trip has been, any unpleasant pregnancy symptoms, ensuring she doesn’t need him for anything. Again, the usual for them.

Always looking out for each other.

And when their FaceTime call finally ends, Solana feels inclined to send him a text, reminding him once more that she’s available if he needs to talk. About anything. 

But, a soft knock at the door pulls Solana from her mid-typing. She lifts her head to see Afia standing in the doorway, wearing a soft smile, something black folded over her forearm. “Busy?”

She shakes her head, waving her head. “Not at all. Come in.”

Afia does so, closing the previously cracked door behind her. She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “Everything alright?”

Solana nods, a small smile on her face. “He’s fine. Just being Roman.” Looking her over, she has to ask, “are the kids okay?”

It’s always a wonderful thing to see how Afia’s face lights up whenever Solana mentions or asks about her children. “Yes. They miss me, of course, but they love their dad, so they’re managing just fine.”

Solana believes that. Believes that just as Afia is a wonderful, attentive, caring mother, Matteo is just the same as a father. She saw how the kids flocked to him at the party, boys roughhousing with their dad, while Sana laid her little head against his chest when she became tired. It’s obvious what a wonderful, close-knit family they are.

“I hope Roman and I can have what you have with your kids,” she confesses, quietly. Because, she does. Because what Solana wants more than anything for her children is for them to be happy. To give them the childhood she and Roman never got to have.

“You will,” Afia affirms. “It’ll be even better than what we have.” The reassurance ignites a warm, appreciative smile on Solana’s face when her sister-in-law hands her the black item. “Which is why I had to get this for you.” Slightly confused, Solana accepts the item. “Or maybe I should say Roman.”

Eager for clarification, Solana lifts and opens up what she realizes is a shirt. A gasp. “Afia!” Solana is instantly laughing, scoffing in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

The Nigerian woman chuckles. “I did. I saw your face light up when you saw it.” Solana continues to look at the large black shirt that reads “Real Men Make Twins” in Spanish. A shirt she’d seen when the group went out shopping earlier. “It was obvious you wanted it, but I know you couldn’t get it without drawing suspicion. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about that.”

Solana brings the shirt to her chest, hugging it, imagining Roman wearing said shirt. Wearing the shirt while holding their twin daughters. “Thank you, Afia.”

Solana reaches and hugs the other woman who murmurs into her ear, “you’re welcome.” As the two separate and Solana once again finds herself in awe over the thoughtful gesture, Afia inquires, “everything still going good?”

Nodding, the mother-to-be offers, “yes. According to my doctor, it’s only a matter of time before I start showing.” Not soon enough though, to Solana. She knows she’s pregnant, but there’s something about being able to physically see that she’s pregnant is what she’s looking forward to the most.

Afia chuckles. “You’re three months, right?” Solana nods, and Afia chuckles. “Oh, yes. Twins, too? Yes. you’ll wake up one morning and find a whole ass baby bump.”

Curious, Solana questions, “is that how it was for you?”

Afia nods. “For both my pregnancies. On a Monday, I woke up with abs. By Wednesday morning, I was showing.”

While there’s a bit of faux irritation in her voice in describing her experience, Solana finds excitement growing within her. 

She can’t wait to experience that for herself.

And with Roman, too.

Eager to pry Afia’s brain for something Solana has been thinking about the past couple weeks, as well as knowing a conversation happened between their husbands tonight, she shifts on the bed. “Hey, can I ask—”

A knock on the door interrupts the asking of said question as Solana quickly hides the shirt behind her pillow before calling out. “Come in.”

Afia turns just in time to see Naomi turn the knob and open the door. Solana is watching the whole time, so she sees the way Naomi’s small smile drops into a straight line.

Clearing her throat, Solana maintains her smile. “Hey.” She moves over on the bed and pats the spot next to her. “Come join us.”

Naomi shakes her head, that same almost negative energy that’s surrounded her the whole trip so far, permeating the atmosphere. “That’s alright.”

Afia moves to get up. “I can leave, if you’d prefer—”

“I said, that’s alright,” Naomi cuts her off, both Afia and Solana wearing partially shocked expressions by her abruptness. “Just forget it.”

As she turns to leave, there’s another turn that happens. Not literally, like Naomi’s departure from the room, but something abstract and almost metaphorical.

The knob that exists within Solana regarding her emotions. The dial between patience and impatience, and right now, Solana is leaning much toward the latter than the former.

Untangling her legs from the bed, she mutters to Afia, “I’ll be right back.”

Afia says something, but Solana isn’t listening, too focused, too frustrated, too pissed.

Moving down the hall, she’s grateful to find Naomi’s door cracked and the room void of Bayley, who’s clearly still out back by the pool with Cameron and Mickie.

Closing it behind her to secure privacy, Solana gets right to it. “Okay, what is your problem?” As Naomi stands on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, pacing almost, Solana continues. “You’ve been off this entire trip. Distant as heck, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Distant is a nice way to put what Solana really wants to say, the not so nice word that comes to mind remaining in the safe confines of her mind.

Naomi, however, shakes her head. “This isn’t the place.”

Solana couldn’t disagree more. “I think this is exactly the place.” Crossing her arms, she asks again, tone a bit softer. “Naomi, please….talk to me.”

That, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say. “Talk to you?” She smiles, but there’s nothing happy or comical about it. “You want me to talk to you? Why? Why should I when you’ve been damn MIA for months now?”

Solana finds herself frowning. “What–what are you talking about?”

Her head tilts back, as she moves to pinch her nose. “Solana, for months now, you’ve been acting weird. One minute, we’re hearing from you, the next, I can’t even get a text back. One minute, we’re training a couple times a week. Now, I don’t know the last time I saw you at the Warehouse. Unanswered texts then a random ass invite to dinner where all you can talk about is Roman and how you’ve been trying to help him, while also putting me in an uncomfortable position by asking me to keep secrets from Jimmy.”

“Naomi, I didn’t—”

“And then after scheduling and canceling this girls trip 5011 times, you finally have it, and you’re acting like everything’s fine and dandy when it’s not. Things are a mess right now, Solana, and in every version I’ve heard of what happened, you are the nucleus of every story.”

Solana knew something was going on with Naomi, but she could have never anticipated what she’s hearing would come out of the woman’s mouth. “What—what are you talking about?”

Another wrong thing to say. “You seriously don’t know?” Solana doesn’t have to answer, because Naomi is already onto explanations. “Roman kicked Rikishi, Jey, and Solo out of his inner circle. Demoted them all.” 

Eyes widening, Solana only has one word oscillating in her mind, a word that escapes. “What?”

“Yes,” Naomi scoffs, crossing her arms. “Whatever happened with you and Rikishi a couple months ago is something Roman clearly isn’t over, or maybe his pride is wounded—”

“Do you know what happened?” Solana finds herself asking, interrupting, irritation starting to bubble again. She doesn’t like Naomi’s almost accusatory tone. “What he tried to do?”

Naomi shakes her head and presses her fingers to her temple.  “Solana, I love you. I promise I do, but right now, I don’t care what happened, because whatever it was has spiraled into this big mess.” She blows out a breath, laying it all out. “Jey is pissed with Roman, and I have to hear about it every day since Roman has him helping me train new recruits. Jimmy hears it the most though. He’s so torn with this whole thing. Being put in a position where he feels like he has to pick between his actual brothers and the man he always viewed as a brother. He’s been so stressed out, and it’s affecting our marriage, Solana.” 

Each sentence is like a slice into Solana’s heart, because underneath Naomi’s frustration, she sees it, she feels it. The hurt.

Naomi is hurt behind it all. 

“And don’t get me wrong, Jey was wrong for that scene he pulled at the restaurant and even at your welcome home party, but Roman is wrong for taking this all so personal and responding the way he has.”

That. 

That, however, is the comment that makes Solana’s compassion dwindle just a bit.

“I didn’t know Roman had demoted them, Naomi. I—I didn’t.” She truly didn’t, and while a part of her wishes her husband had told her about this, she can understand why he didn’t. The same reason she’s prepared to point out to Naomi. “But, his hands are tied. Jey—Jey has been out of control lately. What was Roman supposed to do? He had to make a call, and he made it.”

Naomi cuts her eyes to the ceiling. “He made the wrong call though, Solana.”

“According to who?” 

“Roman is the Tribal Chief,” Solana defends, uncrossing her arms. “He did what he did because it was best for the Bloodline—”

“Roman did what was best for you, Solana!” Naomi cuts her off, voice raised, borderline a shout. Solana is quiet, still trying to process just what’s transpiring. “He felt like you were disrespected, and he couldn’t have that, so he made it about you.”

A heavy, loaded pause followed by an almost whispered question. “You–you think all this is my fault?”

It’s clear that Naomi is heedful with her answer, each word carefully chosen. “I think a lot of Roman’s decision making has been based upon what’s best for you and him, not what’s good for the Bloodline, and if you can’t see that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

But regardless of the methodical wording, it’s painfully obvious that it could all be summarized to one, telling word.

Yes.

Yes, she does think this is Solana’s fault.

Similarly, the younger woman is also careful in her wording. Finding that balance between assertive and validating. “You’re upset, and I get that. You’re allowed to be upset. It’s not fair. And, I really am so sorry that what’s happening is not only happening but affecting you and Jimmy.” All of that is just as true as the next portion of her thought-out response. “But, I will not allow you to put this on me. You know better than most people how much I struggled with blaming myself for things, so I am not going to let you bring me back to that headspace.” Tears brim in Solana's eyes for a variety of reasons, because of the small ways that she already has been taken to that space.

Glimpses of all the times blame was laid toward her. Largely from Xavier and Wesley. From the most mundane things, like breakfast not being ready on time, all the way up to being told it was her fault she was raped because she didn't "fight hard enough."

She was blamed for all the things no one should be blamed for.

Never again.

Never will she allow that to be the case.

Not even with someone she considers a sister. 

Guilt and a sense of sadness gleams in Naomi’s soft brown eyes. “Solana, I didn’t mean—”

“You should leave.”

A pregnant pause. “What?”

Solana swallows, doing her best to keep the tears at bay. “It’s obvious you feel some type of way about me right now, about Roman, and I–I have to respect that. I will, but you have to respect that I can’t have that kind of energy around me right now. It’s not fair to me or any of the other girls.”

It isn’t. Naomi’s attitude has been a thing noticed and commented on not only by herself but Afia, Mickie, and even Cameron, who normally doesn’t like to comment on things like that. And, it’s clear that said attitude isn’t going away anytime soon, because there’s a lot that needs to be discussed and worked through. None of which Solana is interested in doing right now or at any point on this trip. 

She’s got enough on her plate. 

“I’ll have Bautista make arrangements for you to use the jet to fly back in the morning—”

“Seriously, Solana?” Naomi scoffs, her face a mixture of several emotions. “You’re really doing this?”

“I don’t want to do this, Naomi.” She really doesn’t. This is the last outcome she expected when walking into this room. “But—but I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t want to.” She wipes at a tear that’s managed to escape, gliding down her cheek. “When I get back home, you and I can talk one on one, because you do deserve clarity and answers. I just….I don’t want to do it right now.”

Naomi just looks at her. “Wow.” There’s a tension and heaviness that travels through the room, settling on the walls, making itself at home, dwelling in the roots of discord that have been planted. “After everything we’ve been through, the friendship, the sisterhood we have, this is how you’re treating me?”

“Naomi.” Solana closes her eyes. It seems like this somehow becomes more and more complicated, twisted, and messy with every second that passes. “I want to figure this out with you, make things right, because you mean so much to me. You are my sister. My best friend, but I—I just need you to understand that mentally, I can’t do this right now.” Repeating of the same thing, just with elaboration and vulnerability. A certain amount of it, because what Solana really wants to say is stress is something she can’t have due to her pregnancy.

A pregnancy Naomi still doesn’t know about. 

A pregnancy, as much as it pains her to think it, Solana is somewhat happy Naomi doesn’t know about.

Because with what’s been said, the distance and tension that exists between them, Solana doesn’t know if the woman she considered, still considers to be a sister, would be happy for her. 

And, that hurts.

It hurts like hell. 

—---------

Solana feels sick, and for the first time in months, it has nothing to do with the children growing inside of her and everything to do with the past, present, and future.

She has no idea how long she’s been in the shower. Long enough for her fingers to prune and sweat to form on her forehead from the steam of the borderline scorching water. A small smile forms on her face recalling a shower she took with her husband before leaving for her trip, Roman’s scowl as he stepped in the water and cursed almost immediately from the temperature.

“Solana, what the hell? Are you trying to fucking burn us?”

It’s a memory that makes her laugh. For someone so serious, her husband might be one of the funniest people she knows.

But just as quickly as her smile was there, it’s wiped away as she’s reminded once more that that was then, and this is now. Roman isn’t here. Because she told him she didn’t need him. Told him she could do this on her own, and she can, but she can’t. A wicked dichotomy that’s resulted in nothing but overthinking and ruminating over the past few hours.

Catastrophizing, as Gail would call it. Playing out the worst case scenario, and both believing and accepting it as true. It’s exactly what she’s done. What she’s been doing. 

And to her credit, Solana does her best to utilize the techniques she’s learned in therapy when situations like this arrive, but this particular occurrence is a more challenging one, because all Solana wants to do is climb back in bed and forget about the whole thing.

And, she could. Solana knows that no one can make her do this. Roman would especially encourage her to do what feels most right to her. What she’s comfortable with. But, the reality is that what’s comfortable isn’t what’s always right. She needs to do this. Solana knows she needs to do this, but damn, is she terrified.

That’s the future concern. Then, there’s the past.

The conversation, borderline argument, with Naomi that had Solana so messed up, Bayley happened to walk by and overheard her crying in her room, prompting her cousin to come see what was wrong. Solana didn’t provide specifics, didn’t want to make Bayley feel like she was in the middle of things, but she did share that they’d had a disagreement and Naomi was leaving in the morning.

To say that situation didn’t fuck with her mentally would be a lie.

Naomi means so much to Solana. She’s a best friend and a sister, one of the first Solana has had in her entire life. It guts her to know Naomi feels the way she does and is going through what she is. That the mess with the Bloodline is now impacting her marriage with Jimmy.

Solana especially hates that. They’ve always had such a strong union, a wonderful dynamic. To know that’s not the case anymore, at least right now, is rough. 

And, then there’s the whole Bloodline dynamic. Solana had no idea Roman had dismissed and demoted the three men. He didn’t tell her, and she knows why he didn’t, doesn’t blame him, per se. But, damn, once again, something else on her husband’s plate he’s been dealing with alone. 

She hates that.

Hates that she didn’t know, even if she gets why he probably didn’t keep her in the loop.

But, still.

Eventually, after recognizing it’s only a matter of time until someone comes looking for her, Solana actually completes her shower and steps out, wrapping the towel around her body. She uses another smaller towel to clear a chunk of the mirror from the accumulated condensation, granting her a view of herself. Eyes falling to the counter where her toiletries are spread, a blush climbs up to her cheeks as she’s hit with another memory. 

Propped up on the counter, her husband’s face buried in between her legs before he carried her to their bedroom and made love to her. Her birthday trip. The days after when they’d been intimate for the first time, a door opening that Solana never intends to allow anyone to ever force her to have shut anymore.

But, as was the case with the shower memory, the recollection of a steamier encounter is no match for her anxiety, because she’s right back to overthinking. Overthinking the conversation with Naomi but especially the conversation she’s supposed to have in a matter of hours.

Right back to picturing the worst case ever when it comes to something she initially believed could go okay. And, there’s a part of her that knows this. Knows that the most realistic outcome will be okay.

So, why can’t she just focus on that instead of visions and flashes of being called a liar, screamed at, sent away, rejected?

Solana swallows the lump in the back of her throat and proceeds to carry on with her routine. Dental hygiene, styling her hair, applying deodorant and her body oils and creams. No makeup. She’s certain tears will be shed for one reason or another, and having black streaks down her face doesn’t sound like a fun time.

None of it does, but that’s a small thing that’ll only exacerbate things. 

Solana sprays her Delina perfume, a gift from Roman, on her pulse points and lightly taps her wrists together before reaching for her bra, underwear, and gray dress she’d picked. A pick she’s also now questioning, because what if it’s too revealing? Truth be told, with her large chest, anything she wears could fall into the “revealing” category, especially as she’s noticed some slight changes in her body in the past few weeks. Breast slightly bigger, hips a little wider. All symptoms of her pregnancy, certainly, but still noticeable, nonetheless.

Granted, Isla Mujeres is hot as hell, so too much clothing will certainly attract too much heat and make her sweat. Her dress is most appropriate given the weather, just maybe not the occasion. 

Frustrated with yet another issue her brain has made an issue, Solana dresses herself, unable to keep the tears at bay. Droplets sliding down her face, she rubs them away with all of the frustration growing inside of her. Try as hard as she does to push it back, Solana can’t deny the growing difficulty she’s having in not at least texting or calling her husband. 

She doesn’t need him here, per se, so she thinks, but hearing his voice, or even his reassuring messages could make a huge difference. 

But, he’s busy. She knows he’s busy, especially after what she learned last night. Roman is always busy, and yet, he always makes time for her. He’s done it a tremendous amount of times ever since learning of the pregnancy, so much so that she feels bad putting this on him as well. 

She just needs to deal with this on her own, even though she’s not alone. She’s surrounded by friends who would love and support her. But, there’s just something different about her husband. His support hits harder, feels stronger. It’s truly the balm she needs in most situations. 

Just not in this one. 

She’ll have to deal.

It’s a realization Solana begrudgingly comes to accept when she grabs her phone off the counter and opens the door to head back into her room. Except, the minute she does, that same phone she just picked up is now on the plush carpet of the master bedroom, and the tears brewing are pushed over the edge.

Solana opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Words aren’t what she wants right now. What she wants is to be in her husband’s warm embrace, and that’s exactly what she does.

Her feet quickly carry her across the room where she flings herself into Roman’s waiting arms from where he sits on the edge of their bed. The force of the collision forces him back on the bed, but she doesn’t care. She prefers it. Prefers lying atop him, his big, strong arms wrapped protectively around her as she nuzzles her face into his neck.

This was the last thing Solana expected. For Roman to be here, to surprise her by popping up in Mexico. 

She doesn’t know why he’s here or how he even knew to come, but she doesn’t question it. Doesn’t question it at all.

Because it’s exactly what she needed.

Solana feels his warm lips pressed against her temple, the way one hand soothes along the length of her back and the other palms her ass. Placement that’s calming in a way only he can achieve. She’s clutching him, basking in the relief he brings when his deep voice rumbles in her ear. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

A lot. There’s a lot Solana could bring up to him right now, namely the Bloodline situation, but that’s less of a pressing issue than the one she has to face in a few hours.

One thing at a time.

A sad smile against him followed by a quiet confession. “I don’t think I can do this, Ro.” 

He sighs. “Sol…”

Solana also sighs and reluctantly shifts so she’s no longer hugging him but propped up on one elbow, other hand on his chest as she looks down at him. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or—or rejects me?” Roman reaches his hand to brush away some of her tears. “I just….I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Solana, why would she reject you?” His question is posed with all the consideration and care. “She already likes you. Hell, she probably already loves you.”

“But, Roman….” And it’s only then, the deeply buried fear, the core belief that drives so much of Solana’s doubt and fear is revealed. “Her daughter’s dead because….because of me.” She closes her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip to try to contain the second set of tears. “What….what if she blames me?”

It’s a scary but true thing to admit aloud, to verbally express something she herself struggled with for years. Blaming herself for her mother’s murder, and while Solana is still trying to work through, largely with therapy, her now confusing feelings toward her mother, the fact of what happened and how it’s impacted her remains unchanged.

It’s still and will probably always be something she has a bit of self-blame about. 

A sort of blame she fears she’ll receive from Paloma.

“Solana…” Roman sits up and adjusts them, tugging her onto his lap so she’s straddling him, hands on her hips. “You were a child. Do you honestly think she will blame you for what happened?” He doesn’t offer time for her to answer, transitioning to his next set of questions. “That she’d be upset to find out that she has a granddaughter? That she has some living, remaining connection to her daughter?” One of Roman’s hands shifts to Solana’s stomach, moving in small circles. “That she’s going to be angry at finding out you’re going to make her a great-grandmother?” 

As always, his words and nonverbal gestures are comforting and soothing, dwindling down her anxiety. “She already loves you. This isn’t going to change that. If anything, it might make it stronger.” 

The explanation is effective, chipping away and dismantling her fears, replacing it with something similar to confidence. Most logical outcome trumping worst case scanrios. 

“You’re right,” she murmurs after a few minutes of mulling over all of his counterpoints. Solana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I—I can do this.”

“Of course, you can,” he encourages, lifting her chin to bring her gaze onto him. “Do you want me to go with you?”

A part of her wants to say yes, another part wants to say no. One overpowers the other. “Yes.”

He doesn’t have to come inside, doesn’t even have to leave the car. Just having his presence right before will be enough.

Solana leans forward and hugs him, eyes shutting. “Thank you.”

His response is a kiss to her cheek and the reiteration of his mantra when it comes to her. Always. “I’ve got you.”

—---------

There's brief discussion who should accompany Solana to go see Paloma. Initially, it was going to be Bayley, but with Roman now present, as well as not wanting to give anything away before Solana can explain, it's settled that it'll just be Solana and Roman.

And, she's grateful for him. Holds his hand the entire drive there and basks in the comforting way he kisses her after helping her out of the SUV.

She's even grateful for the little nod Bautista gives her, before she moves down the stone path to the front door. He obviously doesn't know the specifics, but he knows enough to know she's about to do something important.

Something potentially life-changing and terrifying. All of which overwhelms her and slams her in the face as she nervously knocks on the door.

But, it's the minute that the door opens, Solana is immediately engulfed by a burst of warm, loving energy.

“Solana.” Paloma’s smile is wide and welcoming as she claps her hands on the apron around her waist before stepping over the mantle and welcoming her into a tight embrace. Initially, there’s discomfort on Solana’s end, not from the physical gesture but from the fact that it’s here. That she’s finally here. “It’s so good to see you, child.”

The second introductory statement pushes down some of the anxiety, Solana able to lean into the embrace, accepting it, allowing the energy to transfer over to her.

Paloma squeezes her once more before stepping back, surveying her almost. “Look at your hair.” She reaches for the ends, complimenting, “you look good, Solana.”

“Thank you,” is Solana’s quiet response, as Paloma looks over her shoulder.

“Is he….”

Solana does the same, seeing Roman leaning back against the SUV, dark shades covering his eyes, muscled arms crossed. Waiting. He’s waiting for her signal. A sign that she’s okay.

And, she gives him that, gives him that nod of approval. Roman gives her a small nod as well, moving to talk to Bautista who stands a few feet away and will remain with her, patrolling the outside premises with her security detail.

“No,” Solana finally answers, turning back to Paloma. “Not—not this time.”

Because, if this doesn’t go horribly wrong, Solana is hoping for more interaction between her husband and the woman who is her biological grandmother.

Even if Paloma doesn’t know it just yet.

Being inside of Paloma’s home is….it’s an experience. It’s an experience, because judging by the wear and tear on some of the walls, the almost dated styling of the hacienda home, Solana would guess that she’s lived here for some time. 

Long enough to raise a family. 

Or at the very least, a child. 

A child who grew up to be a woman. A woman who had her own children, Solana being one of those children.

“Tea?” Paloma holds up the teapot from where she stands by the stove in her kitchen. Small, warm tones, floral designs and a welcoming atmosphere. Much like the rest of her home.

Solana offers a polite decline. “No thank you.” She starts to ask what the tea is but ultimately decides against it, not wanting to risk anything. “Thank—thank you for having me.”

Paloma gives her a look. “Child, please. I’ve been waiting for this.” Paloma prepares her own cup of tea, adding just a bit of honey and a pinch of spices. “I’ve been worried about you.”

An expected thing. Solana knows her contact with Paloma has been abysmal since their initial meeting a few months back, and though not without good reason, it’s still something she feels bad about.

As Paloma sits down across from her, stirring her tea, she asks, gaze assessing. “How have you been?”

Such a simple question with a loaded, heavy answer. It’s not something Solana hasn’t thought about, twisted and turned in bed over, trying to settle on just how much she wanted to share of what’s transpired.

“It….it’s been a lot,” she finally answers after a minute or two of silence. “After…after I left here and went back home, some….some things happened, and I—my mental health got really bad.” Solana’s gaze falls to her lap as she pulls at the material of her dress, needing a distraction from the fluttering in her chest. Anxiety. “I—I was in the hospital and a treatment facility for a while.”

“Solana….”

“I’m better now,” she answers, eyes closing, reminding herself that where she was is far from where she is now. And, she’s never going back to that dark place. “I’m…significantly better.”

Paloma’s mug sits on the table, mostly untouched. She reaches over, placing a hand on top of Solana’s. “I’m so sorry.” Her warm eyes twinkle with concern. “I had a feeling something was going on with you. I’ve been praying for you. Praying for peace.”

“Thank you,” Solana murmurs. She’s not sure anyone’s ever said anything of the sort to her before. “I—I appreciate that. It….it means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” The older woman squeezes her hand, asking almost urgently.  “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?”

And, there it is. The moment that Solana has both dreaded and waited for for some time now. A door being opened and paving way for her to fulfill a task that she’d give anything to push off for as long as she can, even if, deep down, she knows it’s not the right thing to do. She can’t keeping avoiding the inevitable.

It’s time.

“I—” Solana takes a deep breath. I can do this. “I—I have something I need to talk to you about. Something….something I need to tell you.” Solana swallows, doing her best to remain as open and vulnerable as she can. It’s more than needed in a situation as heavy and layered as this. “And the truth….the truth is that I’m terrified about how you’re going to respond.”

Paloma gaze shifts into something almost unreadable. “Solana, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine, child. Please. Just tell me.”

So much easier said than done. Solana looks away, blowing out a deep breath. “I—I never knew a lot about my mother’s side of the family. She never….she never really spoke about them.” And now that Solana knows the full backstory, she can’t be upset with her mother for it. Other things, yes, but not that. “I—I always wondered though.” Trembling hands reach into the purse that sits in the seat next to her, pulling out two items. An envelope and a polaroid photo turned downward. “When I was—I was going through and reorganizing some of my mom’s old journals, I found a letter she wrote me….before she passed.” Her voice dips with all the emotion that still accompanies that moment when she not only found the letter but read said letter. “And, it shared a lot. So much information that I didn’t know but now know, and it’s been hard for me finding out what I did.” A lot of her sessions with Gail since then revolving around Solana processing and working through all of the information. “But, the most important thing I gained from the letter was finding out more about her, her family….my family. And….” It’s been some time since Solana has felt this anxious, the only comparison that feels most equivalent being the night Roman found out about her pregnancy and Fetu’s letter. “If….if you’d like to read the letter—”

“No,” Paloma interrupts, her voice somehow both firm and gentle. “That—that’s too personal, Solana. Your mother most likely intended it to be for your eyes only. I could never…” She trails off, caught off guard by how Solana carefully stands from her seat and moves over to her knees in front of her. “Solana, what are you—”

“Please believe me when I say I had no idea who you were when we met. I didn’t—I didn’t know the truth then, and I’m sorry for—”

“Solana.” Gentle hands move to cup her face, Solana just now realizing that she’s crying and on the verge of an anxiety attack. “What is it?”

Solana closes her eyes. It’s time.

Licking her lips, ignoring the massive weight that feels like it’s settled upon her chest, she lifts her hand, sliding the envelope and polaroid across the table in front of Paloma. Verbal directions are unnecessary as the still very confused and very concerned older woman lowers her hands from Solana’s face to take the items she’s been handed.

Solana expects her to go for the envelope first.

She doesn’t.

She lifts up the polaroid first.

And, the minute she does, a loud, almost violent gasp leaves her. One hand over her mouth, her eyes are glued to the photo, her shoulders almost trembling. Nothing is said, and the seconds that pass are filled with every bit of anxiety and tension that Solana also feels coursing through her entire body.

“Where…..” Paloma’s voice is shaky, her eyes now watering as she looks over at Solana. “Where did you get this photo?”

“I’ve always had it,” Solana is also trembling, her voice wavering. “It’s one of my favorite photos….” No greater fear has filled Solana than waiting for whatever follows the next statement that leaves her mouth. “Of my mother.”

The gasp that emits from Paloma’s mouth this time is louder, heavier, and significantly more emotional. She drops the picture onto the table, moving her hands to look at Solana, to really look at her.

Like she’s doing so for the first time.

And, in many ways, she is.

“I always thought you looked like my Alma,” Paloma cries. “But, I didn’t say anything, because after she disappeared, I almost lost my mind, and I—I saw her in every young woman, and I just thought….” She closes her eyes, crying harder. “I can’t believe after all these years…..” Another gasp, hiccupped almost request. “Please….I must know…what happened to my daughter? What did he do to her?”

And in everything Solana feared about this moment, this is the part that frightened her the most. The moment she fears will change everything in the most awful of ways.

But, the truth is something that frees, liberates, and deserves to be voiced. 

Paloma deserves to know what happened. 

“When....when I was still a child, she came up with....with a plan....” Speaking is such a trepidatious thing to to do, but somehow, someway, Solana powers through it. “She was trying….she was trying to get us out of there, to….to escape my father.” Solana will never again consider Xavier her father, but thinking back to the letter, how her mother shared he lied about his identity, she knows using the name Xavier will only be confusing. Bring about more questions. And, she will answer them. But, right now, answering the question at hand is the most important thing. “But, he—he found out—” Solana sniffles, unable to settle her tears or any of the heavy emotions that accompany this weighty moment. “And, he sent—he sent men to kill us.”

Paloma’s eyes shut. “Oh my God….”

“She died protecting me,” Solana shares, the memory of her mother’s dead body atop of her returning to the front of her mind, bringing about a fresh new set of tears. “She’s—she’s dead because of me, and I’m so sorry—” She's unable to finish her sentence, too wrecked by her sobs, head falling as she covers her face. Overwhelmed with the guilt that she feels will always lie within, dormant at times, active at others.

Never to fully go away.

Paloma moves her hands to Solana’s wrist, carefully lowering her hands as she once again cups her face. “No, child.” She shakes her head, affirming with all the conviction. “What happened was not your fault.” Words that Solana heard for the first time, in a long time, for her husband. That, in many ways, changed her life. Now being repeated again by her grandmother in yet another life changing moment. “Solana….” Her smile is sad, her soul clearly heavy, but her determination unwavering. “There exists no greater act of love for a mother than to lay down her life in order to save her child.” She wipes away Solana’s tears. “And that’s exactly what my Alma did.” Solana closes her eyes, hand falling to her stomach. “She died just as she lived.” Her voice catches. “With love.”

Love.

The emotion that’s most dominant in this moment, settling over and overpowering any trace of fear and doubt and any other negative feeling Solana expected to encounter. The rejection she expected to receive in the face of the truth.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Head falling into Paloma’s lap, Solana sobs. She sobs from the loss of her mother, from the reunification of her family, from the everything that this moment of truth has brought her, and from the love that overwhelms her. 

“My granddaughter.” Paloma leans over, crying and kissing the back of Solana’s head, holding her, cradling her with an unrelenting grip. Like she won’t let go. Like she’ll never let go. “My beautiful, beautiful, nieta….”

--------

translation:

nieta = granddaughter

[cherubkissesx]

only angel

pairing: bau!f reader x spencer reid

summary: in which reader is part of the bau and has to go undercover as an exotic dancer in order to catch the unsub. but the reader has been hiding lots of tattoos underneath her seemingly innocent facade. spencer goes to readers hotel room afterwards after holding in his feelings for so long.

warnings: violence, smut, oral (f receiving) unprotected p in v (wrap it up!!!!)

a/n: hey guys i hope you enjoy this quick little one shot!! this is inspired by the song only angel by harry styles :) also this is my first attempt at writing smut so i hope this good lmao

this is the song i imagined playing in the club lol

you and team gathered into the conference room in the local police station to go over the case you were all assigned to once again. the unsub had been killing exotic dancers and the amount of overkill was increasing with each body that was getting discovered.

“this unsub is progressing at rapid speed, we keep missing him each time we go out into the field. we have no other option but to send someone to go undercover as one of the dancers.” hotch said sighing.

everyone’s heads immediately turned round to you. jj was a mom and couldn’t risk it, emily was deemed “too old” to be a dancer but you were the youngest.

“you’re the only right person for this, y/n.” emily said. “i don’t want to mess it up what if im not convincing enough?” you questioned as you felt your face flush. “you’ll do great!” penelope chimed in.

“if you really don’t feel comfortable we can find someone else.” hotch said not pressuring you. “no.. no it’s fine.” you smiled shakily and he nodded.

****

“i feel so weird.” you said to emily as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. your hair was curled, you felt like you had a ton of makeup on, and you were wearing a shimmery pink bralette and booty shorts your tattoos that you had been hiding on full display.

“you look hot.” emily reassured. “also your tattoos are great, i didn’t know you had all of these.” emily said her eyes trailing up and down your body. you had a tiger tattoo on your stomach and a big flower tattoo down your spine. “thank you” you blushed.

emily had fixed your earpiece for you so your team could hear everything you were saying.

“are you ready?” emily asked and you nodded and walked out. you noticed all your team situated at different points in the bar. you strutted confidently up to the stage.

you weren’t much of a dancer but you thought may aswell give it your all, and thats exactly what you did. you copied all the other dancers and eventually got caught up in doing it and realised how easy it was as your hips swayed to the music. you had taken some pole dancing classes in the past so you decided to get on the pole and try it again and you were surprised when you noticed you hadn’t forgotten the skill.

your eyes darted around the room to look for your team and saw them all staring back at you with wide eyes, you chuckled to yourself.

you scanned the room for the unsub and you finally zeroed in on him. you recognised him immediately from the sketch that a surviving victim had provided. “i see him.” you whispered. your team was about to approach him to arrest him. “hold off. i have a plan” you said again and you saw your team looking confused.

you met your unsubs eyes and you made a motion with your finger indicating for him to follow you.

your set was over so you sauntered off stage to go to the back. “y/n someone wants to see you” the club manager said who was in on your plan to catch the unsub.

you walked to the back to where sure enough the unsub was sitting on a couch waiting for you.

“oh! hey” you smiled sweetly. “hello darling, i saw you dancing up on that stage and had to come meet you personally, you were phenomenal” the unsub said. “thank you” you smiled.

“what’s your name?” he asked. you didn’t want to give him your real name so you gave him a fake one. “angel.” you lied. “very fitting.” he said noticing the angel tattoo on your thigh.

“how much money would it cost me for me to have sex with you?” the unsub said sickly now practically pinning you to the wall. “i’m sorry but i don’t have sex with customers” you said a bit shakily. “what if i beg?” the unsub said now grabbing your hand and pinning it above your head. “i said no!” you said pushing him off you.

“bitch!” the unsub said angrily and he grabbed your hair and bashed your face into the wall. you felt blood trickling down your nose.

“fbi put your hands up!” derek said as him and the rest of the team burst into the room. “are you okay?” spencer said immediately rushing to you as your team arrested the unsub. “i will be” you smiled as you tried to catch your breath.

“i’m taking you to get checked over” spencer said putting his arm around your shoulder towards the ambulance. “spencer im fine” you said trying to reassure him to which he just stared at you disbelievingly. “fine” you chuckled.

“here” spencer said giving you his jacket to put over yourself as it was freezing. “will you stay with me? just until i’m finished being checked over” you asked nervously and you saw spencer’s whole face soften. “of course” he said sitting down next to you.

once you were checked over you and spencer both made your way over to the rest of the team. “everyone great work today, especially you y/n. without you who knows if we would’ve caught this unsub” hotch said. “thank you sir” you blushed.

“since it’s late why don’t we all go back to the hotel room and get some rest and leave in the morning” hotch offered. “agreed” jj said and you and the rest of the team nodded.

“i didn’t know you had tattoos y/n?” derek said when you were all walking up to each of your rooms. “you didn’t ask” you chuckled. “and we all thought you were the innocent one” derek said.

****

you were about to shower when you heard a knock at your hotel door. you looked at the time to see that it was 3 in the morning and wondered who would be calling at this time.

“spencer! hi” you said in shock when you opened the door. “come in” you said stepping to the side to let him in.

“are you alright?” you asked subtly wrapping your arms around yourself when he kept staring at you and not saying anything. “i can’t stop thinking about you” spencer said suddenly which made you stop in your tracks.

you had had the most hopeless crush on spencer since your first day at the bau but never thought those feelings would be reciprocated.

“and it wasn’t just because of today but i’ve liked you for a long time and i think about you all the time. you looked so breathtaking today” spencer said moving closer to you. “those dance moves… fuck it was hot” spencer said his eyes darkening.

“say something y/n” spencer practically demanded. “i feel the same way spencer, and i have for a long time now” you said feeling quite breathless as you stared at his lips.

spencer looked into your eyes for a little while before eventually cupping your face and bringing his lips down onto yours. his lips felt soft and pillowy and you immediately melted into his touch.

“let me make you feel good” spencer begged. “do it” you nodded. “let’s get this off you” spencer said helping you take off your outfit until you were naked and you helped take off spencer’s clothes.

“so fucking beautiful” spencer said taking you all in. “can i?” spencer’s asked as he spread your legs apart to go inbetween them. “please” you sighed.

he dove his head down to your pussy and began eating you out. his tongue hitting your clit just right. “oh fuck!” you screamed out, your hands finding his hair and pulling on it tight.

you felt him smile against your pussy as you tugged his hair tighter. spencer’s tongue now began to move at rapid speed to make you cum. “spencer im gonna cum!” you shouted out. “let go for me baby” spencer reassured and you did.

spencer lapped up your juices onto his tongue. “you taste so sweet baby” spencer said leaning down to kiss you.

spencer kissed your “angel” tattoo and trailed his tongue up your tiger tattoo and the rest of your body making you wriggle until he got to your mouth and kissed you ferociously.

spencer knelt down on his knees and lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly. “is this okay?” he said wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. “you can move” you reassured and spencer began going in and out of you at a steady pace. you grinded up against him to get him to hit deeper. “faster!” you demanded and he obeyed.

“right there” you sighed as he hit your g spot. spencer’s head found its way to rest into the crook of your neck to hit deeper into you. “oh my god” spencer said as you ground yourself up against him.

your nails dug into his back as you trailed your nails up and down. that pain only made spencer go faster and now your head was hitting off of the headboard. spencer leaned down to kiss the top of your head as a form of an apology.

“i’m gonna cum” you shouted out as you dug your fingers into spencer’s curls. “so am i” spencer said out of breath.

you clenched around spencer’s which sent him over the edge as he pounded even faster, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping together. spencer felt you let go as he did at the same time and you both rode out your orgasms.

spencer stayed inside you for a little longer and kissed you on the lips tenderly. he pulled out to flop down beside you and you whined at the feeling of him pulling out.

“that was…” spencer said at a lose for words. “out of this world?” you joked. “yeah..” he said rolling over to kiss you again. “been meaning to get that out my system for years” you smiled at him and he agreed.

“sorry about your back that’s going to leave a very big mark….” you apologised as you looked at his back which was covered in deep red scratches. “don’t worry about it, it was worth it” he chuckled.

“i was about to shower before you got here…. do you want to join me?” you asked innocently as you got up from the bed. “yes!” spencer said greedily as you laughed and walked to the bathroom together.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

hey there! I really love your writing, could I request for shadow reacting to reader going down the same path as him after losing a loved one? Like maybe reader also used to be happy and cheerful but became cold and closed off after that?

“I Know Your Pain”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: It hurt. It hurt so much to lose people so close to you. You thought nobody would be able to feel your pain. But luckily, someone did.

Notes: Ahhhhh more angst!! I really hope you like this one, anon! (And- sorry for the lack of posts-)

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

(TWs: Mentions of death, death shown in writing, swearing.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

No. No. NonononononoNONONONO!

“MOM! DAD!” you cry out, rushing over to your parents.

They appear to be on the ground, unmoving, with a large pool of blood around each of them.

You check for a pulse, anything to make sure they’re still alive, but…nothing.

They’re gone. Dead. And you couldn’t protect them.

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but you force them not to.

No, crying isn’t what you need right now.

What you need is-

“Revenge,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll avenge you both. I promise.”

You get up off your knees and exit the home, a patch with the letters G.U.N. sliding into frame as the screen fades to black.

As the screen fades back in, we see Team Dark in a G.U.N. meeting, with Shadow being bored out of his mind. He didn’t even work for G.U.N., and neither did Rouge or Omega, so why were they all here?

Before he has too much time to question it, a huge explosion can be heard nearby, causing his ears to flick.

“(Must be the doctor,)” Shadow thinks to himself. “(Finally, an excuse to get out of this boring meeting.)”

“Wonder who that could be,” Rouge says to no one in particular.

“I’ll take care of it,” Shadow says, getting out of his chair. “Rouge, you and Omega should get everyone to safety. Just in case this place goes down.”

“Be careful, hun,” Rouge says.

“I WISH TO ASSIST YOU IN THE FIGHT,” Omega states.

“I’ll call you if I need backup. But I’ll be fine,” Shadow states.

“ANGRY. SETTINGS SET TO “BACKUP FIGHTER,”” Omega says.

Shadow teleports out of the meeting room to where the explosion happened. He cringes a bit at the amount of bodies.

His ear flicks due to a sudden noise, and he catches a piece of rubble that was coming his way with one hand.

Following the bodies, Shadow quickly comes across the culprit, which causes his eyes to widen.

You.

The person who was once so nice and caring, with your eyes filled with joy, were now filled with hatred and spite, a scowl adorning your face.

You slam a G.U.N. agent into the ground, you hand on the back of his head.

“WHICH OF YOU FUCKERS KILLED MY PARENTS?!” you yell.

“[Name]!” Shadow calls out.

You quickly turn your head towards Shadow and your scowl falls, with you releasing the agent, who scrambles away from you.

“Shadow…You…what are you doing here?” you ask.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says. “What happened?”

You go silent for a moment.

“They killed my parents, Shadow,” you mutter. “These bastards shot them dead.”

Shadow seems surprised, his ears flattening back a bit.

“I…I just…” you start before putting your hands over your mouth. “Oh god, what am I doing…?”

You take in the damage you’ve done around you, falling to your knees.

Shadow is near you in an instant, pulling you into a tight hug.

For the first time since your parents’ deaths, you choke out a sob, allowing the tears to flow freely down your face as you return the hug just as tightly, your eyes squeezing shut as you cry.

You weren’t alone in this feeling, and Shadow wasn’t going to leave you.

You were safe.

[soul-meister]

BASOPHOBIA : poly!lost boys x fem!emerson!reader : the lost boys : one-shot

not beta read

cw: basophobia/fear of falling, the boys pressuring reader, sexual harassment(comments/the boys→reader), reader has a decided first name but goes by her middle name--(your name)

summary: your brother brings you along on his hunt to find this mysterious girl from a few nights ago.

"Are you sure you'll find her again? It's been a couple days... Plus, it sounded like she had a boyfriend," you spoke from beside your brother, making your way from the clothing shop where he had bought a leather jacket with the money he gained from his job as a lifeguard. Or was he a beach janitor?

"I just know I'll see her again... And that doesn't matter cause she seemed interested in me," he replied, his head swiveling in various directions as he kept an eye out for a brunette with bouncy curls. An eyebrow raised at your brother's nonchalant attitude at becoming a possible homewrecker.

"Right... So, if you think she's interested in you, why am i here?"

"Just in case she's too nervous to approach me because...well..."

"Because you're a stalker?" You finished for your brother, referencing what you had heard from Sam about Michael following some mystery girl around the board walk a few nights ago.

"Exactly...wait. What?! No!" His head snapped to you, an an incredulous look on his face before he scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention to a piercing stand where a girl was being consoled by the piercer and her friend.

"It's a rip-off," a voice whispered from behind you, causing both you and michael to turn and see a beautiful woman.

Michael nodded his head in her direction, mumbling the words, "that's her," before taking off after the woman with you not far behind. "Hi."

"If you want your ear pierced, I'll do it."

Michael ignored the offer for now, "what's your name?"

"Star."

"Oh, your folks too, huh?" A small smile surfaced on your face, knowing what he was referencing to.

A nervous chuckle then broke through your lips at the quick turn of star's head and her words, "what do you mean?" She seemed anxious at the littlest mention of her parents.

"Ex-hippies," he replied, and you could see her body loosen up once again. "I came this close to being named moonbeam or moon-child. Someone here wasn't as lucky, though," he elbowed you lightly.

the girl's eyebrows scrunched up near the end, "are you two...siblings?"

The corners of you lips dropped slightly at the allusion of you and Michael--Sam, as well--not being similar in appearance as you looked more like your father, something that made you insecure. From what you remembered your mom telling you, she had met your father on the road and ended up pregnant. They only lasted a few months before she met your brothers' father while in the later stage of pregnancy.

You quickly fixed your expression, now coming off as happier than before, "we are. He's my younger brother," your ruffled said person's curls, ruining all the work he had put into styling his hair at home for the possibility he met some concert girl, now known as Star.

"Just call me (Your Name); it's my middle name. Cloud just sounds so stupid to me." A few seconds went by before you realized you basically just insulted Star's name. "Yours is so cute, though. It really suits you, " the words rushed out of your mouth in hopes to lessen the damage.

Glancing at your brother, you noticed the small smirk he sent your way, probably trying to hold in a laugh at your nerves. His attention turned back to the beauty, "Star's great. I like Star."

"Me too," you nodded your head in agreement, worried you had already fucked up and would be seen in a bad light by Star. More like a light that flickered constantly. The thought of her knowing, even if she didn't, that you and Michael didn't share a father carried along in the back of your head as a fault.

There was awkward silence between the three of you and your brother decided to end it by introducing himself, "I'm Michael."

"Michael? Michael's great. I like Michael," Star's gaze fixated on you and there was a playful gleam, "yours is so cute, too. It really suits you." You relaxed at Star's mimicry of you and your brother, seeing that she knew you had no ill-will in your remark.

Seeing that the three of you reached his bike, your brother leaned into your ear, "I'm thinking of getting some dinner with Star, want me to bring you home anything?"

You thought over the prospect before shaking your head, "Sam probably hasn't eaten anything either so I'm gonna try and find him so we can eat together.'

"You sure?" You nodded your head in confirmation. "Alright, see ya later, Cloud."

"Bye, Mikey," you turned your attention to Star who stood off to the side, waiting for you and your brother to finish conversing, "Bye Star. I hope to see you again sometime."

Before you were able to take a step away from your brother the rumbling of engines raced towards your trio. The front wheel of a somewhat familiar blonde with curls--where had you seen him again--got a little to close to your feet for your liking, forcing you to back away and hide behind Michael.

"Where you going, Star?"

She glanced at your brother, not entirely sure what the two were going to do, only having heard snippets of your conversation only a few minutes ago. Noticing her questioning gaze, Michael answered for her, "gonna go for a ride and get some dinner."

"Right," Star nodded before introducing the two of you to who you assumed were her friends, "this is Michael and his sister, (Your Name)." At the mention of your name, you could feel various sets of eyes land on your figure but you ignored them by staring at the familiar head of brown hair.

"Star," the unnamed man spoke again and silence followed as she didn't respond outwardly, though it seemed as if she were inwardly fighting herself. And those inner thoughts that had gone against her wants had won as she made her way over to the bleached blonde and sat herself on the back of his bike.

A blonde with hair that resembled a lion's mane chuckled.

"You know where Hudson's bluff is overlooking the point?" The leader of this oddly dressed biker gang questioned.

"I can't beat your bike."

"You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up." The faux blonde's head tilted, allowing him to get a better look at you, a smirk adorning his features, "and why don't you bring your sister along with you." It wasn't a question, he was telling both you and Michael that you were coming along for the ride whether you liked it or not. And you most certainly weren't going to enjoy it.

Not waiting for michael to reply, you spoke for yourself in a polite manner, "I'm sorry, but I have plans already. Plus, my mom said she was gonna drive me home."

"We can take you home, babe, if that's what you're worried about. Though, I'm not too sure you'll want to be going home by the end of the night." It was the chuckler"**Not even having to take a glance over, you just knew his eyes were traveling up and down your body. You felt it. And it felt...weird.

"Yeah, hang with us, sweetcheeks," the curly flaxen with the face of a cherub spoke, his upper body leaning forward with a forearm resting on one the handles.

"Unless, you're scared," that was the leader, once again, making another statement. He could probably smell the anxiousness oozing out of you at the thought of riding a bike. And just like he did with your brother, he was egging you on but you needed a little more push to go through with something like this.

"Oh, you are scared. Aren't you, sweetheart? You can ride with me. Promise I won't go easy," the cherub gave you a wink as he began to nibble at the nail of his thumb.

"Why don't you go with me instead? The drive can be bumpy and I'll make sure you don't fall off. Might even make you feel good." You felt how your cheeks burned at the innuendo coming from the messy blonde.

You also noticed how your smile began to slip as the two blondes "charmed" you into going, but you willed yourself to keep the corners of your mouth turned up, even if it oozed nervousness. "I'll- I'll go with Mikey."

Said person's gaze switched to you, his eyes widened slightly as you've never wanted to go on a ride with him, or even simply sit on the contraption--you preferred to keep yourself rooted to the ground. Pushing away the shock, Michael slid onto his bike before helping you on behind him with you wrapping your arms around his torso not long after m

"We're going for a ride," there was a new voice, though barely audible through the engines of the bikes. It could only belong to the last man, a brunette with no shirt underneath, and a young child sat behind him. It was the young boy from the other night.

One by one, the bikes rode off down the boardwalk, forcing pedestrians out of their way unless they wanted to be part of a hit and run.

note: this was meant to be longer but I wanted to get it out of my drafts. Will I finish it one day? Maybe...probably not.

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[11queensupreme11]

I Need to know what the other siblings think of dory!! To they have beef with him like axiandros or to they just not care for him?

I need to know the yan opinion on dory especially hades!! To they like him bcs he is basically Percy 2.0 or they hate him for being Poseidon son?

BEELCY babies! I need to see how the other beelcy babies look like!

P.s. you are an ✨AMAZING WRITER ✨ your writing is chefs kiss✨

axiandros: he has the most intense beef with eudorios ever and the funniest part is that it's ONE-SIDED 😭😭😭 dory does not give a shit, he's too busy being smothered by his mother's affections to even notice his eldest bro silently seething in a dark corner LMAO 😭 just seeing dory ruins his day. he hates the way dory looks, acts, smells, BREATHES. dory could literally be walking down the hall and goes "morning, ax! 😄" and axiandros would mutter "disgusting, deplorable piece of shit 😠🔱" and poor dory's like:

"what'd i do????? 🥺" 😭😭😭😭

kymon: mildly irritated. there are very few places he likes to be in and that's either his bedroom or by his mother's side cuz that's where he's most at peace, but in comes fucking DORY again whining and whimpering for mother to pay attention to him 🙄 he rolls his eyes and shows the barest hint of annoyance whenever he sees dory ambling towards them and is already teleporting away because he knows his presence beside their mother only makes dory more annoying and he does not want to deal with that 💀

thalassandros: "can you fuck off, you little shit???????" no seriously, dory spent HOURS with their mother yesterday, it's his turn now, this is SO unfair ugh 😒 he would absolutely hit dory and tell him to screw off, only to get scolded by their mother but he doesn't actually mind cuz you know... mother doesn't actually BEAT THEM unlike a certain asshole (looking at you, bitch (poseidon) 🖕) plus, mom's paying attention to him now, so a win is a win lmao.

as for the yans......

hades actually adores eudorios! mainly because, in his eyes, eudorios is the sweetest of the posy kids. he's so much like percy and is NOTHING like poseidon. ofc, he has no idea that dory is actually completely insane, but oh well! 💀

beelzebub does not like eudorios. he literally gets the tingle every time that kid is around, and he KNOWS that dory's more evil than he looks. he may act all sweet and uwu like percy, but he knows the kid's actually super fucked up inside. tries to warn percy to be more careful, but she loves her son too much to abandon him or let beel get rid of him

loki is another one who knows the kid's unhinged LMAO 😂😂 literally took one good look at him and immediately sensed the insanity asdgvajdf lowkey entertained by percy's naivety but also hopes this doesn't end TOO badly

anubis likes dory a lot! eudorios is his favorite amongst the posy kids cuz he's just sooo nice and friendly! he reminds him so much of his beloved mate 💖💖💖 (reminder: gods don't have souls so anubis can't tell the type of person dory actually is 💀)

cú chulainn is..... somewhat okay with eudorios. he acknowledges that dory is definitely the nicest out of all of the posy kids, but he just can't help but feel that something's..... off with him, but he just can't put his finger on it. he keeps a close eye on him whenever he's around, but other than that, treats him decently

apollo considers dory his favorite amongst the posy kids just like many of the yans do lmao. he's just a sweet kid, what's not to like? he's always nice to him and his children whenever he's around. sure he's a little clingy towards percy, but she's his mom so it's only natural!!!

poseidon is THIS close 🤏 to bashing eudorios' head open. he has no idea where he and percy went wrong with him. he's infuriating and an embarrassment in poseidon's eyes (which is ironic considering he's literally like PERCY who poseidon absolutely adores 💀)

beelcy and poki babies are coming!!! dw. poki babies are mostly ready so they'll come first

[noirsdoll]

idk if you take requests right now and if you write for daisuke but...big bro!daisuke x lil sis reader smut omgmg its just wont stop going trought my head recently 🙏🏻🙏🏻

oh this is so good... i think he lowkey has a porn addiction LMAO um daisuke would love his little sis more than anything!! so much so that he gets carried away... cw for brother/sister incest and a smidgen of dubcon!!

Daisuke knows you look up to him. That’s why he feels like such an asshole for what he’s doing to you now. 

Sure he’s not the brightest, or the best at anything, really, but you’ve never let that stop you from loving him any less. He’s so grateful he has you. 

In the upcoming days before his departure for the Pony Express, he’s been spending every waking moment with you. He’s going to miss you dearly, so he’s been trying to fill his final days making memories with you.

You just wanted to watch TV with him, sitting up in his lap like you always do, content to feel his skin flush with yours. You move to get comfortable and Daisuke lets you do so with a soft laugh and a ruffle of your hair. 

“You ready?” He asks, hand on the remote. 

You beam and nod. “Keep your eyes on the screen, okay? There’ll be a pop quiz at the end.”

“Can’t be a pop quiz if you’re telling me about it beforehand.”

You roll your eyes in jest. “Okay, smartass. Just shut up and watch.”

But then you start to shift to turn away to face the screen, indirectly grinding yourself against him. And it’s like Daisuke and his dick suddenly gain consciousness together. He’s never looked at you that way but suddenly he is— and it terrifies him. 

Daisuke never realized just how much you’ve grown up. Sure you’re still his little sister, but you’re a woman now. You have curves and tits and— he should stop thinking about this.

Now that you’re both adults, you can’t be so close to him like this anymore. It’s wrong. There’s a threshold you’ve both reached as adults that makes all the cuddling and handholding icky and so far from familial. 

Daisuke should say something, he should say that, exactly like how he just thought it in his brain. His hands move to your hips and dig into the flesh, pulling you to a stop. 

“Daisuke?” You look over your shoulder at him, the corner of your lips sinking into a confused frown. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, the words die on his tongue. “It’s nothing, sis.” Daisuke kisses your temple, and even that feels wrong. 

Surely you can feel it, his cock getting hard against your soft ass, the way his hips are squirming, not to mention how heavy his breathing has gotten. He’s a creep, he’s a creep, he’s a fucking creep. He hates how thinking that only makes him harder. 

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, rocking his cock against you, just barely able to feel the soft press of your cunt through your shorts. Daisuke gasps appreciatively against you. Just one more time. He’s only gonna do it one more time. 

But then you make the prettiest fucking sound as he does it a second time and Daisuke needs more. His stomach curdles but he can’t help himself, so drawn to you and only you. 

“Daisuke? What are you doing?” You ask as his hands creep lower, over your ass, pulling your shorts to the side. They’re hardly shorts, more like panties. You don’t ever wear much around him. 

“Just keep watching. Don’t mind me.” He’s fucking salivating. All the stepsister porn in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the sight of your pussy. Why did you shave it? Are you talking to some guy he doesn’t know about?

You pout. “But I wanted you to watch this show—!”

His dick nudges your cunt and your spine goes straight. You aren’t wet enough to take him yet, unfortunately. He can fix that. How do those guys do it in porn? 

Daisuke spits on his shaft, lubing it up. “Stay still, okay?” 

You try to get away, but he’s holding you against him. “What are you—?! Daisuke, I’m gonna tell Mom—!”

His dick slots into you and he tugs you back into him by your thighs. You gasp in shock, the noise split by a moan as he sinks you down onto him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice heavy and tainted by lust, “I just needed to know what you felt like.”

He didn’t need to do anything, but it’s hard to face the truth when he just put his dick inside his sister. Especially when he starts to move his hips and it’s practically impossible with how tight you are. You must not want him to pull out. 

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are lodged so far down your throat that all that comes out is a breathy gasp. Your pussy throbs around him. 

You sit there frozen as he fucks you, only starting to relax when he stuffs his hand between your thighs and rubs your clit. His fingers slip a little with how wet you’ve gotten.

“Open up for me, sis,” he begs, “please, fuck— I’m sorry.” It feels like all he can do is apologize.

You moan, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your pretty tits heave as you get yourself situated on his cock. “Daisuke, Daisuke—,” 

“Yeah? Is it okay?” He asks. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” That’d be his biggest fear in all of this. Daisuke wants nothing but to make you feel good, even if it’s at a cost to him— it’s the least he can do.

You shake your head, almost fervently, “gonna cum. Please, don’t stop.” Your pussy’s making half the noise for you as he rocks you on his dick.

“Fuck, you are?” Daisuke’s bewildered, he thrusts into you with more intensity. “Wanna see it, please, sis.” He’ll never need porn again with how your moans are so perfectly burned into his brain.

You come apart around him, holding onto him so tight that he swears he might bruise. He gives you a moment to calm down around him, combing your sweaty hair out of your face and kissing your forehead.

Daisuke really didn’t think this through— he’s gonna miss you even more now.

[sabrinahawthorne]

Sorry to OP, Jack, and Aaron, but it's my turn to hijack. Because as it turns out, I've also been thinking about this, and I have an additional solution: Cultivate a Casual Audience.

I spent most of the latter half of 2024 thinking about this issue, by way of thinking about a more pressing issue for me: how to make a living doing this. I'm a disabled artist who's largely unable to work otherwise, and I'd really like to have enough income of my own that I don't always have to rely on those very supportive people in my life. Eventually, I came up with a plan.* Walk with me.

Imagine that you're starting up a local movie theater, and you're pondering the topic of audience. What kind of audiences do you want to draw for the best balance of profit and taste? It seems to me that you have three options: 1. Pander to the MCUboys. This is a super reliable audience, obviously, and they've got money to spend. The problem with this approach is that you're just further slicing the pie - sure, they're a big audience, but you're only ever going to draw a proportional fraction of them, roughly evenly split with all the other theaters in town, including the AMC downtown. Plus, you'd be tying yourself to a property that won't last forever; it's not sustainable, even if it's profitable now. 2. Pander to the Indieboys. This also isn't a great plan - sure, the indie folks are by far your most dedicated crowd. They'll show up for anything, and they'll do it regularly. But as with all indie art circles, they've been passing the same $20 around for the last decade. It's just not profitable enough to keep your business afloat. 3. Cater to a Casual Audience. As a movie exhibitor, this is easy. Everybody goes to the movies! All you have to do is do stuff other than just movies! Maybe sell food in your lobby space and fill it with seating - now it's a dinner spot, too! Or maybe sell local art, too. That way you're getting the attention of people whose focus isn't on movies, and maybe they'll decide to book a ticket to something while they're here having a meal with their visiting parents.

In my city, the local indie theater does all of that and more; they hold monthly workshops where a local artist teaches a workshop on how to do their weird niche thing. In fact, I did one last year, and it was great! About seven people showed up, and one of them was my mom. But you know something? I made a tidy little profit from tickets, and sold a few games besides.

You may have spotted the problem: that being that tabletop RPGs don't have a casual audience. This artform is stuck between two extremes: the MCU and the gorehounds. As others have pointed out - 99% of people who've heard of this medium at all have exclusively heard of D&D, including a lot of pretty hardcore, invested D&D fans. On multiple occasions, I've tested the waters by asking someone if they play RPGs, with the response being "yeah! I've been playing D&D with my friends for like three years!" and then, when I ask if they've ever played anything else, they hit me with the "there are other games? I had no idea!" It's not just that D&D is the most popular thing; it's that to most people - even those who we would consider significantly invested in the medium - D&D is the only thing. The idea that other games can exist at all is alien to a lot of folks. Pretty scary, huh?

Well, here's the twist. It's actually a super solvable problem, and you might be able to do it where you live, for free.

Step 0: First Principles Before you begin, you'll need to iron out your goals and your approach. For me, this is pretty simple - one, I don't talk about D&D. Whenever I'm talking about RPGs, especially to newbies, I straight-up act as if D&D doesn't exist unless someone else brings it up. If I need a standard fantasy RPG that's still in print, I default to Pathfinder, or something more niche if I think I can afford it.† Two, I decide right now that selling my own product is going to be pretty low on my priority list. This is for two reasons, the most relevant one being optics - I want people to feel like I really care about this hobby (which I do, to be clear), and promoting my own work when I could be spotlighting other people's games is going to clock as kind of shady to some people. Because, frankly, it is.

Step 1: Avoid Your Local Game Store Which isn't to say don't shop there, obviously. I only mean that for this little project of yours, the local store won't work. Why? Survivorship bias. Your friendly local game store is, through no fault of their own, the MCU theater. They only pay rent because they sell D&D and Magic cards - and let's be real, Magic cards are the smaller market. Don't blame them for this; they're doing everything they can, and the fact that they can afford to buy stock of Monsterhearts, or Avatar: Legends is a mark of their success. But the fact is, they're the plane that made it back. Their audience is almost entirely D&D-heads. Those aren't the people you're trying to reach. Instead, you're looking for a local art spot. A popular coffee shop that doubles as a gallery; A used bookstore with weekly storytimes and programs for local authors. Somewhere that meets these two criteria: a) they cater to a wide, casual market who do not come here for tabletop RPGs, and b) hold any kind of regular event. Poetry readings, book clubs, anything like that.

Step 2: Talk To The Owners I'll be real - this is the step where I got the most lucky. See, I was about two days into formulating this plan when my local movie theater decided to start hosting weekly board game nights. As in, anyone can show up, bring-your-own-game, play with whoever you like. For free. The opportunity fell into my lap. Even if I hadn't already done business with this place, I wouldn't have needed to bring this plan up with them. They'd just given me a free opportunity. You may not be so fortunate. In your case, then, you'll want to bring your pitch around and see who bites. In many cases, this is going to be you starting up a new event at this location, and that means a lot of responsibility on your shoulders to maintain the schedule, the marketing, etc. The thing is, though – there’s always more going on in your city than you imagine. In my experience, a lot of these local art spaces are pretty bad at advertising themselves, and all it takes is a little searching and some in-person friendships to get you in touch with something you can take advantage of. Maybe your library has some kind of regular mingling event – old-school fantasy geek meetups, or a star-trek fan group who meets every other week at the mom & pop diner. See if there’s something you can ride the coattails of, before you take the leap of organizing your own event.

Step 3: Be Prepared I made a spreadsheet. I have the next six months planned. I don’t go to every game night – instead, I show up every other week. I’m there the full two hours, no matter what. Unless I have to, I never show up alone. I bring pre-made characters, a pre-written module, pencils, paper, dice, and two dice boxes. If I have one, I bring a physical copy of that week’s game. If nobody bites, no worries – I just carry over that game to the next week, ad nauseum, until it gets played. I select for smaller games that I already own. One-pagers, zines, that sort of thing. I also select for games I think are either accessible to newbies, or which I would consider required reading. Lasers & Feelings; Roll for Shoes; Crash Pandas. I also selected my timeframe very carefully. I’d burn out if I prepared a new game with characters and an adventure every week, and people would forget about me if I did it only once a month. So it’s every other week; enough time to not stress overmuch about prep, but not so long that people forget, or quietly assume I stopped coming.

Step 4: Persist Then, I mingle. I talk to people who show up alone; I make a show of being an open table. And I ask everyone I meet: “Do you know what you’re playing tonight?” This step takes patience. A fucking lot of patience. My first two weeks (which is to say, my first full month, real-time), nobody bit. That was due to a combination of factors; for one, it was still January, and the event was pretty dead. It’s gotten better since. For another, I went alone those weeks. It felt kind of pathetic, honestly – but I knew what I wanted, and I was willing to wait for it. And it’s working. My last showing, I came with two friends, and two other people showed up. One of them told me at the end of the night that he had someone in mind to invite along. Folks, this is a long game. A really long game. My plan is to do this every other week for the rest of the year, barring a few things, and my goal by the end of 2025 is to have four, maybe five, regulars. But I know what I’m here for, and I know it’s going to take a while.

I’m cultivating a casual RPG market in my town. Because that’s really what we need, isn’t it? This is a really niche hobby, but it doesn’t have to be. Wizards of the Coast have proven, in their own slimy way, that RPGs can appeal to a huge array of people, if they’re given an open door. If you care about de-monopolizing this hobby and opening it up for more artists to be able to make a living, then our goal needs to be generating a casual gaming audience that isn’t funneled through the filter of D&D to get to the other side of indie. They need the opportunity to try out the medium from other angles. And if you’ve got the time, energy, and inclination, I think you can give it to them.

*This plan won't work for everyone. In fact, I suspect it won't work for most of us, for one reason or another. I think I'm pretty lucky both in terms of the support network I have in my private life, as well as some of the material & geographic resources at my disposal, and this solution requires all three. But I hope that some of what I outline here is transferable to other people's circumstances as well.

†Hey. Hey, look at me. Look me in the eyes. Pathfinder is indie. No, stop. Look at Me. D&D is the only mainstream RPG. I'm not kidding, and I'm not exaggerating. Please, please understand that you and I are the kinds of movie fans who think Reanimator is mainstream, okay? We're the indie freaks who are passing that $20 around. We have a tendency to lose perspective on what the average normie has heard of, let alone played. I'm begging you not to discourse about this in the notes.

Art Communities and TTRPGs

I recently read an article by @toyourstations (which you can read here) about art revolutions, both online and in physical space. It makes the point that art communities online are generally fairly insular, rarely reaching out beyond a small circle of other artists. To combat this, the article argues that you as an artist should find a way to exist in physical space around people who are not in your small group and share your art there. It's a topic that I had been thinking about a lot lately as I've been making a conceited effort to connect more people in the indie ttrpg space and encourage more community amongst artists.

I've noticed a trend that relates to both of these topics. It seems to me that people in the indie ttrpg community online rarely interact with other's works. I see in other art mediums an outpouring of interaction on even the most sophomoric works. Yet amongst ttrpg writers, I see posts of well made projects with little to no interaction or feedback. This is purely subjective and my experience may be skewing my view on the topic but it seems to hold true.

I have a few theories.

This is obviously a fairly small community, but there are at least other artists here that would have opinions about the projects they see. Are people scared to interact; to give criticism, both good or bad? You would think in such a small community of creator/artists that people would be sharing ideas and writing critique.

The most cynical theory is that creators don't want to boost up other projects as they see them as competition. There is a feeling that there is only enough oxygen in the room for one or two projects to exist and you don't want to lift up other projects when it may result in the starvation of your own.

There is also the time investment. It takes time to read and interact with ttrpgs. Playing/testing them is a whole other level of commitment. But there must be some people who at least read or skim projects. Why do they not leave comments. Does it really come down to the size of the community? Are there just not enough people interested in projects outside of their own?

----

I do feel that I need to state that this opinion is not a reflection of my personal project's engagement. I am fairly happy with how they have performed considering my size and reach. This frustration is mostly a product of seeing other projects and artist gain zero traction when I think their projects are worthwhile. This also goes beyond Tumblr as a platform. Obviously there are a million factors that play into this, but I think a community initiative to engage more with smaller works could change the landscape of the ttrpg community online.

[trans-yllz]

for someone who Hated going home for the holidays, first christmas post mom death is proving uncharacteristically upsetting

[mamawasatesttube]

you know tim is really head over heels for kon when he learns every step of kon's intricate and special haircare routine (this shampoo and conditioner set every third and seventh day, this one for all washes in between. this hair cream when it's damp, every other wash; this oil treatment also when it's lightly damp, between those. this hair mask, once weekly. etc) so that when kon is feeling down, tim can tell him to lean his head back over the sink, and tim can wash his hair for him.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my 1 (one) stardew opinion is shane should not have won the bachelor poll

[willowfey]

starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

[stonerzelda]

Unfortunately that kitten had to go back to her foster mom who. I am pretty sure is going to be fired from the shelter we work with because holy fuck she was The worst -_- god she was cute tho im glad i got to spend time with her today

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.