#but your dad just calls me katya

[dreamconsumer]

Katya and Trixie.

[roxy206]

KATYA HELPING TRIXIE CHANGE

📷 Gabriel Gastelum for Obsessed | tweet

[katieroo28]

the vibe i bring to the function lately

🔪

[cxndycl0wn]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ⁺‧₊⁺‧₊˚ ⁺‧𓆩♡𓆪 ⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ⁺‧₊˚ ₊˚

𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬

[orphicdreamers-wp]

So High School — Colston Loveland

Summary; In which dating the tight end for Michigan’s football team makes you feel like a high schooler in love.

Content Warnings; light smut if you squint, fluff, based on “so high school” by taylor swift. reader is a philosophy major at umich, reader is jim harbaugh’s daughter (for the plot😛)

I feel so high school, every time I look at you.

You felt your ears warm as you stopped to retrieve your scarf that the chilly Michigan breeze had knocked off your neck. Despite it being negative 3 degrees out you felt a flush breeze through your body as Colston held out a thin textbook towards you, “You dropped this.” Your cheeks pinked up like a giddy schoolgirl as you took the book from him, “Thank you Colston.” The football player paused briefly, “Have we met?” You smiled awkwardly, “I’m Katya’s roommate. We met at JJ’s birthday party last year.” Colston smiled as he put it together, “Ah, Katya’s shy roommate who ducked out super early. Also Coach H’s girl.” You smiled softly as the steaming apple cider in your hands fogged up your glasses, “Yeah that’s me. I have to get going, I’m already late to my intro to ethics class.” Colston smiled warmly as you disappeared down the sidewalk, he made a mental note to ask JJ to ask Kayta about your relationship situation.

I wanna find you in a crowd, just to hide from you.

A few weeks had passed since your interaction with Colston on the sidewalk. A few days after that interaction Colston had followed your private instagram which you learned JJ had given him in hopes of setting you up. You were currently huddled up with Katya at one of JJ and Colston’s football games. You absentmindedly searched the field for the blue jersey with the maize number 18 adorning the back. Your teeth were chattering from the chill air as the football spiraled from JJ’s hand and danced through the air before landing safely in Colston’s arms as his feet danced over the endzone. Michigan had won.

Katya squealed and grabbed your hand and pulled you down to the field. She left you alone as she made her way over to JJ. You scanned the crowd hoping to find Colston but falling short. A silky smooth voice filled your ears, “Looking for me pretty?” Your cheeks flushed a bright red as you spun around to find Colston smiling down at you. You grinned warmly, “Maybe so Loveland. Nice catch.” Colston smiled as he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Thanks pretty. Do you have plans after this?” You smiled up at him, “Nah, Katya is probably gonna catch a ride back with JJ so I’m gonna catch the last bus back to campus and walk to our apartment. You?” Colston smiled, “No way, come out with me. I’m going down the road to Fleetwood’s Diner. Come with me.”

You hummed, “I don’t know. I don’t have my card and I only have a $20. Maybe next time?” Colston grinned, “Or you could let me pay for you this time and you can cover me next time?” You smiled at the boy, realizing he wasn’t giving up, “Fine only because Fleetwood’s has really good milkshakes.”

Tell me bout the first time you saw me

You awkwardly played with the rings on your fingers as you and Colston sat in a booth across from each other. You smiled softly as Colston spoke, “I still remember the first day I saw you and I actually think i crapped my pants.” A hearty laugh left your lips, “No! Why? I’m so sweet.” Colston grinned, “You had called your dad and said something about your tire was flat and you were crying because you didn’t know how to change a tire. He sent me and JJ to go change your tire for you. You were wearing an old ratty UMich tshirt and you looked like you’d been crying for hours and you were still so beautiful I swear I had never seen someone look so perfect until then.” Your cheeks pinked at his words as he smiled at you, “Go out with me. Like for real.” You looked taken aback slightly, “Okay.” Colston wasn’t expecting you to agree immediately so a warm smile washed over him.

I’ll drink what you think.

A few weeks had passed since Colston had asked you out, you had gone on two separate dates. The first being at a ace throwing place which suprisingly was a lot of fun, the second had been at a restaurant overlooking Lake Michigan and you were positive that he was going to kiss you goodnight when he dropped you off but he didn’t. You currently were stood in the off campus house some of the hockey players lived in at some party. You entered the kitchen to find Colston pouring some sort of alcohol into a red solo cup. You smiled as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, “I’m sure my dad would love this.” Colston grinned as he instinctively reached for you and draped his arms around your waist, “Hi pretty. You thirsty?” You hummed, “Sure.” Colston grinned as he poured some Pink Whitney into a red cup, “Here you are gorgeous.”

You crinkled your nose at the strong smell of alcohol in your cup. Colston’s eyes searched to see if his drink assumption was correct. You noticed and smiled warmly as you sipped the drink. Colston spoke lowly, “Not the right drink is it?” You laughed softly, “No I’m more of a vodka person.” Colston hummed as he slightly frowned, “Why didn’t you say anything?” You grinned, “A cute boy did something sweet for me I can’t turn that down.”

Colston leaned closer to you, “Can I kiss you?” You smiled as your breath hitched ever so slightly, “I thought you’d never ask.” You leaned in a shared a sweet and passionate kiss with the tight end. You pulled away slightly breathless, “Wow.” Colston laughed as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Wow is right.”

I’m watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night

Shortly after you two shared the kiss at the party you and Colston decided to exclusively see each other. Colston was more of the social butterfly so not going out every weekend was different for him to say the least. But suprisingly the football player was content to be laying in your arms at 10:45 on a Saturday night watching the end of your favorite movie of all time, American Pie. He had tried to convince you to watch Any Given Sunday but was unsuccessful in his attempt. However you two did compromise and were going to watch Happy Gilmore next.

Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It’s just a game but really I’m betting on all three.

You were rested upon Colston’s lap as the entire friend group was sitting around drunkenly playing kiss, marry and kill. JJ had to be the trashed of them all, he had thrown out your name, a annoying girl from his and Colston’s economics class and the water boy for Colston’s turn. Your boyfriend looked at you for help, unsure what to say. You hummed, “It’s just a game lovey.” Colston hummed as he traced circles into your bare thigh, “Marry my girl, kiss Carl the water boy and kill Sharon.” You hummed as you pressed a kiss against Colston’s lips, “You soo want to marry me.” Colston tucked your hair on one side of your head, “One day pretty. One day.”

Get my car door, isn’t that sweet

You grinned sheepishly as Colston pressed a kiss against your lips, “Don’t move.” It was pouring down rain and it was apparent the rain was harsh. Colston got out of his truck and ran around the front of the car and opened the door for you holding his jacket above your hair so it didn’t get wet. Your heart swelled at the sight of your boyfriend running back to his truck in the pouring rain.

No one’s ever had me not like you

Going back to your moms house with Colston was terrifying for you. Your parents had divorced when you were a freshman in high school so your years were split between their houses. You had your first kiss in your moms house. And the same boy you had kissed still lived next door to your mother. You were nervous about taking Colston home to begin with because your mom and you had a rocky relationship and you didn’t want to deal with her criticism.

But as you stood between your boyfriend who was very clearly jealous of Tyler who had been your first kiss, you were more nervous about that. You traced your nails over Colston’s tattooed arm, which seemed to calm him. You looked up at him and he relaxed as you entered your moms house. You spoke slowly, “No one has ever made me feel what you make me feel Colst.” Colston relaxed and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “Thank you pretty.”

Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto

You had grown accustomed to being around the Michigan football players as your relationship with Colston progressed. You had always been someone who was uncomfortable with PDA so for you to let Colston finger you while you sat in his best friends living room as they played GTA was pretty much unheard of. But you let it happen.

I feel like laughing, in the middle of practice to that impression you did of your dad.

Colston had absentmindedly been off his game all week. Coach Harbaugh had recently found out about his relationship with you and Colston felt like the other shoe was going to drop any minute now. You had laughed when Colston expressed his feelings. You had done a damn good impression of your father finding out about your relationship with Colston. So all week in practice Colston found himself near laughter when he thought of it. And you were right, your father reacted exactly the way you imagined he would.

You knew what you wanted and boy you got her.

_colstonloveland_: happy anniversary my pretty angel girl. two years of being entranced by you, one year of being your boyfriend. i love you💗 (tagged yourusername)

yourusername; baby🥹 i love you more than life💗

jjmccarthy; finally we set them up @katyakurpos

— katyakurpos: almost cuter than us🥹

user88; when he pines for her before being her bf😫

rutgermcgroarty: we all love y/n🫡

coachjim4um; my sweetest girl she’s so happy with you colston! thank you🙂🙂

[asherlookit]

But your dad just calls me katya x

[aquaaquila]

The Owl House Family Tree

Behold, the family of the Owl House mixed with my headcanons that I made because I felt like it, and gosh is it crazy. Explanation under the cut lol

The Grimwalkers (and Hunter who's a grimwalker) were created by Philip, essentially being his children, but Philip created them using Caleb's DNA and modeled them in his image. So yeah, they pretty much are both parents of Grimwalkers as they're not perfect clones of Caleb and it's fucked up in plenty of ways

Since both Gwen and Dell are theorized to be descendants of Clawthorne with how Gwendolyn follows the mold of Clawthorne women with her looks, power, and name. Still, then there's Dell who has an uncanny resemblance to Philip and Caleb, along with being the best wood-carver in the wood-carving family, so it's not clear who's the Clawthorne and who was married to Clawthornes, I went a different route. I made Gwendolyn a very very distant descendant of Clawthorne's ancestor (16 generations and possibly even more), whereas Dell is the descendant of Caleb as a compromise.

Lilith and Hooty are in QPR.

I included Hooty's mom along with possible ancestors and used the tapeworm in Titan's eye as a point of reference.

The BATTs are adopted children of Raine and Eda's co-parent to them. She however adopted the Collector, King, and Luz individually, even though Raine also would co-parent them to an extent. Granted Eda was called "mama Eda" by Amber, whereas Luz, King, and the Collector never referred to Raine as their parent.

Raine and Eda are neither dating nor married, but a secret third thing. And the same applies to Darius and Alador

Camila and Perry Porter (Gus's dad) are in QPR as well.

Professor Hermonculus is Amity's grandparent because yes xD

Eberwolf and Darius are "like brothers" but they aren't officially brothers by either blood or adoption, or they're necessarily in QPR. They're just bros.

Darius had a failed relationship that resulted in Gavin (that abomination Glandus kid). That's rather a leftover theory with plenty of story-telling potential that came back from season 2A days when we knew nothing about Darius and were looking for some connections. The picture of the mom came from the old photo from Reaching Out.

Gavin is dating Cat (Amity's former friend, she set them up).

There was a funny theory that once I heard about Mason being dad of Willow's dad and I decided to go along with it because A) I find it funny, especially since the point of connection is how alike they look, and B) explains where Willow got her green eyes from.

Mason is a grandparent of Matt and Steve, as I figured he's too old to maybe be just their dad IMO, but he could still be. It's also an old and forgotten theory from times of TOH S2B when Steve got revealed to be Matt's step-brother (meaning they share one parent and have 2 different parents of their own) and there were storyboards of ASIAS that revealed there was a storyline with Mason and Tholomules, granted as I said, it was forgotten so I can't say it's really valid.

Steve and Katya are dating. @secretly-of-course here is your Stevatya mention.

Any other questions? The ones that aren't asking who is who, unless it is a really obscure character then let me know.

[petrovna-zamo]

🎶 You can call me Lady Whistledown, but your dad just calls me Katya 🎶

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I know it's been a while; been dealing with some health issues and uni work. I shared a teaser of chapter 16, which I actually had to split into two chapters because it reached 20k words and that's just ridiculous for me personally lol. Hope you enjoy <3

CW/TW: Slight angst, mild mention of violence

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Roman’s couch was far too soft for a mind that wouldn’t stop racing.

It wasn’t surprising that Nate couldn’t sleep, even though it had just passed 2am. Her leather jacket was bunched up at her lower back, some kind of feeble attempt at some comfort. But the ache of her body was too much, and her thoughts were circling like vultures around death as she stared at the screen of her phone, aimlessly swiping between apps and trying to lose herself in the virtual world. 

Everything felt… off. Unreal. It was like she was trapped in some kind of dream—the kind in which no matter how hard you try and wake yourself up, no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just a dream, you’re stuck in it. It’s real. And it’s not going away.

Katya: Alexei and Boris are staying at the house tonight. And I don’t know why, nobody will tell me anything.

Nate frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. Alexei and Boris weren’t just hanging around for fun—they only showed up together at the house for either alcohol, or business. Either way, it meant something was happening; normally, Nate would be informed about meetings or visits, business endeavours… But the fact that she wasn’t this time, it didn’t sit right.

Katya: Where are u anyway??

With a sigh, she typed out a response.

Nate: Lana’s

Nate: And that’s weird. You didn’t overhear anything or…

Katya: No. It was all very… weird. They didn’t even see me standing there. They went into dad’s office.

Nate: Right… 

Nate: Lock your door and get some sleep if you can. If anything seems off or if you hear something, call me.

Nate: I mean it, you call me if something happens.

Nate: Promise me.

Katya: Ok

Katya: Nate, you’re my best friend, aside from my sister.

Katya: There’s nobody else I would call.

Katya: ily 🩷

Nate: Love you too x

A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach, but there wasn’t much she could do from here. Whatever was going on at the house, it would have to wait until she got back. She had business to take care of before then. And as guilty as it made Nate feel for lying to her sister about her whereabouts, she had to keep reminding herself that it was for Katya. For her future. Both of their futures. A dangerous life with dangerously high stakes had to be neutralised before chaos struck. Because once chaos strikes, one only has a certain amount of time before a complete implosion.

And chaos had, indeed, struck.

Switching over to her conversation thread with Boris, she thought about texting him to ask what was going on, but as soon as she opened the chat, her eyes were drawn to the unopened image attachment at the top of the screen.

Bloody hell, what now?

The second the photo loaded on her screen, she had the impulse to fling her phone to the other side of the room, far away from her eyes. A grotesque image of Boris in front of a mirror, flexing, his pale skin bare of any clothing. Completely nude. She groaned audibly, her face scrunching in disgust.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, immediately closing the chat and tossing her phone beside her. Of all the things she didn’t need to deal with right now, Boris and his misguided attempts at seduction were at the top of the list.

“I brought you a blanket.”

Nate turned around quickly to see Naomi standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in her arms. Tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how Nate would react to her showing up in the middle of the night. Everyone made the executive decision to stay at Roman’s house that night, considering the meet up occurring the day after. And for a minute, Nate forgot where she was exactly—a place she really shouldn’t be.

“Oh,” she exhaled, calming her nerves. “Uh, thanks.”

Naomi offered a small smile and walked over, holding the blanket out to Nate. “I figured you didn’t have anything with you… the big guy ain’t exactly stocked up on guest amenities.”

Nate couldn’t help but snort at that, taking the blanket and setting it in her lap. “Yeah, I noticed”

Lingering for a moment, Naomi shifted on her feet. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure, whatever,” Nate shrugged, leaning back into the couch as Naomi sat next to her, tucking one leg under the other and glancing around the room before her gaze settled on Nate again.

“I, uh…” she started softly. “I just wanted to apologise about the whole engagement party thing. I didn’t mean for it to… well, I don’t want you to think I was there to start anything. I wasn’t spying or nothin’.”

Nate tilted her head slightly, her tired eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You weren’t?”

“No, not really. I mean, Roman asked me to be there, yeah, but I wasn’t tryna make trouble. I was just… watching, I guess. I don’t want you to think I, like… have it out for you or anything.”

Nate studied Naomi’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but she found none. She seemed genuine, even back at the party. It was a strange contrast to the tension Nate usually felt in the presence of Roman’s inner circle.

“Okay,” Nate cautiously accepted. “Then what exactly were you doing there?”

Sighing, Naomi pulled her hands into her lap and played with the edges of her robe sleeves. “Honestly, just tryna keep an eye on things. I know how the big guy can be… how intense he can get. I think he’s just worried about… you bein’ around—about whether or not he can trust you. And I guess he thought I could give him some perspective. But I wasn’t there to judge you.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, her scepticism still evident, but she nodded slowly. “Right…”

“Look, I get why you’d be pissed about it. Hell, I’d be too. But for what it’s worth… I don’t see you as a threat. I don’t know the full story, but my ass has been around enough Roman Reignses in my life to know when someone’s got potential.”

“Potential for what?” Nate huffed through a low, humourless laugh.

“To be somebody Roman trusts,” Naomi said simply. “That ain’t something he gives lightly, y’know? But I think he sees something in you. He wouldn’t have let you stick around this long if he didn’t!”

The comment caught Nate off-guard, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Roman’s trust wasn’t something she’d ever considered herself earning at any point during any of this. And to be frank, he’d be wise to share that sentiment. Nate didn’t exactly trust easily either.

“I’m not really looking to be Roman’s most trusted ally here,” she muttered, trying to deflect.

“I know,” Naomi nodded. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t happening, though.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Nate pondered the words. Still unconvinced that Roman Reigns trusting her was on the horizon, in any universe. 

“I think you’re handling everything pretty well. Given that the boys are a bunch of barnyard animals.”

Nate scoffed, shaking her head. “If this is me handling things well, I’d hate to see what a disaster looks like.”

Naomi chuckled quietly. “Girl, you’re doing just fine.”

Nate let out a deep breath, feeling a little of the tension ease out of her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she believed Naomi, but it was nice to hear something other than suspicion for once. 

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice subdued.

Naomi smiled and gave her a small nod, standing up from the couch and stretching out her arms. “Well, I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long ass day.”

“Yeah,” Nate quietly agreed, watching out of her peripherals as Naomi took a step towards the door, paused, and glanced back at her.

“If you need anything whenever you’re here… just let me know, okay?”

Nate finally broke out a tiny smile. “Will do.”

With that, Naomi left the room, leaving Nate alone again in the quiet darkness.

On the plus side, Nate managed a fitful hour and a half of sleep before she jolted awake, her body stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen into on the couch. The blanket Naomi had brought her was tangled around her legs, offering little comfort. With an irritated sigh, she pushed it off and sat up, her head heavy, and the room thick with early-morning silence.

3:45am. She groaned as she read the time on her phone, running a hand through her hair. Honestly, she could have just gotten up and driven back to Tribeca, or to Lana’s place. Could have. But she didn’t. She put up with the discomfort of sleeping in Roman Reigns’ house, on the couch. God, if Dimitri could see her right now… No, she didn’t even want to entertain that possibility. 

Suddenly, the soft creak of footsteps caught her attention. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the stairs, narrowing slightly as a dark figure emerged.

Roman.

In this low lighting, he looked even more imposing—which she didn’t think could be possible—with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the fitted T-shirt stretched across his chest. It was clear he hadn’t exactly been asleep either.

Roman crossed the room without acknowledging her at first, his focus entirely on the bar in the corner. He wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet as he methodically poured himself a glass of whiskey with a slightly clumsy exterior. Something about his demeanour screamed stress, despite the carefully controlled facade he always maintained. The whiskey sloshed in the glass, the sound crisp in the otherwise silent space.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what the hell had brought him downstairs at this hour. Was he still riled up from earlier? Was something else gnawing at him? Nate didn’t have the energy to ask, but she couldn’t help but feel unnerved by it. Especially when he turned, one drink in each hand, and headed toward the couch—the couch she was on.

Instead of choosing any of the empty chairs scattered around the room, Roman sat down at the opposite end of the couch from her, his broad frame taking up more space than necessary. The leather creaked under his weight, and Nate tensed slightly, unsure of why he’d chosen to sit so close. She had expected him to stay aloof, maybe ignore her entirely like he just did moments ago. But here he was, settling in, clearly not in a hurry to go back to where he’d come from.

He held out one of the glasses in her direction, and she hesitated. Eyed the drink suspiciously.

“You look like you need it,” Roman muttered, his tone edged with something almost… defeated?

Nate blinked, caught off-guard. Roman wasn’t exactly the sympathetic type from what she’d witnessed, especially not with her, and the offer made her brow arch in confusion. Nevertheless, she took the glass from him, her fingers brushing the cold condensation, but she didn’t drink it. Instead, she just stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on in his head.

They sat in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. She took little intervals to glance over at him, the sharp lines of his profile barely softened by the modest light. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles tight around his own glass as he took a slow sip.

It was strange—seeing him like this. Roman was always so controlled, always in charge, but right now… something was off.

Nate wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the weariness etched into his face, but the usual tension between them felt muted, replaced by something entirely different. Heavier. It was almost like Roman was trying to drown himself in nothingness, the drink in his hand a poor substitute for whatever was really bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Who’s your contact?”

She snapped her head toward him, furrowing her eyebrows. “If I told you, you’d just have another thing to be mad at me for.”

Immediately, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. Her irritation, the bone-deep exhaustion, everything was making her more short-tempered than usual. She sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just tired.”

Roman didn’t react to her apology, didn’t even flinch at the attitude—she was sure he had become accustomed to, or at the very least expectant of, her disposition by now. 

He simply took another drink, staring off into the distance, as if her words didn’t even register. She studied him carefully now, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the subtle slump in his usually rigid posture. It was clear—whatever had him in this state wasn’t about her.

The sight of him in this light, in this position at 4am… it stirred something in her. Roman was always so invincible, so unbreakable. Witnessing him this drained, this… human, pulled at her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She sighed again, this time not out of frustration, but pity. “Becky Lynch,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the glass. “That’s my contact.”

Roman finally turned to look at her, his brows narrowing. “Aiden’s daughter?”

Nate nodded, watching his expression closely. She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out why she, of all people, would be reaching out to someone deep in the bloodline of the very people she’s trying to catch out, fully knowing that there was a low chance of her actually being truthful. Roman wasn’t the type to ask for clarification outright, but the question was written all over his face. Why Becky Lynch?

Her exhausted eyes met his. “There’s literally nobody else,” she said, barely above a whisper. “No information anywhere that you can find that’ll be more helpful, more valuable than what comes from Becky. She also…” she paused for a second, “never really had a great relationship with her dad, so…”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. It was recognition. Maybe. He leaned back slightly, giving her a once over in that quiet, calculating manner he always had.

“So,” he murmured. “A bit like you then.”

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt, and for a moment, the silence between them felt more intimate, more charged than before. Roman wasn’t asking for more information, wasn’t pushing her for answers. He was simply… acknowledging something. Something they both understood but never talked about.

Nate leaned back into the couch, finally taking a sip of the whiskey Roman had handed her. It burned as it slid down her throat, and she grimaced slightly, setting the glass on the small table beside the couch. Her eyes drifted back to him, noticing how he hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything since his last comment. He just sat there, staring off into nothing.

It wasn’t hard to see that Roman’s mood had been exceptionally dark and volatile since she’d arrived—snapping at anyone and everyone who came near him. Whatever he was going through now was the comedown, the aftermath of exerting so much energy into being angry. Drained, like whatever had been pushing him to that edge had finally started to wear him down. 

And for some reason, it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“So…” Nate started, crossing her arms and leaning forward, studying his expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you? Or are we just gonna sit here pretending that everything’s fine when you’ve been in a mood foul enough to scare off half your family?”

Roman’s eyes flitted in her direction, wordlessly contemplating whether or not to even bother with her question. She couldn’t blame him. Asking Roman to open up was probably more like trying to pry a locked door open with your bare hands—frustrating and usually pointless.

“I mean,” she continued, her tone more defensive, “It’s not because I care or anything. I just need you to be at one hundred percent. We need to figure out who’s responsible for the shipment. And whoever killed Priest isn’t gonna wait around while you throw temper tantrums.”

Nate expected him to snap back at her, to say something biting, but he just stared down at the whiskey in his glass, swirling the amber liquid around in slow, measured circles. The silence dragged on again, and she was starting to think he was going to ignore her completely when he finally spoke.

“I’m havin’... ex-wife issues,” Roman muttered, the words coming out like they’d been dragged from the back of his throat.

That was… unexpected. Nate raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Ex-wife issues? The words didn’t even sound like they belonged in the same sentence as Roman Reigns. He seemed too… detached for something like that.

“You? Married?” she asked, her tone laced with playful disbelief, though she didn’t push too hard. “Now that’s a twist. Never pegged you for the type.”

Roman let out a dry, humourless chuckle, still not looking directly at her. “Yeah, me neither. I try not to regret it. But it’s hard not to when you’re dealin’ with… shit like this.”

Nate couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “Well, exes can be psychotic sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, this ex has filed a whole ass custody petition for our daughter,” Roman said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to catch them.

Nate blinked. And then blinked again.

Roman… had a daughter?

That was a hell of a thing to drop in the middle of the night like that.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter,” she said softly, not teasing this time, just genuinely taken aback.

Roman finally looked at her, albeit with a mix of exhaustion and something else—maybe irritation, maybe resignation. “Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly someone I like to talk to.”

Void of venom, his words were just a blunt truth that Nate couldn’t argue with. They weren’t close, they weren’t even civil a majority of the time; why would they sit around and swap personal stories? 

She pursed her lips, an unexpected pang of empathy arising. She knew what it was like to have family issues drag you through the mud, even if her circumstances were different. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprising even herself with the sincerity of the words. She wasn’t one to apologise much, especially not to someone like Roman.

Roman’s jaw tightened, but after a beat, he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Nah. That was outta line. You didn’t deserve that.”

Nate chewed at the drying skin on her lower lip, shifting uncomfortably—not because of Roman, but because of the realisation that she actually… cared. About Roman’s situation. About how all of this was clearly affecting him more than he was letting on.

“I take it she’s causing trouble,” she said just above a whisper, looking down at her lap. 

Roman huffed, leaning back and rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You could say that. Maria’s always been a problem. Thought I was done with her shit when we split, just had to deal with her when it was in Ava’s best interest. But… custody battles? That’s a whole different level of bullshit I ain’t ready for.”

“So, what does she want? Money?”

He shook his head, staring off into the distance again. “Nah, it ain’t about that. I think she just… wants control. Wants to prove I’m not a good father. That I’m too tied up in all this for shared custody.”

“I didn’t even know you had a kid,” she hummed, more to herself than to him. The thought of Roman’s stress being split between the business, the shipment, and the threat of losing his daughter to an ex-wife he clearly didn’t see eye-to-eye with—made her stomach twist a little. “Guess it makes sense, though. Why wouldn’t you want to keep that part of your life… separate?”

Roman’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “Yeah. You get it, right? Gotta protect what matters.”

Nate nodded slowly. She did understand. More than he knew. But there was no way she was going to spill her soul out to him. Even if he’d started to peel back a thin layer himself.

“Exes can be a real pain in the arse,” she said, her voice a little lighter now. “But it sounds like she’s going for the jugular with this one. Custody petitions? That’s not just a fight; that’s war.”

He let out a low grunt, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his whiskey in one smooth motion. “Yeah. And she ain’t exactly playin’ fair.”

With a small, almost menacing chuckle, she rested her arm on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “Well… it’s a good thing you don’t play fair either.”

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from Roman. “Damn straight.”

For the first time, the tension between them had eased enough that the conversation felt almost… normal. Almost.

Nate reached back to pick up her own glass, the burn of whiskey less harsh when she took another sip. “You gonna be alright with all this?”

Roman didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the empty glass in his hand. Contortions on his face mirrored his thoughts; twisted and sharp. “Yeah. I’ll handle it. Always do.”

She nodded, though a part of her wondered how much longer he could keep handling everything on his own without something giving way. But that wasn’t her problem to fix.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The car slowed to a halt a couple of blocks from their destination, a gritty, rundown coffee shop on the corner of Houston Street and Essex in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It was one of those places that had clearly seen better days—faded signage, chipped paint, and a few patrons who looked like they’d been sitting in the same seats for years. The kind of joint where no one asked questions and fewer paid attention. Perfect for a low-key meeting.

Nate shuffled awkwardly in the backseat, casting a sidelong glance at Tamina, who was silently checking over the small wire she was about to strap to Nate. Roman sat in the passenger seat, one hand draped lazily over the console while his gaze was fixed out the window, unreadable as usual. Paul was behind the wheel, ever the silent observer, but as always, his presence loomed large.

“I still don’t get why this is necessary,” Nate muttered under her breath in mild annoyance. “I could just tell you what Becky says afterwards.”

Roman responded with a small quirk of his mouth that suggested he was enjoying her discomfort far more than he should be. Tamina, on the other hand, was all business.

“You know the deal,” she said firmly, but not entirely unkind as she clipped the wire to Nate’s jacket. “We don’t trust anyone’s word, especially not when we don’t know them too well. We need to hear it in real-time.”

Nate rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. It was pointless. Ever since she agreed to work with Roman, nothing had been straightforward, and they’d had her under more scrutiny than her father as of late. It came with strings, thick ones, and this was just one of them. If she was to talk to someone, it would be documented. Period. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she sighed, glancing down at the wire now attached to the inside of her jacket. “But what, you think I’ll just forget a key detail? I’m not exactly an amateur with this kinda stuff.”

Roman’s low chuckle filled the car, breaking the quiet tension. “This ain’t about you being an amateur. It’s about making sure there ain’t any surprises. And trust me,” he added, his tone dripping with that familiar arrogant charm, “This’ll help you way more than you think. You’d rather us hear it now than grill you later, right?”

She shot him a look, unimpressed but also knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong. He had a way of bending the truth just enough to make it sound like he was doing her a favour. Typical Roman. She huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

The smirk on his face grew slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’ll get over it.”

Tamina finished adjusting the wire and sat back, satisfied with her work. She gave Nate a nod, signalling she was good to go. Paul shifted in the driver’s seat, speaking up for the first time since they’d gotten there.

“So,” he began, “Ms. Volkov. Where does your father think you are?”

Nate paused, her hand brushing over her leather-clad arm, smoothing out any folds. “A friend’s house,” she replied with a shrug, so nonchalantly.

“And that friend will back you up? Be your alibi?” Roman asked.

“Yep.” Nate didn’t look at him when she answered, her focus instead on the street outside. The wind moved the few sparse trees, a gust here and there, and she had a moment to breathe in the quiet before the meeting.

However, Roman wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her properly from the front seat. “You’re sure?”

Nate snapped her head to him, a flash of agitation sparking in her eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Roman, yes. I’ve done this before, my friend will back me up.”

He raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze for a beat longer before giving a slight nod. Tamina and Paul exchanged glances, their silent communication not lost on Nate. But before anyone could push further, Roman waved his hand dismissively. “Fine. I’m just making sure you don’t fuck this up.”

Nate rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to shield the little smirk on her face. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.”

With everything set, Tamina gave Nate one last lok, almost a silent check to see if she was truly ready. Nate exhaled, her confidence steady, and nodded.

“Alright,” Tamina said. “You’re good to go. Just keep it cool, Zayn and the twins are a few blocks down in case anythin’ goes wrong.”

The younger woman gave her a quick hum of understanding before she opened the door and stepped out of the car. The midday sun was still muted, casting long shadows across the pavement. The streets were busier now, people going about their day unaware of the underworld dealings happening just a few feet away. Nate glanced back at the car for a moment, catching Roman’s gaze through the tinted window. He watched her like a hawk, and though she couldn’t see his expression fully, she could most definitely feel the weight of his eyes tracking her every move.

The silence stretched for a minute or so as Roman watched Nate walk away, disappearing and blending into the small spurts of people along the sidewalk. Paul cleared his throat, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

“She didn’t want to wear the wire, boss,” he commented cautiously, as if he were testing the waters.

Roman leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on the direction Nate had gone. “Yeah. I know.”

Tamina turned in her seat, her sharp cat-eyed gaze landing on Roman. “You think she’ll leave it on?”

With a slow exhale, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face hardened, the lines of mild wisdom and fatigue strengthening in his expression. “I don’t know. But I guess we’re about to find out if our… Euro-Asian ally can really be trusted,” he muttered.

Nate had on her game face as she approached the small café where she was set to meet Becky, her pacing in line with the other pedestrians. Scanning every detail of her surroundings without looking like she was; she was experienced—did this more times than she could count—but this time felt a little more… personal. The last time she’d seen Becky, tensions had been at an all-time high, and the years of silence between them hadn’t dulled the edge of that old bitterness. If anything, it made the situation more volatile. 

As she neared the entrance, she stopped for a second, adjusting her jacket just enough to make sure the wire stayed hidden. She ran her hands over her hair in an attempt to look more presentable, catching sight of unmistakable red hair from inside, standing out like a flare in the low light of the dim interior.

The bell on the door tinkled softly as she stepped inside. It was quiet, save for a few patrons scattered across the room, either lost in their laptops or deep in conversation. Nate clocked every exit, took note of where people were seated, and scanned the staff in the unlikely case that one of them was a plant. Old habits.

Becky didn’t look up immediately. She was seated at a corner table, nursing what looked like a coffee, her posture relaxed. You could feel the tension pulled taut between them, and when their eyes finally met, there was a brief flicker of recognition—more distant than familiar. 

Nate approached cautiously, her boots making soft thuds against the hardwood floor, and took a seat across from Becky without a word.

“Long time,” Nate said, keeping her voice low and steady.

Becky smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before resting back. “Lucky you,” she began, her voice carrying that signature Irish lilt, “That I’m even here. Thought about telling you to fuck off, but… I wanted to see you. See how much like your father you’ve become.”

It appeared as though Nate kept her composure, but her hands balled up into tight fists under the table, bristling at such an insinuation. She could tell Becky meant every word. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, so…”

Becky raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “So what, you’re goin’ behind your da’s back now?” She scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You were always the loyal one. One hundred and ten percent Volkov, through and through. What’s changed?”

Nate hesitated for only a second, quickly catching herself. “It’s complicated. And none of your business.”

“Everything’s complicated with your family,” Becky eyed her carefully, her fingers tapping idly on her cup.

There was a pause, and the insinuation of their shared history hung over the two of them like a massive, dark cloud. 

“I’m not here to talk about my dad,” Nate said, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a situation. A shipment stolen. Damian Priest, dead in the process. Bad Bunny’s compound was ambushed. Irish flag on the car. I need answers, Becky.”

The redhead across from her didn’t betray much conclusion on her face, but she did display a brief flicker of familiarity at the mention of Priest. Letting the information sink in, she lowered her gaze to the table.

After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged.

That simple gesture made Nate’s chest tighten in rage. “A shrug?” Her voice rose a little. “That’s all you’ve got for me? A fucking shrug?”

Becky met Nate’s anger with cool indifference, drinking more of her coffee before answering. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nate.”

“You can tell me why your family is still fucking with us after all this time. Because I swear to God, if this is about some old gru—”

“My family didn’t do shit.”

“Sure as hell looks like it.”

Becky’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her icy demeanour cracked. “My family isn’t even in the States anymore.”

Nate froze, her brows knitting. “What?”

“You heard me,” Becky said, dropping her voice an octave. “We left. After what your da pulled… my father hasn’t been the same. You want to know why you haven’t heard from us? It’s because we haven’t been here. My family’s been in Ireland for years. My da’s in a fuckin’ wheelchair. And believe me, we ain’t coming back.”

This wasn’t adding up.

“No,” Nate shook her head. “You… They have to be here. None of this makes sense otherwise.”

Becky shook her head, exasperation etched all over. “After your da took over X, mine was done. He’s been out of the game since then. It’s a round-the-clock job for whoever looks after him now, there’s no fuckin’ way my family’s involved in whatever bullshit you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“My father is not to blame for that,” Nate found herself defending her dad, hating that her family was being blamed period. “He did what he had to do. If it hadn’t been him, it would’ve been someone else. That’s how this business works, Becky, you know that.”

Gaze hardening, Becky leaned forward as her voice dropped to a growl. “His moves, his ‘business’ nearly killed my dad. He had a stroke after his blood pressure got too high. You want to defend him? Fine. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch your da waste away. Good relationship, or not.” She took a deep, shaky breath, calming herself. “It would’ve been more dignified to put a bullet in his head than to let him end up like this.”

The brutal honesty of Becky’s statement momentarily stunned Nate. But she wasn’t here to dwell on the past or the people they’d lost along the way, nor was she here to play catch-up, to offer her sympathy. She had a job to do.

“Why are you here then?” she asked more curiously than accusatory. “If your family’s back home, why are you still in the States?”

“That’s none of your business.” Becky crossed her arms.

But Nate wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the small details—the subtle changes in Becky’s appearance, the way she carried herself. Most importantly, the ring on her left hand.

“You’re married,” Nate casually commented, observing Becky’s face closely. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t make it sound like it matters to you.”

“It must be someone important if nobody can find anything about you anymore. Must have taken a lot to disappear so cleanly.”

And there it was. She had the upper hand. 

“So,” she continued insistently, “You’re telling me that whoever ambushed us, whoever killed Damian Priest, and whoever stole our shipment… it wasn’t the Irish?”

Becky met her gaze head-on, her eyes clear and resolute. “My family hasn’t returned since they were chased out. I’m the only one left because I don’t want anything to do with it anymore.”

Nate sat back, letting Becky’s words settle. For all the hostility, all the unresolved history between them, she believed her. It was in her tone. The inflictions. The way her eyes stayed confidently locked onto Nate’s as she pleaded her case. 

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Becky sighed, looking away for the first time. “I wish I had more for you, but I don’t. My family’s outta this. And so am I.”

Tensions were rising back in the SUV. How could the Irish not be involved? It was their flag, for fuck’s sake! It seemed like everytime they got closer to an answer, it was ripped out from under them. And Roman just wanted to know where his half was—where his weaponry ended up! Who the fuck would be so audacious as to fuck with The Bloodline, and the Volkovs. 

Paul leaned closer to the speakers. “What do you think, boss? You buy what Lynch is saying?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, nose flaring a little. “I don’t know yet. But Nate’s got history with her. She’ll know if it’s bullshit.”

“You trust her?” Tamina asked, raising her brows.

“I trust that she’s as desperate as we are right now. That’s good enough—for now.”

It seemed as though Nate and Becky’s conversation was coming to a close, and just as Tamina was readying the boxes that had contained the wire, Becky spoke again.

“How have you been holding up since…”

Her voice trailed off, and Roman furrowed his eyebrows. He exchanged a glance with Paul, who was equally puzzled. They didn’t know what Becky was referring to, but it was clear that whatever it was, it struck a nerve with Nate.

“Fine,” Nate’s voice responded, but even through the static, Roman could hear the lie; he’d grown used to hearing when someone was holding back on the truth.

“Lyin’ ass,” he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure about that?” Becky pressed on, not letting Nate slip away so easily.

The pause between question and response felt like it lasted forever, and Roman picked up on the uneven rhythm of Nate’s breathing.

“Yeah,” she finally said, albeit rather flat. Clearly wanting to end this conversation. But Becky wasn’t done.

“Did you find out who did it?”

Roman shot Paul a glance. “Who did what?”

Paul shook his head, indicating he had no idea what the fuck they were talking about either.

Nate’s response was barely audible. “No.”

“You haven’t tried?” Becky asked again, her tone betraying a sense of disbelief.

“Dad tried in the beginning,” Nate admitted. “But I think it got too much for him. And now… it’s like she never even existed.”

Roman’s frown deepened. She? Whoever they were talking about, whatever they were talking about, they were way past the topic of the Irish, the shipment, and the ambush. It was personal. He tried to piece together what was going on, thinking back to the limited conversations he and Nate had shared since agreeing to work with each other. The only one that came to mind was the way her disposition switched entirely at the mention of her mother, back when they paid Bunny’s men a visit.

“Are you still trying?”

There was a long silence, causing Roman to impatiently lean forward as though it was going to drag the answer from the speakers. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of control, and right now, that’s exactly what this conversation was doing to him. He hated it.

Finally, there was an answer. “Yes….”

“And how’s that going?” Becky’s question felt like a final blow, digging into an old wound.

Nate let out a bitter laugh. “A load of bollocks.”

The sound of her frustration was so familiar by this point, so raw, that her accent tickled him in a way it hadn’t in the past. He smirked, despite the severity of the task at hand, mumbling, “Love how she says that shit…”

Paul raised an eyebrow at Roman’s sudden amusement but said nothing. The humour quickly faded, and Roman’s expression returned to its more guarded state.

As the conversation continued, there was a sudden long pause. The crackling of the wire grew louder, and for a moment, the car was drowned in absolute silence. Roman squinted at the speakers.

“You think the wire’s been cut?” Paul asked, looking between the speakers and Roman.

Tamina leaned forward, tense concern taking over her features. “Shit, maybe she took it off. Didn’t want us hearing the rest.”

“Nah,” Roman quickly shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. Not after what’s already been said.”

The silence dragged on. Roman’s fingers drummed against the dashboard, his patience thinning. But then, the Irish lilt cut through the quiet with a soft sigh.

“If you get stuck, truly stuck,” she began, “Contact me. I think I know someone who might be able to help you with… all that.”

Narrowing his brows, Roman’s attention was once again fully captured.

“No guarantees, though,” Becky added cautiously. “But there’s a possibility.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tamina huffed, holding her hands up in an open gesture, as if the answer would fall into her lap.

“Take care of yourself, Nate. And please… don’t end up like Dimitri.”

The static crackled again with the sound of rustling, movement, and muffled farewells.

“The hell was that?” Tamina asked.

“The hell do I know?” Roman bit back, just as frustrated and puzzled as his cousin.

“Not exactly the intel we were looking for, but… i-it could be useful,” Paul reasoned.

Tamina glanced between Roman and Paul. “You think she’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Roman took a deep breath, “But she doesn’t like talkin’ about it. It’s personal. And I need to know everything if I’m gonna trust her.”

“Sir,” Paul cleared his throat, “Ms Lynch didn’t seem deceitful.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that, Wise Man.” He turned his head to look at his special counsel. “But the less we know about Volkov’s situation, the more at risk we are at gettin’ fucked by it.”

Heyman paused, trying to hold back the smile on his face at Roman’s mindset. He’d seen this man grow up. Knew his family for decades. He always knew that he’d be a smart, head-strong leader, just following in the footsteps of those who came before him, and to have been even a tiny part of that… It was his greatest achievement. Roman was his greatest achievement.

The sound of one of the car doors opening startled the silence that had taken over the space, and Roman’s eyes snapped over to Nate sliding back in the car, her face set on neutral—as if she hadn’t just been through a conversation that had rattled her to the core.

Roman waited until she’d closed the door and the tension simmered. “How’d it go?” he asked calmly.

Her eyes only met his for a millisecond, before settling back out the window. “It went.”

“That’s all you got?” He raised an eyebrow.

Nate sighed, leaning back. “She gave me what she could. It’s not much, but it’s more than we had before.” Even though her confidence had been shaken by the unexpected topic brought up by Becky, it was still gnawing at her just how wrong she was about the whole thing. The Irish. It wasn’t them. She was so sure of it, too. So entirely set on her theory, which she saw as anything but.

And she was wrong.

“You don’t look too convinced,” Roman probed, shooting his cousin and Paul a glance.

Nate shrugged. “Becky’s out. It’s not her or her family.”

Her nonchalance grated against Roman’s patience like nails on a chalkboard. “And this other stuff you were talkin’ about with her?” 

“It’s personal,” she answered perhaps a little too quickly. Too insistent. The two word substitution for a much harsher two word command: shut up.

Roman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned back around, letting it go—for now. “Fine.”

But he’d get it out of her. One way or another.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The ride back to Roman’s house had been mostly quiet. Nate was lost in thought, processing everything that had just transpired with Becky. Roman, Paul, and Tamina sensed the shift in her mood—not like she was doing much to hide it, though.

As soon as the car stopped, Nate stepped out, honestly wanting to just get back home and go to sleep. This was supposed to be a quick meeting the day before, and it had turned into a twenty-four hour affair. It was time to head back—back to the life she’d been trying to balance alongside this chaos. She instantly moved toward the borrowed car she drove here, ready to leave, but unlike the others, Roman stayed outside.

He leaned casually against the side of the car, arms folded, watching Nate as she fished for the keys from her pocket. She stood with her back to the house, car behind her, mind anywhere else.

“So your contact was useless,” Roman said with a steady edge, as if he already knew which direction the conversation would go.

Nate glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. “She wasn’t useless.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Then you only heard what you wanted to hear. She knows someone that could help, does she not?”

The firmness in her tone halted further instigating by Roman. It wasn’t the first time she’d stood her ground with him, but this was a little more intense here. Sure, she felt she was losing control over her life. But this was the first time, in that life, that she felt she was losing control over an investigation. Such an unfamiliar feeling. Usually, her father was there, his plans guiding her actions. Usually, she’d be in control of what her role was. Now, she wasn’t sure what her role was, or if control even existed anymore.

Roman narrowed his eyes at her, reading the strain in her body, the square in her shoulders. “So what, you think this someone that Becky mentioned is gonna solve all of this?”

Nate huffed. “No. But it’s something. And right now, we don’t have a lot of ‘something,’ do we?” 

She wasn’t backing down, and he could sense it—the way he, too, was losing control. He was no longer steering things. Standing here, listening to Nate, something shifted, however. It wasn’t a power struggle, not anymore. The harsh reality hit him—she wasn’t Dimitri Volkov. Not cut from the same cloth. And part of her seemed almost relieved about that.

Roman saw it. She wasn’t just standing up to him; she was holding herself together, barely.

“Whoever she mentioned,” Nate began softly, “Might be worth having a look at.”

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, running his hand over his beard. He hated the idea of relying on people outside the Bloodline, of being forced to put an ounce of trust in someone he didn’t know. It was bad enough with Nate. “You’re sayin’ we should?”

“Well, it’s either that,” she jumped in bluntly, holding his gaze, “Or accept the fact we got fucked over and deal with knowing we didn’t try our hardest to get to the bottom of it.”

Roman stared at her, taking in the truth behind her words. He hated it, but she wasn’t wrong. They had been hit from all sides, and every lead had dried up before they could act. Nate was standing there, pushing him—yet there was something else in her expression. Something he hadn’t really seen in her before.

Defeat.

Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were dulled by it. Her stance, usually confident and controlled, seemed to sag ever so slightly. The misery etched in her features struck him harder than expected. Was this what he looked like earlier that morning? Did he look this… pathetic?

Nate broke the silence, her tone lighter but laced with finality. “Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

She took a step toward the car, her hand reaching for the door handle, but Roman continued.

“Ah, back to being the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée…” His voice was smoother, more teasing than he probably intended, and for the first time in their tumultuous back-and-forth, he wasn’t doing it to bait her. He didn’t even realise he was doing it at all.

She paused, turning her head toward him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself. “Perfect? You’re really pushing it, Reigns.”

“Well, isn’t that the story?” he chuckled. “Y’know… white dress, fairytale ending? Every ‘lil girl’s dream?”

Her smirk cracked into a proper smile. “Don’t tell me you’re that naive, Mr. Head of the Table. Besides, I highly doubt your version of a fairytale has anything in common with mine.”

Roman tilted his head, the charming grin of his slipping into place. “Maybe not. But who knows? Could surprise you, Volkov.”

Nate rolled her eyes but found herself stalling, her hand resting on the car’s handle without pulling it open. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, bol’shoy chelovek.”

She could see the bob of his Adam’s apple, rippling as he swallowed. It sent a little rush of excitement through her to see his unrestrained reaction to her Russian. She’d suspected his enjoyment before, but it was like he wasn’t even hiding it now. 

Opening the car door, she hesitated once more. Roman’s eyes were absolutely glued to her, and before she could get in and close the door completely, he leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a serious tone.

“Get in contact if you hear anything else,” he said. “We’ll figure out our next moves.”

Nate nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Will do.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, her movements slow, and Roman stepped back, watching as she settled behind the wheel. For a second, neither of them moved, neither willing to break the strange, new rhythm they’d found themselves in. Roman’s arms crossed over his chest as he gave her one final look, a more pliable glimmer behind his otherwise cold, empty eyes. 

Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Nate pulled the door shut. But when it came time to start the engine and actually pull away… she couldn’t do it. Held back by… something. Not exhaustion, no… It wasn’t even the idea of going back home to her father.

It was the fact that leaving here felt harder than it should have.

As she pulled away, she swore she heard him tell her to “drive safe.” Like he cares what happens… 

But Roman had seen it. The reluctance in her eyes, the same hesitation that had started to creep into his own thoughts. And instantaneously, he realised something else. Something he never thought would push itself to the forefront of his thoughts.

He didn’t like watching her leave, either.

[lunelkie]

"Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. But Your Dad Just Calls Me Katya." -Goncharov (1973) Dir. Martin Scorsese

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Reposting yesterday's fic because I accidentally published the first, highly unedited draft... it's Fine

Also, it's now on AO3!

Raine had been counting down to the Day of Unity all year, had burned the number of days and hours remaining into their mind, but somehow, it still felt like they should have had more time. Headquarters was in chaos, people calling out over each other, the air a mess of requests and worries. A blessed, momentary silence occurred when Katya dropped her tambourine— only for the panic to double as she realized it left her without an instrument.

“Can you play the bell cittern?” Raine asked. At her nod, they wove their way through the crowd to the back of the room where the beds lay, the only truly peaceful corner, where Eda was sitting with Luz.

“Eda, I was wondering if I could borrow— why do you have a box of toenails?”

Luz gave a muted laugh. “She was using it to hide this,” she said, holding up a log of blue wood.

“And the mystery of who depleted the Bonesborough Garden Club’s precious stash is answered,” Raine said, casting an amused glance at Eda. She winked, and they quickly turned their gaze back to Luz. “What are you going to carve?”

“I… don’t know. Eda taught me the basics, but…”

She was quiet for almost a minute before Raine realized she wasn’t going to finish the sentence.

“So,” Eda said finally, “what was it you needed?”

“Oh— I was wondering if Katya could borrow your bell cittern. Her tambourine was a… casualty of rushed preparations.”

“I’d love to say yes, but I don’t have it on me. I was so busy grabbing my fabulous toenails from the Emperor’s stash of all my stuff that I didn’t have time to look for anything else, and obviously I can’t just summon it anymore.”

Raine drew a circle in the air, and the bell cittern fell into their arms. It was Eda’s turn to look away.

“Right. I forgot that you still remember its magical signature.”

“Of course I do.”

I never forgot you, they wanted to say. I’m sorry for making you believe that I did. I’m so glad you never really believed it.

But the Day of Unity was in two days. There was no time for distractions or regret, only what needed to be done.

“Could you give it to Katya and make sure she knows what she’s doing?” they asked instead. “She’s a talented musician, but any bard worth their bile sack would still benefit from your expertise.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Eda’s lips. “You got it.” To Luz, she added, “Give me a shout if you need me, all right?”

The young human nodded, not looking up from her wood. Raine had a million other things to do, a million questions to answer, but for reasons they couldn’t quite explain, they found themself perching beside her, taking the spot Eda had vacated.

“You know, Eda taught me how to carve my palisman, too. Her dad taught her a few months before our class was supposed to learn, and she couldn’t resist passing on the forbidden knowledge.” They said the words in a low, dramatic tone, and were rewarded with a faint smile. “It still took me a while to figure out what I wanted, though.”

“That’s my problem, too,” she sighed. “Your palisman is supposed to represent your future, but for the last month, I haven’t been able to think about anything beyond the Day of Unity. I have no idea what my future is supposed to look like… or my palisman.”

“I get that,” Raine said, the words coming out a little more bitterly than they intended. To soften them, they added quickly, “but Eda told me that you both know about the portal the emperor has in the skull. As soon as we defeat him, we’ll take control of it. We’ll be able to get you home.”

Tears welled in Luz’s eyes, but they didn’t look grateful or hopeful. Just sad.

“Luz?”

She wiped her eyes. “I want to go home. I do. I miss my mom so bad, but… she made me promise, the last time I saw her, that when I went back, I would stay there for good.”

“What? But… you have a family here. It sounds like you two love each other a lot. Why would she want to take that from you?”

“That’s not how she sees it,” Luz said quickly. “It’s just… things are different in the Human Realm. You can’t do magic, or tell anyone about magic, and if you disappear or get injured by like… detention monsters or plants with fangs, that’s not normal. That’s not something you can explain.” She shrugged. “I want to be with my mom. I know she loves me, and I love living with her. But… that would also mean I couldn’t be a witch. There are no human witches.” She laughed quietly. “Besides the one who’s trying to kill everyone, I guess. What I’m trying to say is, the Demon Realm and the Human Realm… they’re what my teachers would call mutually exclusive. I have to choose.”

“That sounds a lot like Belos’s thinking, you know.”

Luz flinched, and Raine tried to make their next words as gentle as possible. “I’m not trying to compare you to him. I’m just saying, this whole business of needing to choose sounds a lot like what he’s been telling us all these years. That we can only take one path. That works for some people. But there are lots of people who can never fit into it, and they shouldn’t be ignored.”

Luz’s expression didn’t change, and they tried again.

“When I was born, I was given a set of words to identify me that didn’t feel right. For a while, I thought that meant I should go the opposite route, but that didn’t feel good either. What finally made me feel settled was choosing not to choose. To just exist, without any expectations or labels that would make people feel like they knew who I was before I got the chance to tell them.”

That made Luz let out a long breath, and something seemed to loosen in her when she looked up at them. “I get that,” she said quietly. “In the Human Realm, they have a lot of rules. A lot of people think you should stick with the identity you were born with. Follow the role they lay out for you. Love the people they want you to love. And like you said, that works for some people, but it never really worked for me. Getting to come here, getting to be away from that, it was nice, but… I never fully belonged here, either.”

“But you made your own way,” Raine told her. “Eda explained about your talent with glyphs. You found your own magic. I’d bet the Human Realm could use some of that, too.” “Glyphs don’t work in the Human Realm.”

“They wouldn’t work without you either. You are the magic I was talking about, Luz. You’ve done so many impossible things during your time here. What’s one more?”

Finally, she gave them a real smile. “You know, I think you’re the first person I’ve met here who’s just as sappy as me.”

They winked. “I can tell we’re going to be good friends. But only if you come visit from time to time.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Luz released a shaky breath and turned back to the wood in her hands. “Could you… show me how to round the top? Eda went over it, but I want to make sure I get it right.”

“Of course. Round, huh? Are you carving a chicken?”

Luz laughed. “You know, that’s sort of close. I’m going to cave an egg.”

“An egg?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know what I want my future to look like… or theirs. But I want us both to be able to choose.” She waved a hand at the maps on the tables and the banners on the walls, at the assembled revolution. “That’s what this is all about, right?”

A sigh of their own escaped Raine, the words snapping a tension they’d carried for so long they’d almost forgotten it was there. “Right.”

Years of subversion and sacrifice had led up to this. Raine had lost things, people, and parts of themself that they could never get back, all in the hopes of winning a single battle. And now that that battle was finally approaching, they worried they’d done too much, or not enough, that they wouldn’t win, or that winning wouldn’t be worth the cost. But beyond all those regrets, all those fears, was the simple truth that in two days’ time, the people of the Isles would be able to choose a future for the first time in half a century. It was enough. It had to be.

Raine placed their hand over Luz’s, guiding her knife to the top of the log. “Shave the wood away from you,” they instructed, “until you get a gentle sort of slope.”

Luz clenched the wood and the knife so hard that her knuckles turned white, but she made the first cut. “Like this?”

It was wobbly, uneven, less a the start of a smooth egg and more the top of a swirling orb. It wasn’t the way Raine would have done it.

“That’s perfect.”

[roxy206]

📷 cephista | Instagram post | hat tip Daily T & K

[cxndycl0wn]

[iphisesque]

yekaterina... petrovna.... zamolodchikova..... but your dad... just calls me.... KATYA

[peachfuzz-nygma]

yekaterina petrovna zamolodchikova

but your dad just calls me katya ✨️

VITTU KUSEN

[krasivaa]

This account is spamming me. She is posting many posts about me trying to be funny. @abigaaal also told her my age which I only told a few people. She (@abigaaal) also showed her friends (one she met irl and @kaiserrreich) my photo.

Talking about Katya, I didn't bully her. I was so kind to her for months and she lied to me multiple times about her name and where she lives. Like gurl just say: "I don't like you." and leave. Now her (Katya) is going around and telling people horrible things about me.

@abigaaal also was saying bad things about @foreverinthepagesofhistory. I didn't bully her either. I was brave (unlike @abigaaal) to come out and talk with her about that we felt bad about her not wishing @abigaaal happy birthday and not answering our messages even if she was active. then she started insulting me and saying awful things about me. after that, @abigaaal put pressure on me to send her @foreverinthepagesofhistory's photo. and I have just to tell @foreverinthepagesofhistory: LOOK, I KEPT UR FUCKING PRIVACY, even when we were in fight. @abigaaal is gossiping about you everywhere, and you are blind to see that. gurl she literally called you mean & rude bitch. congrasts you're defender of bully now.

@kaiserrreich is also bringing historical figure (Tatiana Nikolaevna) and also attacks her for no reason. Even if Tatiana is a Saint and innocent dead child.

oh yes, @kaiserrreich I don't care where your racist ass lives or how old are you, you're behaving like my 3 yo cousin when she can't get ice cream. that's literally mood.

y'all acting so fucking childish. it's good I have more screenshots.

only God can save you ☦️

P.S. @abigaaal please send screens where I am insulting you because of ur dad. Oh righ, they don't exist 😘