#he just fails to read roman in the moment of it in the way that roman can usually read him

[theesteppenwolf]

Some thoughts on Inner Demons

So i have been thinking about this and i do actually like the idea that Lucanis can't have Rook exist in his mind prison because it fucks up his entire inner narrative of basically just self flagellation. "If rook exists then at some point i have to get out" so just delete rook from the scenario. I think that's really good.

However, i think it would've been better if a part of Lucanis actually was trying to get out, at least involuntarily, and that Rook was the personification of that idea, constantly trying to break himself out but ultimately failing. So ''Rook'' exists somewhere in there but is heavily suppressed. That's why Spite seeks real life Rook out. Not to mention that even if not romanced Rook is pretty much the closest person he has at that point, his only other true friend he's had beside Illario so it makes even more sense for them to be this comforting idea he just can't accept fully.

So you see glimpses of Rook, the sound of their voice, or maybe more notes about them, especially if you are romancing him it seems like a big waste of an opportunity to not utilize Rook for a bigger showing of his inner struggle and fear to try and live some kind of life.

The Neve thing is a bit weird when romancing him, i do understand this complaint and the way Spite phrases it does come off as romantic interest specific to her. I think Neve should absolutely stay as both her and Lucanis seem like good friends regardless of romance but it would've been been better (if the player is romancing Lucanis) for Neve to maybe use Lucanis' feelings for Rook against them here. Implying guilt about Rook, leading them on etc. rather than make it specifically about Neve.

There are plenty of little things like this that would make the quest a bit more impactful overall because this is a pretty short quest for something that is essentially meant to be a psychological deep dive into Lucanis. Just more notes and those reworked Neve lines would make it more way more immersive to the player.

In my opinion this should've been a way bigger and more important part of his personal quest, i think they should've really leaned into the whole ''fighting to get him out of his own head'' idea. Adding things like Lucanis' actual memories of Caterina as the abuser she was and moments of genuine brotherly love Lucanis has for Illario. It would've also made up for the fact that you don't learn anything very personal about him the entire game.

Listen, I have whole rewrites to how his personal quest should've gone, it's really my roman empire at this point. This quest is such a good way for Rook to get real vulnerability from him that wouldn't've shown up in real life due to his introverted and closed off nature.

Again my conclusion of Lucanis being a very scraped up character continues as i find my ideas to be pretty easy to come up with implementations for the kind of thing they are trying to pull of in this specific mission.

But oh well, so it goes. Kind of got rambly for a minute there, thank you kindly for reading :P

[pynkhues]

Something about Roman telling Kendall that he fucked it in 3.09 diffusing the tension, and Kendall telling Roman he fucked it in 4.09 as adding to it, something about Kendall finding a type of release in failure because at least it means he tried vs Roman finding a condemnation in failure because it means he tried and it wasn't enough.

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + two

authors note: well, friends. we've done it again. this is going to be a short series. if you're unaware, it's yet another au based off "looking through your eyes."

need to catch up? read part one HERE.

warnings: fluff, angst and smut

words: 8k (don't ask)

“Remind me again what you know about this guy?”

It’s a valid question. One Solana has no answer to despite the understanding of and behind it.

She shakes her head, once again throwing aside another failed option for a dress, earning another look of disagreement from her best friend and older sister, Yolanda. 

Six years apart, while they weren’t the closest when they were younger, with Solana now being a mother and no longer just an aunt to her niece and nephew, she's found herself growing closer to her older sister.

Something about motherhood being a thing for both of them creating a bond. 

Not to mention, while they haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, in her hardest moments, Solana has been able to lean on her big sister. Hence why she’s packed up her daughter and a couple of different options for her date tonight with Roman and ventured over to her sister’s place.

It would have probably been easier for her to just invite Yolanda over to her apartment, but given that Trick, Solana’s brother-in-law, offered to swing by her place and pick her, along with Soraya staying with them for the evening, it just worked out better that way.

Plus, Yolanda has always been much better with makeup, fashion and things of the sort.

“His name is Roman, and he’s nice.”

Yolanda rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s so much.”

“He’s older.”

Yolanda’s gaze becomes a bit more suspicious. “How old?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. 30s.” The gray in Roman’s beard would indicate he may even be in his forties, but looks wise, he just doesn’t appear that old. He must work a stressful job. Has to be given how wealthy he appears. Rich people seem to always be stressed about one thing or another. Even if it’s a trivial matter that’s very much first world problems. 

Yolanda nods, clearly pleased by the answer, finding the age gap agreeable. “And how did you meet him?”

Solana shrugs. “I told you. At work.”

“At that uppity ass restaurant?”

Solana rolls her eyes, grabbing another dress off the bed. “The one that helps me pay my bills.” Barely. “Yes.”

Yolanda is dedicated to staying on this topic. “So, he just walked up to you and asked you on a date while you had Raya on your hip?”

Solana fiddles with the dress in her hand. “Not exactly…..”

She had to be pacing across her room for a good half hour, cell phone in one hand, folded piece of paper in the other. The little piece of paper that she found wrapped up with the stack of money given to her by Roman exactly three days prior.

A piece of paper with a seven digit number written on it. Dashes and all. A phone number.

His phone number.

She’s thought about it on and off for the past three days, too. Considered throwing it away, considered calling it, texting it even. So many options, and none seemed like the right one.

Why would a man like him give someone like her his number? While on a date, nonetheless? Granted, given from what she saw of their interactions on said date, Solana wouldn’t be surprised if it was the first and last.

And it’s not like there was a wedding ring on either of their fingers. 

So……

It’s why she acts based on that fleeting moment of courage, deciding to bite the bullet and dial the number while Raya sleeps peacefully in her crib. 

It takes another five minutes between the time she dials the number and when she hits send. Her heart is practically beating out of her chest at each daunting ringing on the other end. 

“Hello.” And right away, Solana is regretting her decision. He sounds irritated. 

“Hi.” She clears her throat. “Umm, I—”

“Solana?” And just like that, his tone has shifted into something entirely different. Kinder, almost.

“Yeah, ummm, is this a bad time?”

A deep chuckle on the other end of the phone. “No. Not at all.” It certainly doesn’t sound that way, but she’s not about to call him out on the incongruence. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Not if?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

She swallows. He’s so confident. “I—I just didn’t—I wasn’t sure if it was—it was an accident.” And as soon as it comes out, she’s slapping her face as she continues to wear a hole into the floor. What a stupid thing to say. 

Another deep chuckle. His voice is so damn sexy. “You think I accidentally gave you my number?”

“I just…..” A glance at the photo on her nightstand, one of the first photos taken of her and Soraya when she was born, triggers the elephant in the room. “I have a baby.”

“I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. “Look, I’m not a phone person. I prefer to discuss things face to face.” Solana’s stomach twists.“What are you doing Friday night?”

And the twisting intensifies, because there’s no way he’s asking her out?

He can’t be…..right?

She clears her throat, offering an answer that’s not entirely true but not entirely false either. “I—I have to work.” She technically hasn’t picked up the shift yet, but it’s bound to happen. Among other things. Catch up on schoolwork. Be a mom. Stress over bills. Nightly scheduled mental breakdown. The usual. 

“Not anymore,” he says it so easily, like it’s a simple thing that shouldn’t even need to be discussed. “I’ll give you whatever you make in a night.”

Solana laughs, waiting for him to also join in. He doesn't. “Shit, are you—are you serious?”

“Send me your address. I’ll have a car come pick you up.”

And that was all she wrote, hence how Solana ended up in the position she’s in now, readying for her date with a Mr. Roman Reigns.

A knock on the door interrupts her, Heaven, Solana's ten year-old niece walking in, her eyes lighting up when she sees the dress. "It's so pretty!"

Solana smiles, "thank you, baby."

Heaven's eyes crinkle with a sense of playful mischief as she walks over by her mom, sitting on her lap and asks, "are you going on a date?"

Solana and Yolanda share a laugh, the elder sister answering, "she sure is, Heav."

Solana readies to ask her niece a question when Heaven beats her to it. "Is he gonna be Raya's new dad?"

It's unexpected, as are a lot of questions for kids. But, it's still something that gives her pause, makes Solana sad for a second. Cruz doesn't need to be anyone's father. Raya isn't missing out on anything with him, but the innocent question does stir up some deeply rooted fears.

If Raya will suffer from growing up without a father at all?

Granted, it's hard for Solana to justify the alternative. Her father was in her life, and look how that turned out.

Yolanda is wise and helpful, redirecting her daughter, "baby, did you need something??"

Heaven is young enough to not see the innocent subterfuge, instead asking her initial question. “What time is grandpa coming over?”

Solana’s head snaps up as she looks at her sister through the mirror. Yolanda’s pretty face is painted in guilt as she clears her throat, quietly asking Heaven to complete some made up task, resulting in them being alone.

“Sola…..”

“Is he coming over tonight?”

“Sola—”

“Answer the question, Yolanda.”

Yolanda swallows, defeat overcoming her. “Yes.”

Solana scoffs, partially in disbelief, mostly pissed the fuck off. Shaking her head, she throws the dress down on the bed and grabs her bag, angrily stuffing them in said bag. “Forget it. I’ll see if Kayden can keep Raya.”

Yolanda’s shoulder drops as she shakes her head. “Solana, you’re being ridiculous. He’s our da—”

“Do not call him that,” Solana snaps. “He’s your dad. He’s nothing to me.” She continues to pack away the clothes, the sting of betrayal fueling her actions. “I can’t believe you would try this shit. You know I don’t want him meeting Soraya.”

She sighs, trying to explain herself. “I wouldn’t have let him—”

“Bullshit,” Solana cuts her off, swinging the bag over her shoulder. “When are you going to learn to respect my wishes? I don’t want anything to do with him! The same way he didn’t want anything to do with me!”

“You’re so dramatic. Acting like he was never there.”

“And you’re acting like he was father of the freaking year,” Solana snaps before scoffing bitterly. “Oh wait, he was. For you. It was just when I rolled around he decided he was done with fatherhood.”

Yolanda’s pretty eyes flash with a slice of guilt, but not enough to cause her to confess her wrongdoing. “Solana, he wants to make things right with yo—”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I don’t want anything to do with him,” Solana vows, gathering her bag of clothing that holds her wallet, her phone stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans as she walks out of the room, down the hall, and in TJ’s bedroom where the crib is.

“Hi, baby…..” Solana apologizes as she lifts a sleeping Soraya out of the crib, grateful when her sweet daughter remains asleep. Solana kisses the side of her head and bypasses her sister who stands in the hall, following her out and into the living room. 

Solana finds her brother-in-law sitting on the sofa, watching ESPN. 

“Trick, can you drop me off at Kayden’s place?”

Yolanda is behind her, frustration in her voice. “Solana, you’re being childish.”

Solana ignores her, focusing on her request. “Please?”

She sees the way Trick’s confused expression lifts from her to behind her, Yolanda most likely nodding to give him the sign off. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shuts off the television and stands up. “Of course, sis.”

Solana mumbles a thank you and ops to stand outside and wait on the porch. She’s too livid with Yolanda to be around her right now. 

She just hopes and prays that this isn’t a bad sign for the evening to come.

—-------

Le Bernardin

A fancy, rich, upscale restaurant. The type where people pay thousands of dollars just for a reservation. Solana had actually applied for a job there, overhearing the pay was a fraction above minimum wage. Only for them to take one look at her and send her on her merry way, less than ten minutes into the interview.

So, it’s a bit of a full circle moment when the SUV pulls up in front of said restaurant, and she realizes the same place that turned her away as a waitress is exactly where she’ll be dining this evening. 

God really does have a sense of humor.

Solana is taken back yet again as she is escorted into the restaurant only to see it completely vacant. There’s a couple of workers, and….and him. 

Roman Reigns.

Somehow, someway, he looks different. Better than before. Bigger. If that’s even possible. 

The closer she gets to him, the more she takes in his appearance. Dress pants, nice shoes, short sleeved, dark blue shirt that hugs his bulging muscles. That beautiful hair pulled back into a bun. Expensive watch on his wrist. And eyes glued directly onto her.

Solana suddenly feels severely underdressed, regretting letting Kayden talk her into wearing the short orange dress and gold heels she eventually settled on after a good half an hour of going back and forth on options.

But, it’s when she’s directly in front of him, his lips curling into a smug smile that the second guessing wanes ever so slightly.

He looks far from disinterested. 

“You look even more beautiful when you’re all done up.” 

It’s hard not to smile at such a compliment coming from such a man.

“Thank you…..” She looks around, nervously gripping her clutch. “Are we the only—”

“I rented it out for us for the night.” Her eyes widening make him chuckle as he moves to pull out her chair for her. “You could say I’m a bit of a private person.”

Solana swallows, still confused but moving to sit down. “How…..how did you?”

“Money talks,” is his simple answer as he sits across from her, motioning for the men who escorted her in the restaurant to leave. “I’m glad you came.”

In a weird sort of way, she is too. Even if she’s not entirely sure why. “I—I wasn’t sure at first.” 

He looks curious. “Why?”

Shrugging, she pushes a string of hair that’s escaped her updo behind her ear. “That woman you were with…..”

Roman rolls his eyes. “She’s irrelevant.”

“Not irrelevant enough for you to not take on a date.” It comes out before she even realizes it. Solana slaps her hand over her face. “I’m so sor—”

“I’ve known her since I was a teenager. We…..mess around from time to time.”

Solana grows quiet. She gets it. He’s handsome. That woman was stunning. It makes sense that attractive people like to fuck other attractive people.

“But, she’s not….she’s not your girlfriend?” Because as handsome and nice as Roman seems, that’s one thing she could never do or get behind. Being the other woman.

“Not at all.” His answer is a lot more relieving than she’d like to admit. “So, can I ask about your daughter’s father?” He skips to the real question. “He still in the picture?”

Solana shakes her head, waiting for the waiter who just walked up to finish pouring the champagne before she answers. “No.” Solana takes a sip, eyes closing, missing the relief that flashes in his eyes. “He—he abandoned her and me.” 

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t necessarily sound it, but regardless, it doesn’t make a difference.

“I’m not,” she shrugs, being more honest than what’s characteristic for her. “He’s a piece of shit who left me when he found out I was pregnant, showed back up a month after she was born because he assumed I put her up for adoption and left again when he realized I was keeping her.” Solana ends on the bitter but honest note. “I’m glad he’s not in her life. He’d only end up hurting her.”

Flashbacks of her own daddy issues flood in, forcing her to confront the fact that she’s probably just overshared. A lot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not wrong. Kids need stability.” He says it so easily, Solana wondering if there’s a story there. “How old is she?”

The question brings the smile back to her face. “11 months. She’ll be a year next month.” Solana can’t believe how time has gone by. It feels like only yesterday she was welcoming her sweet daughter into the world, and now she’s about to be one. Time truly does fly. “I’m sorry, I keep talking.”

“I think I could listen to you talk all night and never get tired.” Their eyes lock, Solana shifts in her seat. His gaze is intense and burning and has her cheeks reddening. “Tell me more.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

She looks away, briefly distracted, wondering just how much the chandelier above their table costs. Probably more than she’s even made in her working life. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m—I’m 26. I—I have a child. An older sister. She’s married with two kids. I—I’m really close with my mom and my sister…..usually.” She chuckles, adding, “I work two jobs, and I go to school full time.”

He seems intrigued by that last part. “What are you studying?”

“I’m getting my masters in nursing, specifically for FNP. I wanna be a family nurse practitioner.”

“Will be,” he corrects, complementing, “that’s impressive.”

“Maybe.” If only she felt as sure as he sounds. Still, she's appreciative of the kind words and says as much. “Thank you. My—my mom is a nurse. My sister is an RN. Mami wanted to be an NP, but she got pregnant with me right when she started grad school and just couldn’t handle both, so she dropped out.” Solana swallows. “I want to do it for her. For me, too, of course. But her and Raya.” His slight confusion makes her smile as she clarifies, “Soraya’s nickname is Raya.”

Roman makes a sound, acknowledging, “your face lights up when you talk about her.”

The smile is unavoidable. “She’s my heart.” Emotion builds up as she finds herself sharing, “I had just moved back here from Cali when I found out I was pregnant with her, and it….it’s weird, but I—I needed her at that time. I needed her to help me heal.” Solana finds herself subconsciously rubbing at the horizontal scar on the palm of her right hand.

A battle scar.

Most of what she's shared with this man would probably rank pretty high up there on anyone’s list of shit not to say on a first date, probably cementing this being a one and done thing. And, it’s not intentional. At all. She just finds herself opening up to Roman in a way she hasn’t opened up to any man.

Ever.

And, it confuses the mess out of her.

If he's curious about the unspoken story, he doesn’t express as such, just offers her a path to deflection. “Well, I’m sure you have questions for me.”

She does. “What do you do?”

He smiles at her, and she feels her insides melting away. He’s such a beautiful man. “Business exec. I do buyout leveraging. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m also into real estate.” 

She nods, assessing the still vacant room, like she’s just waiting for other guests to arrive, even though he’s made it clear that won’t be happening. “I guess…..I guess you do well for yourself.”

He makes a face. “You could say that.” 

She’s most definitely saying that. 

“What about your family? Do you have any kids?”

“No kids. I have a twin sister. Parents are still alive, but that’s…..complicated.” 

Solana picks up on the almost tension that rises in him at the ending part, the way his eyes briefly dart away.

“I get that…..” Because she does. Oh, she does. “Are you close with your sister?”

Solana is relieved to see that pearly white smile return. “Depends on the day.”

She giggles. “I agree. My sister is my best friend, but she’s also a thorn in my side sometimes.”

“Is that who’s watching your daughter?”

“She was supposed to,” Solana chuckles, elbows on the table. “But, it ended up being a thorn day, so she’s with her godmother.”

He nods, asking, “what time do you need to be back?”

Solana starts to answer while pulling out her phone, “I put her down for bed a little early, so…..” Glancing at the time on the phone, seeing that it’s quarter to 7pm, she shrugs and shares, “I just need to be home by midnight.”

He makes a sound. “That’s a decent amount of time.”

Curious, she finds herself asking, “For what?”

“Whatever you want.” And it’s the way he’s looking at her, how his eyes briefly drop to her chest, the small smirk on his face that there’s definitely something he wants, too. “Or whoever.”

—-----

Straddling Roman Reign’s lap in the back of the SUV that’s currently driving them to his penthouse isn’t exactly how Solana pictured this evening playing out. Even if it was predicted by her annoyingly accurate best friend.

“Ten bucks says you get fucked tonight.”

It was laughable at the time. Solana has never been one to sleep around. Cruz was her first everything. First kiss. First boyfriend. First time. Hell, the father of her first child. She’s never been with another man except for him, never really saw it for or in her to try out different men.

It’s why Roman currently sucking on her neck as his big hand palms her ass through her dress has her thrown for a loop. This isn’t her. At all. And yet, there’s not a single part of her that wants to stop, wants to push him away, to tell him no.

She just finds herself smashing her lips back onto his, the two continuing to tongue each other down until they reach their destination.

His hand closed around her, Solana is trying to gather herself as he leads them into the building to the private elevator. The distraction of his lips on her pulling her from taking in the fact that this man seems to be surrounded by security. Men guarding the SUV as they walked in the building. Men in the lobby of said penthouse. Men in the restauraunt.

Just guards everyone.

Solana chalks it up to a rich people thing. 

Especially when she steps foot into his penthouse.

“Holy shit…..” The interior is dark and sleek. Some shades of red and blue strewn about. It all feels so expensive. “I can’t believe this is where you liv—”

“I’m not gon’ lie, I’m not listening to a damn thing you’re saying right now.” It’s a combination of brutal honesty and a strain of frustration, Solana turning around to see he’s inching towards her. “All I can think about is getting you naked and face down, ass up on my bed.”

She closes her eyes the minute he’s right before her, swinging his arm around her waist, yanking her to him. Solana has to crane her head up to look at him. He’s so damn tall.

The hungry look in his eyes is no doubt too different from the exact way she’s looking at him. He may want her, but she definitely wants him. 

Even if she doesn’t understand it. 

Even if a part of her feels slightly guilty for what’s about to commence. 

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that she wants this. 

It’s what has her licking her lips and saying so calmly. “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile is wicked, and she only has seconds to think about what she just welcomed into her. Figuratively and literally before he smashes his lips onto her.

Solana has only been kissed by a few men in her life, the majority of them coming from her daughter’s father. And it’s always been…..okay. Decent. Nice, even.

Kissing Roman, however, is none of those things. That hunger in his eyes is matched only by the passion in the way he kisses her, the way his full, pink lips move against hers, his tongue entering her mouth, toying around with her own.

It’s all so powerful and ravenous, and she finds her hands locking behind his neck at the same moment he hikes her up on his waist.

A gasp leaves her mouth, forcing her to break said kiss as he walks her to the back of his place, toward his bedroom.

“How…..” Never a small woman by any stretch of the imagination, especially since having Soraya, it’s a complete surprise the way he lifts and holds her like she weighs no more than a gallon of milk. 

Roman, however, is clearly still not interested in talking, because the moment they arrive in his bedroom, he has her up against the back of his door. His mouth is back on her with those hungry kisses that has her nails raking up the back of his neck, her thighs tightening around his waist. 

His breathing is uneven, his voice strained, and that hardening pressing in between her legs tells her just how badly he wants this too. 

“If you want to stop, you need to say something now.”

It’s the do or die moment. The epic moment of meeting at the crossroads. A part of her is screaming at her to get the hell out of this man’s place and back home where she belongs. With Soraya. Her daughter. Being the best mother that she can be.

But, another part of her, a stronger part of her, wants this, wants him. Because she always does the right thing. Or, tried to, at least. She’s certainly never allowed herself to indulge like this, so where’s the harm?

It’s like Kayden said.

Even woman should have at least one one night stand story. And who better to do it with than the man before her?

Solana’s answer is to press a teasing kiss against the base of his neck. “I’m not saying anything.....”

It feels like she’s barely able to get the words out when he’s carrying her over to the bed, sitting down with her still on top of him. He pulls back and motions for her to climb off. Standing in front of him, Solana watches how his gaze travels over her body before he demands, “take your clothes off. Slowly.”

It’s a strange, almost unfamiliar thing how easy it is for her to follow his instruction without a second thought. One minute her fingers are hooking on the thin straps of her dress, the next she’s squeezing herself out of it, all the while of his eyes never once leaving her.

Heavy breast freed, the only piece of clothing remaining on her is the soaked, black, lacy thong that keeps her cunt covered. 

Roman licks his lips and beckons her over, Solana wordlessly stepping close enough for him to tug her to him, his face buried in her chest. Her head falls back at the same time her mouth drops open as he starts a dangerous combination of kneading one breast while tonguing the other.

“Oh, fuck…..” Her hand is once again on the back of his head. “Roman…..”

“You better get used to saying my name.” He hikes her back on his waist only to flip them, so she’s laid back on the bed with his big, strong body covering her. “Cause it’s the only thing I want to hear for the next few hours.”

Her eyes widen at that, the word escaping her, “hours?”

Roman smiles, and it’s the best and worst thing in the world. So much mischief hidden behind those pearly whites. Carnal, salacious plans. “I like to fuck.” His gaze drops down in between her legs. “And eat.”

There’s a bit of anxiety that spurs the minute he starts dragging those luscious lips from her breast down her chest, his teeth pressing against her skin when he bites down on the band of her underwear. Solana’s hands grasp at the sheets as he uses his mouth to rid her of her final piece of clothing. 

Eyes darting open, she nearly loses it seeing him bring her panties to his face, his own eyes shutting as he deeply inhales and smirks. “I’m keeping these.”

She doesn’t have time to process how he tosses them to the side redirecting his focus to the dripping mess that is her cunt.

He makes a sound, going to pull his shirt over his head, moving to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Look at this pretty ass pussy. Already nice and wet for me.” His words do something to lessen her anxiety but not as much as she’d like. Getting head has always been a mid experience for her. Cruz was…..okay, nothing to be overjoyed about, and he always acted like it was an inconvenience whenever she asked him to return the favor. Not to mention the fact that he rarely, if ever, made her come from it.

Penetration was also hit or miss.

So, her expectations are pretty low up until that first lick of Roman’s thick tongue that has her nearly jumping off the bed. 

“Shit!” Her reaction is a bit embarrassing, most likely more than what’s necessary, but if he’s annoyed by it, he does a damn good job hiding it. 

He looks more turned on than anything. Roman’s long, thick fingers are suddenly playing with the mess she’s certain has already dripped on the soft sheets of his bed. “Lay back, and keep these legs open for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

More embarrassment with how quickly and fervently she nods her head, again falling back onto his big bed. Solana moans quietly when she feels his face completely submerged in her drenched cunt. 

“Roman…..”

He makes a sound followed by his fingers spreading her folds, revealing her swollen clit to him. “Sweet ass pusssy….” 

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue how she’s supposed to last these hours he’s referred to at least twice now based upon the fact that his mouth alone has her about to climax and tap out. It’s so unfamiliar and borderline inhuman how he works his tongue on and against her, exploring, licking and sucking every part of her that Cruz has somehow seemed to neglect her. 

She has her hand on the back of his head, fisting and undoing his bun, curls cascading around her fist as she presses his face deeper into her. 

It’s when he lifts his head, however, beard, chin and mouth soaked with her essence that she truly has to hold it together. “I changed my mind. I want you to watch me.” She’s not sure how and if she can do anything but, Roman’s dark eyes dropping back to her vagina. “Want you to see how good I eat this pussy…..” 

Good isn’t the word for it, because the methodical way he alternates between flicking, swirling, sucking, all the while playing with her, one finger, two fingers, moving in and out of her, needs to be studied by all men.

This is how you make a woman come, and she does. All over his face. Solana practically convulses as he laps up every bit of her essence, not once letting up, even as her orgasm rips through her. He’s still sucking on her clit, forcing her to push him away due to the overwhelming sensation of it all.

She’s partially discombobulated as his mouth finds her, letting her sample the remnants of her cum mixed in with their saliva as he taunts, “see how good you taste?” Solana is incapable of answering, among many other things. “Gonna eat you out all fucking night…..”

It’s a promise that has her clit throbbing. 

Not as much as it does watching Roman stand up at the edge of the bed and start to undo his pants. She’s unable to look away as he also rids himself of the remaining articles of clothing, her eyes basking in every rippling band of muscle that seems to make up his entire body. 

This man is beautiful and strong and ungodly perfect. It feels too good to be true.

But, it’s when he slides his boxers down, his member springing out with hunger and need that her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. 

“Oh….”

To be fair, Solana has only had sex with one man, so comparing dicks is a hard thing for her.

No pun intended.

It’s a hard thing, because it’s quite unfair and borderline cruel to even have Roman and Cruz in the same category.

Cruz barely scratches 5’7. 

Roman is well over 6ft tall.

Cruz is lean and lithe with some muscle and fat that he’s acquired over the years.

Roman’s muscles have muscles. 

Cruz dick is….average, probably a little under average.

Roman’s dick is massive.

The mushroom tip alone, pre-cum oozing through the slit, is enough to have her rethinking this whole thing. She’s not sure even that can get in.

“I don’t…..” And Solana is suddenly forced to endure the most awkward conversation of her life. “How is it supposed to fit?”

A probably silly question if not for the fact she’s genuinely concerned for the state of her vagina right now.

“It’ll fit.” Roman, however, seems unbothered, stroking himself for a minute before he instructs her. “Get on your hands and knees. Hold onto the headboard if you want.” Despite her newfound anxiety, she follows suit, Solana moaning as he glides his tip along her slippery folds. It’s baffling to her how wet she’s been and stayed for him, even with him already making her come once. This man’s presence alone is orgasm inducing. “You just gotta let me stretch this little cunt for you.”

Stretching is one thing. Ripping is an entirely different thing.

“Trust me.” He seems so sure of himself, and she’s not sure why she seems so sure of him too, nodding as she goes back to focusing on holding onto the headboard. A much needed source of support, clearly. 

Eyes closed, she hears the ripping of the condom package. Can imagine him sliding that thing over the massive, heated, turgid muscle weighing in his big hand.

She feels one hand gently gliding down her back, settling on her ass cheek where he gives her a little slap. “Just try to relax.”

Much easier said than done.

Still, she says nothing, eyes closing and head nodding. 

Now or never.

But, the minute his thick dickhead intrudes her tight opening, they’re both moaning in synchronization. It’s a burning, tight sensation on her part, maybe his as well, but there’s also something pleasurable about it? Something satisfying about the way he carefully works inch by inch of his girthy member inside of her, all the while praising her, goading her, talking her through.

“That’s it. Take this dick like the good girl you are.”

“Come on, baby. Open up for me.”

“Look at how this pussy yielding for me.”

It’s still a tight ass fit, and Solana is partially nervous about what the aftermath will look and feel like. Ice packs, crutches, and Tylenol seem to be in her near future. But, none of that matters once he’s fully seated in her, Solana trying to get used to the feel. So full and filing. 

That time of adjustment seems short lived, almost non-existent, because Solana’s body seems to have a mind of its own when she starts moving her ass back on him, prompting him to grab her hips as he starts to thrust into her.

“Shit, girl, knew this pussy would feel amazing, but I didn’t know it would feel this damn good.” His words are accurate and relatable, the discomfort gradually easing into something of pleasure. “Look how good you taking this dick.”

Eyes shut, Solana rocks her big ass back against him, whimpering when he brings hand down and slaps it. “Roman…..”

“That’s right. My name. It’s the only thing I wanna hear leave that pretty mouth of yours.” He intensifies the force of his thrusts, clearly encouraged by how she eagerly throws her ass back on his big dick. 

“Fuck, it’s so big…..” The biggest she’s ever had. The best she’s ever had. “But, it feels so good….”

“You like that shit, don’t you, baby?” He’s such a tease, taunting her, throwing in her face how good he’s beating her shit up. Solana hasn’t had sex in almost two years, not since before she found out she was pregnant, and this being her return to such a, now, wonderful thing is one hell of an experience. “Like how I’m stretching this pussy?"

“Fuck, I love it.” Because she does. Her knuckles are practically white from how hard she’s gripping the headboard, because it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming to the heavens. This man is a demond. “So good….”

Roman continues to fuck her from behind, backshots at different angles. Her head forced into the pillow. Hands on the headboard. Hands held behind her back. And each time causes her to reach a new level of heaven. 

But, it’s when Roman switches gears, repositioning them so she’s on top, Solana feels emboldened. Being on top with Cruz was always an uncomfortable thing, mostly because he would make comments about her being “too heavy” to ride him.

With Roman, all the man he is, it’s not a concern in the slightest. 

She bounces on top of his god-tier dick without a fucking care in the world. 

And he seems to feel the same. 

“That’s it……” She can feel his eyes burning into her as she rocks down on him, her big breast bouncing back and forth. “Ride my dick just like that, baby. Take what you need.”

And taking is exactly what she’s doing, because if this is a once in a lifetime chance to be fucked, thoroughly fucked by a man like Roman Reigns, she’s going to ride it until the wheels fall off. 

Some pun intended.

Roman growls, big hands pressing into her meaty hips. “He can’t never fuck you like this, fill you up like I can.” His lips are hot and pressured against the neck. “He can’t do shit for you that I can.”

She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and not a single lie is being told. “Little ass pussy squeezing the hell out of my big dick.” She moans, pulling his hair as he sucks on her tits, stopping only to again tease her, “you like that shit don’t you?”

She doesn’t stop, just professes all of the wonderful things he and his equally wonderful member are doing for her. “I love it. Fuck, I love it.”

“That’s all you needed. Someone to fuck you nice and right.” Again, it seems this man is incapable of lying, Solana hissing as he squeezes her ass cheeks while his tongue plays with her areola. “Take that stress all out on me, baby. Let me relax you.”

There’s something inherently stressful and relaxing with the way she can’t seem to find the space between reality and fantasy, with how he’s giving her a form of escape she never thought possible. Guiding and talking her to that beautiful point of release. A place she’s never been able to reach before.

Not like this. 

Never like this.

And Roman is perceptive, he can see it. Big hands moving up her back, holding her against him, guiding her on top of him. “Come for me, baby.” It’s less a command and more a plea, his voice almost desperate. “Wanna feel you come undone all over me.”

“Mio Dios!”

Solana is squeezing him, her nails pressing into his skin, her head in the crook of his neck as she comes, hard, heavy, overwhelmingly beautiful and chaotic. And his release comes shortly after, Solana enjoying the sensation of his strong, hulking body against hers, the way his face shifts into something so sensual and perfect as he jerks up into her, emptying into the condom.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just long enough for her to start feeling him go soft inside her. That’s when he eventually and carefully lifts her off and lays her down on the mattress, Solana panting and staring at the ceiling. She feels the dip in the bed as he gets up, obviously to dispose of the condom.

It’s only then she realizes that the absence of him inside of her is….noticeable.

A tiny bit of her eager to have it again. To have just one more taste of that deliciousness. 

Even if she probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

Or ever.

Roman returns to the room, completely unbothered by his nakedness. She readies for him to climb back in the bed with her, maybe even ask her to leave. 

But, he doesn’t. 

No, he instead moves back to his previous spot at the edge of the bed. Grabbing her by her calves, he starts sliding her down. 

“I told you.” Her pussy flutters as he spreads her thighs, face to face with her swollen, puffy pussy. “I’m gonna make the most of the time we have.” And Solana is already moaning, already anticipating another round of insurmountable pleasure. “Starting with you coming in my mouth at least three more times…..”

—-------

It’s a strange, unexpected experience for a lot of different reasons. One, Roman has never really been one to let women ‘stay’ the night. He gets his nut, she gets her, and he sends her on her merry way.

And while Solana isn’t staying the night, she remains in his bed. And not just for sex. He gets her to come again in his mouth twice more before she pushes him away, citing that she needs a break. 

He gives her that, but what happens next is….unexpected, to say the least. 

Pillow talk. 

It’s fucking pillow talk that’s started by her simply running her fingers along his tattoos, asking what they mean and represent. That’s followed up with him asking her about her tattoos, which leads into literally hours of them just laying in bed….talking.

No sex. 

Just…..conversation, and normally, Roman would shy away from such a thing like the plague. It’s just never been his thing. 

But…..with her…..it’s different.

He enjoys hearing her talk, the things she shares with him, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, how her eyes light up when she discusses her daughter with so much adoration and love. He enjoys her presence, the fact that she treats him like…..like he’s normal.

Like he’s not who he actually is, a large part of that being because she doesn’t know who he is, and that probably needs to change. Will change. Just not right now.

He just wants to enjoy having someone to talk to, and it’s easy with Solana. He doesn’t have to second guess motives or intentions or wonder about what kind of hint she’ll drop about wanting something materialistically from him like Sam.

It’s just easy.

So much so that he ends up having a bit of a hard time with letting her out of bed as 11:20pm rolls around, with her once again reminding him that she needs to be home by midnight. He understands it though, respects her dedication to putting her daughter first.

It’s still a bit of a drag for him, a sense of almost disappointment that she can’t spend the night.

Again, wholly out of his norm. 

When they pull up in front of the apartment complex, he finds himself asking, “this is your friend’s place, right?”

The driver has just opened the door for her, but she looks back over her shoulder before climbing out. “Yes, why?”

Roman waits until they’re both standing outside, as he pulls her close to him, enjoying the sight of her wearing his jacket around her body. “Do you need me to take ya’ll home?”

With a soft smile that has him thinking once again about how soft her lips feel pressed against his, she answers, “no, we’ll just stay the night here. It’s late. I don’t want to disturb Raya.”

It’s also way too late for her to be on the road, let alone on public transportation with a baby, hence why he offered.

Pleased with at least that, Roman shares without much thought, “I want to see you again.” And again. And again. And again. Her presence is…..calming in a way he’s not used to.

But, he could certainly get used to. 

Mischief sparkles in her pretty eyes. “See me again or see me again?”

“Both.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana knows that. Can see that while he probably desires her sexually as much as she does him, it’s also something different. Something deeper.

It has to be for her to lay in bed with him for hours just talking.

But, she also knows something else, something that she can’t and won’t negate. “Roman, I—I have a child. I can’t—I can’t just sleep around with you like that. I can’t do friends with benefits.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And the honesty continues as he pushes back some of her hair. “I’m just asking you to give this a chance.”

The word this has her stomach tightening as well as the way he’s looking at her. With such authenticity. The same way she’s probably looking at him.

Solana’s volume dips as she shares with just as much honesty. “Soraya is my number one priority.”

He nods. “I respect that.” 

“She comes first.”

“She should.”

Solana grows quiet. It’s hard to find a reason to disagree with someone who’s being so amenable, and really, what would be her basis for disagreeing? She’s grown. He’s grown. He’s acknowledging that he recognizes her daughter will always come first. What more does she really need?

What reason does she have to not give this a chance?

“If we do this….” She takes a deep breath, fingers grasping at the soft material of his shirt. “You can’t be with anyone else. You can’t be sleeping with random woman while you’re fucking me.”

Because she went through that once. Ignored the signs because she wanted to be happy.

Never again.

Especially not when it comes to her health. 

There’s a bit of hesitation on Roman’s end that she partially understands. She highly doubts this was his first one night stand. “That’s fair,” he finally agrees.

Solana can’t hide her surprise at him not throwing the same stipulation back at her. “You don’t want me agreeing to the same thing?”

Roman chuckles and pulls her into him,“ nobody else could fuck you like I can. You know where it’s at. This the only dick you're gonna ever want now.”

Her cheeks are flushed. “You’re arrogant.” 

But not wrong.

And he voices as such. “It’s not arrogance if I can back it up.” She can’t find it in her to disagree or to call him out, because again, there is no disagreement. “I wanna see you this Friday.”

She can’t deny the small spark of excitement at his offer before the weight of reality sets back in. “I was gonna pick up a shift, Roman…..”

He shakes his head, offering, “I’ll give you whatever you’d make on average.” Solana’s eyes widen a bit. It’s one thing that he already snuck a stack of money in her purse when she was redressing to leave. It’s another for him to continue to offer to financially supplement what she would miss out on by being with him.

“Roman, you can’t…..” That’s trailed off by another realization, even if there is still a small smile on her pretty face. “I don’t think I can get a sitter again.”

Another shrug as he says so plainly. “Bring her.” The horrified expression on her face makes him chuckle as he explains, “we won’t fuck. We can go out to eat again and then back to my place. Now, if she happens to fall asleep and we have some time…..”

Solana’s smile remains as he drops his hand to her ass, palming it, reminding her that this man really did keep her underwear. “You’d be okay with that?”

He explains so calmly. “You have a daughter. I’m not going to pretend she doesn’t exist. If we’re going to see where this goes, she has to be included, too.”

It takes her by surprise. The way he’s so easily going along with this. For some reason, Solana always imagined re-entering the dating world would be stressful given her dedication to always putting her child first. Most men these days don’t get that or aren't trying to “deal” with that. And then there’s Roman.

So…..easy.

It’s nice. Very nice. 

“How about this?” She moves her hands up his chest, feeling how he tugs her even closer. “We can go grocery shopping, and I’ll cook dinner for us.”

Roman smirks, looking down at her. “I got you cooking for me already?”

She giggles, reminding him. “I like to cook. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything for you.”

“Hmm. That’s fine. There’s a lot of different things I wouldn’t mind doing for you.” She sighs against him as he squeezes her ass again. “Especially to you.”

Solana can’t say she would be opposed to that.

Either of them.

Finally breaking away, she acknowledges, “I need to get inside.”

“Mmmm.”

Her smile is stapled at this point. “Goodnight, Roman.”

His eyes flicker with something. "Goodnight, Solana." She's walking up the steps when she remembers his jacket. Shuffling back over, she attempts to take it off, only for him to reach out and stop her. "Keep it. It's yours." Finger to her chin, Roman rubs his thumb along her still swollen bottom lip. "Just like you're mine now....."

[malakaie]

had some feelings to write out – for/about @tommyend, no pressure at all to respond

I started watching wrestling – specifically, AEW – in late October 2023. It’s been just over a year since I started watching, and I didn’t expect it to consume as much of my brain-space as it has. When I started watching, I didn’t really know who anyone was. I had heard a few names – Randy Orton, CM Punk, Jade Cargill, Roman Reigns – but had no real concept of the landscape I was entering or what it would mean to get invested.

Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming, and there was more I didn’t understand than I did. In those first few weeks, I received one very helpful piece of advice: don’t try to understand everything. Find a wrestler or two whose vibe you like and stick with them – the rest will click into place eventually, or it won’t, and either way is fine.

And so I did. I think it was around the lead-up to Full Gear 2023 that I started really paying attention. There was something about what House of Black was doing that was different from anything else I was seeing. I could understand just enough to recognise talented athletes when I saw them, but I wasn’t quite plugged in enough to the overall wrestling “ecosystem” that that was enough on its own to get my attention. Now that I understand more of what I’m looking at, it’s easier to understand what I’m meant to be impressed by – it’s easier now to have that moment of, holy shit, how did they do that?

But I didn’t understand yet. I’d been watching wrestling for about a month and was still finding my footing. What I saw, and latched onto, in House of Black was a group of four impressive performers that I could tell were in love with the art of what they were doing. Everything was done with intent – the way they entered the ring, the different but cohesive styles with which each member of the House wrestled, the gear they wore, the ever-evolving paint on Malakai’s face, the evolution and growth of Julia’s character.

It was both the moment that I finally, properly understood that professional wrestling was also theatre—and, I think, the moment that I was magnetised. It felt like a faction that was made for me: a band of storytellers who wanted to take my hand and show me what wrestling could be and was and is, and had the creativity and cohesiveness and physical talent to pull it off.

I could breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t lost anymore, desperately trying to catch up to understanding something that everyone around me already seemed to know. I had a guide of some sort, and one that resonated: I’ve been reading since I was 3, writing stories since I was 11, have always been a little “strange,” drawn to creative types and niche hobbies and other people that don’t have many friends. And here was someone who not only felt like me, sounded like me, but was wanted and loved and succeeding. A stranger to me, in the way that performers and public figures always are, but I felt like it was going to be okay. If Malakai could make it—though I didn’t and don’t know him personally, I had no way of knowing if he was ever afraid, or if he doubted himself—then maybe I could, too.

The more I watched and the more I learned, the more true that became. I’ve been depressed and anxious most of my adult life. I have scoliosis that is likely to get worse as I get older, and causes me pain multiple times a week, if not every day. Hearing someone whose work I admired be open about his mental health—especially when sports industries have typically not been kind to people, perhaps especially men, who are vulnerable in that way—and be honest when he’s in pain shook something loose in me that I hadn’t quite realised was stuck and frozen in shame. It’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay that I have days where my brain is trying to consume itself. It’s okay that I’m in pain. Did I get out of bed today? Have I been outside? Have I eaten? Have I done something to be kind to myself—or, failing that, kind to someone else? Have I done something creative today?

I started my “gender journey,” for lack of a better phrase, in 2018. There was a lot, a lot, of messing around with pronouns, labels. I didn’t know what I was, only that “just a girl” didn’t feel quite right anymore. And then I felt like I was lying, because, well—I was fine being a girl when I was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen, so why was it suddenly different at 25? Sometimes I still feel like I’m lying. The generation above me often still holds an image of trans people that requires them to have always been miserable, always been “pretending.” A few months ago my mother suggested it was fine if my idea of being feminine had expanded, but she didn’t really believe I was trans, because I’d never been unhappy as a girl child, and besides that I looked like a “clone” of the small handful of other transmasc and nonbinary people she’s met. I must be a pod person. (Newsflash, mom: This is just what queer people look like, a lot of the time. I cut and dyed my hair and got one singular tattoo. How terrible.)

She didn’t ask me how I feel when people call me she, or her—it makes me feel horribly small and unreal, by now—and in fairness to her, I didn’t quite defend myself either. I cringed and shrunk and asked for time to think about it, when what I wanted to say is yes, I know I haven’t had the history you expect to see from me, but this is who I am, and I’m not telling you that I was never a girl. I’m telling you that girl isn’t the place where I stop.

But I was scared, and I felt cornered, and I didn’t say any of that.

What I did have, though, was an artist and a performer and a storyteller who did things with his expression, his clothing, how he presented himself to the world that was like a lightbulb going on. The confidence of a man who told stories with the way that he looked, and who used feminine symbols to do it. He wasn’t any less masculine—but it was an embracing of both that cemented who he was, and I thought: holy shit. I can do that. Our identities are not the same, and I’m not too keen on speculating about the identities of public figures that I don’t know in any event—but it’s reassuring, motivating even, to be able to regularly see someone comfortably expressing his gender (because, yes, cis presentation is gender expression too) in a way that makes sense to him and incorporates the feminine and resonates through his art without doubt or reservation or compromise. This is who we are. Take it or leave it.

I don’t know what’s coming next for any of us. AEW looks like such a different place—in a good way—from when I started watching, and the world is looking pretty scary these days, but I’m still here. The art that got me interested in wrestling in the first place is still here, and I have my theories—unsubstantiated, so far—about where Malakai and House of Black are taking their story, but regardless of theories I’ve been so fortunate to watch them continue to grow and evolve over the past year. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I know the love for the story and the art is real.

I don’t know you personally, Malakai, and I don’t want to claim to, no matter how many scraps I’ve gathered together from interviews and how much of the backlog of matches I’ve done my best to watch so I can understand where you’ve come from and where you’re going next. But your work and your love for your craft has moved me, and I’m glad I stayed alive when it was hard so I could be around to see it when it mattered.

[msbigredmachine]

Power Couple: The Aftermath (Roman Reigns)

When the Tribal Chief falls, no one helps him back up better than you do. Set after the epic main event of Wrestlemania XL.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Warnings: Excess fluff and of course, smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yes, I'm still in my feelings, and there was only one pairing I could properly convey my feelings with, because this has also been their story all along. For new readers, I strongly suggest reading the first two one-shots before delving into this one. Hope you enjoy!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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

1,316 days.

All wiped away with three slaps of the referee’s hand to the hard canvas.

Even after Cody rolled away from him, Roman could not move. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Not when the air had been punched out of his lungs, literally and figuratively. It was only when Dwayne pulled him out of the ring by his pants leg that his body managed to kickstart itself into some sort of motion. And even then, all he could do was turn his head to look back and watch as Cody celebrated in the ring with his wife Brandi, holding his title belt aloft for the whole world to behold as the ultimate symbol of his victory. 

It should have been you and him up there. It should have been him. Again. But it wasn’t. Because the one time he got careless in battle, it cost him everything. Throwing years of hard work down the drain.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

The sound of ‘Kingdom’ blaring through the Lincoln Financial Field Stadium was torture to the former champion’s ears. His legs felt like lead as he dragged his battered body up the ramp, ignoring Dwayne’s baseless, performative complaints about nothing, as he put distance to the tableau of triumph of his opponent. The weight of this defeat was heavy, suffocating even, and he was desperate to get the fuck out of there, to get out of Philadelphia, out of Pennsylvania and all its environs. As he reached the top of the vast WrestleMania stage, pain surged through his abdomen, forcing him to recoil into himself and double over in pain. 

His Wise Man noticed his plight and paused to observe his charge. "My Tribal Chief, are you alright? Do you need-"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine,” he snapped, willing himself to keep walking until he made it past the curtain. He leaned against the wall and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

“What can I do, my Tribal Chief?” Paul implored.

“Just…get my wife on the bus and make sure everything’s ready to go. I’ll be there soon."

“Right away my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied eagerly, scurrying off to do as he was told.

It was a good long minute before Roman managed to pull himself back upright, staggering towards his locker room. Walking was so hard, his body hurt so much, but none of it hurt as much as the gut punch of failure. Much worse than any of the bumps he took was the shame, the disappointment engulfing him; so much so that he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eye right now.

Because he had failed everyone who cared about him.

He had failed you.

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

All good things come to an end. That’s how the saying goes, right? The interesting part of that was that on the surface, it was a throwaway little trope, harmless and benign, until something that meant a great deal to you got taken away in the blink of an eye, or in this case, a three-count. The moment the bell signaled the pinfall that confirmed your husband's time as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion had come to an end, you knew he would never be the same again.

It wasn't unlike Roman to be a little on edge weeks before a big premium live event. And given the nature of the two main event matches he was locked in for the fortieth annual WrestleMania, you expected he would be grouchy. But this time around seemed different, and not in a good way. He’d been surly towards everybody, including you. He disappeared for hours working out obsessively. He’d even thrown out a female member of the press who had dared to boo him at the press conference on Saturday night. Now, despite the final match of the weekend concluding nearly an hour ago, Roman was yet to return to his tour bus. That only meant one thing; he was not taking this defeat well, and it was up to you to lift him up, like you always did.

When you found the door boasting your husband's name, Heyman was outside, pacing back and forth. The Undisputed title, which you had grown accustomed to seeing on his shoulders on behalf of his Tribal Chief, was missing; a stark, prickly reminder of the outcome of tonight’s proceedings. 

"That bad, huh?" you asked, reading the Wise Man’s expression in a second. In fact, he looked on the verge of tears, his shoulders sagging with despair. The weekend had taken an emotional toll on him, too.

"He won’t come out," he informed you, his usually confident voice shaky and helpless. “He won’t let anyone in and he won’t speak to anyone…”

You raised your index finger to cut him off. "Correction, he won’t speak to anyone that’s not me," you stated, shooting him a warm smile, one among countless others you had shared with him since burying the hatchet after years of friction between you. "Go be with your family, Paul. I’ll handle my husband.”

“He’s my family, too,” he declared softly, the conviction in what you used to call his beady eyes, palpable and heartbreaking, “Both of you are.”

Touched and at a loss for words, you could only look on as he turned around slowly and made the lonely walk down the hallway. Turning back to the locker room door, you sucked a breath between your teeth and blew it out, mentally preparing to confront this task head-on.

You knocked timidly and stuck your head inside. If Roman was in as foul a mood as Paul let on, even you did not want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents over the years for you to learn that even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he got too stressed. It never stopped you from trying, though. Kissing was one of your favorite things to do with him after all.

"Knock, knock," you called out softly, listening for signs of movement as you stepped inside and closed the door. The room that was bustling just a few hours ago was now stripped bare and cloaked in dead quiet. It was an eerie contrast to the majestic, sweeping grandiosity that encompassed his entrance to the ring tonight. “Babe?”

Venturing further inside the room, you found him on the couch, his strong, broad back to you, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table in front of him. His ula fala was draped over the headrest, where his title belt would surely have been. 

This was the reality no one warned you about after a monumental loss. It plunged you into a cold, dark abyss, wrought with biting silence and dreary loneliness now that the show was over and the lights were no longer bright. The what ifs, buts and maybes crooning in your ear like a morbid symphony. It was an experience all too familiar to you unfortunately, and recently, too; you and your husband had traveled down this terrible road following the tragic miscarriage of your son in the summer of 2022.

Stepping in front of him, you wiggled into his personal space and made yourself at home on his lap. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you sighed with relief when he instantly melted into you and his huge arms enveloped your waist, holding on to you like his life depended on it. 

“My baby,” you cooed soothingly, the sound of your lips meeting the side of his head piercing through the emptiness of the locker room. “My love.” 

The audible hitch of his breath at your soft words was expected. In the course of your lifetime, those two little phrases had garnered a poignant significance. As words of comfort and solace first uttered by your mother when you were a child, you murmured those words regularly to Roman between sweet, playful kisses when he was courting you, basking in the bliss of newfound love, and again as part of your wedding vows as you became man and wife. They were the first words you whispered to Laleia the first time she was placed in your arms. They were the words that you had cried yourself to sleep with as you mourned the baby boy you had lost. You and Roman had seen each other at your absolute best and worst, and now, in the isolation of this room, with just the two of you and nobody else, this was another bad moment you had to overcome.

“On Matt’s birthday, too,” Roman finally spoke, wiping at his nose with a sniffle. “Fuck, man.”

“I know,” you replied, running your hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm. As he met your gaze at last, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Seeing him like this broke your heart afresh. You held him as close as possible, willing all his pain and his hurt into your soul, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

"I fucked up," he breathed, his voice raw and choked with misery, "I fucked up out there, babe...I let Dwayne down...I let y'all down. I lost the title and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? Over thirteen hundred days as champion?" you countered, "Nine WrestleMania main events? Billions of dollars in revenue? A roof over your child's head and three square meals a day? One loss will never wipe any of that away, don't ever get it twisted."

He exhaled tiredly as he hugged you tighter, resting his head on your shoulder. "I really wish I felt that way right now," he mumbled.

"It'll take some time, but you will," you asserted, running his fingers through his loose hair before tugging it lightly, making him look at you again. "Roman, you changed the industry, just like you said you would when we started this. No one will ever, ever forget what you've done these past four years. Be proud of all of it. You've been through so much, you sacrificed too much to not be proud."

Roman nodded in understanding. He just wished he didn't feel so down. "Baby, I...I want you to know how sorry I am. I know how much you wanted this. And I've been such a dick to you lately-"

You kissed your teeth and waved his apology away. "Nah. That don't matter no more. And I don't care that you didn't win. All I care about is you being safe when you're out there. Being healthy for our family and our daughter, who will be very happy to have her Daddy home, by the way. So we took an L. Okay, we'll only come back stronger. We had one bad night. Guess what? I plan on giving you a better morning, if you know what I mean." You rounded off your words with a wink, your heart blooming when he chuckled in response. "See, there's that smile I love so much. Keep your head up, baby. You did so good tonight. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Roman leaned into you, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in and filling his head with your scent. It was like breathing fresh air. “I love you, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

The tears you'd been fighting all night resurfaced, but you blinked them away as you captured his lips with yours, your hand sliding over the back of his neck. He clung to you, a different emotion quickly overtaking him as he returned your kiss with a bit of aggression, his tongue whipping hungrily against yours, savoring your mouth as though he was tasting it for the very first time. You surrendered to his every whim, your other hand raking through his hair then caressing gently down to his chest, resting your palm over the spot where his heart pumped for you. You could feel how much he needed this moment of intimacy, and you had no qualms giving him anything he asked for.

With one quick tug of your legs, Roman had you straddling him on the couch, bringing you chest to chest with your lush backside resting on his growing bulge. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, then sealed your mouths again, his tongue invading, probing, a moan rumbling in his chest when you matched his energy, the emotions take over this loving embrace. He could never get enough of you, of the passion that overwhelmed him by your mere presence, immersing him in a love and gratitude he would always feel for you no matter what state of mind he was in.

Eventually, you pulled away from each other, breathless, panting, lips glistening with each other’s saliva. His heart raced at the familiar gleam in your darkened eyes. You weren’t done with him, not just yet, and this was confirmed as you slowly slid off him and sank to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing the front of his shirt up to expose his newly honed six-pack abs.

“Do you know how fucking hot you looked tonight, Daddy?” you purred to him, leaning in to run your tongue over the ridges of muscle on his taut belly. “Last night? All week? Do you have any idea of all the nasty shit I’m gonna do to you on the bus?”

Roman’s dick jumped in his joggers as his imagination ran wild. He squirmed in his seat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as your tongue lapped at his belly, your mouth warm on his skin, all while you rubbed the fullness of his bulge straining eagerly against your touch. “Baby girl…” he choked out, as your fingers peeled the waistband of his pants, unveiling his big, beautiful brown dick. 

“Hmm, commando. I like it,” you commented with a smirk, curling your fist around his turgid length.

“Babe, wait…ain’t Paul outside?”

“I sent him home. Plus, won't be the first time he's seen me suck you off.” Your small hand massaged his blunt, plum-shaped head as you licked a trail along the underside of his dick, enjoying the gasps of pleasure that he made. Licking up the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, your mouth opened wider to take him in. He stared you down with an intense look in his dark irises, which soon fluttered shut as your lips wrapped tight around his flesh, his stomach tensing as he felt himself slide deeper inside. “Awww, fuuuck,” he moaned.

Pulling back for a second, you held his lust-filled stare and stroked his dick a little harder, giggling when it twitched in your grip. A defiant look clouded your eyes as you licked at his tip before pushing him back into your mouth. It was enough for him to nut by just watching you, the visual of your lips sliding slowly up and down his length, that sexy mouth of yours making sweet love to his dick. It felt so good that he sank further into the plush leather of the couch, his head rolling back lazily against the headrest, his toes curling inside his brand new Air Reigns sneakers. All the pain and punishment his body had endured tonight melted away and was replaced with much more pleasurable sensations.

“I love the way you suck my dick, wifey,” he praised you, forcing himself to observe you through his barely open eyelids. “Mmm, that slutty little mouth is warm as fuck…You so sexy, baby, keep lookin’ up at me like that...” 

His raspy growls had you glancing back up at him, batting your pretty eyelashes as you sucked him off. Wetness pooled between your thighs at his famished expression. Completely aroused, you picked up the pace as your hands and your mouth worked in tandem, sucking and stroking his dick, pleasuring him from tip to base. His breathing became heavier as he throbbed against your tongue, his hands finding the back of your head as he got lost in the paradise of your warm, wet mouth. 

“Damn, baby. I bet that pussy leakin’ for me right now. You gettin’ wet sucking Daddy off, beautiful?” he taunted, his tongue swishing over his bottom lip at the same time your tongue swirled around the base of his shaft. The little moan that escaped your throat told him he was right. Of course he was; he knew his wife better than anybody else. “Good girl. Keep goin', I want that pussy extra wet. I’ma lick all that shit up when we get on the bus.”

With another soft moan, you crawled closer to his body and bore down on him, bobbing your head up and down that long, fat cock. Scooping your hair up into his large fist for leverage, Roman rocked his hips upwards from his seated position, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat to take him deeper, moaning around his dick and letting him know how much you were enjoying him fucking your face. You rolled his balls in your hand, caressing the heavy, tightened sac to send him over the edge. It was working, as he began thrusting faster, his husky groans of pleasure amplifying as he neared his release.

“Unnnhh, baby, here it comes…Fuck, open your mouth,” he gasped, not waiting for you to do so as he yanked you by your hair to free himself from your intoxicating mouth. You quickly opened wide as he grabbed his cock and jerked it desperately against your tongue. He caught sight of the glazed-over quality of your gaze, and he knew that your panties were completely ruined, your pussy dripping with your need for him. He planned to take care of that very soon.

It was a show more spectacular than Mania, the sight of his gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the heavens as his orgasm washed over his big body. Your moans harmonized together with each spasm of his cum down your throat, making you swallow every drop he unleashed. His grip on your hair was tight and almost painful, but you were turned on anyway, aroused by the knowledge that no one brought him to this state of paramount pleasure like you did. Licking your lips, you scooped him back into your mouth to clean him up, released him with a soft pop when you finished, and tucked him back inside the confines of his joggers. You giggled as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, licking his lips to catch his breath, his big frame slack and helpless as he recovered from the intense orgasm.

"Goddamn, baby...Shit," he groaned.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stood up and sat back on his lap, welcoming the gentle press of his mouth to yours in a sweet, grateful kiss. “You feel better, Daddy?” you asked.

"Much better. I needed that so much. Thanks, baby," he smiled up at you, his stomach doing flips as you smiled back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

“Mm-hmm. Luckily, there’s more where that came from,” you assured him with another kiss before getting to your feet and pulling him up to his. “Come on, Daddy. Let's go home. We got a toddler to take care of. We'll figure out all the other stuff when it's time."

He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand. “Okay, baby. Home it is.”

A new chapter in your story had been opened tonight, and the path ahead seemed uncertain and even scary. But you both took pride in the fact that as long as you kept writing it together, your love story was going to remain as beautiful as it already was.

But make no mistake about it; Roman Reigns was going to rule the wrestling world again. That was one story that was never going to end.

THE END

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

Thoughts? How sappy was this😢Was quite cathartic for me, loved writing it.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

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[twit-ter-pa-ted]

Love Language - Vinsmoke Sanji

a/n: this is the first of the 'love languages' series im posting! ofc i had to start with my bbgrill idiot cook. slight warning that yes, this is ranked in the way i think sanji's ll's would be ranked. i've finished writing for the monster trio and i may or may not write one for usopp and nami too (and maybe robin? vivi? we will see.) anyway, enjoy reading! <;33

Acts of Service

This is Sanji's main love language. He loves cooking for the crew and most of all, you.

Given that he's a gentleman at heart, he goes above and beyond to show his love in this way.

Beyond cooking, he often offers you a glass of chill water whenever the sun's glare is too intense.

On top of that, he refuses to let enemies lay their hands on you in battle (even when you're perfectly capable of defending yourself). You could win a battle without so much as laying a finger on your opponents, and vice versa, with Sanji around.

There is so much more I could list under this.

He doesn't like receiving acts of service. He believes you should live an elegant life in the world without so much as lifting a finger (even if you're a pirate.), especially not for anyone else.

Physical Touch

Your touch is his lifeline! He can't get enough of you.

You're almost always there to accompany him whenever he cooks.

You learn that the best place to watch him cook from are the counters, because he'll find any excuse to pass by you and lovingly squeeze your hips or your waist, or kiss your shoulder, neck, cheek, lips, or your forehead. Whichever is most accessible as he casually passes by.

When he's not cooking and lounging with the crew, he likes resting with you on a hammock, limbs tangled together like a messy bundle of rope.

He likes running his fingers through your hair, but he also likes having your fingers in his hair. He goes crazy for you either way.

Words of Affirmation

He's a very vocal person.

He constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are and how lovestruck you have him. He never fails to tell you just what's on his mind.

Whenever he tries to teach you ways how to cook, a string of affirmations endlessly leaves his lips to help encourage you.

On the other hand, Sanji is used to compliments, but compliments from you just hit different. He'd go soft the moment a praise is uttered from your lips and he'd be like pudding in the palm of your hand.

Quality Time

He loooovvveessss quality time.

Whenever he's cooking, he likes having you watching him. He'd explain to you every step in what he was doing even if you didn't exactly understand what most of it meant (He'd explain the terms to you like you're five. It's cute.).

He's practically fastened himself to you with a stitch. He rarely leaves your side and is always there with you (he may as well be your bodyguard), though he makes sure he doesn't suffocate you with his constant presence.

Giving/Receiving Gifts

Sanji loves to give gifts, though often gives gifts that have more effort than spent Berries.

He would pick a flower – hell, make a bouquet – while you're walking along a village and end up giving it to you at the end of the day.

He would absolutely write you a 10k worded, 1.5 spacing, Times New Roman font handwritten love letter expressing his love for you and still think that isn't enough to show you how much he loves you.

Alternatively, he's brought to tears whenever you gift him something. Whether it's something he wanted or something that just reminded you of him, he'd be very appreciative of it.

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 15: The tyrant’s chosen

First chapter | Previous

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Being a horse and letting another person ride on his back probably wouldn’t be something Roman would’ve ever considered something he’d be proud off. But he was.

His first transformation had been flawless. He’d adopted all the qualities of his target creature successfully. Virgil didn’t feel heavy to him and he kept up a steady pace the whole way through. Even squeezing out a sprint for the last few miles. Winning an unofficial race against Patton.

Not that he’d brag.

Virgil halted him a bit before they reached the end of the forest, before the lake was in full view.

“Best that we draw as little attention towards ourselves as possible once out in the open,” he suggested as he vanished the saddles.

“Alright. Time to turn back. Remember. If something doesn’t go quite right, you can just try again and fix it,” he promised.

Roman took a deep breath. He could do it. Just like with turning into a horse, but now focusing on becoming human…

He breathed in and out. Feeling his body changing. Come on, hurry…

After a few, long, uncomfortable, moments he was back on two legs with two arms a torso and a head… Everything seemed in order… Except… His hair felt longer…

“Well, you didn’t get stuck with horse legs,” Patton giggled. His shift having gone flawlessly.

“How bad?” Roman asked.

“Just, long hair… And it’s still white. But you can fix that. Just breathe for a few moments,” Virgil insisted. Roman nodded and did just that…

“There you go. Short and auburn once more,” Virgil said in approval. “Though it did look good long,” he added.

Roman blushed. Maybe, he could try growing it out… Just to see if he liked it. There were hair growth potions. He could have long hair within 24 hours if he wanted.

Virgil saw how Roman was running a hand through his hair and smirked at him. Roman blushed, knowing he was caught.

“Now. Let’s go,” Virgil said, a little smug. Okay that was not necessary.

“I doubt the temple will have an arrow pointed at it’s entrance. Our best bet is the eastern side, that’s where the closest village is and he cult members will need some supplies and possibly contact with their families from time to time. It makes the most sense to have your exit near the road you need to take to get those things,” Virgil mused.

“Once we get close to that road, we’ll have to find the entrance or have good timing and see someone enter or exit. We’ll need a lot of luck either way. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever did this has measures in place to protect the cult from detection,” Virgil mused as they came upon the lake. Now Roman was the one who couldn’t help but feel smug.

Virgil looked back at him curiously. Roman shrugged humbly. Virgil was intrigued and impressed.

“Care to share?” Logan stated a bit annoyed.

“Well. We won’t need that much luck. A sunstone needs sunlight to charge right?” Roman pointed out. Virgil’s eyes widened.

“But how are they getting that in a temple at the bottom of a lake?” he realized.

Roman nodded and pointed at a very, very small island with what looked like an open well in the middle.

“I’ll bet money that that shaft ends directly above the sunstone. And if it were blocked by something, say a branch…” he pointed out.

“Then someone would have to hurry to the surface to remove it so the sunstone won’t go without power in the middle of the night and fail to keep their god in his beastly form!” Logan finished.

“That… Is quite smart,” he added.

“No need to sound so surprised. Just because you are the smart one doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be dumb,” Roman huffed.

Logan was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry Roman. You are right. You made it through the same training as me. I know you can be very smart. Smarter than me in certain ways. I am sorry for doubting you,” Logan admitted.

Roman was a little taken aback now. “Oh… Thank you. It’s… good to hear you say that actually,” he said after a few moments.

Logan nodded. “That goes for you too Patton,” he added.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thanks anyway,” Patton smiled brightly.

“Well. Let’s head to the east side and see if the plan works,” Virgil suggested, more than a little proud of Roman for his strategy.

Virgil looked at him. Inquisitive. Roman glanced at the moon crystals around the high mages neck pointedly. Virgil's eyes widened in surprise, and he cocked his head curiously. Roman shrugged. Modest and offering a bit of the admiration he felt for him and the uncertainty he'd felt about suggesting something that might've been obvious to the high Mage.

Virgil smiled at him fondly and presented him with a feeling of awe of his own. Roman vaguely remembered that feeling pressing at his consciousness when he got past his inner walls while transforming into a horse.

It was not the same awe Roman had shown. The respect and admiration for Virgil's talents as a mage.

Virgil had been impressed, sure. But it was mixed with the sort of awe you feel witnessing a particularly beautiful sunrise.

He blushed. Virgil smiled satisfied, eyes drifting briefly to his lips with want.

Oh gods!

"Ahem," Logan interrupted.

"Sorry. Roman just told me that he came up with his strategy when he saw me put the crystals in the moonlight to charge. He didn't say anything until now because, like how you assumed that your spell wasn't something new, he didn't want to come off as condescending by offering a plan I already had worked out," Virgil surmised. Roman felt excited to hear that the translation was so accurate. They really were getting good at this.

Logan waited for a moment. Studying Roman's expression and concluding Virgil had interpreted everything correctly. The studious great wizard mage shook his head. "I suppose we'll just have to get used to it," he muttered.

"Indeed. We will be a bit more mindful of what topics might be best discussed out loud," Virgil offered before turning to Roman.

"There is something I would like to ask out loud while we walk though," he said softly in a way that had Patton and Logan slow their pace and start their own conversation tk offer then privacy.

"Sure, what is it?" Roman asked, matching Virgil's volume.

"You know how I asked for time?" Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

"And I know you have been very bad at taking it slow," he teased.

Virgil smirked. "If I wasn't taking it slow, I would have kissed you as soon as I knew my feelings were returned," he stated, making Roman flush. Kissing Virgil... that was something he'd been trying not to think about. But now... he was definitely thinking about it.

Virgil chuckled. "I know that the idea of ascending... is a lot. But would you consider it? To give me a bit more time?"

Roman stared in confusion.

"I know that outliving everyone might not appeal to you. But... I need a bit more time to decide if I want to stay. And, if you'd be willing, I'd like to have that time without a ticking clock on your mortality over my head. It is not a demand. Just a request. Would you be willing to ascend and accept the gift of time, just for a few years?"

Roman frowned. "With staying... you mean..."

"I mean, I would grow old with you," Virgil nodded. "You know you aren't the first man I've had feelings for. And the subject of growing old together has come up in relationships before. But this is the first time I've thought of it so soon and without prompting. I don't know how I feel about age and, eventually, death, right now. Too much else is going on. And I don't know how long it will take to fix everything. But... I have seen high mages find partners they couldn't live without. I figured I'd gotten good enough at goodbyes and cherishing memories to not experience that. But... When I get to know someone, there is a moment where I consider how I'll miss them when they are gone. And it's never a happy thought... but it has never... felt so wrong before. And I don't know if that's just due to our bond or because the situation is so crazy and you are the one thing I can completely trust right now... but I'll need time to figure it out. Again. You don't Have to. It's not like if you don't feel ready to ascend then a relationship is off the table. I just thought I'd ask," he explained nervously. Roman felt his heart race in his chest at the implications of all that he was feeling from Virgil. And what he was saying.

"Virgil. I have been taking an interest in what being immortal is like because I wanted to decide whether I would be able to live with it. And the way you see it. To carry on so many stories... to make sure that the ones I love are remembered even if only by me. I think that would be a grand adventure. Especially with a partner at my side. Though it won't be a requirement. Even if it hadn't been you who we found first. Once I heard of the possibility of rising even higher in rank, it would be on my mind as something I might want to do,” Roman confessed. Something wordless passed between them.

"We're here!" Patton announced, pulling them from their little bubble.

"Okay. Time to see if this works," Virgil nodded as he appraised a nearby tree. He chose a branch that had already suffered from a recent storm from the looks of it, but still had enough leaves for their purposes. With a swift pattern of hid hand, the branch was severed and floated over to the island. Roman noticed Virgil's feathers glowing. He was using his own plumage as a catalyst. Brilliant.

The branch covered the well, and the four mages settled in the grass to lie in wait for someone to come out.

They kept quiet. Roman saw Virgil clench his messaging stone in his hand and covered it with his own in a soothing gesture. They'd save his friend. Soon.

Suddenly a rock near the water moved. Someone walked up. Shielding his eyes from the sun.

Virgil jumped up and before the robed figure could even look up a strong wind pushed him back into the lake where he was immediately tangled in fast growing vegetation. They tried to scream but no sound came out.

"Let's go," Virgil instructed, leading the way down the staircase. Roman glanced at the cultist, left trashing in their binds, before following swiftly, pulling the spear out of the satchel. Hoping it would serve him well in battle.

He was right behind Virgil so the moment the sunstone’s magic overpowered his moon crystals Roman could step in and finish whatever enemy Virgil might be facing.

They hurried down the stairs. The farther they got before an alarm was raised the better.

They hadn’t had a lot of time to study and Roman had only come up with a few ideas to help protect them.

They soon came down to the first floor.

“There’s three floors total,” Virgil announced, his eyes glowing purple. Roman trusted that whatever he just did, ensured that that information was accurate. So this was floor one.

This was their first true hurdle, luckily there were only five cultists on this floor. To their left there seemed to be supply rooms and to their right a small library. Roman doubted any of those books contained anything good though.

One of the cultists turned to the exit. Roman knelt down and willed the door opening to close itself. The stone obeyed him. It wasn’t very thick as he had to draw from the surrounding stone and didn’t want to weaken the structure of the building too much. A few firm hits of a sword or something like it would probably break through. But it discouraged the runner from trying to reach the lower floor and it would delay reinforcements.

Virgil did something similar by sinking two cultist, who’d been blinded by Star rushing them in his amorphous form, up to their knees into the floor.

Patton tackled one in wolf form and then shifted back, putting him to sleep.

While Patton tied his victim up Logan shot an arrow to the fourth cultist that hit him in the tight and turned out to contain a fast working nerve agent. The cultist went down. Roman smirked as the fifth one charged him with a club. He used the blunt end of his spear to knock it out of his hand and then sidestepped him and gave him a firm knock on his head knocking him out.

“They don’t seem like they are high in rank. Don’t expect more senior members to be as unprepared or weak,” Virgil advised as Roman and Logan tied their victims up for good measure.

Roman nodded. Patton took down the barrier with a decisive strike from his staff.

“Nice,” Roman complemented. Patton smiled brightly and then they headed down.

Behind them they could hear the sound of armored men coming down a staircase.

Good. Reinforcements were right where they needed them to be.

Virgil flinched halfway through and stifled a pained cry with his fist before turning into a phoenix again. Roman flawlessly caught him and put him on his shoulder. The stairs were too narrow to fly. But the second floor wasn’t.

Star wasted no time and pounced on the first cultist he saw. Before Virgil took off, before Roman had a chance to take in his surroundings. First he spotted the doorway and did the sealing again.

But this time, a cultist barged through the door and rushed downstairs.

“We are on a timer now!” Virgil’s voice echoed through the room. Oh… Well it seemed managed to maintain human speech now when he was forced to transform.

Roman looked up as he pulled stone from the floor to create an armor for himself. This time there were ten enemies and they were down a fighter. One who could restrain his opponents anyway.

Virgil dove for the cultists and clawed at their faces causing them to let out painful enraged cries.

The room was bigger. And more what Roman expected when he imagined a cult’s temple.

There was an altar in the middle with a chalice, stained with something that Roman feared was blood.

Along the walls were murals. On the left one depicting a fire breathing chimera and kneeling figures offering it food on one side while on the other figures were carrying things away towards a taller figure drinking from a chalice and holding a shiny staff. In front of them a sun god type figure bestowing some kind of blessing on a figure with a similar headdress to the bigger figure in the first drawing. On the right there was a very detailed anatomically accurate dissection of a chimera depicted. That… Was just wrong. Magical beings were near or fully sentient and as Roman learned, in this case probably an actual human being. Not that any of this would be okay with an average animal. But the sentience of the creature made it extra bad.

Stardust whined as the enemy threw him off. Which enraged Patton who turned into a bear and slapped him several feet to the side, causing him to make hard impact on the floor. He came back up bizarrely quickly.

These guys really were tougher than the previous set.

It didn’t matter though. They would still defeat them.

Two cultists came at Roman with clubs, but he managed to avoid the first attack and while the second one hit, it was absorbed by his armor. Good, it worked the way he intended then.

Considering a backhand from a bear hadn’t discouraged the first guy, he opted for some sharp end action. He stabbed one of his attackers in the shoulder, which did bleed and did get him to his knees. The other one he stabbed in the foot. Also highly effective.

He tied them up and reassured them that the wounds wouldn’t kill them while reinforcing the ropes with some Magic. He heard someone rushing him from behind, laid his hand on the floor and just let his magic go ham. When he turned around he saw someone with a raised club, aiming for his head now frozen in place as waterweed had wrapped itself all around him to the point where he couldn’t move a muscle.

Roman looked up to his friends as he went back to patching up the cultists wounds, though he was starting to think he was being much too nice. Still, if they lived they could be punished.

And just because they were nasty people didn’t mean Roman could hold himself to a lower standard.

Logan was panting, his eyes wide as three more paralyzed cultists laid around him. Each being shot at least three times before going down as far as Roman could tell.

Bearton was wrestling with a guy, three others hanging from nasty looking hooks by their robes. Stardust growled and jumped on the guy’s back, biting him making hip cry out and allowing bearton to pick him up and hang him next to his buddies. Then Patton returned to human form and put the four of them under a sleeping spell.

He looked down at Stardust who’d jumped of once Patton had a hold of his opponent.

“You’re such a good boy,” he cooed, ruffling Star’s head, much to the wolf’s delight.

“Well… Those weren’t normal people,” Logan concluded.

“They had a lot of magical parts at their disposal,” Virgil’s voice echoed as he flew to Roman to land on his shoulder once again. “Never mind them though. The soldiers will deal with them. We should go,” Virgil insisted. “The enemy expects us this time and there is only one doorway,” Logan pointed out.

Roman nodded. “I’ll take point. Whatever they send in, my armor can take. And I have a little surprise for them in return,” he stated determinedly.

“… Yes,” Virgil agreed reluctantly.

“Patton, you carry Virgil for a bit. I don’t want him to get hit on accident,” Roman insisted. Virgil disliked hopping over to Patton’s shoulder even less, but he didn’t protest.

Roman took a deep breath and charged down, feeling a fire in his heart. He could do this. He had it planned out. No hesitation. Just push through.

Great plan… But then he got hit with magic. Most of it got tanked by his armor, but that was about all it could take. He fell to his knees, though he oversold how hard the spell had hit. It stung, his chest ached. But he wasn’t out of commission. But his hands were on the floor so he was ready to pull his biggest trick. He was a bit winded, not just from the fighting but also because he’d been casting without any catalyst. Which saved time in combat, but it also left him tired. Especially after trotting all the way here with a person on his back.

He looked up. There were twenty beefy soldiers in loincloths and red body paint, rather than robes before him. Forming a barrier between him and the back of the room where an ornately dressed individual with a staff in hand pointed at Roman. A slain disciple before him and behind him a pillar of glowing sun stone and chained to it in golden chains a chimera.

That, no doubt was Remus.

“Killing your own disciples Marcus?” Virgil’s voice wondered discussed as he, Patton, Logan and Stardust came up behind Roman.

“… It can’t be…” the magic user breathed in disbelief.

“It can. And it is,” Virgil stated, hopping over to Roman’s shoulder.

“Now why did you kill the boy who came to warn you. Giving you an advantage you need, but won’t save you if I am honest,” Virgil insisted.

The mage righted himself. “He failed to be useful in battle, his blood will instead aid me in mine,” the leader said coldly.

“That attitude is why you look like crap. I expect any student of mine to be smart enough not to indulge in dark magic,” Virgil scolded. This guy used to be a student of Virgil!?

The mage cackled and now that Roman looked a bit closer, there was something off about him. He had markings that on first glance looked like birthmarks or scars, but now that he paid attention, they didn’t look right. Almost tar like, some were even bubbling slightly.

“A sacrifice I made for my disciples. It took a while to tame the tyrants beast but I promised them strength and longevity. None of us look in our seventies do we?” he stated proudly.

“So? I don’t look my age either. You aren’t special,” Virgil scoffed.

“But you, like this beast have been shunned by the sun, while I am the sun’s chosen master of time!” the nutjob announced.

“Says the guy wo didn’t manage to become a mage until he was halfway his twenties. You never even became a great mage. You are impatient and arrogant and unwilling to learn what you don’t already have talent for. You were a waste of recourses and time. And you still are. Now, be smart about it and let Remus go. Otherwise, it’ll be so much worse,” Virgil warned, his feathers standing on end.

“The tyrant’s beast? I would, but he hasn’t even acknowledged your presence Shadow of the Sunbird. Your friend has faded long ago and is now a docile pet. He does not even respond when he is harvested anymore,” Marcus taunted.

Roman glanced towards Virgil, wondering if he could go for it.

Virgil’s caution vanished, leaving only cold seething rage. Time to go for it.

He poured all his strength into this next attack. They were at the bottom of the lake now so he pulled not just from the stone, but from the lake as well, even pulling up some sunstones from underneath. If his creation made contact with the big one they’d be charged and it could use them to do some rudimentary magic.

It came with risks it meant the ground under them was less stable. As it was there was a big crater between him and the soldiers. In it stood his creation. A ten feet tall Gollum made of stone.

“Protect my friends,” he ordered. A simple order with enough wiggle room for him. Virgil clearly disapproved though. Noticing that Roman hadn’t included himself in the order. He didn’t need to be protected. He was going to do something potentially dangerous and he couldn’t have his Gollum try to stop him to keep him safe.

“Go take care of the chackles. We’ll keep the bad guy busy,” Roman promised.

Virgil felt mad but then a roar sounded and the Gollum barged through the front lines, Marcus disappeared to avoid his rampage. Clearly the Gollum had decided that taking out the biggest threat was a good course of action. Roman was a little proud. About ten soldiers focused on the Gollum. Leaving a more manageable number for Roman and his friends to deal with.

None of their attacks even phased it though as it rushed for the sunstone and grabbed it tight, glowing with magic. The Chimera stirred and got up. Roused from his slumber by all the ruckus.

They had to work fast. Once the restraints were broken and Remus realized that he was free, who knew how he’d react.

Another reason why he’d made the Gollum so big.

Something had to keep a rampaging Chimera from accidently squishing his friends if his own idea to keep that from happening failed.

Right now he should focus on not getting his head smashed in. Patton and Logan both had gotten the hang of their given weapons. Patton switching between casting and hitting with his staff. Making hybrid forms near flawlessly. Using parts of animals Roman had never seen before. He didn’t know what kind of animal had a tail like that but it could support Patton’s entire weight allowing him to use his donkeylegs to deliver a phenomenal kick that the beefed up cultists just weren’t prepared for. He combined that with eagle wings on his back so he could get a bit of altitude and bring his staff down with all his weight behind it. His arms were thicker and covered in black fur the skin of his hands grey.

He left his opponents dazed on the ground and unable to go back for seconds.

Logan managed to keep his opponents on a distance with arrows that seemed to spark with lightning and halt them in their stride.

Roman meanwhile was ready to see what damage a falling star could do in the hands of a great mage. He let his remaining strength flow into the weapon that was forged as a sign of appreciation and friendship and he felt a kinship with the spear. A promise somehow. He fought on and looked up briefly as he heard his Gollum roar. It had grabbed the pilar with one hand and now it was merging with it. The pillar was about four feet tall and that might not sound big, but considering most sunstones were small enough to fit in a child’s hand, it was massive.

And now it was lifted out of the ground and the Gollum wielded it like a hammer.

“No hurt!” it demanded swiping at the cultists who were still trying to bring it down, pushing them back with a solar wind attack. Roman remembered reading about those while helping Patton study at the academy.

“There you go! Good job!” Roman called out before taking in his surroundings again. Suddenly he saw that one of the soldiers had grown a brain to use and had managed to sneak up in Logan’s blind spot. “Logan!” Roman gasped as he made a run for it, knowing he’d be too late but wanting to try anyway. He was closest by no one else could help. He swung his spear through the air to discourage anyone from coming near him and blocking his path. Logan looked up confused. But before he could even look at what had Roman so frantic, two invisible strikes hit the would be sneak attacker. Roman came to a stop. Did he do that?

“No hurt!” The Gollum repeated, clearly annoyed that his attempt at reasoning with the bad guys hadn’t gone well. A slam of his hammer had several enemies sink to their waist in the ground… Good. Right. Gollum had his friend’s back. That left someone to watch out for that Marcus guy.

Roman’s eyes found the cursed mage and he was doing his best to keep Virgil from breaking the Chimera’s chackles. Both individuals seemed to annoy the Chimera at the moment. Roman wondered if he even recognized his friend’s guide form right now. He hoped he did. Otherwise this rescue thing would end up really dangerous for them all.

Not that it wasn’t already.

He charged for the mage. “Hey! Ugly!” he called out effectively distracting the mage.

“Ugly? You want to see ugly?!” Well he struck a nerve.

The mage held out a hand and the body of the fallen disciple started to glow. Roman’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the blood was being drained from it and whirling around the mage in a grotesque ball of thick black tarlike substance, mixing with something similar pouring from the mage who’s eyes were glowing white.

Roman tried very hard not to throw up as he took a few steps back, while the goo covered the mage and then formed some kind of vaguely humanoid creature of nightmares. Oh shit…

“No hurt!” Roman’s Gollum insisted. Considering the nightmare man an immediate threat to the people he was entrusted to protect. He came charging in and knocked the creature in the stomach. While it didn’t leave the dark monster unphased it didn’t send him flying. The two giant creatures started wrestling. Making the ground shake. Roman trusted that he’d at least notice should his Gollum lose and focused on the Chimera in front of him. He held his spear ready. Keeping glancing around him to see if any enemies were approaching. Most were down it seemed. Logan and Patton could probably…

“Here he goes!” Virgil’s voice warned and Roman heard a snap. A wave of green energy went through the Chimera and he rose up with a roar. Yeah, those chackles definitely had been enchanted to keep him mostly docile.

Remus took in a deep breath and next thing Roman knew he breathed a blast of fire at his Gollum and the mage. Both of whom tanked it. In fact. Roman’s creature seemed to be even stronger now and getting the upper hand in this wrestling match. Good.

The Chimera breathed in again and this next blast was aimed at the room. Where Roman’s friends were. No way.

“Hey! Jackass!” He called out. Drawing the beasts attention. “Yeah! You want to fire on my friends you gotta start with me!” he demanded. The idea was crazy. And he wasn’t sure if he had enough energy to pull it off more than once but hopefully that would be enough time for Virgil to figure out how to calm his friend down.

Roman couldn’t back out now because it seemed like Remus was happy to oblige and unleashed the full force of his fire on him.

Roman responded by setting his magic free. Hoping to absorb the fire the way his Gollum had. Begging his guide, the bird that was born in fire, to not let the flames that were both death and birth to him consume him. To let him consume them instead.

His inner fire seemed to grow bigger as he felt the flames engulf him… But they didn’t hurt.

They were… Energy. An ocean of warm energy he could draw from… No, he could be a part off.

He was energy. He was fire… He was magic. He understood it now…

The flames were gone and Roman’s fire raged like never before. “Bad kitty,” he growled.

He heard chaos behind him, people fleeing. Seeing him tank that attack probably wasn’t great for moral. The source of their power had said Die and he said No thank you. Probably looked pretty cool.

Remus cocked his head curiously. Trying to figure out why the annoying little guy wasn’t burned extra crispy.

Then Virgil flew right in front of his face and he was distracted. He made a few rounds and Remus tried to catch him. Virgil flew up through the shaft which was just barely big enough for Remus to follow him through, Star took on his magic form again and followed after them.

The mage monster wailed and tried to grab for his captive. But Roman’s Gollum wasn’t having it.

“Everybody out!” Logan instructed right before the temple started shaking. Clearly a chimera climbing up through the sun tunnel was the last straw.

Roman reached for the ground and willed all bindings undone. The cult members were more concerned with survival than fighting now and rushed up the stairs, followed by Roman and his friends. They couldn’t exactly have them escape the guards.

Coming up on the first floor they saw a collective of guards had been ready to descend down to clear the last floor, the floor they were on now void of cult members.

Good.

“Get upstairs, we’ll worry about arrests when we’re all alive!” Roman insisted. All but two. His Gollum was still holding down the cursed mage and they would be the only ones lost today if Roman had a say in it. He was sad for his creation’s fate. But he was proud of him. He hoped it knew that.

The soldiers followed his orders and hurried up to warn their comrades that might still be in the crumbling building to hurry to the surface.

Roman noticed the chalice was gone as he rushed past the altar. Taken for evidence no doubt.

They rushed up the stairs the walls all around caving to pressure. Gods Roman hoped hat Virgil and his friend got to the surface okay.

“Get back!” Logan warned as they got to the top floor, the bookcases emptied and the supply closets were likely the same.

A piece of ceiling was coming down and that would have meant a watery grave for the three of them, five soldiers and 4 cult members if not for Logan halting the process and reversing it. From what Roman could tell he had put the entire room in a temporary stasis. The structure was trapped in the moments before the building started collapsing.

“Hurry!” Logan growled, prompting the group to rush up the stairs, Logan slowly backing towards them. Roman and Patton waited for him to drop the spell so they could all make it to the surface together.

They’d make it… They had to make it…

Roman fell to his knees in relief as they made it to the surface. After he took a moment to catch his breath he looked up… Everything looked in order. He counted 35 cult members arrested. Good. That was good.

“Oh! There they are!” Patton announced.

Roman looked up and saw a Chimera and something flying make it to the shore a long sprint ahead.

He looked to the knights and something caught his eye. A scissor blade. A unique sort of weapon and one he knew in his gut belonged to that Remus fellow.

“Good work everyone we’ll report back later. We need to finish up some business first. I’ll take that,” he said, grabbing the weapon and rushing* towards Virgil who’d just taken human form and was slowly approaching his friend.

They watched as the distance between them and the reunion got smaller and smaller and Virgil managed to put the moon crystal around the lion neck, making his friend turn into a man.

A big buff man, with hair like a lion’s mane with a streak of gray, his bare back covered in scales and his legs those of a goat. “Oh my,” Patton breathed as they slowed their pace to not ruin the no doubt emotional moment by barging in.

The man cracked his neck.

“Remus… I… I’m so glad to see you… I’m sorry it took so long. I…”

Remus held out his hand and the scissor blade disappeared from Roman’s hand into his own.

And just as they arrived… Virgil’s head fell to the ground. The lights in his shocked eyes dimming before them.

*Don’t run with Scissors kids.

[thomashewittmybeloved]

Jealous of a jock

pairing: Ted Logan x reader

summary : You've been friends with Ted and Bill for years now, being an inseparable trio. But Ethan, a jock from your class, desperately needs your help to study for an upcoming History exam. Ted doesn't really like this new friendship and tries his best to make you understand how he feels about it.

Warnings : obv jealousy and a kinda possessive Ted but other than that, it's pretty light! just like every fanfic writer ever, English isn't my first language so keep that in mind while reading!

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I took a deep breath as I walked into the library, trying to calm my nerves. Today was another tutoring session with Ethan, one of the jock's from school. I had been helping him with his history homework for the past few weeks, and despite our very different social circles, we had become quite good friends. We started talking when our History teacher put us together for an oral presentation about the Roman Empire, about how it was founded. When we started working on it, Ethan immediately noticed how much of an History nerd I am, which at first, I was kind of scared of, since he's a stereotypical jock that could make fun of me for knowing so much about "old dudes in dresses".

But, to my suprise, he was more impressed than anything and quite friendly. We clicked the moment I noticed how much he tried to help, even if he didn't understand anything. Our presentation was a success; 18/20, that's when he asked to be his tutor. My friendship with Ethan became quite good, I grew more and more attached to him, which seemed to be causing some problems with Ted, problems that I didn't get why even started.

He just grew more distant and cold towards me, while Bill stayed the same so it really is personal. So his new attitude explains why, right now, it's so awkward between us. I told him I couldn't eat with him and Bill because I promised to help Ethan during lunch, which ended in Ted insisting to, at least, make the walk to the library with me. Of course I said yes, I missed hanging out with him too, but maybe I would have said no if I knew how silent he would be....

As Ted and I continued walking down the stairs, I noticed him staring at me with a look of concern so, I took this opportunity to break the uncomfortable silence. "What's wrong, Ted?" I asked, trying to figure out what was going on. "You've been quiet all the way. Which, coming from you, is really concerning."

"Y/N, I don't like you hanging out with Ethan all the time." Ted blurred out, looking down.

"What? Why not?" I asked, surprised by his sudden change in behavior. Where is this coming from?

"He's a jock, dude."

"Oh." I said, understanding. "Ted, you really don't have to worry about this, he's actually really nice ! Nicer than I would've thought too." I smiled at Ted, to no avail; he still refused to look back at me.

"You're supposed to be hanging out with us, not him...We're your friends," He mumbled, his tone turning accusatory.

"I know you guys are my friends, Ethan just needs my help. He's failing History class and I'm the only one who can help him." I explained, hoping that he would understand. "Also, I'm allowed to have other friends. You're not the only guys I can help with History, you know."

"You're spending all your time with him! We don't get to hang out anymore !" Ted protested. "We also need your help dude for, like, History stuff..." He rubbed the back of his neck, walking farther away from me.

"I'm sorry, Ted, but I have to help him. I promise I'll make time for us too !" I assured him, hoping to ease his worries but by the look on his face, none of what I was saying was comforting him.

"Fine..." Ted sighed, his frustration evident. "Just make sure you don't forget about us. We miss hanging out with you dudette."

"I won't forget about you, Ted. You're both my best friends !" I said, giving him a reassuring smile while gently rubbing his arm up and down. "You're also too loud to forget."

He laughs, making my cheek redden slightly. Finally, here's the Ted I know ! He stops suddenly once we arrive in front of the library.

I look up at him with a shy smile. "I should go." I say, quieter than intended.

He simply waves at me before turning around, walking away, way too quickly. As I watch him go, I feel something tug at my heart, some sort of longing. I sigh, going in, ready to help Ethan.

As the days went by, I noticed that Ted was becoming more and more distant. He would barely talk to me and when he did, it was always about how much he missed hanging out with me. I tried to reassure him that I still cared about him and Bill, but it didn't seem to make a difference, no matter what I said. A few days ago, he commented about how I lied when I said I would make time for them. I didn't respond, not knowing what to say to that. He's usually so carefree, I wasn't expecting such an attitude from him, it took me by surprise. We haven't talked since...As I was walking to my next class, Ethan caught up to me in the hallway, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, Y/N, you free tonight? I need some help with my homework !" he asked, flashing me a smile.

"Sure, Ethan. I'll meet you in the library after school." I replied, feeling a twinge of guilt for not spending more time with Ted and Bill, by accepting his offer without thinking twice. Maybe I was getting a little too attached to Ethan.

"Wait, do you have your Spanish class today?" He asked, smirking. "Because my deutsch teacher isn't here."

"Oh no, she's absent too!" We laugh at that realisation. "Well, I guess we can study right now then."

He comes next to me, taking my bag from my shoulders. "Hey !" I gasp, surprised. "You have to stop doing that, I already told you I can carry my bag myself."

"And I told you I can also carry your bag Y/N !" He winks at me, making me roll my eyes. "You're helping me for free so this is my way of paying you." He replies, walking shoulder to shoulder with me.

"What a gentleman..."

I took a deep breath to calm myself as I walked into the library with Ethan, still laughing from what he said. Today was another day I spent doing a tutoring session with Ethan, instead of hanging out with Bill and Ted.

I felt a heavy gaze on me as soon as we entered so, I looked around, until I saw Ted sitting at a table with Bill, both of them staring at me. Bill smiled when I noticed them while Ted just hung his head low. I turn around to Ethan, asking him to take a table for us. After he left, I took another deep breath, preparing myself for whatever mood Ted was in. "Hey guys," I said, walking over to their table. "What's up?"

"Nothing much dude !" Bill said, grinning. "Just waiting for you to show up, we were gonna go grab some pizza's and slushies !"

Ted didn't say anything, just focusing on his fidgety fingers. I frowned, feeling a pang of guilt for how he felt. "I'm sorry, guys. I can't today. I have a tutoring session with Ethan, his test is next week. He barely remembers when the Cold War was so we have a lot of work to do !"

Ted's head snapped up at the mention of Ethan. "Again ? You're always hanging out with him. Don't you have any time for us dude?"

I felt my face flush, taken aback by his tone. There it was again... "I'm sorry, Ted. I'm just trying to help him out. It's not like we're doing anything wrong." I clutched my arm, trying to stay calm. "We talked about this already; I'm helping him, he needs my help."

"Maybe he's using you for your, like, brain dude." He looked back down. "You don't know..."

I bristled, feeling defensive. "He's a nice guy, Ted. And I can be friends with whoever I want." I crossed my arms. "Why are you so angry about this ? You're usually so chill about everything, why is this specific thing getting to you so much ?"

"Yeah dude, what's with the attitude?" Joined Bill, just as confused as me. "Be nicer to the babe."

Ted's jaw clenched as he stood up abruptly. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't expect me to sit around waiting for you all the time." He paused, looking at both of us with wide eyes. "I'm hungry anyways."

He stormed out of the library, leaving Bill and me staring at him in shock.

"What the hell was that about?" Bill muttered, looking up at me.

I shook my head, feeling just as confused as him.

"I don't know. He's just been acting weird lately." I sigh, rubbing my hand down my face. "Since I started to help Ethan he's like that... I don't understand why tho."

"Maybe he's jealous," Bill suggested, raising an eyebrow.

I scoffed. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Of Ethan," Bill responded, shrugging. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together. Maybe Ted feels left out, I don't know." Bill smiled knowingly at me. "I mean, you did walk in here laughing while he was carrying your bag, dude."

"I, what ?" I think about it for a moment, still shaking my head. "Why would he mind about that ? Ted never carried my bag before..."

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew that Bill was right. Ted had always been a little possessive of me, I just had never thought it was anything serious. We just always had each other so, I simply thought he was afraid I would leave for the more popular kids, maybe it's deeper than that... I look at Bill for an instant, noticing his open notebook.

"Hey, you want to study with me and Ethan ?" I asked, smiling. "I could help you with the Charlemagne chapter."

Bill face immediately lightened up. "It would be most excellent dudette !"

The next week, I had another tutoring lesson scheduled with Ethan, as always. He had his test in two days so this was THE moment to study. It's been days since I saw Ted, I had glimpse of him sometimes in the hallways, he would walk past me after quickly glancing my way. I tried to not overthink it but it was hard, I was missing him an awful lot... Not seeing it everyday of every minute just reminded me how much I like him, how bad my crush on him is.

As I walked into the library to join Ethan who sat at our usual table, I saw Ted sitting alone, looking dejected as always. With my heart starting to pound, I walked up to him, hating how our last conversation ended. The moment I approached his table, he looked up before quickly adverting his eyes, sitting up straight.

"Hey, Ted, what are you doing here?" I asked, kind of surprised to see him here of all places. He usually never hangs out in the library expect if we have to study, he seems to be here quite a lot lately.

"I thought I'd surprise you and come help you tutor Ethan..." Ted said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Bill told him you helped him after, you know."

"Really? That's great, Ted!" I said, genuinely happy to see him and especially hear him say that. "Oh yeah, it's great !" I grasped his hand without thinking, dragging him to me and Ethan's table. When he noticed us approach, Ethan smiled nicely. "What's up?" he asked while Ted sat on the chair next to me. "You're Theo, right?" Ethan asked, putting his fist in front of him.

"Ted." He responded simply, fist bumping Ethan's hand with hesitation.

"Right, Ted, my bad man."

"He's really bad with names." I murmured, trying to ease the atmosphere. " Especially Napoléon Bonaparte, he cannot remember his name even if his life depended on it..."

"Hey, that French guy as a hard name ok !" Replied Ethan, his hand up in surrender.

"Napoleon ?" Repeated Ted, before turning to me. "Oh the little angry French dude ?"

Ethan brust out laughing at that, earning us a shush from the librarian. We giggled quietly, Ted shoulders relaxing lightly and is usual smile finally appaering again.

"Guys, guys, let's focus ok ? The test is in two days !" I say in the most neutral voice possible, not succeeding to stop my growing smile from appearing at Ted's one. "Ok, so what famous battle did Napoléon Bonaparte loose ?"

Three hours later, we finally get out of there, sighing loudly. Ethan's leave's us quickly, having a football practice, leaving me and Ted alone in front of the library. I quickly glance at him but feel heat rise to my cheeks when I see that he was already looking at me, a big smile on his lips.

"You were right dudette ! Ethan is a nice dude !" He pat's my shoulder. "He as a most excellent humour."

I laugh, nudging Ted shoulder with mine. "Told you." I respond, adjusting my bag on my shoulder, groaning.

"I can carry it if you want !" Before I can even reply, he takes it from me and slings it over his available shoulder. "There ! Now we're ready to go !"

"Why do you all think I can't carry my own bag ?!" I complain, while catching up with Ted who already started walking. I stop my thoughts for a moment, thinking back on what Billy said to me a few days ago. I look back at Ted who's still smiling, moving his head to the beat of an invisible song. That's when it hits me, finally. I stop in my track, also stopping Ted by putting my hand on his arm. "What's up dude ?" He asks, turning around to face me. "Y/N ?"

"You were jealous of me and Ethan." I whisper, realising it as I say it. "But, not because you were afraid of losing me as...a friend."

Ted eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over his face. "What do you mean?"

"You were jealous, yes ?" I ask, looking up at him. "Be honest."

He's hesitant for a moment, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I mean, yeah...like, kinda. I was afraid he was, you know, mean and stuff." He shrugges, his gaze looking at everything but me. "Turns out he's nice ! And his exam is in two days, so you'll be free again !"

"Ted..."

"Yes ?" He responds, looking at me again, his smile fading when he see's my expression. "Y/N ?"

"Are you..." I gulp, feeling my hand starting to shake. "Ted, I have to admit something to you. I don't know if I'm reading what's happening in the wrong way but I have to try, just in case I'm right." His brows furrow again, now he looks even more lost than before. "Give me my bag, just in case I'm wrong so that I can run away quickly." I chuckle nervously.

"What ?" He laughs quickly "Why would you ran away dude ?"

"I like you." I blur out, looking him dead in the eyes. "Not in a you're my best friend way but in a I want to be way more than your best friend way." I quickly swallow, feeling my courage fade. "I mean, not super mega best friend way either. Romantic way, like couples." I search his eyes. "Ted ?" I ask, my heart hammering in my chest. "Please, say something..."

"Woah dude..." He whispers, taking his head in his hands. "DUDE !"

I jump at his sudden yelling but can't help a laugh when I see him jumping around, punching the air yelling dude and woah multiples time. He suddenly stops, looking at me with the widest smile I've ever seen him have.

"DUDE !" He yells again, running towards me, lifting me in his arms while I yelp.

"Ted ! Oh my god, what are you doing ?!" I laugh while he spins me around. "I'm going to fall, I'll fall !" I breath out, felling my body slip away from his arms. "Ted, what's happening with you ?" I laugh, out of breath while he puts me down, his arms still holding me close to him.

"What's happening ? Dude, you told me you're in love with me !" He responds quickly, his voice trembling. "The most bodacious babe just told me she likes me ! Like, in a romantic way !"

I push him a bit to look at him, surprised. "Wait, does that mean..."

He cuts me off. "Of course it does ! Why would I spin you around ?"

"Do you even know yourself ? You could do it at any given opportunity!" I laugh, in disbelief. "So, I was right, you were jealous of Ethan."

Ted lower his head, his hair covering his face to hide his shamefulness. "Yeah... I mean, the guy's has everything. He's popular, handsome, nice and a jock. Bonus point for being funny !"

I smile tenderly, taking his face in my hands to put his gaze back into mine.

"True. He's veeeery handsome." Ted huff, trying to look away but I turn his face again to make him look back at me. "But I prefer guys with brown hair and eyes, who wear silly jackets with a big smiling face behind, rather than a sport's one. I also prefer guys with a blond friend called Bill. You want me to continue or you got it ?"

I feel the heat radiating from his face on my fingers, if seeing how red he was wasn't enough. We only look at each other for a moment, letting everything sink in.

"I really want to kiss you." He breaths out. "Can I kiss you ?"

"After you apologies."

"I'm sorry for being an evil dude. I shouldn't have ignored such a babe just because of a nice jock guy."

I giggle when he gives my cheek a quick peck. "And I'm sorry for not taking the time to hang out with you and Bill, I should have. I swear that from this day on, I will no matter what !" I finish my speech by returning his quick peck, making him giggle. "Now you can kiss me handsome."

He blushes at the pet name before crashing his lips on mine without a warning, making me yelp in surprise. Quickly, I compose myself and slide my hands to his hair to deepen the kiss while they move in rhythm with one another. It's clumsy, so we smile and giggle through it, he even apologies some times which I always respond with a simple it's ok before pulling him back for more. He doesn't have to be jealous, because no matter how messy and inexperienced our kisses are, I only want his.

"This was the most excellent kiss ever !"

[sharingmystoriesetc]

Faber suae fortunae

Or Maider's love story towards freedom.

81 A.D.

Maider's life had never been easy.

Firstly, because of her family.

Her mother, an authentic oriental beauty, according to her father, had died giving birth to her.

And her father, a jewish nobleman and intellectual fallen into disgrace, had entrusted her to the Ben-Hur family, in the beautiful Jerusalem.

There, Maider had grown up as a sister to the family's heirs, learning to read, write, and do arithmetic. She had been educated to be Sarah Ben-Hur's maid of honor, who was her age. The two had become friends, and Sarah and the rest of the family loved Maider dearly.

They loved her sense of humor, her playfulness, and her voice.

Maider, in fact, had a wonderful singing voice. Clear, powerful. Juda Ben-Hur told her she was the most talented singer in all Jerusalem. Maider didn’t think it was true, but the praise never failed to make her blush.

Her father Jeremiah visited her from time to time, and every single time he taught her a new song. When Maider sang, time seemed to stop. And Maider could feel a strong connection to the divine, with whom she had never had, in her opinion, a good relationship.

Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

The Romans oppression to Jewish people was growing stronger, and one day, a Roman officer visiting Jerusalem saw Maider at the market and ordered his soldiers to take her as a slave. As a possession of the Empire.

She, a young woman with thin light eyes and straight dark hair, would fetch a lot of money as a slave for a wealthy Roman family, and would be a perfect lover for him during the voyage back to Rome.

Maider, blessed with an extraordinarily strong personality and resilience, couldn’t help but burst into tears.

The Ben-Hur family couldn’t do anything but try to persuade the Roman officer. But it was all useless.

Maider was chained and taken to Jaffa’s port.

Her father desperately ran after her, shouting to try to buy her freedom, but a legionnaire struck him with the hilt of a dagger, leaving him unconscious on the street.

Maider started screaming, but the legionnaire gave her the same treatment as her father.

And everything went black.

***

Maider woke up in chains, being pushed to board a ship.

In fact, a merchant ship bound for Rome, as she had learned.

She tried to wriggle out of the grasp of the legionnaire who held her chains tightly, but it was all in vain.

As soon as the Roman officer saw her, despite the huge bruise on her temple, he found her very exotic and beautiful, and with a smirk, ordered her to be taken to his cabin.

Maider was thrown into the officer’s cabin as the ship set sail.

She and the man looked at each other. He was handsome, but his dark eyes transmitted coldness and toughness. He looked at her like a butcher watches a piece of meat.

Maider shivered.

He had a defined physique. If she rebelled, he would overpower her in seconds. So, instinctively, she held out her hands.

"Wait, slow down. Let's be reasonable for a second”.

The officer gave her a puzzled look.

"I was told you were educated, but not that you spoke my language so well”.

"I speak several languages. And I also know that my value as a slave would decrease if you got me pregnant”.

He smirked.

"We'll take that risk”.

Maider shivered again, but did not show it.

"Listen, I beg you. I can make it enjoyable. I'm a virgin; you'll sell me better in Rome with that characteristic. But I've heard stories. Ways I can satisfy you without you taking my virtue”.

He laughed.

"I know what you're talking about. But it's not as satisfying”.

"I can imagine. But let me try. I'm not the only slave on this ship, and I'm sure there are other women just as beautiful whose virtue is less important than mine”.

Maider felt like sinking for what she had said, but she had to stay alert. At that moment, it was life or death.

She didn’t know that, but she had been lucky. The officer was smarter than the average. He quickly realized that with some adjustments, he could get the best out of the situation. He would humiliate the girl but preserve her virginity. And he would still sleep with any other woman he wanted. It seemed inviting to him. Something new.

"All right, young slave. Show me what you can do”.

Maider tried to isolate her mind. She would have liked to cry, scream, and struggle.

But it would have been useless.

The officer had to think she was strong, intelligent, and cunning, at least as much as he was.

No matter how much he humiliated her, he had to consider her his equal.

Only then would she arrive in Rome unharmed.

She gave him a lascivious look and approached him.

***

Twenty days of hell.

Twenty days in which Maider managed not to be violated but humiliated herself in every possible way.

Twenty days in which she slept in the officer’s cabin, on the floor, letting herself cry only when he was asleep.

Twenty days in which she almost lost herself. Almost. Because in moments of solitude, she sang her parents’ songs to herself and felt she was not alone.

Once arrived in Ostia, the passage to Rome was without particular problems.

The other slaves on the ship called her the “officer’s whore," and whenever they saw her, they did not spare her insults.

Fortunately, at Ostia they were divided. She, as she would later understand, was among the high-ranking slaves destined for noble Roman families.

She was cleaned and well-dressed.

In Rome, they put a sign around her neck and pushed her onto a small stage.

She was in the Esquiline, a noble area full of villas and beautiful buildings.

Despite this, she observed the faces of her potential future masters, terrified.

A tear ran down her cheek. Fighting on that ship had been useless: she would become the slave of a ruthless Roman, and who knew what he would do to her.

She thought of Jerusalem. The Ben-Hur's house, her friends, the life she had considered difficult, which now seemed like paradise.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real gem here! A 25-year-old slave from Jerusalem. No, she's not entirely Jewish: look at her thin eyes. Her origins are from the far East. An exotic and educated virgin jewel, a girl everyone would want in their home!"

Sneers and smirks among the bystanders. The noblewomen observed her impassively.

Maider held back a sob.

"The auction starts at one thousand sesterces!"

And, for no apparent reason, she began to sing:

"You can't take my past

You can't take my history

You could take my pa, but his name's a mystery..."

At that very moment, the Aedile Ludi was passing through the market. He was a thirty-three-year-old man, not too tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. Once the king of the Suburra for his shady dealings, he had recently left the neighborhood to live in the Esquiline. That morning, he was leaving home to go to his betting tavern, which still earned him a certain income and from which, for some reason, he could not separate himself.

That man was named Tenax.

And hearing her singing, he stopped abruptly.

He then met her gaze.

Green eyes into blue eyes.

For a moment, time stood still.

Maider stopped singing, looking at him.

The auctioneer took the opportunity to grab her chin.

"What did I tell you? A constant surprise, this exotic jewel!”

Maider looked at him with disgust. Struggling.

"Get your hands off me!"

The man slapped her.

Usually, Tenax would not intervene. He was a man of gray morality, but for some reason, this time he felt he should act.

He met the girl's gaze again.

He was captivated.

He stepped forward and said:

"I offer three thousand sesterces!"

The auctioneer looked at him in silence.

Maider looked at him in silence.

The bystanders looked at him in silence.

"Oh, Aedile Ludi..." murmured the man, "All right. She's yours, if you want her”.

"Yes”.

And he signaled for the girl to come down from the stage.

Maider obeyed, eager to escape the grasp of that horrible man.

Tenax grabbed her by the arm, handed the man a bag of money, and together they walked towards home.

***

Maider looked at him with a mix of fear and fascination.

Fascinated because she found him to be a handsome man.

Afraid because she feared that behind those big blue eyes hid a violent man who would take advantage of her without pity.

After all, he hadn't even untied her.

Among the thousand doubts occupying her mind, an uncertain question escaped her lips:

"Who are you?"

He was surprised to hear her speak.

"My name is Tenax”.

"I am Maider. What does it mean that you are an… ehm, Aedile Ludi?"

Tenax gave her an even more surprised look. Was she a talker, or was it anxiety making her babble?

"That I oversee the games at the Flavian Amphitheater and the Circus Maximus”.

"Oh. So you're an engineer”.

"Are you studying me?"

Maider met his gaze. He understood her immediately. She appreciated his sharpness with a bit of fear.

"When I'm nervous, I tend to babble. Not knowing what you want to do with me makes me nervous”.

Tenax felt exposed. The girl was right: what the hell did he want to do with her? She was too clever to relegate her to washing the floors of his large villa.

Indeed, and he hated to admit it, he found her far too interesting to make her a simple slave.

"You will stay with me. I have a housekeeper who will assign you tasks. Done with the questions?"

"Actually, no. But if you command me to be silent, I will”.

Tenax sighed.

"Actually, I don't know what I prefer. Slaves are usually few of words”.

"Until a couple of weeks ago, I was a free person. I was educated in a great Jewish family. I can read, write, do arithmetic..."

"And sing”.

They met each other's gaze again. Maider blushed.

"Only for a selected few”.

Tenax wanted to laugh but did not show it. He saw her open and close her hands: her wrists were still tied.

"If I untie you, will you run away?"

"I would get lost after five minutes”.

"Probably”.

He paused for a moment and cut the ropes tying her wrists with a dagger. Maider sighed in relief, massaging the abrasions.

"Thank you, Tenax”.

He gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

Once they arrived home, Tenax knocked on the door.

"Claudia! It's me”.

After a few seconds, a middle-aged woman moved the heavy door aside.

"Tenax. I wasn't expecting you so early”.

Then her eyes fell on the girl. With an eloquent look, she asked her master who she was.

"Her name is Maider. I want you to show her the house. If you have any particularly heavy tasks, get her to help. Get to know each other”.

With that, and with a nod of his head, he left.

Claudia extended her hand.

"Come, dear”.

Maider smiled softly at her, taking it.

***

Hey! It's Eli here. Thank you for reading! Let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter and if you want to read more ❤️

Here you have Maider and Tenax ❤️

[drewtanakagf]

So i was scrolling through the drew tanaka tag as one does and found this post by @curseofdelos that i was like !!!!! about, and i read through it and I was like. Yes, but also… 

So this is my also. I suggest reading the post first as it does very well in explaining the issues with Piper and Drew’s writing and why that’s harmful. 

But I’d like to take it a step further and extrapolate to the bigger picture of cabin 10. 

What about the boys? 

TL;DR: There are a lot of in-text and meta negotiations of masculinity versus femininity that occur in /influence PJO/HOO, and that leaves boys in the Aphrodite Cabin in an awkward limbo. 

Before we get into the nitty gritty, I first want to establish that masculinity is not femininity. Which like, duh, but that means that anything that is not masculine can and will be considered feminine. Point blank, no nuance (There is a literature backing, but I think its a bit too much, so I’ll just put it at the end if you wanna find the article I’m referring to). 

And that’s what Rick is operating on, while you can’t deny it is a spectrum, at the time of writing TLH and such, there was a general societal understanding of masculinity as being macho and strong and rejecting softness for hardcore or whatever. And this positioning is where femininity comes in, and where we can begin to talk about Cabin 10. 

Rick writes Cabin 10 as inherently feminine, thus attaching “beauty” to this narrow idea; best shown through describing the cabin as a Barbie house and Piper's claiming ordeal. It is a place where there is nothing “masculine,” leading to the stereotype of Aphrodite kids not being able to fight, since war is masculine and thus out of their purview. 

This does deconstruct with Silena and then Piper, but the existence of Drew proves that it is still upheld and important enough to the story. 

I do believe that Rick tried to have his “oh you can still be feminine without being hyper feminine!” moment with Piper & Drew’s conflict, however, he failed to give Drew enough agency to make it seem like there was a genuine conflict rather than just “mean girl v girl-next-door.” (again, @curseofdelos explained it very well, go read!). 

Now with the girls out of the way, the boys are kinda… lost in the sauce? The only Aphrodite boy we get is Mitchell and it is very telling that a lot of people hc him as gay… which again is the posturing of masculinity vs femininity and whatever is not masculine is therefore feminine. And being gay is being attracted to masculinity and this feminine etc etc (according to societal norms). The fact that he is the only male Aphrodite kid rep is again, telling and really affirms the inherent femininity of Cabin 10. 

“Hey! He’s not the only ‘Aphrodite’ Kid! What about Michael!” And Michael just further proves my point! He’s the son of Venus, and Roman counterparts are considered as more “warlike” than their Greek ones. War being considered masculine and a rejection of femininity, as established earlier w/ Cabin 10 kids not being warriors. Now, Micheal exists as a (hyper) masculine counterpoint to Drew’s (hyper) feminine, making the Roman Venus a direct opposite as the Greek Aphrodite. 

This is actually, kinda commendable in terms of plot, since it helps reinforce the differences between Greek and Roman and how extreme they were. Great storytelling device, bad everything else. 

One more thing I want to touch on is the vilification of femininity, and why it must be rejected in the pjo/hoo. You can only fight if you adopt masculine traits, and therefore not fighting and still surviving means that you are doing something dishonorable like, abusing charmspeak (Drew) or using magic (Circe, Medea, etc) or even spying (Silena). Which is a very masculine idea, of how things should be solved by violence ( i mean, look at violence perpetrated by men compared to women in our society…) I think I’ve said this before, but in Piper’s arc, there needs to be an antagonist to prove how she doesn’t “fit in” at CHB, and create that tension of her either choosing to save her father and betray or continue the quest as is; and that antagonist ended up being Drew, and that makes sense bc Cabin 10 is against what Piper is characterized as, and she just is a rejection of that femininity. 

Anyways, let me not get away from myself. Basically, within the story, there is no real opportunity for the characters to reject gender stereotypes without falling into others. And Rick wrote himself into that hole. 

Literature Referenced: Shippers, Mimi. “Masculinity and Femininity, Theories of.” The Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia of Gender and Sexuality Studies, 2016. Edited by Nancy A. Naples. John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

[murfpersonalblog]

Murf's AMA: Mayfair Witches

@adamnablelittledevil you sent me such an incredibly lovely & thorough ask that I wanted to address every single point you made. So I'm breaking your PM up into separate AMA-style posts. Thank you SO much!

"And your comments on the stories really help! I don't know if I'll agree with you, but you're able to say something I can completely comprehend without spoilers and give me an idea of how they are, so thank you!"

Any time! Yes, my particular stance on AR's Mayfair books is largely based on my own personal fascination with different IRL conceptions of the afterlife, and how IRL witchcraft/magic/divination/necromancy all fits in wrt communing with the spirits of the dead/undead. So reading The Witching Hour completely rewired my brain--I owe AR a huge debt. Her ghost stories just give me everything I need.

"The way you described Lasher sounds terrifying. 👀 I wonder if it is as bad as Lestat's turning, the story of the twins or the Roman Coven killing the palazzo boys and torturing Armand because those were the darkest moments of TVC for me (I ignore what she pulled on TTOTBT). Is it just as heavy or worse?"

Hrm. It's complicated for me. Like, IMO Armand has hands down THE worst & most sympathetic backstory out of all the TVC characters (except Claudia). Kidnapped & gaslit & brainwashed by a satanic cult, and abandoned by the one person you trusted & loved the most when you failed to meet his ridiculously high standards/expectations.... IMO Armand is the strongest character to have withstood all that for so long and still come out the other side with his soul intact, omg.

As for Lasher, it's the totality of his iron grip over the Mayfairs for 500+ years that makes me personally put his treatment of people on the same/similar level as the Children of Satan.

There's no one Mayfair I feel particularly sadder or better for; it's them as a collective whole. There's things Lasher does to some of the Mayfairs that is just...it's graphic. With Armand it's different, cuz of the heavily romanticized & disjointed way he often tells his story. The gothic horror comes from seeing the ways traumatized people reflect on the bad things that happened to them--Armand's memory is just as spotty as Louis' sometimes; and the way he talks about Marius alllll the way to Blood Communion makes the fandom divided on what we're supposed to do with them.

But with the Mayfairs, there's no sugar-coating the carnage or softening/obfuscating the blows at all--AR describes things viscerally & graphically & explicitly in a way that you CANNOT excuse Lasher for. Even at the end of Lasher, when they "Let the devil speak his story," the prophecy (AR's Word of God) has already decided that his pretty words & excuses & tragic backstory don't effing matter in the end--he WILL be killed. Cuz he is 100% a PREDATOR, NOT a problematic love interest with abusive/grooming tendencies (a la Lestat & Marius).

Like, the vast majority of the TVC/IWTV fandom laughs at incest wrt Lestat & Gabrielle, cuz Lestat romanticizes so much of his trauma that it's hard sometimes to take it seriously. But incest with the Mayfairs is no laughing matter. It's sheer horror that's supposed to make you darn near physically ill reading about how much Lasher's twisted & manipulated everything. He's a MONSTER, eff how much he cries.

Granted, I still think the Mayfairs were awful immoral people, in ways that I don't see Armand. Unlike a brainwashed cult member, the Mayfairs KNEW Lasher was evil and that everything he gave them was tainted by his evil deeds. They call him the Devil. Unlike the Twins, they didn't control spirits ethically, in order to help their community and work towards the betterment of their society--they controlled Lasher selfishly, in order to gain riches & power. They think they can outsmart him, and pay the price.

But because they're women, they're vulnerable by default, as they lived during the Middle Ages & Tudor period & all these other times when women were being systemically persecuted by the Church; and then domestically oppressed at home as their husbands had full legal control over their bodies AND their money. The Mayfair designees completely buck the system; they're entirely matriarchal, but their power STILL comes from a demonic patriarch. So I sympathize with the lengths they felt they needed to go to, to remain at the top of the social pyramid--even if they were slaves to their greedy desires, and slaves to Lasher, as he manipulated them into thinking it was the reverse. They're victims and villains, in the best & worst of ways that always makes AR's characters so dang complex & interesting.

I think what happens to them is beyond effed up, but sometimes certain witches (*cough* Margueritte, Julien, Rowan, etc) I feel kinda deserved it???? But not even, cuz there's so much incest & mental illness in their family too, which makes me go Dang! They're not right in the head, so is it even fair to even blame them for all this? And ofc a ghost is LITERALLY manipulating them. But at what point does personal responsibility & accountability come in, esp. for Rowan?

Like, even Carlotta's evil arse has a lot in common with Coven Master Armand's most extreme(ly bad) actions--someone I absolutely love. So why do I hate her? When really, she was right all along! Her extremist draconian methods SUCKED; but if she got The Witch Carlotta book the way we got TVA, would my opinion of her change? More than likely! (Unless it was more like Blood & Gold, in which case....bye Felicia. 🙄😒)

So yeah, I see the Mayfairs as very similar to the Children of Satan, but flipped--they worship the Devil to get rich; NOT cuz they think they're inherently evil & deserve to suffer (a la Armand & the other vampires).

[storyofmychoices]

Happy Birthday, @lilyoffandoms!!!

You are the most lovely, talented, generous, and all around amazing person. I am beyond lucky to have you in my life, as Daenarya is to have Maiele in hers. I hope you enjoy this portrait of our silly besties by the wonderful ArtbyAinna (IG) as well as the little drabble that goes with it. Have the most amazing day! Love you always!

A Royal Portrait

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) ; Tyril Starfury x Maiele (MC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Word Count: ~900 Rating: General, no warnings

Synopsis: Daenarya and Maiele pose for a royal portrait.

Mal Volari and Tyril Starfury found themselves in the elegant gardens of the White Tower palace. Rich tapestries and gilded frames adorned the walls of the halls that led them there. The garden itself teemed with vibrantly colored flora and was bathed in warm, beautiful sunlight. Before them stood Daenarya and Maiele, their partners, radiant in their regal attire, posing for a portrait. The air was filled with a sense of nobility, and the room was abuzz with whispers of admiration for the pair's noted accomplishments in saving the realm of light. 

A mischievous smile spread on Mal's face as he sprawled across a lavish red velvet chair, one leg hanging over the armrest. He watched Daenarya with unabashed adoration as she hugged close to Maiele, the pair wearing matching grins. His gaze drifted to Tyril, who stood aloof, his stoic demeanor a stark contrast to Mal's own. 

As the artist worked diligently, Daenarya and Maiele shared secrets in hushed tones too quiet for anyone to overhear, their laughter echoing through the space. An occasional reminder by the artist to keep still kept them in check.

Mal's eyes sparkled as he tried to decipher their whispers. He was certain he could read lips. He thought he had gotten it down to a science, yet Daeanarya had assured him time and time again he wasn't even close. Whether that was true or she just wanted to keep him guessing, he could never be positively sure. Either way, it wouldn't stop him from trying.

Tyril continued observing in silence, his gaze never leaving Maiele. His face was an unreadable mask, but a faint hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, yet those who knew him were familiar with the sentiment. It hadn't left since the moment Maiele entered his life.

Mal's prolonged audible exhale broke the serene atmosphere. When his sigh didn't get the reaction he intended, he repeated the gesture louder and with a more dramatic flair, pulling the eyes of many in the room, but he was only after one.

"Are you quite alright?" Tyril scowled at his uncivilized behavior.

"Since you asked—" He slipped further into the plush cushioning. "Why do Daenarya and Maiele get a royal painting, and we don't?" he grumbled, his tone laced with playful envy. "We were there too."

"You were given the choice to have a portrait commissioned," Tyril responded, his voice measured and precise, not giving into Mal's tantrum. "However, you chose that ridiculous diamond instead." 

Mal held out the gem in question, allowing it to catch the sunlight, scattering it into a dazzling array. "This diamond deserved to be freed, not hidden away in some rich snob's collection. I did it a favor." Mal's smile grew wider as he admired the gem's brilliance. "Leaving it would have been a disservice to such a precious treasure." He hugged and petted the stone as if it were a cherished pet.

Tyril's attempt to hide his frustration failed, a subtle crease forming between his brows that betrayed him. "I hope you plan to give that to Daenarya." His tone was firm as their gazes met in shared understanding. "She's far too good for a rogue like you."

Mal's shoulders slumped in feigned defeat. "Yeah, I know," he admitted, his eyes shining as he glanced toward her. "Perhaps I could have the diamond split in half. This way she and I can have matching stones. I get a piece, and so does she. That's romantic, right?"

Tyril's patience waned with each passing moment. "I hope for your sake that was in jest."

"So, that would be a no on the romance angle?"

A quiet exhale slipped from the elf's lips, betraying his diplomatic presence. His focus returned to the subjects of the royal portrait. His muscles relaxed as his gaze once more settled on Maiele, who continued to whisper and giggle along with Daenarya. 

"Wait—" Mal interrupted the elf's thoughts again. "Why aren't you getting a portrait?" A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes; his lips spread into a sly grin. "Did you take a gem too?"

Tyril's stoic countenance faltered as it only could in the rogue's presence. His brows knit together, and he regarded Mal incredulously before composing himself. "Certainly not. I have little need for glittering trinkets or having my portrait hung in a palace to collect dust." Despite being of a noble house himself, Tyril found the concept of ostentatious displays of wealth and vanity tiresome. 

"So your portrait isn't hanging triumphantly in House Starfury at this very moment?" Mal wagged his brow at Tyril.

"If such a portrait were to hang, it would be at the request of Maiele supported by Adrina," Tyril explained, the slightest purple hue flushed on his cheeks. "I protested profusely."

"He is something, isn't he," Mal mused, his attention shifting back to the subjects of the current portrait. "They both are."

"Indeed." With one word, Tyril said so much more. The admiration in his tone and the pride filling his eyes spoke volumes. 

"Perhaps they're both too good for us," Mal quipped.

"Just this once, you may be correct." Tyril couldn't stop the smile spreading on his lips as Maiele's gaze met his. 

The pair settled into silence, watching as Daenarya and Maiele continued to share secrets and laughter, their close bond on display even from a distance. The artist's strokes captured their essence, freezing a moment of their shared happiness and devoted friendship for all eternity.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!

More about Mal x Daenarya: [Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage]

More about Tyril x Maiele [Masterlist]

[fumblingmusings]

give us some Francex Spain headcanons please

This is so long and unorganised, apologies. TL;DR - Francis is lucky Antonio is so placid, because the moments he bites back genuinely frighten him, but the status quo of him sitting neatly on top of Spain always seems to swing back around. Again, Francis is lucky Toni's life ambition is to own a cafe...

For proper context - I imagine Antonio as Castille first, then comes to represent Spain as a whole, though I imagine there will be representations of Galicia, Catalonia/Aragon etc. just like there's the regions of Japan or Picardy for France or indeed how Arthur represents the UK internationally, but of course his brothers are still very much around. So, just for why I think Francis and Antonio have a relationship which goes way back.

Francis and Antonio I imagine as a sin/cos curve... like when Francis is up high, above Toni, things are 'correct' and in their natural place. They're friendly as Antonio is such a mild mannered friendly kid he's quite content to sit and listen to Francis crow about his amazing Kings and fancy court and so on. Francis loves to brag about how it's him that's the true heir to Rome, not the Germans. Spain nods, thinking about other more important things back home.

France used Spain very much as a bulwark against the al-Andalus parts of the Iberian Peninsula - as Francis at the time of Charlemagne and thereafter loved to see himself as the saviour of Europe, so as time goes by and we zip by the occasional Castille/France team up versus England/Portugal you start to get an increasingly influential Spain by the late 15th century, and the trouble is... Toni wants the same thing as Francis. And oddly enough, he's better at getting what he wants, despite seemingly not really trying. Maybe because he is honest to goodness just a little bit less... smug? But sometimes reading Spanish history in the 1500s is going like: Oh. Well that was convenient. It's not the reality of course, but it must have been very frustrating.

Antonio also dislikes the same things as Francis. So it's interesting. When they're fighting my God do they go at it. When they're on the same side their a pretty solid duo. But I love the idea of Antonio just pissing Francis off at times, and like... sometimes just by vibing. The man's vibes are zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. And Francis - depending on his ego that day - finds it rancid. I know a lot of people don't like the way Antonio is characterised, but I love him as he is so shh. He's so disconnected at times from the reality going on around him. Only his immediate circle matters. He doesn't seem to really understand his Civil War. I think compared to Francis, who is much more in tune with his people... it gets messy.

The trouble comes because Francis is jealous, and likes his standing as number one in Europe. No-one can challenge that. But Antonio does, for a good century or even two, and maybe Antonio doesn't necessarily mean to, but his King and Queens do, or maybe Antonio finds that ambition suits him. The 15th through to mid 17th century gives him the ability to out class Francis. Maybe it's not intentional at first, but once Antonio finally grasps what he may be about to lose during the Thirty Years War and then the failing of his line of the Habsburgs... the ugliness comes out full force.

But... Like to show the overlap once Spain starts to really assert themselves in the late 15th Century, and how truly infuriated Francis must have been at points. They both have a vested interest in Italy - Antonio wins that one. Francis has a stake in Barcelona - Antonio wins that one. They both want the Low Countries. Antonio wins that one. Antonio gets Holy Roman Empire. And the actual creme de la creme... Antonio has divided the world in two with that blooming Treaty of Tordesillas. And the Pope was the one to approve that one. The Pope! The guy who says France is the most important nation for Christianity in Europe (save HRE but... oh look Spain is now Holy Roman Emperor too Jesus Christ).

Needless to say, Francis feels the universe is conspiring against him. God's not still mad about that Avignon Pope... is he?

So Francis is forever looking for ways to kick Antonio in the shins - to go back to him being the main guy in Europe, the guy who wants it and works for it and you know Francis more than anything wants to admired. Antonio... oh. Not sure what he wants more than anything really. A peaceful life. Which he did not get to have for most of his existence really. Arthur and Sadık are handy for Francis to use from time to time to deal a smack to Antonio, but otherwise it's him looking at this guy who - let's be generous - is not the most ambitious man going, who seems to just grow more and more powerful, more and more influential and it eaaaaaaaaats at Francis.

But you know. Habsburgs. Religion. War. Antonio finally understands what he stands to loose, and ah. There's the ambition and drive. But he still looses, and now there's a Bourbon in charge and he is unable to ever fully get back up to that the ascent that the Trastámaras started. Pacte de Famille pops up again and again in the 18th Century, and I like the idea of it being characterised as Francis using Antonio's love of the Italies, and the fact that Arthur is increasingly a pain in the fucking arse for the both of them. Again, both Francis and Antonio love the same things. They also hate the same things. Sometimes that thing is a god awful English dude and sometimes love and hate are indistinguishable.

Like, Francis can loathe Arthur at points, but at least Arthur works to be a pain in the arse. Toni... wants to own a cafe. And he isn't even that good at it.

[ibetonlosingroys]

Invisible String

Part 1/2

Roman Roy/Reader

You attend your boyfriend's brother's wedding.

For everyone who just wanted Roman to get one single hug at Connor's wedding.

Spoilers for S04E03 Connor’s Wedding

Read on ao3:

You stand by a floor to ceiling window, sipping on a champagne flute, wary not to drink so much you get drunk, not yet at least. By the time you hit the dance floor at the reception though, you plan on being nice and tipsy. You and Roman have a tendency to draw some attention at these events but you treasure the moments with the two of you, in front of the whole world, displaying how much you love the man you are with for everyone to see. Neither of you can really dance, but the champagne helps.

You scan the modest crowd for him as you nod politely at the discussion of table settings that Willa’s mother has wrapped you into for the past several minutes, but Roman is still nowhere to be found, having slipped off to a private room with his siblings to handle business matters. At their brother’s wedding. Because of course. Roman has kept you in the loop as best as he is able, and while he assures you repeatedly that their plan is a good one and will put them in the best position, you can’t help the tug in your heart you feel watching him slip once again into this deranged cat and mouse game with his father. You realized quickly it was naive to think he would take the sale as an opportunity to get out for good, and while it has been heartening, if not a bit foreign, to see him fall into step with his siblings in such a unified way, you’re troubled by the stress lines you can see forming on his face before he even opens his eyes in the morning. Maybe it’s time for a vacation. Not a Roy family mind fuck on a yacht, a real, honest to god vacation where you lay in the sun and don’t speak of the stock market or ATTN or Lukas Mattson.

Your daydreaming is cut off sharply when you spot Kendall and Shiv out of the corner of your eye. Exhaling deeply and subtly craning your neck, you search for a trace of your boyfriend, more than ready for him to rescue you from this conversation. However, he isn’t trailing behind like you expected him to be, he isn’t anywhere you can see. Your eyes flick back and forth as you try not to draw any unnecessary attention to whatever scheme may be in motion, but all you can see is Kendall and Shiv, hands clasped as they make a beeline for Connor. Without Roman.

Heat rushes to your ears and finally, you find enough of a break in conversation to excuse yourself, refreshing your drink in an effort to keep this flood of panic at bay. In an instant, you are back in that castle in Italy, watching helplessly as Roman falls apart in a way you didn’t think he was capable of. Your world shattered right alongside him and from that moment on you swore to yourself you’d do everything in your power to prevent anything from hurting him like that again. Judging by the stricken looks on Kendall and Shiv’s faces as they discreetly usher Connor towards the back room, you may have already failed to make good on that promise. You find yourself wondering what more Logan could have possibly done. Hasn’t he betrayed them enough, wounded them enough for several lifetimes without heaping on whatever emotionally violent corporate move he’s made now to put that look back on his kids’ faces.

Your instinct is to follow them, every muscle in your body taught, screaming at you to run to Roman. You want to scoop him up and take him away from whatever horrors he’s enduring in that room. But you also know Roman, better than most, and you know that what he likely needs most of all right now is his siblings in that room with him. You have the sense that this is not a moment for you to bust up, that when Roman needs you, you will know. So you do what you think will help him the most, you play the part. You sip on your drink, you politely mill through the floor of people, exchanging pleasantries, all the while keeping one eye on that door that’s transformed into a looming monster in your mind. It’s become a pandora’s box really, as long as it stays shut, you can tell yourself that everything is fine and you’ve read too much into what will turn out to be a very insignificant moment in time. Comforted slightly by this new narrative, you make your way back to the drink table, depositing your empty glass and contemplating your next course of action when you’re interrupted by a hand on the small of your back. Breathing a shallow sigh of relief, you turn, prepared to laugh with your boyfriend about how skilled your mind is at playing tricks on you, but instead you are met with his brother.

“Ken?” you try experimentally, the blood in your veins having run cold. There is a sheen of sweat on his brow, snot pooled under his nose as he looks at you carefully with a tight lipped expression. Wordlessly, he begins leading you by the arm towards the private room, and you are crushed with the understanding that, in no uncertain terms, this is really bad. Once out of earshot of most of the partygoers, you try again, “Is he okay?” No response, but you feel the hand on your forearm tremble a bit. “What happened?” Kendall stops with one hand on the door, looking quickly to ensure no one else had made their way up the stairs before clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah, so,” he casts his eyes skyward before continuing, “Dad is dead.” It’s like the floor has dropped out from under you. You were prepared for any combination of business jargon word salad as he explained the new way Logan had fucked them, but not this. “My God, Kendall,” your hands fly to his shoulders in a vain attempt at comfort, “I-I’m so sorry.” Your mind is swirling with questions and exclamations and pure shock, but it is all you can think to say. He nods, patting the back of your hand with his and sniffles in acknowledgement. “I just think that he needs you, or will need you,” he nods in the direction of the room and you ferociously bite back the tremble in your voice, “Of course, I’m here.” You hope you sound steadier than you feel.

Kendall’s hand turns on the door handle, and your mind is overwhelmed with one repeated thought, like a sick mantra, “He can’t handle this.” Entering the room, your eyes lock on Roman immediately, slumped, sitting cross legged on the floor. A thick veil of grief and disbelief cloaks the room, suffocating, making you almost choke on your words as you offer condolences to Connor with a quick squeeze of the shoulder, and to Shiv with an embrace. You feel slightly out of place, enveloped in this moment that does not belong to you so you quickly make your way to Roman’s side, a place where you are always meant to be. He doesn’t look at you, you can’t see if he’s been crying or any way his features may be contorted, but you instantly feel his fingers tug on the hem of your dress, rubbing the fabric back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Your throat is dry and your mind runs a mile a minute, not just with the question of what to say to the man you love when his father dies, but with the question of what to say when that father is Logan Roy. You settle on, “Hi, you,” and there he is. His eyes travel up to yours, cold and guarded, but wide, and so so scared. “Can I sit?” you ask, and he nods stiffly before you slide down to join him, grasping his clammy, shaky hand in your own.

Roman’s eyes are dry as he surveys the room, finding his siblings wrapped up in their own conversation and his voice trembles, “I-I can’t,” he stammers, unable to find the words. “I know,” you assure him. “I don’t think I told him I loved him,” he gulps, chest rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his hair. “Rome.” you bring your palm to his face, waiting for his eyes to settle on yours before continuing, “You loved him.” There may be a lot about Roman’s relationship with his father that didn’t make sense to you, but this you are sure of with absolute certainty. “What do you need?” you ask, rubbing a slow circle on his cheek with your thumb. He recoils then, clambering to his feet as his focus darts around the room. “I don’t need anything. This isn’t anything, this is - fuck! Nothing’s happened and we don’t know anything so this is all…” he trails off, waving his hands wildly and capturing the attention of his siblings who turned their focus on him.

“Roman,” Kendall approaches him as you would a spooked animal, “We know,” he starts, seemingly expecting the response he gets. “Fuck you! Come on, this is insane!” Roman raises his voice, “This doesn’t happen!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking for someone to back him up. Instead, Shiv approaches him too. “I think it happened though, Rome,” her voice is gentle, and holds a lost quality you are not accustomed to hearing from her. “Shiobhan,” his attempt to mock her falls flat and he spins wildly towards Connor. “And don’t look at me with your fucking sad eyes, fuck!” he exclaims before marching to the far window and pressing his forehead to the glass. “My eyes are sad,” Connor offers, matter of factly from across the room. You take in the three of them standing there in that moment, looking unmoored and far younger than when they first entered this room. These are the Roy children without Logan to orbit, and they are looking to you expectantly to keep the fourth one from spinning out.

“He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this,” the mantra continues, louder and louder in your head with each step you take towards Roman, silenced only when you place a firm hand on his back. He’s sucking in his upper lip and avoiding your gaze, telltale Roman signs that he is fighting back tears. “You know,” you begin, soft enough that no one else in the room will hear, “you are allowed to cry if you want to.” He blinks but doesn’t immediately shut the conversation down, emboldening you to keep going. “This is actually like The time to cry if you really think about it. Someone would have to be a special kind of fucked up to say shit to you right now.” There it is, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips and he whispers, “Hot.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Words, Words, Words | Humming

So I’ve been reading your fics on and off for two+ years now, and you are my favorite Merlin and TSS fic writer (you’ve kinda ruined all other fics in thoes fandoms for me- by just how much you surpassed the others). One sanders side fic I’ve read probably more than 30 times has been words words words. Is there any hope ever of a third chapter? Like maybe Roman is just purely frustrated with his slow but steady healing. Maybe he does a form of speech therapy, stuttering or unable to speak louder than a whisper at times. I would just love frustrated Roman going “this should be good right now, everything is getting better, why not this?” And the others just trying to gently tell him to be patient and instantly quieting down to hear him when he is trying to say/whisper something. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you choose

Word Count: 4919

Thomas wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears something. He frowns, still half asleep, trying to figure out what it is. It takes him a few more moments to realize that it's humming. Something in his head is humming.

Roman wakes up slowly, the light from the Imagination drifting through the door in his room. He sits up, yawning, and pushes his blankets to the foot of his bed. His tongue sits heavily in his mouth as he makes it to the bathroom, flicking on the light, wincing slightly at the state of his hair, and setting about washing his face and getting out of his pajamas. It's not exactly his most pristine of mornings, but he manages to get everything at least presentable by the time Remus knocks on his door.

"Roro!" He's greeted with an enthusiastic hug that almost knocks him off his feet. "You ready to go?"

He nods, but pats his stomach.

"Oh, don't worry, I had extra stuff put in the boat yesterday." At Roman's confused look, he smacks himself in the forehead. "Right, I forgot to tell you. Ollie needs to go for a stretch so we're following him out into the ocean. Plus, there's a beastie out there that's been acting up a bit so I gotta go sort that out. Is that cool?"

Roman pats his stomach again.

"Food, right. You remember those breakfast sandwiches Pat-Pat and Lolo made a while back? The ones with the scrambled egg, cheese, and bacon?"

He would groan, but all that comes out is a slight huff of air. Remus grins anyway.

"I managed to talk my way into getting Lolo to make us a couple in exchange for promising a blusterbelly scale or two for him to poke at."

Roman grins and claps Remus on the shoulder as they start out into the hallway. Remus preens and looks far too proud of himself for this early in the morning, so Roman ruffles his hair until he squawks.

"Hey! You've been hanging out with Ollie too much while I'm not around, you know he's started to do the same thing to me?" Roman tries to put on his perfectly innocent face and Remus just scoffs. "Yeah, yeah, I know it's you, no one else does that shit."

He pulls out his phone and types: Probably because they know you'd never let them get away with it. He holds it out for Remus to read.

"I don't let you get away with it either!"

Of course, when he tries to swipe at Roman, he catches his arm and pulls him into a light headlock, scruffing his hair even more and pressing a loud smacking kiss to his forehead. Remus yelps and squirms.

"Why are you so well-coordinated this early? That's not fair! Hey! Hey!" Roman prods his ribs once more and lets him go, smiling as he gives himself a disgruntled shake. "No extra bacon for you, I'm keeping all of it."

Roman just smiles. He knows perfectly that Remus will not, in fact, hoard the rest of the bacon, and so does Remus. Evidenced by the secretly pleased smile he tries and fails to hide when he goes to open the door.

They walk out onto a wharf blanketed with thick grey mist, the top of their boat just protruding out of the bank gathered at the end of the pier. Remus sets the buoys atop the side and reaches over to uncleat the docking ropes as Roman climbs in and readies the engine.

"Ready?" Roman knocks twice on the side and Remus undoes the ropes as he turns over the engine, backing them carefully away from the dock and out into the open water. "Here, I'll drive, you eat."

See?

He makes himself comfortable with a sandwich near the bow, looking out over the rolling mist and dark waves. There's something oddly comforting about being alone with Remus on the dark water, even though it does look like they're about to head into a horrifying sea monster's den. Though, he supposes, they are, as the shadow of something massive starts to move under the water.

"Ollie," Remus scolds when the shadow gets close enough, "you know better, come and say hello like a proper little Kraken."

Oliver's head bursts up from the water in a sparkling shower of droplets—how they sparkle when there's no sun to be seen Roman isn't going to think about—and burbles happily, reaching one of his smaller arms out to say hello. Remus pats it and reaches down to pull some chum out of another cooler.

"Don't get too close to us while the engine's on," he reminds, "now go say hi to Roman."

Roman reaches out with a smile as the Kraken swims a little closer—mindful of the engine—and pats the offered arm. Oliver burbles and squeaks and Roman squeezes the squeaky toy attached to his life jacket in response. Oliver trills and starts to keep apace with the boat, venturing a little further away sometimes just to fully stretch his arms out before returning. After about half an hour of going who-knows-where, Remus kills the engine and drops a set of buoys and an anchor, coming up to sit beside him as Oliver starts to do his laps.

"You save any of the bacon for me?"

Roman holds out half the bacon Remus packed and his face lights up.

"Aw, you do love me, Ro-Bro!"

Roman grins and ruffles his hair again as Remus happily chows down on the food. He sees a fine spray of water from where Oliver breaches like a whale and leans against his brother's shoulder. After a moment, he pulls out his phone.

Did you tell him about the movie yet?

Remus shakes his head as he reads. "Nah. I don't wanna give him any ideas about fighting ships yet. He's still healing from when that tree crashed into his pond and tore his right flank. I wanna make sure he's all back to his normal self before I sign up for any ship battles."

Can I come help?

"Oh, Roro, if I gotta deal with Ollie on a victory high, so do you. He prances less when it's you he's beating."

Roman smiles.

    2.

Roman gets downstairs and sees Virgil waiting for him, scrolling idly on his phone with one of their laptops plugged into the TV. Virgil looks up when he sees him and smiles.

"Hey, there, Princey, you wanna come join me?" He shifts over so Roman can sit next to him, knocking their elbows together. "You ready for this?"

Roman nods, turning his attention to the screen where one of their favorite video games is cued up. Virgil passes him one of the controllers and hits the Start button.

"So, I was thinking we could run some of the easier levels first and then see if we're up to the big ones?"

He nods again and smiles when he sees the familiar robots appear in their testing elevators. On the other side of the screen, Virgil's character waves enthusiastically and Roman's robot waves back. They're dropped into the central hub and make their way over to the first course.

"Okay…we're not starting on the last level, no fucking way," Virgil mutters as he fiddles with the controls, "alright, so…let's see, level one, easy difficulty, no death penalties because we're playing this for fun and not to torture ourselves…"

Roman smiles to himself as Virgil mutters, leaning slightly more against him just to enjoy how soft his hoodie is. Virgil tips his head over to bonk affectionately against Roman's before he hits the right sequence of buttons to get them dropped into the first chamber.

"Okay, so, do you wanna stand on the button or do you wanna do all the shooty-shooty, get us to where we're going stuff?" Roman goes over and stands on the button to open the first door. "Great, works for me!"

It's easy enough to settle back into the rhythm of playing the game, especially where there are controls to have the characters point out certain things on the screen or do countdowns together without Roman needing to do them in real life. Of course, there is the mandatory grace period where they both fuck each other over half a dozen times by moving the portals, or telling each other the wrong time to go, or smashing each other with some of the testing obstacles.

"Alright," Virgil mutters as Roman smashes him to bits for the third time in a row, "have you gotten it out of your system yet?"

Roman smiles and nods, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender before graciously allowing Virgil to do the safe thing of stand on the buttons and he'll go do the dangerous thing instead. It's only fair.

That's what Virgil says too when he smashes Roman's character without hesitation. Roman just shakes his head with a grin and they keep playing.

They manage to make it through most of the first course and the second before they reach a level that neither of them remembers. Roman frowns, looking around, trying to figure out where they're supposed to put the portals to make sure that they don't fly off and die in a pool of acid, but Virgil keeps stubbornly trying the same thing over and over again.

"I'm pretty sure—wasn't there a thing about you putting your portals, like, under me when I'm at the very top?" Roman shoots a portal where Virgil's pointing and it bounces off a forcefield. "Oh, right."

Roman looks around a bit more and spots a portal surface way on the other side of the puzzle. He shoots one over there and Virgil turns to look.

"What's that for?"

Roman shrugs. He sets down the controller and picks up his phone. It's the only place we haven't tried yet.

While Virgil was looking at his phone, however, his character's walked off the edge of a platform and died. "Oh, shit."

He manages to get back over to where Roman's character is and they start experimenting with the new surface they've found.

"Wait, what if you put one there?"

"Is there something around the other corner? Let me just—oh, shit, I thought there was floor there."

"Uh, I think maybe it has something to do with—no, that's just death, okay."

Roman just keeps putting a portal there. It's weird, he doesn't remember this level, but he remembers a portal being here specifically. He frowns, trying to find something, anything else to jog his memory, when his eyes widen and he reaches for his phone again. Virgil puts down the controller and leans over his shoulder to read.

"One of us goes up off the launch pad and puts a portal on the end," he reads, "then the other one connects the bridge to the—oh, you're so smart, Princey."

Roman's cheeks flush a little as Virgil sets about doing the thing. He walks over to the right place where he can see both of the walls and Virgil's character stands on the launch pad.

"On three, ready? One, two, three!"

Virgil's character is launched into the air. Roman quickly shoots one portal, then the other, and Virgil comes to rest safely on a bridge stretching across the top of the level.

"Yes!" Virgil drops the controller and pulls Roman into a one-armed hug. "Fuck me, that took so long, why the fuck don't we remember this? Maybe we blocked it out 'cause it was so frustrating, holy shit, thank god you noticed that little fucking wall in the nowhere corner."

Roman grins and shifts a little on the couch. He looks around the rest of the level, looking at the door, the buttons, and the new bridge they have. Up at the top of the level. Where only Virgil is right now. Which is currently blocking any other way they would have to get there.

He reaches for his phone again. Now what do we do?

Virgil reads it and looks around. "Well. Fuck. That's a great question, Princey."

Should you come back down?

"After what it took to get me up here?"

We know how to do it now, Roman types out, but then there's a noise and he looks up to see Virgil's pressed a button that raises a platform so Roman can just walk up. Virgil coughs sheepishly.

"It's fine, just come up here and let's keep going."

    3.

Logan opens the door as soon as he knocks, smiling and standing aside to let him in. He sits back at his desk and offers another chair to Roman. A big, cushy one that has a fidget toy balanced on the arm. Roman grins and takes it, squishing the slime back and forth for a moment before looking up.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Logan starts, picking up his notebook, "I've been thinking of a few things and I wanted to get your input."

Roman nods.

"Now, I know that you've said in the past that you aren't looking for anything like an AAC device since that isn't what would help you, but is there anything that you have thought of that would be helpful?"

Roman thinks for a few seconds, before he pulls out his phone and starts typing. Logan takes his out and waits patiently for the text. Mostly it's fine. I can text you guys if I really need something.

"Alright, so texting is clearly helpful. Have you thought about a text-to-speech app at all?"

Roman makes a face and types something else. I don't know.

"You don't know as in you haven't thought about it, or…?"

I don't like the idea of it. I know it works for some people but I don't want to have to repeat myself if someone doesn't hear it and then I have to do it all over again. He almost types something else but he makes himself delete it.

"Was there something else you wanted to say?" Logan prompts gently because of course he noticed that.

Roman sighs. I don't want anyone to make fun of it.

Logan's shoulders slump slightly as he reads that, adjusting his glasses and reaching out to pat Roman's shoulder. "I'm sorry we've made you feel as though that's all you can expect from us."

Roman covers his hands and types something else, having to go back a few times to correct his typos. For the most part it's fine. I'm just not looking forward to if there's another meeting. I don't think you guys would be looking at your phones or waiting all the time to see if I have something to say. You'll just start arguing and never let me talk.

Logan doesn't deny it, but he does pull a face of his own. "Would it be helpful if you had something that made a noise that signaled that you wanted us to read something?"

You'd make fun of that too. He sends it before he can think better of it and winces.

"No, no, you're—that's a fair point."

They sit in silence for a moment before Logan sighs and adjusts his glasses.

"I'm sorry, Roman, I'm sure this must be as frustrating for you as it can be for us." Roman shrugs. "Is there—are there any things we've been doing since that meeting that have been particularly good or particularly bad?"

Roman thinks for a moment. The yes or no questions have been good. You've all actually bothered to read my stuff when I write it out for you.

"Alright, that's good to know."

He hesitates before typing out: You've all actually been nice to me.

Logan lets out a soft noise when he gets that text, looking up at Roman with an odd mix of sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry that we've been—that we've not been nice to you before this."

It's never lasted anywhere near this long before, Roman types out, a furrow forming between his brows, I don't know what the fuck is going on. I want my voice back.

Logan doesn't say anything when he reads that, just looks at it solemnly. Roman puts his phone down and picks up the slime again, stretching and kneading it until air bubbles pop inside. He does it again and again, trying to get some of his frustration out in a way that doesn't involve throwing his phone or something else that won't actually help. When he feels like he's no longer about to explode, his picks his phone up again.

Is there a way I can get a small AAC machine that just has a few words on it?

"Yes, of course. There can be as many or as few as you want."

I think I want one that has an everyone shut up button.

Logan laughs as he reads that. "You'll have to keep a very close eye on it. Not that I think anyone would purposefully steal your AAC machine, but the idea of a shut-up button does seem as though it would appeal to…certain Sides."

You can say Virgil and Remus they're not here.

"Not Janus?"

Janus has one, he can just make all of us shut up.

"That is true." Logan adjusts his glasses. "I think we can see about getting you one of those, do you have any other words you'd like to include?"

Maybe hungry and tired? I can say yes and no or make faces for a lot of stuff but those two are harder for me when I am those things.

"Alright, that works quite well, I'll make a note of that. Any others?"

Roman grins. Will you let me talk you into having a fuck off button?

"Roman, this is your voice, it's not up to me to tell you what you can and can't say with it."

So you'll make me a fuck off button, that's what I'm hearing.

Logan sighs, but he's trying too hard to fight down a smile to be actually exasperated properly. "Yes, Roman, I'll make you a fuck off button."

You're the best, Logan, don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

    4.

"Roman? You hungry?"

Patton sticks his head around the corner of the kitchen to see Roman nod. He grins and waves him over.

"Come help me, if you want? I'm gonna make some sandwiches for everyone."

Roman perks up and follows Patton into the kitchen, tucking his phone into an easily accessible pocket next to his AAC machine. He rolls up his sleeves and washes his hands as Patton bustles about behind him.

"So," he hears and he turns around to see Patton smiling at him, hands on his hips, "I've heard tell of an amazing sandwich that you make for yourself and I'd love to see how you make it!"

Roman nods and glances around. There's a loaf of the garbage bread from their local grocery store sitting on top of the microwave and he reaches for it, taking about a quarter of it from one end and cutting it in half.

"Whoa, that's a lot of bread!" Roman just gives him a look over his shoulder and he muffles himself. "Right, right, trust the process!"

He goes to the fridge and pulls out cheddar cheese, fresh lettuce, and fresh cucumber. After a pause, he takes out a package of microwaveable bacon and takes out eight pieces. Patton mumbles to himself over his shoulder as he cooks the bacon and cuts the cucumber, carefully assembling one layer after another until almost everything is on the bread. Then, he reaches over the fridge to take down a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

"Ooh, you're putting the chips on the sandwich?"

Roman mimes crunching down with his hand and mouth and Patton claps his hands excitedly.

"Oh, for the crunch! That's such a good idea!"

The finished sandwich is a layer of sliced cucumber, four strips of bacon torn in half, a slice of cheddar cheese, a few pieces of lettuce, and the chips on top. He crowns it with the second half of the bread and holds it up proudly. Patton applauds the sandwich and they both laugh.

"Can I try making one too and you can tell me if I'm doing it right?"

Roman nods and sets his sandwich to the side as Patton reaches for the loaf of bread.

"How much of this should I use?" Roman takes his wrist gently and moves it to the right place. "This much? Okay, I'll use this much…"

He guides Patton carefully through the steps, making sure that the ratio of ingredients is consistent even when Patton insists he doesn't need as much bacon.

"It's fine," he says when Roman stares at him like he's an affront to the sandwich gods, "I'll just use less of everything else, that's how it works, right?"

Roman pulls out his phone. It's about the ratio to bread too, Padre, unless you're in it for the bread more than the sandwich.

"I like bread, though." Roman makes a face. "Here, I'm gonna get out how much bacon I want and then you can tell me if it's too much bread, okay?"

Roman nods and watches as Patton pulls out only four pieces of bacon. He shakes his head and goes to trim some of the bread from the end, only for Patton to snatch it up and stuff it into his mouth, chewing happily. He freezes like a startled stoat when Roman stares at him, before swallowing the mouthful and shrugging.

"What? I like bread."

Roman can't help it; he laughs. It's mostly silent huffs and shaking of his shoulders and the occasional audible rush of air, but then his throat makes a noise.

It's quiet, barely more than a quick grunt, but it was there. Both of them freeze, equal looks of shock and surprise on their features before Patton slowly reaches over to touch his shoulder.

"Oh, kiddo," he whispers, "I missed hearing you laugh."

Roman swallows, clearing his throat, and he tries to do it again. Nothing but air comes out. His fists clench in frustration and Patton quickly reaches out to gentle them away.

"You'll make it worse," he says softly, "it's okay, it's okay, shh, kiddo, I know, I know."

Roman makes an exaggerated pout and he giggles.

"Hey, that was something, right? That's better than nothing, isn't it?"

Yeah, it is, Roman types, I just wish I had all of my voice back. I miss it.

"We miss it too, kiddo," Patton says softly, patting his shoulder again, "but hey, that was way more than we expected, so that's good, right?"

I guess.

Patton pulls him in for a quick hug, one hand stroking gently up and down his back. Roman relaxes into the touch, letting the smell of the chips and fresh bread soothe the sparks of irritation still threatening to flare up again. He tucks his cheek against the side of Patton's neck and closes his eyes, resting there for a long moment.

"We love you, sweetheart," Patton whispers, "voice or no voice, you're still our Roman. We love you, we love you so much."

Roman signs "I love you too" into Patton's back and feels him grin.

"Come on, now. I want to try these sandwiches and I still need you to tell me if I'm doing it right."

Roman gives himself a shake and goes back to helping Patton assemble the sandwich. They both carry their plates over to the table and sit, eyeing them greedily until Patton breaks first and takes a big bite.

"Oh goodness," he mumbles around it, "I see why you have these all the time, this is so incredible!"

Roman just grins.

    5.

The sun has long since turned its face to the horizon. A golden glow spills across Roman's desk as he writes, illuminating the edges of his notebook and bringing the slightest warmth to the part of his hands that face the window. The curtains flutter slightly in the sweet-smelling breeze as the rustle of leaves and grass comes from outside.

There's a quiet knock on his door and he stands, opening it to reveal Janus.

"Hello, sweetie," he says, "I was wondering if you'd come on a walk with me."

Roman nods, going back to his notebook and marking his place as Janus comes up behind him. He spots him smiling out of the window and gestures to the Imagination door, which opens invitingly.

"Did you make this place specially for writing?"

He shakes his head, gesturing vaguely to the Imagination again. Janus offers his arm and he takes it, beginning to walk through the door and out into the Imagination proper. A path stretches in front of them in the golden sunlight, tall grass swishing on either side of it as trees sway gently in the breeze. The smell of slightly overripe apples fills the air as their footsteps crunch along the path. A hill slopes lightly in front of them, the light glimmering off its ridge. They reach the top leisurely and look out into a field of wildflowers as the path curves up and through the valley, almost flowing as a river would. A slight melancholy fills Roman's chest at the sight and he leans a little further into Janus's touch, tucking his head against his shoulder.

"Would you like to keep walking?"

Roman shakes his head, looking around and pulling Janus to come sit under one of the sprawling trees at the top of the hill. He rests his back against the trunk, still looking out at the flowers. The wind toys with their stems as they look on, creating an ever-shifting landscape that reminds him just as much of the rolling waves. Janus hums slightly under his breath as they sit together, just breathing in the sweet air.

After a while, he feels Janus's fingers brush his hand. He looks over. "May I borrow this, sweetie?"

He nods and Janus takes his hand carefully between two of his, running his fingers over the skin of his knuckles and palm. It tickles slightly and he shifts, hiding a smile against Janus's shoulder. Janus chuckles and does it again. Roman shifts and lightly pushes his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I'll stop."

The sun continues moving, the very ends of the clouds starting to turn pink and red. Janus continues to play with his hand, rubbing firmly to soothe away any remaining tingles. After another moment, he chuckles again.

"Do you remember the song about the fields of gold? It's just come into my head and I can't remember how it goes."

Roman frowns, trying to remember. He reaches for his phone. Was it Fields of Gold?

"No, no, that would be far too sensible," Janus chuckles, "I…oh, dear. I'm sorry, Roman."

Roman raises an eyebrow. Janus sighs, squeezing his hand.

"I was going to ask if you'd like to sing it with me, but…"

Ah. Right.

They sit in silence for a moment, before Roman nudges him again. You can sing it, I won't mind.

"Are you sure, sweetie?"

Roman nods.

Janus's voice floats gently along the breeze as the sun goes down. Roman closes his eyes and leans against Janus's shoulder, enjoying the melody of it. He almost dozes off when Janus suddenly chokes off.

"Roman?"

He sits up. Janus stares at him like he's witnessing a miracle. He tilts his head in question.

"You were humming," Janus whispers, "you were humming with me."

Roman's eyes widen. He lifts his hand to touch his throat, hoping, wishing to feel some vibration of his throat, his voice, but it's painfully still. Janus reaches out and clasps his hands.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay, let's try again, okay? Just—just come lean against me again, try and relax. Let's just—let's just see what happens, okay?"

He lays his head back down, and Janus takes a somewhat shaky breath.

"You'll remember me when the west wind moves Among the fields of barley You can tell the sun in his jealous sky When we walked in fields of gold."

Roman's fingers stay pressed against his throat as he closes his eyes, trying to lose himself in the music again. After a while, he feels something and Janus's voice dips for just a moment before it grows warmer.

They finish the song together as the sunset blooms across the horizon. Roman's cheeks are damp.

    +1.

Thomas wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears something. He frowns, still half asleep, trying to figure out what it is. It takes him a few more moments to realize that it's humming. Something in his head is humming.

He falls back asleep with a smile on his face and a soft warmth in his chest that feels like late-afternoon sunshine.

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On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 1: A Book Before Bed

Graphical representation of the Lorenz Attractor.

A Book Before Bed - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

"As the system changes, the motion of the point represents the continuously changing variables. It traced a strange, distinctive shape of a butterfly's wings." - Chaos: The Making of a New Science by James Gleick

Changes in an environment can make a outsized impact on a life: Arriving three minutes late to a student club fair. Never walking home alone after that party at Jack's house. Trying a new goal planner that year.

Deciding to stay just a little longer to try to make the marriage work.

Universes collide in this story, as Logan Croft finds himself stumbling down paths he might have followed throughout his life but for a few small changes.

And what he discovers will change everything.

- Across the universes, Logan starts a book he's been looking forward to reading for a long, long time.

💚💙 Happily Ever After Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“Whatcha readin’, hot stuff?”

Eyebrows raised in a wordless question, Remus waited for Logan’s little nod before he slid between his husband’s back and the padded headboard. Wiggling into place, he wrapped both  arms around his belly, hugging him close and helping support the thick book he was reading. Logan leaned in to the soft kisses along his neck and hummed, the finger tucked between the book’s pages the only reminder he had, in fact, been reading.

Remus smirked. “Am I distracting you from your book?”

Logan blushed and settled against his chest, nodding when Remus carded long, strong fingers through his hair. “Perhaps,” he admitted, laughing low in his chest. “But I would never mind, Meus.”

After a few moments, Remus nuzzled against his temple and asked, “So what are ya’ reading?”

He held up the book so Remus could read the cover.

“Mmmm,” he hummed. “Chaos: Making a New Science?” He shimmied his shoulders, eyebrows dancing over sleepy eyes. “Sounds like my kinda book.”

~

💚💙💛 Overruled Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“Indeed, Muse,” Janus murmured, joining them under the covers. A satin scarf wrapped around his still-damp hair, he smelled of bergamot and cedar wood, plus a hint of spearmint. Smiling, Logan made mental note to check the order for his cinnamon toothpaste after they dropped off Patton at school.

“I believe we can convince our dear Lo to read us a bit of it,” he added, leaning in to kiss first Remus, then Logan. “If we’re very, very good.”

Logan chuckled. “You’re always very, very good.”

“Except when we’re not,” Remus laughed, nipping at his shoulder.

Shaking his head with his own laugh, Logan settled in between his loves and read aloud from where he’d left off. “‘Where chaos begins, classical science stops…’”

~

❤️💙 The Uses of Adversity Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“‘The irregular side of nature, the discontinuous and the erratic side will emerge, always staying within certain bounds but never—‘”

Logan paused as Roman’s breathing slowed, head heavy on his chest. “My Prince,” he whispered, smiling at the tickle of soft hair against his lips. “Have you fallen asleep?”

“Mm-hm… no, Lo, I’m wide awake,” he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Logan’s bare chest. “Keep reading to me… please?”

Logan pressed a kiss into his auburn curls and smiled. “As you wish. ‘At any instant in time, the three variables fix the location of a point in three-dimensional space…’”

~

💔 In Sickness and In - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

As the system changes, the motion of the point represents the continuously changing variables. It traced a strange, distinctive shape—

Logan inhaled sharply when the text on the page disappeared as the bedroom light clicked off, blanketing him in darkness.

“That’s not another one of those damn ‘Fifteen Ways Your Marriage Will Fail’ books, is it?”

Logan cleared his throat and tucked the bookmark firmly into place before sliding the book and his eyeglasses into his nightstand drawer. “No. No, Kels, of course not. It’s, um…” He closed the drawer quietly, then fumbled for his water glass in the dark, and drained it as Kelly took off her slippers and climbed in to her side of the bed. “It’s a physics book, actually. On chaos theory…” Logan rushed to fill the stony silence between them. “It—it’s fascinating, really. The current chapter demonstrates mathematically how small changes in the initial variables can set off—”

She grunted and arranged her body pillow between them, then rolled to face the other side of the room. “Sounds like something you’d read.”

Back still turned to him, she inserted her ear plugs and dropped her sleep mask over her eyes before eventually stilling. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t jostle her, Logan slid down under the blanket and pulled it up to his chin. In the dim light, he could make out a glint of blonde curls peeking past her pillow.

“Goodnight, Kels,” he whispered into the silence. He listened to her breathe, counting as each grew slower, steadier. Softer. Finally, when he was certain she was no longer awake, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.