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

[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....."

[hl-obsessed]

link to original manip

✨ fics i've read in November ✨

.🌸🌸🌸.

Roman Empire by Speechless

(E, 11k) One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

*

“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”

He hears Harry laugh for a moment.

“I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.”

Louis bites back a little smile.

“Have you asked enough people?"

“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren

(E, 5k) I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

✨ Until the Pearls Get Lost by @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k) London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help.

Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

Bloom Just For You by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 7,6k) Marcel decides to get straight to the point. "So I was wondering if you’d be interested in bottoming,” he says.

He glances anxiously over at his boyfriend in time to see Louis’ eyes widen over his mug of tea. There’s a choking sound, and all of a sudden Louis is coughing violently, trying to draw in a breath as his tea goes down the wrong way.

“Oh my– oh my god, Louis!” Marcel yells, panicked.

~

Marcel has never been happier; he has a job he loves, a boyfriend he adores, and a sex life with said boyfriend that exceeds his wildest of fantasies. But there’s one thing he and Louis haven’t yet tried in the bedroom. And he can’t get the thought out of his head...

No Surprises by @louislittletomlintum

(E, 21k) “I smoke socially, sometimes. Depends who I’m with,” Harry shrugged, taking another puff. Louis watched his soft little lips wrap around it and purse just slightly on the inhale. It wasn’t the first time he considered if Harry was perfectly made just to torment him.

“Hm. I won’t send you to jail for now, then. On crimes of fibbing,” Louis decided benevolently. He was about to open his mouth to spout off some other shite before he saw Harry had a bit of a pensive look in his features despite how his eyes were a little glassy.

“Lou,” he began, and god Louis loved that he’d earned that little nickname off of him. “Can I ask you summat?” Harry added, tapping the ash of the cigarette in the tray before taking another puff.

“You just did,” Louis smiled because Harry walked right into that one. “But I’ll give you another,”

“How did you know you were queer?”

or; an office au where louis is a loveable brat and harry is working himself out

You're Not Harry Styles (or are you?) by @bluegreen28fics

(E, 20k) Singer Louis Tomlinson finally meets his crush - ex-boybander Harry Styles - on a late night talk show after he recently released a hit single mentioning Harry. They hit it off and fall in love.

Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl

(E, 40k) They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

***

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

✨💎 To Fight For Freedom by @snowy38

(E, 112k) It was snowing when he went down.

His sturdy and well-worn hiking boots were tied snugly to his socked feet; the knee-high thick black fabric keeping his legs warm to almost the point his pleated kilt rested just above his knees. Almost, because there was still a good four inches of skin bared to the elements.

His father had told him he had no need to wear the traditional uniform, but Harry knew better than to believe him. In fact, the only reason his father would say such a thing was because he would rather see him in anything other than an item of clothing which resembled a skirt. The reasons for his reservations may well be justified but Harry couldn’t think about that right now.

It was snowing and he’d been shot.

✨ Into the Woods (series) by mystic_believexx

(M, 44k) The one where the future Alpha of the Tomlinson pack imprints on the human, Harry Styles.

(warning❗this story is unfinished, last update in 2017. it's so easily to fall in love with it and have your heart broken 💔)

✨ amaryllis by @hattalove

(E, 146k) "Where are we?"

"Um. A little while out of London?" Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh.

"London London? As in, the capital of England London?" he asks, just in case he'd misheard.

"No, the other London," Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. "Sorry, Pup."

Nobody's ever called Harry a "pup". Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

***

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

'Sup by @mediawhorefics

(G, 6,7k) Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

***

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

Can't Imagine You Without The Same Smile In Your Eyes by @galacticlarry

(T, 4k) It’s been over a week since Harry’s first semester at university began, and he has had zero new exciting friendships or noteworthy experiences, just a bizarre dream that keeps waking him up in the middle of the night.

What happens when the boy with the pretty blue eyes from his psychology class catches his eye and starts occupying his mind?

Art of seduction by harrysprostate

(E, 13k) “Besides, I have a fiancé.”

“Does your fiancé know where you are right now?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He knows I’m out with a friend.”

Harry blinked. “A friend?”

“What, engaged people can’t have friends?”

Harry chuckled at that and shook his head very slowly. He took his time to answer, even shifted in his seat and made sure that they were making eye contact first. “Oh Louis, we’re not going to be friends.”

Louis just smirked.

~or the one where louis is engaged but that doesn't stop harry from seducing him~

✨ my kingdom for a kiss (tonight you're on my mind) by leighbot

(E, 30k) “Oh fuck, I’m going to have to tell my mum,” Louis says, closing his eyes.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment until Harry starts breathing heavily. “I’m going to have to tell the Queen,” he says, “and my mum.”

 Or, the one where Zayn and Louis make a friendly wager and it goes too far, Harry's a baker with a heart of gold and really great hair, Liam is an overworked PA who just wants to enjoy his holiday and Niall is completely at ease, as always. An accidentally married AU mixed with a splash of modern royalty.

Still Dreaming ‘Bout You by @ireallysawanangel

(T, 3k) Harry doesn’t pay much attention to football. That’s proven even more apparent when the biggest football star in the UK walks into his juice bar and he doesn’t even notice. He does start to take notice when that football star keeps coming back.

✨ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

✨ This World's Ashes by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 34k) The man stares at him, and all Harry can hear is his own heartbeat, racing.

Then the stranger turns away. He walks a few paces and bends down, picking up a large knife from the ground and shoving it into a pouch attached to his belt.

“I won’t hurt you, you know.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to the man’s face. He’s looking at Harry sincerely, palms held up as though in surrender. There’s still a knife in his right hand, though, so Harry is only slightly reassured.

Harry swallows to combat the dryness of his throat, and then says, “I won’t hurt you either.”

***

A post-apocalypse AU where Harry, battling his past as he survives in the woods, has learnt not to trust anyone except his dog. Then Louis crashes into his life, with his bright spirit and soft lips, pulling Harry from the depths of a loneliness he hadn’t realised he was drowning in. But there is danger lurking, and Harry’s not the only one wrestling with his past.

✨ no faith left to lose by @louieshalo

(M, 7k) Louis shoves an album booklet — Harry’s album booklet — into Harry’s hands, folded open to a familiar page. “I need you to tell me that that goddamn song is not about me.” His voice cracks a little in his vehemence, and ice fills Harry’s veins as he glances down at the creased page.

He doesn’t need to look closely to know what it is Louis is talking about — the title is printed plainly on the page, Second Chances, along with every incriminating lyric, line by line. It’s his most blatant offense off the entire album, probably; sickeningly indulgent and too obviously vulnerable to even defend himself against. The song is a surface-level dip into the fantasy world Harry toys with when the ache of loneliness gets to be too much in the middle of the night, the brief glimpse already toeing over the boundary he’d promised himself he’d set for his career.

Most damning, though, is the tiny embossed dedication at the bottom of the page;

“For who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid,” Louis recites, looking expectantly at Harry. “What the fuck does that mean?

***

or, the one where they miss each other more than anything.

.🌸🌸🌸.

part 1 (+50k) ✨💐 part 2 (30-50k) ✨🥀 part 3 (10-30k)

part 4 (< 10k) ✨🪷 part 5 (monthly rec) ✨💐

[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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[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

[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.

[everythingisawayoflife]

Neil's Death & The Symbolism Within - An Essay

OKAY LIKE A FEW PEOPLE SAID I SHOULD SO LET ME TALK ABOUT THIS, its gonna sound like nonsense. this is a repost so it gets more visibility! Trigger Warning for discussions of Suicide, Self-Harm, Mental Health. Please read at caution cause I discuss a lot of sensitive stuff here.

So my scene analysis paper was exactly as it sounds, we watch a movie of our choice, and analyze it from our textbook, America on Film: 3rd edition. I chose Dead Poets bc it had been a minute since I’ve seen it and I also have seen it enough times to be able to analyze it. So I chose Neil’s suicide. a very chilling scene that when broken down, says a lot, for saying very little. so first lets get into the biblical allegory.

When we first see Neil, he opens his window and slowly puts his Puck crown on his head, like so:

This combines two major elements of the main biblical parallels at play: The Agony in the Garden and one of the major Instruments of the Passion, The Crown of Thorns. For those who have not grown up around Christianity/don't pay attention to it, here are some brief yet thorough definitions of the terms I just threw around:

Agony in the Garden: The night Jesus and his disciples spend in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus spends the entire night praying and wrestling with his inevitable crucifixion. Some scriptures add that he was sweating blood during this but it depends on which translation you read. The Agony really shows Jesus' human side and can best be seen in the musical Jesus Christ Superstar's most pivotal number, Gethsemane, which I've linked here.

The Passion: A collective name for the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion. Essentially all of what Easter is. Passion's archaic definition is suffering.

The Instruments of the Passion: Notable relics and icons from the Passion. These include the Crown of Thorns, the cross itself, Holy Lance, Veil of Veronica, and more.

Anyway, the entire first part of the scene shows Neil, who moves slowly and deliberately. No one else in the entire house is awake and he has become one with nature, by opening his window and feeling the winter breeze. Neil bows his head, presumably IN PRAYER, before we cut to the next part. While Christianity has become decentralized in households across America, it was still very crucial in 1950s America, especially in WASP-y domains. So, it would be correct to assume Neil's family is Christian, especially of how Welton is structured (i.e. the main meeting hall is basically a chapel, they sing hymns, etc.).

Jesus Christ was crowned with thorns as a way of mocking him. He was put on trial because according to the Romans, he claimed to be a God, which because the Romans adhered to their set pantheon, it was considered sacrilege and blasphemy. Jesus only ever responded (again, depending on the translation), "You say that I am." So they wanted to mock his authority and placed that crown on his head. Neil is essentially mocking his own authority because the entire movie he has tried and failed to have authority over his own life. His father continuously shoots him down and refuses to listen until the final break when he tells Neil he is sending him to military school. For Neil, he believes it was foolish to think he could even persuade his father just a tiny bit. He expresses this from the moment we first meet Mr. Perry to the final argument.

Where Jesus wears a crown of thorns, Neil's crown is woven with what appears to be fruits and maybe flowers. Flowers and fruit have had sensitive and romantic connotations throughout all of history and are often represented in classic art and literature. Neil is making this sacrifice in the name of art. If you notice throughout the entire movie, anytime death is mentioned, the camera is focused on Neil. It is brilliant subtle foreshadowing and it eats me alive every time it happens. Neil knows what he is about to do. Robert Sean Leonard played this scene beautifully and I so badly want to discuss all of this with him.

Continuing on, we watch Neil make a silent descent down the stairs and he is entirely shadowed. This gives the audience the implication that we already see a ghost:

Neil needed theater like he needed breathing and when theater was taken away from him, his life force was gone. The whole of Neil already died. We see this resignation with his final line:

"I was good. I was really good."

Neil already views himself as dead. He speaks of himself in the past tense. So Neil walking silently through his house as if he were already a ghost is so haunting. I mentioned earlier that Neil knows what he is doing. In Christianity, suicide is considered a sin. We see this in The Divine Comedy, an Italian narrative written by author Dante Alighieri in the 1300s CE. In the first and most famous section, Inferno, when Dante and Virgil arrive in the Seventh Circle and come across those who have committed suicide where they have been turned into trees. The only exception to this is Judas Iscariot, who is being feasted on by a three-headed Satan. Now again, Judas dies two different ways depending on which biblical translation you read but typically the narrative is this:

Judas turns Jesus into the Sanhedrin for 30 pieces of silver and when he discovers Jesus is to be crucified, Judas hangs himself.

In Biblical times, despite suicide being marked as a sin, in Judas' case, because he wanted redemption from his bad act, it was viewed as an acceptable death. So for Neil, this suicide is a redemption for betraying his father. A small parallel, maybe even a bit of stretch, but it is there for me nonetheless.

Back to Jesus, Neil's descent down the stairs also parallels to the walk along the Via Dolorosa or the Way of Suffering. It is the path Jesus walked to his crucifixion, a long and arduous journey. The walk is about 2,000 ft (600 Meters in Metric) yet this is a man who has been beaten, starved, tortured, who was also tasked with carrying his own large wooden cross, and Neil has his own cross to bear: The emotional weight of what he is about to do. It was a slow and painful walk for Jesus and its a slow and painful walk for Neil. Skipping ahead, Neil finally arrives to his destination. The choice to do it in his father's office was absolutely on purpose. Neil comes back to the spot he emotionally died, the moment he lost everything. We get just a brief bit of hesitation for Neil. He fiddles with the key to his father's desk. He holds it gingerly and turns it over in his fingers a few times before reaching down to unlock the drawer with the gun. This goes back to the Agony in the Garden, which again, is best expressed in Jesus Christ Superstar's Gethsemane:

Why I should die?

Eventually, Jesus resigns himself to die:

Alright, I'll die! Just watch me die! See how I die!

Neil does not go silently. I don't know if I'm hallucinating or have really keen hearing, but I swear you can hear the tail end of the gunshot simultaneously as the dirge-like music cuts and Mr. Perry gasps awake. I might just be making that up but I don't know tbh. But anyway, while Jesus resigns himself, the following lyrics express frustration with God and the life that was already planned for him when he has a selfish sense to live. This song and musical really delve into the debate of how much human and God was Jesus Christ and it really opens the door for his human side. He expresses selfishness and a want to abandon his mission. He is hesitant to die. He is hesitant to die painfully. Like I said earlier, Neil hesitates ever so slightly.

Then I was inspired

Now, I'm sad and tired

After all I've tried for three years

Cause not only is God, well, y'know, GOD, he is also Jesus' father. A father who had planned out a whole life for his son and while his son goes along with it, he has a desire to live outside of that. Sound familiar? And I really am trying not to be sacrilegious or anything! I grew up in a Christian household but outside of that, theology has always interested me and I've learned to view it from an academic standpoint. As for my beliefs now, I'm still unsure, and I don't think I ever will be sure and I think that's okay. We're getting off topic, so let me get back on track.

The final time we see Neil alive is him sitting at his Dad's desk, gun wrapped in cloth with Neil gripping it:

He looks sure, with maybe just a flicker of sadness. The entire scene Neil has looked serene. And not like the calm kind of serene, the morose kind. Solemn, I think is a better word for it. Neil's soul has died. Neil is about to crucify himself and become a Dead Poet. He has fulfilled the purpose of the poets they read about in the Society. He lived life as full as he could only for it to be cut down so short. That's the tragedy of it: Neil had so much life to live and so much more to contribute to the arts. But Neil's father killed that passion, killed that love. Earlier in the film, Keating recites the Whitman poem, O Me! O Life! In summary, the poem essentially states that life itself is what makes life worth living. It's a question and answer poem. The speaker wonders what about life is worth living when it is full of constant suffering. They get an answer: life itself is. You being here on Earth and having an identity is what makes it worth it. Neil doesn't see that worth anymore. Life without the arts, his friends, Keating, is not worth living for him anymore. I really recommend reading that full poem, linked here, it is so gorgeous despite it being so short. That sweaty-toothed madman had a gift.

I think that's pretty much everything. There have been a MILLION think pieces on Todd and Neil's whole relationship (TLDR: those boys are GAY) so I didn't get into it here, mainly cause I wanted to focus on Neil and the real meat of my rambling, which was the Biblical allegory. I feel like I said a whole bunch of nothing and it might not make sense to me in the morning but it feels good to get it all out. I love this movie and I love Neil and I love Biblical allegory.

I also hope that this post communicates that suicide is not the answer! Please reach out if you have feelings that make you feel unsafe or need someone to lean on. My DMs are always open and I will leave the major crisis hotlines if needed.

988 - Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, call for support

741741 - Crisis Text Line, text TALK to speak to someone for support.

[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!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

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 ❤️

[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).

[edupunkn00b]

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.

[vampiremediareview]

Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck

The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck is a 1967 comedy horror movie directed by Roman Polanski. I first came to know about it through its musical adaption Dance of the Vampires, released in 1997.

The movie follows two bumbling vampire hunters in their pursuit of both knowledge and a human woman, Sarah, who's recieved the attention of the local vampiric Count von Krolock.

This movie hits all of the typical cornerstones of a vampire movie, right down to a mysterious vampire noble seducing an innocent young girl. The girl, Sarah, is honestly not as involved with the premise of the movie as I'd have personally liked, but I found Sharon Tate's performance as Sarah to be quite nice.

Though it is quite typical as far as vampire movies go, I found it's cinematography to be very interesting. The bleak sights of the winter forest around them creates an amazing sense of isolation and desperation. It creates a sense that they are truly alone and that they need to accomplish their goal in slaying von Krolock.

The Standouts

Sharon Tate's performance as Sarah is very good. It portrays the innocence of youth really well and her curiosity is nice as well. Her costume choice is beautiful and her acting in the final scene is entrancing. Ferdy Mayne's performance as Count von Krolock is nice as well. I especially enjoyed the scene where our two main characters were introduced to him... He has the aura of someone intimidating and dangerous, yet subdued. It was a little more subtle, but he seemed to have a way of lulling people in in different ways, such as when he offers Abronsius his library to use,

The opening credits are stylized in a beautiful way that had me captivated to watch more. The effects with the mirrors and the vampires' lack of reflections was breathtaking and amazing.

My Personal Take

It wasn't nearly as comedic or scary as I would have preferred. In trying to be both I find that is sometimes failing to be either. Abronsius is a little too bumbling for my tastes, though that might be a generational divide. I spent a lot of the movie, looking for symbolism in the plot and not finding much. I also found myself wishing that Sarah had more agency within the story, which leads us to our next section.

Dance of the Vampires

The version of this that I watched was the Berlin 2011 version on youtube (linked here). I primarily chose this one because of its subtitles. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I did find myself enjoying it quite a bit.

One of the main positives for me to this version is the way that Sarah has more agency. Though she is invited by the Count to the ball, it is by her own decision that she joins him there. I also liked that Alfred and Sarah had a stronger relationship in this, perfectly exemplified in their duet with "Draußen ist Freiheit".

The effects in this musical are even more impressive to me given that it is live. It took me a moment to realize that Herbert did not have a reflection in "Wenn Liebe in dir Ist" and once I did, I couldn't help but gasp. The use of color symbolism also doesn't go unnoticed, especially in Sarah's red cape and shoes opposing her white dress.

It is by no means a perfect musical. The relationship between Magda and Chagal left me scratching my head... I wasn't sure what to make of it. "Die Unstillbare Gier" seemed to me strange. I wasn't sure if it was meant to humanize the Count or not. At some point, I decided to give up on reading too much into it and just enjoy the amazing singing, acting, and set design that they put on.

Overall

In conclusion, I do recommend both the movie and the musical to watch. I may have been a bit critical of them, but they were both genuinely enjoyable experiences. I'd say that they are better than the average vampire b-movie coming out today. If you are on the fence about watching it, I would say you should do so. Even if only for the amazing cinematography and atmosphere.

[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.”