#every time I hear this song i just think of her

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty

authors note: had some unexpected difficulty with this one. hopefully, the enjoyable parts, are, in fact, enjoyable.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and drama

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 11k

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Solana sighs, watching the water run over her hand and the makeup sponge in the palm of said hand expand with the cascade of water that drenches it. Using her wrist to shut off the water, she starts squeezing the excess.

The distraction of applying her makeup is appreciated as it deprives and prevents her from gawking at her naked husband showering behind her. 

Solana volunteered to shower first, hence her being further along in her routine. With sexual activity off the list due to her pelvic rest restrictions, separate showers have been their go-to for the past week. At least until she’s cleared.

Something that Solana finds herself looking more and more forward to with each day that passes, because whether it be pregnancy hormones or her burning attraction to her husband, the lack of physical intimacy between them is……noticeable.

Clearing her throat, and her mind, she finally answers him. “Yes, Ro. I’m sure.” She’s only said as such at least three times now, but that’s besides the point. “I told you. I want it to be a surprise.”

Roman’s sigh is heard under the sound of running water as he moves the loofah over his shoulders. “It’s a tattoo, Solana. Don’t know how much of a surprise that sort of thing should be.”

He’s not wrong, necessarily. But, he also doesn’t know the full context, and he can’t, because it’s part of the surprise of it all. 

“We stick to the plan, Roman.” Solana uses the towel on the counter to blot dry the sponge, just for good measure, before reaching for her foundation. “You drop me off, go to your therapy session, go to Fetu’s place to get the letters, see Ava, I go see Bayley, and then we meet back up at the house later this evening.”

Simple, sweet, and easy. 

If only her husband felt the same way. 

“I told you I don’t need to go this week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you do, Ro. You didn’t go last week.”

Solana can practically feel his gaze on her through the glass doors. “Last week was a shit show, Solana. I wasn’t trying to be anywhere but with you.”

It puts a small smile on her face. Even when he’s being his usual almost harsh self, there’s still a speck of sweetness usually reserved just for her. 

“That’s even more reason to go, baby.” Especially since he made sure she didn’t miss her weekly appointment with Gail, which brings her to her next point. “I think you should go weekly like I do.”

“Weekly?” The perfect combination of horror and surprise in his voice makes her roll her eyes. Her husband can be so dramatic sometimes. “Solana, that shit is already…..uncomfortable enough, and now you want me to do it every week?”

Waiting until she’s done applying her foundation, she explains, glancing at him through the mirror. “It helps you to get to the point where you start opening up more, Roman.”

At least, that’s been Solana’s experience. Satisfied with the coverage, she hears the water shut off and moves to grab her concealer, unwilling to view the sinful sight of her husband’s nude body stepping out the shower before he can towel himself. 

“I don’t even know if she has that availability, Sol.”

And just like that, the focus is no longer on avoidance of temptation nor the blending of concealer. It’s on a single word. Solana turns around, uncaring of his nudity. “S–she?” Roman glances at her, grabbing the towel off the rack. “Your…..your therapist is….a woman?”

Roman secures the towel around his waist with a knot, as she turns back to the mirror, trying to settle herself. “Yeah.” He then asks, looking at her through that same mirror. “Is that a problem?’

“No, no. Of—of course not. I just. I—I didn’t know. That’s…..that’s all.” Solana’s answer is a concoction of stumbled words that make sense but don’t mesh well. Roman moves to stand beside her grabbing for his deodorant when he’s hit with another question. “Is—is she pretty?”

Applying said deodorant, he clarifies, “the therapist?”

“Yeah.”

Roman chuckles, finishing his application to both underarms. “I guess. Wasn’t looking at her like that. She’s not my type.”

He has to bite back a smile at the way Solana’s eyes widen when she looks at him through the mirror. “You—you have a type?”

He knows exactly what's going on now, and he also knows exactly how to handle it.

Fully immersed and dedicated to setting her up for his ‘trap,’ Roman nods. “Of course, I do.”

A part of him feels a modicum of guilt at her worried expression, even if he can tell she’s trying her best to play it up as indifference. “Wh—wh—what’s your type?”

He doesn’t say anything, just slowly moves to stand behind her, uncaring of the droplets of water that stream down his chest from his wet hair. 

“Well…….” Roman maneuvers his hands down to her legs. “I like thick thighs….” His fingers dance up to the meat of her deliciously thick thighs. “Curvy hips…..” His focus never leave her, watching every tiny, shaky breath that leaves her mouth and the way her eyes flutter from his touch. “A nice ass….” Solana’s head tilts back against his chest when he grabs and squeezes her ass cheeks before lifting his hands to her chest. “Big ass, perfect titties that fit perfectly in my hands….” Satisfaction fills him seeing how she sighs with pleasure from him gently squeezing her breast. His mouth drops to her ear, breathing with a sly smile, “and they look even better when she’s riding me.” 

“Roman,” she giggles, a blush filling her cheeks. He's partially taken back by her cheeky play into his game. “Pregnant?”

“Of course.” His hand is splayed protectively across her stomach, lips to her temple. “Mine...”

Their gazes locked through the mirror, she breathes, “yours…”

He lifts his hand, tilting her chin, craning down to capture a slow, sensual kiss. Eventually breaking it, recognizing they have to stop themselves, he reminds, “I only see you, Sol….alright?”

She nods, a soft smile on her pretty face. Content with settling her insecurities, he taps her ass and continues getting ready, acquiescing to her request. “I’ll talk with her about weekly meetings.”

“Thank you.” Her appreciation and the relief in her expression overpowers his discomfort of having to do that feelings shit once a week, but if it’ll make her happy, he’ll deal.

Because that’s all he wants.

Is to make her happy.

“I’ve been thinking….” Roman is in the midst of moisturizing his body when her quiet voice breaks their brief silence. “Remember how you told me to think about, ya know, going back to school?”

He nods. “Yes.”

She hesitates, obviously trying to find the right words. “I think….I think I want to try.” She clarifies, taking a deep breath. “I want…I want to be an RN.” Roman takes a step back, a growing proud look on his face as she continues to explain. “And, I know it probably sounds crazy, because I’m pregnant with twins, and we’re going to be parents, but I just….” she pauses, Roman detecting the emotion building. “He took so much from me. They all did, and I want it back.”

He’s not entirely certain, but he’d take a good guess that the all she’s referring to is her mother, Xavier, and Wes. Roman is unsure what to make of the sudden, potentially temporary shift Solana has made regarding her mother. Once a saint, now grouped with her abusers. It’s not his place, however, to dictate how she feels about that, because her being upset is more than valid.

Regardless of him not wanting to think about if he’d ever even met or be with his wife if she wasn’t “raised” by Xavier, the hell she went through was undeserved.

And, it didn’t need to happen. But, it did, largely because of her mother.

Her mother’s selfishness.

Solana continues to explain, almost rushed and nervous. “I wanna go for a bachelors in nursing. I could go the associates route, which would only take two years instead of four, but a bachelors in nursing is more preferred when it comes to hiring, and—”

“Solana,” he interrupts, moving back by her, gently cupping her face. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support and help or make happen. That’s it. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Her voice is quiet and unsure. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.” It’s an easy answer that doesn’t call for any thinking. Just a natural, obvious thing. “My only concern would be you stretching yourself too thin.”

“I thought about that,” she confesses. “Having the girls and being in school at the same time will be a lot, but….it’s what I want. I—I have to at least try.”

And, he understands that. Understands why this is important to her. Why she needs to do this. Another thing for herself. Another way to reclaim her life.

“Okay, then you’ll do it.” Curious, he asks, “are you think of starting this upcoming spring?”

She shakes her head, holding onto his waist. “No. That’s too soon. Maybe fall of next year. The girls will be a couple months old versus me being halfway through this pregnancy.” Her eyes light up, lips curving into a smile. “You know they’re due in May, right?” No, he didn’t know. Obviously, her being two months would put her due date in May, but it’s not necessarily something he thought about from this perspective. “That means you all will share a birthday month.”

Fuck.

It will.

Another thing he didn’t think of.

And something he doesn’t know how to feel about.

“That means every year when we celebrate their birthday—”

“Solana—”

“—we’re celebrating yours.”

“I don’t—”

“This isn’t up for debate, Ro.” Her counter effectively silences him, the assertiveness both surprising and sexy as fuck. “This is our family, and we’re going to do it the right way.” She hugs him, pressing herself against his now almost completely dry chest. “Think about it. You’re their daddy. They’ll probably love sharing a birthday month with you.”

Daddy

Roman doesn’t know how to feel or respond to that, to any of it outside of objection. He’s already made his thoughts and feelings about his birthday clear to his wife, and while a part of him dislikes that she’s not exactly respecting his wishes, he knows why, too. And, he can’t fault her.

It’s the same way he works to help her pull away from the grips of her trauma.

“We’ve gotta pick out which room should be their nursery, too.”

Another statement that makes sense but is also something he’s unsure of how to feel about. “Hmm?”

Solana looks up, explaining, “they should probably be in a room close to ours, ya know?” No, he doesn’t know. “And, I want to paint their rooms, but—”

“You can’t be around that shit while pregnant, Solana.” Because that much he knows. Safety. Everything else is…..questionable.

Her expression is a mixture of agreement and disappointment. “I know. Maybe after they’re born, I can do the painting and we can just wait a month or two before we……are you alright?” Solana’s shift in tone as well as her question pull Roman from the distancing he didn’t even realize was happening until she said something.

“Yes.” A bit of an automatic answer, one she clearly sees through.

“Ro….”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Just have a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

He’s partially expecting her to push, albeit gently, for him to open up and talk with her. She goes for a different, unexpected route, however. “Roman, are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Asking what she’s referring to is unnecessary. He already knows. “No. I’ll be fine. Ava’s going to be there, too.” Not that he necessarily needs anyone with him, but seeing his cousin might be nice. They haven’t really spoken since their aunt’s funeral. An understandable and necessary space for both to grieve as they so chose.

“I know.” She nods, hands lifting to his shoulders, moving up and down. A soothing gesture. “I just don’t want you to feel alone in this….”

“I’m not,” he reassures, adding almost quietly. "You've made sure of that.”

Because she has. Because as he’s told her before, there’s no way he could have handled all of this without her. No way in hell. Not in a way that was remotely good, or even healthy, at least. 

“Besides.” Roman moves his hands to her hips, thumbs moving against the fabric of her robe. “You have your own things to take care of.” Things is one way to put it, Roman flipping the question onto her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Her smile is soft and also reassuring. She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine, too. I’m not really nervous about telling Bayley. It’s…..it’s everyone else.”

And the telling she speaks of would be telling Bayley that they’re not just friends. They’re family. Cousins.

It’s a decision she came to after sitting down and speaking freely with him about how she wants to handle this, ultimately deciding it best to go about it in small doses. Start with Bayley. Then tackle and figure things out from there. He looks down, studying her, “you don’t think they’ll respond well?”

There’s a delayed response. “I don’t know if they’ll accept me.”

And he gets it. Gets her. Knows that feeling all too well.

“They will, Solana,” he comforts. “The way they showed up for your party, how….nice they were to you. I can’t see them not accepting you.” And, it’s the truth, just like it’s the truth that there will be hell to pay if any of those fuckers even try to reject his wife.

Fucking hell. 

—--------

There’s a part of Solana that wishes Roman was there with her. That wants him beside her as she gets her very first set of tattoos, but it’s the mere fact that it’s a set and not one, as he thinks, that is why he can't be there.

Not to mention one of the tattoos, what it is, is a surprise. A surprise just and for him. One she won’t let her anxiety ruin for her.

Especially considering she’s not alone. 

Far from it.

“I should get a tramp stamp while we’re here.”

Mickie’s voice is a welcomed break from some of the growing anxiety stirring within Solana. 

Turning to the woman behind the exclamation, setting her focus and gaze on the other two, Cam and Melina, also helps to settle Solana. It’s been a while since they’ve gathered, since they’ve been around each other, really.

Because life has just been so hectic and chaotic. Great, too. But, a lot of other things sprinkled along the way as well. And while it’s a bit difficult to not be honest with them, even about the pregnancy, Solana is grateful to be surrounded by good friends as well.

“Shut up, Mickie,” Melina dismisses, angling her body more towards Solana as they all wait in the lobby of the tattooist, Roman’s, who will be doing their tattoos today. “So, are you gonna finally tell us what’s been going on with you?”

Cam nods. “We’ve been worried.”

Solana frowns. She knows, and she feels bad for it. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been MIA. It’s just….” She takes a deep breath. “Roman and I…..we hit a bit of a rough patch, and we’ve been trying to work through it.”

It’s a sort of lie, and a bit of the truth, namely highlighting the argument that occurred before her medical emergency. Lies and secrets that built up into an ugly climax, even if it did end up strengthening them in the long run. Still, it certainly wasn’t enjoyable in the moment.

Melina frowns. “I figured it had something to do with your marriage.”

“Did you try sitting on his face?”

“Mickie!” Cam scolds, rubbing her temples. “Sex does not fix everything.”

Mickie shrugs, defending herself and her typical antics. “It might!”

“Ignore her. We question if she’s been taking her meds as prescribed."

“Optional,” Mickie disregards. Solana makes a mental note to circle back around to that. Medication adherence is critical for the sustainability of their recovery. 

“We’re sorry,” Cam apologizes. Probably both for Mickie and also what she just shared. “Is there….is there anything we can do to help?”

No. Because there really isn’t an “issue” anymore. Sure, Solana and Roman still have things to sort and work through, but it’s nothing they can’t tackle together. “No. We’re gonna….we’re gonna get it together.”

Because they will. 

They’re already in the process of doing so.

“Well, while you guys are doing that, please don’t cut us off. Like I said, we’ve been worried about you,” Melina asks. A fair request.

Cam nods. “She’s right. Even if it’s just like….a text or emoji. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And Solana appreciates that. So deeply. More than they could ever know.

“I will,” she promises. “And, I was actually hoping if maybe we can see about rescheduling that girls trip?”

Surprised looks all around, Melina being the one to double check, “seriously? Even with….whatever you have going on with Roman?”

There’s a bit of guilt at making them think the situation is more than what it is, that it’s even still going on, really, but for the sake of privacy regarding the pregnancy, it’s a must.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Solana assures, “I’ll talk to him.”

Truth be told, Solana is unsure how said conversation would go. She knows that being pregnant has definitely caused Roman to tighten his grip—and her security—her gaze briefly falling to Bautista who stands by the door, surveying the perimeter. And, she understands it. She just hopes that he can understand why she still wants to do this. Feels a need to almost do it. Because once the girls are here, that’s it. They’ll definitely be limited to their ability to just and do things, so before that availability is greatly minimized, Solana wants to take advantage of this time.

And going on a girls trip with her closest friends seems like the perfect way to do so.

Mickie snorts. “You sure that overprotective man of yours won’t try to tag along?”

Melina rolls her eyes. “Like he wants to be around us.”

“But, he always wants to be around her,” Cam comments with a sly smile. “I could see him making that sacrifice.”

It’s hard for Solana to hold back her smile, a blush forming on her cheeks. “If he did come, he’d probably stay somewhere else.”

Because Solana can definitely see him wanting to tag along. Just not staying under the same roof as herself and her friends.

That seems too much forced socialization for him.

“I’ll just talk to him and see what he says,” she decides. “I really don’t think he’d say no.”

Emphasis on think.

Because again, Roman’s protectiveness since finding out about the pregnancy has definitely been kicked up a few notches. Or more.

“Well, just let us know so I can repack my suitcase,” Mickie bounces from side to side, gasping. “Wait, so we saw the design you made for our tattoos, but what’s the other one you’re getting?” 

The smile on Solana’s face could be seen from the stars. Grabbing her sketchbook from the seat beside her, she starts flipping through, seeking the one she’s excited most about.

“Let me show you...”

—---------

“You’re quiet today.”

“I was quiet last time.”

“Ehh. Debatable.”

Roman’s infamous glare is on the woman who’s lazily shuffling the abnormally large Uno cards. But, before he can follow up with a smartass comment, she hits him with an unexpected question. “What’s your earliest memory?”

The glare deepens. “What?”

Rolling her eyes, she asks again, enunciating each word. “What is your earliest memory?”

“Why is that relevan—”

“Last I checked, mental health is my specialty. I don’t tell you how to do your mafia shit, do I?” A pointed, fair question. He’ll give her that. “Now again—”

“Fine,” Roman relents, more eager to shut her up than anything. Leaning back into the sofa, he takes a minute, having to dig through a ton of shit to recover said memory. “I was young. Maybe 5 or 6. I don’t know, but I’d fallen or tripped or some shit, scraped up my knee, so I’d asked my….my mother to help me up. She said no. My dad just looked at me annoyed and walked off. They both did.”

Lita leans back in her chair as well, pausing the shuffling to ask him, “what do you make of that?”

Roman shrugs, looking away, intentionally not wanting to meet her studying stare. “Make of what?”

“Your earliest memory is that of sadness. Of not being supported and helped by the two people in your life who should have done just that.”

His response is carefully but truthfully worded. “I don’t make anything of it, because that’s just how it’s always been. I’ve always had to take care of myself.”

Because he has. Because as wonderful as Fetu was, she wasn’t always around. That just wasn't physically possible. As much as she could, sure, but there were most definitely plenty of moments where she wasn’t. Where she wasn’t there to help and support him when maybe he needed it, because she couldn’t be everything all the time. 

That’s what his parents should have been for him.

But, they weren't.

“You still feel that way?” Another unexpected question. “Like you have to take care of yourself?”

And here comes one of the many dilemmas with this therapy shit. The point is to share. He doesn’t want to share, more than that, Roman can never show his hand regarding the absolute hold Solana has on him. The depth of his love and devotion to and for her. 

It’s….dangerous, to say the least.

But, she’s also the first and only person to pop in his head at Lita’s latest probe.

Finally, he settles on a very Roman answer. “Comes with the job.”

Her smile is knowing. “Nice deflection.” A pause. “What about your wife?”

Naturally, his shoulders tense up. She’s never asked about Solana before. “What about her?”

Lita makes a face. “What’s that like? The whole arranged marriage thing.”

And just like that, his irritation is mounting. He’s here to work on him. “This shit isn’t about her.”

“Defensive.” Lita’s eyes narrow, but it’s nothing negative. More….assessing. “You’re protective of her.”

Roman finds it easy to justify his said defensiveness without giving the real reason away. “She’s my wife. It’s my job to protect her.”

Lita’s countenance is calm and inquisitive, as she asks most unexpectedly. “And who protected you?”

Silence.

“What?”

She shrugs, laying out the facts. “You protect everyone else. The Bloodline. The Cosa Nostra. Your wife. Yourself as a child. Who protected you?”

Roman can’t deny there’s a bit of a waver in his tone and expression. “I didn’t need to be protected.”

“Yes, you did,” is her calm, leveled counter. “Roman, children need to be protected. It’s the natural hierarchy of things. Young, innocent, and green, you’re not supposed to know how to navigate the world. It’s something we learn over time as we grow, but it’s as we’re growing and learning that we’re supposed to be protected when we can’t do it for ourselves. It’s what gives us that feeling of safety and security and trust, all things we should have from a very young age.” Her voice and expression soften. “You clearly didn’t have that. You didn’t get to have that, which is why you obviously struggle with it so much as an adult.”

There’s a good almost two minutes of silence as Roman is forced to sit on and allow her insight, correct and accurate, to marinate, stirring up an abundance of uncomfortable, unfamiliar emotions. 

“I’m gonna tell you something, but I swear on fucking everything, you repeat this shit to anyone, and I’ll kill you, your husband, and your three kids.” A scarily calm prelude to a confession he’s not sure just why he’s about to make. 

Regardless, he watches a brief flash of fear travel across her face before she replies just as calmly, “you have my word. Not a soul.”

Having her word doesn’t really do much for Roman. People lie on and about that shit all the time, hence him needing to make it clear what she stands to lose should she make the deadly mistake of fucking him over or betraying him. Because as much as she thinks she knows about him, he knows a hell of a lot more about her.

Leverage.

“Solana is pregnant.” A quiet, low admission followed by difficult words and a layer of vulnerability. “And, I don’t…..I don’t know how to feel about that.”

A horrible, awful thing to say aloud, especially considering the huge scare they had not even two weeks ago, but an accurate, truthful thing, nonetheless. Because in the midst of that crisis, yes, Roman was concerned about a grim outcome. Concerned what that would do to his wife, concerned about him potentially contributing in some way to said outcome. Concerned for losses of lives not even yet lived, but it’s out of that crisis, out of that danger zone, that the reality is setting in.

Partially fueled by his wife’s words this morning.

Daddy.

Father.

Parents. 

He doesn’t know shit about any of that, nor does he feel any way in particular about it.

“How do you think you should feel?” Lita asks, head tilted. 

“I don’t fucking know,” he mutters, running his hand down his face, shrugging. “What Solana’s feeling.”

“Do you experience emotions the way she does?”

An easy answer. “Hell no.”

“So not necessarily a fair comparison then, is it?” Rhetorical. And followed up with a sigh. “It’s different for women, sometimes. She’s carrying and will grow the child, thus forming a bond before the baby even arrives. You could even argue that it’ll be a bit easier for her. Regardless, whatever you feel or don’t feel is valid, Roman.”

More silence.

And vulnerability. 

“I can’t be like them,” a quiet, almost heartfelt admission. “I can’t….I can’t be like my parents.” He looks away, knee shaking and foot tapping. “They fucked me up. I can’t….I can’t fuck up my own kids.”

Lita leans forward. “You are not fucked up, Roman. Do you do fucked up things? Sure. Maybe. We all do from time to time, and let’s be honest, it’s not like you were given a fair shot. The deck was already stacked against you before you were even fucking born.” She shakes her head. “Now am I saying you’re perfectly fine and don’t need to work on anything? Hell no. It might take years to help you process the shitstorm that’s been your life, but if you’re willing to put in the work, I’m willing to walk beside you the entire way through.”

He doesn’t say anything, partially overwhelmed by all of this. This therapy shit just might be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

Albeit clearly needed.

“And for what it’s worth, whether you believe me or not, I think you’re gonna make a great dad.” She shrugs again, leaning back in her chair, a small smirk on her face. “Ya know, when you’re not being an asshole.”

The latter comment is appreciated, a break from all of the heaviness of this conversation. Lita clears her throat and goes back to shuffling, asking casually. 

“Now, are we stacking today or not?”

Roman looks at her, aware of the double meaning. Pushing against preference and comfort, recognizing the importance of this, of all of this, he answers.

“Stacking.”

—---------

It’s been some time since Solana has felt this nervous. The apprehension coursing through her is about what and what when she realized she’d accidentally left Fetus’ letter and her sonogram photo in the bathroom back at the house. Ironically enough, an event that transpired and caused her to run out on the woman sitting directly across from her.

Bayley

They’re in her salon, just the two of them, sans Solana’s security who stand by the door and outside the building, surveying and monitoring.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, one that has her tapping her foot against the metal footrest of the salon chair.

And, it’s a silence that Bayley is ultimately the one to break.

“Look, Solana,” she starts off, sighing heavily. “It’s obvious something is going on with you, and I don’t want to push, but you asked to meet me, alone, and here, so I’m really hoping you can give me something.”

And she will. Solana is ready, albeit nervous, to give her more than something.

“I—I was suicidal on my wedding day.” An unexpected, shocking admission that has Bayley’s eyes widening. Solana’s head drops as she revisits that painful day. “I—I was so low. Felt so sad and confused and scared and just….empty, but I still—” Her voice cracks. “I still remember when you asked me how I wanted my makeup, and it was the first time in a long time that anyone asked me what I wanted. Gave me some autonomy in my life. You did that for me, and I will never forget it. I will never, as long as I live, forget what you did for me that day.”

A small act of kindness that truly made a difference.

Maybe even saved her life.

Bayley’s eyes are misting. “Solana….”

Sniffling, Solana grabs her sketchbook and pulls out the letter. “I have…I have been distant. I know. But, it’s not because you did anything. All you’ve ever done is support and love me when I needed it the most, and I’m so grateful. I….” Shaking hands reach over the stack of papers. “I only hope that can continue after you find out the truth.”

Bayley frowns, accepting the papers. “The truth?”

Solana nods and wipes at her eyes. “I found that letter when sorting through my journals. It’s from….from my mother.” At that, Bayley looks almost guilty.

She shakes her head, trying to hand the stack back to her. “Solana, I shouldn’t be reading this then. It’s personal.”

Calmly, Solana objects, placing a hand over Bayley’s. “Please. I….I want you to. No, I—I need you to.”

There’s still indecision, but it’s followed by a reluctant nod as Bayley’s focus shifts to the letter. 

Solana has to look away, has to focus on the beauty of Bayley’s salon. It’s been some time since she was here, but the calm, serene atmosphere hasn’t changed. It’s welcomed and needed to help soothe Solana as she waits for Bayley to learn the truth that Solana herself hasn’t quite fully processed. 

She’s starting to though, trying to gradually put the pieces together. 

Starting with Bayley.

A few minutes pass followed by a breathy, “oh my God….” Solana finally turns her gaze back on the other woman who lifts her head. “You’re….you’re my cousin?”

Solana chuckles. Knowing it is one thing. Hearing Bayley say it, acknowledge it, is something entirely different. 

“Apparently so,” Solana manages to answer with a watery chuckle. “I—”

“Your mom….was Aunt Alma?” It’s less being posed to Solana and more just a general statement bred from shock. “Holy shit, I don’t know how—this is a lot.”

“I know.” No one knows that more than Solana. “And….and I understand if you need time and/or space from me, I just—”

“Solana.” Bayley places the papers down on the counter and moves out of her chair, walking over and gently holding her hands. “Why the hell would I want or even need space from you?” She shakes her head, a genuinely warm, amenable smile on her face. “You’re mi familia, prima.”

That’s what makes her break, that shatters the damn holding up the waterworks. Solana pulls Bayley into a tight hug, both women a mixture of all the feels, tears streaming down their faces.

It’s a sustained hug that only ends as Bayley pulls back to chuckle, stating, “I can’t believe we’re really family.” It’s such a proud, happy exclamation. “We—we have to tell everyone. My dad…..Aunt Paloma.” Her eyes widen ever so slightly, as she also puts two and two together. “Wait, that makes her your—”

“My grandmother,” Solana finishes in a small voice. “I—I want to tell her too, but I—I don’t feel ready.”

“Of course.” Bayley nods, apologizing and offering. “I'm sorry. Whenever you’re ready. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to handle this on your own.”

More appreciation. An abundance. “Thank you, Bayley. I–I want to tell your parents at least, but I’m….I’m nervous.”

Bayley frowns, asking, “why?”

Her head drops, insecurity rising, “I don’t…..I don’t know how they’ll take it. If….if they’ll believe it. Believe me.”

Because as Bayley said, this is a lot to take in. A lot to process. 

A lot to believe.

“Solana, when I tell you that my parents, my family, our family, already loves you, I mean that shit. They love you, and to find out that you’re….that you’re Aunt Alma’s daughter?” Her eyes start watering all over again. “You have no idea how much closure you’re going to give so many people. How happy they’re going to be. I promise you, not only will they believe you, they’re going to love you even more than they already do. I sure as hell know I do.”

Solana’s smile deepens as Bayley wipes at her tears. “How about this? We’re having a get-together at the restaurant this Friday. Come a little early. We can tell them together, yeah?” Solana finds herself nodding, not even really needing to think about it, feeling an immense amount of comfort and appreciation.

And love.

“I—I think I’d like that.” Because having Bayley beside her will truly make a difference and help alleviate some of her anxiety. Will be a tremendous source of support and relief.

“Me too,” Bayley agrees, blotting at her eyes. “Got me crying and shit. You know I hate tears.” The two ladies share a laugh as Bayley gestures to Solana’s clavicle. “New tattoo. New family members. And a new hairstyle? You really are spreading your wings, Solana.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Bayley clears her throat and takes a step back, moving behind Solana and playfully lifting her hair, asking, “so….” She leans down, hugging her cousin. “What are we doing today, prima?”

—---------------

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Roman’s gaze falls over to his cousin as she brings the beer to her lips, eyes focused on the forest before them.

Choosing to have therapy and returning to Fetu’s place to retrieve the trunk with her letters probably shouldn’t have been done on the same day, but it was a decision already made, nonetheless.

Not to mention seeing and speaking to Ava for the first time in a couple weeks is helpful in a way he didn’t expect. Even if it’s mostly just them sitting in silence while sharing a pack of beer.

He’s quiet at first, eventually agreeing. “I know.”

Ava takes another sip before smiling bitterly. “Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw us right now?”

A small smile falls on Roman’s face. “Probably cussing us out for being all soft.”

Ava laughs. “Yup.”

Because that was his aunt. She could be equally brutal as she was supportive. But, it was always with love. She led and lived her life with love.

Her own kind of love.

Ava looks over at Roman, “how you been holding up?”

An honest, fair question he’s not sure he wants to answer, but he does so regardless.

“Well enough.” It also feels like an honest, fair answer, because he truly feels out of that initial haze of guilt and grief that paralyzed him in the immediate days of Fetu’s passing. It still hurts. It’ll always hurt, but having Solana, her support, her love, has truly made a difference. “You?”

Ava’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes as she playfully nudges him. “Well enough.”

Roman shakes his head, looking away again, muttering, “she’d probably be happy we’re not trying to kill each other, at least.”

It’s not missed upon him how Ava doesn’t say anything. Not first, at least.

“Don’t speak too soon.”

Roman’s suspicious gaze falls back on her only to refocus on the sound of a running vehicle, his defenses rising and grip on the beer tightening as an SUV pulls up and into the driveway right behind his own car.

He turns to his cousin, question accusatory. “What the fuck, Ava?”

Roman places the beer down on the steps and stands up, Ava following suit as the truck comes to a stop.

He asks again, just in a different way. “What did you do?”

She lifts her chin, asserting, “we need to make this right.”

He’s understandably confused until he sees the driver and passenger doors open, two familiar faces stepping out.

Roman curses and looks away.

“Uce.” Jimmy’s solemn voice travels as he and Jey make their way towards the steps leading into the house. “We need to talk.”

“Like hell we do,” Roman dismisses. Looking back towards his cousins, his focus is on Jey.

And Jey’s focus is right back on him. 

Ava rolls her eyes. “Roman, you know Fetu wouldn’t want—”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he snaps, unapologetic. She really shouldn’t have. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Aye,” Jimmy cuts in. “She’s family too, Roman.”

“My issue isn’t with her though,” is his immediate, sharp response. “It’s not even with you.”

“It’s me, right?” Jey finally speak, an edge and irritation to his voice. “Go on and say it. You think I was wrong for defending my pops?”

And Roman, true to Roman, doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind. “I think you’re a fucking idiot for defending someone who was clearly in the wrong.”

“Roman!” Ava scolds, grabbing his arm. “This isn’t the way to go about this.”

“Who the fuck you calling an idiot, Uce?” Jey snaps, Jimmy having to move over to his brother to restrain him. “I’m not gon’ keep letting you fucking talk to me any ole’ kind of way. This shit gon stop today.”

Roman jerks his arm from Ava’s grasp, walking down a step. “And what the fuck are you gon do, huh? You gon’ challenge me again? You know how that turns out every fucking time, Jey.”

“Would you both just calm the hell down?” Jimmy pleads, clearly exasperated. “Ya’ll both are such damn hotheads that you can’t see past your anger.” He shakes his head. “We’re better than this. We’re brothers.”

There’s something about that brothers word that triggers Roman.

Perhaps it’s the digging into his childhood in therapy earlier today or continued grief, but something about Jimmy using that word ticks him off.

Jimmy and Jey are brothers.

Jimmy, Jey, and Solo are brothers. 

Jimmy, Jey, Solo, and the rest of Rikishi’s sons are brothers. 

And that family bond/dynamic is something that can’t be mimicked or duplicated. They've been close, yes. Friends, yes. But brothers? Like them? Sure. But, actual brothers is something Roman has never really experienced since his family was killed that night.

It’s a dynamic he noticed when he lived in the Uso household following the murder of his family. Until he was twelve and Rikishi put him out, forcing him to live on his own.

Where were his brothers then?

And deep down, Roman knows Jimmy and Jey aren’t to blame for their dad’s actions, knows that they were kids too at the time. The same age as him. They were innocent.

But, they’re not kids anymore. They’re grown ass men who should be able to distinguish right from wrong. Something Roman can acknowledge Jimmy is doing. 

He can’t say the same for Jey.

Jey scoffs, shaking his head, anger rising. “Naw. This exactly who he is. Who he always been. He’s always thought he was better than us! That he the best!”

“I am the best!” Roman snaps, unable to keep his own unmanaged emotions from creeping into this intervention turned argument. “That’s all I know! That’s all I’ve ever known! Is to be the best!” A confession coming from a place much deeper than the three before them could probably ever realize. 

Or, maybe not.

Ava’s voice shifts into something softer. “Roman….”

“None of ya’ll could ever fucking understand what that’s like! To have to always be fucking perfect, cause none of you could ever do what I fucking do! What I've been forced to do!”

A surprised, almost sympathetic expression on Jimmy as he tries to step forward. “Roman, we not trying—”

“Man! Listen to him!” Jey’s expression, however, is anything but shocked or sympathetic. It’s just a continuing, growing thing of anger. “Man, you got your head so far up your ass you can’t even see or think straight! You not God, Roman. The world don’t fucking stop and end with you just cause you the Tribal Chief, and you not above our rules and ways.” A scoff followed up with a dangerous inclusion. “And neither is Solana.”

Roman pauses. A shift. “What the hell did you just say?”

Jimmy attempts to intercede. “Jey, that’s enough.”

“Pops was wrong, yes, but Solana was wrong, too, and the fact that you can’t see that is what’s so messed up. That you can’t see why you was wrong is messed up.” Jey continues, the anger simmering into something slightly more manageable. “I love Solana like a sister, but that don’t mean I can’t hold her accountable—”

“Accountable?” Roman interrupts, fist forming at his side. “Your dad tried to hit my wife, and you talking about some fucking accountability?”

“What?” Ava gasps, turning to Jimmy and Jey. “Ya’ll didn’t tell me that! You just said—”

“They said what they wanted you to know,” Roman cuts off, hoping Ava realizes just why she shouldn’t have interjected herself.

Family or no family. 

“Ya’ll, we not getting nowhere.” Jimmy runs his hand over his face. “Can we please just sit down—”

“Why?” Jey scoffs, breaking away. “He don’t want—”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to him,” Roman does them both a favor, saying what they’re both feeling. “To either of ya’ll.”

Because while a part of him understands what Jimmy is trying to do, the focus should be less on a conversation with the three of them and more on a conversation with his twin who seems completely beyond rationality at this point. 

“Fuck you, Roman!” Jey’s outburst is unsurprising, the traces of the hothead lying dormant revealing itself. He always knew it wasn’t completely settled. He just didn’t know it would return for something like this. “I’m done with all this shit!”

The feeling is fucking mutual. Roman turns to head back into the house, ignoring the call of Ava who fails in her efforts to get him to stay. 

Running her hands through her hair, she turns her focus to the twins, fully prepared to snap on them for not giving her the entire picture when she sees an irate Jey is heading to the car and a defeated Jimmy going to the passenger side.

“.....Fuck him!” Another enraged outburst as Jey slides into the passenger seat. “I hope he get exactly what he deserve!”

The door slamming accompanies the frown on Ava’s face.

Just what is that supposed to mean?

—-----------------

The drive back home is a long, quiet, heavy one. Roman’s grip on the steering wheel is relentless almost the entire time, his knuckles practically white.

He’s pissed at Ava. Pissed at her involvement. Pissed at Jimmy. Pissed at his misdirected focus. And pissed at Jey for all the things but one thing more than the rest.

Solana.

The fact that Jey is using Solana as a scapegoat. That he’s using Solana and the situation with Rikishi as an excuse for what his anger is really about and towards. It’s towards him. Jey is upset with Roman, but he’s using Solana as the face of that anger, and that irks Roman more than anything.

Because he knows damn well Jey’s prideful ass is still upset about what went down at Solana’s party, which could also be another reason he keeps pulling the Solana card. Perhaps there is some anger there towards Solana.

His grip tightens.

That only further incenses him. 

Solana didn’t do anything fucking wrong, and the fact that Jey refuses to acknowledge that shows just how deep this shit goes. 

Reveals that the incident at her party only helped to revive what was never really dead.

Indicates that perhaps this needs to be handled the same way it was handled before. 

Tribal Combat.

Before, it was for the ula fala, and Roman doubts that’s what Jey wants. Not that he could handle it, even if he tried. But, Tribal Combat doesn’t have to be for the mantle. It can be for many other things, including settling scores.

And, it seems there’s certainly a growing score to settle with his cousin.

Finally arriving home, Roman does his best to leave the weight of his day with him outside before he steps foot into the house, because he doesn’t know what kind of day his wife has had, either. Intermittent check up via texts would indicate her day went fine, but he also indicated that his day went fine, which couldn’t be farthest from the truth. Regardless, his pregnant wife doesn’t need anything else put on her, especially not all of his muddy shit.

So a deep breath is taken as he turns the knob and steps foot into his home, immediately hit with a delicious and familiar scent. He can’t name it, but he knows it. One of his favorite dishes prepared by his wife. A welcomed, helpful thing for a heavy soul.

“Baby, is that you?”

Solana’s voice is clearly coming from the kitchen, a small smile on his face. Just the sound of her voice is enough to evoke pleasant emotions.

The hold she has on him truly is dangerous.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he shouts, barely able to take another step when she yells again, voice more urgent.

“Wait!” He does, his smile shifting. “Don’t come in yet! It’s a surprise!” Roman rolls his eyes, more from amusement than irritation. “Close your eyes!”

A small sigh. “Solana, you know I don’t—”

“No arguing!” She cuts him off, the determination making him chuckle. “Close em;!”

Well, this is certainly unexpected but slightly appreciated as it helps to ebb away the stress and tension that’s had him weighed down, literally and metaphorically, for most of the day. 

Solana knows good and well he doesn’t like surprises, but what he hates more is upsetting his wife. So, he obliges. 

“Alright, they’re closed,” he informs.

“You promise?”

Another small smile. “I promise.”

Roman feels slightly bad for keeping his sweet, naive wife out of the loop regarding just how effective his training has been over the many years. Because he absolutely can hear the moment she starts walking from the kitchen, through the living room, to the front door. Partially betrayed by her heels, a little by her sweet perfume that travels with her, but also his excellent senses.

As he is also very aware that she’s facing him, standing right before him, waving her hand in front of his face to ensure his eyes are really shut. But, he won’t spoil that for her.

“Okay.” She takes his hands, starting to gently tug him forward. “Just….just follow me.”

And, he will. Wherever she goes. Always.

The small smile is stapled on his face as she asks along the way if he’s looking or “peeking,” to which his answer is a simple no. But, it’s humorous to him how he can just see the nervous expression on his wife’s pretty face, the way she’s chewing down on her bottom lip, probably unsure of his veracity. 

He helps her a bit as she directs him to sit down, most likely at his seat at the head of their dining room table. Solana moves her hands to cover his eyes, explaining, “okay, you can open but keep your eyes forward and on the table. Don’t look at me.”

That dims his smile a bit. “Solana—” 

Her lips, soft and full, are pressed against his cheek before she shifts, dropping her hands to clearly to stand behind him. “Trust me.”

A difficult yet easy thing to do. One of the many contradictions he finds himself navigating these days. “Alright.”

Her giggle soothes him just a bit more. “Okay, open…..now!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

And, he does, immediately taken back by the extent of what he sees. He knew she cooked, could tell by the aroma the minute he walked into the door, but he just didn’t know how much she cooked.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. Roman’s eyes jump from dish to dish, the table completely covered with various items.

“I made all your favorites,” Solana explains in the sweetest, most her voice, still behind him. “Chicken Flautas. Sausage and Rice Skillet. Chicken Birria Tacos. Fajitas. Enchiladas. Desserts too, of course. Tres Leches Cake. Sopaipillas.” It seems like the list is endless, Roman’s appreciation growing with each item she lists.

“Sol, you didn’t have to do all this.”

She really didn't. He’s forever appreciative, more than willing to consume the whole damn table if he could, but he’ll always prefer her taking it easy over anything. “You should be re—”

“Baby, I am. But, being on pelvic rest doesn’t mean I can’t do all the things I enjoy. Like cooking. Besides, I wanted to do something nice for you….” It takes a lot of restraint for him to not look at her as she moves her hands to his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “Plus….it might…it might lessen the blow if you don’t….if you don’t like them.”

Another confused expression. “Them?”

Roman hears the deep breath she takes followed by a shift from behind to beside. Bypassing the previous instructions, Roman finally lands his gaze on his wife after a day of absence.

And what a sight.

“Solana….”

It’s hard for his brain and eyes to work together on what the focus on first. The sexy red dress low cut by the chest, accented with a black bow that accentuates her ample cleavage and something else. But, that’s battled with the difficulty he has in also not focusing on her hair that’s jet black at the roots, fading down into an almost dark red. Still the same length, just a new color combo.

Bloodline colors.

Solana biting on her bottom lip briefly pulls him from his alternating focus. “I know it’s a lot…” Her fingers go to her hair, blood red locks intertwined in her fingers. “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair red, but I didn’t know if all red would look good on me, so Bayley suggested—”

“You look beautiful, Solana,” he cuts in, unable to stop himself from angling his body so that he can pull her between his spread thighs. “You always look beautiful, but this….”

A hopeful, nervous inquiry. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he breathes, having to work hard to redirect his focus to the other new change. Right by her clavicle on the left side of her body, covered with Saniderm is fresh ink. 

siempRe tú  

All black and lower cased letters with the exception of the ‘R’ that’s uppercase and blood red.

He has an idea, but not the specifics. “Solana….”

Her smile is warm and bashful. “It means ‘always you’ in Spanish.” She angles her head down, hand carefully placed around the perimeter of it. “The ‘R’ is for you. For Roman. That’s why it’s in red.” His gaze darts to hers, locked in, intense, meaningful. “Because it’ll always be you, Ro. Always and forever.”

It’s a lot to take in. He knew she was getting a tattoo, knew that it was on her list of things that she wanted to do, but he was under the impression she was getting a mental health themed tattoo. Hence her and her new friend group going together, as they were all planning to get one.

But this…

“You got a tattoo for me?” 

Loving him is one thing, being with him is one thing, but putting something permanent on her body for him is something entirely different. 

She nods, moving her hand to his face, gently stroking his beard. “I did. And the truth is I wanted your full name, but I don’t know if that would be…safe. If it would give away the truth of our relationship….”

She’s not entirely wrong. But, he himself doesn’t know just how he would feel about that. 

Undeserving.

He ghosts his hand along the edge of the Saniderm, chuckling in disbelief. “It looks amazing.”

Her smile is bright and appreciative. “Thank you.” Solana moves her hands to the bottom of her dress. “I designed them both myself.”

And yet another frown. “Both?”

It’s in her lifting her dress and turning to the side, Roman puts together what Solana was referring to when she said them earlier. 

The new hair.

The new tattoo.

The other new tattoo. 

Because inked on her side is yet another new piece of artwork. The word breathe, except the ‘B’ is actually a butterfly whose body is made up of a semicolon. Once again, Roman’s hand is near her soft skin, Solana explaining, “this is the one we all got together.”

And, he can understand why, Solana having explained to him the symbolism behind a semicolon for people with mental health struggles.

People like herself. 

"It looks amazing, Solana." Because it does, and the fact that she designed both herself just makes it even better.

Her smile is warm and loving. "Thank you." It shifts though, quickly almost, into something slightly solemn. “Ro….” There’s persistent and consistent difficulty in not getting so caught up and consumed in all the things stirring within him at all of these unexpected things, but it’s helped by her continued explanations. “Do you remember….when I was in the hospital and you asked about the butterflies on my wrist? What the other three were?”

“Yeah.” A quiet answer as she moves herself onto his lap, her hands on his chest. 

Her smile shifts once more into something still slightly sad yet proud. “One was for Dulce, and the other two….they were for Lina and Leya.”

Another bombshell that has him speechless, an effect hardly seen, if ever, in the Head of the Table.

“I first started to have the dreams when I was in the hospital, and…..and I didn’t know then that they would actually be coming, of course, but….but just the idea of them….it made a difference.” She swallows, wiping her eyes as a lone tear escapes. “So, I want to get the butterflies as tattoos, but I want you to be there with me for that.”

Roman nods, understanding why she didn’t want him around for this round. Because of the first tattoo, because she clearly wanted it to be a surprise, and a surprise it certainly is. 

"Of course, I'll go with you."

Partially because he too wants to follow her lead.

Wants to get a tattoo for her.

But, he has time to figure that out.

And, he will figure it out.

Solana kisses his cheek, mumbling a 'thank you,' asking once more. “So you really do like them?”

Her nervous question evokes a small sigh as he brings his hand back to her cheek. “I love them.” An honest answer, as he also tips over the edge of comfortably. “I—I don’t know how I feel about the tattoo for me, not because I don’t like it, but because it’s so permanent. You putting me on your body like that….”

“It’s what I wanted,” she reassures. Her voice is firm and unwavering. “I love you, Roman. I’ll always love you.”

But, I don’t deserve it.

Thoughts that float through his head. Thoughts that should be shared, and he will. As uncomfortable as it is, he promised Solana he’d try to be more open with her.

But, not tonight. Not when she’s had a seemingly nice day and has gone above and beyond for him. They can have that. Have tonight. He’ll give her that much. 

She stands up and kisses his forehead. “Come on. The food is getting cold.”

Dinner is shared amongst the two of them, conversation sprinkled throughout a bit of overindulgence on Roman’s part, an extended gym session in his near future but so worth it. 

Always worth it. 

Naturally, he helps her put away what’s left over, not much, and clean up the kitchen before he guides them into the living room. On the sofa, her body leaned back into his, his arm protectively around her, the other lax on the top of the sofa. Dulce sleeps comfortably on the loveseat opposite them, also full and content from her homemade dog friendly dinner. 

“You wanna tell me how your day really went.” Not a question. More an option. A knowing he should not have put past her. She’s learned him too well.

His mate in every sense of the word. Whether he feels deserving of her or not.

Sighing, he kisses the top of her head. “Not really.”

Her fingers dance gently across the top of his hand. “Roman….”

He knows where this is going, can see it a mile away, and while his preference is to put it off for tomorrow, he knows it’s all inevitable. “Ava….Ava arranged a meeting between me and the twins.”

Solana looks up, eyes full of curiosity, “did you know?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Because, if he did, he would have never gone. “It didn’t go well.”

“Ro…”

“Not even Jimmy, as much as Jey. It feels like…..like we’re in our twenties all over again, and he’s trying me. I thought we were past this shit, but clearly not. He thinks I'm in the wrong with the whole Rikishi situation.” And before she can even ask, he answers, unapologetic. “I told him to fuck off.”

She sighs against him. “Roman, it’s….I don’t want that to get between you two.”

“It shouldn’t,” he agrees. “But, it’s also deeper than that one situation. I think Jey’s probably been feeling some sort of way for a while, and this situation along with your party just broke the camel’s back. Regardless, I’m not changing my mind. He’s wrong, and that’s just that.”

“He’s your family, Roman.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, Solana, and you know it.” She of all people should know that. “His loyalty is clearly to his father, and that’s fine, but right is right and wrong is wrong. He’s wrong, and Rikishi was dead wrong, too. Whether they wanna see and/or acknowledge that is on them.”

She doesn’t say anything, continuing to look up at him, eventually asking in a small voice, “so what does that mean for ya’ll?”

His answer is honest. “I don’t know.” 

Because, he doesn’t. This isn’t like when they were still kids, for all intents and purposes. They’re grown men and should be able to handle it as such, but Jey seems incapable of that, consumed and controlled by his emotions. And, Roman doesn’t have time to deal with that shit. Nor a desire to. Jey is going to have to work through his shit before they can even attempt to attack this again. 

Or, as he was thinking earlier, they lay it out in the ring.

Tribal Combat.

Solana, however, doesn't need to know that part. Not yet. If it becomes a sure thing, he'll share it. For now though, it stays with him.

“But, it’s not a priority right now.” Or much of a concern, really. Not compared to everything else he has going on. “You’re my priority.” Navigating this pregnancy is a priority. Not Jey being in his fucking feelings over stupid shit.

“I don’t like this.” Roman can admit, at least to himself, that he doesn’t, either. But, it is what it is. And, he voices as such.

“We just have to see how it plays out.” However and whatever that may be. “How did it go with Bayley?”

The corner of her lip lifts into a half, sad smile. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

Possibly. “Trying to see how my wife’s day was.”

Solana rolls her eyes, thankfully, agreeing to the transition. “It….went good. She….she was happy.” 

“Yeah?”

Nodding, Solana chews on her bottom lip, sharing in a soft voice. “Surprised, of course. But….she didn’t question it. Didn’t seem like she wanted like….proof or something.”

“The proof is in the letter, Sol.”

“I know. I know. I just….I think I was nervous she would….” Solana shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. She’s happy that we’re literally family and even offered to help me tell everyone else.”

Roman nods, happy for his wife. Happy that it went over well, though he had little doubt it would. Regardless of whatever unprocessed feelings still linger towards Bayley, deep down, he truly does trust she loves Solana. As a friend first. Now as family.

“So when is that supposed to happen?” 

“This week.” The answer surprises him a bit. He wasn’t expecting that so soon. Regardless, if it’s what she wants, good for her on going for it. “Which brings me to a question….a favor I need from you.”

“Baby, how many times I gotta tell you doing things for you is never a favor? It’s my job as your husband.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, angling her body more towards him. “You haven’t heard what it is, yet…” There’s a pause between her initial statement and the rest of it. “Bayley’s family is having a get together at their restaurant this Friday—”

“Okay…..” And it’s when she gives him that look that it dawns on him. “Oh hell no.”

“Baby, please,” she pouts, hand to his chest. “I want you there with me.”

“Around people?” The word people is laced with disgust and irritation. “Solana, you know I hate people.”

“They’re….they’re my family, Roman.” It’s a pointed, poignant counter, one that definitely tugs out a bit of guilt from him. “They’re gonna be the girls’ family. I want you to have a relationship with them as well.” He looks away, slightly comforted by her hand gently moving up and down his chest. “Please?”

The guilt was already pushing him one way, but it’s the ‘please’ that pushes him over the edge. “Okay, I’ll go with you.” Roman scowls, not from the way she moves to climb on his lap, straddling him, kissing his cheek, but from the thought of this forced socialization. “But, I’m not talking to anyone.”

Solana frowns. “Roman…”

“Or, I’m sitting in the car.”

“Roman, you are not sitting in the car,” she protests, informing. “Dwayne and Matteo are gonna be there, too.” 

“What? Why?” They’re not even her family. 

“Because I invited them,” she answers so calmly, fingers playing with his beard. “Bayley also invited Naomi, so I don’t know if Jimmy will be there….”

“There’s food. He’ll be there.” She smiles a little at his deadpanned tone. “I still don’t get why you invited Dwayne and Matteo.”

“Because they’re your family, and you like Dwayne. It’ll give you someone to talk to. Maybe even Matteo too…..”

Roman sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Solana, I know you want me—”

“I just want you to be happy, Roman.” An honest, kind, almost vulnerable thing that makes sense for her. That’s just who she is.

His hand moves in comforting circles on the small of her back. “I am happy, Solana. I have you, and I’ll have them.” His gaze moves to her stomach, briefly darting to her tattoo. “That’s all I need.”

“No, it’s not.” Unexpected disagreement. A testament of her growing assertiveness, something he both appreciates but also dislikes. Dislikes how adept she’s become at reading him. “But, I understand you need time. Just know I’m not giving up on this. I have family and so do you. And we deserve it. To be surrounded by and have people who love and care about us. Because…because that’s who’s going to love and care about the girls, too.”

He’s silent. Sitting on her words. So heavy and true. Accurate, even if they stir up more of those damn emotions.

Finally, he settles on a response that's almost second nature at this point. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” She kisses his cheek, laying her head in the crook of his neck. A few, comfortable minutes of silence pass before anything else is said. “Ro, can I ask you something?”

A sigh and kiss to her temple. “You can ask me anything, Sol. You know this.”

If only he knew what she planned to ask though. “How many kids do we have in your dreams?”

Shit.

It’s an innocent question, really. One that should provide an easy answer but not for the fact he’s thinking about what she shared with him when she was in the hospital. About wanting more kids. 

Several more kids.

Normally, Roman could easily get away with a little white lie. But, it’s the delay in his answer, as well as the gruffness in his voice, that betray him. “Just the girls.”

Solana lifts her head to look at him, a knowing, crafty smile on her pretty face. 

And right away, he knows he’s fucked up.

“It’s the five, isn’t it?”

A last minute effort to sway her. “No, I get a vasectomy after the twins.”

She shakes her head, clearly seeing past his bullshit. “No, you don’t.”

“Solana—”

“It’s Lina and Leya—”

“Sol—”

“A little boy afterwards—”

“We can’t—”

“And then another set of twins, right?” 

Damn. 

The joy on her face is a stark contrast to the horror on his when she proudly announces, “we’re gonna have five kids.”

“Solana, we are not having five kids.” Just saying it aloud makes his head hurt. “You think my blood pressure is high now? Are you trying to kill me?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic, Ro.”

“No, you’re being delusional if you really think I’m gonna give you five children.” Because as much as he loves this girl with everything in him, she’s clearly not thinking straight. “What am I gonna do with all them damn kids, Solana? I’m too old for all that.”

Leave it to her ass, and she’ll have him pushing 60 with a toddler and a college freshman. “And what about Dulce?”

Solana pouts. “What about her?”

“You saw how she was with Jey’s kids.” The mentioning of said children prompts their puppy to lift her head, eyes alert and searching. “See, the damn dog got PTSD just from that one day. Imagine if it was all the time.”

Solana moves her hands to the collar of his shirt, adjusting it as she calmly explains, “our kids won’t be like them. You won’t let them be like them.”

She has a point there. It’ll be a cold day in hell before any of his children exhibit even a fraction of the disobedience that marks Jey’s entire offspring. 

An idea crosses his mind, Roman suggesting, “what if I got you another dog instead?”

But, at that, not only does Dulce lift her head again, she makes a low growling sound. 

Solana bites back a smile. “I don’t think she likes that idea.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like the idea of people thinking we’re fucking Mormons or that I’m breeding you out or some shit.” But, it’s in saying that second part aloud, he finds himself asking, “do you have a breeding kink?’

Because talking about having three more kids when she’s not even three months pregnant with their first set is almost asinine to him.

And his eyes nearly widen when she shrugs and answers in a small voice“I don’t know.” What the actual fuck? “I just want more kids, Roman.”

“We can have one more,” he compromises. Because three is manageable, especially considering they’ll still need a son for him to have an official heir.

Too bad she’s not going for it. “Three.”

“One.”

And Solana’s journey to assertiveness continues as she grabs his face, stating firmly, “three.”

“Solana.” He shifts, carefully lowering her hands from his face. “I love you, but I’m telling you right now, we’re not having five kids, and that’s just that.”

She rolls her pretty eyes, muttering, “we’ll see” and climbs off his lap, walking out of the living room.

“Yeah, we’ll see alright,” he huffs, scoffing and shaking his head. “This girl done lost her damn mind.” Looking over at Dulce who’s been privy to the whole scene, he finds himself asking, “can you believe her?”

Dulce’s response is a bark. Agreement, clearly.

“Thank you,” he responds, rubbing his temples and leaning back into the sofa.

He could sure use a drink or something right about now.

Five kids?

Hell no.

He's always been unable to say no to her, but there's a first time for everything, because over his dead body will he produce five children.

Absolutely fucking not.

Solana suddenly comes up from behind, leaning down and hugging him. “Fine. We won’t have five kids.” Relief fills him as she kisses his cheek. It’s about damn time she comes to her senses. “We’ll have six.”

The sound of her giggling as she runs off is conjoined with his eyes widening as he stands up to go after her because what the fuck?

This girl most definitely has some type of breeding kink.

“Solana!”

[adieutristana]

not sure why it won’t let me respond to this one, but i’d be happy to write it! thank you for the request <3

also yall know i sometimes share the songs i have on repeat. right now it’s ’wings of a butterfly’ by HIM. ugh, so addictive

summary; jinx’s girlfriend comforting jinx, who thinks she doesn’t deserve her.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of poor mental health, a lot of crying and a panicked state, slight suicidal ideation, fluff

men dni.

jinx's mental state has always been... fragile, at best.

jinx never liked speaking of her past, preferring not to dwell on it. it was too painful for her, bringing tears to her eyes, her body quivering, sometimes even triggering hallucinations. as you spent more time by the girl's side, she began to slowly open up, dropping little details about her past every now and again.

she'll drop in anecdotes about her parents, or her childhood with vi, mylo, and claggor. she told you briefly about the job she went on that triggered the seemingly never-ending chain of unfortunate events that was her life, but she was always vague about it. shying away from the details, wincing when she even mentioned the incident on the bridge. most of what you had gathered about that time in her life was through word of mouth of others in zaun, bystanders who remembered it.

but you never push, never pry for more than she'll give you. it's not important to know every little detail, really, what matters is jinx here and now and how she's doing currently. how what happens has affected her and what you can do to support her.

in many ways, you've become the girl's crutch. her sanctuary of sorts, her safe place to come back to when the world gets too harsh or the voices become too loud. jinx navigates her life in fear, as much as she tries to put up a tough front- but you've never given her anything to be afraid of. that's one of the things that sets you aside from the other people in her life.

but tonight, it's all just so overwhelming. jinx can't shake the voices, can't shake the thoughts swirling around her mind. she's shaking, tears spilling from her eyes and lip quivering, her hands tugging at her braids and eyes squeezed shut. she tries to rock herself back and forth, trying to give herself some kind of comfort, but it isn't doing anything. she can't ground herself, can't shake the thoughts of worthlessness and the need to just disappear flying at her.

she knows that you're sleeping right next to her, and that makes jinx feel even worse. god, she's a mess. why can't she just let you sleep? be quiet and normal for once? you deserve better than this, surely, to be sleeping and have a girl losing herself next to you. she tries to stifle her sobs. the girl can't decide whether she wants your comfort or to just be left alone, leaving you to sleep and be okay without her. but it's all so much, jinx can barely form any coherent thoughts.

she hears you stirring next to her, blankets rustling, and jinx knows that she fucked up. her eyes blow wide, trying to rush over and coax you back to sleep, but you're groaning and blinking your eyes open.

"what... what's going on, love?"

you whisper, voice heavy with sleep.

"n-nothing, toots, just..." she sniffles, taking in a shaky breath. "go back to sleep... i'll be fine, i'll..."

she can't even finish her sentence before she's in hysterics again, you rushing to sit up beside her and scoot closer. sitting right next to your girlfriend's trembling form and taking both of her shoulders, trying to ground her somehow.

"jinx, baby, what's wrong?" you breathe out. "please, talk to me... i can't help you if you don't talk to me."

she's heaving, desperately trying to look at you, but her eyes are clouded with unshed tears.

"i don't deserve you. you should be with someone better than me."

she states, plainly. her voice is quiet and frail, holding eye contact with you... it's unsettling, frankly. you cautiously tighten your grip on her shoulders.

"what makes you say that? of course you deserve me."

she shakes her head slowly, sniffling.

"no. i'm a monster, a murderer," jinx mutters. "i've done bad things, babe. a lot of bad things."

you tilt your head, your voice dropping slightly. trying to use a softer, more soothing tone, trying to just get through to jinx.

"you think i don't know that?"

"you do. but i don't know if you understand it."

you're slightly taken aback by this, slowly swallowing and examining jinx's expression. she's so withdrawn, so cold. it's like she's not even there. you've seen your girlfriend in episodes before, shaking her head and screaming for the voices, the visions to stop. having to rock her back and forth in your arms as she settled down, gently shushing her. reminding her that everything is alright, she's safe, you're not going to let anything hurt her.

"honestly... maybe everyone would be better off without me."

this snaps you out of your thoughts, immediately grasping jinx even harder.

"don't you dare talk like that, jinx."

you say, voice stern. although, it makes jinx wince slightly, and that brings a feeling of harsh guilt, enveloping your very being in that moment. you can't bear to see her in any more pain than she's already in, especially to contribute to that pain.

"i just... i don't understand it. you're always so nice to me, and you don't bring up any of what i've done. even when i come back here covered in blood."

you gaze at her as she goes on, simply letting her talk. get it out, jinx. it's okay.

"why don't you care? anyone else would." she asks, a single tear falling.

"i'm not anyone else."

you whisper, hands coming to gently cup both of her cheeks. cradling her face in your hands, as if you were handling a piece of precious porcelain. that's not too far off, though. for you, jinx is the most precious thing in the entire world- far more precious than any money or items. she's your treasure.

"i know what you've done, jinx. i've seen it. and honestly, i don't give a shit."

jinx lets out a quiet gasp, feeling one of your thumbs coming to wipe her tears away, feeling sticky cheeks from all of the crying. poor girl.

"but-"

"none of that. i don't care. i know that there's good in you, because i've seen it. i see it every single day that i'm with you. you are anything but a monster."

your eyes are gazing into jinx's own, making sure that she gets every last word you're saying.

"you are a caring, talented, loyal girl, one who i've seen be gentle and kind when she wants to be. you've cared for me, loved me, protected me, all without asking for anything in return. that's rare, jinx."

she nods slowly, rosy eyes still locked with yours. she isn't saying anything, but you can tell that jinx is comprehending what you're telling her, taking it in.

"but you could have anyone." she protests. "i don't understand why you chose the crazy criminal."

"jinx, stop talking about yourself like that."

you say, pressing your forehead to hers.

"i chose you because you make me happy, and i love you, and again, i see the good in you. i don't want anyone else. i know that you get in your head like this, but i don't think any less of you for it. if anything, i admire your resilience."

you pause for a moment, before jinx finally lets up, slowly nodding along.

"...you promise?"

"i promise."

"you won't leave me?"

"i wouldn't dream of it."

jinx lets out a shaky breath, nodding again. slowly wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder, letting her eyes slip shut.

"let's get you in bed, okay?"

[hee0soo]

Coachella, Baby!

Pairing — Song Mingi x afab!Reader

Summary — Not quite sober and having enjoyed the set you were most waiting for, you and your friend enjoyed the rest of your weekend in the desert. Not knowing what else it held ready for you...

Genre — smut, fluff if you squint

Warnings — fingering, penetrative sex , alcohol, stay safe kids and use condoms!

Word Count — 2.5k

Rating — NSFW

A/N — I don't know why i always think i can do smut but here you go! Also i'm a about 8 months late with this so oopsiee :))

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

When your friend had surprised you with tickets for this years coachella to see one of your favorite groups perform, you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss her or smack her for spending so much money!

But now, standing a little to the side with a clear view of Ateez performing on the stage underneath the Sahara tent, you were sure your soul had left your body and had descended to heaven right then and there!

The bass was loud, filling your ears pleasantly, the vibration of the music playing and making the locals dance and bang their heads enthusiastically while Atinys were screaming their lungs out to make the group on stage hear their own fanchat with pride. You were glad that you could experience this milestone alongside those boys while they gave their all during the powerful set list they had chosen for the night.

And the visuals were a dream in and for itself! Unmatched even!

From the captains sudden change to cherry red hair, San's abs flaunted right in your face, Seonghwa's very low cut shirt to Mingi's almost white hair and chest tattoo, you were impressed that your legs were still working when the set was finally over and it was already late at night when you and your friend came back to the hotel.

The plan for the next day was simple. You hadn’t planned any specifics with her, instead opting to just go wherever you liked for the next 2 days and when you saw videos of the members enjoying their time watching other artists you didn’t think much of it. Happy that they enjoyed their stay, you weren’t planning to seek out any of them. You wanted to give them the privacy they deserved and not burden them with questions or attention.

With that in mind, you and your best friend, kept walking from stage to stage until it became dark again and while you watched over the other girl as she downed one shot after the other, you stayed sober enough to be clear minded. At least enough to realize that you had managed to trip over you own two feet and land in the arms of a complete stranger.

Hastily you freed yourself from the gentle hands holding onto your upper arms, apologizing profusely.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you oka-?" you froze in your tracks the moment your not entirely sober brain caught up with the moment. Words that before had come out of your mouth like a waterfall, cut of and you were stunned to silence the second you realized that the person that caught you was not just a random stranger visiting the festival.

Dark brown eyes that somewhat reminded you of molten chocolate stared into your e/c ones and a devilishly handsome yet friendly grin made your heart skip a beat! His white hair looked wild and disheveled; standing into every direction while barely being tamed by the pair of sun glasses atop his head!

The carefree aura surrounding him had you relaxing instantly.

For a moment you just stood there, buffering while you tried to understand what was happening.

"I, uhm, okay?" the deep drawl of his voice went straight to your lower regions, lighting a fire you didn't know had been burning.

Quickly switching gear at the obvious, although adorable, struggle at communication in English, your next words made his face brighten even further if possible. The familiar sound of his own language causing his nose to scrunch up cutely and for once in your life you thanked the seemingly endless nights of studying for giving you the ability to understand and speak at least some Korean!

"I'm sorry Mingi-ssi, I really wasn't trying to bother you!" you explained with a rushed bow of your head.

The tall rapper waved you off. "No, I'm glad I caught you! Can't let a pretty woman like yourself get hurt," the wink he sent you paired with the way he was very obviously checking you out made your cheeks burn. "And your korean is so good too!"

"Ah, thank you that means a lot! I'm also glad to see that you can enjoy yourself like this freely," you said with a head tilt to the stage where ISOKNOCK was still playing. The smile never left his face. "Yeah, I'm really enjoying the view right now…”

Mingi took a step forward, reducing the distance between your body and his as he came to stand by your side while you were vibing to the music.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," you winked and turned back to face the stage. You could feel him hovering behind you, eyes staring at the back of your head for a moment before whispering a soft, "Yeah...”.

Searching the crowd for your best friend, you found her dancing with a tall brunette that was feeling her up rather enthusiastically. The way it looked you knew that she wasn't gonna stay around much longer and would soon search for a spot to fuck the stranger into tomorrow.

She winked over his shoulder at you and you laughed at her antics before she took his hand and disappeared in the crowd.

"Was that your friend?"

You looked at him over your shoulder, nodding and looking upfront again. "Yes, seems like I'll be leaving alone later tho." you chuckled.

"And you aren't planning to do the same as her? Leave with someone to have some fun, I mean?"

His words made you stop your dancing and startled look back at his face again. He was smiling still but something about the twinkle in his eyes caused you to pickup on the ultirior motive behind said smile. It looked almost mischievous!

"Are you offering?"

The surprise in your voice was evident. Did he really just- ask if you were down to go fuck with him? Him? Mingi? Rapper of your favorite boy group? You were already surprised that you had kept your cool once you had known who had caught you and that he hadn't immediately left right after!

The man shrugged, his oversized black jacket with the little fix on drawing printed on, slipping ever so slightly. Revealing a small bit of tattoo on his chest. You gulped.

"Would you agree if I was?"

Suddenly his voice was much closer then before; him having leaned forward to whisper directly into your ear. You felt dizzy. With his front now almost pressed to your back, you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. It left you breathless and the touch of his hand on your waist did not make it better.

Humming quietly you nodded.

"What was that? I need words darling…” he drawled out, the music long having faded into the background.

Fuck!

You swallowed harshly.

"Yes, I would! Please…” you whispered hoping that he could hear you. Mingis hand left your side which you automatically missed until he reached for your hand instead, leading you away through the crowd and away from any people.

Panic struck when you remembered the amount of cameras surrounding you and him and what they could pick up.

He must have sensed that something was wrong. "Don't mind them." Hurrying to get out of the spotlight, the rapper led you to the backstage area, waving at the security guard who nodded at him with a low whistle that had your cheeks burning.

You recognized the trailers that the artists used to get ready for the show or simply to hangout and you almost squealed walking past Sabrina Carpenter!

While you weren't sure where you were being led to, Mingi knew exactly where he was going. The yellow sign with Ateez written in dark purple glitter pinned to one of the trailer doors clueing you in very soon.

Picking the lock swiftly, Mingi gestured for you to come inside before doing the same. The door of the trailer falling shut behind him.

You looked around, taking in the surroundings. There were multiple vanity tables, chairs and an unbelievable amount of luggage standing at the side but what caught your eyes specifically, was the big and very comfortable looking couch.

His hot breath fanned over the exposed skin of your neck, making you shudder and goosebumps appeared on your arms. Your purse mindlessly dropping to the floor and Mingi wrapped his arms around you from behind, plush lips pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot right below your ear, making you shudder.

You tipped your head back, letting it rest against his shoulder. Enjoying the feeling of his mouth trailing down your neck. The soft sting of his teeth nibbling on the skin getting soothed by his tongue licking over the bites like a little kitten. The temperature inside the room suddenly much warmer and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on your skin.

The man let up from your neck to walk in front of you, fingers reaching for you to pull you along, dropping down on the couch and take you down with him. Now perched up on his lap you couldn't stop yourself from pressing your lips to his in an urgent kiss. Not hesitating to reciprocate Mingi let his tongue run over your lower lip begging to be let in. His left hand found purchase on your waist, the left one pushing up the fabric of your skirt and squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

Your breath hitched at the touch and Mingi used the chance to deepen the kiss further.

With clumsy moves and shacking fingers you pulled down the zipper of his jacket, shrugging it of his shoulders and revealing a low cut black tank top and more of his tattoo. Gripping the hem of the shirt you pulled it over his head and threw it carelessly somewhere behind you.

"Fuck, I knew it looked good but damn-" you gasped out, finger tips brushing over his chest and making him laugh loudly.

“Good to know that it had it's desired effect ." he winked and removed your own top to throw it to the side. He admired you with hooded eyes, the strap of your bra slipping down your shoulder. Quick and definitely knowing how, he opened the clasp on the back and with a smooth shrug of your shoulder the offending piece of clothing landed somewhere behind you on the floor.

Mingi used the moment of distraction to lean forward, his plush lips now wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking like he had spend a lifetime doing it. A moan ripped through the silence of the night and you could feel yourself clench around nothing while the rapper used his mouth to tease your breast as his hand fondled the other gently. Thumb flicking over the nub, stimulating it deliciously.

You could feel his other hand resting on your waist, guiding the rolling of your hips against the very prominent bulge in his pants. Until now, you hadn't even noticed that you had started grinding against him and judging by the blissed out expression, Mingi didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

At a particular hard roll against his dick, Mingi Iet up and an almost whiny sound of desperation escaped his throat.

"Want you out of those pants," you panted against his mouth, knowing full well that's what he wanted too.

"Fuck yes, please?" Mingi gasped lowly. His face was scrunched together in pleasure and with barely opened eyes the man nodded again for good measure. At this point he was already so hard that it was almost painful wearing the prison of fabric that were his pants and underwear and the little sounds he made went straight to your pussy.

You could feel your underwear very well sticking to the skin, sure that it was a whole mess in them by now after grinding against him and it wouldn’t surprise you if you had soaked his sweatpants too.

With your skirt scrunched together at your waist you pulled away, his mouth separating from your tits and a sound of disappointment came from him.

It sounded suspiciously close to a whine which in return made you smirk smugly down at him.

“Get these off.” You demanded with a teasing peck to his cheek and loved the wide boba eyes he gave you at the change of tone in your voice. Mingi entranced by the look on your face quickly rushed to do as he was told.

His cock sprang free and hit his stomach before bouncing back and you could feel your mouth watering at this.

“Good boy.” You purred, forcing him to look into your eyes by holding his face just how you wanted it; thumb gliding smoothly over his cheek bone and you let up once more to shrug your panties down your legs.

When you reached for the hem of your skirt, Mingi stopped you and shook his head with begging eyes.

“Leave it, you look so sexy in it…”

So you left it. Hands lowering to his shoulders you sat back down in his lap which Mingi did not stay in for long as he twisted you around so you were suddenly trapped under his large frame, caged in by his arms right next to your head and making it impossible to escape.

Not that you wanted to.

The man above you surged forward to meet your lips in urgency. His cock was rubbing against the inside of your thigh searching for your cunt to plunge into.

“Can’t wait anymore, can i-“ he gasped against your mouth.

“Yes! God, yes pleeease!” you keened in return and let your head sink back into the cushions of the couch, lifting you hips a bit so he could line himself up.

His head caught against the opening of your pussy and you groaned in unison with Mingi when he finally pushed himself in.

It didn’t take much for the rapper to absolutely lose it. As soon as he was sheathed inside you, he lost control over himself. His head fell forward as loud moans filled the trailer and his thrusts were met with the rolling of your hips.

You felt like you were send straight to heaven. Riding the cloud of ecstasy as you got fucked just like you needed him to.

It was evident that Mingi very well knew what to do [don’t argue with me on this cause my man absolutely knows how to fuck!!!].

You were both so wound up that it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up.

You slung your legs behind his ass, urging him to go faster. Your hand reached for his hair to hold onto while your other went down to rub your clit and a high pitched whine fell from your lips and went directly into Mingi’s ear.

His thrusts grew erratic as you both hurled towards your peak.

Your walls clamped down on his dick sending yourself and him over the edge. White hot cum spilled out while Mingi did not stop plunging himself into you, fucking you through the waves of your orgasm to let you ride it and you felt his seed run down the inside of your thighs when his moves stuttered and slowed down.

The pleasurable pain of overstimulation burned through you and neither you nor Mingi had the strength to move. The man let his man rest against your bare chest before letting out a soft chuckle.

“What?” you asked, amusement lacing your voice at his demeanor.

Mingi glanced up with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Coachelly, baby!”

[peachhcs]

blarie and macklin having a serious talk about how their relationship ended and macklin being serious that he still wants and loves her

the black dog

figure skater x macklin celebrini au (macklin + blaire)

when things get serious between mack and blaire, tensions rise when blaire pulls away in fear of getting hurt due to old habits.

wc: 2.4k

first actual fic! in my posting era rn 😻 this got angsty because i wrote this while listening to the black dog by taylor swift and immediately thought the song fit the situation. i’ve included where u can start listening to the song while reading if u want for the effect :) anyways, enjoy!

au masterlist

mack and blaire had been hanging out almost every weekend or whenever mack had days off for the last three weeks. they'd gone on two dates and now it was just a matter of if things were actually getting serious or not. mack wanted things to be serious but he didn't know how blaire felt and bringing that up seemed scary. 

but after hanging out for the last three weeks, mack wanted to know, so he dared to ask after their third dinner date and ice cream afterwards. they were strolling around downtown san jose, blaire's arm wrapped around mack's and they sure looked like a couple. 

"this is always my favorite part of the week," the girl hummed and mack grinned. "it's my favorite part too," he internally hyped himself up to pop the question. it'd been running in his mind all dinner just trying to find the right time to bring it up.

"you think this could become a regular occurrence?" he subtly hinted at the idea of them becoming serious. blaire peered over at him.

"it kind of is?" she laughed. she didn't quite get it. 

"i mean like..you and me. together. for real," mack finally said it and blaire stopped walking making the hockey player stop too. her expression glazed over a bit. 

"like a relationship?"

"yeah?" their arms dropped to their sides and something in the air shifted in a bad way. mack's heart quickly sunk because he knew exactly what this meant. it was the same thing that happened when him and blaire broke up two years ago. she got all quiet and pulled away from him. 

"i..i don't know, mack. i-i thought this was just..like..us hanging out? friends?" 

now that hurt. 

"friends? you thought we were just hanging out as friends?" he was so shocked he had to clarify what he was hearing. blaire frowned, slowly nodding. 

"i mean..we never..we never said otherwise? i-i don't know, mack. we're too busy for a relationship. i thought you reached back out because you wanted to be friends again?" she sputtered, stepping away even further from him and the boy's heart continued sinking into his chest. 

friends? 

"you think i wanna be just friends with you after going on three dates and hanging out almost every weekend and day i have off?" the disbelief and hurt was very evident in his tone. 

"shit, i-i'm sorry. i should've clarified..i didn't..i didn't know you wanted more.." for some reason mack didn't believe what she was saying because how could she not know that he's wanted something more since they started talking again? 

how could she not know he never even got over her in the first place? 

"bullshit, stevenson. you totally knew what i wanted. i wouldn't have taken you out and hung out with you all the time if i didn't wanna get back together with you," the boy snapped a bit, the tension climbing. 

"i-i'm sorry, mack. i..i should go. i'm sorry," blaire shook her head, already spinning on her heel to walk away from him. 

"no, no don't do that. don't run away when things get hard. you've already done that once to me," mack didn't shout, but his voice was firm and full of hurt that made blaire stop in her tracks. she grimaced. 

"run away when things get hard? what's that's supposed to mean?" she composed herself a second later, spinning back around with her own hard expression. 

"it means exactly what i said. that's the whole reason why you broke up with me in the first place isn't it? you got scared because we were going to different colleges and decided instead of talking to me that breaking up would be easier. well, guess what? it wasn't easier. it actually hurt. a lot. i never wanted to break up with you, but you didn't wanna talk or hear me out. you pulled away and ran instead," mack said bitterly. blaire was shocked by his words, glancing around in fear that the other people walking by were listening in. "and that's exactly what you're doing now. you're pulling away because things are getting serious," the boy grumbled the last part and this time it was blaire's turn for her heart to sink. 

"macklin.." she started but the rookie shook his head. he wasn't going to pull himself back into his again if blaire couldn't do it. 

"forget it. i'll find another ride home," he pushed past her. 

(this is where i imagine the black dog by taylor swift starts playing) 

blaire watched him walk away, but made no move to chase after him. her heart shattered into a million pieces as she stood there by herself on the sidewalk. a few tears slipped past her eyes before she wiped them away and threw her ice cream in the closest garbage—she needed to be anywhere but there. 

the dorm was empty when blaire made it back since maya always left whenever she knew blaire and mack were on a date. the girl buried her face into her pillow, finally letting her tears escape in the comfort and privacy of her room. she cried for probably a good fifteen minutes until she couldn't anymore and just laid on her side with dry, puffy eyes. her phone buzzed, but she didn't bother to check it. 

maybe she did run away when things got hard. maybe it ran in the family because mason ran when things got hard too. he was leaving the country because things were still hard. it seemed to have rubbed off on blaire too. 

finally, the dirty blonde checked her phone half expecting a message from macklin, but it was only a text from carter. the girl opened his message.

how was the date??!

it hit her again and she started crying. she was so stupid. 

blaire called carter and he picked up on the second ring. "hey! how was it? you're calling soon," his laugh at least made her smile.

"i think i fucked it up again," she mumbled. 

"what do you mean?"

"he asked me to make it like..serious and i freaked. i pulled away. i made up some lie and told him i thought we were just being friends," blaire explained.

"you freaked? why? i thought that's what you wanted?" carter quickly asked and the girl sighed, she flipped onto her back.

"i did, i do. i don't know. it freaked me out. i haven't been in a relationship since him..i..pulled away like i always do. like how i ruined us before," blaire frowned and she heard her brother sigh. 

"b..you didn't ruin anything," carter started but blaire shook her head even though he couldn't see her, "no, i did ruin it. i ruined us before and i'm doing it again. it was just like as soon as he asked me i got nervous and it dawned on me how serious my life would be if i started dating him again. how we could just break up again if he gets traded or when he's away for roadies.." 

"blaire, you're spiraling," carter cut her off and the girl shut her mouth. "is that why you broke up with him before?"

"we were going to different colleges and i freaked out because i didn't know how it would work. things were getting serious. i didn't want my heart to get broken so i just..i just left before it could," she admitted. 

"i sense a running pattern here, b. you leave before your own heart can get broken but i don't think you realize how much it hurts the other person," carter said gently and the girl grimaced. blaire turned back onto her side. 

"it's just scary, carter. people always leave. mom did. mason is," her words hurt both of them thinking about it. 

"i get it, but people don't always leave. not everyone wants to leave. mom didn't wanna leave. neither does mason."

"then why does he never talk to either of us and is going to ireland once he graduates?" the girl mumbled bitterly. 

"i..i don't really know, but mack isn't the kind of person who wants to leave you, b. he likes you. he wants to be there for you if you let him in," carter said softly. 

"well i doubt he wants to talk to me again after that," blaire frowned. 

"i also doubt that. maybe give him some space and then try talking to him again? if he's never gotten over you, i doubt he never wants to talk to you again," that finally made the girl crack a smile. 

"yeah, maybe. i'm such an idiot," blaire sighed.

"you're not an idiot, but maybe still a few things you need to talk through. has therapy been working at all?" 

"i guess i don't open up as much as i should to her, so no."

"maybe that's something you can start doing? it's helped me work through a lot of my own shit," her brother said and blaire knew he had a point. it seemed like letting people in was the hardest part for her. 

"yeah, i guess. sorry for bothering you."

"don't apologize. i'm here for you, okay?" carter said and she nodded again. "thanks. i love you." 

they hung up and the figure skater spent the rest of the night reflecting on everything and the things mack said to her that might actually be true after all. 

—

she went to his practice the next day. she lingered outside of the locker room knowing he would come out and see her so they could talk. blaire stayed on her phone and just acted like someone walking around in there so his teammates wouldn't pick up who she was. 

the players started filing out about ten minutes later. they were all talking about their plans for the rest of the day and the game going on tomorrow. the brunette finally came out with will who blaire always heard a lot about. she tried catching mack's glance from where she was. he saw her, a look of surprise crossing his features when she offered a tiny half smile. 

mack mumbled something to will before breaking off the group and heading towards one of the empty hallways. blaire took the hint and followed after him. he walked quite a ways down until he was sure no one would see them. 

"what are you doing here?" he mumbled.

"i was hoping we could talk?" blaire asked carefully. the brunette stuffier her for a moment before agreeing.

"okay, go because i said everything i could," he leaned against the wall and the girl sucked in a breath. "first, i'm sorry for last night. that was really shitty of me and i shouldn't have..i shouldn't have said or done what i did." 

mack didn't say anything, so blaire kept talking, "i didn't mean to hurt you like that or..like that two years ago too. i..i don't really know why i pull away like i do. i think..i think it has to do with a lot of things like my mom dying and my brother never talking to me ever which isn't an excuse, i know that. it's just..i think really hard for me when things get serious because i get scared people will leave like my mom and brother did and i didn't want to get hurt so i tried leaving before someone hurt me again. i realize that it just hurt you more and i never meant to do that." 

the brunette's expression softened a little, "you know i was never gonna leave you, right? i still wouldn't."

"i know that. i just got scared when college came so fast and we were committing to schools across the country from one another. i got scared that you would find someone better. i'm still scared of that. when you asked me last night..i started overthinking about if you got traded or something and what we would do. i guess whenever things get serious i pull away because i don't wanna feel that hurt gain," blaire laid everything out for macklin that she talked with her brother about last night. 

she was caught off guard when he cupped her cheeks and pulled them closer to one another, "i'd never find someone better than you. i told you, i haven't even gotten over you the first time, so there's no way i'd find someone else. i know it's scary thinking about getting traded, but we'd figure it out. i promise. i wouldn't just get up and leave you." he caressed his thumb across her skin and she melted into his touch. 

"this whole thing has always been really scary for me," she mumbled. 

"i know. i'm sorry it has been. i promise i'd never leave you like that though. i really like you, blaire. when i found out you were in san jose i really believed it was because we deserved a second chance with one another or else we wouldn't have ended up back in the same city. you're it for me," the boy said softly, leaning in to kiss her forehead. blaire's heart pounded a bruise into her chest but in a good way this time. she leaned into his touch, her own hands rubbing across his wrists. 

"i really like you too, mack. i'd really like if you could reconsider your offer from last night," she said and mack grinned. 

"i have been," he teased a bit.

"i'm yours if you still want me, promise," she said and mack's smile grew even wider than before. she loved seeing his smile so big like that. 

"i'm yours too," their gazes dipped to their lips. mack leaned in first and then they were kissing in the empty hallway of the sap center. fake fireworks exploded around them or at least it felt that way to them. 

when they pulled apart, their smiles couldn't be bigger. the boy tugged her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her torso. "so my place now?" he joked making both of them laugh, the tension from last night quickly easing away. 

"i'd love that," blaire agreed and they finally left the sap center hand in hand for the first time since they started seeing one another.

[millsluthor]

You and Emily had been dating for a little over a year, but it was still a secret, because Emily was afraid of exposing you to the world and you becoming a target for the people she and Bau catch. Even though your girlfriend was a profiler, you were just a psychologist.

You met in a bookstore. You had just left your office when you decided to go into this new bookstore that had opened in your neighborhood. When you walked in, you came face to face with a beautiful brunette woman coming out of the store.

When you bumped into each other, your purse and cell phone fell on the floor and the brunette quickly helped you pick up your things from the floor. And from then on, it was just details.

You had arrived home about 30 minutes ago. Your day had been tiring. You were dealing with a very specific case that reminded you a lot of your unbalanced childhood. All you needed was a hug from your girlfriend, who unfortunately wasn't at home, nor in town.

Getting out of the shower, you heard your cell phone ringing in the bedroom. Wrapping the towel around your body, you went to the bedroom and smiled in relief when you read Emily's name on the screen.

- Hi, love. - You said as you sat on the bed.

- Hi, honey - Emily said and you could tell she was tired. - How are you?

- I'm fine, and you?

- Better now talking to you - She sighed, and you heard the water running from the tap.

- Em, tell the truth, you know you can talk to me - You said to the brunette.

- I know love, it's just the case - She sighed, - It's hard, because every time I look at these victims I remember you.

- I understand you baby, I know you can't talk to me about them, but I'm fine, I'm alive and I'm at our house waiting for you with Sérgio. - You smiled even though you knew she couldn't see. - If you want, I'll text Hotch right now and ask you to come back.

You heard the woman's laughter on the other end of the line and it warmed your heart.

- Oh, love, only you can make me laugh right now. And what's more, they don't even know about us yet. - you said laughing. - But they'll find out soon!

- Soon, soon. - you yawned, - My day was also tiring with that patient, but I feel like we're making progress.

- That's good to hear, princess. I'm sorry I didn't ask about your day, what a terrible girlfriend I am.

You could imagine the frown that formed on her face.

- You didn't mean it, I know and I also know that if I didn't ask about you it would get worse.

You heard her sigh.

- I miss you. I think, I don't think so, I'm sure, that a hug from you now will calm me down. You're my world, y/n.

Your eyes filled with tears, how could this woman from miles away have such an effect on you?

- And you are mine, Emily.

- I love you, and I can't wait for us to show our love to the world.

- You're making me cry. – You sniffed. – I love you so much, my dear.

And you knew that, it was never a type of pressure in your relationship. Emily was the first person where you felt like you didn't need to pretend to be someone else because she admires you and loves you just the way you are.

You spent another 30 minutes when you ended up falling asleep while listening to the older woman singing your favorite song.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 90

Alright. So you might be thinking, pondering, desperately contemplating to yourself a simple question.

“JEM. WHAT THE FUCK??? WHY????” And I hear you, I get it, it’s a lot to take in out of nowhere and that’s the point. Sit with me, peer into the biohazard that is in my brain as I explain to you why in the name of all that’s good I made a fucking Music Video.

So last time on the 100 Days of Junkan, for Day 80 I got very silly and animated a gif of Junko and Mikan kissing. And as I keep saying over and over again, every 10 pics I wanted to go BIGGER. And maybe this is just the brainrot causing all of my mental functions to degrade past the point of no return, but the only way up at this point was in fact a music video.

But surely I couldn’t. I mean, I only have that single gif as experience with animation! How the fuck could I try and put myself through a process that I have absolutely no experience making something as ambitious as a Music Video! I’ll have to do something else. But then.

I had a thought, a small thought, an evil little thought that wormed its way into my head and didn’t leave.

“Okay. But wouldn’t it be really funny if you sent a full Junkan music video to Val without any warning?” That was it. I was beaten, I couldn’t counter that. The sheer comedic shock value of keeping my wonderful oomfie, the one who has helped motivate me through this entire project, who has given amazing responses to all of these pics as I made them, completely in the dark over this, and then finally with no context, or warning, or even a hint, dropping a fucking music video on her lap and running away like I’m pranking someones god damn doorbell. It was too much, even moreso considering I could do the same with ya’ll! 

You! My varied followers, the silent and the vocal, or even better the random fucking people who have been staring in confusion as the Junko and Mikan tag got flooded with art of these two kissing out of nowhere for like three fucking months. I had an opportunity to send everyone into surprise and confusion because why the fuck did I make a god damn music video??? How??? It was too fucking funny to pass up!

This is easily the most fucking bizarre thing I’ve done for the entire event! Did any of you think this was the path this would go down?? Did any of ya’ll see that I made a gif and think “Surely this scrawny white bitch also made a Music Video.” I doubt it! But if you did, my undying respect goes to you!

So here we are. A Music Video. A fucking Music Video, one which I now have to talk about. It took a full fucking page just to get to the point where I actually talk about it and this took me THREE MONTHS TO MAKE, spanning from May 8th to August 1st! 

So here’s what I’m gonna do. First, I’m gonna talk about MAKING this fucking thing, and then when I finish that I’m going to switch over to talking about the actual contents of the music video. This is going to get really messy and will probably go into tangents, but ya’ll have hopefully coped with the knowledge that this is going to be a lot of words by the time you hit the end of this sentence. (Future Jem here! I think this was actually shorter than Day 60) So without further delay-

The Making of Snow Fairy, a Junkan Music Video. Yes. Really.

So the first step of this was obviously, The Music. What song would I use for this? Well initially the plan was to animate something using the song “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed.” And if that name sounds familiar, yes, it is the song that Val’s fic was named after. Now the idea wasn’t to adapt her fanfic into a music video (or at least it wasn’t the idea for more than 5 minutes). I was simply going to use this song to make a music video depicting a romantic journey with these two. So why not this song?

IT’S LIKE 6 FUCKING MINUTES. Not to jump ahead of myself here but I can’t make it any clearer for ya’ll, that Gif from Day 80??? That was it. That was all I had going into this. I didn’t do any other practice, I didn’t make anything else like that gif. I made that gif, took like two weeks to make Days 81-89, and jumped into a music video. And yes, that’s fucking stupid, but you’ve all learned by this point that I don’t make sensible choices. I draw women kissing, scream, and feel endless euphoria- I got so off topic already, sorry.

Anyway that’s a 6 minute song and I had very little experience, even I knew that wasn’t gonna be viable without driving my head into the wall from stress. And while the idea of me dialing it back sounds unheard of given my track record, I did in fact scale back massively.

So I pondered, and eventually came to a quite frankly obvious answer.

(Sorry I could only find an AI Upscaled version with interpolation)

Snow Fairy, the first opening of Fairy Tail, AKA, my favorite piece of fiction. And Snow Fairy is my favorite anime opening of all time, if not just straight up my favorite song ever. The fact that it wasn’t my first thought is a shock. Though that still brought on some questions.

Firstly. What version? Because yes I actually had options. I could either use the original song in Japanese, or the english cover by LeeandLie. I was close to picking the original version by Funkfist, but there was two issues. One, because it was in another language that means I would have had to taken the time to put in subtitles and keep them properly timed, which would have just been one more thing on an already massive workload. The second reason is also why I went with LeeandLie’s version, I just like the translation for the lyrics a bit more. At least in terms of how well I think it works for a Junkan Music Video. So we had the cover of the song I was gonna use, next question.

Full Song? Or the intro edit? Because the version used in the anime is obviously much shorter, and not just that actually includes the very end of the song pasted to a much earlier part of it. So if I wanted to use the shorter version I would have needed to actively edited the song.

After much thought I chose to ask my friend (and now current girlfriend) Yves to edit the song to match the intro version of Funkfists cover and worked from there. Because even if I would have loved to use the full song, that’s around 3 minutes, which for essentially a beginner sounds like fucking torture.

So I had a song around 1 minute and 28 seconds to work with. Much easier- WRONG. WRONG IT WAS STILL PAINFUL. WHY DID I DO THIS- Anyway.

We had our song! Now we had to make the actual video!

Step 1, I actually made a Storyboard, this is the smartest thing I will do during this entire process.

As you can see from this lil joke doodle I made during the process, I didn’t even start the actual video before I had realized I had made a massive mistake, however I was of course going to persevere. The Storyboard took about, 2? 3 days? This is mostly because I had other work to prioritize, and I had to make sure I got this pretty solid. Here it is!

(The file name for this has the phrase "Why god Why" btw)

As you can see it’s very, very professional. 

You can also see there were a few things cut or changed, and even stuff that wasn’t there in the first place. That’s because even if I was going into this with more of a plan compared to other parts of this, I still really had no idea what I was getting into nor how to do it. The scene of all the girls doing their hair was cut because it just seemed like an awkward space filler to try and mimic the actual Snow Fairy Intro animation. In hindsight I do wish I kept it or found a replacement rather than just extending the following scene. And yeah that scene had to be super extended so I could actually time things properly.

As for the scene at the end, the various art pieces flashing in the background (which I will talk about later) were done because I realized without them I had way too much dead air in the scene. I then took advantage of it to show a montage of time passing in the scene itself, of the things that differed from the storyboard that’s the one I’m happiest with.

Storyboard has passed so now I have to talk about making the video itself, i feel like i’ve said some variation of that sentence like 5 times now.

So do you want a fun fact? THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ANIMATED! This was supposed to be an Animatic, and even that might not be the right word. This was supposed to be basically a storyboard with hints of motion, say for the intro with Monokuma which I always planned to properly animate given his simplistic design. Everything else was supposed to be much simpler.

And then I kept. Accidentally. TRYING TO ANIMATE IT. I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU EVEN DO THAT BY ACCIDENT! And like sure, none of it really gets as meticulous as the Monokuma, but I still ended up learning way more about animating things properly during this project because I just couldn’t help myself. It was always “Well just one more frame to make it look right. One more frame. Okay just another- Oh no.” This is the depths of hell this ship has dragged me to, and even if I haven’t had a chance to fully make use of what I learned here because I’ve been busy, Junkan somehow made me into a fucking animatory at least to the degree of a hobbyist. IF YOU TOLD ME THAT A FEW YEARS AGO I’D THINK YOU WERE LYING! Because if you asked me before this year about my opinion on animating, I’d tell you something around the lines of-

“God I wish I could, but I just don’t have the patience for that y’know?” I GUESS THAT DOESN’T MATTER WHEN IT'S A NICHE SHIP?? Mind you this was still when I was under the impression I was going to get backlash for all this, I didn’t care but I certainly thought it would come to me. The hold these two have on my brain is downright COMICAL.

And I’m sorry if I sound like this is me complaining at all, because I’m really not, I just get more excitable and whacked out during these more high effort projects. This ship has brought me immense joy on its own, and making this project despite the exhaustive work it took to do so has been so fulfilling in part thanks to being able to see the joy my work has brought all of you. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

But you gotta fucking admit, this isn’t fucking normal right?? None of this is normal! And I don’t mean that in a “We’re all weirdos for liking this” kind of way I mean that in a “What the fuck is going on with me specifically” kind of thing because what is ANY of this?? I re-learned how to write (loosely at least), learned how to actually paint in my program, have developed a deeper understanding of both myself and how to portray expressions, have just generally gotten better at drawing cause of this, memorized these fucking designs almost perfectly (almost, i know there’s some small details of Junko’s design i leave out and Mikan’s apron can be a challenge at times), learned how to animate, LEARNED HOW TO MAKE A MUSIC VIDEO ON ONE GIF OF EXPERIENCE, made angsty shipping art for the first time, and god fucking KNOWS what else that I’m forgetting. And that’s ignoring that by this point we’re edging so much closer to me being able to say “I’ve drawn Junkan 200 fucking times” any god damn day now. 

If this isn’t abnormal human being behaviour, it at the very least has to be really fuckin funny behaviour, right?? Am I just overthinking this?? 

Oh god, right, the main topic. Sorry about that it’s just been eating away at me the sheer absurdity of this project when I really step back and think about it.

Anyway making the vid, I did have a LOT of help from my girlfriend @sunmellows, who actually does have animation experience. She’s more versed in using sprites to animate, but a lot of the techniques could be carried over to what I was doing here. That segment of Mikan and Mukuro running along past a bunch of characters? She helped me so much to get the walk cycles perfect for that.

She also helped me make sure I could actually show this fucking video to people, because fun fact. I made this on an absolute piece of shit laptop! And at first it was relatively fine when I exported projects. But when I got to the point of being actually close to completion? Oh my god not only did it take hours, it just didn’t even work. It would basically KILL my laptops performance to the absolute limit until I would eventually have to force restart the thing. Which thank god didnt’ corrupt the fucking file. So when it came to the final export, I handed off the file to her and she graciously exported it out of clip studio, and then made some minor edits to the timing of the animation in a video editing program.

This is also why, much to my constant irritation, there are still a few animation errors in this because if I fixed them, I’d have to re-export the entire video. And sure, my current laptop is 10 times better and might not try to invent a new form of agony trying to manage it, but also i’m not waiting like 2 or 3 hours for that to happen. No matter how painful it makes rewatching this video. Cause i don’t actually like rewatching this one usually, I’m very proud of it but as I’ve said in the past I am a vicious perfectionist when it comes to my work, so its hard for me to ignore every issue and oddity in the video.

I was fucking losing it by the end of this, I was pulling late nighters for like a week while trying to work on the last few scenes and fix up whatever I could, which was hard because I lacked a convenient way to just watch the whole video in good quality and speed, since playing it in my art program resulted in constant stuttering and made it impossible to tell if it would really look like that, and again, trying to export it made my laptop hate me. But on August 1st I finished it, I had to stay up till 6 AM to do it but I did in fact, fucking do it. I passed it off to Yves, she exported it after some technical difficulties, and now we’re here. 

It was, wild, trying to keep this a secret. And i’m not just talking the 3 months I had to keep it quiet to Val (Though that was difficult but VERY worth it yes), but also keeping it secret up till this point. I don’t even know how many fucking months I’ve had to keep this quiet so none of you would find out about it, I’ve been anxiously waiting to see everyone's reactions to this fucking video, and at the time of writing we’re on like, Day 76. I still have so much more time I need to wait! I’m probably gonna be a nervous wreck the day this actually goes up!

Would I ever do this again? God I fucking hope not! (the answer is yeah someday)

I should actually talk about what’s IN the music video now, shouldn’t I? Will be mildly difficult because that’s probably gonna require a lot of rewatching, and as I already said looking at this music video does make my perfectionist brain scratch bad a bit.

Okay so Monokuma.

So originally the plan for this was for the vid to be a much closer 1-to-1 of the actual opening version of Snow Fairy, and while it did eventually evolve into more of its own thing (both functioning as its own slightly more unique intro for Junkan but also just becoming a more normal music video) the one thing that i always wanted for this was to recreate the first few seconds of the intro but with Monokuma. When this was meant to be significantly less like, animation-y, he was gonna be the only part I went fully into.

It was a real pain in the ass but this guy was basically my crash course on properly animating thanks in part to his simple design. He’s also brought much laughter to my girlfriend! On discord i have this part of the vid saved as a gif, and completely divorced from the context of the music vid it just looks like a silly as gif of Monokuma flying away. Like where the fuck are you going dude??

For the remainder of the first bit I wanted to include Hope’s Peak and Jabberwock island since they’re the most iconic locations in the series, granted, jabberwock feels very irrelevant in a non-despair AU but shhhh. The LOGO! I wish I had the actual thing in my files but I guess I just never thought to save it as it’s own thing. And I’m too scared to open the actual file for the music video to just copy paste it out of there because fun fact, the whole thing is ALL one file. Tip from the Ametuer here, don’t fucking do that.

I’m still really happy that I managed to find the actual font for the Fairy Tail logo to make this with, equally happy that I also managed to sneak in one more reference to Val’s work again! It is once again the tattoo design, because I just can’t help myself y’know?

After that we hit me actually doing this and for a brief moment you get to see it actually be about as slide-showy as I had initially planned on before I decided I was gonna learn how to do a proper run cycle and that took like two fucking days i think. Very proud of it though, Mikan and Mukuro’s little runs were very fun to animate and I like the stupid ass slide I made Mukuro do. I actually wanted to make a stupid animation of her rail grinding using those frames, clearly I didn’t. 

Oh also yeah this style was reused for the cover of the Day 60 Comic, partially because I wanted to retroactively sprinkle bits of this animatic into whatever prior posts I can, partially because i really could not think of an actual cover for that comic. 

So since I was trying desperately to make this seem like the opening to some kind of Junkan Series (and again that concept for the vid dies out real quick) I decided to just include as many other characters as possible during these running scenes. Not only because it would be very fun to draw some of them in this fucked up chibi style I started doing on the fly, but also because then I could insert like three whole ships that I like. We got the Ruruseiko, the Tokomaru, the Ikuzonobuki because hey someone had too.

Fun fact there was supposed to be a little pop up of Mukuro with heart eyes in the corner when Sayaka and Ibuki showed up, but I either scrapped cause I couldn’t make it look right with the limited frames I had, or I accidentally hid all of its layers and couldn’t find it. I can’t remember, this project turning out as well as it did is quite frankly a miracle.

The train scene I don’t really remember why I did like, full linework and shading for that while the rest of the fuckin vid is just sketches. I guess it was fully still animation so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Drawing the very silly little shots of them going by the train was a lot more fun though, I also used it to reference a few more pieces from the past!

The first shot of them with Angie was a reference to the Day 70 Piece, since I always kinda headcanoned (yeah headcanoning my own art, that makes sense) that it was Angie who made it. Then we got Day 82, which at the time of writing this hasn’t been posted! Flashback to whatever day that Karaoke pic with the Ikuzonobuki trio was on for the shot of Junko watching Mikan sing.

And then after that is the Flatwoods monster part, which is the really fun one because I have no idea if I’ll have drawn anything for that by the time this gets released. I really want to though because I love the Flatwoods Monster and I love Junkan, so why not combine them! Alas, I’m working on the December 24th comic as I write this so I might not have time to make that on time. 

Yasuke and Tsumugi! I’ve given my thoughts on them before of course, I think during Day 60? My brain at this point just felt very inclined to include them in this, Yasuke especially.  Even if just as a very small cameo I kinda just associate these two with Junkan? Admittedly it’s mostly because of Val’s fic, I won’t act like that isn’t just the blueprint for everything in the junkan portion of my brain. 

I also used this opportunity to once more make up for the fact that I had drawn so very little kabedon content in this whole project.

After that this probably becomes the cheesiest thing i’ve ever made. The scene of Mikan looking sad was another scene directly based off of the original opening this all based on. After the spin transition I put a little too much effort into was supposed to be a shot of Junko doing Mikan’s hair while Mukuro and Sayaka try to do the same with Ibuki. If I remember the timeline of events I realized I couldn’t make this scene last until the next scene on the storyboard without dragging it out, so I was gonna try adding other little vignettes of antics. However in a rare act of self care I decided to not make this any harder on myself and just scrapped it, skipped to the next storyboard, and extended it out to fit the time. Do I like this in the longrun?? Ehhhhhh, personally I think I shoulda just sucked it up and just added some smaller shots, but miraculously I have people who care about me and would probably prefer it if I didn’t destroy my body for a music video, so I probably made the right choice.

Those outfits look kinda familiar! Whether because I was struggling to think of a new outfit, or because I had just drawn a kabedon, I decided to reuse the outfits from Day 74! Junko’s was a pain in the ass to animate! Never again! Also I colored the Boba to match my pride headcanons for both of them, Mikan being bi and Junko being pan. One kiss and another god damn spin transition i put too much effort into making look good, and we’re at the last scene.

And there’s a mildly fun story for the art used in the background. Like I already said, they were added last minute because the scene would be dead air without them. However I could have done more little clips and vignettes and not fully drawn art pieces. So why did I do fully drawn art pieces?? I was starving, of course. 

You all know my rule that I’m not allowed to draw any Junkan before the current one on the project is finished, correct? Well guess who wasn’t able to draw any normal junkan for like 3 months because I had to focus on making a music video. I can reread a bunch of fics or stare at art forever but the desperate and violent urge to make more and add to the pile so my brain feels nice is insatiable, especially with the rate I was making these previously before the music video began production. 

Sooo, making some last minute assets seemed like a pretty good excuse to finally draw something fresh. And it was a fucking blessing on my brain at this point.

I tried to do a runthrough of their relationship up to this point, flashing back all the way until their first encounter. Was this a thinly veiled excuse to realistically include a halloween pic? Yes. But hey, that last shot was always planned so on some level I have to be justified in my actions. Let’s talk about these pieces one at a time.

First up, hey, that kinda looks familiar. That’s right, assuming the stars aligned and allowed me to gain the strength to draw the December 24th Comic all on time (I’m 17 pages in at the moment send past me your strength, time travel is real if I say it is), then you might notice that I just took the outfits for this winter-y art and featured them in the story! 

So I did in fact draw the Halloween art first and realized I could probably do something vaguely interesting with a timeline of events, so I realized it would probably be best to put the winter art BEFORE October, because I like to dream of a year where I can celebrate Halloween and not freeze to death. It just also happens that it kinda conveniently fits the current time! Since this is releasing in winter! A miracle.

This ones pretty simple obviously, I unfortunately have nothing impressive or interesting to say on the art itself, more just stuff surrounding it.

Now the Halloween Art. Well i also don’t have a lot to say there either but god dammit i’ll sure as hell try!~ 

Listen I wasn’t fully confident that I would have the project done in time for Halloween, and as I’ve probably said before (or at least implied), while I could certainly draw more art on my own time after the 100 days were ready, until this was a public thing and the world was made well aware of my obsession, I couldn’t post it. It is extremely good luck (and also burnout) that I was able to get this done in time to actually post during October, so I did get to draw Halloween Stuff! But when I was making this?? I saw an opportunity to say “fuck it” and draw something spooky with these two, my favorite holiday and (probably) my favorite ship?? Yes please!

As for designing their halloween outfits I sure did fucking wing it! Yeah no thought process, just spooky as fuck. 

Though something interesting about this art that my girlfriend pointed out is that the way I shaded and colored it matches up a lot with my older art. Since I’m not gonna drag through my old gallery to find good examples the best way I can sum it up is that my coloring style back in the day was a lot more candy colored. If that makes sense? More saturated colors I guess? Whenever I look at pieces like those and this I just think of a bowl of colorful candy. 

I miss drawing like that, I don’t know what changed. It’s hard to go back, but maybe i’ll try.

The next shot might seem familiar, but not to any of my other pics, but rather a fic! When writing my Vampire Junkan AU I decided that I wanted to do an Aquarium Date for one of the bigger chapters, because as we all know, Fish and Vampires go together like chocolate and peanut butter. When writing it I was thinking of when I wanted to do the big kiss scene, and this art came to mind! So while it’s not very 1 to 1, I tried my best to recreate it through words.

Why did I draw aquarium art in the first place? I wanted to draw a sunfish . . . I’m a very simpleminded woman in most cases y’know?

The next image was actually even more last minute than the other 3, cause even with those I didn’t have enough to cover the timeframe of the scene. Soooo, Junko giving Mikan a flower.

Maybe this was her confessing? Asking her out? I haven’t thought about it enough. 

And after so long we’re finally back to me just ripping straight from the original opening this is based off of, and in the original its a very sentimental memory for one of the main characters. So pretty early on alongside the Monokuma bit I knew I should have that specific last flashback be their first meeting. I think this is like, my 4th or 5th time depicting a first meeting between these two? It’s always fun to do, and the one in this music vid I think you can tell was decently inspired by Kayleen’s “Smile” Fic, albeit not a direct adaptation and with like, 2% more whimsy. 

And a proposal!! We all crack eventually and there was only so god damn long I could stop myself from depicting one, and what better place than an ill advised music video? Also the gleam of the ring just made for a really good transition out of this and I’m still shocked by how well I was able to make it look. 

And that’s it! I feel like I didn’t talk about this one as much as I thought I would?? Granted I think this is still one of the longer rambles I’ve gone on, but given the jump in scale I thought this’d be a bit more, excessive?? 

I already said earlier but for as, fucking agonizing as this was, I will probably, someday, try to do another animation like this. Hell I’m collaborating with my Girlfriend on a VS Project right now and I’m hoping to at least do small bits of actual animating on it. Which I think I can do??

As for music videos, welllll I do have two in mind, one is Vampire Junkan (though not in the way you think), and the other doesn’t specifically focus on Junkan but it sure will have a Billy Joel song. 

So what’s up next??

Well I’m just gonna say this now, Day 100 does not go higher in scale than this, I won’t say what it is but its like, normal. Day 99 should be fun though! As for 91 through 98? Well! We’ve got 8 days of Fanfics! I didn’t write anything don’t worry. I made 8 pictures based off of 8 fanfics, with only one repeat author! There’s reason for that though you’ll see. There’s some direct adaptations of scenes, covers for the story, and like, something more based off the vibe, it’s hard to describe. You’ll see.

Gonna try my best to sing the praises of the fics themselves though I worry that I won’t be able to adequately sing the praises of these stories to the same degree that I did on Day 60, so hopefully I can at least convince ya’ll to give them a read yourself!~ 

Here’s hopin ya’ll enjoy the results!

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[leather-n-velvet]

High & Low: Part III

A Drew Starkey x singer/actress!OC SMAU

Summary: While on hiatus from touring and wanting to branch out with her career, Ivy Blake auditions for OBX, immediately hitting it off with none other than Drew Starkey during their chemistry read. As tension and drama brew between the two, can they get through the highs and lows that come with fame and relationships together?

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the previous parts! I'm starting to get a little more confident in this series. This part does include a tiny little blurb. It's been a while since I've actually written anything so bare with me! This is the first part I'm pretty pleased about. Enjoy!

Dividers by: @cafekitsune ⭐️🌙

Previous part // Masterlist

madelyncline

Liked by ivyblake, madisonbaileybabe, and 1,438,997 others.

madelyncline last day/night with all of us together (just missing JD) for a while. excuse me while I cry. 😭

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ivyblake CRYING IN THE CLUB RN

madisonbaileybabe 🩷🩷

user9 they’re all so gorgeous wtf

User6 is that 9th picture Drew and ivy??? UGH I LOVE THEM

This post has been deleted.

Ivy sat across Drew's lap watching their friends dance and have the time of their lives. It was bitter sweet, having this one last night together before they went their separate ways for a bit. Ivy's heart was heavy knowing that she only had a mere 24 hours before she had to leave for LA for some writing sessions with another artist.

She was excited to get back into her music, but leaving everyone, Drew especially, was not something she was looking forward to.

She turned to him, taking in his sharp jawline, the way his blue eyes practically glowed under the lights in the bar. A familiar feeling stirred low in her stomach, making her tighten her hand that was threading through his hair.

She could feel, rather than hear Drew's low groan vibrating through his chest before he gripped her hip, leaning in closer to her ear. "Don't start something you can't finish, angel."

"Stay with me tonight?" She breathed, scratching his scalp, cheeks pressed close together.

He pulled back, looking her in the eyes, seeing that raw want and need within them. His grip tightened around her waist, feeling his pants start to tighten at the prospect of what the evening could hold. "You sure?"

"More than anything."

Ivy’s phone:

drewstarkey

Liked by ivyblake, odessaazion, and 875,098 others.

drewstarkey 📸: Dranks: a series by @/ivyblake

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ivyblake probably my best work yet. i have such an eye for photography, i'm telling you

drewstarkey truly an artist in every aspect

User3 he’s so unserious, I love it

ivyblake

Liked by haley_james, drewstarkey, and 1,088,988 others.

ivyblake feeling inspired 🩵

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TheIvyLeague THIS IS NOT A DRILL EVERYONE

IvyBlakeUpdates MOTHER IS WRITING MOTHER IS WRITING

user1 NEW ALBUM INCOMING

user3 OHHHH THIS IS ABOUT TO BE GOOD

hater1 I just know she's only using drew to write songs

user5 ummm.... most song writers write about their life experiences sooooo idk what ur point is here???

A/N: Please let me know what you think! My inbox is always open! Feedback really helps keep me going and inspired and I'd love to hear any thoughts/comments you have so far or maybe even what you'd like to see in future parts! Also, let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list! Thank you for reading!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi! Sorry to disturb. I'm a quite inexperienced writer, I'm trying to write my first long work and I don't want to just get it out and be done with it, I want to put care in it, so your blog has been super helpful for both small tips and for big deals. So I have a doubt and I thought I'd ask you, if you can't or don't want to answer that's fine!

One of my main characters is a singer but most importantly a song writer so the songs she writes really have a meaning with the story and are meant to get a reaction from her counterpart. I tried a few ways but I can't seem to incorporate her singing very well in my pages, how would you go about it? Do you have any tips?

Thank you and have a good days and holidays if you celebrate xx

Hi! Here are some references and tips from various sources I found for you. Use which ones would work best with your specific story, and alter as needed:

Writing Template: Singing Scene

Part 1

What perspective will this be from? The singer or the audience? Maybe both.

There is more to singing than using the voice.

Will the audiences’ emotions be front and center for this scene or will it be the character’s? It doesn’t matter if you are writing first person or second person. The character can show the reader what the audience is thinking based on body language. 

If the character is singing alone, the audience can be more than just themselves. It could be a deity they believe in, or a loved one that passed away and is present either in physical spirit or thought. Could be a pet or even nature itself (trees, grass, etc) as the character’s audience. They all would respond in their own ways. Maybe the trees dance in the wind while the character sings a melody. Or the birds and bees join in on the tune.

Part 2

Connect a deep feeling and understanding back to the reader.

Remember, overall experience is more important than mechanics.

What is the song about? What genre? How does it sound? Is it slow or fast? Lighthearted or formal? Does the singer have a high voice or a low one, or a mix? 

How does the song make people who hear it feel? Is the singer doing anything else while they sing?

Let’s say the main character has a song stuck in their head. One way to show the reader (if it’s important to the overall plot) is when every time the song gets stuck in the character’s head, the paragraph would stop and a new one would start with the lyrics.

Part 3

Create an emotion profile for why the character is singing

Is there a message you want to convey? This can be shown by how the character sings.

Tone/breathy, maybe the sound of an exasperated sigh would be heard in parts of the singing.

How the character holds tension in the body can really influence the emotion. Are they rigid, loose? Perhaps seemingly overthinking it.

Diction can be shown through how you write the lyrics the character is singing. For example, hard/soft on the consonants using bold letters or capitalization. The character can have pauses and slurring in the singing, shown through the way you write the lyrics.

Breath. Every emotional state has a breathing pattern associated with it. Ways to write breathing for singing would be through body language and onomatopoeia. For example if the character is scared and is hyperventilating: He placed a hand over his heart, barely able to stare into the crowd of onlookers. Wheeze, gasp!  Was all the lyrics we heard from him that night”.

Think about the type of song and the genre. For example, if you’re writing about rock music, the instruments will be guitar, drums, piano. So ‘Her voice rose higher, while trying to follow the raspy, intense notes of the musician’s bass.  

Is this a new song?

If you’re using well-known songs, include action, internal monologue, and scenery description to avoid a reader skipping over to the actual story.

If a song is new or a unique take, you can paraphrase the lyrics in a way that tells you something relevant to the character or moment.

Example: The goofy man staggered down the street in his drunken stupor singing: “You ma-a . . . blue-eyed girl!” He took another swig from the bottle in his hand. “Do you remember when . . . we used to sing: Oh la la, la la, la la, la la, la te da! Just like that!”  He took another swig. “All alone on my own. I thought I saw you the other day. But it was my dreams—” He was silenced by sirens coming from behind him down the alley. He bolted!

Part 4

Create emotion profiles for the song.

Purpose of the song. Is the message in the content of the song or the characters reaction to them?

Songs in fiction have multiple purposes such as giving background details, foreshadow, used as a metaphor, portray emotion or conflict, reflect or mirror events of the story, used for character development, etc. The message you are trying to convey will determine how you write them.

One method is good for when the content of the song is unimportant or secondary to the characters reaction. Simply include a description of the song. Using broad terms, describe the topic and style of the song but keep focus on how it affects the characters.

Part 5

How does it end? Good note or bad? Audience wanting more? Character feeling happier?

Don’t be afraid to end the scene or chapter here.

When it ends, is there thunderous applause?

How are they feeling? What are they thinking? Their posture. Are there any subtle movements in their hands, eyes, and breathing patterns?

After singing the character could simply move on to later that night or the next day. You don’t necessarily have to show what happens right after. It may even make the reader curious. You can show the results of singing throughout the story, for example, if other characters start treating the singing character nicer, or they get a contract deal, or if their depression has subsided. Example:

Intense, was the crescendo as it built to a slow roll that crashed like a great wave into the souls of those that listened. A calming silence fell over the eager audience; they were captivated by the intoxicating tune coming from this slender throat. From the depths of his soul, the lyrics rose and swelled around everyone in that room as if all could feel his misery. In this moment, his pain was their pain and the audience and singer were as one. 

Some Personality Traits of Singers

3,088 singers were surveyed to learn what personality traits and interests make them unique.

Singers are artistic and enterprising. They tend to be predominantly artistic individuals, meaning that singers are creative and original and work well in a setting that allows for self-expression. They also tend to be enterprising, which means that they are usually quite natural leaders who thrive at influencing and persuading others. [Using the Holland codes]

The top personality traits of singers are openness and social responsibility. Singers score highly on openness, which means they are usually curious, imaginative, and value variety. They also tend to be high on the measure of social responsibility, indicating that they desire fair outcomes and have a general concern for others. [Using the Big Five]

Character Development through Music

One device that is highly effective in understanding character is music. Music is nearly universal in its influence.

It’s a bit too easy to just answer the question, “What kind of music does my character like?”

More difficult might be, “What kind of music would my character turn off?”

You might think of an entire type of music or, more likely, a specific song. Maybe a song that would break your character’s heart in two at just the first beat.

Think about instances of revealing character traits using music as a way to show your reader more about how your character interacts with the world.

Music can be explored in literature showing us just how responsive this device can be to character.

Our knowledge of character may be deepened by their interaction with music.

How might this work in your own writing?

Try this exercise, using the first few words from Prince’s iconic “Kiss”:

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE BEAUTIFUL…”

Copy this line, including the quotation marks. Unless your character is Prince, write says, or sings, or said, and your character’s name.

Imagine your character speaking these 6 words.

To whom did they say them? Where are they talking? Are they singing at a bar? Or is your scene NOT connected to the reality of this song at all?

You can imagine that your character is the first person to ever say these words to another. Take time to free-write this scene, and see what happens next.

More references:

On Sensory Language ⚜ Word Alternatives: Auditory

Words to Describe Someone's Voice ⚜ Key Musical Terms

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps. No need to apologise, this was such an interesting request for me to look into. So thanks so much for that & happy holidays to you! <3

[natsarrownecklacx]

Natasha Romanoff likes to listen to Lunch by Billie Eilish btw

I just know she does. It’s definitely her go to song. She’d never admit to liking it and will only ever play it when there’s no one else around to hear it. Oh but you could guarantee that if she has headphones in that’s what’s playing in them.

One day your walking around the compound looking for her, no one’s meant to be home, so she doesn’t expect you to walk into her room while she’s dancing and singing alone to (screaming) the lyrics.

She freezes and just completely stills, song still play away in the background, until a smile breaks out onto your face and you start to dance and sing along to the lyrics too.

The both of you spend the next couple of hours dancing to her favourite song over and over. Eventually you show her your favourite Billie song and the two of you sing and dance along to that together as well.

After that every time Natasha listens to Lunch she thinks about you.

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

Getting more writing done these days. It feels nice.

A little bit more from my current WIP:

Lost in the lines of her body, it seemed that the evening had given way to twilight in little more than a blink of an eye.

“I don’t think I ever commented on just how lovely your piano playing is.” Augustine’s voice nearly shocked him out of his stupor. She cast him a kindly glance over her shoulder. “Is there an end to your talents, Erik, or are you this naturally astonishing?”

He was too floored to admonish her for moving out of position, let alone properly process her words.

“It’s muscle memory and craft that make a good artist.” So said Mama, almost every time she found him sitting at her precious piano. To this day, whenever he happened to feel a little more charitable about his existence, he could hear her voice scolding him across the decades, practically feel the metronome clicking away as she beat every hard lesson into him. “For as much as the world loves its Mozarts and Beethovens and whatever little novelties it calls genius, perfection does not just spring forth from the ground like Moses divining water from a rock. If you expect praise and adulation without practice and failure—” (and here, even after all these years, he would wonder how she thought he’d ever leave the house, let alone expect praise from other people) “—if you perform for compliments and applause and not for the purpose of making music, you have already proven yourself a mediocrity.”

Erik would never admit it—not to his dear Daroga, not to the Shah, not to Charles, not to long dead Nelus, nor poor Mama. And certainly not to any woman off the street, hungry for his money or otherwise; the unfortunate truth, however, was that in spite of everything, there still lay some part of him which longed for a sincere and kind word.

“It’s for the best, mademoiselle. I did not ask you here to flatter me. I asked you here to sit still, if that’s even possible—”

“I don’t flatter people I dislike.” She turned sharply to face him, her gaze locked on his for the briefest of moments before it dropped down to his hands. An involuntary gesture most people made in front of him when confronted with his face, to be sure, but now—why was he so charmed? “‘You play twice as well as most of the musicians I’ve ever met, and I’ve sat through enough concerts to last me three lifetimes.” Her words were slow and soft—less of an intrusion, more of an unraveling. “What else can you do, Erik? Sing? Write music? You might as well be a one-man show.”

“Hush.”

She was far too clever for her own good, and moreover, far too kind. And kindness was the sharpest blade a woman like her could possess. Yet when he looked at Augustine, he once again heard the opening chords of last Friday’s music ringing in his ears. The sound of something strange and wonderful and ruinous. To be a man who lives as he pleases, who loves as he might dare—

“If you must know, I am in the beginning stages of writing something.”

“Are you?” She smiled, cordially tossing her long hair over her shoulders.

“Yes—just the very beginning of a project, if you please. A song cycle. Perhaps an opera, if I end up feeling ambitious. Now, please—turn around and be quiet, won’t you?”

[laurenairay]

what harm could come from one little call - N. MacKinnon

Summary: Can a drunken phone call repair a pair of broken hearts? Nathan certainly hopes so. Megan isn't so sure.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: drunk Nate, exes to lovers, mild angst, some bad language

A/N: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s​ winter fic exchange 2k25 for @blueskrugs! Cait, it was a joy to write for you. I had so much fun using Old Dominion as inspiration – they’re one of my favourite bands and I’ve been fortunate enough to see them 5 times, so this was special for me! I hope I included everything you asked for that we discussed. I hope you enjoy this!

Title from Break Up With Him, by Old Dominion

~

“Hey Megan, what’s up?”

Of all the things for her ex-boyfriend to lead with, after not speaking to her for 6 months, that was it? Casual and cool, like nothing had ever happened? And on New Year’s Eve?

Megan was just glad she’d moved away from her group of friends to answer his call. They weren’t exactly his biggest fans any more, and she knew they would absolutely judge her for giving him the time of day, even if it was just standing in the slightly-quieter corridor by the bar bathrooms.

“Nate, are you drunk?” she asked dryly.

“Naw, I ain't drunk.”

Yeah okay. She hummed, voicing her disbelief, and Nate huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, maybe I do have a little buzz, but that song we danced to in my kitchen came on and I just thought what harm could come from one little call?”

What the hell.

What the actual hell.

“You’re drinking at home. Alone? And you’re calling me out of the blue,” she summarised, unimpressed.

“I missed you, Meg. I’ve missed you every day since we broke up and I had to let you know.”

The rasp in his voice sent shivers down her spine, just like it always had. But this time, he had no right to try seducing her. She wasn’t his to seduce any more.

“We’re nearly 30, Nate. What the hell are you doing, acting like a lovesick teenager? You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” Megan said, frustrated at the nerve of the man she once thought she had a future with.

“It was a mutual break up.”

This fucking guy.

“You instigated it,” she reminded him.

Nate let out an irritated huff of breath

“I know you don’t love him.”

“What the fuck Nathan,” she hissed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I know you don’t love him. This new guy that you’ve been putting all over your social media, whatever his fucking name is. You should tell him that it’s over and then come over to mine. You ain’t in love with him, break up with him.”

What the fuck. How dare he?

“Greg is a good guy. You don’t know the first thing about him.”

“Yeah okay, but I know you, Megan. You don’t want to hurt him, but you’re stringing him along. Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

Her jaw dropped slightly at the unmitigated gall, and she shook her head furiously, even though he couldn’t see her.

“You’ve crossed the line Nate. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you have no right to talk to me like this,” Megan said angrily.

Her heart was racing, hands shaking at his audacity. How could he do this to her? On New Year’s Eve when she was out with her friends? When they hadn’t been in each other’s lives since the Spring?

But Nate just laughed softly, infuriating her more.

“You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. If you didn’t know there was truth to my words. But no pressure, whatever. Just do what you gotta do.”

“You are such an asshole,” Megan hissed, tears stinging at her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. But you still love me anyway. Call me when you’ve broken up with him. Happy New Year, Megan.”

And with that, he ended the call. Megan stood still, in shock, not fully believing what had just happened. What had just happened? Nathan had called her out of the blue, drunk and seductive, telling her to break up with her new boyfriend…so that she could get back together with him?

What the fuck?

Maybe it was the alcohol she’d consumed herself, or maybe it really was the shock of Nathan contacting her after so long with such bold declarations, but her mind was whirling. Whirling and swirling, tempestuous as a typhoon, all because of a man she’d tried so hard to forget. How was she supposed to process this?

“Hey, babe, everything okay?”

Megan jolted at the feeling of a large hand on her shoulder, looking sharply up to see her boyfriend Greg looking down at her with concern. Greg was a sweet softly-spoken man, a gentle giant and true protector, and yet seeing him right now didn’t give her any comfort at all.

“Woah, you look upset. What’s wrong?” he asked.

As if she could tell him the truth.

“Just a phone call I didn’t expect,” she said, forcing a smile on her face.

“Are you sure?” Greg asked, still frowning, “Did you want to leave? We can go if you need to.”

He didn’t deserve any of this. What the fuck did Nate know anyway?

“No, it’s fine. Let’s get back to the group,” she said, shaking her head.

Nate’s words kept ringing through her head as they walked back through the bar to their booth, and the moment she sat down Megan reached for the first drink she could to drown them out.

“I know you don’t love him.”

“You’re stringing him along.”

“Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

~

The first morning coffee of 2025 was nowhere near as good as the last espresso martini of 2024. Megan could admit that much to herself as she forced down a couple of slices of toast. Even a steaming shower and skin care routine hadn’t brightened up the start of the new year, and in her fragile state she could only think of one person to blame.

Nathan MacKinnon. The ex-boyfriend that had suddenly decided not to quit.

Of all of his many wonderful qualities, his timing was usually impeccable, on and off the ice. But last night had been the worst timing she could’ve ever imagined, and right now she didn’t know what the hell to do. Nate really had thrown her for a loop, and despite his demand for her to call him, it felt like the last thing she wanted to do.

Happy new year to her. Not.

But as she finished her second cup of coffee, it seemed like Nate had decided for her, as her phone started ringing with his name as Caller ID.

“You didn’t call me.”

“It’s barely been 12 hours, Nate. What did you expect? For me to just come running into your arms?”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned.

That cocky attitude shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as it was. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was smirking right now.

“That’s the Megan I know.”

“You know how rude it was last night, right? Rude and uncalled for and totally out of line?” she pointed out.

“Maybe. But I don’t regret it, even if I needed whisky to build up the courage.”

The nonchalance was infuriating.

“Pretty pathetic getting drunk on your own just to call up your ex, Nathan,” she said sharply.

“Ouch, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome, sad sack,” she shot back.

But Nate just laughed, that deep belly laugh that was so rare but so incredible to hear. Fuck. This is not how she thought her year would start.

“I miss you.”

That voice. His deep rumble sent shivers down her spine again, just like it had last night. Fuck.

“I miss you too,” she found herself saying softly.

The hitch in his breath let her know she’d said the right thing.

“You do?”

“I always have done, Nate. Even though you didn’t deserve it, breaking up with me after two years because you wanted to be able to focus on playoffs,” she said, voice cracking slightly.

The way he swore under his breath made her sigh.

“I was an idiot. Such an idiot. Still am, but at least I’m aware of it now. And I’m trying to be better. I want to be better.”

“Nathan…”

Her voice trailed off, not knowing what else to say. What could she say, when he was finally self aware?

“Break up with him, Megan, please. Give me another chance.”

It was now or never. As much as it pained her to admit to it all, she had to be honest.

“I already did.”

“What?”

“I broke up with him when we left the bar last night. I just…you screwed with my head Nate, so badly, and after your call it was all I could think about. I couldn’t get your words out of my head and I knew that no matter what, this was a death sentence for me and Greg. It’s over with him. Because of you, I cried on New Year’s Eve.”

Nate swore again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Megan couldn’t stop the laugh that choked out of her throat, thick with emotion and mildly hysterical.

“You never did, hm? And yet I’ve cried over you more than any other guy,” she reminded him.

“That…fuck, I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Bit late for that,” Megan said, sniffing.

“Let me make it up to you.”

His firm words shocked her, and yet they didn’t shock her at all. This was typical Nathan, swooping in with grand gestures to save the day when he shouldn’t have needed to fix what he broke in the first place. He was a mess. He made her a mess. And yet, talking to him last night and right now were the first times she’d felt truly alive since he’d broken up with her. How could she deny what she felt?

Where her light brown hair had been curled last night, it was in tousled waves now, and her grey-blue eyes were shadowed by lack of sleep as well as still being a little bloodshot from the crying. She looked far from her best, especially when it came to seeing Nate, but he deserved to see what he’d done to her.

Fuck it. She missed him and he missed her. How often did people get a second chance with the person they loved?

“Come over,” Megan murmured.

“I’m already on my way.”

[niallerspayno]

Don’t Call Me Love - Part 3

Masterlist

Tensions flare and sparks fly as you and Louis keep getting thrown together, each encounter more intense than the last. As the line between love and hate blurs, will you give in to the undeniable pull between you, or cling to the walls you’ve built to keep him out?

Tags: Louis x reader, enemies to lovers, violence, smut

Part 1 | Part 2

…

The night is in full swing, the club pulsing with music that vibrates through your bones. The boys are all here, laughing, joking, and clearly enjoying the freedom of a night off from the tour grind. Even Louis is a little looser tonight, the usual smirk on his face but his posture a bit more relaxed as he banters with Harry and Niall.

You’re in the middle of the group, feeling the beat of the music in your chest, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. The lights flash in time with the song, casting everyone in neon hues. You can barely hear your own thoughts over the blaring bass, but there’s something freeing about it.

That is, until you feel a hand slide across your arm.

You turn, and there's a guy grinning at you, too eager, too close. You take a half step back, but he follows, his hand brushing against you again.

"Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?"

You shake your head, trying to keep your distance. "I’m good, thanks."

But he doesn’t take the hint. He leans in closer, his breath hot and thick with alcohol. "Come on, don’t be shy. I’m just trying to get to know you."

You take a deep breath, already irritated, but before you can say anything else, his hand is on your wrist, gripping too tight.

"What part of no don’t you understand?" you snap, voice cutting through the music.

But before the guy can push further, you feel a presence behind you, tall and imposing. Louis, ever the protector, steps in front of you with his usual cocky grin, but there’s something darker in his eyes now.

"Oi," Louis calls out, his voice sharp. "She said no. Move."

The guy turns, sizing Louis up, but Louis doesn’t flinch. His stance is firm, shoulders squared.

"You think you can just talk to her like that?" Louis continues, his tone low, threatening.

The guy hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s trying to assess whether this is worth the trouble. But Louis doesn’t give him the chance.

"Don’t make me say it again," Louis adds, his voice cool but dangerous.

The guy’s face goes from confident to defensive in seconds, and after a beat, he mutters, "Whatever, man," before stalking off into the crowd.

Louis watches him go for a moment before turning back to you, the fire in his eyes now flickering into something else.

"Are you okay?" Louis asks, voice softer, though still laced with tension.

You nod, but there’s still a slight edge to your voice. "I didn’t need saving."

Louis raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Didn’t look like you had much of a choice."

You glare at him, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he leans in closer, the smell of alcohol and cologne making your head spin in the best way.

"Guess you owe me a dance now," Louis says, the challenge clear in his voice.

You take a moment, then exhale sharply, deciding to play along. "Fine, but don’t get used to it."

Louis flashes that cocky grin of his, and without another word, he takes your hand and pulls you toward the dance floor.

The air is thick with the scent of sweat, cologne, and a hint of something sweet from the drinks you’ve all been knocking back. The music is a constant pulse under your feet, the bass vibrating in your chest as you both step into the crowd.

Louis doesn’t let go of your hand, his fingers warm and insistent. The heat from his body presses against yours as you dance, your backs brushing every time the crowd surges. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. You can feel the weight of him, the tension in the air between you, like the music itself is pulling you two together.

His hand is firm on your waist, and for a moment, your bodies move in sync, like the rhythm of the song is guiding you. The space between you two shrinks with each beat, and the way he moves, the way he’s teasingly close but never quite enough, makes your skin tingle with every step.

You try to focus on the music, but Louis' every movement is distracting. The heat radiating off him makes your breath catch in your throat. His chest is brushing yours now, and you can feel every tiny shift, every press of his body against yours, making it harder to breathe.

He leans in close, his voice just a whisper in your ear, and it makes your heart race. "Still hate me, love?"

You want to push him away, to call him out for his arrogance, but the proximity—his breath against your skin, his body so close, his scent filling your senses—makes it impossible to think clearly.

"Of course I do," you lie, your words barely escaping through the haze of heat and sound around you.

Louis smirks, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop moving with you, and something inside you tightens in response. "Good," he whispers. "Then stop looking at me like that."

You can’t help it, though. You feel the fire between you, the pull that’s been there from the start, and you hate that it’s making your pulse quicken.

You pull away just enough to catch his eye, your chest heaving slightly from the energy between you. "I don’t need to look at you, Louis," you say, your voice just as heated. "I can feel you."

He doesn’t respond at first, his gaze darkening as he studies you, his thumb brushing the side of your waist just enough to make you shiver.

The song shifts, but you both stay in the same position, the world spinning around you, and you both can’t seem to let go.

"You’re lucky I’m even dancing with you," you mutter, the words barely leaving your lips before you feel his hand move lower on your back, pulling you even closer.

"Yeah?" he smirks. "Maybe you’ll owe me one more dance."

And just like that, the game is on again, the lines between loathing and attraction blurring with every touch, every movement.

After dancing, the energy stays high, and the group of you squeeze into the booth. There’s a comfortable chaos as everyone settles, drinks in hand, and the laughter is almost deafening. But then you feel it—the boys have done it on purpose. You end up pressed right next to Louis, and even though there’s no escaping it, the proximity makes you feel hot under the collar.

You shoot Harry a glare, who just grins and shrugs. “Didn’t want to sit on the floor, did you?” Niall laughs, clearly in on it too. Liam just rolls his eyes, though you can see the small smile tugging at his lips. Zayn says nothing, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he watches the two of you.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Niall announces, lifting his drink. “Truth or dare, with a twist. No backing out, or it’s a shot.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought of a stupid drinking game, but you’re not about to back down. Louis, on the other hand, gives you a challenging look, clearly ready to make this as uncomfortable for you as possible.

Niall goes first. He picks Liam and dares him to do a ridiculous dance move. Liam pulls out something out of a fever dream, and everyone cracks up. Harry’s turn comes next, and he dares Zayn to try and serenade a random person in the bar. Zayn does it with no hesitation, and the girls around you swoon, which, for some reason, sends a little pulse of irritation through Louis.

“You,” Niall says, pointing at Louis with a devilish grin. “Truth or dare?”

Louis doesn't hesitate, "Dare."

Niall, ever the troublemaker, is the one to stir the pot this time. He leans forward, a sly grin on his face, eyes flicking between you and Louis. “Alright, Louis,” Niall says, his voice loud enough for the whole group to hear, “I dare you to take a body shot off Y/N.”

The booth goes silent for a moment, the daring challenge hanging in the air. You blink in surprise, your stomach flipping, while Louis just stares at Niall for a second, clearly not expecting this. His expression hardens, but a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he leans back in his seat.

“Well, if you insist,” Louis says, voice low but steady, his eyes never leaving yours. He stands up with a slow, deliberate movement, his posture exuding confidence as he walks toward you. You can feel every muscle in your body tense.

The rest of the boys erupt into teasing laughter, clearly enjoying the show. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you don’t back down. You sit still, holding his gaze, trying to act unaffected even as your heart pounds.

Louis reaches for the liquor, pouring it slowly down the side of your neck, the cold liquid sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes lock onto yours as he does it, the touch lingering for just a moment too long. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles from the contact.

He looks up at you as he’s done, his voice quiet but with a trace of something dangerous in it. “Ready?” he murmurs.

Before you can answer, he leans down, his lips brushing just below your ear to take the shot off your neck. The warmth of his breath sends a jolt of electricity through you, and the sensation of his mouth so close to your skin leaves you dizzy. You try to keep your composure, but it’s impossible to ignore the heat swirling in your stomach as his lips linger just a fraction too long.

The room feels like it’s spinning, the cheers and laughs from the boys muffled in the background. When Louis pulls back, his eyes don’t leave yours for a second, and you can see the challenge still burning in them.

You quickly push the heat rising in your chest aside, forcing a smirk of your own. “Is that all you’ve got?” you tease, but even you can’t ignore the way your body is reacting to him. His proximity, the way his hands brushed against you… it’s all too much.

Before he can reply, it’s Harry's turn to take the reins. He grins at you mischievously, "Truth or Dare, Y/N."

"Dare."

“Alright, I dare you to sit in one of the boys’ laps for the rest of the game. You pick who.”

A playful laugh escapes you, but you can feel Louis stiffen next to you. The last thing he wants is to lose control, but you’re not going to make it easy on him. Without hesitating, you stand up and sit right down on Zayn’s lap, throwing him a smirk. The group erupts into laughter, but you feel Louis’s eyes burning into the back of your head. His fingers twitch on the table, and you know he’s not happy with this.

Zayn wraps an arm around you casually, clearly enjoying the moment. You give him a nod, but you can’t ignore the heat building in the pit of your stomach as you feel Louis’s gaze on you. It’s possessive, challenging.

Louis leans forward, his voice tight. “You’re really going to sit on his lap like that, love?”

You glance over at him, a wicked grin curling on your lips. “What’s wrong, Lou? Jealous?”

“Shut it,” Louis growls, his jaw clenching. He slams his drink down, clearly frustrated by the way you’re teasing him. The rest of the group notices the tension, exchanging amused looks.

The game continues on until it's your turn again.

“Alright,” Louis says after a beat, his voice sharp. “I dare you to sit in my lap for the rest of the game, then. If you’re gonna be sitting on someone, might as well be me.”

The dare hits you like a punch to the gut. You don’t want to do it, you know it’ll make things even worse between you two, but the defiance in his voice leaves you no choice. The boys laugh, egging you on, but the challenge in Louis’s eyes dares you to do anything but comply.

You stand up, making sure to give him a long look before sitting down in his lap. His body stiffens slightly under you, and you feel the heat between you two instantly. The proximity sends sparks flying, and you’re both acutely aware of each other’s presence. His hand lands on your waist, his fingers brushing against your skin. It’s a small touch, but it feels like an electric shock.

“Happy now?” you ask, your voice lower than you intended.

Louis doesn’t reply immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, and he shifts slightly, adjusting his position under you. You can feel the tension in his body, the battle between his desire to remain in control and the undeniable attraction between you two.

The group is going wild, teasing the two of you mercilessly. But Louis’s focus is entirely on you now. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he mutters, his voice rough in your ear. “This isn’t over.”

The rest of the game continues, but the heat between you two is palpable. When it’s your turn to dare him again, you lean into his ear, teasing. “I dare you to take another shot off me,” you say softly, your breath hot against his neck.

Louis’s eyes flare with a mix of desire and frustration, but he doesn’t back down. “You’re really pushing it, love,” he mutters under his breath, but he’s not about to lose control in front of the group.

The tension between you both grows thicker with each passing moment. As the game continues, it becomes more and more clear that the lines between love and hate are blurring faster than either of you are willing to admit.

...

The elevator ride back to the hotel is a chaotic hum of drunken laughter and teasing, but you’re barely paying attention. Your skin feels flushed, your mind still buzzing from the night’s events. You try to focus on the cool metal railing beneath your palm and not the occasional brush of Louis’ shoulder against yours.

When the elevator dings and the group spills out onto the floor, everyone stumbles off in different directions, mumbling goodnights and slurred plans for the morning. You’re halfway down the hall when a hand wraps around your wrist, firm but not rough, pulling you back.

“Louis,” you hiss, yanking your arm, but his grip doesn’t loosen. He steers you into the shadows of a nearby corner, away from the others.

“Can you stop running for once?” His voice is low, rough, and something about the way his eyes pin you in place makes your breath hitch.

“Running?” you snap, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “I’m not the one who—”

You don’t get to finish. His hands cup your face, and his mouth crashes against yours, silencing whatever sharp retort was on your tongue.

The kiss is nothing like you expect. It’s not soft or hesitant—it’s fiery, bruising, and filled with all the pent-up tension between you. His lips are warm and insistent, his stubble scraping your skin as you grip his shirt to pull him closer.

You push against him, half in defiance, but he counters, pressing you back until your shoulders hit the wall. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring himself to you. You feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, every point of contact setting your skin alight.

Your hands find his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low growl from him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His hips press against yours, and you gasp against his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss as his teeth scrape your lower lip.

It’s chaos. It’s fire. It’s everything you hate about him wrapped up in a moment that leaves you breathless.

When you finally tear away, your chest heaves, your breaths coming fast and shallow. “This changes nothing,” you spit, shoving at his chest, though your hands linger a second too long against the fabric of his shirt.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he murmurs, his voice low and maddeningly smug. His thumb brushes against your swollen bottom lip before he steps back, giving you space but not distance.

You glare at him, your heart pounding so loud it drowns out the sound of the others further down the hall. “I still hate you.”

“Sure you do, love.” The nickname rolls off his tongue, soft and deliberate, and it sends another unwanted jolt through you.

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and storm down the hall. You tell yourself it’s over, that it meant nothing, but your racing pulse and trembling hands tell a different story.

When you finally reach your room and shut the door behind you, you press your fingers to your lips, still tingling from his kiss. You hate him. You do.

Don’t you?

...

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Every time you close your eyes, the memory of Louis's lips on yours invades your mind—rough, insistent, and completely consuming. When you finally drift off in the early hours, your dreams betray you.

It’s him again. His hands gripping your hips, his lips tracing fire down your neck, his voice low and teasing in your ear. You feel everything—the weight of his body, the heat rolling off his skin, the way he growls your name. It’s vivid, far too vivid, and when you wake with a gasp, your heart pounding and your body tangled in the sheets, it takes a moment to remember it wasn’t real.

You groan, burying your face in your hands as the dream’s remnants cling stubbornly to your consciousness.

“No. No, no, no.” Your voice is hoarse as you fling the covers off and sit up.

The faint throb of a headache creeps in—a lovely combination of too much alcohol, not enough sleep, and the lingering humiliation of your subconscious deciding Louis, of all people, was worthy of starring in your dream.

After dragging yourself into the shower and gulping down a bottle of water, you feel marginally more human. Still, the dream—and everything that happened last night—leaves you flustered. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror taunts you, your cheeks warm as the memory of Louis pressing you against the wall flashes through your mind.

You’re late to breakfast, shuffling into the dining room of the hotel where the rest of the group has already gathered. The buzz of conversation stops when you walk in, all heads turning toward you.

“You alright there, sunshine?” Niall grins, his tone laced with humor.

“Rough night?” Liam asks, his voice kind but observant as his gaze sweeps over you.

You mumble something about a headache, avoiding everyone’s eyes, especially Louis’s. He’s seated at the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair with a smirk playing on his lips. His hair is still damp from his shower, and the faint dark circles under his eyes suggest he didn’t sleep much either.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Louis drawls, his voice carrying a teasing edge.

You roll your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But when his gaze lingers on you a moment too long, something inside you twists.

“You look flustered,” he adds, a touch quieter but no less smug.

Your hand tightens around the back of a chair as you resist the urge to throttle him—or, worse, blush even harder.

“Maybe I’m just tired of hearing your voice,” you snap, sliding into the seat farthest from him.

“Sure, love,” he replies smoothly, leaning forward just enough for the others to notice. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Your stomach flips for reasons you refuse to acknowledge, and as the others start laughing and talking again, you dig into your plate with a vengeance, desperate to ignore the fact that Louis’s voice haunted you in more ways than one.

...

The soundcheck is a blur. You’re on autopilot, running through the songs with the band while your mind spirals out of control. The dream, the kiss, the way Louis’s eyes lingered on you at breakfast—it’s all too much. You feel like you’re unraveling, and the idea of letting him win, of him having this power over you, is unbearable.

When the session wraps up, you barely say a word to the others. Your bass is slung over your back as you stalk off the stage, your footsteps quick and determined. You don’t know where he is, but you’re going to find him.

And you do, near the side of the stage, leaning casually against the wall with his phone in hand. He looks up as you approach, his eyes narrowing slightly when he catches your expression.

“Looking for something, love?” he asks, his voice dripping with his usual smugness.

Before he can say anything else, you drop your bass on the floor, grab his wrist, and shove him back against the wall.

“Whoa, what the—”

You cut him off by pinning both of his hands on either side of his head. The shock on his face is fleeting, quickly replaced by something darker, something that makes your pulse race even faster.

“Shut up,” you mutter, leaning in before he can say another word.

Your lips crash against his, and this time, you’re in control. He responds immediately, his mouth hot and insistent against yours, but you don’t let him take over. You hold his wrists firmly, pressing your body against his as if to remind him exactly who’s calling the shots.

The kiss is fire and fury, and it leaves you breathless. Your fingers tighten around his wrists as you deepen it, your teeth grazing his lower lip just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathing hard. His hands twitch beneath yours, as though he wants to touch you but knows better than to try. His lips are red, his hair slightly mussed from where your fingers had brushed against it.

For a split second, you allow yourself to take it in—the flush of his skin, the way his chest rises and falls, the way he looks at you like you’ve just set his world on fire.

And then, with a smirk that doesn’t quite mask the storm brewing inside you, you release his wrists and step back.

“This changes nothing,” you say, your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “I still hate you.”

Louis blinks, clearly taken aback, before a sly grin spreads across his face. “Sure, love. Keep telling yourself that.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. You turn on your heel and grab your bass, walking away with your head held high.

But as you leave him behind, the burn of his lips still lingers on yours, and you hate that your heart is racing just as much as it was the night before.

...

Later that night you knock on Louis’ hotel room door, jaw set, heart already hammering in frustration—or something like it. You’re here for one reason only: to finish the song. No distractions. No arguments. No—whatever this is between you two.

Louis answers quickly, leaning against the doorframe, a damp towel slung over his shoulder and his hair still wet from the shower. He looks effortlessly good, and it pisses you off.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he drawls, stepping aside to let you in.

You shove past him, heading straight to the small table in the corner. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Charming as ever,” he quips, closing the door with a soft click. He’s smirking when he sits on the edge of the bed, notebook already in hand.

You sit too, as far away from him as possible. Flipping open your own notebook, you start sifting through the lines you’ve written.

“We need a bridge,” you say without looking up.

“No kidding,” he replies, leaning back casually. “Got something in mind, or should I do all the heavy lifting again?”

You glare at him over the top of your notebook. “I’ve got it handled, thanks.”

The two of you trade barbs as you work, the tension building with every pointed comment and dismissive glance. But somehow, amidst the jabs, the song begins to take shape.

You jot down a few lines and slide your notebook across the table toward him. “What about this?”

He reads aloud, his voice low and almost too smooth. “‘Lost my senses, I’m defenceless. Her perfume’s holding me ransom. Sweet and sour, heart devoured. Lying here, I count the hours.’”

When he looks up, there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist. “Bit personal, isn’t it, love?”

Your face burns, but you refuse to back down. “It’s called writing, Louis. Look it up.”

He smirks, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Right. Writing. Definitely not projecting, yeah?”

You grit your teeth. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Actually,” he says, his smirk deepening, “I do.” He scribbles something in his notebook and slides it back to you.

You read his additions, your pulse kicking up a notch. The bastard is good at this, you’ll give him that. And the lyrics—raw, desperate, full of longing—only make you more annoyed because they’re exactly what the song needs.

“This’ll work,” you mutter begrudgingly, jotting down a few changes.

He leans closer, his cologne and the faint scent of soap wrapping around you. “I know it will.”

You freeze when his hand brushes yours as he reaches for the notebook. The touch lingers just a second too long, and when you glance up, his gaze is locked on yours. The air between you shifts, the tension from earlier morphing into something darker, heavier.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he says, his voice low and rough.

“Yeah,” you reply, standing your ground. “And you’re a pain in my ass.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but there’s no amusement in his eyes. He moves closer, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning forward too. The space between you feels like it’s crackling, every nerve in your body on edge.

Your hand clamps down on the notebook, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers brush over yours again, and it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“So are you,” he counters, his breath warm against your cheek.

Neither of you moves, neither willing to break the moment—or the tension. The song is forgotten, abandoned on the table between you as the fire you’ve been fuelling all night threatens to consume you both.

Then it happens.

You surge toward each other, mouths colliding in a kiss that’s as much a fight as it is a release. It’s all teeth and tongues, a clash of dominance, a war waged with lips and hands. Louis groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that reverberates through your body and sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

His hands grip your waist like a vice, pulling you flush against him. You don’t even try to resist—your own fingers are already tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, harder. You bite down on his lower lip, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Still hate me?”

“More than ever,” you snap, your breath ragged.

“Good,” he growls, a smirk tugging at his lips as he backs you into the wall.

The impact sends a jolt through you, but it’s nothing compared to the fire coursing through your veins. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. Your nails rake across his shoulders as you tilt your head back, giving him better access as his lips find the curve of your neck.

“You’re so bloody infuriating,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the words.

“And you’re impossible,” he counters, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

That’s when you snap. You shove him back with enough force to make him stumble, your hands immediately gripping his shirt to drag him back to you. “Just shut up and fuck me,” you hiss, your voice low and commanding.

For a moment, Louis looks stunned—just a flicker of hesitation in his usually cocky demeanor. Then his expression shifts, his smirk returning with a vengeance as he grabs your wrists and spins you around, pinning you to the wall. “Is that an order, love?”

You don’t answer, too busy surging forward to capture his mouth again. Your hands are back in his hair, pulling at the strands as he presses into you, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place. The wall digs into your back, but you don’t care—not when his lips are tracing a line down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

“Still think you’re in control?” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

You laugh, breathless and defiant. “I know I am.”

With that, you push him back, spinning him around so it’s him against the wall now. His eyes blaze with something wild as you pin his hands above his head, your body pressing into his. “Not so cocky now, are you?” you taunt, leaning in just enough to brush your lips over his before pulling back.

His smirk doesn’t falter, even as his breath comes faster. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“Shut up, Louis,” you snap, your lips crashing into his again.

It’s a collision of mouths and bodies, the kiss a war of dominance as your nails rake down his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Louis groans into your mouth, his hips jerking against yours as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. You tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head with a roughness that mirrors the fire between you.

He doesn’t give you a moment to savour the sight of his lean chest before he spins you around, pinning you to the wall with his body. “You’re insufferable,” he growls, his voice low and gravelly as his lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin there.

Your head falls back against the wall, a gasp escaping you as his hands slide under your shirt, gripping your waist with a force that promises bruises tomorrow. “And you’re infuriating,” you shoot back, shoving at his chest just enough to give you the upper hand again.

You shove him toward the bed, your bodies tangling as you both fall onto it, the mattress creaking beneath the weight of your combined urgency. Louis’ hands are everywhere, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before his mouth finds the curve of your collarbone. His teeth sink in just enough to make you arch against him, a gasp tearing from your lips as his tongue soothes the sting.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him back up to you as your legs wrap around his waist, locking him in place. “I hate you,” you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling with the heat coursing through you.

“Good,” he replies, his smirk returning as his lips find yours again.

It’s all-consuming, the way his hands grip your hips, the way your nails dig into his back, leaving angry red trails down his skin. He hisses at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder as he breathes heavily against your neck.

When he finally lines himself up and pushes into you, you forget how to breathe. Your nails dig into his shoulders as your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan escaping you. Louis curses under his breath, his head dropping to your neck as he stills for a moment, his fingers gripping your hips like they’re the only thing anchoring him.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmurs, his voice rough and teasing as he begins to move.

“Shut up,” you manage to gasp, your fingers finding his hair and tugging hard enough to draw a groan from him.

It’s rough and frenzied, both of you fighting for control, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that’s more a clash than a dance. His teeth find your shoulder again, biting down as his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, deeper. Your nails drag down his back, drawing another low growl from him as his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin.

“Say what?” you pant, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing and the creak of the bed.

“That you hate me,” he challenges, his smirk audible in his tone.

You meet his gaze, your eyes blazing as you grip his jaw, pulling him down for a kiss that’s more bite than anything else. When you finally pull back, your lips brush against his as you whisper, “I hate you.”

The words only spur him on, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as the fire between you reaches its peak.

When it’s over, you both collapse onto the bed, your chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. The room is thick with the aftermath, the scent of sweat and heat lingering in the air.

Louis is the first to break the silence, his voice hoarse and filled with that familiar smugness. “Still hate me?”

You roll onto your side, glaring at him through the haze of exhaustion. “More than ever,” you say, but your voice lacks its usual venom.

His smirk widens, but he doesn’t say anything more, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You slap it away, pushing yourself up and gathering your clothes.

As you leave the room, your legs shaky and your heart racing, you mutter, “You’re impossible.”

And as you walk back to your own room, you know this isn’t over—not by a long shot.

...

The morning light is entirely too bright as it streaks across your face, yanking you into consciousness. You groan, dragging yourself out of bed, your body aching in ways you’d rather not analyze. A familiar throb in your neck has you stumbling toward the bathroom mirror.

When you catch sight of yourself, you stop cold.

Bruises dot your collarbone and the base of your neck, a few faint teeth marks still visible. Turning your shoulder, you catch another purpling spot high on your arm, clearly finger-shaped.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, rubbing at the marks in vain. Could he not keep his damn mouth—and hands—to himself?

A burst of heat floods your cheeks as memories of last night flash through your mind. Shaking it off, you grab your makeup bag, furiously working to cover the evidence. The concealer isn’t quite the right shade, but you layer it thickly, praying it’ll hold under the stage lights.

You arrive at the venue late, trying not to panic as you slip past crew members and climb onto the stage. Louis is already there, adjusting his microphone, and as you glance his way, you notice something.

His shirt rides up slightly as he leans over, exposing faint red scratches trailing down his back. Your scratches.

Your heart stutters in your chest, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your bass as though nothing is out of the ordinary. Just act normal. No one noticed anything. It’s fine.

But the tension is thick, impossible to ignore. Every time you glance up, you feel his eyes on you, and it takes everything in you to keep your cool.

As the band warms up, the boys are in high spirits, joking and laughing. It’s almost enough to put you at ease—until Niall pipes up.

“Hey, Lou,” he says, grinning wickedly. “What’s with the scratches, mate? You get into a fight with a cat or something?”

Your fingers slip on a chord, but you recover quickly, pretending not to hear.

Louis shrugs, a maddeningly casual smirk on his face. “Something like that.”

Harry snickers. “Or someone like that, maybe?” His gaze flicks toward you for a split second, and your stomach flips.

“Bloody hell,” Niall laughs, clapping his hands. “Finally! Took you two long enough!”

Your head snaps up, heat rising in your cheeks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry says, crossing his arms and grinning. “We’ve been watching you two dance around each other for weeks. Don’t act like we don’t know.”

You gape at him, utterly mortified. “You don’t know anything.”

But the makeup you’d so carefully applied is starting to betray you. Liam squints, pointing toward your neck. “Uh, hate to break it to you, but you’re sweating off your cover-up.”

Your stomach plummets as you glance down, realizing with horror that the bruises are beginning to show through.

“Wait a second,” Harry says, leaning closer, his eyes lighting up like it’s Christmas. “No way—she’s marked up too!” The grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of gleeful. “This is brilliant.”

“I knew it!” Niall crows, practically bouncing in place. “Finally! Thought I’d have to lock you two in a room to sort it out.”

Zayn, ever the quiet one, just smirks from the sidelines, but the knowing look he shoots you is almost worse.

“Can we please focus on soundcheck?” you snap, your voice sharper than you intend. Your hands grip your bass tightly, desperate to anchor yourself.

The boys share amused glances but thankfully ease off—for now. But as the set goes on, the tension is palpable. Louis doesn’t say a word, but every so often, you catch him watching you, his smirk insufferable.

When it’s finally over, you’re packing up your gear, ready to bolt, when Louis sidles up beside you. His voice is low, for your ears only.

“Nice try with the concealer,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. “But I think they figured it out.”

You whip around to glare at him, but the satisfaction on his face is infuriating. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replies, his grin wicked. “But don’t worry—your secret’s safe with me.”

Before you can retort, Harry calls out, dragging his attention away. Louis strolls off to join the others, leaving you fuming, flustered, and all too aware of the heat still simmering between you.

...

The night drags on after the concert, but your mind hasn’t stopped racing. You’re desperate to avoid Louis after everything that happened at soundcheck. Everyone knows, and it feels like every glance he sends your way burns you with that knowledge.

Your hotel room is a quiet refuge from it all, but it feels suffocating, the silence pressing in on you as your mind replays everything. You’ve been pretending you’re fine, but you know you're far from it. The heat between you and Louis hasn’t gone anywhere; it’s just lying dormant, waiting for the right spark.

You’re just about to close your eyes when you hear a knock on your door. It’s soft, tentative, but you know who it is even before you open it. You almost consider ignoring him, but you know you won’t.

You pull the door open, meeting his gaze—he’s standing there, hand still raised like he’s not sure what to do. His face is an unreadable mix of confusion, frustration, and something else.

“Can we talk?” His voice is quiet, almost a plea, but the moment he opens his mouth, you feel a surge of anger rise in you.

Without a word, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into your room, slamming the door behind you.

Before he can even react, you press your lips to his, hard and desperate, shutting him up before he can try to talk again. His body stiffens, but only for a moment, and then it’s like a switch flips. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you into him, and you tug at his shirt, ripping it off his body like you want to tear the distance between you into shreds.

He pulls back, just for a second, his lips brushing over your jawline. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” His voice is thick, laced with something dangerous, but he’s still trying to reason with you.

You don’t let him finish. You shove him hard against the wall, your hands gripping his throat, not enough to hurt him, but enough to silence his words. His eyes widen for a moment, but then they darken with something else, something that matches the heat swirling between you.

“You don’t get to talk,” you snap, your voice low, your hands tightening just slightly, just enough to make him focus. He doesn’t resist; he just stares at you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“I’m not playing these games anymore, Louis,” you growl, your lips brushing against his ear as you press your body harder into his. “You either shut up, or I make you shut up.”

His breath hitches, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. You kiss him again, and this time it’s raw, desperate, all teeth and tongues, as though neither of you wants to be the first to pull back.

It’s rough—rougher than before, but it feels like every harsh movement, every push and pull between you, is exactly what you both need. His hands are all over you, pushing you against him, holding you tighter than you’ve ever been held before, like he can’t get enough of you. And you can’t get enough of him.

His hands roam over your skin as you fight for dominance, both of you clawing at each other like you can’t stand the distance between you. You feel your breath quicken with every heated press of his body against yours. You feel the tension in him, in both of you, and you’re caught in it—drowning in it.

He lifts you, his hands gripping your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. It’s chaotic, stumbling, but neither of you care. The bed creaks under the weight of both of you as you tumble onto it, his body coming down on top of yours, his breath hot on your neck.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his voice rough, his eyes wild with hunger. “Tell me you want me.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you bite out, your hand tangling in his hair, pulling his lips to yours again.

And then it’s all heat, all urgency. His hands are everywhere, his fingers digging into your skin as he enters you with one sharp thrust that has you gasping, your nails digging into his back as he sets a brutal rhythm. The roughness of it, the desperation, the way he moves inside you—it’s intoxicating.

You claw at his back, leaving nail marks as he slams into you again and again, both of you lost in the fury of it. Every thrust sends you reeling, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting more. His movements are punishing, relentless, but somehow it’s exactly what you need. The more he gives, the more you crave it.

He groans, his lips grazing over your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he increases the pace, his grip on your body tightening. You feel him, feel everything—his breath, his heart beating against yours, the way he moves, as if he’s trying to consume you.

The intensity of it builds, your world spinning out of control as he keeps pushing, both of you lost in the moment, both of you trying to claim the other in a way words never could.

When it’s over, you’re left tangled together, sweat-soaked and breathless. The room is heavy with the aftermath, the air thick with the weight of everything that’s just happened.

Louis doesn’t speak at first, his chest rising and falling as he rests his forehead against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath.

Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse, “Still hate me?”

You turn your head, glaring at him, but it’s hard to keep up the act when you’re still reeling from everything that just happened.

“More than ever,” you mutter, though the words feel empty in your mouth.

You push yourself up from the bed, trying to put some distance between you both, but as you move, Louis quickly follows. He grabs your wrist, pulling you back down into the tangled mess of sheets.

"Let me go," you demand, but your voice is breathless, not as strong as you want it to be. You tug against his grip, but he only pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you, pinning you against the bed with a force that leaves you no room to escape.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver through you. "Stop running," he says, his voice low, almost commanding, but there's a quiet desperation in it too. "I need to know if this is real. What we have... what happened just now. You can’t just ignore it."

You tense in his arms, still not sure what to make of the mess of feelings swirling in your chest. One moment you’re furious, the next, you’re craving more of him. Your mind races, fighting against the overwhelming heat of his touch.

"You don’t get to do this," you murmur, trying to push him off, but he just tightens his hold, his chest pressing against yours as he gazes down at you.

"I don’t care what you think I get to do," he growls, his jaw clenched. "I want to know if you feel it too. If there’s anything real in this... anything more than just the fighting, the hate, the sex." His hands move to cup your face gently, almost too tender for everything that’s just transpired. "Because I can't keep pretending like it's nothing."

You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in, but your chest is tight with confusion. You still don’t have the answers. Your mind is a storm, and you can't find solid ground.

"Louis..." Your voice falters. "I can’t... I’m not ready to figure this out."

He looks at you, his expression softening, but the intensity remains in his gaze. "Then let me help you figure it out." His tone is almost pleading, and for the first time since all of this started, you see the vulnerability in him. The side of him he doesn’t often let show.

But you're not sure if you can trust it—trust him.

"Stop trying to push me away," he whispers, his hands running up and down your sides, his thumbs lightly brushing over your skin. "You can’t keep running from this. Whatever this is. I want you to stop fighting it."

His lips are so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your skin. You turn your head away, biting your lip, still unsure of what you feel, still unwilling to admit how much of this mess you might actually want.

But he doesn’t let go, his grip firm as he waits for you to respond. You feel trapped—not just by his arms around you, but by the emotions you can't escape. He’s right, you’ve been running from this for far too long.

“I hate you,” you murmur, even though the words feel hollow now.

Louis laughs softly, the sound rough and amused. "Sure you do."

You feel him shift above you, his breath hot against your lips as he gently presses his forehead to yours. "Let me in. Just once." His voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries everything you need to hear.

Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you feel the heat between you intensify once more. There’s a war within you—one part of you wants to push him away, to keep up the charade of hatred, but the other part... the other part wants to lean into it, to give in to whatever this is between you.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

Louis looks at you, his eyes dark and stormy, but there’s understanding there. "We’ll figure it out together," he says softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let me stay,” he says, his words soft but earnest, almost vulnerable. His thumb brushes over your cheek, like he's memorising the feel of you, as if he's trying to make sure you’re real.

You don’t pull away this time. You don’t say anything either—just let the quiet settle over you. The tension between you both has dissipated, replaced by something else, something softer and more intimate.

For a moment, you lie there, your bodies pressed close together, both of you breathing in sync, not needing to say anything. The weight of everything that’s happened—the fights, the passion, the confusion—feels lighter somehow, less pressing. You’re not sure what this is, but in this moment, with him here, you don’t feel so alone in it.

His lips brush against your forehead, and you feel the warmth of his breath linger there. “I won’t leave, not like this. Not after everything that’s happened.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it carries an unexpected comfort, like he’s offering a reassurance neither of you ever thought you’d need.

You close your eyes, your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. The room is quiet, the sounds of the night outside muffled, but it feels like the world has faded away, leaving just the two of you.

With a soft sigh, you whisper, “Okay.” It’s barely audible, but it feels like an agreement, a small surrender to the moment, to him.

His hand strokes through your hair, his touch gentle now, as if he’s holding you together in a way neither of you could have anticipated. The silence stretches out, and eventually, your body relaxes into his, your thoughts slowing down, until sleep finally takes over.

In the quiet of the room, wrapped up in each other, you both drift off to sleep. The heat of the moment lingers, but for once, there’s no fight, no tension—just the comfort of his presence, and the tentative, uncertain peace that fills the space between you both.

...

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You wake up slowly, feeling the warmth of Louis’s body next to yours. He’s still asleep, his breathing steady, his arm draped over you like he’s afraid to let go. The previous night feels like a blur—passion, fire, rawness—and then this. A quiet, unexpected tenderness that you weren’t prepared for.

You turn your head slightly to study him, his face relaxed in sleep, the usual guardedness replaced with something more vulnerable. For a moment, you just watch him, trying to understand what’s happening between you both. It’s still hard to reconcile the man who made you want to strangle him with the one who’s holding you like you’re the only thing that matters.

He stirs as you shift, his eyes fluttering open, and for a brief second, there’s a flicker of confusion, like he’s not sure if this is real or if it’s just another dream. But then he sees you, and his lips curve into a smile—gentle, easy, like the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep but warm, like it’s meant only for you.

You blink, trying to shake the haze of sleep from your mind, but the question that’s been nagging at you all night rises to the surface.

“Louis,” you say softly, turning your body slightly so you can look him in the eye. “Why did you treat me the way you did when I first joined the tour?” Your voice is quiet but firm, like you’ve been holding this in for too long. “You were cold. Dismissive. You made me feel like I didn’t belong.”

The question hangs in the air between you both, and Louis’s expression shifts. His smile falters, replaced by something unreadable, as if he’s trying to find the right words but doesn’t know how to explain himself.

He doesn’t pull away, though. He stays close, his fingers gently brushing against your arm, his touch softer than you’d ever expected. “I didn’t know how to... handle you,” he admits after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you here, at first. You were just... different. Confident. And I don’t know, it felt like you were taking something from me. I guess I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You blink, your mind racing to process his words. “But why?” you ask, the confusion in your voice barely concealed. “Why treat me like that?”

Louis takes a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the bed for a moment, like he’s trying to work through his thoughts. When he looks back up at you, there’s a certain vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “I was protective,” he admits, almost reluctantly. “Protective of the band. Of the boys. They’ve been my family for years, and when you came in, I thought you might disrupt that. I was scared you’d take something from us, maybe even the bond we share. The last thing I wanted was for things to change because of someone new.”

You stare at him, the pieces clicking into place. “So it was about the band, not just me?”

Louis nods slowly. “Yeah. I’ve always been protective of the boys. They’re everything to me. I’ve been with them through everything. So when you showed up, I didn’t know if you’d fit in. If you’d come between us. I didn’t want that. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your chest tightens as his words settle in. “I get it now,” you say, your voice low. “You were scared. But Louis, I’m not a threat to you or the guys. I care about the band. I care about all of you.” You meet his gaze firmly. “I didn’t come in here to cause problems. I came in here because I love what you all have. I wanted to be a part of it, not tear it apart.”

Louis watches you for a long moment, his gaze softening. “I know. I see that now,” he says, his voice quieter, almost regretful. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I was just... worried. And I guess I took it out on you.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. “I don’t want apologies, Louis. I want to know where we stand. I want to know that we can trust each other. You’ve treated me like shit, and now, you’re acting like everything’s fine. It’s hard to just let that go.”

Louis’s face falls slightly, and he shifts closer to you. “I get that. I do. I don’t expect you to just forget everything. But I’m not that person anymore. And I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

You sit up, the covers shifting as you turn to face him fully. Your gaze falls to the marks scattered across both your bodies—his back marred with faint red scratches from your nails, your arms and neck adorned with bruises left by his hands and mouth. The memories of last night flicker vividly in your mind, and a wave of guilt mingles with the remnants of passion.

“I don’t like the marks, Louis,” you murmur, your fingers grazing over the faint bruises on your skin. “We shouldn’t have let it get that far. I didn’t want that.”

Louis’s eyes follow your movements, his expression softening with regret. He leans closer, his fingers brushing yours as he studies the evidence of your heated night. “I didn’t either,” he says quietly. “I got caught up, and I’m sorry.”

Before you can respond, he dips his head and presses a tender kiss to one of the bruises on your collarbone. The contrast of his softness against the mark left by his roughness catches you off guard, your breath hitching slightly. He trails to another bruise, his lips ghosting over it as if he’s trying to erase the memory of his mistake.

“I’m sorry for this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The gentle intimacy in his actions melts some of the tension in your chest, but there’s still something you need to address. “It’s not just the marks,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s what you said about the band. What you thought of me. I’m not some… outsider here to destroy everything you have.”

His head lifts, and he meets your gaze with a mixture of guilt and determination. “I know,” he says softly. “I was wrong. You’re not an outsider. You’ve always cared about the boys, and I see that now. I just… didn’t handle it well. I didn’t handle you well.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “It’s a lot, Louis,” you admit, shaking your head. “It’s not easy for me to trust you after everything.”

“I get that,” he says quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this—I want you. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

Your eyes search his, finding an honesty in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. You hesitate for a moment longer, the walls you’ve built around yourself trembling under the pressure of his sincerity. Finally, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll give us a try. But we need to be honest with each other. No more games, no more walls. If we’re going to do this… we have to do it right.”

Relief floods his features, and the faintest smile tugs at his lips. “No more games,” he promises, his voice steady. “No more walls. I swear.”

He reaches for you then, his hand cradling your cheek as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a kiss unlike any you’ve shared before—soft, genuine, and full of unspoken promises. It’s not about fire or control this time; it’s about something deeper, something real.

You feel his thumb brush against your jaw as the kiss lingers, warmth blooming in your chest despite the lingering ache of uncertainty. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath fanning over your skin.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “We’ll get this right.”

For the first time, you believe him.

...

You and Louis join the rest of the band and the boys for breakfast, all of them noticeably quieter than usual. As you walk into the room, there’s a collective shift in energy. The banter, the usual teasing, the way the guys throw looks at each other—all of it feels a bit... different. It’s the kind of quiet that suggests everyone’s been waiting for something, and now that it’s here, there’s a lot of unspoken understanding in the air.

As you sit down at the table, Louis leans back in his chair, his hand resting casually on your leg, but the moment you all settle, the teasing starts.

Liam raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, a sly grin spreading across his face. "So," he begins, glancing at the marks on your neck and the bruises on Louis’s arms, "looks like you two finally decided to... talk things through." He smirks, leaning back. "Or should we say, 'sleeping with the enemy' again?"

Niall snickers, shaking his head. "You two do realize that we could feel the tension in the air before you even said anything, right? It was pretty obvious." His eyes flicker to the marks on your skin before looking back at you both with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Had a fun night, huh?"

You flush a bit, the bruises and marks now impossible to hide. But you hold Louis’s gaze, and there’s an unspoken agreement between you—no more avoiding the truth. You give Niall a look, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "We’re working through things," you say firmly, voice a little more confident than it feels.

Louis nods beside you, his expression softening with that familiar vulnerability you’re slowly learning to trust. "Yeah. We’re going to give this a real shot." His eyes flicker around the table, meeting the gaze of each of the boys. “We’re done with the fighting and the games."

Josh grins, clearly relieved. "About bloody time. You two have been pining for each other for ages, and it was getting old." He takes a bite of his toast, his tone easy but serious. "Seriously, though, glad to hear it. It’s about time you two worked out what was going on. You’ve been walking around in circles for way too long."

Dan leans in, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "It’s like watching two cats fight over a toy, honestly. You know, a little entertaining, but mostly just awkward." His eyes soften when he looks at the two of you. "But, yeah, we’re glad you’re figuring it out."

Jon, who’s usually a bit more reserved, finally speaks up. "You guys balance each other out. It’s obvious, even if you’re both too stubborn to admit it." He shoots Louis a knowing look. "And besides, we’re all a team, yeah? Better you two together than constantly at odds."

Zayn adds with a smirk, "Honestly, I think we all knew it was coming. You both have been acting like you’re in love with each other since you met. Just took you a while to catch up." He chuckles. "Glad to see you’ve finally worked it out, though."

Harry nods, his tone surprisingly sincere. "It’s good to see you both not... fighting. It was getting old." His eyes flicker between you two with a mischievous grin. "You’ll work better as a team, trust me. And we all know that."

The teasing is light-hearted, but there’s an undeniable sense of relief in the air. The tension that’s been lingering for so long seems to dissipate in the wake of your admission, and the weight of the past few weeks lifts slightly. The boys are happy—no more fighting, no more awkwardness, no more unspoken feelings. They’re just glad to see you two finally getting on the same page.

Louis squeezes your leg under the table, his thumb brushing over your skin, and you look up at him, meeting his gaze. His smile is small but genuine, the kind of smile that says everything doesn’t have to be perfect. Not yet. But it’s a start.

You turn your attention back to the boys, letting the light teasing flow around you. For the first time in a while, it feels like you’re exactly where you need to be.

"We’re not perfect," you say, your voice steady, "but we’re going to try." You glance at Louis, your heart racing with the possibility of what could come next. "And hopefully, that’s enough."

Liam grins, leaning forward. "Good to hear. Now, let’s move on to the important stuff. Who’s making the coffee today?"

The mood lightens, the easy laughter returning as everyone grabs a coffee cup or digs into their breakfast. The weight that once hung between you and Louis has been replaced by something new, something lighter. There’s still a lot to figure out, a lot of healing to do, but this is the beginning. The first step toward something real.

And for the first time in what feels like ages, you can breathe.

[jjsloverre]

your love- c.s pt.3

part 1~ part 2~ part 3~ part 4~

warnings: suggestive, fluff, mentions of hookup, mentions of sex scene, left on a cliffhanger (not proofread)

________________________________________

these days with chris have been truly heavenly. he came to my apartment almost everyday to give me flowers, or food, or literally anything i ask for.

but unfortunately i had to break it to him that the movie im filming has me filming a sex scene. we haven’t started dating yet but id feel horrible if i didn’t inform him.

as i finished up my last scene for the day, i texted chris for him to come pick me up. he sent me some food earlier, it was the sweetest thing ever.

15 minutes later

“hey beautiful girl! ima buy us some dinner- wait wait! what’s with the frown mama? what’s wrong?” i smile up at him and kiss him. “i just have something to tell you! but don’t freak out please…” at my words, he immediately picks me up and sits me onto his lap.

i felt his strong hands rub my thighs as one of his hands came to hold my tiny one. “alright, spit it out before i actually freak out.” i braced myself and prepared my words. “i know we’re not dating but-“ he cute me off immediately. “we changing that status soon sweetheart. oh shit sorry sorry continue!”

i giggle and continue my statement. “but i just wanted to tell you i’m filming a sex scene in my movie and i didn’t know how you would react and .. i don’t know..” he kisses my neck softly as he speaks. “don’t care, i got to be balls deep inside you. nobody could ever make me feel jealous.”

i smiled at him, even if he couldn’t take me serious. “ok but seriously mama, i appreciate you telling me. and i ain’t gon be mad at you when i see the movie, shit ima be the first person at the premiere cheering you on!” he cuddles me while he speaks. “thank you baby!” i peck his lips and then we pull into a passionate kiss.

“hey so… i wanna make a song about you, like a real one. to where people actually know who i’m talkin bout… how’s that sound?” i look into his bright blue eyes, his sincerity shining through them. “sounds great chris, like really great!”

he nodded and pulled in to give me another kiss. “another thing, you know that hookup wasn’t a one time thing right? next time i get you alone, ima make love to you yeah?” i nodded, smiling against his beautiful lips. “can you take me home? i’ll cook us something?”

chris didn’t need to be told twice. he placed me back in the passenger seat and drove to my apartment.

30 minutes later

as we settle into my house, i started to cook some pasta with garlic bread, chris’ favorite. “here, wanna do a taste test?” i say, holding some pasta up with a fork. “hell yeah i would baby!” he swiftly gets up and lets me feed him. “holy fuck baby that’s good! it’s done right?” i smile and nod. “yes honey, it is finished!” i finish up completely and plate his food. i made it with extra love just for him.

“fuck ima marry you for some dinner like this! come here, i wanna be close to you while i eat.” i smile and sit on his lap. he gave me kisses every time he finished a bite. it was clear, i had the rapper himself, christopher sturniolo whipped and wrapped around my finger.

“hop up right quick princess, lemme use the bathroom” he says to me, carefully lifting me off his lap. “okay, kiss first” he nods, and kisses me multiple times. “there you go baby, i’ll be back.”

chris’ pov

as i got up to go to the bathroom, i looked behind my shoulder one more time. the most beautiful, stunning girl sitting behind me, taking a bite into my plate. normally i’d be mad as fuck but she’s just too beautiful to even be mad at.

i got into the bathroom took a piss and washed my hands. i think about how i’ve always dreamed of her being in my arms, hugging me and kissing me. and now i have that, and i’m gonna be dropping my album that’s damn near about her. even if i don’t wanna admit it. she had me whipped.

i was turning to exit the bathroom, then i heard my phone buzz.

“hey chris, it’s abby. i miss you. i miss us, maybe we can meet up sometime? maybe just forget about that actress girl and we can talk about what happened to us.”

[palaxy27]

FALLING FOR YOU

My nephew found a song I wrote almost a year ago (a few months) on a trip while I was listening to the epic saga (I was new to the fandom), about sashi realizing his feelings (I'm cursi I know😅) and since epic is over 🥲 I wanted to share it. The only changes I made are only annotations regarding how it would sound (based on the idea of the musical au) NOT A PROJECT (not for now) also jhoanne appears too🥰🥰

🔥 Falling for you 💖

*(Soft acoustic guitar intro, reflective piano notes)*

*(Acoustic guitar and piano, gentle rhythm, sashi is frustrated in the begining)*

I’ve always been the one to stand my ground,

No one breaks me, I don’t back down.

I’ve fought my battles, I’ve won my wars,

But you walked in, and now I’m not so sure.

(reflecting)

Your cotton-candy hair, that lazy grin,

A hero’s heart hidden deep within.

You’re impulsive, stubborn, and carefree,

But somehow, since the first day you’ve gotten to me.

but how?!!!

*(Building slowly, piano swells)*

You’re the chaos I swore to resist,

Yet here I am, lost in your twist.

I grit my teeth, I roll my eyes,

But I can’t deny what I feel inside.

why i didn´t see this before?!!

*(Electric guitar joins, emotional and soaring)*

You irritate me, you drive me insane,

A fire I can’t escape, a joy I can’t explain.

I fight the pull, but I know it’s true,

You irritate me, but I’m falling for you.

*(Electric guitar fades back to acoustic, calm again)*

*(Soft acoustic guitar, heartfelt)*

You’re late, you’re messy, your plans fall apart,

But I see the kindness inside your heart.

You’re brave, you’re bold, stronger than you know,

And I’m caught in the way you glow.

And though you hide the weight you bear,

Of parents lost in a world unfair,

You stand your ground, you never retreat,

Facing dangers others wouldn’t meet.

Choir behind (The fate of the multiverse is always at stake!) Inspired by phillyps line in Fish and Chips

*(The music swells gently, blending into the next verse)*

*(Full instrumentation, soaring vocals)*

You’re a hero, though you may not see,

The light you bring, the strength you set free.

Through every fall, through every fight,

You stand for what’s right, you shine so bright.

You irritate me, you drive me insane,

But I’m falling for you, through joy and pain.

*(Electric guitar fades back to acoustic, soft and gentle)*

*(Quiet and intimate, acoustic guitar and piano)*

My hero, my princess, my guiding star,

My cotton candy boy, you’ve come so far.

Through every smile, every tear, every fight,

You’ve painted my world in colors so bright.

I tell myself, “This can’t be true,

Why would I ever fall for you?”

But your laugh, your touch, your daring way,

Make it harder to walk away.

**[Interruption by Jhoanne]**

*(Just as the music softens, jhoanne’s voice cuts in, playful and teasing)*

"Wait, wait… What’s this I hear?

Are you singing about love, loud and clear?"

**[sashi, startled]**

*(A little panicked, wide-eyed)*

"What? How much did you hear?!"

*(Confident and teasing)*

"Enough to know it’s about him... the cotton candy boy~"

*(The guitar gently strums again, and the piano hums as sashi is left with a surprised and nervious smile, realizing she’s been caught in her own song.)*

"well... I... look is not that easy like you think"

**[Acoustic Interlude – jhoannes Advice]**

*(Soft acoustic harmonies, playful and encouraging with the piano)*

"Come on, what’s stopping you?

Just tell him, it’s what you’ve gotta do.

He’s waiting for you, can’t you see?

What are you afraid of? Just let it be."

"Oh, please, I’ve got too much on my plate,

Work’s piling up, I can’t be late.

I’ve got so many things to do,

I don’t have time for feelings, not now, ... it’s true."

*(Acoustic voices intensify slightly, playfully persistent contrasting with the words of the chorus that slowly is making louder)*

"Work? You’ve always got something on your mind, (save the day)

But love’s the one thing you can’t leave behind. (nothing stand in your way!)

Life’s too short, you’ll regret it, (no time to break!!)

If you don’t tell him how you feel yet." (ALWAYS AT STAKE!!!)

(sashi ignores her)

(Suddenly, Jhoanne adopts a more serious tone.)

"Look, I know you’re hiding something from me.

If something’s wrong… please tell me."

"It’s nothing, really… everything’s fine.

I’m just tired, that’s all, okay?"

you know i will tell you...

(jhoanne looks concerned but decides to let it go, shifting back to the topic of love.)

[Warm and Empathetic]

"Listen, even tough girls need love to go far.

You don’t have to be strong all the time."

*(sashi stays silent, reflecting on her friend’s words, still unsure about taking the leap.)*

**[sashi, hesitant]**

"Maybe you’re right… but what if I’m wrong?

What if I fail, and everything takes too long?" whispering (no time)

[ Loving and Understanding]

"You’ll never know if you don’t try,

You can’t keep living in the ‘why.’

So take a chance, and let it show,

Tell him what you feel, let love flow."

*(The acoustic guitar slows down, giving sashi space to process her friend’s advice.)*

*(Soft acoustic reprise, emotional and reflective)*

Now I see what I tried to ignore,

You’re everything I’ve been searching for.

How could I not fall in love with you?

Yes, how could I not fall in love with you?

*(Piano and acoustic guitar fade into a tender final note)*

Should i wite more pzpth songs? It would be just for fun (also for my class but sssshhhh) xd.

[epicfroggz]

Inktober 2024 Day 7 - Bloom

Oh, God, turn me into a flower…

[starry-bi-sky]

finally giving fem danyal her own au and fulfilling my 'danny is an animal whisperer' agenda at the same time: mother of monsters danyal 2.0

i say "2.0" because TECHNICALLY 'mother of monsters danyal' is an au I made back in June for Dark fem!Danyal (who I promptly named Layal). However, I haven't posted much for her yet, and I like the "mother of monsters" premise too much to leave it only to Layal. Plus Danyal in that au was going to become the mother of monsters anyway, just with significantly less world domination and mass extinction.

'Animal whisperer' Danny has been something I've been thinking about since my latest DP 'wolfpack au' post and it's! So fun to think about, and who no better to assign the idea to than Danyal Al Ghul? Who comes from a family infamously known for their love of animals and nature?

Fem Danyal is just purely self-indulgent. *gestures wildly at her* i just lomvb,,, her,,,, I've only really mentioned her in context of the 'Things in Threes' au/my first Danyal al Ghul au with the facial scar, but she's!!! I love her. She deserves her own au <33

So kill three birds with one stone! Make a post about it.

Anyways, Danny has a large lair. Similar to cult leader danyal, her lair is a giant mountain region resembling nanda parbat with a big temple/palace-like area built into the mountain. It's large, it's overflowing with natural flora, with its own mini-floating islands hovering over some areas, and it's also completely empty.

Danny takes one look at her lair upon first meeting, -- noting that it looked relatively smaller from the outside -- and promptly, with the elegance of an Al Ghul, goes "What the hell??" Because yes, while she does enjoy her own solitude and privacy, this is a bit ridiculous.

For heaven's sake, there's even a massive lake in there! What's she going to do with all this space? Can she make it any smaller? Why is it so big in the first place? This looks borderline like one of the mega-islands!

She finds out later that apparently, the amount of ectoplasm a ghost has can have an effect on the size of their lair. And since she has such a large core, her lair reflects that. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, it's bigger on the inside so it doesn't take up "too much space" on the outside. Don't worry about it too much.

Danyal isn't totally opposed to having such a large lair, she's just... a bit baffled by it. It feels like so much wasted space is all. All this flora and no fauna to enjoy it with. It's practically eerie.

She decorates her temple-palace area, transforming rooms to match her needs as she sees fit. In the center of the inner gardens is a massive tree that she likes to climb, with twisting, winding branches. Sam and Tucker have honorary rooms, even if they can't safely leave the specter speeder for long periods of time, even with proper safety equipment. So does Jazz. Ali (Dani) has one too, but he can actually use that one, and Danny brought him to her lair so he could decorate it himself.

She has a personal garden, but for the most part she lets the flora exist as it is. Too much space to cultivate it en masse anyways.

Skip to a few weeks later, on her next visit to Clockwork. She developed a habit of going to see him semi-regularly just because. She enjoys his wisdom, and he has a lot of stories to tell, and when he's not being the cryptic and esoteric timekeeper, he's a bit goofy.

(pushing my dadwork agenda here,,, i think Danny deserves to go 'hey, Lord Clockwork, do you want me to buy you something' while she's at walmart, only to receive a singular glowing sticky note that says 'cucumber gatorade'.)

(She insists on referring to him with his proper titles even for the most mundane of things because it's proper, but Clockwork sees a future where she eventually calls him "Cee" and by all things in existence is he determined to get there. Anyways,,,)

On her next visit to Clockwork, just as she is about to leave, Clockwork stops her and goes; "Ah, I have something for you. Hold out your hands."

Danny does as such, and Clockwork doesn't give out things often, so her curiosity has spiked to the highest levels. He turns away from her for a moment, using his staff to summon whatever it is he needs, and when he turns around.

He drops a fish into her hands. Granted, a fish in a small glass tank. But a fish nonetheless. A small one, roughly about the size of her finger, with a blue-black, eel-shaped body and four sets of glowing eyes. She can see thin, almost translucent, but spiny fins down its back and the start of bioluminescent markings. It's swimming around in circles in its small container.

"Lord Clockwork." Danyal says all too calmly.

"Yes, Danyal?"

"What is this?"

"That is an adolescent leviathan, Danyal." She’s transfixed onto the tank, but she doesn’t need to see Clockwork’s face to hear the smile he’s stifling.

The myriad of emotions that runs through her all at once threatens to overwhelm her, and she can’t tell if the feelings are negative or positive. So she carefully closes her eyes to breathe in through her nose.

“Clockwork.”

“Ah, I see you’ve dropped formalities.”

She ignores that.

“Why have you given me an adolescent leviathan?”

She's expecting the trickster to look amused when she opens her eyes. Instead, he just looks endeared. "I know you're fond of animals," he says, "and you always look amazed when you come across an animal of the realms. So I thought you might enjoy taking care of the young beast, it's mother is dead so it has no one to care for it."

Oh.

"But, if you don't like it," Clockwork's hands reach out for the tank, "I can simply take it back--"

Danyal shifts the tank out from his reach and hugs it possessively. "I never said that. How do I care for it?"

And so clockwork gives her a list, and when Danyal returns to her lair, she sets up a large tank in her room for the leviathan to swim in -- it's much too small for the lake right now, she thinks. She'll feel better if it's somewhere she can find it. She names him Suhā.

Suhā grows quickly, and by the end of the mortal month she transforms one of the rooms into a large pond for him to swim around in. He's a very loyal beast, recognizing her as it's mother of some kind. Danyal takes great care ensuring that her beastie gets quality care, and Suhā swims to the surface to see her when he senses her in the room.

It spirals from there. Somehow, Pandora catches wind that Clockwork gave her a leviathan, and so the next time Danyal visits the Greater Athens, she gives her a baby chimera. It's eyes are still sealed shut, Danyal can't bring herself to say no. She names the little beastie Firas.

Frostbite hears about it too, and not to be outdone, gives her an animal she's never even heard of. Infinite-realms born, apparently. A fox-like creature with two small horns like an impala, four eyes, and tall legs. The name isn't something she's quite sure how to write down, and she's positive that her friends won't be able to comprehend it. She names her Eira.

Getting the three of them used to each other was... interesting. Suhā tried to eat Firas when Danyal first introduced the two, and they've hated each other ever since. Firas and Eira are seemingly getting along. Her island already feels full enough with the three of them on it.

Of course, that's not the end of it. With her luck, she begins stumbling across other monsters. Realms-borne or otherwise. An injured hydra in the Grecian islands that, through lots of trial and error, Danyal is able to rehabilitate and heal. It routinely comes to visit her afterwards.

A griffin with a broken wing that she moves permanently to the island that likes to keep to itself, but tends to come down when she's near. It gets along best with Firas.

A panther-like monster from the Shades Woods that had six legs and three tails, with ends that reminded her of a venus flytrap. It stuck around the heavy foliage and she can only make out where it was when she saw its golden eyes reflect.

She befriends a young indrik with its leg injured, and much like the hydra it follows her back to her island, and stays there in the mountains. It comes out when she's alone, much like her other beasts.

She receives two more leviathan -- one from clockwork, and one she finds herself while exploring the deeper and darker recesses of the Ghost Zone. It was huddled against the carcass of its mother, and she managed to befriend and get close enough to it to bring it back to her island. Suhā is fully grown by then, with a head bigger than Danyal herself and he still likes to stick her head out of the water for nuzzles when she's near.

He's not very happy with his new siblings, but he's not trying to eat them when she's not looking. So she calls it a win in her book.

And it's not just large beasts either; smaller animals begin popping up when she's not looking. Bird-like creatures and small mammals, and she swears she saw a doe (or something resembling a doe) grazing in the forest while she was walking by.

She takes back with her a lone snake egg once, and it grows so big it wraps around her island and sleeps with its massive head on the mountain beside the temple, like some smaller breed of Jörmungandr.

And on and on it goes. Some of the beasts she comes across never step foot onto her island, some of them follow her back, while others she has to carry back. Not all of the ones that follow her stay, and Danny rehabilitates the injured and releases them when they're fully healed.

It's hectic, and busy, and frankly she loves it. Some of her rehabilitated beasts return to visit her, or to have their children somewhere on the island, or whatever it is they need to do.

She becomes a bit infamous for it. She goes to visit Dorathea once, and as she's walking through the streets she can hear some of the denizens whispering while she walks past.

"Is that her?"

"Her highness' friend? Yes--"

"--that's the one--"

"--Mother of monsters--"

Danny's not sure how to feel about that.

Although, she can't say she's opposed.

Danyal Al Ghul, Mother of monsters, raiser of beasts. It has a nice ring to it.