#but i was like this is getting a bit suspicious

[crushpunky]

drew tells a story about actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this one’s a bit short, but it was suggested and i thought it was really cute so yk i had to write it. based off of drew’s recent esquire interview <3

“Your audition tape for Queer was a slam dunk, can you tell us what you did for the tape?” Drew read the question card.

“Oh, this is actually a funny story.” Drew laughed to himself, crossing his legs. “The first one I had my good friend Rudy Pankow help me tape it. I usually have my girlfriend help me, but she was shooting at the time.”

“One of the scenes was me in bed, I believe, and so Rudy came to my apartment,” Drew explained, speaking dramatically with his hands, “and I had my camera and tripod set up and I was laying in the bed, kinda sort-of framing myself and he came in was like… ‘so what are we doing’?”

Drew laughed, “and I told him, ‘just trust me, ok, I need your help’. Then, as if it couldn’t get any more suspicious, my wonderful girlfriend, y/n, gets back from shooting and walks into our room to find me and Rudy on our bed with the camera set up.”

“I was like, ‘babe I promise this is not what it looks like, I’m just filming an audition’, but she was already like on the floor, crying and laughing.” Drew grinned at the memory, the site of y/n’s smile and adorable laughter playing in his mind.

“But, I appreciate him for helping me with that… and y/n for not freaking out at the strange site she walked in on.” Drew laughed, flipping to the next card.

“Oh, speak of the devil, your good friend y/n y/ln was quoted saying, ‘Drew is probably the scariest sweetheart you’ll ever meet’,” Drew blushed as he read, “what is it like finding the balance between ‘scary’ and ‘sweetheart’ roles?”

The quote was from an interview when someone asked y/n if she ever felt intimidated or even scared working opposite Drew as the big bad Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks. While the scenes between their characters on OBX would certainly get intense at times, it wasn’t very often she was “scared” of Drew. After all, she knew her boyfriend better than anyone else and knew the big heart hiding behind his imposing exterior.

“Wow, I’d like to thank my ‘good friend’ y/n y/ln for that wonderful quote.” Drew grinned, scratching his jaw bashfully. “Well I certainly like to challenge myself, and y’know depending on where I am, that could come in the form of more intense roles or more grounded or more kinda… soft? I don’t know. Y/n says I need to be in a rom com, so maybe that’ll be the next step after this.”

[heartinhyacinth]

Ahh this has nuzzled its way into my brain

Now I’m imagining that they’re sentient like the statues and remain that way for the same reasons—Xie Lian doesn’t know how to make it stop and it’ll fade eventually anyway, so they just let it be.

Two or so days later, Feng Xin, Mu Qing, and Pei Ming come over to discuss some matters, and Xie Lian, profusely embarrassed, briefly explains, “you see, it’s like the…statue incident haha…”

While Feng Xin and Mu Qing understand immediately, Pei Ming asks for clarification, but Mu Qing turns bright red and declares that they’re not talking about this. Xie Lian agrees. Hua Cheng is snickering quietly in the corner, lounging on the bed with an arm draped over his knee as he leans against the wall behind him and lazily brushes off the cover that repeatedly tries to tuck him in.

They move on and start discussing business, until half way through when Xie Lian seems to have stopped listening, instead staring anxiously at the broom that’s sweeping towards Feng Xin. Hua Cheng is also staring at the broom, except his expression leans on excited anticipation, a mischievous grin beginning to form. Mu Qing notices first and calls them out on not paying attention.

Xie Lian apologizes, but his eyes remain on the broom, “I am, I am! It’s just…” He pauses and takes a wary step towards Feng Xin, hands outstretched cautiously like he’s trying to herd a snappy dog. Xie Lian hesitates, “you’re…um…you’re in the broom’s way…”

Feng Xin, predictably, rages. “I’m- I’m in the broom’s way?! It’s a fucking broom!”

Xie Lian knows how it sounds, but he and Hua Cheng learned the hard way what exactly happens when you’re in the broom’s path while it’s trying to clean. They could have just tossed it out after, but it’s working so hard and it really just wants to help. “I know, I know, it’s just that it…has a bit of a temperament issue haha, you might want to…”

Feng Xin merely scoffs and squares his feet, pride as stubborn as ever. Seconds later, the broom swiftly floats up, meeting his eye level. Feng Xin glares at it suspiciously, and then it flips and starts wacking him on the head, the shoulders, the face. It still looks like it’s sweeping, just vertically now.

Feng Xin is flailing about, screaming and cursing. It’s not an ordinary broom—not just because it’s sentient, but because it was born from Xie Lian. The broom hits hard. Hua Cheng is now sitting up straight to get a full view of the live entertainment, delighted at getting the outcome he was so clearly hoping for. Mu Qing and Pei Ming are trying to avoid Feng Xin’s flying fists while laughing so hard they nearly lose balance trying to do both at once. Xie Lian is trying to calm the broom and talk it down, while also scolding Feng Xin because he shouldn’t have provoked it. It finally calms only once Feng Xin is in the other corner of the shrine, far out of its sweeping path.

“Bravo—nice!” Hua Cheng claps his hands and then snickers, “next, why don’t you see what happens when you piss off the cooking pot”. Pei Ming, who was standing a few inches from the stove, glances at the pot of steaming purple…whatever it is, then quickly gives a wide berth.

As they go to leave, they announce that next time they’ll just talk outside. Xie Lian chuckles nervously and they all follow his line of sight as his eyes drift towards…the axe.

And they thought paradise manor was the house of horrors between hualian’s homes…

//I’m fairly new to tumblr and don’t rly know the etiquette here (or social rules in general if I’m being honest) so I hope this is alright??//

Obsessed with the idea of Xie Lian getting his spiritual powers back and not really using them outside of like subconscious actions. Like in a fight he spent 800 years just straight up throwing hands so it doesn’t really occur to him to use it. But because he’s literally stuffed full of spiritual energy so it just results in Puqi Shrine becoming the fairies house in Sleeping Beauty. Like there’s a pot stirring itself while truly toxic ingredients are added to a soup. The floor is being sweeped by a broken broom. The laundry is being done automatically meaning all his white robes are now a faint pink. Hua Cheng is sitting in the bed grinning fondly at the chaos around him. Meanwhile Xie Lian is just sitting outside sorting out his junk piles to see if he can find the pretty comb he wanted to give his husband and thinking of the chores he has to do today because they didn’t leave the bed until noon.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty seven

authors note: none.

cw/tw: angst, threats of violence, csa survivor being triggered

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k

Solana gasps when the familiar scent of her husband’s cologne, strong yet subtle, invades her nostrils conjoined with the welcoming embrace of his strong arms around her body. Naturally, she turns around from the counter where she was putting away dishes, a small smile on her face as he rests his hands on the small of her back. 

However, her grin dims a bit when she sees he’s fully dressed. “You’re leaving already?”

Roman nods, explaining, “I need to get back on track. The sooner, the better.” 

His words, logically, make sense. But, they do nothing to abate her nerves. “What if you worked from home?” She then proposes in an almost selling manner. “I called off today anyway, so I’ll be here in case you need something.”

Something being a euphemism for the word anything. In the few days that have passed since the funeral, Solana has continued to stay with and watch her husband like a hawk. Ready to support him in any way that he needs, the memory of him breaking down in front of her, holding her while he cried into her stomach, something she will never forget.

Something he desperately needed.

And something he hasn’t outright spoken about. She gets it. Understands how both major and uncomfortable that had to have been for him. Emotions are tricky and confusing, and for someone who’s used to pushing them away, feeling them all at once can be….an experience.

His thick brows furrow slightly, as he asks the million dollar question. “Why’d you call off?”

Shit.

A couple of reasons. 

Beyond just the obvious of wanting to be physically present and available for him.

One, while her husband was in their home gym, trying to work off some of his still heavy emotions, she sat near the toilet for almost twenty minutes, vomiting twice and afraid of a third occurrence, hence her not leaving. Second, Solana still feels not the best—morning sickness attacking her with all the rage the past two days. Three, she has the appointment today. 

And none of these things can be said to the man before her who looks understandably confused. 

So, she goes with a not entirely untrue answer but not the full truth either. “Didn’t really feel up to it today.” Her fingers scrunch the soft material of his shirt. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave you alone….”

And that is not a lie. Solana has tried her best to keep reminding herself that she can’t be with her husband 24/7, but given how they have been together practically 24/7 for over a week straight, it’s kind of hard not to want that to continue.

She’s anxious at the thought of not being nearby in case he needs something.

In case he needs her.

Roman shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” There’s a hint of concern etched in his handsome features as he asks, “are you sure you’re okay?” Solana does her best to remain with a neutral expression even as his shifts into something of a frown. “Feel like you’ve been sick a lot lately...”

“Stress,” she answers. Again, technically not a lie. “It’s just been…..a lot recently.” But then, she feels bad because she sees that he feels bad. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I just need to make sure you’re….okay enough.”

Because wanting him to be good is a ridiculous expectation. Not with what he’s just been through. She knows better than anyone how recovery from a major loss like that can take some time. 

A lot of time.

Roman’s still looking at her unconvinced. Like….like there’s something he’s not saying.

Or asking.

And, it’s unnerving, because sitting on a pile of secrets is always stressful enough. Adding in her overtly protective and possibly suspicious husband is even more unsettling and not anything she can tolerate right now.

“I’ll come see you at lunch then,” she suggests, partially wanting to actually check on him mid-day but also needing them to get off this subject. 

It seems to work, as he objects, “you don’t have to do that, Sol.”

“But, I want to,” she counters, lifting her palm to his cheek. “You’ve helped me get to the point where I’m okay….now it’s my turn.”

Solana is unsure what okay will look like for Roman, because everyone’s definition is different. But, whatever it is, whatever it requires, she’s willing and ready to walk with him, right by his side, the entire time.

Roman leans down and kisses her forehead, muttering, “come with me.” He straightens back up and goes to grab her hand, explaining, “I want to show you something.” 

Solana nods and allows him to walk them out the kitchen and past the living room where she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. Roman guides them up the steps and into their bedroom only for her to gasp, turning to him with a small smile. “Roman? What is all of this?”

This referring to the more than several set of small to medium black, luxury shopping bags with a foreign word written in calligraphy sitting on the dresser. Moving closer, another gasp when she realizes they’re almost all filled with various sized jewelry boxes. 

“When did you even….” She trails off, grabbing a random box and opening it, mouth dropping at the stunning diamond necklace. “Roman, this is beautiful.” Because it is, and she’s certain every other piece he’s apparently purchased for her is just as stunning. 

He’s moved over towards her, arms crossed as he explains, “it’s handmade Italian jewelry. I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d like best, so I just got it all.” He says it so casually, Solana’s eyes widening at the thought of how much all of this could have cost. 

“How much did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “You’re worth it all.”

His words warm her heart and make those butterflies form as her eyes land on something else. Carefully closing the box and placing it back inside the bag, she’s quick with grabbing the beautiful brown leathered book. “You got me journals!” It’s said with such elation, almost childlike, evoking a chuckle from Roman. The smile on her face widening as she runs her hand over the soft cover. Opening said journal, an engravement on the inside of the front cover catches her attention. It’s written in what she would guess is Italian.

Italian jewelry. Italian leather, most likely. Putting two and two together would indicate these are gifts he got her while he was away in Italy. A realization that makes her heart flutter. He was there on business yet still made time for her.

Always thinking of her.

Moved and now especially curious about the words she cannot read for herself, Solana asks, “what does it say?”

And without even reading it, Roman speaks in Italian, moving his hand to gently cup her face as he translates in a quiet voice, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her heart swells, eyes shutting momentarily to bask in the moment. Love is such a beautiful, sacred thing, treasured and coveted. Something she’s found, so deeply and heavenly, with him.

Always with him. 

And it’s in that moment, as she leans up and kisses him, reciprocating her vow of love, that it hits her. 

Solana knows exactly what tattoo she wants to get for her husband.

————

The minute the backdoor is opened and Roman slides in the SUV, he’s met with Dwayne’s hulking frame, phone glued to his ear.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s impossible. Make it possible,” he barks. Roman chuckles. His cousins’s temper can rival his at times, and this aggression and irritation that fills the SUV makes it a bit easier for him to drift from sorrow to business. 

Emotions have always been…..weird for him. Something he’s always possessed but worked tirelessly to push away and suppress, only to ever really reveal and express around one woman before Solana.

Fetu.

She was always his safe space. His anchor. His safety.

Her being gone isn’t something that’s computed, that’s truly set in, that he’s accepted. Or, maybe he has. Maybe it was that crushing realization that not only is she gone but that he didn’t even get to see or speak to her one last time that made him break down in his wife’s arms.

Years.

It’s been years since Roman has cried. Not since the day of the funerals where he refused to leave the gravesite of his deceased family. Where he cried and apologized profusely for hours for not being able to save them.

For failing them and not being strong enough to do so.

That….that was the last day he’d allowed himself to shed a tear.

Until now.

It was both a strange, liberating experience. One he never wants to experience again but also…..needs.

Two opposing forces that make little sense and account for a shit ton of cognitive dissonance. 

The only thing that does make sense is his wife.

Solana.

That is the one thing, the one person he needs. Now more than ever.

And she’s been nothing but his rock throughout this whole thing. Even when he tried to push her away and ice her out, she stayed. Supported him. Helped him. Cared for him. Loved him. 

He wasn’t lying when he told her he couldn’t have made it through this without her.

He couldn’t.

At all. 

And as nice as being with her, not having to think or focus on anything but himself and all of his heavy ass emotions has been, it couldn’t last forever. 

Because as much as he still feels not okay, he’s gotta pull it together. 

One way or another. 

“Yeah….that’s what I fucking thought,” Dwayne snaps, pulling Roman from his thoughts, before snatching the phone from his ear and smashing the red end button. “Fucking incompetent pieces of shit.”

“Do I want to know?” Roman asks, even though he really wants to substitute want with need. Right now, essential information and problems is all he wants to tackle this day. It’s bad enough his Wise Man is out sick.

Paul is usually the buffer and filter for all the bullshit, something Roman truly has little patience for on most days, even more on a day like today.

“Naw.” Dwayne shakes his head. “I got it.” He turns to his cousin as Roman signals for the driver to start driving. “How you doing?”

A dumbass question in Roman’s mind, but he doesn’t say as such. “Fine.” He’s not, but as easy as Dwayne can be to talk to sometimes, if Roman is going to talk to someone about feelings and shit, it’s going to be his wife.

And, well, her. 

Maybe. 

“Bullshit,” Dwayne calls him out, lightly shoving his shoulder. “But, getting back into the swing of things might be helpful for you. You like yelling at people.”

“I shouldn’t have to though,” is the easy counter. “People should just do their fucking job.”

Dwayne gestures to his phone. “That’s what I just told this dumbass.” Roman snickers and shakes his head as his older cousin clears his throat and suddenly asks, “that wife of yours talk to you?”

Roman easily hides the way his shoulders tense at being asked about Solana. “About?”

Dwayne’s expression shifts into something a bit more serious, and this isn’t lost upon Roman. “About what went down with Rikishi?”

“Yes.” The answer to that is easy and simple. Solana did technically tell him something happened between her and his older cousin, but she did not say specifics. And he knows that was for a reason. “Now tell me what really happened.”

————

The conference room is already filled with the expected persons by the time Roman and Dwayne arrive. All but two chairs are occupied as Jimmy, Jey, Solo, Rikishi, and Matteo wait with various expressions. The sons and father seem to be engaged in quiet conversation while Matteo keeps to himself, preoccupied with the phone in his hand.

That dynamic is about all that Roman can make out as he marches right into said conference room, Dwayne not too far behind. The men are barely able to finish standing when Roman marches right over to Rikishi’s chair, grabbing him by his collar, snatching him out the chair and shoving him against the nearest wall. 

Roman is somewhat cognizant of the voices of shock and protest around him, but it doesn’t make a single fucking difference.

He’s seeing red.

Muscled forearm barred against Rikishi’s fat neck, he finds joy in the way the older man’s eyes are bulging and the almost desperate way his chubby fingers try to push him away. “If you ever in your fucking life raise your hand to her again, I’ll kill you! You understand me!” Roman relishes in the absolute fear emanating from the man before him. Good. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my wife!”

By now, Roman is a bit more cognizant to the hands grasping at him, trying to pull him away from his target.

“Ayo, Uce, what the hell you doing!” Jimmy’s voice makes it past the thick wall of anger that fills and consumes Roman as he thinks about this fucker having to audacity to try to hit his wife.

Over Roman’s dead fucking body will anyone disrespect Solana. Especially his family.

“Get the hell off him!” Roman is finally “pulled” away from a now gasping, coughing Rikishi. It’s truly Roman’s decision to let go, because ain’t no way in hell not a man in that room could stop him from killing this son of a bitch right now if he wanted to.

And a part of him does. He really does. But, it’s hard to tell how much of that desire is fueled by his grief vs logic. 

But, it’s when Roman realizes both Jey and Solo are standing in front of a reddened face Rikishi, while Jimmy tends to his dad, that he really gets pissed the fuck off. They have the audacity to look like they’re ready to jump him. “What ya’ll about to do, huh?” Roman challenges, ready for whatever. As he always is. “Ya’ll ain’t about to do shit!” 

And maybe, just maybe, they are. Doesn’t matter. He’ll kick both their asses and make their daddy watch. 

Jimmy then moves over after helping Rikishi to his feet. “Roman, what the hell are you even talking about?”

Chin jutted in Rikishi’s direction, his answer is cold and direct. “Ask him.”

Another harsh cough followed by an unexpected answer as he moves to the side, no longer completely obscured by the protective wall of two of his sons. “She hit me first. Did she tell you that?”

At that answer, both Jey and Jimmy look slightly taken back. Solo just continues to glare at Roman, who’s tempted to knock him out for that disrespect alone.

“She did,” Dwayne suddenly chimes, him and Matteo simply watching the scene unfold without a hint of interference. For now. “But, this was only after you made fun of her being abused and basically told her she was useless because she hasn’t produced an heir yet.” Just hearing it again has Roman’s eyes closing and hand fisting at his side. Rage. “Regardless, you know the rules. We don’t put our fucking hands on women.” And then an almost knowing comment/question. “Or have you forgotten?”

It’s a simple question, but it feels like there’s a story there. The way anger flashes in Rikishi’s face and eyes, something similar to what’s painted on his twins faces. Roman, however, is redirected from wondering if there was more to said comment by Jimmy and Jey switching their focus back to their dad.

“Dad, did you really do that?” Jimmy is the one to ask, shaking his head. “Tell me you ain’t say that shit.”

Rikishi doesn’t hesitate to defend himself. “The girl was out of line.”

“Aye,” Jimmy is the one to cut him off. “Her name is Solana, alright?”

“Just let him talk,” Jey interrupts. “Two sides to every story.”

“Not when it’s a man trying to hit a woman,” Jimmy counters. “Making fun of her trauma and shit.”

Jey is also not backing down. “Look, we weren’t there, alright?”

“But, I was, and I saw exactly what went down,” Dwayne reminds, crossing his arms. 

“And if I may,” Matteo suddenly enters the conversation, Jey only looking more irritated than before. “Under no circumstance should a man try to hit a woman. Ever.” 

Jey doesn’t hesitate to try to put Matteo in his place. “Aye, look, this don’t involve you, alright. This Bloodline business.” 

“I suggest you lower your voice.” Matteo’s own voice takes on an icy tone as he so chillingly threatens, “I’d hate to have to spill your blood in front of your family. On this otherwise lovely day, too. A shame.”

Matteo’s very real threat only further incenses Jey. “I know you not fucking threatening me.” He steps forward, Solo reaching to restrain his older brother. “Man, I’ll knock your ass out!”

Matteo smiles. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Jey points to Roman, “you better get your fucking boy, Roman.”

Roman couldn’t care too much about that. “Tell your fucking dad to keep his hands off my wife.”

“Man, you overreacting! He ain’t even touch her!”

Roman growls, “just because you don’t give a fuck about your bitch of a wife—”

“What the hell you just say?” At that, Jey’s very paltry sense of resolve breaks. “I told you, you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife, or we gon have problems!”

Roman goes to move toward Jey, never ever scared when both Matteo and Dwayne go to restrain him. “If you gon do something, do it!” It takes a great amount of strength from both men to hold back an irate, borderline unhinged Roman. “I’ll whoop you and your daddy’s ass, and if Solo keeps looking at me like he’s lost his goddamn mind, I’ll kick his ass too!”

“That’s enough!” Jimmy finally cuts in, also going to restrain Jey, standing between an almost standoff. Rikishi, Solo, and Jey vs Roman, Dwayne, and Matteo. “Everybody just needs to calm down!”

“Your anger is misplaced, Uce.” Rikishi sounds, Dwayne still holding onto Roman’s arm while Matteo has loosened his grip in favor of focusing on the other three, waiting to see if they’ll do something. “Especially considering I was the one who tried to plead on your behalf just this morning,” he taunts almost, as if trying to get under Roman's skin even further. 

And, it partially works. 

Roman doesn’t need anyone to do shit for him.

“Plead for what?” Dwayne is the one to ask, recognizing verbalizations are a much better alternative to the physical melee that’s on the horizon if de-escalation doesn’t start. And fast. 

Rikishi straightens up, adjusting his tie, almost as if he’s trying to act like his life didn’t just end suddenly and violently. “The Elders have grown tired of waiting for the Tribal Chief to produce an heir.” Dwayne tightens his grip ever so slightly, feeling Roman try to inch away from him. “You and your wife are to conceive by the end of the year….or else.”

It’s almost an instant thing, several sets of eyes all on Roman, most of which trying to anticipate and navigate his next move.

Meanwhile, Roman’s mouth shifts, his nose snarled as he finds himself shouting, Dwayne again having to hold him back from lunging. “Or else what!”

Rikishi’s voice is eerily calm as he answers in an even voice, “they will make you divorce Solana and take a new wife of their choosing this time.”

————

There’s an emptiness she feels sitting in the patient room, waiting for the nurse to walk in. Roman’s absence is noticeable and heavy, and she hates it. Hates that this is yet another thing that she has to keep from him.

That she’s chosen to keep from him, because at this point, these are choices she’s making. 

She chose to not tell him about her potentially being pregnant. Chose to not tell him once the pregnancy was confirmed. And chose to still not tell him even as she sits at her first OB-GYN appointment.

And yes, all of that may be for good reasons, for her wanting to protect and be mindful of where he is mentally and emotionally.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that it sucks.

And that it hurts.

It hurts a lot. 

Following a small knock and opening of the door, Solana looks up from her lap and wipes away at her blurry gaze, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s just walked in. “Hello.”

She’s young, probably close to Solana’s age, her scrubs revealing a slim, lithe figure. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders and frames her features nicely. She’s a stunning woman. 

A woman, however, who fails to reciprocate Solana’s kind gesture. Not right away, at least. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she greets, “Mrs. Reigns. I didn’t—they didn’t tell me it was you…..give me just one minute?” The nurse doesn’t wait for a reply, just leaves a confused Solana sitting in the patient room wondering just what the hell is going on.

She’s just about ready to step out into the hallway when the nurse returns, quietly closing the door behind her. “I’m so sorry.” 

Solana has to ask, nails nervously tapping against the bed. “Is….is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she answers. Quickly. Too quickly. “Shit, no.” Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she walks over to Solana and offers one of the wildest introductions ever. “My name is Sasha, and I know you don’t know me, and I’m probably crazy as hell for even telling you this, but I—I used to sleep with your husband.”

Solana’s shoulders slump at the same time her chest tightens. “W–what?”

Sasha’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head and explains. “It’s been months. Like not since the beginning of this year, but I—I was one of the ones…..” She presses her fingers to her temples. “God, this is so messed up. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I tried to see if another nurse could handle you, but everyone is busy and…..fuck.”

Fuck is most definitely the right world. Of all the places. Of all the nurses. Solana just so happens to get the one nurse who used to be one of her husband’s fuck buddies.

Go fucking figure.

“I haven’t spoken or done anything with him in months. I swear.” She then lifts her left hand to show off a beautiful engagement ring. “Funnily enough, this is actually my last week working here. My fiance—long story— and I are from the same town, and he just got a job back home, so we’re moving next week.” She adds in a bitter tone, “kinda wish it was this week now.”

With the absence of Solana’s voice, Sasha proceeds to fill the silence. “Mrs. Reigns, I really am sorry. I know I had no business still sleeping with your husband after you two got married, but we’d been….intimate on and off for years, and he was just someone—”

“Please,” Solana finally speaks, voice low and soft. “Please don’t. I—I get it.”

Because with the shock worn off and the discomfort waning, as irritating as this is, it doesn’t necessarily matter. 

This Sasha woman was Roman’s past. Solana knows that she’s his present and future, so from that logic, what reason does she have to be upset?

At least with Sasha.

She does, however, have a reason to be nervous.

Hand naturally falling to her stomach, she says in a much more desperate voice than she’d like, “you can’t tell anyone—”

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widen once more as she shakes her head. “Outing the Tribal Chief’s wife’s pregnancy is a sure way for me to go missing, and I’d actually like to make it down the aisle.” Sasha visibly tenses, suddenly asking in a lowered voice. “Wait, is he he—”

“No.” That’s it. That’s the only answer Solana can bring herself to give. And it seems enough, Sasha nodding before the two settle into an awkward silence.

“Is it okay if…..if we get started?”

Solana nods, still a bit boggled by the whole situation but recognizing that it’s not the priority. 

“Of course,” she agrees. 

All things considered, Sasha is the epitome of professionalism. She asks her questions, takes down the information given to her, draws Solana’s blood and directs her to the bathroom where the pregnant woman gives a urine sample, all while maintaining a calm, friendly disposition.

There’s nothing, surprisingly, awkward about it. 

And that’s appreciated. Shocking, too, given who she is and who she was to Roman. 

It’s only when she’s wrapping up her portion that she clears her throat again. “I hope this doesn’t come across as an inappropriate question and feel free to tell me to mind my damn business, but can I ask why Roman isn’t here?”

Solana is tempted, almost ready to take Sasha up on her suggestion to tell her to mind her own damn business, but there’s something so genuine about her question. A sadness in her voice and sympathetic look in her eyes. It seems to come from a place of genuine concern. 

Solana finds herself answering honestly. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Sasha makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should have never asked. It’s just….with how much he must care about you—”

“What makes you say that?” Solana knows the words to be true. Knows that Roman cares about her. Loves her. But how and why the woman in front of her knows this is what makes her slightly suspicious.

Sasha sighs, answering almost nervously, “a man like Roman Reigns doesn’t just cut off his entire roster of women in exchange for one if she doesn’t mean something to him.” She shrugs, adding on, “and I mean, look at what he did to Sam’s uppity ass.”

If not for the confusion, Solana would maybe chuckled a bit. She’s not heard one good thing about Sam from a single person. Not one. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you didn’t hear?” Sasha sucks her teeth, smiling a bit. “He had Nia whoop her ass. Well deserved, in my opinion.”

Solana gasps. “What?”

“Yup,” Sasha pops the ‘p.’ “Had her break that bitch jaw.”

Solana sits there stunned, briefly struggling to understand the reasons why only for it to come to her so easily.

The night of the fight. 

Sam’s cruel words to her in the bathroom. 

Solana told Roman. Roman said he’d handle it.

Clearly, that was how it was handled. 

“You be careful with that one though,” Sasha advises, expression shifting to something a bit serious. “She was always delusional believing Roman was gonna marry her ass. And a couple weeks ago, I saw her drunk in a bar lamenting about how much she hates you and can’t wait to—her words, not mine—give you exactly what you deserve.”

The words should bother her. Maybe even trigger a sense of concern. Solana recognizes that would be a normal reaction, especially given the world that they live in. However, concern and even fear are not the emotions that rise at Sasha’s information.

Anger.

Anger is the only thing she feels. 

Solana isn’t the same woman Sam cornered in the bathroom and talked down to.

She’s changed. Grown. Is better in so many ways and stronger in so many more.

So, Sam can try some shit if she wants to.

Solana is ready this time. 

“I’m not scared of her,” is all she says, hand falling protectively to her stomach. 

“I can see that,” Sasha says with a small smile, tapping on the screen a couple more times. “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Dr. Sharmell will take over the rest.” She pauses. “Like I said, this is my last week here, so Alexa or Jakara will probably be your nurse moving forward, but I just wanna say congratulations. You seem like you’re gonna be a great mom.”

Eyes watering, Solana can only mumble a quiet, heartfelt, “thank you.” 

Sasha doesn’t say anything else before walking out the room, leaving Solana alone for not even five minutes before there’s a knock on the door followed by an entrance.

“Mrs. Reigns?” An African-American woman with smooth brown skin, a wrinkle free complexion and pearly whites. Her smile is amenable and her disposition warm. She walks over, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sharmell. I’ll be your OB-GYN. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Solana can only reciprocate the smile and gesture, shaking the older woman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s—it’s nice to meet you too. You….you can call me Solana.”

She looks a bit taken back but nods. “Solana, it is.” Moving over to the screen, she double checks a couple things that Sasha had already asked. Asks a couple more questions, mostly regarding if there’s been any concerns regarding the pregnancy thus far. The answer is no.

Solana prays it stays that way.

“Okay, well, I see you had a pap smear at the beginning of the year, so I won’t do one of those again. The labs I ordered are standard procedure just to make sure your levels are good, and from what I can see based off your hCG levels, it does look like this is a multiples pregnancy.” Solana has no major reaction to this, as it was already hinted/told to her by Dr. Michaels. “But, let’s do an ultrasound and double check, okay?” She gives Solana a look that’s of a questioning nature, like she wants to make sure this is an okay trajectory.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she answers in a quiet voice.

However, it’s when Dr. Sharmell starts to move the machine around that Solana notices something that zaps the comfort and calmness she was experiencing up until his point. “Wait, is that—do we have to do a transvaginal ultrasound?”

Just saying it aloud makes her stomach twist in all of the wrong ways.

Dr. Sharmell nods. “Based upon the date of your last menstrual cycle, you should be right at 10 weeks, and internal ultrasounds are best practices for pregnant women still in their first trimester.” Solana’s discomfort must be written all over her face, prompting the older woman to ask, “are you okay?”

Sniffling, Solana wipes at her now tearing eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly sharing, “I was raped as a child and…..I just….things down there…..”

And this is why Solana would give anything to have Roman here with her, because she knows his presence, holding his hand, having him here reassuring her that she’s safe would help her be able to tolerate the exam.

But, he’s not here, and the thought of being penetrated, even if for medical reasons, is something that has her heart racing and anxiety spiking. 

Dr. Sharmell is nothing but sympathetic as her face morphs into something almost solemn. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She shakes her head. “I can do a pelvic one instead. It may not show everything, but it’ll show enough for now. Okay?”

Solana can only nod and close her eyes as Dr.Sharmell shifts gears, handing her a sheet to cover up her lower half. Solana then proceeds to raise up the hospital gown to expose her belly. The gel is cool, a nice, chilling sensation to help settle her nerves. But, it’s when the doctor makes a sound that she opens her eyes and shifts her focus to the screen. 

“I was right.” She shoots Solana a small, comforting smile. “Twins.” Eyes continuing to water, Solana looks in awe as Dr. Sharmell points to the screen. “This is Baby A.” Her finger travels around as does the transducer roaming her belly. “And this is Baby B.” 

So early on in her pregnancy, it’s hard to make out anything significant like arms, legs, and a head, because none of those have developed just yet. However, none of that matters, because they’re still her babies.

Her children. 

Confirmation that they’re alive, growing, and healthy.

It makes the tears spill over, the emotionality of it all overwhelming her in a sense. 

He should be here.

Roman should be here, experiencing this with her. 

But he’s not.

And all she can seem to think about is how this is wrong. 

All so wrong. 

————

It’s not a good time to be doing this.

Not in the slightest. Roman knows this, has the wherewithal to see and know that he’s not in the best place to even try to be open to something he doesn’t even want to be doing in the first place.

But, he also knows that he needs to. That he needs to do this. Whether he wants to or not. 

It’s not about him.

It’s about her.

It’s about doing what’s best for their marriage, and truthfully, if she can find it in her to do it, then so can he.

Marriage…..

Roman’s fist forms at his side as he rolls his shoulders while trying to settle the anger growing again at Rikishi’s words he has no doubt came directly from the Elders.

There’s also lingering feelings towards Jey and Solo, toward their disrespectful, borderline challenging behavior. Unacceptable on all fronts, thus he regrets nothing except maybe not reminding them both why they answer to him and call him Tribal Chief.

However, that’s minimal compared to Rikishi and his actions both today and toward Solana.  

But, while a part of him wants to believe that the son of a bitch was just trying to fuck with him with his statement about the Elders, a result of his anger and pride at being attacked, the logical part of Roman knows that’s not the case.

He knows Rikishi isn’t lying about that much.

It makes sense. Roman sensed there was some shit they were planning before Fetu had passed. Sensed that they were up to something, and this is clearly it.

It’s not going to happen though.

It’s one thing for Roman to reconsider ending his marriage to Solana for her own safety. It’s another for those prehistoric fuckers to try to tell him he needs to end his marriage to her.

Over his dead fucking body will that ever happen.

Roman will kill them all before he lets them take her from him.

Murder is obviously the last resort. Maybe. But as of right now, he hasn’t got another plan. A less violent way to handle this, but he’ll figure it out. 

He always does.

Even though the solution is rather simple, something that is very much a possibility now that their marriage has been consummated. 

Many times.

Many….many times. 

And in full transparency…..Roman had started to wonder. Her sickness. The fatigue. The vomiting. 

Started to wonder if maybe, just maybe…..

And then he pushed it away. Has pushed it away, because stress would also explain all of that as well. But beyond that, he knows that if it was that, Solana would have said something. 

And, she hasn’t, thus it’s not even worth thinking about further. 

So, until then, he’ll come up with a plan.

But, not right now. 

Now he’s got a whole other issue he’s sort of—not really—ready to tackle.

Because Roman’s already paper thin patience is waning by the second every time he glances at the clock on his phone to see another minute pass. Three. She’s three minutes late. And for some people, that would be insignificant, but not for Roman. Because every minute of the day is precious for him, spoken and accounted for with tasks to be completed.

So every minute wasted waiting on her is deducted from the total time he has in a day to get everything done, thus, he’s already got one strike against this woman before ever even meeting her.

Thankfully, a text from Solana manages to briefly pull him from his growing frustration and temptation to just leave.

Solana: You’re not getting back until late, right?

Roman: Yes. 

Roman: Why? You alright?

Solana: Yes. It’s just Bayley and Naomi are “making” me go with them to dinner tonight, but I don’t want to not be there when you get home….

Roman: Solana, go. I’ll be fine. 

Because he will. Emotionally, he still feels…..not great, but he doesn’t feel as numb and overwhelmed as he’s been the past few days. Even beyond that, his wife has been by his side this entire time, putting her own life on hold to focus and cater to him. And he’s grateful. Immensely. But, she needs to also focus on herself.

His feelings about Bayley and Naomi are still…..not the best, but he knows what they mean to Solana, and she needs this.

So, he wants her to have it.

Solana: Are you sure?

Roman: Positive

“Well, shit.” 

Roman looks up from his phone, instantly irritated because why the fuck is someone talking to him when he’s trying to text his wife?

And he’s even more annoyed at the sight of the red headed woman wearing jeans, boots, and a white short sleeved shirt that shows off the tattooed sleeve on her right arm. Bag over shoulder, cup of coffee in one hand, and keys in the other, she scoffs. “Yeah…..Gail wasn’t kidding when she said she had a challenging referral for me.” 

But, it’s when she speaks again that his scowl drops. Roman asks, “you the therapist?”

She shrugs, answering, “that’s what my clinical license says.” Turning away from him, she prompts, “come on. Sorry I’m late. People don’t know how to fucking drive.”

There’s a lot to process in this moment. The lateness. The almost unprofessional attire. The profanity. 

What in the hell did Gail sign him up for?

Nevertheless, Roman follows this woman into the office once she unlocks and opens the door. And again, another culture shock. His wife’s therapist office is the traditional cool tones, plants hanging near the window, some mental health shit on the wall and whatnot. And this….person still has that, but there’s nothing neutral and traditional about her setup. The sofa is red, a kaleidoscope of colors plastered everywhere from the rug to the pillows to even the tye-dye curtains that are pulled back with a bright green tie. And it’s the framed poster on the wall above the computer that reads, “feelings are weird and uncomfortable and shit’ that makes him chuckle.

One thing he can give her is that it’s nice to not have that…..therapy shit shoved down his throat.

Not when he’s already extremely uncomfortable with this whole thing.

“Make yourself at therapy home,” she encourages, going to hang her bag on the hook behind the now closed door. Roman sits down, still on edge but feeling less annoyed. “Name’s Lita, by the way. Not sure if Gayle mentioned it.”

“She didn’t,” he answers, watching how she walks over and plops down in her chair, grabbing her coffee off the desk where she’d placed it while getting the room set up.

“Well, it is,” she shrugs. Taking a sip, she then informs, “I’ll call you Roman.”

Instantly, the irritation is reappearing. “Did I say you could call me by my first name?”

Lita gives him a look, asking in an even voice, “do you seriously expect me to call you My Tribal Chief?” She chuckles at her almost mocking tone, mumbling before snagging another sip. “That’s not happening.”

Roman finds himself asking, both rhetorically and literally, “what the hell kind of therapist are you?”

Because while his only experience with this profession has been through Solana, through Gail and even Stratus, the differences are stark. These women are day compared to Lita’s night.

“The kind who works with people. Not titles.” Reaching to place her coffee on the small table beside her, she explains. “The Tribal Chief is what you are. It’s not who you are. Who you are is Roman Reigns, and that’s who I’m interested in working with.” She gestures around her room. “In this space, you’re just a person, and something tells me that’s not a space you get to be in a lot in your life.”

He’s quiet. For a couple of reasons. The main one being that he’s having a bit of a hard time finding a point of disagreement. Her delivery is absurd, borderline disrespectful, but it’s not….it’s not entirely wrong. 

“So how’s this shit supposed to work?” He asks, allowing himself to lean back on the sofa, muscular arms crossed over one another.

Lita shrugs once more. “However you want it to work.” And before he can push back on her vague ass answer, she supplies, “my approach is I don’t make you do anything. I help you get to a point where you want to do things.”

“Like?” 

“Actually work on and process shit.”

“That’s probably not gonna happen.”

Lita chuckles, standing up and walking over to her desk. Roman watches her pull open a drawer where she grabs a notebook and pen. She then walks back over and reaches said items to him. “Here. Take these.”

Roman looks at her with disinterest but still accepts said items. “Alright, I want you to write down why you’re here right now. I’m not gonna see it, not gonna read it, not even gonna keep it. That’s for you. I just want you to be honest with yourself and preferably me, but we’ll get you there.”

Roman looks slightly confused but still understanding of what she’s asked of him. Lita grabs her coffee and falls back into the chair. “Get to writing.”

A scowl reappears. This demanding shit is gonna have to most definitely be addressed. 

Roman doesn’t get demanded.

Even though he most definitely finds himself writing shit down.

Control my anger/blackouts (around my wife—I don’t care about anyone else)

And that’s it.

“Done.”

Lita lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?”

She scoffs, “you head the two biggest criminal organizations in the world and only need less than a minute to list things you want to work on?” She shakes her head, directing,“try again.”

Roman is irritated. This smart mouth of hers is getting old. “I don’t need—”

“I said try again,” Lita says in an almost softer voice. “Remember, be honest with yourself.”

There’s something both triggering and eye-opening about that latter statement. Honesty is something Roman has always valued, but when it’s directed toward and about himself, there seems to be difficulty. 

Solana….she’s helped a lot with that, and he’d probably feel less hesitant and more forthcoming if it was her he was talking to, but as great a support system his wife is for him, he knows he can’t put it all on her.

The same way, deep down, he knows he can’t continue to bottle shit up like he’s been doing.

Roman swallows before starting to list without thinking, refusing to allow his brain to interfere with what weighs his heart down when he strips back all the thick layers of protection.

Feeling guilty about Fetu’s death

Feeling guilty about my family’s murders

Feeling guilty about surviving

Feeling guilty about Solana’s attempt

Feelings towards my mom

Feelings about fatherhood someday

Not feeling good enough for Solana

Feeling like I have to be perfect to be loved

Being codependent with Solana

Matteo

Other shit

Roman can list it, but that’s it. Talking about or even thinking about what he wrote down is just….it’s too much right now.

“Done,” he mutters, taking it upon himself to fold up said paper that he stuffs in his pocket. 

“Good.” Lita nods. Standing up once more, she moves over to a bin near the bookshelf, pulling out a red, familiar box. “Now let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Roman is disgusted all over again when she walks over, holding the biggest box of fucking Uno he’s ever seen. “Do I look like a child?”

“Technically, there’s a child in all of us,” she counters. Roman watches her pull the massive stack of cards out of the box. “Now this is actually feelings Uno.”

“Feelings Uno?” It keeps getting worse. So much worse. “What the hell is that?”

Rolling her eyes while she expertly manages to shuffle through the giant cards, Lita explains, “Red is anger. Blue is sadness. Yellow is joy. And Green is a free for all, meaning you get to decide whatever emotion you want it to be on your turn. You play a card and then talk about whatever emotion goes with the card color.” The steps are clear and to the point, but Roman is still struggling with the fact that this woman seriously wants to play a whole ass game with him. “Considering it’s only our first session, I’ll take it easy on you. You only have to answer when you play a red card.”  She smirks, equally distributing cards to the both of them. “Something tells me anger won’t be too difficult for you to talk about.”

She’s not….not entirely wrong. 

Roman asks while looking over at his colorful cards. “You stack?” Playing a game is truly preferred than talking about….feelings and shit.

“You trying to talk about several different upsetting events at once?” She asks, laughing a little when he rolls his eyes. “No. No stacking. This time.” Leaning over, she plops the first card down for their pile. “And to show you I can sometimes be one of those overly nice therapists, I’ll go first.” Roman watches her lay down a matching red card, sharing so casually, “well, I felt angry as hell when I came home from school when I was thirteen and found out my abusive, piece of shit dad had not only offed himself but took my mom and little brother with him.” 

Silence. Almost everything about this woman in the less than twenty minutes that he’s known her has been unexpected, but that has to take the cake. The casualty in her voice is a stark contest to the weight of the confession. It has him partially stumped, cause what the fuck does one say to that?

He goes with the only thing he knows and can think to say in the moment. “Why the hell would you tell me that?”

There’s a bit of a shift in her countenance. Her voice softens as she explains, “it’s important you know when we’re working together and I say that I understand life can be a shitshow, I’m not talking about fucking Starbucks messing up my order.”

He doesn’t comment on her disclosure nor her follow up comment. He just lays down his own red card, sharing, “felt angry at my mom when she told me one time that my half brother was the son she wanted, not me.”

Lita makes a sound. “Parents are just wonderful, aren’t they?”

Roman says nothing, the two of them easily falling into this space of sharing and not really elaborating. Just putting it out there, building some strange form of rapport that feels almost natural to him.

And it’s through this process that Gail’s comment regarding this whole therapy thing returns to him. “I have someone in mind who will either be a perfect fit for you or the worst referral I’ve ever provided.”

And strangely enough, Roman is leaning toward the former of those two paths.

————

Solana has always felt deeply aligned with the saying, “if it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” Always felt that perfectly described many of her life experiences. It’s something that’s waned drastically since being married to Roman but has still popped up from time to time.

And sadly, this is one of those times.

Because now not only is she sitting on a letter given to her by Roman’s late aunt that she requested only be given to him when the time was “right,” a pregnancy that now her husband’s ex fuck buddy knows about before him, but now another letter addressed to Solana.

From her mother.

A letter Solana has never seen before today when she was trying to reorganize her library/art room after Roman canceled their lunch date, citing being unable to escape meetings.

She believes him, of course. It’s just that it would have been preferred to this.

Yet one more thing for her to work through.

In all actuality, it should be easy for Solana to just open the damn letter. Read it and get it over with. But the weight of it, the amount of pages she can feel through the envelope, and the fact that it’s in a separate letter instead of a journal, has her concerned.

Solana’s mom always wrote to her in journals, so the fact that this is not in a journal…..it has her worried.

Which is why it remains untouched, laid out on the bathroom counter with Fetu’s letter along with the sonogram photo she received just earlier today. Both pulled from their respective hiding spots in her art room/home library.

Solana is trying to figure all this out while doing her makeup for dinner. A nice, necessary distraction as she spends a little extra time covering up the bruise. The darkness and hyperpigmentation have gone down tremendously, which she’s immensely grateful for. Especially given the fact that Roman hasn’t commented on it in a while. She knows he sees it, can see the slight cringe he still does at the sight,  but his guilt seems to have dwindled moderately, which is deeply appreciated.

Even if it’s because he’s battling a different type of grief now. And it’s staring at the envelope from Fetu that Solana allows herself to really think about if the right time is now. It would be so easy to just give it to him, to not have to have that weight on her shoulders. And maybe she should have done it sooner, done it during his week of depression and dissociation.

But, she was just so worried that it could somehow make things worse. That it was too soon. 

And, it still feels too soon. Solana isn’t entirely sure what the right time is…..but, it doesn’t feel like now.

Maybe….maybe in another week or so. Besides, Fetu trusted her to give Roman the letter, so the older woman must have trusted her judgment….right?

What is and has been the right time for some time now, however, is this pregnancy. Solana can’t keep hiding this from him. He deserves to know. He always deserved to know, and while her intentions were always good, that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s in the wrong.

She needs to tell him.

And, she will.

Tonight.

It still doesn’t sit right with her to spring this on him while he’s still trying to process such a massive loss. But, it’s even more not right to tell his doctor, to attend these appointments, to be ten weeks along, almost three months along and him still be in the dark.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t deserve that.

And as if on cue, her phone dings with a text from the man of the hour himself.

Roman: I love you

Such simple words that put the biggest, deepest smile on her face. She is quick to respond with reciprocation.

Solana: I love you, too. ❤️

Solana: Everything alright?

She taps her nails against the phone screen, staring at the three dots as he types.

Roman: Yeah.

Roman: Just wanted to say it.

And a sigh of awe leaves her, imagining him saying as such instead of texting it. A softness in his voice and gaze reserved only for her. 

Solana: Well, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. ☺️

Solana: I’m getting ready to head out.

Roman: Okay. Text me when you get there.

Solana: Will do.

Feeling slightly better at having some sense of direction moving forward as well as an unexpected, sweet exchange with her husband, Solana sends a text to Bayley and Naomi to let them know she’s on her way. Eyes glued to the phone, she isn’t paying much or enough attention to the fact that two items slide off the counter and onto the floor as she grabs a single envelope.

Bautista serves as her guard again, not that she has any issue with that. Solo is fine, has been fine, for the most part, since his apology at the gala, but Bautista….there’s something different about him.

Despite his intimidating, frightening presence, there’s a warmth in the older man that vastly contrasts Solo’s coldness. Not to mention his sage words regarding just who she is and the power that title gives her has truly been groundbreaking. It’s something she plans to never forget.

The drive leans on the side of shorter rather than longer, Solana walking into the restaurant, being escorted to the back where Bayley and Naomi wait. As soon as their eyes are on her, they’re standing up, each pulling her in for hugs.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Naomi whispers in her ear, followed by Bayley’s hug as she straight up asks, “Solana, what the hell has been going on?”

But, it’s only after the waitress comes, takes their orders, and she texts Roman that she’s arrived that the words start to spill out. 

A heavy sigh leaves the mouth of the Tribal Chief’s wife as she sits down in the chair, placing her purse in the other empty chair. A quick glance to the left reveals Bautista sitting at a nearby table. Not too close but close enough where he could act if something were to go down.

“I know….I know I’ve been distant.” Distant seems like not a strong enough word, but it’s the best she’s got in this moment. “And, I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying ya’ll. That wasn’t my intention. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“Like what?” Naomi presses. “Solana, we don’t want to overstep, but the last time we’ve seen you was at training where you had a black eye. That was over two weeks ago with intermittent contact since. You’ve gotta give us something here.”

And Solana knows this. Knows that both of the women sitting across from her only mean well. From day one, they’ve been nothing but kind and supportive. Have only sought to help her as she reclaimed her voice and her life.

She owes them that much.

“I’m gonna tell you guys something, but you can’t say anything to anyone. Not a soul.” She focuses on Naomi. “Not even Jimmy.”

Bayley nods immediately. “Of course.” 

Naomi seems a bit reluctant. “I don’t like keeping things from my husband,” she admits. And Solana can’t and won’t fault her for that. “But, I can see this is important to you, so you have my word. I won’t say a thing.”

And Solana trusts it.

Trusts them.

Closing her eyes, she starts to answer, “Roman had…..he had a nightmare the night of his fight with Drew. Drew said something to him, and it messed with his head. I won’t say what. It’s not my place.” Because it isn’t. Nor is it relevant to the conversation at hand. “It was a bad nightmare, and I was trying to wake him up and when I finally did, he woke up swinging and accidentally hit me. He had no idea what he was doing, and he felt awful afterwards. He even…..he even compared himself to my dad and brother.”

The shocked expressions on their faces match the disgust Solana feels at Roman even being in the same sentence as those two men, let alone the same category.

“So yes, he did technically hit me, but it wasn’t intentional.” Solana finds herself adding, “and that’s why I got so upset, because for all that Roman is and can be, I was frustrated that you guys believed he could ever do something like that to me.”

“You’re right,” Bayley sighs, shaking her head. “I think we just saw the black eye and assumed it was because of what happened with Drew…..” She stops herself, correcting. “It was wrong though, and I’m sorry.”

“We both are,” Naomi agrees. “But, not for worrying about you.”

“Never that,” Bayley chuckles, lifting up her phone with a small smirk. “You’ve had the newbies hitting us up nonstop wondering if we’ve heard from you.”

“Girl, got us all in a group chat and everything called SOSlana.” Naomi proves this by pulling up her phone and sharing her screen where Solana can sure enough see the name of the group chat.

It makes her laugh. A much needed thing. “I know I need to catch up with them too, but ya’ll deserved to speak with me first.” Cause as amazing as Melina, Cam, and Mickie have been, Bayley and Naomi were there first.

The loyalty goes a lot deeper.

“Maybe we can reschedule the girls trip for all of us. Like in two weeks?” Bayley suggests. A glance at Naomi provides a nod of agreement. “Solana?”

Hesitation. On one hand, she’d like to say yes, but on the other, she just doesn’t know. Because something tells her when she tells Roman about the pregnancy tonight, he’s about to be a hell of a lot stricter regarding her outings. And she understands it fully. Understands why her being the pregnant wife of the Tribal Chief means a different layer of protectiveness.

“Let me run it by Roman first,” she finally answers. “He’s….he’s going through something right now, and I need to be there for him.” Not a lie. The absolute truth. 

“Yeah, Jimmy’s been acting kind of off too. I think something’s going on with the Bloodline.” She shakes her head and transitions into elaboration. “Just earlier today, I overheard him arguing with his brothers and dad.”

“Which brothers?” Bayley beats Solana to the punch by asking a very valid question.

“Jey and Solo,” Naomi answers. Solana does her best to maintain a neutral expression, but it’s hard. There’s something almost unsettling about that, though she can’t put her finger on the why. “It didn’t go well. They all ended up basically marching out the house, slamming my doors and everything.”

Curious, Solana can’t stop herself from asking, “did Jimmy tell you what the argument was about?”

A pause. A noticeable pause. “Not really. I’m sure they’ll get it together though.” As Naomi takes a sip of her champagne, Solana does her best not to look or think too deeply about the obvious deflection.

To be fair, Solana is firm about her boundaries regarding certain things discussed between herself and her husband. 

Why can’t Naomi get the same grace? 

Solana is grateful for the arrival of the food, appreciative of the diversion of topics, because Naomi is certainly right. Something is most definitely going on with the Bloodline. A major loss that’s mostly impacted Roman but Jimmy and Jey as well, most likely.

But, Solana can’t and won’t comment on that.

Providing her girls with some insight regarding a bit of what’s been going on is a nice distraction for Solana. Laughter is always good for the soul, and being around her sisters never ceases to bring about a healthy amount of that.

The merriment makes it hard for her to not imagine what their reaction will be to finding out she’s pregnant. The way they’ll absolutely gloat and squeal, especially when they learn that she’s having twins. The baby shower that they’ll plan is destined to be one for the ages. 

And she looks forward to it all. 

But first….. first she must talk to her husband. 

It’s about an hour into dinner when Solana feels her bladder screaming at her to be emptied. “I’ll be right back,” she excuses herself, taking her purse with her for good measure. Mouthing bathroom to Bautista, Solana makes her way to the back, pleased to see that the stalls are all empty. 

There’s such a weird relief at no longer having that pressured feeling, expelling her bladder like she didn’t use the bathroom shortly before leaving the house. 

Frequent urination.

It’s one of the symptoms Dr. Sharmell mentioned she might start seeing soon at this point in her pregnancy.

She wasn’t wrong. 

Flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink, Solana attempts to toss her purse on the counter only for it to go tumbling to the floor, some of the contents falling out. Cursing quietly, she washes her hands first before bending down to stuff the items back in her bag, grateful her phone wasn’t one of the tumbled objects. However, it’s something else that manages to capture her full attention. 

The envelope with her name written on the outside.

Slow hands reach for it, trembling fingers tracing over her name so beautifully signed, her mother’s penmanship something worthy of all the jealousy. But, jealousy isn’t what Solana is feeling in this moment. 

Curiosity is.

A growing feeling gnawing at her that whatever is contained within this envelope needs to be unveiled and read. Needs to be freed after so many years of confinement. And, it makes no sense how Solana went from avoiding doing such a thing to readying to do it in the public restroom at a restaurant.

She knows it’s not the best decision, that it’s bound to make her emotional, make her cry. 

And yet…..the right timing.

Roman is grieving and about to find out that he’s a father. There’s so many layered, complex emotions in that alone that she’s truly lost as to how he’s supposed to manage that and helping her sort through whatever emotions will follow the reading of this letter. It also seems unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with so much.

But Bayley and Naomi…..they could. They could be her sources of support. They’ve been wanting to be said sources, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time to take them up on that offer.

Solana releases a deep, shaky breath while rising to her feet, taking her purse off the floor with her. Walking over to the door, she turns the lock and moves back over to the counter. Leaning back against the counter, Solana takes one more efficient breath before still trembling fingers carefully pry open the letter. Solana unfolds several sheets of paper.

And she begins to read. 

My Dearest Solana,

If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer living. I wish with everything in me that is not the case, and everything will go according to plan, so that what I am about to write will be told to you from my lips instead of read from this letter.

But, I cannot be naive. I must be realistic and prepare for all outcomes.

Solana, what I am about to tell you is going to be difficult, and you may never forgive me, may even hate me, but please know I never ever intended to hurt you, my sweet girl.

I was 23 years old when I met “Xavier Miller”. He claimed to be in Mexico on sabbatical from work. Said he was a “businessman.” I believed him. I believed everything he told me. All the false hopes he put in my head about bringing me to America and helping me get into medical school so I could become a doctor. Believed him when he said once we got settled, he’d pay for my parents to get passports so that they could visit. I believed it all. He was charming and handsome and kind, and I wanted so deeply to be in love that I fell for it all. 

After three months of us knowing each other, he proposed. I said yes. My parents did not agree. They believed we were rushing things. They were right, but I was too naive. I listened to my heart and only my heart. I fell in love with this man who promised me the world, promised to always love and take care of me. 

I spoke very little English, but he promised to help me learn once we moved to the States. He was adamant about me coming to America with him, said it would open up more doors, specifically helping me achieve my dream of being a doctor. 

And, I was determined, so I married him and came to America.

The decision will forever haunt me.

Our first night as “husband” and “wife” was the first time he raped and beat me. I woke up the next morning bruised and bloody. It was only then I saw the real him for the first time. He told me I would never see my family again, and if I ever tried to contact them or leave him, he would kill me. That same morning is when he informed me of who he really was.

A mafia man.

And right then and there, I knew my life was over.

I will not further traumatize you with details. But, it was...horrific. 

I thought once I gave him a son, which is what he eventually told me he what wanted from the very beginning—a “stupid woman” he could “control” and “breed”--- that he would lessen his cruelty. And, he did, to some extent. 

He allowed me to start volunteering at the hospital, which was truly only because he wanted me away from Wes. He said I would make him “soft.” The same hurtful thing he says about you. 

But, this ended up changing my life, because it was through volunteering that I met someone. His name was Darnell, and he was a medical student doing clinical rotations. Again, I do not wish to sully you with the details, so I will just say it.

I started an affair with Darnell, and I regret nothing, Solana. He was the first man I ever really loved who showed me what it meant to truly be loved by a man. It was dangerous for both of us, and I tried to break it off, tried to tell him what could happen if we were ever caught, but he didn’t care. He wanted to help me find a way out, because he loved me, and I loved him.

But then everything changed when I found out I was pregnant. Initially, I was distraught. Xavier was still raping me, trying to get me pregnant, and the thought of having his child again sickened me.

But, when I went to my appointment and learned how far along I was, I realized that the time I conceived was when Xavier was away on a business trip.

He wasn’t the father.

Darnell was.

And, I was so happy, so overjoyed, my love. You have no idea. 

Throughout the pregnancy, Darnell and I tried to come up with plans. Tried to figure out a way we could escape. Me, Him, Wes, and our babies.

I was pregnant with twins.

But, the closer the time came, the more fearful I became that even if we somehow escaped, Xavier would find us and kill us all. He always threatened to kill me if I tried to take Wes from him. 

So the plan changed to one that broke my heart and Darnell’s, but we agreed it was the safest thing for us to do. We were able to have some of the hospital staff assist us with this plan, which made a world of difference.

It truly did.

When I gave birth to you, I gave birth to your twin brother as well. A brother who Darnell took, while I kept you. And, I told Xavier, who did not come to the hospital until the next day, that my boy didn’t make it. 

He was livid. So angry that he forced the hospital to give me a hysterectomy.

He said I would not “fail” him again.

The plan was for me to wait until you were older, at least one, and then we would try to make the move, but what I didn’t expect was for Xavier’s cruelty towards me to increase. He became significantly worse to the point where it was impossible for me to do anything without him knowing. He refused to allow me to volunteer at the hospital, which cut me off from all the people who were going to help me reunite with Darnell and my other child.

And instead made my life even more of a living hell, but now he was subjecting you to the same treatment.

He always blamed you for the “death” of your brother. That’s why he’s always hated and resented you. Because you “lived” and the boy “did not.” He never wanted daughters. Only sons. 

Solana, I know this is a lot. I know that I am putting so much on you, and I am so sorry, my love. There is just so much you need and deserve to know, and I just have to make sure you know one way or another.

It was selfish of me to keep you. I should have let Darnell take the both of you, but I always wanted a daughter. Wanted to have a piece of him with me as well. But, my selfishness subjected you to all kinds of horror, and I’m so so sorry, mija. 

But, Darnell is your father. And, you have a twin brother. And if all goes to plan tomorrow, you, me, Wes, your real father and your other brother will finally be able to be a family. You’ll have the family you always deserved but I deprived you from.

And words cannot express how sorry I am, my sweet Sol. Because the fact of the matter is that I was being selfish. It was selfish and wrong of me to not let you go with your father, to keep you in an abusive household with an abusive man.

It was wrong, and I am sorry.

But…

In the event something goes wrong, I just needed you to know the truth. Because if something happens to me, I need to make sure you at least know where you really come from.

And that’s not Nina Miller and Xavier Miller. 

It’s Darnell Adams and Alma Escobar.

My name is not Nina.

It’s Alma.

Alma Escobar. 

Xavier made me change my identity when I came here to avoid my family finding me. And, it worked, because Xavier also lied about his name when we first met. He made it up. It was all a part of his plan to get me in America and make me his slave. 

It’s why my family was probably never able to find me. They were looking up one name that never existed and another name that would never exist again.

But, that brings me to my next part. 

My mother’s name is Paloma Escobar, and my father’s name is Ricardo Escobar. I have two uncles: Bernardo and Tomas.

If I have the chance and this plan works, I will finally take you and your brothers to Isla Mujeres to meet your family. You deserve that much and so much more. 

Again, this is so so much to drop on you, mija, but I don’t have much time. 

Solana, that is why I have always called you “my Sol.” Because phonetically, Sol sounds like “soul,” which is what my real name really means. YOU are my soul and an extension of myself, just infinitely better.

Never forget, my amazing girl, that you are smart and beautiful and kind and have such a pure soul. You must never forget any of that.

And one day, you are going to grow into a beautiful young woman, find a kind young man who loves and treats you the way you deserve, and you will be an amazing mother. 

And that, my love, will be your happy ending.

I pray to God that I will live to see all of this, be around for all of it, but if I am not, know that I loved you infinitely in this life and will continue to love you infinitely in the next.

Forever your Hummingbird,

Alma 

Breathing.

A simple, easy thing that’s suddenly impossible for Solana. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t compute any of what she’s just read. Only one sentence of so many shell-shocking revelations circulates in her head, thudding against her consciousness.

Xavier wasn’t her father.

He wasn’t her father. 

There’s so many things embedded and included in this confession of sorts, but that’s the one thing Solana can’t seem to pull away from.

The man who was responsible for the murder of her mother and her attempted murder was not her real father.

The man who was responsible for her rape was not her real father.

The man who almost beat her to death and threatened to finish the job was not her real father. 

The man who she so desperately wanted to love her like fathers should love daughters but never could. And not just because he was incapable of love. No. It was because he wasn’t her real father.

Solana almost stumbles to the ground, one hand going behind her to hold onto the counter to keep her upright.

This….this was a mistake.

She should have never read this letter.  

Ever.

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, she releases the papers and places a hand over her chest, closing her eyes, and working to regulate herself. She manages to pull from the coping skills learned in therapy as she tries to find some anchor of sorts to keep her grounded instead of drowning in the panic that threatens to overtake her.

Too much.

It’s just too much to process.

Too much to sit on. 

She just can’t.

Solana is sniffling, silent tears running down her face as she places her other free hand on her belly. She can’t fall apart. Not right now. Not like this. And not with the babies growing in her belly. 

They need her to pull it together. To be strong. 

Needing a reminder of sorts, she digs through her purse with wobbly hands for the photo that depicts the two tiny lives growing inside of her. 

There’s only one problem. 

The sonogram photo isn’t in her purse.

Solana’s glossy eyes scan the floor to see if she somehow missed it, only for that to come back a deadend given the emptiness of the pristine tile. 

Solana frantically digs through her purse once more realizing the photo isn’t the only thing missing.

So is Fetu’s letter.

And now yet another massive weight is dropped onto her chest with the terrifying realization of what she’s done.

“Oh no….” Trembling hands fold back up the sheets and stuff them back into the envelope that she shoves in her bag. Solana’s legs can’t move fast enough as she unlocks and rips the door open, making her way over to that table where Bayley and Naomi are laughing. 

It’s when their gaze lands on her, however, that the laughter dies down. “Solana, what’s—”

“I have to go,” she interrupts, unable and partially uninterested in offering the truth as to why. Because she can’t. She can barely fucking think straight right now, let alone try to explain the magnitude of what just happened.

What could happen if she doesn’t get home. 

Fast.

Bayley is the one to push. “Wait, Solana, you can’t just—”

“Please,” she begs, eyes watering. “It’s….it’s Roman. I have to get home.” Not a lie, just an answer that probably insinuates a severity that does not equate to the actuality of the situation. Or, maybe it does. “I’ll….I’ll explain later, but I have to go now.” 

Naomi and Bayley share a look, clearly not liking this sudden shift in energy, and Solana can’t blame them. However, she can’t focus on that right now. Not when her world has just been turned upside down.

“Okay,” Naomi concedes with a sigh, “but at least text us when you get home.”

“I will.” That much Solana can promise. Hopefully. “Thank you.” Both women only answer with a nod as Solana gestures to Bautista. “Come on.”

Wordlessly, he gets up and leads her out of the restaurant. 

Solana is a nervous wreck the entire drive home. Knee bouncing, heart racing, intermittent tears. This is not how she expected this day to go. It’s almost too unbelievable to be true.

There’s too many things for her to sit on and sift through. Her pregnancy. Fetu dying. Her mother’s letter. Now this?

Solana wipes at her eyes. It’s just all too much. And the fact that trying to call Roman only led to the phone ringing two times before going straight to voicemail only makes things infinitely worse.

Roman has never sent her to voicemail before. 

The drive to the mansion is really only a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels so much longer. Torturously longer.

The SUV is barely in park before she’s whipping the door open and running towards the house, heels in one hand because she can’t have any sort of interference. 

“Roman!” She calls out his name the minute she steps foot inside of their home only to be met with silence.

And for that brief second, there’s relief. A respite from all the heaviness as she rushes up the stairs, ready to grab the letter and photo off the bathroom counter to hide them again before he gets home.

Before he finds out the two major secrets she’s been sitting on without her being able to tell him herself.

But, that’s a short lived fantasy, one that’s killed the moment she’s standing in the doorway of their master bedroom.

“No….”

Solana drops her shoes at the sight of her husband sitting on the side of their bed, facing the door, papers in hand, a now opened envelope beside him along with a photo.

The sonogram.

Her heart breaks.

“Roman, I—”

“Solana.” 

Never.

 Never has she heard her name leave his mouth with such anger and disgust. The same anger and disgust that’s written all over his handsome face as he asks, point, blank, period, “what the hell is going on?”

[jacqueline-01]

OK I'm thinking aaron hotchner x wife!reader when he was sent to the middle east for a short bit to run a task force but then instead of him coming back for a "case" like he thought reader pulls him to the side and tells him he's gonna be a daddy for a second time! Just fluff

Mission: Daddy 2.0

A.H x Wife!Reader

Pure Fluff

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t entirely sure what he was walking into. After weeks overseas, running a special task force in the Middle East, he’d expected a quiet return, maybe a subdued evening with you and Jack. But the minute he stepped through the front door, he knew something was different.

For one, you were practically buzzing with excitement, your energy so infectious it made his jet-lagged brain suspicious.

“You’re back!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him before he could even set his bag down.

He laughed, the sound low and warm as he hugged you tightly. “I’m back,” he agreed, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “Miss me?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you said, looking up at him with a sly smile. “You hungry? Tired? Or are you up for… a surprise?”

That got his attention. “A surprise?” he repeated, his profiler instincts kicking in. “Should I be worried?”

You grinned mischievously, grabbing his hand. “Only if you hate good news. Come on, sit.”

Hotch allowed himself to be pulled into the living room, where you all but pushed him onto the couch. He sank into the cushions, his curiosity growing by the second as you began to pace in front of him, clearly trying to find the right words.

“Okay,” you started, hands on your hips. “So, you know how Jack’s been asking for a sibling?”

His eyebrows shot up, caught completely off-guard by the question. “I… do. You told him to ask Santa.”

You pointed at him. “Exactly! Which was a brilliant distraction, thank you. But, uh…” You trailed off, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“But?” he prompted, leaning forward.

“But it turns out, we might’ve beaten Santa to it,” you blurted, throwing your hands up as if to say, Surprise!

For a moment, he just blinked at you, clearly trying to connect the dots. Then his gaze dropped to your stomach—though there wasn’t a visible change yet—and darted back up to your face.

“Wait,” he said slowly, his tone incredulous but tinged with dawning realization. “Are you saying…?”

You couldn’t hold back your grin any longer. “I’m pregnant, Aaron. We’re having another baby!”

His reaction wasn’t immediate. Instead, he sat there for a beat, looking almost comically frozen. Then—like a switch had been flipped—he was on his feet, closing the distance between you in two long strides.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice breathless as his hands found your waist.

“Completely serious,” you replied, laughing at the way his face lit up.

He let out a stunned laugh, pulling you into a tight hug. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks,” you admitted, resting your head against his chest. “I wanted to tell you in person, but it was torture keeping it to myself.”

Hotch leaned back, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and teasing exasperation. “You mean you let me get off a 14-hour flight and didn’t warn me I was about to have my life changed?”

You smirked, looping your arms around his neck. “I figured a little suspense would keep you awake. Was I wrong?”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Not wrong. Just… unbelievable.” His hands slid to your stomach, resting there gently as if he were afraid of breaking the moment. “Another baby,” he murmured, his voice soft. “How do you feel?”

“Excited,” you said honestly, covering his hands with yours. “And a little nervous. But mostly excited. Jack’s going to lose his mind.”

That earned another laugh, and Aaron’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “He’s going to ask if he gets to name them.”

“Oh, absolutely. And the first suggestion will be something ridiculous, like ‘Spider-Man Hotchner.’”

“Or ‘Captain Jack,’” Aaron added dryly, earning a snort of laughter from you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the excitement settling into something quieter but no less joyous. Finally, Aaron tilted his head, a sly smile curving his lips.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve faced international criminals, interrogated spies, and worked with some of the most brilliant minds in the world. But somehow, you still manage to outsmart me.”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss him. “That’s because I’m the real mastermind in this family, Hotchner. Don’t forget it.”

“Never,” he murmured against your lips.

And as Jack came barreling down the stairs a few moments later, demanding hugs and peppering Aaron with questions, you knew this was only the beginning of a new, beautiful adventure for your growing family.

[queerdaisyjane]

this gorgeous woman was in your daughter's grade growing up. Her family lives in the neighborhood, she went to the same private schools as your kids, family went to the same church. You met after work by chance at a bar where you had gone with friends to watch a sports playoff. She was there with her sorority alum group. You bumped into her at the bar literally. You apologized, she smiled and laughed it off. You forgot about the game and bought her a drink “to make up for it.” You were into a different sort of game now. Never mind you’re over twice her age. You’re divorced now but still…. Your sleeves are rolled up, she’s tracing a pretty manicured nail along your forearm. She’s sitting turned on the barstool so your knees touch. Finally she asks for your phone. You ask why, suspiciously. She says, “so I can give you my number, silly!” You wait a couple of days to call. Your girlfriend is out of town, visiting friends. Friday night by yourself. Too boring to take, so you text the day before. She’s free. You meet at the place you suggest for dinner, kinda pricey French place, romantic, elegant, dark. You ask what’s she’s doing after, she says nothing. In town for a wedding tmr. Staying at —- hotel, ubered over here, so can you give her a lift back? In the car, says she likes your car, almost purring, maybe from the wine, she’s leaning on your arm, twisted around in her seat so you can see a little bit down her blouse, saw a flash of a pretty lace bra, nice tits, but you’re driving, maybe you’re imagining things. Get a hold of yourself, man! You pull up under the porte cocherè at her hotel, which you note is one of the nicest in town. You’re ready for her to get out and you be on your way, maybe a hug or a sweet kiss on the cheek at most. She says, casually as all hell, “you coming up?” In the elevator, a kiss. Yes, a real kiss, bodies touching, tongues entwined, honest-to-god kiss. Uh oh. Now you’re here in her room. She’s kneeling on the bed in her lingerie, you’re down to your t-shirt and boxer briefs, your dress shirt and suit pants hanging on a chair. She has a suite, of course. You don’t have to be in the bedroom, but you are, half naked. What’s your next move? Are you going to fuck your daughter’s grown-up school friend?

Bringing Delights To The Afternoon 🔥🔥🔥

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: Loser stalker fem reader, cocky mean dom yandere, dubcon 18+, choking, lot of force, grinding

◇◇♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡◇◇

"What the fuck are you doing?"

You jumped, flinching so hard that made your spine hurt. Cursing under your breath, you hesitantly turned back to look at the familiar face.

Jun was standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at you with scolding eyes. Every day, you hid behind the corner that faced the field. It was mostly empty except for the cute artsy kid that sat there. He would lean against the tree, sketching, and you would be there watching his profile.

"Um..." Your words died down in your throat. Jun could easily tell what you were doing. Stalking a poor boy who had no idea his classmate was obsessed with him. "Hi?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." He sternly said, stepping closer to corner you against the wall. "You've been avoiding me. You're not answering any calls or texts. I wanted to have lunch with you, but you'd rather spend your time doing this."

You would feel guilty, but your brain was too busy searching for excuses or ways to explain this situation. This looked back. Really bad.

A few moments passed with you looking at the floor, feeling the cold wall behind you. Jun clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze from you to the boy in the field.

You exhaled, trying to think of a way to preserve your dignity. "I know it's wrong... It's creepy and weird. But you have to understand-"

"Oh, I understand. I get it. You're trying to find love. Isn't that right?"

"Uh... I guess that's the end goal. But-"

He interrupted you again. "You're tired of being lonely and isolated. Which is why you're pushing the person who wanted to be your friend away."

"No, that's not..." You paused. "Sorry.."

"Instead of being with me, you're choosing that clumsy, pathetic piece of-"

You interrupted him this time. "Ethan. His name is Ethan. And he's perfect. He keeps to himself most of the time, just like me. We have a lot in common..."

He went quiet for a second, uncrossing his arms and putting them in his pocket. "You completely ruined my plans, y'know... I was trying so hard to take all of this slow. I was gonna have lunch with you, eventually ask you out on a date, and go from there. While you were here doing the same thing to another boy."

You blinked. Was he confessing to you? You were suspicious when the golden boy of the school wanted to be your friend, and now this?

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah. I was gonna bring you to your favorite café and treat you. But you clearly don't want all that normal healthy stuff, huh?"

"Uhh.." You just looked at him, looking from his gorgeous eyes to his flawless hair. Then, to the strong looking arms that came up to the wall behind you. "You're kidding."

"But I'm afraid that my intentions weren't all that pure. I was going to give you so much that you'll completely become dependent on me. And I could have you as mine forever."

"Were you stalking me? Is that how you found me here?" You slowly said, a bit unsure.

"Such a smart girl." Jun praised, bringing a hand to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb against your skin. "I'm just as sick as you."

You gripped his wrist, stopping him. "I need to think about this first."

"What is there to think about? Forget about that shy mutt. I'm so much better than him. What else could you possibly ask for?"

You shook your head, pushing his shoulders weakly. "No. Just move away..!"

"I get it. You need more convincing."

And just as he said that, his lips crashed into yours. He forced a kiss on you and grabbed the back of your head. He guided you to kiss him back, using your hair to manipulate you like a puppet. You stood there and let it happen, your hands moving down to press against his chest.

He licked your bottom lip, which you kept closed. You were unsure of what to make of this situation.

"Just open your mouth, okay? I want to kiss you deeper." He tilted his face to the right and forced you to tilt yours the other way. "I don't like repeating myself. Don't make me force you. I'm trying to prove a point here. You're mine, whether you like it or not. You wanted something unhealthy, well here it is."

You didn't want to oblige. There was something inside you that wanted to fight him. You gasped as Jun tugged your hair harshly, catching you by surprise. His tongue invaded your mouth. You tried to pull away, but your back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go. You started to like how he forced you to this. You wanted to be kissed since a long time ago. Just hadn't expected it to be from the overly confident and arrogant jerk.

His tongue moved around skillfully. You unintentionally moaned, feeling him smirk against your lips. The weird sensation felt good. You slowly closed your eyes and kissed back, shyly moving your tongue against his. His other hand went down to rest on your waist. He pulled you closer to him. Your bodies slightly rubbed against each other.

You were out of breath. Panting, still wanting to kiss him more. He tasted so so good. Like cherries. Maybe he ate some before this.

"You still there, sweetie? You look dazed. Was it that good?" Jun chuckled. He knew the effect he had on you. "I told you. I'm the greatest choice you'll ever make."

"I can't believe this..." That was all you could mumble. Your heart still throbbed for Ethan, but it wasn't really an option anymore. This was... something else. Something you could get used to. "I can't believe it..."

"I know, you're very lucky. Not everyone has an amazing, skillful boyfriend. Soon, you'll be addicted to me and my kisses."

He stroked the back of your hair, almost apologizing for pulling it before. Before you could protest against the term, he kissed you again, rubbing his tongue against yours lewdly. You obliged, not thinking much of it. It felt too good to pass up on.

"Want me to you some of these skills?" He whispered in your ear, blowing air on it. You squeaked, and he chuckled. "Your reactions are so cute, darling. I want to see more. I want more of you. Your taste, your smell, your everything. You're mine. I can just take whatever I want, right?"

Jun clicked his tongue in impatience. He started to kiss down your neck, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pinned them against the wall. "I wanted to take things slow. Even after all this. But I feel like you need a bit more convincing, hm?"

He licked a spot of your skin before biting down on it. You hissed in pain as he continued to angrily mark you. It seemed like he was jealous of what happened earlier. He sucked the spots he bit for a moment before pushing his thigh between your legs. "I swear if you lie eyes on that guy again, I'll hurt him really badly."

You felt dizzy. All this was too much for you. Your head was spinning, and you felt really good. Small hushed moans spilled from your lips when his knee rubbed you up and down. His hands sneaked up your shirt, hands caressing whatever skin he could find. "There we go. I can tell you're enjoying it. I mean.. Naturally."

You could feel his eyes bore on you, but you barely looked at him. Drowming in ecstasy while he kissed you again and again. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You gripped his shirt, clenching it in your fist.

He passionately kissed you again as you came, moaning into his mouth. He slowed down before stopping. A grin on his face. He looked so hot like this.

"Good girl! Oh sweetie~ Look how hard you made me."

You look down to see the buldge forming in his jeans. He rubs it against your thigh, trying to provoke more reactions out of you.

"Aww, you're shaking... Could it be you actually want to touch it?" He teased, rubbing it higher to your still sensitive spot.

"W-what? Nngh.. No! I never even agreed to be your girlfriend." He grips one of your wrists, putting it on the front of his pants. You yelp, trying to stop him. "No! Stop. We're in public!"

You paused at the realization. You tried to think of how loud you were, but the image just sent pleasure back to your core.

"We're behind an isolated corner. No one will find us here. My darling certainly knows how to pick the right places."

You look back at the tree, the boy was gone, and the field was completely empty. You breathed a sigh of relief. As you were distracted, Jun began to unbutton his jeans, pulling it down. You turned back to see him pulling his cock out.

"What are you doing? Put it back in." You whisper-yelled. "Don't show it to me-"

He chuckled, letting go of your wrist to cup your hand. He wrapped your hand around his throbbing shaft. You gasped at the feeling. His size was impressive just like everything else about him.

"Shit..." You mumbled, watching him stroke himself with your hand.

"All you protests just died down. What, are you enjoying it?"

"Augh, I won't bother denying it." You began stroking him out of your own will, feeling the precum rolling down to your fingers. "You're gonna make a mess..."

"Why don't you clean it up for me, darling?"

"Fuck no. We shouldn't do something like this so early. It can ruin the relationship."

"So there is a relationship." He mused, his hands trailing up and down your thigh. You groaned again, stopping your movement.

"I changed my mind."

Jun hummed in amusment, he brought his face to your neck, licking at the spots he bit. "You're mine. You can't change that fact. It's taking everything in me to just not take you right here..."

He brought himself to your clothed sex, rubbing himself harshly against you. "I'll eventually have you. You can't escape from me. So unless you want to become my prisoner any time soon, you better help me calm down."

"I said no! You can't make me."

He groaned in frustration. In a quick motion, he pulled down your pants, roughly shoving everything down. You helplessly stood there, your attempts to push him away failing. You weren't trying that hard any way. Maybe because you were excited.

"Oh, I'm not putting it in."

You looked up at Jun, confused. "Huh?" Your question was answered when he began to rub his length along your slit. You bit your lip. "Seriously? Just this?"

"Yes. Seriously." Jun grunted when you squeezed your thighs around his shaft. He moved against you, picking up the speed. Your legs felt like jelly. "This is all you get for denying your boyfriend."

You whimpered, feeling your clit being stimulated. It was enough to make you come a second time when you felt him squeeze your throat. "Yeah, there you go. You're so much easier to please than I thought you'd be." He laughed, grinding a couple more times before releasing his load. You both panted, and he rubbed the spots on your neck gently.

"Mmh, let's clean up first, darling. And then we'll have some lunch." He patted your head, mumbling praises as he kissed your lips. "You're mine now. There's no room for arguments. Better behave if you don't wanna be tied up and locked away."

◇◇♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡◇◇

Not as good as I was hoping. I was hesitant to go full sadistic so... I think I'll stick to sub yanderes. Oh, I have an idea for Ethan's POV...

[pomefioredove]

I think jts a bit of a wholesome thought to have abt a savanaclaw student going to harass yuu only for another savanaclaw who was raised in sunset to step in like ?!?!?! TF?? and it'd be a whole brawl. Savanaclaw dorm meeting and the sunset savanah natives take protecting yuu so seriously and even without leonas threats warnings they'd take it upon themselves to watch out for yuu whenever they can. Whixh leads to

Competition over pomefiore and savanaclaw about protecting yuu. The only time they get along is if they see Yuu is in danger and suddenly the teamwork is unparalleled. Crowley is patting himself on the back for his genius

Vil and Leona are breaking into his office to kick his ass.

LMAOOOO

yes omg. some fiend insulting yuu behind her back and every one of his sunset savanna friends slowly turn to him like... >_>

I don't think the pomefiore students would care personally, but when vil starts paying a suspicious amount of attention to yuu they just follow his example

...except for epel, who I think would defend yuu regardless. he wants to show off, and saving a damsel in distress is very masculine, no?

anyway. I think this would be the only thing leona and vil would agree on

[blueberri-blu]

Hi hi! Can I request Rise Donnie seeing his s/o wearing a "I <3 nerds" shirt?

Hiii!! Of course! I love it when y'all send requests! At first, I was thinking of making headcanons... But then my mind came up with a much funnier idea, so I present to you this Oneshot (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

I <3 Nerds ✯

[Rise]Donnie x gn!reader

Slightly Suggestive

It had been sitting in the back of your closet, waiting for a good use for it. You were always teasing him, whether it was moving some of his things only a couple centimeters, or sitting in his lap while he's working.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

April gifted you the shirt as a gag gift, a white shirt with black writing that said "I <3 Nerds"

So, you wore the t shirt and some comfy pants and went down to the lair.

You randomly remembered the shirt while getting dressed and thought, why not?, you didn't think you'd actually get a reaction from him.

You said hi to Mikey and Leo who were in the living room, and waved to Raph who was training, and made a beeline to the lab

When you opened the door and walked in, you noticed Donnie was standing and working on his jetpack. You walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder

He turned to you, giving you his full attention, "Oh, hello dearest, I don't remember you notifying me of your visit?" "Sorry Don, it's just my schedule cleared up, so I thought I'd come see you!" Your happy grin made him relax a bit. "Well in that case, allow me to finish up here, and I will accompany you to the kitchen for some pizza" "aaaaaalrighty don" he quirked an eyebrow at you elongated word, a clear sign you were up to something

While he was working, he kept shooting you suspicious glances, almost as if to tell you to feed up what it was you were up to

But you stayed quiet, albeit, grinning like the Cheshire cat, but quiet. Once he finished, Donnie walked over to you, and gave you a hug, allowing his head to fall onto your shoulder.

"Doooooniiiieeeee" oh no he thought, what did you do... "Yes, my love" "Did you see my shirt?" He looked at you curiously, then looking down, reading it, taking a second to process it, and saying "Oh, well now, so you love Nerds, hm?" "It's what the shirt says" "hmph well, it's totally inaccurate"

You had seen Donnie jealous a couple times, he'd normally end up with his hand on your waist, and him telling you about all the amazing things hes done, but this was a feeling you couldn't quite place

Donnie grabbed your waist, hoisted you up into his desk, standing between your legs. He reached over you, your face all too close to his plastron, grabbing a black permanent marker. He proceeded to scratch out the "Nerds" part of your shirt while saying "I am not a nerd, I am a genius, there is quite the difference dear"

After scratching out "nerd" he wrote "My Genius, Donnie" on it , only in purple marker instead. And since he already had you here, he might as well take advantage.

You were blushing, definitely not thinking he'd react this way. Donnie closed the distance between you two. He kissed you until your lips were red and puffy, then started to trail kisses down your neck. Once he reached the base of your neck, he stopped, and he whispered "Do you want to be mine?" you were putty in his hands, too lost in how much affection he was giving you, you just nodded. He proceeded to leave little bite marks on your shoulder, and then licking and kissing them better.

Once your shoulder was covered in Donnie's bites, he pulled away, satisfied with his work. "I suggest we hurry if you still want pizza, surely Leo will have no issue finishing a box by himself, so let's go My Love" you were still a bit hazed from his onslaught, but followed anyway.

You will be getting more of these shirts for him to "correct"

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I loved this idea! Maybe I went a little overboard, but... I regret nothing. I really hope you enjoyed it! I love y'all <3

[10byten]

Soft Spot for u

- When you started college, one of the student associations assigned you a senior mentor. Back then, you never thought you'd still be friends with him as you enter your final year, while he’s already long graduated. Even less that he’d be the guy of your dreams—the one who makes your heart race. -

Words : 2.6K

You’ve never been much of a party girl. Well, not in the “nightlife scene” kind of way. But a night owl ? That’s totally you. Staying up late doing all the things the daytime doesn’t allow ? That’s your jam. Especially when you’re spending those nights with him.

Since your freshman year, Yuta has been your go-to for late-night hangs: studying, laughing, bickering, drinking, and dancing. You quickly adapted to his vibe - even though, unlike you, he thrives in the nightlife. He loves hopping from on-campus parties to the city’s best clubs. For Yuta, you’d adjust to anything. Normally, you’re not big on people or physical contact, but with him, it’s different.

The first time he asked you to join him at a party, you tagged along, thinking, Why not? At least I’ll have a story to tell. You didn’t like dancing in public—the stares, the unwanted touches—but his touch? That was different. Before long, you were showing up to every party he invited you to, becoming a campus party regular.

Little did they know, you hated parties. You only went for him. For those moments on the dancefloor when his hands rested protectively on your hips, silently warning other guys to back off. It drove you crazy that it felt more big brotherly than anything else. But when you danced together, something shifted. He wasn’t being protective—just… present.

You’ve always wanted to make a move, but the fear of losing him held you back. If he hadn’t made the first move, it probably meant your feelings weren’t mutual. Right? But honestly, just being by his side was better than being with anyone else.

Yuta changed you—not just in how you see relationships, but in how you see life. He was more than a mentor for academics; he pulled you out of your comfort zone and into a brighter, more open world.

Waiting for him to pick you up tonight, you’re lost in thought, touching up your makeup as Keshi’s Soft Spot plays in the background. Your phone buzzes.

Yuta: Be there in 2 mins, love.

You grin, his name lighting up your screen. Gosh, this man owns my heart.

When you hop on his bike, he whistles, eyes raking over your silver sequin dress.

“You planning to set the campus on fire tonight? I don’t remember telling you to outshine me, little miss.”

“No one’s hotter than you, Yuta.” You flirt back, the way you always do when he compliments you. It gives you butterflies every time.

He smirks, giving you a playful smack on the thigh. “Flattery’ll get you far, baby. Keep it up.”

At the party, Yuta, as usual, commands attention. Walking in with him feels like entering as a rockstar’s date—his magnetic aura turning every head. You join his friends—Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung—who’ve already lined up shots.

Johnny hands you a suspiciously colorful concoction. You sniff it. “Johnny, is this safe? Because I really don’t want to start the semester in the ER.”

Everyone laughs, and Taeyong teases, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in school. Those were the days…”

Shots clink, faces grimace, and the party kicks off. But soon, the buzz, the chaos, and the alcohol start working their magic on your senses. All you want is to dance—with him.

The noise, the games, the music, the chaos of people chatting and singing along, all the stuff happening around you, mixed with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, has your senses on high alert. And now, you only want one thing—to dance with him. You’ve shared him with the crowd long enough, and now it’s your turn. Just you and him, in your world, even if it’s just for a bit.

You leave Jungwoo and Kai behind, still going at that ridiculous card game where every rule somehow ends in "take a sip." It’s funny as hell, you can admit that, but nah—right now, you need him. It’s all you can think about.

You find him at the bar, mid-conversation. You head toward him, sitting by the counter, your mind racing with one single thought: you wanna throw your arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. His legs are spread like he’s waiting just for you, a couple of messy strands of hair falling into his eyes, and his half-unbuttoned shirt teasing you with a glimpse of that stunning belly piercing and a peek at his tattoo.

You stop in front of him, hesitating for a second. He’s still chatting with Taeyong but doesn’t miss a beat, sliding an arm around your waist like, yeah, I know you’re here. That little gesture? making you go crazy, and without a second thought, grab his wrist and pull him to the dancefloor. Pressed against him, your bodies move in sync, his hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. Butterflies? More like fireworks. 

He’s totally getting with your vibe, moving with you like he’s reading your mind. When you turn around, you catch that huge smile lighting up his face—and wow, it’s the kind of smile that hits you right in the gut. He’s loving this moment, and it’s setting off a full-on butterfly storm in your stomach.

You kinda wish his smile wasn’t this attractive, this unfairly cute, this stupidly sexy. Because all you can think about is kissing him senseless. Like, right now.

You keep getting closer, grinding up against him more, and for some reason tonight, you’re feeling extra bold. You slide your fingers into his, guiding his hand to trace your curves in a way that’s definitely more suggestive than usual. Yuta doesn’t just go along with it—he’s into it. His response is all green lights, like his body is totally in tune with yours, wanting this as much as you do.

You feel his breath on your neck as you press your back against his chest, and yeah, it’s short. Is he... out of breath because of you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and without even thinking, you push your hips back against him, swaying like it’s second nature.

And then you feel it—him. Hard. For you.

That’s the last green light you need. You turn, locking eyes, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him, pouring years of longing into it. He kisses back—hungry, desperate.

Next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit laundry room, pinned against the door as his lips crash back onto yours. His hands are everywhere, his voice dripping with desire.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s pure, raw desire. Like, where the hell has he been hiding all this? Not that it matters—you’re practically melting in his hands. Your skin’s on fire, and it feels like your blood is boiling. He’s gonna make you explode, like you’re some freaking nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.

The only way you can even begin to handle this insane craving is by biting his bottom lip, cutting the kiss short. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s this spark in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know you had this bad girl side,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always been my sweet, innocent Y/n.”

“Not that innocent I guess, if only you knew about my dirty secret.” 

“Hmm tell me more baby” you smile hearing the petname he gave you, you love it soo much. 

“I touch myself so many times, soaking my panties, just thinking ‘bout you” 

He groan “You didn’t.” 

“I can’t even count how many times since I know you, you’re my favorite fantasm.” You say a lil bit shyly. 

He looks into your eyes, a proud smile on his face. “Then allow me to make the fantasy come true.”  He takes hold of your dress, so small that it doesn't take much effort for him to expose your already soaked thong. He slides two fingers over your pussy to caress you through the fabric.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” he growls, fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear.

“Only for you, daddy,” you whisper, testing the nickname that’s been on your mind for way too long.

He freezes, then smirks. “Gosh, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

You've never been so willing in your life. You only dream of one thing: his tongue on you and IN you. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder to get better access. You feel his breath on your inner thigh and you moan at the sensation alone. 

“Oh god.” He look at you, from the bottom and smirk “You can call me Yuta.” And with those words he wraps your whole soaking pussy in his mouth. First he eats you through the fabric of your thong. Then, using his fingers, he shifts it to the side. He flicks his tongue up and down your folds and then concentrates on your clitoris, sucking gently. The stimulation sends you into heaven, you feel as if you've left this earth. And then he starts playing at your entrance with one of his fingers, looking at you “Want me to get inside baby girl?”

“Yes, please, yes !”

 “Your wish is my command.”

He takes hold of your clit again, nibbling lightly, then gently and deliciously slides a finger into your pussy, soon adding a second, which you welcome as a blessing. You try to be as quiet as possible, but your little cries and sobs excite Yuta even more. He picks up the pace and eats you up like he's starving, tasting you like you’re his last meal, you’re trembling. Soon you feel your orgasm coming on and you press down on Yuta's shoulder as if to let him know you're about to burst. He smiles, "Let it go baby, I'm here for you.” You feel the most powerful orgasm you've ever had in your life rushing through you. And this time you can't help yourself, you moan his name out loud and pray that no one else walks by at the same time. He stands up and sucks on each of his two fingers in front of you. Then he slides his tongue back into your mouth. 

“I think you can still feel yourself on my tongue, so much that I've sucked you in.” You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting more, but Yuta slows the pace. “Maybe we should slip away before we're noticed.

You slip out quietly, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. On the way back, you’re still all sensitive from the way he completely wrecked you earlier. When Yuta pulls up in front of your dorm, he looks a little more hesitant than before. Still, you invite him to come up with you for a bit.

As you close the door to your apartment, you see him sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face like he’s deep in thought. But you don’t stop to overthink it—he’s already given you too much tonight for you to back down now. You climb onto his lap and kiss him, slow and intense. He kisses you back but suddenly pulls away.

“Wait,” he says, looking at you seriously. “I need to understand what’s happening here. Like, what are we doing right now?”

You stare at him, confused. “Do you want a diagram or something?”

“No, I mean, seriously. Isn’t this, like, a bad idea? I’m older than you, and you’re totally wasted. I am too, actually.”

“So what?”

“So yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You mean a lot to me and—”

You cut him off with a dramatic wave, making it clear he needs to stop talking immediately. “This is unreal. Stop seeing me as the clueless first-year kid who doesn’t know anything and needs a protector. Yuta, I don’t want a protector—I want you.”

He just stares at you, speechless.

“I got a soft spot for you, from the very beginning,” you continue, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “And honestly, I’ve been hoping every single day since we met that one day you’d wake up and feel the same. But you’ve always had this big brother vibe, and God, it’s been killing me, because I love your attention, I love how affectionate you are, and how you’re always there for me. But Yuta, I want so much more than that. I never said anything because I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin what we have. But seriously, I’ve been into you since day one. So please, stop being my bro—be my lover. Tonight, I felt like it was now or never. There was this moment, this chance, and hell, it’s my last year. I want to leave this university finally dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since freshman year. So if you’re not into it, just say it, but please stop looking at me like I’m some little kid and start seeing the woman I could be by your side.”

Yuta’s lips crash onto yours, giving you the single greatest kiss of your life.

“So you’ve been this into me for all this time, and you never said a word?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuta, please. I’m not exactly the most social person, but I’ve spent practically all my time with you. I hate parties, yet I’ve been at them every week since I met you. I HATE octopus, but I learned how to make Takoyaki like a pro. I think Naruto is the most boring anime ever, but I binged every damn season. Why do you think I did all that? For who?” you shoot back, exasperated.

“Uh… sorry?” he mutters sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize. Honestly, I love most of those things now because they remind me of you, or they’re just so you. I don’t force myself. If it means spending time with you, it’s always worth it in the end.”

He smiles at you, soft and affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years too,” he says quietly. “But the age gap always felt like too much. And I had this mentor role, you know? I didn’t want to look like some creepy older guy. More than that, I didn’t want to lose you or ruin what we have.”

Your heart pounds at his words. So he doesn’t see you as some desperate little kid, and, more importantly, the guy of your dreams feels the same way about you.

“Can you say it out loud, though? Just once?” you tease him.

“I got a soft spot for you, Y/n.”

“No, no, no, you can do better than that.”

He chuckles, running his tongue along his cheek, clearly amused but knowing you’re not letting this go.

“I got a big crush on you.”

Your smile stretches ear to ear, and you crash your lips against his again. He responds instantly, sliding his tongue against yours, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you closer. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to your room, laying you gently on the bed.He trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “If you play your cards right tonight, sweetheart, you just might get me to admit I maybe am in love with you by the end of it.”

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 17

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

Poultryman leaves quickly but you can't help but keep feeling suspicious. Nothing concrete and his explanation does make sense but you can't help but feel that It was weird for him to just be there like that...

He said he heard of it but ... How did he do so quickly? And why was he just standing there...menacingly?

You don't get the time to think about it further and quickly forget about it as Cub messages you, the hero association wants to talk to you for some reason and that means something is wrong...

...You are a bit worried.

...

You uh... don't really know what to do, your fight and flight is going off in a way only a council of business people can make it go off.

The council is staring at you, you thought they wanted to tell you something not look at you with... judgement in their eyes for like ten minutes straight.

You try to break the tension by initiating the conversation yourself.

"H-hello?"

...

"You wanted to speak with me?"

They are still silent? Did you say something wrong? You literally just said hi-

"Indeed, a decision has been talen that we believe you should be informed of."

Ok, not silent anymore, that's good... Wait decision? They aren't demoting you or something, right?

"Did something happen?"

They look to eachother...ok...even more worrying. It's fine everything is fine, you are totally calm and chill and not anxious at all.

"No, but something will."

"O-ok?"

Points for being ominous for no reason.

"Hotguy, you cannot continue to work alone. The stakes are growing, it is becoming too dangerous.."

"Oh!"

Oh! Are they making a hero team? You always wanted one of those-

"We are not going to waste heroes on a team"

And just like that your hopes are dashed and crushed. Why are you still here...just to suffer?

"But then-"

"Hotguy, how would you feel about a sidekick?"

A... Sidekick? You don't know how to feel, superheroes are supposed to have them though so It must be a good idea!...Wait.

"W-who's going to be my sidekick? You said you weren't going to waste heroes."

"That has not yet bern decided, we plan to start an hiring process of sorts soon.""

Hiring? What's this? An office job?"

"Do not question us, Hotguy. It is thanks to us you are even here to begin with"

"Right! I am sorry."

"... This is where you come in"

"Huh?"

"A sidekick should not only be capable but should also work well with the hero, you'll have to be the final judge of character "

"Oh that makes sense... So I'll interview the candidates?"

"Not directly, we cannot risk that, you'll just have to prepare some questions for them to answer"

"Oh... Alright! I'll do it"

*Mumbo's pov*

You are in your apartment, Grian is off... somewhere. You have stopped questioning him around the time you walked on him peeling grapes ... You just hope he doesn't randomly die or something, that would be quite unfortunate.

You turn on the tv, not something you do often but it's a good way to pass the time when you aren't working on something which is thinking about it...very rarely. Surely today has been uneventful.

The mayor was kidnapping by his own office and Hotguy is randomly hiring a sidekick.

What in the world has happened today??

*Grian's pov*

So Hotguy is searching for a sidekick, what interesting timing.

Well, you cannot waste this opportunity to have fun, can you.

You prepare an outfit, you even have a perfect name for this.

Cuteguy.

...

You might have too many personas now... nah.

End of Chapter 4

[cheshiresense]

I’m loving all the parts of your Ichigo & Starrk time travel AU! This is a bit random and would take place some time down the road but I had a thought that Starrk probably still has the scars from when Shunsui almost killed him rigjt? So I was wondering if some combination of TBTP!Shunsui recognizing the kind of blades that would’ve left those scars (his zanpakutou is pretty unique after all) and maybe Katen Kyokotsu sensing her own “mark” on Starrk would result in Shunsui guessing a few things if he sees those scars. Or maybe it’s at a point in the timeline where Starrk and Ichigo have already revealed the time travel thing to a few people but not many details and Shunsui ends up putting more pieces together on his own.

Ooh yesss I do love a good scar reveal. For a scene like this, I'd prob go with the second scenario. I imagine Starrk's a pretty private person and also not one to be stripping down in front of just anyone lmao so there has to be a good enough reason. (I actually have a different ready-made one that would fit a time travel reveal scene that I've already hinted at previously but I think I'll write that another time, so we're going to use this one instead.)

This would take place maybe a year or two down the road, and because Shinigami elites are generally not idiots (most of the time), especially the ones Starrk and Ichigo have grown close to, I imagine Shunsui, Ukitake, Shinji, and Kaien (and prob Lisa) have pooled their observations and guessed that Starrk and Ichigo are from the future and have Experienced Some Shit, possibly under Aizen, possibly under some other major big bad that was bad enough to necessitate time travel. And time travel's hardly something just anybody can throw around so most likely there's some divine intervention involved. And once they've come to these conclusions, they decide enough is enough, leaving the fate of Soul Society and possibly the universe on two people who look like they're running themselves ragged trying to save them all is ridiculous. If nothing else, they're friends and family, and it's not right to just leave that burden to them.

I'm also going to throw Kisuke into this group because 1) Kisuke's observant as fuck and Ichigo's actually really bad at staying away from this one mad scientist who created him and weaponized him and pointed him at the enemy but also followed right after him because to Kisuke, Ichigo is everything from moral compass to magnum opus to greatest sin to the person he owes everything to, and he'd more or less handed over his entire soul into Ichigo's possession very early on. So even a hundred years in the past was never going to prevent Kisuke from gravitating to Ichigo who doesn't flinch from him or his reputation and looks at him like he's more than just a Rukon street rat turned assassin turned Shinigami in a captain trenchcoat who has no idea how to be a captain on a good day. (And everybody knows that once Ichigo is attached to you, it's all over, you're never going to be rid of him again, and more than anything, Kisuke has always just wanted someone to want him to stay.)

And 2), there's no better place for secret meetings than the Study Chamber under the Soukyoku Hill, Aizen doesn't know about it, and the Quincy might but with the place buried under enough seals to avoid all detection and probably withstand a siege, even they can't get in to spy. I want to say Kisuke and Yoruichi are a package deal so she should be around, but I also headcanon that they sort of drifted apart for a while after Yoruichi forced Kisuke out of the Second and onto the captaincy doorstep (which made the fact that she threw her whole life and career away when Kisuke was accused of treason that much more meaningful tbh). So for now she's not around, but she does still hang out with Kuukaku, and while it is very helpful that all these people are regular guests at the Shiba compound so nobody is going to get suspicious if this particular group is absent together from time to time because people would just assume they're holed up at the Shibas' for another party or something, Yoruichi is going to notice sooner or later that they're very much not at the compound when they're missing, so she goes looking for whatever fuckery Kisuke has gotten up to this time, and that'll be her way into this time travel adventure, so to speak.

But all of this is actually just to say, healing hot springs for the win, you gotta be naked in a Japanese onsen lmao and guess who's about to have a midnight rendezvous :wink: let's all thank Urahara Kisuke for reinventing such a convenient trope.

-0-

It's nearing two in the morning, and after the staggering revelations earlier, everyone is asleep.

It wasn't as if they hadn't already expected the time travel, but to have it confirmed, and to know now that the reason for it had been the near-total annihilation of all three realms at the hands of a race nursing a thousand-year-old grudge, one thought to be largely extinct but has actually been hiding in their walls - almost literally - and biding their time until their king's awakening--well, let's just Shunsui isn't going to be able to walk down a street without wondering how many hidden eyes are watching him from the shadows until the Wandenreich has at least been dug out of the woodwork for all to see.

(It's also perhaps a little more… off-putting for him than the others, though perhaps that's his pride speaking. Shadows are supposed to be his domain, and yet he's never sensed anything amiss in all the long years he's lived in the Seireitei.)

There had at least not been too much of a fuss about bringing them into the loop. Shunsui had admittedly thought they would have to at least argue back and forth about it a few more times, if only because no matter how much Ichigo likes to deny it, the family resemblance is uncanny, whether in appearance or personality, and a Shiba is nothing if not stubborn once they've set their mind on something. Ichigo is exactly the type to refuse outside aid in the name of better protecting the people he cares about, has yet to understand that ignorance does not always mean safe, or outgrow that inexplicably instinctual mindset of his where he seems to believe that he must take on all burdens by himself instead of allowing others to help shoulder those burdens with him.

But then they'd confronted the boy, and while Ichigo had scowled up a storm and tried to bluster his way out of it at first - kid really is a terrible liar - he'd also capitulated far sooner than any of them had expected. In the end, he'd crossed his arms and scowled some more before deciding with the finality of someone who wouldn't budge any further, "Fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

He'd smirked at them then, still displeased considering the topic of conversation, but vaguely triumphant nonetheless as he'd eyed Urahara and Hirako and Kaien in particular. "It's why you cornered me when you know Starrk-san's out on a mission and isn't due back 'til late, right? Cuz you think you might be able to wear me down by nagging me to death, or worse comes to worst, you can figure it out by watching my reactions. But you won't get anything out of Starrk-san if he doesn't want to say, and he's hard to read even when he's actively emoting."

He'd snorted then, mockery softened by a reluctant sort of mirth. "Joke's on you, he's the reasonable one."

Which, to be fair, had been Shunsui's opinion. Starrk really is frustratingly, delightfully difficult to read, and this is coming from Shunsui, who's always found most people easy enough to figure out at a glance. Case in point, most of the things they'd pieced together for themselves had been clues Ichigo had inadvertently given away, not Starrk. And even then, if Starrk doesn't want them to know, no matter how many well-reasoned conjectures they lay at his feet, he probably wouldn't say a word.

But by that same token, it must mean that the hints he'd started dropping over the past few months could only be his way of encouraging them to ask without directly giving the game away, without giving them any hard evidence or firsthand testimony that would condemn himself or Ichigo, just in case the people they've chosen to trust fail their expectations and choose to hand them over to the government instead of trusting them in return.

To Shunsui, that had basically been an open invitation to sit down for a chat, and Ukitake had agreed with him, but they'd been outvoted - sometimes, he thinks with some amusement that the younger members of their little group don't seem to have eyes for anyone except Ichigo - so he'd let it go since he'd thought there wouldn't be any major issues with trying it this way first either. After all, he doubts Starrk would've shown his hand without Ichigo's agreement. It's just that they'd probably have to jump through a few more hoops if they went to Ichigo, what with the kid's knee-jerk reflex for keeping them at a distance no matter the cost to himself. And he'd been correct, more or less. It's just that they'd had fewer hoops to jump through than Shunsui had anticipated, but he's hardly about to complain.

"My plan was to force Aizen to out himself somehow and then take him down in front of everyone," Ichigo had continued, oblivious to the dawning look of horror on his cousin's face at the sheer lack of regard Ichigo clearly had for his own wellbeing, or possibly for the excessive margin of error implied in every sentence. "And then, you know, hopefully do the same for the Quincy, although I guess they'd be harder to draw out, so maybe we would've had to go to them? But anyway, Starrk-san's the one who's been saying practically from the beginning that we need more people."

He'd made a face then, reminiscent of children everywhere who'd been lectured by a parent for doing something potentially reckless and stupid, but there'd been a grumpy sort of acceptance there too that had lent maturity to his features.

"'Wars can't be won alone,'" Ichigo had audibly quoted with a rueful sort of twist to his mouth, as much to himself as to them. "'And this is their home. If they want to fight for it, let them fight. They're strong enough to make a difference. Besides, there's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you.'" He'd huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face, and then he'd just looked tired. "Well, he's not wrong."

He'd looked at them all again, gaze firm. "So if you really wanna do this, fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

They'd waited. It wasn't as if anyone had actually wanted to exclude the man anyway, couldn't even if they did since he and Ichigo were clearly a package deal. And Shunsui's of the opinion that anybody who can consistently convince Ichigo to stop and look around and realize he isn't as alone as he often seems to believe is someone Shunsui definitely wants onside.

Ichigo had told them that Starrk had been expecting a confrontation sooner or later, and there were only so many places for it to happen if they didn't want anyone else finding out, so if Starrk got back and found their shared apartment empty, he would know to check here.

Sure enough, an hour after, a reiatsu signature - usually so carefully tucked away but one that Shunsui had pressed into his own memory from the very first time he'd had the chance to really feel it - had flared politely right outside the door before wisping away to nothing again, and a moment after Urahara had flashed away to let him in, Starrk had ghosted in, still in his Shihakushou with the wooden case containing his Zanpakutou slung over one shoulder and an exhausted air about him, but the silver-blue gaze he'd swept over them had momentarily felt like the fangs of a beast locked around their throats.

He'd looked to Ichigo, who'd grimaced but nodded, some wordless conversation passing between them, and only then had all those predatory edges been folded away again, leaving only the quiet unassuming man people still barely looked twice at despite the fact that he'd graduated with honours just as impressive as Ichigo's had been, and had even been promoted to lieutenant on Unohana's personal recommendation straight out of the Academy. But most Shinigami saw Fourth Division and looked no further, blind to the power concealed behind Starrk's reserved apathy.

(In contrast, restlessness stirred beneath Shunsui's skin at the sight. He'd wanted to feel that reiatsu again, to taste the corrosive bite of it against the endless abyss of his own, to revel in the reminder that neither of them could overwhelm the other. He'd wanted to see more of the wolf lurking behind Starrk's eyes too, wanted this man to know he had no need to hide any part of it, not from Shunsui, not when he had the same kind of monster residing in his own soul. But that was all still too much, too soon, and so he'd locked it all behind his teeth once more, waiting for the day he wouldn't have to anymore.)

Starrk had sighed and run a gloved hand over his mouth before wandering over to join them. "Alright, let's talk. What do you want to know?"

That had been five hours ago. The conversation had lasted until midnight before they'd all decided to retire for the night and continue in the morning.

(Ichigo had looked positively agonized at the prospect. Starrk hadn't looked much of anything, mainly because he'd been half-asleep - or doing an excellent job at pretending to be - for a good hour and a half by that point.)

They'd opted to stay in the Study Chamber. Urahara had had more than enough futons to go around, thick enough that they wouldn't feel the ground underneath, and there were bathroom facilities and even a kitchenette included in a sectioned off corner. He and Yoruichi had certainly outdone themselves.

Urahara in particular. He'd invited them to use his hot spring too if they wished - a derivative of Kirinji Tenjirou's very own hot springs, less effective and fast-acting than the originals, only able to speed up recovery, but also far less dangerous - perfect for soaking in after a tough spar or a hard day or anything that results in moderately serious injuries. A veritable work of art.

Still, Shunsui had been more preoccupied with the way Starrk's eyes had lingered on the hot spring even as they'd all headed off to eat something and wash up before going to bed. In that split-second moment, the normally inscrutable man had looked adorably like a cat with a patch of sunlight. It shouldn't have been so attractive, but Shunsui had found himself unspeakably charmed all the same.

Ten minutes after everyone else's reiryoku had levelled out with deep slumber, and Shunsui had likewise tamped down on his own and smoothed it out to mimic sleep, he'd heard the faint rustle of Starrk's futon being pulled back, and then the whisper of footsteps padding their way towards the hot spring.

A better man than Shunsui would probably not have followed. But if that had ever been an option, he'd thrown it out the window from the first time he'd almost drowned in the shattered devastation of Starrk's soul and still decided to go after him.

He'd known since they'd met that there was some kind of connection between himself and Starrk.

He'd known for nearly as long that something about himself made Starrk uncomfortable, at best, and hurt him on a soul-deep level at worst.

He'd known with every interaction they'd had after that - every moment Shunsui could spare to track him down without making it seem too obvious that he was doing it on purpose - that Starrk wanted him to stay away just as much as he wanted him to stay, and Shunsui had taken shameless advantage because he himself had also been unable to do anything less, because he'd looked at this man and the desolate void inside him and couldn't bear to leave him alone.

(Because every moment with Starrk had filled something in Shunsui's own heart that he hadn't even known had been missing until Starrk had slotted into his life so neatly, so easily, that it had felt like he was always meant to be there.)

And he'd known for months, ever since time travel had become the most likely explanation for Starrk and Ichigo's origins, that there was no way Starrk hadn't known him in another life, and known him well, because that was the only thing that explained it all with perfect, horrifying sense.

A better man than Shunsui would not have followed, would've given him space. But a better man wouldn't have reduced someone's heart to a grief-stricken ruin either, cut so deep that it had carved that anguish straight into their very soul, so Shunsui figures that since a future version of himself has already sunk about as low as he possibly can, he might as well keep going and see if there's anything at all that he can do to fix what another him - still him, in the end, with a mere hundred years and change between them - has so clearly, carelessly, cruelly broken.

One of the things that had been revealed earlier had been Ichigo's background, because they'd all noticed the flashes of Quincy and Hollow in his reiatsu. Kaien had broken three sake cups and almost Urahara's face, and even by the end, he'd still looked murderous enough that Shunsui had almost pitied Shiba Isshin's foreseeable future. But Ichigo's ancestry had led to Starrk's, whose reiatsu may be as inherently dangerous as Shunsui's but has never read as anything less than perfectly Shinigami. They'd all been curious for a while, because Starrk was the kind of old and powerful that very few people could get to, and none that could and still remain unknown for so long, but there'd also been no Coyote Starrk in the Gotei 13 until this version who'd time-travelled had arrived in the Seireitei.

Starrk hadn't beaten around the bush. He'd pulled open the front of his Shihakushou and bared the web of scars below his collarbones, slightly branched out but thick and concentrated over his sternum in a distinctly circular mass.

"I'm not a Shinigami," He'd said calmly, plainly.

"You kind of are," Ichigo had mused, even as he'd glowered death eyes at them all when Starrk wasn't looking.

Starrk had shaken his head. "There's no name for what I am. I just evolved enough to fix my own soul."

He'd placed a hand over the scarring, and his gaze became distant enough that Shunsui's hands had twitched with the urge to reach out, even while the others had gaped, visibly shocked because it's one thing to have a soul like Ichigo's, one ultimately man-made, cobbled together from hope and desperation and a scientist's gamble; it's another entirely to realize that Shinigami have perhaps been looking at Hollows the wrong way for as long as any of them have existed.

(Because all Hollows are ultimately the product of the Shinigami's failure to save them in time, though most don't view it that way anymore, if they ever have. Because the possibility of a Hollow saving themselves has never even been a thought exercise in anyone's mind.)

Shunsui hadn't cared. No, that wasn't entirely correct. He'd been just as stunned as the others at this revelation that overturned millennia's worth of ironclad beliefs. But he'd been far, far more perturbed by what he could see of a second scar on Starrk's chest that bisected the circular one, faded just enough to indicate that it wasn't a very recent injury, but still deep and ragged and vivid enough to show how lethal it had been, how fatal, and-

And Shunsui had seen enough- dealt enough damage with his Zanpakutou to know the kind of wounds his blades left in their wake. And as if that wasn't enough, Katen had murmured in his mind, terrible and possessive and ruthlessly final, "Yes, his is a life we claimed for ourselves."

Shunsui had been almost relieved when Starrk had blinked back into the present and pulled his Shihakushou back on properly before continuing in a sedate tone, "We concluded that this is the final step for a Hollow, that they're allowed a chance to become whole again. It's just that even the strongest Hollows usually only survive for a few hundred years before something kills them, or they just don't have the power levels to climb that high, especially in the time they have."

He'd smiled then, but there'd been no humour in his expression, only infinite emptiness. "I survived, and I'm strong. So I guess this was my prize."

Nobody had really known what to say about all that, though Urahara had done an admirable job of recovering, and then an even more admirable job of pretending he didn't immediately want to whip out one piece of equipment or another and start scanning Starrk for data. They'd moved the conversation back to more information on the Quincy instead, although there would definitely be more questions in the future. But it'd been a lot to take in, and everybody had needed time to digest.

Now, hours later, Shunsui waits a bit before getting up as well and quietly making his way to the hot spring. He isn't surprised when he finds Starrk already rising from the water and reaching for a towel, evidently prepared to leave.

"Don't go," Shunsui says before he can think better of it, and he doesn't mean it as a demand or order, but he doesn't take it back either when Starrk goes still, water sluicing off of him - all tanned wet skin and strong shoulders and lean muscle for miles and now is really not the time - half turned away, and it's only because of that that even with the steam, Shunsui notices the conspicuous scar left by a stab wound in Starrk's back, just left of the spine.

This time, he doesn't need Katen to say anything at all.

Perhaps he'd dropped his conscience in a ditch on his way here, because he repeats, can't stop himself from repeating, "Don't go. I don't mean to chase you away. It's more than big enough for the both of us, isn't it?"

He pauses, reaches for a hat he'd left behind on his futon, and settles for shrugging out of his clothes instead. "…I'll stay on this side."

He slides into the water and forces himself to wait. When Starrk slowly sinks back into the hot spring, Shunsui very carefully doesn't react to that either.

The silence that settles over them is less tense than one might expect. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Starrk slumps against the edge of the hot spring, eyelids drooping. He has his hair tied back in a bun to keep it out of the water, and it's rare enough that Shunsui can't help taking a few extra looks.

Then again, that's nothing new. Starrk has always drawn his eye. Ukitake likes laughing at him for it.

"Does it bother you?" Starrk speaks up abruptly, unexpected enough that Shunsui almost startles. "That I'm a Hollow."

Shunsui wants to say that this man is so far from everything he'd ever thought even the most advanced Hollows could be that a part of him simply can't reconcile the disconnect. The rest of him…

"You're the same person now as you were before you told us what you are," He points out. "I don't think anything else matters."

Blue-grey eyes slit open, not quite looking in Shunsui's direction, not quite not, expression utterly indecipherable.

"…Did my future self think differently?" Shunsui ventures, but that can't be right. He can't imagine any version of himself who would think that way, especially one who'd lived even longer than he has. Still, his mind flashes back to the scars on Starrk's body, hidden beneath the water now but seared into Shunsui's memory like a brand, and he can't help coming up with increasingly depressing scenarios.

But Starrk blinks, and his focus finally hones in on Shunsui, genuinely surprised, and Shunsui releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"No," Starrk says after a beat of studying him with that too-perceptive gaze. "You've apparently always been more open-minded than most." He cocks his head. "But you were staring, so I thought…"

I always stare at you, haven't you noticed? Shunsui wants to blurt out, but he swallows it down with only a little effort. Too much, too soon.

After tonight's revelations, after all the speculations he's pieced together bit by bit over the past few months about their past-future relationship, maybe it will always be too soon. But Shunsui's never been in the habit of admitting defeat without even trying, and this time is no different.

"Something is bothering you though," Starrk tacks on, still watching Shunsui through narrowed eyes, and Shunsui wonders if the man realizes how much he looks like he's stalking prey in moments like this.

It should be unsettling, being on the receiving end of such a gaze, and it is, a little, but Shunsui's grown used to it too, grown to appreciate it even, to the feeling of being seen, of being known, and still being wanted.

(Because that's the one thing that's never been in question. Because however much Starrk sometimes reacts like Shunsui's very existence pains him, or how much he sometimes makes Shunsui feel completely bare, every sin and secret laid out for judgement, he's also never looked at Shunsui with anything less than the sort of quiet devotion the tide holds for the moon, or the stars for the sky, or dawn for the horizon, steadfast and eternal. Is it any wonder Shunsui can't stay away?)

"Is it this then?" Starrk asks next, and the water sloshes a little as he straightens up, revealing his scarred chest to tap a finger against the near-horizontal scar cleaved across it, right through where his Hollow hole had presumably still been at the time of the injury. Seeing it in its full gruesome glory now, Shunsui can tell that this wound had to have nearly cut the other man in two.

He feels a little at a loss for words, then sighs and fesses up. "Maa, I suppose I'm just a bit curious." He tries to keep his tone light, but there's really no two ways to say it. "…I did that, didn't I?"

Starrk levels an arch look at him. "Well, you didn't." He slouches back into the water, and somehow, he actually looks a bit amused. "I'm long over it, Taichou-san. We'd just met, and we were enemies at the time. You did what you had to do. We both did. It was war. If it makes you feel better, I gave as good as I got."

Shunsui snorts. That does actually make him feel a bit better. At the very least, this is preferable to the increasingly dramatic betrayal scenarios he'd been thinking of. He doesn't like the idea of his future self almost killing Starrk, but at least it hadn't happened after they'd become friends.

It does mean he has to reshuffle a few things on his mental timeline though, and across the hot spring, Starrk glances at him again and seems to understand.

"I guess we didn't get around to talking much about Aizen," He muses, then reveals, "We mentioned that before the Quincy became a problem, it was Aizen you all fought. Aizen set up his base of operations in Hueco Mundo, sought out Hollows from all over, and created an army of artificial Arrancar out of them to serve him, using that Hougyoku Ichigo was talking about earlier. I was part of that army."

Shunsui blinks at that revelation, and it's on the tip of his tongue to ask what Aizen - in his quest for world domination - could've possibly offered a man who didn't even like fighting to secure his allegiance. Then again, Shunsui's willing to bet at least a little hypnosis had been involved to ease the way. Aizen doesn't seem the type to bank on genuine fealty without including insurance.

The question stalls in his throat though as Starrk lifts a hand out of the water--his left, the one with the vivid burn scar stretched over the back of it. That isn't something often seen either. Starrk almost always has gloves on. He stares at it for a moment before letting it fall back beneath the water.

"The ten most powerful Arrancar in his army were called the Espada," Starrk explains. "I was the Primera. The first."

"The strongest," Shunsui nods. That sounds right, especially if Starrk had been sent to fight Shunsui.

Starrk shrugs noncommittally and says nothing else, leaving Shunsui to mull over the new information for a minute.

"Ichigo-kun warned us earlier," Shunsui eventually says. "About being Hollowfied by Aizen's Hougyoku. That turning into Visored stunted any chance of growth, and that you weren't even halfway through the Blood War before Lisa-chan and the others' power levels had degraded to barely that of a seated officer's."

Hirako had been grim-faced at the news. Lisa had looked ready to march out and rip Aizen's head off right then and there. Honestly, Shunsui had shared the sentiment.

"Then wouldn't it have been the same for Aizen's Arrancar?" Shunsui continues, watching a puzzled frown furrow at Starrk's brow. "They were granted power by the Hougyoku. Shouldn't it have stunted them too?"

Starrk nods, still frowning. "Yeah, it did. Grimmjow was furious when he found out." He blinks, and then realization strikes. "Oh, you mean me."

Shunsui hums a confirmation. Why in the world would he mean anyone else?

Starrk shakes his head. "I was the exception. Aizen found me last, out of most of the Arrancar. Definitely last out of the Espada. But even then, I was already more powerful than all the others, so he gave me the Primera seat." A corner of his mouth quirks with a cynical sort of mirth. "I didn't want more power, and he certainly wasn't about to give me more. I suppose it was fortunate. I don't think even Aizen knew back then that the Hougyoku would cause stagnation."

Powerful enough to have risen to Arrancar on his own, Shunsui muses, and he has to marvel at that, has to admire it. That kind of strength - mental even more than physical in some ways - isn't something just anyone can possess. Evidently. The only natural Arrancar in the known worlds. The only one to repair his own soul. What an extraordinary accomplishment. Except-

"I'm sorry it took so long," Shunsui says softly, because he knows Starrk is around the same age as himself, and if he was still an Arrancar by Aizen's war, then he could only have spent all the centuries before in Hueco Mundo. Even if he'd had companions there, Starrk would've outlived them all. "It must've been lonely."

I'm sorry nobody could help, because no Shinigami would've known to help. Perhaps most wouldn't have been willing to even if they'd known. I'm sorry I couldn't help.

For a long moment, Starrk is still enough to resemble a statue. Then a scoff of something that could've been laughter if it didn't ache so much claws its way out of his throat. He doesn't lift his gaze from where it's fallen blankly on the shifting surface of the hot spring. "No need to be sorry. I'm used to it."

Used to it. Used to being alone. Used to being left behind.

Shunsui doesn't thinks he's only talking about those long years in Hueco Mundo anymore, not when he's avoiding eye-contact again, not when Shunsui can suddenly feel the bleak despair radiating from his soul again.

"There's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you."

Not for the first time, Shunsui feels an acute desire to have a nice long talk with his future self and ask exactly how much of the agony rippling through Starrk's reiatsu can be placed directly at his feet.

(It isn't as if Shunsui can't understand. Even disregarding all other circumstances, the fact that they'd been at war would've meant that there could be no guarantees.

But still.

Still.

Couldn't he have tried a little harder? Didn't he know better than anyone the pain of being the only one left behind, the way it lingers like a slow unending bleed you're forced to carry until the day death finally deigns to take you too?

Shunsui at least has Ukitake, has Yama-jii, has Retsu-senpai and Sasakibe-san too, has Lisa-chan and Hirako and Kaien-kun, even has Nanao-chan to watch over in his brother and sister-in-law's stead. And in the future, maybe he'd lost them all, but it also sounds like he'd still had one to staunch the bleed, still had Starrk, right to the very end.

Then, who did Starrk have after Shunsui had died?

Isn't the answer obvious? Isn't Starrk still bleeding right now?)

A heavy sigh jolts Shunsui out of his thoughts, and his hands sting from where his nails have dug into his palms, fortunately out of sight. On the other side, Starrk clambers to his feet, water sloughing off his frame as he turns to get out of the hot spring.

The steam obscures his face this time, but even if he could see it, Shunsui thinks it would be one of those times again where he wouldn't be able to read him at all.

"Don't think so hard, Taichou-san," Starrk says, voice as calm as a blanket of snow over a cemetery. "It's not your job to save me."

I can't be saved anymore. I don’t want to be saved.

Shunsui's out of the water and next to Starrk before either of them can blink.

Too much, too soon, a part of him warns, but this time, he throws caution to the wind, reaches out, and closes a hand around Starrk’s wrist.

Starrk freezes, the pulse under Shunsui’s fingers jumps, and for a moment, time seems to stop.

They must look ridiculous, dripping wet and naked, and yet Shunsui barely notices, and Starrk has probably noticed everything but.

"It's not my job, that's true," Shunsui says without letting go, staring at what he could see of the other's face. "And I don't know if what I'm doing is meant to save you. But if you think I'll just let you go to your grave after all this is over, Ichigo-kun is apparently not the one we should've been worrying most about after all."

They had made a mistake, Shunsui realizes. He had made a mistake. Because looking at Starrk and Ichigo--at Starrk who was so steady and composed all the time, and then at Ichigo who was so much more transparent in his misery, in his fury, in his determination to achieve his end goals no matter the cost to himself, that it was almost instinct for everyone to focus their concerns on him. Because for all that Ichigo was reluctant to involve them, and reticent on the best of the days, he was at least also loud about it, and therefore was that much easier to help--to know they need to help.

Compared to him, Starrk has always shown himself to be the rock in a storm that even Ichigo clearly clings to. He has never been anything less than an ocean of serenity, but perhaps they should've remembered that no ocean is calm beneath the surface.

…No, it's Shunsui who should've remembered. He has literal unparalleled insight into Starrk's soul, feels the ache of it regularly, even if not all the time, except he'd just… not forgotten, that's impossible, but he'd been trying to fix it in his own way, with tea and conversation and countless attempts at coaxing out even just one more smile, except he can never tell when he might be going too far, pushing too fast, wanting too much, always feeling a bit like he's standing helpless in front of a skittish cornered animal too hurt to accept any kind of affection, and so perhaps as a result, Shunsui's ended up failing to show Starrk just how far he's willing to go instead.

Case in point, he's still holding onto Starrk, touching him, skin warm against Shunsui's own. Shunsui would've thought he'd be shaken off by now, possibly tossed into a wall out of reflex if nothing else, but Starrk hasn't even attempted to pull away. His pulse is calming again, but Shunsui can feel the tension in his arm, and he's staring down at their limbs with a lost expression.

Shunsui tightens his grip and runs his thumb along the inside of the other's wrist. He feels more than sees the shiver that runs through Starrk's body, for all that Starrk still hasn't moved. But the lost expression on his face also retreats. It leaves exhaustion-bruised eyes and enough sorrow thrumming through his reiatsu to smother the breath from Shunsui's lungs in its wake, but at the very least, he also finally looks up to meet Shunsui's gaze.

"…I don't know what you want from me, Shunsui," Starrk says wearily.

It's the first time he's ever used Shunsui's name. Shunsui only wishes he wouldn't sound so unbearably sad when saying it, but he'd take what he could get.

"That's easy," Shunsui replies, catching that pale mercurial gaze and holding it. "I want the same thing you've asked of Ichigo-kun. I want you to live."

A long silence follows before a rough sound spills from Starrk's throat like shattered glass.

"'Easy'," Starrk echoes, shoulders shaking, with laughter, with tears. But his eyes are dry, and he's the farthest thing from amused, and his soul feels like it might swallow itself whole just to cease its own existence. So this time, Shunsui lets instinct guide his hands and doesn't let himself second-guess it--in one swift motion, he tugs the other man into his arms and wraps him in a hug like he's wanted to ever since Starrk's soul had grasped for his own like he was drowning and Shunsui was the only one who could pull him to shore. Who could convince him to come ashore.

Starrk collapses against him, shuddering like he might fall apart with even just one more word, one more breath, one more touch, but Shunsui only draws him closer, holds him harder, and refuses to let him go.

[ivys-garden]

Life Series Recap: session 6.

Hey mcytblr. How are you keeping?

Well I've had Insomnia and accidentally ate half a loath of stale bread so let's distract ourselves from it all with some nice life series stuff, eh?

Todays wild card was… OK so like, this is probably the weirdest one (and also probably my least favourite but that's a me issue)

So like… every animal dies. Then new ones spawn. Then they become something random… wat

Now despite what the random signs that keep suspiciously appearing around grian say, thus isn't actually TOO dangerous. But hey that just leaves more room for these Theatre kids to drama it up in this messy soap opera of a series

So, without further dillydallying, let's look at these fools

The Final Gals (Scott, Cleo, Pearl, Impulse, Bigb, Etho)

Billy is dead. So is Grian, probably. they've got like 20 reasons to kill that lil scamp now.

Today is a full on trap day it seems! Scott is once again enabling so everyone gets their murder hats on. Impulse traps the base with pitfalls, obviously taking inspiration from Mumbo.

Bigb also gets his traps on, killing skizz in revenge and killing lizzie for no reason. Ps are we ignoring that Jimmy almost called him a son of a bitch orrrrrrrr

Oh yes, Bigb and Etho are now officially full members, and now the Bigb is a hostile mob, we can trust him again!

I mean, not too weird, they've got a Cleo. A very big brained and Dastardly Cleo. They plan to trap the wheat field with bombs. Heck they convinced Tango and martyn it already was! They also managed to acquire a cheeky Villager, so bows of death may be making a comeback.

Speaking of bigb actually, he's like even more trust worthy. It's almost scary. He refuses to betray Pearl and instantly tattles on Scar AND when lizzie coms a knocking over I.pukse trying to kill her and Impulse blames him, he fully accepts guilt no questions asked! What was in his water today, are we sure this is the same guy?

Scott does some miscellaneous chores. He fully turned the tower into a cake, which yada yada two nickels. He also goes never raiding with Cleo and makes his once per session trip to go complement Jimmy in a totally jot fruity way, Promise. Ignore how it's only his parrot Scott tried to save from that Blaze that means nothing.

Now, Pearl. She is given the task by gem

To kill gem. So she and her new murder bestie Impulse get on they're cammel and get down to mischief. Starting with creepers!

They failed miserably with creepers. Gem is a very fast rat

They go for a raid!

The wild card kills it. Dam.

They go for a spawn egg trap + a cammel nap!

The session ends before they can pull it off God dam it.

Pearl also thinks complimenting gem will get her to like her again so take that as you will. I say, knowing full well how you fuckers will take it. I see you, and so does G O D.

Oh, Pearl also acquires a very special tool that I'll mention in Etho's bit, but needless to say he gives it to Impulse and provided he does bimbo his key binds… again, he could come back from the dead…

The Family (Gem, Joel, Etho)

Joel found a bloody trial chamber. what the devils. He looted that bitch so good.

Anyway

All the cows are dead.

Also, a new watchtower? Pog? No. Its hideous. Much like gems barn, which has become a real ship of Theseus.

Speaking of Gem, she invents new and exciting ways to hate Pearl! This week: forgetting that gem ripped her eye out!

Yeah no fair how did she forget that.

Anyway, as gem is fully insane she decides the only way Pearl can make it up to her is to (checks notes) Murder her. Yep. Now, if my friend murdered me I'd probably take that negatively, but not Gem. She's itching to 1v1 pearl. Shame that Pearl is actually being cautious and thinks that trapping her is more sensible (tho maybe she should 1v1 gem since Pearl sucks at making traps. Just saying)

Speaking of traps, Gem and Etho try to kill ren! For no reason! He's their friend! It doesn't work but like, what the hell guys!?

Gem also chose to give her life to skizz…. More on how that went at 11.

The Bamboozelers (Scar, Jimmy, Lizzie)

Oh the Bamboozelers. Where do we start?

The Bam Bunker of course! Scars off hand pipe dream was fully realised this session as Jimmy and Lizzie spend all session building they're super secret bunker!... Scott manages to bimbo his way in and Scar invites Etho in… and it's not hidden at all… but hey, bunker!

And just in time too, turns out living on an open grassy mountain with plants that limit mobility during a mob spawn wild card is a bad idea. Lizzie almost died to wither had Jimmy not killed her so as to not waste her life.

I mean he did waste her life by trying to kidnap an Iron Golem but, eh.

Now looking at pay offs for last sessions events, we get anticlimax! Jimmy tries to kill gem when she offers her help in murdering people and Lizzie finds out that Ender porters fail if you died after you set them up. Whoops!

Speaking of Lizzie failing, she blows up Martyn and Ethos tower! He was supposed to get Tango as requested by skizz, but he's too smart. Lucky that martyn isn't eh?

No, when Scar wasn't being ironically killed by vex in trial chambers, or trying to make Shulker boxes for Actually no reason, or ruining traps for people, he was…. Being gaslit into thinking evokers still dropped Totems by grian. He did come up with a good idea of egg farming, but unfortunately eggs were turned off it seems, guess no big brain Scar this session.

Also for some reason Scar tries to get people to kill Pearl. Pearl has done nothing to him, but I guess that fits Pearl overall, do nothing and forgive everyone and still people want to kill you.

Oh also shears is dead. :(

Renwood (Martyn, Ren)

Oh ren. He's having a time. He's trying to be polite and friendly and make a “zoo lake” and asks why he and Martyn aren't smooching.

But at every turn this man has his life threatened by his own allies, his animals die (INCLUDING THAT BLOODY HORSE NOOOOOOO) and his homie/probably husband is killing people! What's that about?.... The shot was sick tho.

Hey, He may now have no allies or food but…. At least the lake protected them?

Idk they're probably doomed.

Martyn has some strange happenings this session. He goes skateboarding on a camel for one. He is also back to calling people humpers God damn it.

He also does make up for knocking Skizz off his stupid bad incredibly dangerous bridge by trying to lure people into the danger zone for him, but this ends about as well as every other trap done by anyone. At least he helped Grian get…revenge…

The Tuff Guys (Bdubs, Tango, Etho)

Firstly, Pancakes.

Secondly, etho doesn't know what Mt Saint Hellens is. You mean Yellowstone, Mr. Kakashi sir.

Anyway, on to things that are actually important, Bdubs finished his house!

Oh wait, I said things of importance.

Etho decides to make my life difficult by allying with 3 teams, all of which hate each other. So thanks for that, glad you died in that stupid trial chamber.

Etho ignores whatever stupid goals Leader Tango set out and instead focuses on the important thing of getting a Wolf army kitted out with armour and the less important thing of trying to get a shulker box to solve his inventory problem. That sir, is actually just a skill issue.

Now, Wardens. Where there be Wardens, there be a Tango to adopt them. Yep the Tuff Guys get a warden… for about three seconds until it gets trapped and everyone tridents it to death. This is also when “The Suprise Tool” was acquired by Pearl, a TOTEM OF UNDYING. Yeah Impulse is effectively on green now thanks to that, Thanks Gri! Impy FTW

(Ps homework for y'all is to find out who got that last hit on the Warden)

Now, I seem to remember Tango doing something to skizz… it resulted in grian taking revenge and bombing the hell out of the Tuff Towers and

Oh

Oh No, Skizzle…

The Spanner (Grian)

Let's start with grian. He is MOURNING Mumbo, even though he got bloody atomised last session he still pretends he's here. He names an Iron Golem after him, who later kills Jimmy so hooray revenge! Go Bloop!

He also goes chamber busting and continues to be besties with Scar… hey weren't they trying to kill each other not 2 sessions ago or….

He also fixes the “Spider Nest” tnt launcher so skizz doesn't blow himself up, skizz also names the tower after Mumbo in his honour.

Oh Grian also forgot to activate the wild card for like 5 minutes. Silly Goose. Hey at least it got people nice and paranoid.

Now, Skizz. He starts of great, Bombing Gem. I mean gem let him and he lost the life like 10 seconds later but he did it! He then does the stupidest thing I've seen since Skynet and builds a rickety bridge to drop TNT on tango's head. He was asking for martyn to wind charge him off.

Skizz seems to be really focused on Tango, he did ask Jimmy, Bigb & Lizzie to kill him after all.

But, well… Tango killed him. Did he thi k it would? No. But it did anyway. He tossed a wind charge up at Mumbo Tower and skizz fell. Grian didn't even have to watch to know what happened.

The Tuff Guys tried to make amends, but at that point it was too late. Also etho didn't help by talking to the wrong Grave like a Bimbo.

Grian then has a mental breakdown! And he does what people who have those in this series do and decides allying with Joel is a good idea somehow. He tries to replace the Spanners with the family. To pretend nothing happend.

It isn't working.

What will happen next? Who can say…

Me. Tango is gone next session. Mark my bloody words

More importantly tho, JIMMY HAS HIS BEST PLACEMENT (not counting real life) WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! PHOENIX BLESSING IS REAL

[committingcrimes-2047]

HNNNG GUESS WHOS BACK

(I wrote this way too fast because i needed to write this down before i writers block kicked back in so there are probably spelling mistakes, grammar issues (theres always grammar issues with my writing LMAO) goodluck!)

I'm imagining Reader, who is a traveler who goes overseas often. They go to Piltover and meet Vander and decide to join their cause, becoming a merchant to get extra money to bring in.

Reader is getting ready to set sail with their crew and Vander pulls them aside just before they leave and gives them a promise ring. Once they do set sail, Reader waves at Vander until hes out of sight.

While they were away, Vander, Silco, Connol and Felicia helped him plan an actual proposal. When Reader did finally return, they were expecting to be proposed to the second they got off of the ship but to their surprise, they were just welcomed back normally. After the next few weeks, Reader stays suspicious but in the end figures that he's going to wait until after they beat Piltover.

Once Reader is no longer suspicious, they set the plan in motion.

One day, Felicia invites Reader out and they walk around topside. Eventually, Reader is dragged into a shop and Felicia pretends to look around before "spotting" an outfit that Reader also likes. Felicia convinces them to buy it, and they do. They head back and Reader styles the outfit and while they were changing, Connol told her that everything was ready and they both sneak out.

While Reader and Felicia were out, Silco and Connol had been cooking. Reader faintly smells their favourite food as they walk out, all dressed up and see that the only thing waiting for them was a note saying that Felicia had to go.

Before Reader could change Silco shows up and asks them to help him gather some supplies or something. He insists that they don't need to change and they head out, grabbing bits and pieces from various shops before heading in a direction Reader doesn't recognise and before they can ask about it, Silco hands them a blind fold and asks them to put it on. Which they do, now incredibly suspicious (and slightly concerned).

Silco leads them along until they stop and he walks off, and Vander tells them to take off the blindfold, which they do. Immediately seeing that they're stabding ontop of an old building, a gorgeous view of Piltover and the sky, the sun setting, casting a beautiful glow over the city. Two chairs and a table, covered in their favourite food and drink and fairylights strung up all around. And Vander, dressed nicely and looking uncharacteristicly nervous.

They sit down, eat and talk and eventually the sun has set and they're sitting in comfortable silence when Vander breaks it and asks them to stand up. Weeks of practising what to say go straight out the window and he stutters his way through a small speach before he gives up and pops the question, kneeling and holding up a small box.

Reader stares down at him in shock, completely silent- everything he just said processing in their head and as Vander goes to stand up- akwardly apologising- he gets tackled down by Reader, who happily says yes.

...

NOW IMAGINE

Every year, at the same time, on the anniversary of his proposal. Reader puts on the same outfit, grabs their favourite alcohol sits in the same place they sat on that day. Mourning the life that could have been.

I hope you guys know, I looked into my drafts to posts this and i found this

I have no memory of writing this

[gooobraghhh]

Hey hey,guess what?

CHICKEN BUTT

*runs back to the bed that's suspiciously shaped like I'm gonna get freaky in it with u... hopefully*

🪴 he/him

What way is this bed shaped to where it’s communicating the concept of us fucking, I must ask

Also I’m not sure if I’ve seen this strategy of getting hot women in your bed used before, bit of an immature one aren’t you

[touchlikethesun]

it's a hard balance to strike because shen qingqiu is also not the best at taking care of himself either. i don't think shen qingqiu's issues with self care are specifically tied to his feelings of self worth, i think it's more he wasn't taught how to take care of himself bc of his upbringing, so when someone isn't cleaning and cooking for him it's just not a priority of his, and once in a xianxia setting there are genuine barriers where he probably would have to relearn the basics of how things work but again, he has binghe and disciples that do this for him so i doubt that he ever does.

and with binghe, it would be difficult for shen qingqiu to realise that luo binghe was neglecting himself when shen qingqiu isn't around because luo binghe is really careful with how he acts and presents himself around shen qingqiu. in fact he might not actually ever concretely realise that that happens, but in the way that shen qingqiu wants and pushes for only nice things for binghe, he might intuit on binghe's bad days (which he deffo still has even once they're together) he needs to be a bit more insistent on making sure binghe makes and finishes a full portion of each meal for himself and not just for sqq. idem for nice baths, and soft comfortable clothes. binghe is constantly gifting shen qingqiu new clothes, but always wears the same 3 sets of robes himself, and sqq thinks he just prefers it like that until he notices that the literal emperor of the demon realm has been stitching up tears in his clothes, and at that point he doesn't confront binghe nor does he throw out the robes but by the next week there are 5 more sets of robes in binghe's closets with suspiciously softer fabrics and exceptionally intricate embroidery

there is not a chance in hell that either of them would verablise the issue, so i am also not sure what the resolution would be, but i like to think that after a number of peaceful years, binghe does get better about letting himself have nice things, and not just because it's what shizun wants for him

actually i take that back. idk if i think binghe is great at self care. i can very easily see him neglecting his needs and denying himself nice things because he thinks he’s not worth the effort, and at a certain point “doing it to make shizun happy” probably isn’t enough of a motivation if shen qingqiu isn’t literally in the room with him. i don’t know how shen qingqiu would pick up on it, but if he did he would definitely start being more insistent about binghe joining him for what are essentially spa days under the guise of it being what shen qingqiu wants to do. i think they both have to trick each other into taking care of themselves which is both sad and sweet