#it should have been my family or i should be there at least!

[arc-misadventures]

Can we get team RWBY's reaction to Jaune helping Whitley get a date and actually start to bulk up

Do You Even Lift, Bro?!

: GrrRRrrrRRR?! RAAHHHH?!!

(Thud!)

: Ha haa haaa...

: H-How did I do...?

: Congratulations, you've managed to do half of a push up.

: I'm making progress!

: Yeah...

Jaune Arc, Huntsmen, Atlasian Specialist, and stuck between a love triangle of imaginable possibilities, both good, and bad. He was stuck on what was slowly becoming an impossible task: Training the twig of a human being, Whitely Schnee to bulk up, more so for his personal imagine, than anything else. His crush would probably like it if he bulked up a bit, but, Fiona didn't strike him as the type who was into muscles.

Jaune: Granted not being able to do a pushup, to being able to do half of a push up is an improvement. All be it an insignificant one...

Jaune: Okay, get up, we'll move on to weights...

Jaune offered, Whitely a hand who took it. Jaune effortlessly lifted him up, even getting some air in the process. Jaune was starting to think he needed to see a doctor, the boy was so light, he was starting to fear he was underweight, or something else.

Jaune: Okay, there's like... no strength in your arms, so we'll work on some dumbbells. Let's start with... five pounds. Okay?

Whitely: Okay!

Jaune handed over one five pound dumbbell, and when he grabbed it what happened, Jaune had expected to happen.

Whitely: Wa-Ahh?!

(Thud!)

Jaune: ...

Jaune watched as, Whitely effortlessly, and helplessly dropped the dumbbell, because it weighed too much, and the kid couldn't hold it in the air for one second.

Jaune: Haa... Okay... We'll start with a, two pound dumbbell...

Whitely: Okay...

Jaune handed, Whitely a two pound dumbbell, and while he was struggling to hold it, he didn't drop it at least.

Jaune: This is going to be harder than I expected...

Weiss: Jaune? Jaune is that you? What are you doing hereeeeeeeee...?

Jaune turned to see, Weiss staring at him with a faint blush across her face. Jaune was dressed in shorts, and a tight tee-shirt showing off his definitive muscles he gained from his life as a huntsmen.

Yang: Ahh, Weiss here you are what are you...?

Blake: Is something going on... Oh..

Ruby: Damn...

Jaune: Girls, can I help you?

Weiss: Ahh... y-yeah... What are you doing here... in the families home gym... and, since when did we have one?

Jaune: Oh, I'm just helping, Whit start his exercise routine.

Blake: Whit?

Jaune moved to the side to see, Whitely Schnee lifting a dumbbell. At least trying to that is.

Weiss: Whitely?!

Whitely: Hmm...? Oh, hi, Weiss!

Weiss: W-What are you doing here?

Whitely: Oh... I'm bulking up!

Weiss: Why?

Whitely: Well... Okay... Can you guys guess my age?

Ruby: Uhh... thirteen?

Blake: I'd say thirteen.

Yang: I agree, I'd guess your thirteen years old.

Whitely: Oh gods...

Weiss: What?! He's seventeen?!

Ruby: What?!

Yang: Seventeen...? This baby faced twig...?!

Blake: Bullshit.

Jaune: Yeah... I thought he was fourteen too. I recommended he change his diet, and bulk up so people don't think he's a kid. That, and he needs to put on some weight, this kid is as light a feather... See?

Whitely: Wha...? No, not again!

Jaune once again effortlessly picked up, Whitely by the scruff of his shirt, and held him in the air.

RWBY: ...

Yang: Ouch...

Weiss: How much do you weigh?!

Jaune: Hmmm...?

Weiss: Whoa...? Hey?!

Jaune grabbed, Weiss by her shirt, and held her in the air like he did with, Whitely. Jaune shook the pair up, and down for a moment.

Jaune: A little less then what, Weiss does.

Yang: Okay...

Blake: He didn't even have to try...?

Weiss: Put me down you brute?!

Jaune: Whoops. Sorry.

Jaune then let the to go, with, Weiss landing gracefully on her feet, while, Whitely fell flat on his ass.

Whitely: Ow!

Jaune: Oh, sorry, Whit.

Whitely: It's okay. I should have been prepared for the drop.

Blake: Why are you calling him, Whit?

Jaune: It's just a nickname I gave him. And, also a cover for when he goes down to, Mantle again.

Weiss: You've been to, Mantle?!

Whitely: Hasn't everyone?

Weiss: It's a dangerous place with lots of people that would harm you!

Whitely: I know that. Do you think I go dressed as in my suit when I go down there, no, I looked like some skater kid when I'm down there. No one recognizes me. You didn't recognize me when I 'bumped' into you.

Weiss: You bumped into me when we're were in, Mantle?

Ruby: Were you the guy that almost made, Weiss trip?

Whitely: Yep! That was me~!

Weiss: You...?! I almost fell into a pool of dirty water, because of you?!

Whitely: Really? I hadn't notice that.

Weiss: Grr! Why you little twerp?!

Jaune: You nearly did that? Maybe you should bulk up too, Weiss.

Weiss: Excuse me?!

Jaune: Now then, is there something we can help you with? Otherwise, Whitely needs to continue his exercises. Get back to it, Whit!

Whitely: Okay.

Blake: No, we were just here because we heard you voice, and we were curious about what you were doing here.

Jaune: Okay.

Whitely: How many of these should I do?

Jaune: When it starts to hurt, count to twenty.

Whitely: But, it already hurts!

Jaune: Then start counting!

Whitely: Grrr...

Ruby: Well, we're going to some shoppes in, Atlas... do you... do you want to come with us...?

Jaune: No thank you, I don't need anything.

Ruby: Oh... o-okay...

Yang, Blake, and Weiss shared a look before making a silent agreement that they needed to end this, and leave before anything happened.

Blake: We better get going...

Weiss: Yeah, don't want to miss the next airship.

Yang: Well, good luck, Whitely!

Whitely: Thank you!

Yang: And, Jaune, keep on looking fine, and hoooooowwWWW?!

: He's looking like what, Yang?

Weiss: W-Winter?

The members of team, RWBY turned to see, Winter Schnee. Smiling a warmthless smile as she was crushing, Yang shoulder.

Yang: H-He's looking...?! Looking...?! Owowowowowo! Please let me go!

Winter: Looking like what, Yang~?

Yang: H-He's looking like a strong, and dependable senior helping out his young disciple?!

Winter: That's right~!

Winter smiled as she walked past, Yang letting go of her shoulder in the process.

Yang: Ahhh?! Ha haaa...?!

Blake: Are you okay?

Yang: Woman's got a grip like a mechanical vice?!

Winter: Now then, why don't you run along girls. I will help, Jaune here with, Whitely's training.

Ruby: A-Are you sure you don't want our help...?!

Winter then turned bending down as she placed her hands on, Ruby's shoulder. Introducing her to her mechanical vice like grip as she stared daggers at, Ruby.

Winter: Listen here you little pipsqueak! I understand you want to make amends with, Jaune. But, my shows about to begin, and I don't want some little brat interrupting me, and my himbo hunk of a white knight! So kindly turn around, and get the fuck out of here! Okay~?

Ruby: O-O-O-Okay?!

Winter: Wonderful~!

With that, Team RWBY made a swift escape, unless they deal with the wrath of a woman in love.

Winter: Ahh~! Say, Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Winter: I can help set up a proper training regium for, Whitely. Why don't you get some exercise yourself; Might I recommend the barbell?

Jaune: Sure, that wouldn't hurt.

Jaune walked over to the barbell, put it on his shoulders, and started doing some lifts. White, Jaune was doing this, Winter stared on, biting her lips as she watched his muscles bulge as he exerted them.

Winter: Mmmm~! Mama likey~!

Whitely: Sister, can you not do that in front of me?

Winter: Let me salivate over my man, or I'll tell, Weiss about your date with, Fiona.

Whitely: Very good, have a nice day, Winter.

Winter: Mmmm~! Eat your heart out, Robyn~! He's all mine for today~!

~~~

Fiona: What's wrong with blue balloons?

Robyn: My colours are red, and green, also some browns, but red, and green balloons are what's needed for my victory celebration, not...?!

Fiona: ...

Fiona: R-Robyn? Is something wrong?

Robyn: I can feel it!

Fiona: Feel what...?

Robyn: That bitch is trying to steal my man!

Fiona: ...

Fiona: Okay.

[ashen-char]

if it's not you (i don't wanna talk)

ship: anora x reader (gender neutral)

content: no warnings except ani being a disney adult <3

summary: security!reader and ani have been hooking up. gaining her trust is hard after vanya.

word count: 1600+

Ani takes a long, pissed-off drag of her cigarette, standing outside of HQ with little more than her puffer jacket over her shoulders. The rest of her clothes are typical work attire for the erotic dancer, mesh stockings, high sparkly pleasers, a tight red dress with loose straps that accentuates her figure but comes off with a single motion during her routine. As she exhales a plume of smoke, her eyes lock with yours. You're standing barely ten feet away, stationed by the entrance with your arms crossed as you check everyone who goes in and out. Life as part of HQ's security detail has gotten a lot more interesting after you and Ani started hooking up. Right now, you try not to let your gaze flit over her body, clearing your throat and staying on task.

For her part, Ani also doesn't let your illicit affair slip, talking to Lulu as if you're not even there. "What a fucking waste of time, Lu!" Ani spits, turning to her best friend and fellow dancer who's leaning back against the brick wall, vape poking out from her mouth. "Did you notice the way those assholes have been acting all night? Not tipping for shit, and sure as hell didn't wanna go into a private."

"Fuckin' cheapskates. Tell me about it, girl," Lulu agrees. "I convinced this old dude back to room 6 and for what? Barely enough cash to cover my cab fare home!"

"You'd think they could show a little appreciation, y'know? Buying overpriced drinks and getting sloppy drunk, but not a fucking dime to show for it," Ani scoffs, accent sharp and biting. "I forgot how much this place sucks. Two weeks away and I'm already bitching."

"If he didn't take you on that Disney World honeymoon, you should sell the ring and go yourself, at least," Lulu offers.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Maybe if Jimmy stops being such an asshat about the 'long leave' I took."

They've been swapping this cig and vape as they talked for the last ten minutes, something you had to start counting since Jimmy told you to limit the dancers' smoke breaks to 15 minutes, tops. If you give Ani some extra time to cool off on the down low, no one had to know. She still had that faraway look in her eye sometimes, after coming back from her 'failed marriage' as Diamond would call it.

Your footsteps crunch on the pavement as you approach the two, clipboard in hand. Ani stands up straight at the sight of you, and you hate the way she tenses up, jaw set. You miss the stolen flirtation, the steamy glances she'd throw your way, and the touches you'd let graze over Ani's skin when no one was watching. Miss the way she'd laugh at your jokes even if no one else heard them. Miss the way she'd roll her eyes but melt into your touch whenever you held her.

"Five minutes 'til you have to go back in, Lulu. Think Jimmy mentioned one of your regulars is coming?" A little white lie. You wanna talk to Ani, wanna get things sorted after the last time you two 'hung out'. She's been avoiding being alone with you since last Tuesday, when you left before she woke up, so you haven't had the chance to explain. Explain that it was a family emergency, explain that you didn't plan on leaving her, explain that her bed is one of the few places you can actually rest and relax. 

Fuck. You're so sprung.

"Oh, Peter?" Lulu giggles, already fixing up her skirt and her hair at the mention of her regular. "Alright, I'm heading back in. You coming with, Ani?"

Ani's arms cross over her chest, something you can tell is a defensive posture but hopefully Lulu only takes as the same annoyance at the Headquarters cheapskates. "Nah, I'll just finish this," she tells her friend, flicking off some ash from her cigarette and giving Lulu an 'I'm fine' smile. "Go on ahead, I'll see you inside." The blonde accepts this easily, flashing you a polite goodbye as she enters through HQ's double doors.

A beat. Ani isn't looking at you, apparently having decided that the glowing ember at the end of her cig is fascinating. She passes it to you wordlessly but doesn't wanna be the one break the silence. Fair enough.

You sigh. Taking a quick drag since she offered, your words come out with the smoke into the hazy air. "Can we talk? I know I fucked up, but-"

Even that is enough to make the stripper scoff, a bitter laugh escaping her cherry red lips. "Talk?" Anora shakes her head. "Last time we talked, you left." An accusatory finger jabs at your chest, the pointed acrylic of her nail digging in and making it hurt almost as much as her hateful tone. "Before the crack of dawn. Without. A. Damn. Word." Her voice rises with each word, and you glance towards the door to make sure no one overheard.

"Listen to me. I had an emergency. Family shit." Her bitter expression softens the slightest bit, going from a grimace to a frown. "Not that I gotta explain myself to you, since you made it plenty clear we're just fooling around but... I'm not the type to fuck around on a woman I care about."

"Care about?" Ani nods, all sarcastic as she nods and finally, finally looks up into your eyes. "Don't make me fucking laugh, OK? I don't have time for this. I got shit to do. Break's almost over."

"I'll tell Jimmy your break just started now," you barter, but she just laughs, stubbing out her cigarette on the wall and turning on her heel. "Don't run away."

Before you realise it, you've grabbed her elbow. Anora stops. She didn't have to, your touch is barely holding her there, and she could stomp away easily if she really didn't want to hear you out. It tells you she wants to hear this. Wants some assurance that this isn't it, this isn't all you see her as. "Run away? You're the one who ran off, you jackass." And you hate the implicit comparison in that, hate that she's seeing you like her immature dirtbag of an ex.

"I didn't mean to. I should've told you, I know. I didn't think about how it'd look." It's not an explanation but it'll have to be enough. "And I do care. I thought I made that obvious."

She looks at you for a long moment, staring, searching for something in your eyes like she's desperate to believe you. That you really do care, in some fucked-up small way.

"Oh yeah? You care?" she says, in that higher voice she puts on whenever she's mocking whatever poor soul got on her bad side. It stings, but not so bad as the idea that she thinks she's hard to care about. Finds it impossible now, after her runaway pathetic excuse of a husband that left her broken and back on the Headquarters' roster.

"Yes, I do."

She rolls her eyes, but there's no affection in them now. Not like the last time she did it when you two were cuddled up in her bed. "So what was the emergency? Hm?" Ani tilts her head, stalking closer, getting up in your space. "No, actually, you know what? Fuckin' tell me a single thing you know about me that isn't about how good of a fuck I am, or how I feel stretched out on your fingers."

Without skipping a beat, you surprise even yourself when the next words fall out of your mouth. Little things you've noticed when you sleep over, like how she decorates her space or what things make her pretty face fall. "You collect those stupid little Disney figurines that they sell in mystery boxes but don't open them right away because it gives you something to look forward to," you tell her. "Your full name's Anora Mikheeva. You don't like the way it sounds when someone pronounces it wrong, but you don't like when they pronounce it right either. Sounds like your sister when she's yelling at you."

Blinking rapidly, she looks at you like you've grown a second head. You think for a moment that you said too much, showed Ani all your cards, before she starts laughing. "Fuck. What are you, a stalker?" And well, the way she smiles now actually looks impressed. "Fine. I guess you don't just wanna get into my panties, whatever. Kinda sweet of you."

Ani's gaze drops to the ground again, and she kicks at a pebble with the toe of her pleaser. She chews on her bottom lip as she thinks about what you said. You're right, of course, she's got those cute little fuckers lined up on her shelf because they make her smile each afternoon when she's fixing up her hair tinsel. The mystery boxes are a little thrill she gives herself, a silly hobby that makes her feel like a kid again. Cause she grew up too fast.

"Well, so what?" Ani says, but her voice lacks its usual bite. She wants to stand her ground, but she's unconvinced. Noticing things like that is nice, but doesn't explain how you could leave without warning, doesn't convince her that she's cared about for once. "That don't mean shit. You don't know the real me." She wraps her arms around herself tightly, feeling suddenly vulnerable. "No one does." Ani shakes her head, trying to dispel the thoughts racing through her mind.

Your fingertips linger on her skin, as she shifts her arm away, but at least she doesn't turn to go. "I want to," you tell her. "Give me a chance to try."

You must have sounded just genuine enough, because you feel the tell-tale sign of Anora melting into your touch. Accepting your presence. "Buy me an extra mystery box and we're even. And don't even think about ditching me again."

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, I've been meaning to make this post and I never make it, but I'm rewatching s1 and the thoughts are in my head so, what better time than now. Like, I made this point before but I never went into detail.

The thing with 911 and love interests and the way none of Buck and Eddie's love interests ever stood a chance, is because in order for you to make a relationship work on a tv show, you need to make sure your audience cares about both parts. Obviously, getting 2 mains together, madney or bathena, works very easily because both characters exist on their own, so you're already invested in all parties involved, it's a lot easier to make the relationship work because you don't need to spend time making people care about anyone individually, you're just making them care about the relationship. But then you have the issue of making people care about a relationship when one of the parties is only there to be a love interest.

So let's take Henren. For all intents and purposes, Karen only exists to be Hen's wife, so if they didn't put in the work Karen would be very whatever, because as viewers, our loyalty in most cases will be biased towards the character we see the most. And considering we are introduced to Henren already established, they are already married with a child, which another thing that makes people be less invested, not seeing how it happened, the odds are stacked against Karen, which is bad if the show ever decides to use the character more heavily. But the show introduces her in a perfect way to avoid that happening. For starters, we meet Eva first. And we meet Eva while Hen is making up problems that aren't really there because of the ghost of Eva. We have Athena state how bad for Hen Eva is, we have the conflict Hen herself is feeling, we have her lying by omission. And yes, the whole thing leads to something a lot of people view as unforgivable, cheating, but during that whole storyline, we are siding against Hen, because she is letting this idea of rescuing Eva is making her step out on her family, so we are taking Karen's pain, we are taking Karen's side, and that makes us care about Karen, and therefore we end up invested on them together. And something else is how this all happens while we are still getting to know Hen, so there aren't any preconceived notions of how a relationship for Hen should go.

And the show knows how to work that concept in, but when we are talking about love interests for both Buck and Eddie, is that every relationship is introduced with something that's gonna make us side with them and ignore the other person. Shannon never stood a chance because she was written to be fridged, but leaving Chris is an unforgivable act, Ali isn't around and she fundamentally can't handle who Buck is, Taylor is introduced as willing to hurt Buck's family, Ana isn't around and Eddie is literally panicking about that relationship and even before that, the Christopher of it all, him getting hurt, not wanting Eddie to date, makes it so we're not the biggest fans, Natalia was only interested in Buck's death and since we were watching the damage his death did to everyone, it makes it hard to root for them, Marisol just didn't exist for the audience at all, and Tommy's past plus the circumstances they get together aka Buck hurting Eddie makes it very 😬.

And all of these happened while Buck and Eddie's partnership is continuously shown as getting stronger, so the relationships are fighting against two main characters who have a strong relationship, so it is really hard to establish something that will replace the idea of Buck and Eddie because they're fighting against 7 seasons of partnership. The thing that makes buddie is time. It's everything that happened to them (I mean, the actual thing that makes them it is Christopher but that's a different post). So for a relationship to actually replace them, you need to separate them and then give the new relationship at least half the time buddie had to establish themselves. Audiences generally don't get invested in relationships they didn't see happening, and usually when it's this far into a show and there is another option of paring 2 main characters, it's really hard to make a character likable enough to replace that. People just generally don't end up caring for a character that only exists to be a love interest.

The show knows that, see the way Karen was introduced, so that makes the way they handle Buck, Eddie, and love interests that more pointed.

[sturniololuvrer]

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔…𝙱𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎 — 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 18+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 (1/?)

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: shy!, virgin! Matt x fem! reader

𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: you and the triplets are practically best friends, you met them in LA, where you live. You and Matt unknowingly have feelings for each other, so when they go back to Boston for a whole month, you both realize how strong your feelings really are…

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fluff, smut, male masturbation.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 1,729

𝚊/n: This is my second fic ever! I’m still working on the way I write my plot, but other than that I think I’ve improved! This will be most likely only be two parts…it just depends on how much I decide to write lol. The next part should be out soon…enjoy! xx

You hear the knock on the door of your apartment that you’ve been dreading. Nick, Matt, and Chris are going back to Boston to see their family for an entire month and they’d just arrived to say goodbye to you. You quickly check your appearance in the mirror before padding out of your room to the front door.

You open the door and they file in, the morning light cascading a golden glow on the white walls of your living room. They don’t bother sitting since they’re on their way to the airport already. Nick breaks the silence and hugs you. He was the reason you became friends with all of them in the first place, so you’re closer to him.

“I wish you could come with us.” Nick mutters into your hair with a huff. “Me too…” You say softly as he pulls away. “I couldn’t just get a whole month off of work though.” You snicker softly, trying to lighten the mood. They all chuckle at that and Chris chimes in. “Yeah…I guess that’s the perks of us being our own bosses.”

When he finishes his sentence, he walks up and hugs you as well. As Chris hugs you, you catch Matt’s eyes over his shoulder. He quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks dusting a soft pink. Chris pulls away and sighs, “Okay…we have a flight to catch…”

You nod softly and Nick speaks up. “We’ll text you or call you all the time…well I will at least…” You smile at him, thankful to have a friend as sweet as him. Nick gives you one more quick hug before he and Chris walk out the door.

You think for a moment that Matt might just walk away and leave you here without saying a word, but when he gets to you he wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you as tight as he can without hurting you. You can’t help but gasp at his suddenness, feeling electric shocks everywhere he’s touching.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back. After a while, he pulls away, his cheeks red as he realizes what he did. “S- sorry…I’m just gonna miss you…” He says softly, still avoiding your gaze. You smile up at him. “I’ll miss you too…you text me, okay?”

He nods quickly. “We’ll all text you. I promise.” As he finishes, you both hear Nick shouting from the car. “Let’s go, Matt! We’re gonna miss our flight!” Matt’s eyes widen as if he forgot he has somewhere to be. He quickly pulls you into another hug.

“Bye…We’ll tell you when we board and land.” You nod softly as he pulls away. “Okay…have fun. See you later…” He gives you a smile before walking out the door and getting in the car. Nick hangs his head out the back window, waving and yelling goodbyes as Matt starts to drive, making you laugh and do the same as they disappear. You stand in the doorway for a few moments before sighing and heading back inside.

About a week later, you’re lying in your bed on your day off, staring at the ceiling. You’d usually be hanging out with the triplets on days like this, but they’re still in Boston. You huff, you thought you’d be missing Nick the most, but all you can think of is Matt. You’ve had feelings for him for so long, but you never thought you’d be in a state like this where you weren’t able to ignore them. But right now, for some reason, all you want to do is be near him.

You start to get frustrated, not liking the feelings coursing through you. So, you decide to text one of your friends. You ask if she wants to go out with you and she immediately agrees, rushing to your house.

Your friend does your makeup for you, saying she’s doing her signature ‘getting laid’ look. You groan at that, but let her do as she pleases. She helps you do your hair, leaving it down and just fixing it up. She picks out the shortest, tightest dress in your closet and pairs it with your black heels.

Once your friend deems that you’re ready, she begs you to make a TikTok with her. You begrudgingly agree and she sets her phone up on your vanity and makes you show off your outfit, spinning you around and showing you off like her prized possession as you laugh. You let her post it, thinking nothing of it and you pack your purses and head out to some new club she wants to go to.

Matt is relaxing in his room before bed since it’s later at night for him. He’s mindlessly scrolling through his TikTok feed, bored. His interest is piqued when he sees the video your friend made of you two.

His jaw hangs open at the sight of you and his eyes practically bug out of his head. He’s had feelings for you for some time, but he’s never felt the need to act on them…until now. He doesn’t understand how the 10 second clip of you does it, but he feels a stirring in his pants as he watches it over and over.

After a while, he opens up his messages app, quickly texting you. “Hey, what’re you doing rn?” Your phone buzzes in your purse as you’re sitting at the bar at the club, sipping on a drink. You take it out and your heart skips a beat at the sight of his name.

You open the message, quickly typing a response. “Hey! I’m at the club with my friend. What’s up?” You send a picture of yourself from an angle above your head to show him where you are. You think it’s just a friendly gesture, oblivious to the fact that the top of your tits are pushing out of your dress in perfect view and your thighs are out on display from the short dress, squished slightly from the stool you’re on.

Matt’s mouth goes immediately dry at the sight and he just stares at the photo in shock for what feels like hours. He starts to shakily type out an answer as that previous stirring in his pants turns into an insistent throbbing.

He groans, just giving a haphazard response to end the conversation. “Oh that sounds nice! Have fun and be safe!” You heart his message before sliding your phone back into your purse and going on with your night.

He immediately pulls the picture you sent back up. He feels guilty for it, but he zooms in on your tits, his cheeks flushing. He bites his lip softly, his hips shifting slightly as his pajama pants start to get uncomfortably tight.

Matt swallows hard, his cheeks darkening more as he feels even worse about how hard he’s getting. You’re one of his best friends for fuck’s sake! He can’t just jerk off to you! That’s wrong…right?

He lets out a soft whimper as he continues to stare at the photo of you, wanting so badly to be respectful, but you just look so hot. He groans, unable to take it anymore as he hesitantly pushes his pajama pants down. His black boxers are tented obscenely, a small wet patch already forming where his tip rests.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly pushes his boxers down, his red, leaking cock slapping against his stomach. He inhales sharply as the cool air contrasts harshly to the heat his dick is giving off.

His chest heaves and his cheeks flush as he hesitantly wraps his hand around his shaft. He lets out a soft, desperate noise as he holds his phone up with his free hand to look at the picture of you as he starts to slowly stroke himself.

He huffs, throwing his head back against his pillows as a waves of guilt and pleasure shoot through him. The pleasure outweighs the guilt as he speeds up his hand, letting out soft moans.

He moves his fingers over the photo of you, zooming in on your thighs now, wanting nothing more than to be between them, in any way you’d let him. He slides his thumb over his tip, whimpering as he spreads his precum over his cock.

He pants harshly, all the guilt leaving his body as he pumps himself faster, pushing his thumb over his tip with every stroke. He bites his lips harshly to muffle his noises, his phone falling from his hand and landing face down on his upper chest.

His noises get louder as he strokes faster, bucking his hips up into his hand as he mewls. He tightens his fist around himself, pushing his thumb against his tip harder.

He gets even louder, hoping his family is asleep as he can’t seem to hold them in. After a few more strokes, he starts to feel that familiar build in his lower stomach, his thighs tensing. He fists his sheets with his now free hand, his eyes shut tight as he imagines your mouth on him or you bouncing on him instead of his own hand touching him.

His noises get whinier as he gets closer, his hips bucking even faster into his fist. “F- fuck ’m so- close-“ He whispers into the air as if you’re actually there. Soon, he’s gasping out a needy whimper of your name as he cums, bucking into his hand forcefully as he paints his stomach and hand white.

He pants harshly as he comes down, giving himself a few more lazy strokes before letting himself go. He lies there for a few moments, feeling like an idiot for jerking off to you before getting up and going to the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

When he comes back, he puts on a fresh pair of boxers and slides back into bed. He picks up his phone from the bed and it’s still on his messages with you. He thinks nothing of it before he looks closer and realizes he’s sent a four minute voice message to you 5 minutes ago.

He almost screams as he clicks it and hears himself moaning. He frantically moves to unsend the message, but he looks down and sees the read receipt. You’d seen it the minute he’d sent it.

“SHIT!”

𝚊/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! Part two should be out soon! Let me know if you want to be tagged in it or if you have any ideas for it! As always, any critiques or tips on my works and layout are always appreciated! I’ll try to answer any asks and comments left as well! Thanks! xx

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty one

authors note: foreshadowing? planted seeds? twists? who knows.

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and drama

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“You know we should probably be getting up soon.”

“Probably.”

Solana waits for him to move. He doesn’t, but neither does she. “Ro?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t moved.”

He makes a sound, hands shifting just a bit, clearly trying to be mindful of the Saniderm still covering one of her new tattoos. “Neither have you.”

Solana opens her mouth to protest, but she can’t, because he’s right. They’ve been in this position for a good hour now, him laying on top of her, in between her legs, hugging her, head resting comfortably on her chest as she plays with his hair that’s down, free, in its natural state. 

It’s comfortable, to say the least. She enjoys being laid up with him, being close to him, but she also knows that they have a long day ahead of them, a day that can’t start as long as they’re still in bed together.

Even Dulce who snores quietly in her newest princess bed.

“True,” she agrees. “But, I can’t move unless you move, so….”

Roman grunts quietly, adjusting himself on top of her. “I’m not moving.”

“Ro…..”

“How have you been feeling?”

Somehow, Solana knows exactly what he’s referring to despite it being a general, almost vague question. 

“The morning sickness has gotten a little better.” Thank God. That constant feeling of nausea as well as having to vomit every morning was becoming borderline unbearable. “No bleeding….” Her voice lowers. Solana doesn’t really like talking about that situation. Regardless of everything being, hopefully, okay now, it was still a terrifying experience that she’d rather not revisit. 

And something tells her that her husband feels the same way. 

“Good,” he murmurs, hand moving to the side of her, finger moving in absent, shapeless motions. When he says nothing, Solana finds herself giggling, small smile growing on her face. 

“You’re really not gonna move, are you?”

A second of delay. Like he’s really considering it. Like he’s actually going to move. “Naw.”

Rolling her eyes, Solana once again is reminded that as big and strong as her husband can be, he most definitely has his “big baby” moments.

And speaking of baby….

“So, I’ve been thinking—”

“Yes?”

“Until we go public with the pregnancy, or start telling people, if I start to get sick—”

At that, he lifts his head, gaze focused on her. “Sick?”

“Morning sickness,” she clarifies, keeping her hand in his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp. “I need to be able to tell you without….ya know….telling you.” 

He nods. “I agree.”

“So, I came up with something. At least…at least for tonight.” Because keeping this pregnancy a secret for at least the next 2 or 3 months will most likely continue to be a challenge that they have to navigate together. “If I sit on your lap—”

“I like it already.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his sly remark. “—and I squeeze your thigh—”

He makes a sound, dipping his mouth to kiss the top of her chest. “I really like that—”

“Then I’m starting to feel sick, and we need to leave.” She bites down on her bottom lip, suddenly unsure if what she’d come up with makes sense. “Is—is that okay?”

Roman chuckles. “Baby, you had me sold at sitting on my lap.” Of course, she did. “Are you sure you want to do this today?” 

This refers to two things. One being meeting and speaking with her biological father, and the second being her informing the rest of her maternal family of their kinship.

She's nervous as shit about both, but she also knows that she needs to do this.

For herself.

"I am," she answers, nodding to herself. "I have to."

He doesn't say anything, and she's grateful. Grateful that even if he doesn't outright agree, he's still being supportive, because that's just who he is to her. A support system.

And it's one of the man reasons she loves him.

When the silence continues, Solana decides to switch gears a little. Take advantage of this time they have together. “Well, since you still haven’t moved….” Her voice is initially teasing before slipping into something more serious. “I know you don’t want me training during this pregnancy, and I agree, but I don’t—I don’t want to stop learning altogether.”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“I want to learn how to shoot,” she cuts him off, unsurprised when he lifts his head to look at her. “I’ve been texting Afia, and she—”

“Afia?” Finally, Roman sits up and moves off her, but it’s not for the reasons she was hoping. “Since when do you talk to her?”

“Ro…..” She’s careful with her words, trying to be respectful of Roman’s boundaries but also recognizing her autonomy. “She’s your brother’s wife. My sister-in-law….” Solana’s hand drops to her stomach. “Their kids will be the girls' cousins. If you….if you aren’t ready to try to build a relationship with Matteo, that….that’s fine, but—I like Afia. She’s nice, and we get along well. And she’s been going to the shooting range, and I wanna go with her.”

Roman looks away, and Solana readies to say something else, but she stops when she sees that he’s clearly deep in thought. Most likely trying to combat logic with emotion. Trying to find a balance between what he wants and what she wants. 

“I don’t know, Sol. I don’t know her well enough to trust you with her.”

“That’s why you’ve gotta trust me,” is her soft response. Solana scoots over to him, holding onto his muscular arm. “Trust my judgment.” Eager to help him further consider her perspective, she points out, “not being able to train at all is going to be hard for me, Ro. I need something.”

It’s already been hard for her. Solana has gotten used to the routine and empowerment that comes with feeling herself grow stronger, psychologically and physically. And sure, once her pelvic rest restrictions are lifted, there’s a small chance she could continue to train, just in a different capacity. However, she doesn’t want to take any chances, and she knows Roman feels the same way.

Thus, this feels like an appropriate substitution. Because truth be told, being his wife, and not even knowing how to properly hold a gun, let alone use it, feels almost like a crime. Solana doesn't like weapons, especially guns, but it feels naive and almost irresponsible to not at least know how to use one.

Even if she prays that day never comes. 

“What if I teach you?” He suddenly suggests, eyes almost hopeful. “If you want to learn, it should be from the best.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that. She’s heard people talk about as such. Not only does Roman excel at hand to hand combat, which she’s seen for herself, his aim is impeccable.

He never misses.

“I’d be okay with that,” she agrees, voice trailing. “But, I want to learn from Afia as well.”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“Just like training with a woman is different from training with a man, I think…I think learning how to shoot might be the same.” Perhaps. She’s not entirely certain, but it leads into her next point. “And, I would just feel better learning from the both of you.” She kisses his shoulder, a small smile forming on her face. “But, if it helps, I really want to learn the spear from you. Only you.”

Solana is relieved to see his small grin as well. “You still on that spear obsession?”

She pouts, defending herself. “It’s not an obsession. It’s just….it seems effective. Like…like a finishing move, almost.” 

When coming from her husband, at least. She’s certain she could never inflict nearly as much damage as he could, largely because of the differing experience. Mostly because Roman is fucking huge. 

Almost 300lbs of pure muscle coming at someone with all that weight and speed?

Yeah….recipe for disaster. 

Or worse.

The thought pattern cause her to ask something she’d heard but hasn’t had a chance to inquire about. “Is it true you ruined someone’s career with a spear? Brock something?”

It’s not missed on her how he tenses a bit. “Yeah. Old college football rivalry that bled into the ring.” Roman scoffs, his hand moving to her knee, thumb caressing her skin. “I’ll admit. Fucker was the most physically challenging opponent I’ve ever faced.” Her eyes widen at that. Roman being challenged by anyone in that way seems and almost feels impossible. “We went at it a couple times, but the last one, I speared him, he went down badly on his right leg, the dominant one, and fucked it up real good. Ended any chance he had at going pro.”

Solana nods, taking it all in. “He wasn’t….he wasn’t in….ya know, the business?” For some reason, it feels almost strange asking about that. Asking about someone’s affiliation, membership, or lack thereof, in the crime world. Mostly because Solana was always left out of these conversations by Xavier, her preference at the time. 

Not necessarily, anymore. 

Roman scoffs, shaking his head. “He tried, but he was a dumbass farm boy who didn’t have the mental capability to make it or be successful." She winces, partially feeling bad. 

Curious, Solana inquires, “whatever happened to him?”

Roman shrugs, answering, “last I heard he bought a shit ton of land and does farming. I don’t know beyond that, and I don’t really fucking care to be honest with you.” Fair and expected for her husband. “What I care about is you and keeping you safe.”

His smooth redirection back to the conversation at hand is impressive, but as is the case with most things Roman Reigns related. “I will be safe, Roman. I just….training also helps me to feel safe, so I need something else to help me with that in the time being.” And when he looks at her, partially concerned, she already knows what he’s thinking. “You always make me feel safe, Ro. The safest I’ve ever felt in my life, but I—I also need to be able to provide that for me. Learning how to fight and defend myself has been so good for me. Please….please let me keep it going.”

Solana watches and waits quietly, allows and prays her words settle into her overprotective husband. She can understand why this could be hard for him, but she hopes his faith and trust in her overpowers any mistrust he might have in Afia.

“Alright,” he acquiesces. “If this is really what you want—”

“It it,” she speaks up, excitement growing at the possibility of his approval. “It really is.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “Then you can do it.” Solana giggles and holds his arm, hugging him. “But, I want Bautista with you at all times—”

“Of course.” An easy thing to agree to, Solana readying to ask Roman why and if Solo will ever return to being included in her personal security detail when he transitions the topic.

“Since we’re talking about shit…” Roman moves off the bed, Solana frowning and watching him walk over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, pulling out two letters that she focuses on as he climbs back on the bed. Handing them both to her, she reads her name on both letter as he shares, “these are for you….”

The confusion grows, weighing down her furrowed brows. “What—what are they?” Her question is premature as she notices the sender. 

Pacific Life

Her frown deepens. 

“What…..”

Roman nods gently. “Open em’.”

Solana still has so many questions, but they’re questions that clearly can only be answered by opening said letters. 

And, that’s exactly what she does.

Solana has always been a quick reader, so it doesn’t take long for her to come to some level of understanding. Pacific Life is clearly a life insurance company, and said letters both say the exact same thing, with the main difference being the names listed on each.

One is Xavier Miller, and the other is Wesley Miller.

And both include checks. 

“Oh my God…..” Solana’s hand slaps over her mouth, her eyes widening as she takes in the amount. The same on both checks.

$15,000,000.00

Wide eyes darting up to her husband, she drops her hand, mouth ajar. “I dont…..what?”

Roman moves his hand to her cheek, voice as gentle as his gaze. “I settled Xavier’s debts to keep them from coming after you—”

Solana’s stomach flips. “Roman—”

“And clearly, Xavier had Wes as his beneficiary for his life insurance policy and vice versa for Wesley. With them both dead and you last of kin, that makes you the beneficiary of both policies."

Nothing he’s saying is any different from what’s included in both letters outside of Roman paying off Xavier’s debt, something she both hates and loves. Hates her husband did anything for that man but recognizes and loves that he did it for her, did it to keep those debts from being sacked onto her.

But, regardless, there’s something so mind-blowing about opening two letters and finding oneself is now thirty million dollars richer.

“I don’t—I can’t—” Her words are choppy, similar to her many, fleeting thoughts. “I don’t want anything from them.”

Roman sighs, his response calm and supportive. “I figured you’d say that, and I respect it. I’ll respect whatever you decide to do.” It’s obvious there’s more, that he has additional thoughts, thoughts that he goes on to share. “But Sol, they put you through hell. You deserve this and so much more. It doesn’t change what happened, but maybe with this, you can do something good.”

Solana listens to him. Listens to the valid points he makes. This money most definitely doesn’t take back any of the horrors she experienced at the hands of those men, but the money….the money could be used for something, as Roman pointed out, good. 

A thought crosses her mind, as she suggests almost tentatively, “Like starting a college fund for the girls?”

Roman’s smile is small and slightly amused. “I don’t think we need to worry about paying for college, Sol.”

Fair. Sometimes, Solana forgets her husband is an actual billionaire.

A similar thought arises. "Or what about my schooling?"

"No." He shoots that down almost immediately. "I'm paying for that for you." Which makes sense, yes, but if she can afford it now with all this money, why not?

Roman shakes his head. “Just take some time and think about it,” his encouragement is gentle. “That and what you want to do with the house, too….”

Her eyebrows furrow. “The house?” Roman says nothing, but the way his expression softens almost sympathetically is all the answer she needs.

“Oh…..” 

The house she grew up in. The house that holds so many memories. Good. Bad. Some unidentifiable space in between. 

Yeah... she most definitely has to think about that.

“Okay.” A quiet, single word of agreement. Roman leans forward and kisses her temple, his hand settling over her stomach. 

His conciliatory touch is conjoined with a gentle, “let’s get ready.”

—----

The meeting with Darnell takes place at a restaurant. One Roman had cleared out just for this reason. A meeting she's instantly regretting the moment she walks in, her husband close by her side.

Her eyes land on the table where the other man sits, nervously bouncing his leg up and down. She takes a brief second to search his face, searching for any signs of similarities.

Nothing stands out to her.

And when they're close enough to him, Darnell also stands up and sets his focus on her, his eyes widening and instantly softening as he takes her in, studying her from top to bottom. Solana diverts her gaze and unconsciously leans into Roman’s solid, protective frame.

“Wow….” He finally speaks, volume barely above a whisper. “You….you look so much like her.”

Solana says nothing. What once would be considered a compliment is now a thing that only further confuses her muddled emotions. 

He moves to take a step forward, but Roman is already on it. “That’s fucking close enough.”

It’s appreciated, the parameters being set for her as Solana continues to go back and forth with herself regarding if this was a good idea or not. 

The answer changes from moment to moment. 

Disappointment flashes in his face, but he says nothing, simply nodding as he retakes his seat. 

It’s only then Solana speaks again, not to her biological father, but to her husband. Turning around, having to remind herself to be mindful of her interactions with him, she simply states, “I’m okay.”

Roman’s fierce gaze switches from Darnell to herself. An unspoken ‘are you sure?’. She nods, smile small but voice firm. “I’ll be okay.”

Bloodline security surrounds the place. Bautista is right outside the door. Darnell would have to be an idiot to try anything. 

Especially with Roman present. 

Roman’s disagreement is noticeable, Solana opting to place her hand on his chest, quietly repeating, “I’ll be okay.”

And it’s on this final reiteration that it locks and settles in for him. Roman gives her a small nod of acknowledgement, then turns his icy stare on Darnell, an unspoken threat and promise of violence should he try anything.

“I’ll be outside,” Roman informs. She offers him a final, small smile before he disappears, leaving her alone with Darnell. 

Solana takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair opposite him. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does he. Not for a good five minutes at least. 

“How?” It’s a practical whisper followed up with a firmer, “how did you find out?”

Solana looks away, partially unsure why eye contact is so difficult. “I found…I found a letter she wrote me explaining….explaining things.” She’s tempted to say everything but ultimately decides against it, as everything has not been explained, hence why she’s sitting across from the man in front of her.

He nods, eyes searching and studying her. “What—what exactly did she tell you?”

A lot. So much. More than one person should have to process and deal with at any given time. 

Still, Solana does her best to answer his questions, despite the fact that she only asked for this meeting so she could ask her questions. “How….how she met…..Xavier. How…how she met you…..the….the plan—”

“To leave, right?” All she can do is nod, finally looking over at him to see the devastation painted all over his face. “I never—I never found out…how….how he learned of the plan—”

One of her questions suddenly answered without her even asking. It’s not, however, the answer she was looking for. Granted, it’s obvious someone betrayed them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that much.

“I have to admit. This….this isn’t how I imagined this conversation going.” A quiet admission filled with undeniable sadness and regret.

Curious, Solana inquires, “how—how did you think it would go?”

He shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Silence

"I've waited....waited so long to meet you, to meet my daughter—"

"Please—please don't call me that." A whispered request, one that makes his countenance dim but something needs. It's bad enough she already feels unwell about this whole thing but him referring to her as that, even if true, it just....it feels too soon.

Continued silence until he speaks again, shattering it.

“Solana…..” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I—” He stops, pulling out his phone, clicking around, turning it so she can see. One look at the screen, and Solana knows right away what she’s looking at. 

Who she’s looking at.

The resemblance is strong and striking. The same smile. Same brown eyes they clearly inherited from her mother. Similar complexions.

This is her brother. 

“This….this is Shawn,” she lifts her gaze from the phone to Darnell who wears a small smile. “This is your brother.” Her eyes shut, as he continues to explain what she most definitely has not asked about. “He’s in his second year of residency. Working to become a pediatrician. He just got engaged—”

And because she can’t take it, can’t hold it in any longer, Solana asks. Has to ask. “Where were you?”

If she was looking at him, she’d see the quick and unmistakable way his smile shifts back into a frown. “What?”

From some place, a place unknown, Solana starts to find her voice. Starts to tap into the reasons and emotions that drove her to schedule this meeting in the first place. “You—you knew about me, right?”

There’s an undeniable sadness in his eyes. “From the moment your mother told me about the pregnancy.”

For some reason, that doesn’t help her to feel any better. To settle the influx of emotions rising within her. “And you—you knew that—that the plan failed, that….that she was killed.”

His eyes shut, and he looks away. A quiet, pained, “yes.”

“But that….that I survived, that….that I was still with him, in that—in that house.” Emotion betrays her, stirring and rising, resulting in choppy sentences that somehow manage to alert the man across from her just where she’s going with this. 

“Solana—”

“So where were you all these years?” A devastating question that needs, deserves, an answer. “Where have you been?” Betrayal paints her face as she issues her next icy question. “Or were you too busy being a dad to the child you wanted?”

There's a good, solid minute of absolute silence as Darnell clearly works to choose the right words.

“Solana, I always wanted you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in all these years that I haven’t thought about you, thought about trying to get you, but…..sweetheart.” Solana's nails scrape against the table. Something about that nickname doesn't settle right with her. “There was no way for me to try to take you from him that didn’t put you in danger. If he found out who I was, about me, he’d have no doubt either killed me or you. And then what?” A rhetorical question as he shakes his head. “I couldn’t save you without risking—”

“So you just left me there with that monster—”

“I didn’t have a choice, Solana—” His voice is desperate, eyes pleading. “I—I always hoped he would marry you off to someone, and then maybe I could reach out, and he did, but it was to that other monster Roman—”

And that is when Solana's anger reaches a dangerous level.

Her voice is unwavering and borderline threatening. “Don’t you dare talk about my husband.” She points to the door. “He is the first and only man in my life to not hurt me. To protect me. He protects me the way you should have—”

“Solana—”

“But, you didn’t. You left me to the real monster, and then you want to show up after all these years, showing me pictures of the sibling that I never knew I had, the sibling who I’m sure you gave a good life to, meanwhile, I spent over twenty years in hell—”

“Sol—”

“Do you know how bad it was for me?” Her throat is heavy and chest feels weighed down. “The things—the things they did to me—” Solana's voice breaks. “The things he let people do to me—”

“Sweetheart...." To be fair, Darnell looks sympathetic, but his explanations somehow contrasts that. Seems invalidating. Justifying. "I couldn’t risk losing you, too." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "If I tried to take you from him, he would have killed y—"

“Being dead would have been better than being in that house!” It’s a dark, heavy thing to say, but it’s how she feels. Or, maybe it’s how she feels in this moment. To be fair, she’s feeling a lot of things. A lot of confusing, conflicting, overwhelming things. It’s too much. 

This is all too much.

She thought she was ready. She wanted to be ready, but it’s evident by the way her face is warming up and her chest is tightening that she was wrong.

“I can’t do this,” she finally announces. Solana looks over at Darnell whose shoulders drop at her exclamation. “I—I can’t do this right now.”

Solana moves to stand up, but so does he. He also reaches across the table, his hand just centimeters away from touching her. “Solana, please—”

“I—I can try on a different date, but—but—this—it’s too—it’s too much.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. It’s only then she recognizes where this is headed. She’s on the path to a panic attack, and for so many reasons, primarily the two lives growing inside of her, she has to get the hell out of dodge. 

Darnell circles around the table and finally makes contact, grabbing her forearm. Solana is taken back by the fact that she doesn’t panic or jump at the action, that him touching her doesn’t elicit another layer of anxiety.

Still, she requests, “let me go.”

His voice is dripping with desperation. “Ten minutes. I’m just asking for ten—”

“—let me go.”

“—please. I’ve waited for so long—”

“Let me go.”

“—if you—”

“Roman!” 

It practically defies logic and the science of how time works, because one minute she’s shouting for her husband, a natural thing that comes to her in the space of this fear, and the next, he’s back in the room, roughly barking at her father to get away from her. Solana reaches for Roman, grabbing his arm, redirecting his attention back to her instead of Darnell who’d stepped back, hands up in a defensive manner. 

“I just wanna leave,” she whispers, Roman moving his hands to her face, clearly assessing for any sign of injury. “P–please.”

Roman nods, ushering her out of the restaurant, but not before he issues a cold, steel warning to Darnell. 

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

Solana doesn’t know if she agrees with that. If she wants, overall, for Darnell to leave her alone. There’s still so much for them to discuss, but as of right now, mentally, it’s not something she’s ready for. Not something she can handle. So, for now, distance is the best thing.

Only time will tell if that changes. 

—-------

Solana is dangerously close to calling off the whole thing. From backing away from the plan to inform the rest of Bayley/her family of the kinship. The meeting with Darnell messing with her so much that Roman has to stay with her for the rest of the afternoon given her spiked anxiety. He’d asked if she needed him to call Gayle for an appointment, but she turned it down, leaning on her coping skills learned in therapy as well as his support.

She’s not entirely sure what she expected to hear or how the meeting would go, but her reaction and how deeply it impacted her definitely took her by surprise. And, if she’s being completely honest with herself, anxiety isn’t the only emotion that came out of that meeting.

Jealousy.

Jealousy is something she also left with, jealousy that a sibling, her twin, of all people got to live a normal life. Probably got to do all of the normal things that kids should be able to do. Darnell probably taught him how to ride a bike.

Xavier once pitched hers into the street and rolled it over in front of her because she didn’t clean the house ���good enough.”

He probably got to have playdates with friends.

Solana went to maybe one or two, each one ending with Xaxier screaming at and beating her mom for allowing her to do so.

He probably went to homecoming and prom.

Solana spent both of those in the ER from injuries sustained from Xavier and Wes’s beatings.

He’s a doctor.

Solana is just going for her bachelors at 29.

There’s just so much unfairness. Her twin lived the best life while she was stuck in the depths of hell.

And no, it’s not his fault, because he was a child just like her. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s jealous that this sibling received the life she deserved and angry at her father for not saving her and giving her that same kind of life. 

“Hey.” Bayley’s kind voice and soft voice pull Solana from her inordinate thoughts. “You still thinking about that meeting?”

Solana nods. Hard not to. “It just….it wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”

Bayley presses her lips together before offering. “I get that, and I hate that for you, too, but just because that didn’t go well, doesn’t mean that this won’t.” She places down the brush she was using to set Solana’s face with powder. “Solana…” Bayley joins their hands, eye contact unwavering. “You are family. They’re not going to be upset or deny you or turn you away. They’ll have questions, maybe, sure. But, it’s not going to be this massive, hurtful thing. If I had any feeling it would be anything but accepting, I would be trying my damn hardest to talk you out of this. But, I don’t, so I’m not.” Bayley lifts one hand to touch up an unruly strand that’s shifted from the bangs she cut for her cousin not even an hour earlier. "Everything's going to be okay.”

The words are helpful. Immensely. And so greatly appreciated. More than Bayley could ever know. Especially following the day Solana has had.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Solana also manages a smile. “It—it means a lot to me.”

Bayley makes a sound. “Don’t mention it, prima.” Bayley grabs the brush once more, dusting it over Solana’s nose before assessing her work. “I must say, while the canvas is breathtaking, I do some damn good work.” She steps to the side allowing Solana a final view of the finished product. “What do you think?”

Solana thinks and feels a lot of things looking at her reflection.

Different.

It looks and feels like a different person. The bangs framing her forehead, brushing the top of her eyebrows and somehow highlighting the beautiful gold eye look Bayley did for her. Bayley’s magic continues and spreads from the highlight atop her cheek, the red lipstick on her full lips, even to the red, floral dress Solana is wearing. Initially something she thought a bit too revealing but something her cousin talked her into.

The emotion is undeniable as she finds herself almost unable to look away from herself. “I love it.” She turns to Bayley, standing up from the chair and pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll invoice that rich ass husband of yours.” Bayley’s comments makes Solana laugh and helps her to push back the tears. She can’t ruin this stunning face. “Speaking of….”

The two break apart, and Solana sets her gaze on her husband who’s just walked in. 

Naturally, she studies the way his eyes widen slightly when he sees her. “Damn…”

Giggling, Solana walks over to him and moves her hands to his chest, asking almost nervously, “do you like it?”

She hadn’t told him about the plan to modify her dyed hair yet again by cutting bangs, wanting to surprise him. He just thought she was going to Bayley’s salon for the two to get ready together. And while that definitely happened, this happened as well.

“I love it,” he finally answers, his eyes sweeping her over. “You look beautiful, Sol.” It doesn’t matter how many times he says it, it never gets old. Never fails to make her heart swell and stomach flutter. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and turns her head when he goes to kiss her, reminding with a giggle, “don’t mess up my makeup!” 

He makes a sound and kisses her neck, murmuring, “I’d mess up a hell of a lot more if I could.” His big hand snakes down to grab her ass, prompting her to lightly push on his chest. 

“Behave,” she scolds, unable to deny there’s a part of her that feels the same. Pelvic rest is absolutely necessary, at least for another week or two, but the lack of that type of intimacy between them, the inability to have it has been….something, to say the least. 

Needing a distraction, she turns to Bayley while speaking to Roman. “She did an amazing job, didn’t she?”

However, it’s only then Solana sees the way Bayley rolls her eyes, not at her statement, but at Roman who is also now looking with utter boredom. 

Shoulders dropping, Solana realizes it’s time to address this issue. 

“Guys.” She pulls away from Roman, crossing her arms over her body. “This has to stop.” She looks between them. “I love you both, and I know—I know what happened was hard, and I’ll never stop being sorry for putting you two in that position, but—” She looks at Roman, “Bayley is my cousin,” she then switches her gaze to Bayley, “Roman is my husband.” She shakes her head, asserting, “neither of those facts are going to change. Ever. So, I want, I need you two to drop this. I need us all to be family.” Realizing that may be too much, at least for now, she compromises, “at least be cordial.” An assessing gaze between the two of them reveals some crumbling of steel resolve, prompting her to pull out that card. “For me?”

That does it, both Bayley and Roman looking away, revealing her final play’s success. “Fine.” Bayley is the first to speak. “I’ll try to be nicer to him.”

Roman looks like he’s almost in physical pain as he forces out a steel, “same.” 

Bayley scoffs. “Like you know how to be nice to anyone other than Sol—”

“Don’t fucking push it—”

“Guys,” Solana cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please.”

Muttered, reluctant ‘sorry' from both of them as she shakes her head. There’s still a ways to go, but it’s a start. 

One issue tackled. Sort of.

Another major one left to go.

—------

Sitting in front of them shouldn’t be so intimidating. Shouldn’t have her tapping her foot on the floor, her attention briefly diverting to thoughts of Roman. To wondering if she should have had him stay instead of standing outside. Solana does her best to remind herself of why she initially told him that. She can do this and is capable, and she doesn’t need her husband right beside her to feel his support.

Especially when she’s got Bayley right next her.

“Thank you for—for meeting with me.” The second meeting of the day, this one, hopefully, going much better than the one from earlier. “I—I don’t know how much Bayley told you.”

Juanita offers a small smile. “Just that you needed to speak with us about something….in private.” She gestures around the vacant restaurant, the only other bodies present are the ones back in the kitchen, preparing for the night’s event.

Santos says nothing, his gaze watchful and studying. Bayley’s recommendation for him to be included and invited to this “reveal” was something she was unsure about, Roman definitely against, but something she eventually agreed to given Bayley’s valid points. He’s technically Solana’s cousin too, Melina’s partner and the father of their child, not to mention the tension that exists between him and Roman. With all the connections they share, prior to even officially meeting, it makes sense to start easing into that transition now. 

And truth be told, from the moment Santos walked into the restaurant and shook her hand and just from the little she’s seen, Solana can see why he and Roman don’t get along. It’s probably the same reason Roman is indifferent, borderline hostile to his brother. 

They’re too much alike. 

Santos exudes a strong, commanding, almost mysterious presence similar to her husband. But, there’s that almost charismatic element to him that reminds her of Matteo. 

She can only hope the three of them being under the same roof tonight won’t bring about anything bad. 

Returning to the conversation at hand, at Juanita’s statement, Solana nods and nervously clears her throat. “I’m sorry if it was any inconvenience—”

“Not at all,” Bernardo dismisses with a wave of his hand. “We are curious what this is about though.”

A fair statement. One Solana knows only she can handle.

She takes a deep breath. “I—I love to write. I—I always have. It’s—it’s something I inherited from my mother. We used to—we used to write to each other all the time.” Solana prepares to take another deep breath when Bayley places a comforting hand on her knee. Solana offers a small, appreciative smile. 

It’s the subtle, non-verbal reminder she needs. 

She nods to herself. “It’s—it’s a long story, but I was….I was sorting through her journals and putting them away in my library at my home, and I—I came across a letter she wrote me before—” Emotion catches her, Solana’s voice wavering slightly. “Before she was killed.”

Her fingers taps against the exposed skin on her thigh, as if going to reach for the letter. A letter she opted to not share in its entirety. Just the portions that confirm her mother’s true identity. 

Solana then moves to grab the papers out of her purse, handing them over. In a low voice, she directs, “you—you can read for yourselves.” 

All three wear confused expressions, but Bernardo is the one to accept the two pages, Santos and Juanita nearing closer to also gain visual access. 

Meanwhile, Solana goes to pick at the material of her dress when Bayley shifts her hand, placing it over hers. Another nod of support, her warm brown eyes converting every bit of, “it’s going to be okay.”

Solana squeezes her hand, telling herself the same thing. 

It’s going to be okay. 

A minute or two passes before the first sound of response. 

“Mio Dios…..” It’s Bernardo, and he has a closed fist covering his mouth as his wide, emotional eyes lift to Solana. “You’re Alma’s daughter?”

Juanita gasps, eyes watering. “She had a child?”

Santos looks between her and the letter, as if trying to make the connection. “How? Is it—is it just you? Are there any other children she had?”

It’s difficult to breathe, let alone respond, but Solana finds it in her to do so. “I—I apparently have a twin brother—” More gasps of shock, as she explains, “I don’t—I didn’t know until the letter. There’s a lot more in there, and it’s all so confusing, and I know it’s a lot just what you read, so if you need time—”

“No.” Again, Bernardo is the one to speak, his tone firmer. “For years, we’ve wondered what happened to my niece. Ricardo—he died of a broken heart after losing your mother, he died not knowing what happened to his only daughter. We’ve all lived with that grief, and now here you are, have been here all this time….” He stops, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry we didn’t—we couldn’t do anything to help her. To help you.”

It’s an unexpected ending that has her eyes watering. Solana replies with just as much emotion. “You—you didn’t know.”

“But, we know now,” Juanita says, wiping at her eyes. “And now that we have you, that we know who you really are….” She stops, laughing a little, “well, I can’t even call you newfound family, cause you’ve already become that for us.” Solana sniffles, not even realizing she herself has started crying. Juanita's eyes widen as she looks over at her husband. “Paloma—”

He closes his eyes, going to speak again. “Your grandfather, my brother, is no longer with us, but his widow is. Paloma—”

“I know,” Solana interrupts in a quiet voice, unsurprised at their shocked expressions. “My–my husband took me to Isla Mujeres for my birthday a couple months ago, and I—I actually met her.” Her voice breaks again, Solana blotting at her eyes as Bayley hugs her from the side. “I—I haven’t told her because—because I’m scared, and I—I didn’t know if you guys would accept me or believe me.”

“Accept you?” Bernardo echoes. Solana watches as he stands up from his chair and walks over, extending a hand. Unconsciously, she stands up, Bayley releasing her, as Solana accepts it. He gives a small squeeze. “Solana, you are family. My great niece. Mi familia.” 

What happens next is unexpected, and months prior, could have easily sent Solana spiraling and triggered the absolute hell out of her.

Bernardo pulls her into a hug, holds her, his hand cradling the back of her head. And Solana doesn’t panic, doesn’t freeze, doesn’t feel triggered. She feels safe. The comforting, almost parental, fatherly embrace is all so unfamiliar but nice.

It’s such an interesting dichotomy. With Darnell, Solana found explanations. With Bernardo and company, she’s finding empathy. Sympathy. And it’s not really until this moment that she’s realizing maybe she wasn’t looking for answers from her biological father as much as she was looking for comfort. For validation. 

For this.

Pulling away, she wipes at her eyes, laughing when Juanita pulls her into a hug that’s even tighter. 

Motherly.

Releasing her, Juanita blots at Solana’s eyes as Santos crosses his arms, taking in the sight.

“So, the great Solana Reigns all my family kept raving about is actually also family,” he says with a small chuckle. Solana turns to him, lips pressed together, listening and watching closely. “Well, welcome to the Escobar family.” His eyes narrow just a bit. “You know what this also means, right?”

“No.” Solana gasps, turning around to see her husband whose intense gaze is on Santos, Bayley standing not too far behind him with her arms crossed. She'd clearly went to get him, to invite him back inside. “Tell me.”

Naturally, Solana walks over to Roman, holding onto his arm, his gaze never once leaving Santos. 

Bayley's cousin, err, Solana’s cousin, however, doesn’t even bother to look Roman’s way. “You’re an Escobar. That means you're under the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma. The Cartel as well.”

Solana frowns. She’s heard through Bayley and even brief mentions from Jimmy and Jey about the Legado Del Fantasma, but the Cartel? That’s…..news to her, to say the least. But juxtaposed to her confusion is Roman’s anger. 

Solana has to subtly tighten her grip on his arm as he moves forward, growling, “Solana is Bloodline.”

“She’s Bloodline by marriage,” Santos corrects, swiftly. “She’s Del Fantasma by blood.” 

Bayley steps forward, breaking her silence and also the pending standoff. “So basically, Solana has protection on both sides. Through family and marriage." 

It’s such a strange thing. To go from being unprotected and subjected to all kinds of horrors for years into this space where the protection is abundant. Being told she is under the protection of two of the most feared crime syndicates in this hemisphere, maybe the world, is….something, to say the least. 

“She doesn’t need your protection,” Roman cuts in, his voice steel, Solana wishing she could do more to comfort and calm him right now. “I don’t need anyone’s help to keep my wife safe.” 

Thankfully, the role of peacemaker is taken up by her tía.

Juanita speaks up. “Let us not do this right now. This is a happy occasion. I won’t have it ruined by ego and pride.” She looks between Roman and Santos. “We will have a nice, celebratory night.”

It’s the ‘celebratory’ that reminds Solana of her stipulation, if you will. “I—I’d prefer this…this stay between us.” She motions around the room, adding, “until I—I can tell Paloma.”

Bernardo nods, agreeing. “It shall remain between us, sobrina nieta.”

The term. Great niece. It warms Solana’s soul, returns the smile on her face.

Familia. 

Family.

—--------

Roman feels out of place.

Truth be told, he’s always felt a bit out of place. But, especially in this setting, because as guests arrive and as Solana socializes and speaks with what she now knows to be her family, he just sits at the table, watching and surveying. A normal thing for him, especially considering none of these people are his friends and family. 

Except then Jimmy and Naomi arrive, Naomi invited by Bayley and Jimmy naturally tagging along. And that initial exchange is awkward, but Jimmy reminds Roman that while he has his moments, he knows when to leave shit at the door.

“I know a lot is going on, but tonight ain’t about that.” Was Jimmy’s “surrender” statement of the evening. 

Before he went to go see what food he was ordering. 

Some things never change.

Regardless, Roman feels a bit better seeing Dwayne, is slightly surprised to see Ava, who’d he previously spoken to and settled his issues with regarding her interference. But, it’s when Matteo arrives with his wife and children that it really hits Roman.

Two boys and a little girl. His biological niece and nephews. And Roman hasn’t a single fucking clue how to feel about that, doesn’t know what to feel seeing the way Matteo is attentive to both his wife and kids while still maintaining that dangerous aura about him.

He smiles and even laughs with his little girl, slaps his wife’s ass, and high fives his sons all while never coming across as weak.

He balances it all so well from the outside looking in, something Roman feels at a complete loss to.

Especially as he watches his wife. Solana, kind and loving, is all smiles and laugh. Matteo’s children seem to naturally gravitate to her, same with the other children in attendance. Like Melina and Santos son. Another business man who manages to tend to his family while maintaining his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Roman can’t even think about fatherhood without feeling all fucking weird.

It’s miserable.

And, it’s not even just them, even fucking Jimmy is going around the restaurant calling people “cousin this” and “tia that.” People he met less than an hour ago. Is singing some Selena song on karaoke with Bayely and Solana even though he doesn't know a lick of Spanish and sounds like Lucille fucking Ball.

Still, he just blends. 

They all do.

Jimmy.

Matteo.

Dwayne and Ava even, striking up conversations with people.

And Roman is just…..there.

And that’s when the overthinking hits him. Is this how it’s going to be for him as a father? This emotionally unavailable person who can’t even connect with people on a basic level. Who has to rely and depend on his wife to fulfill his kids; emotional needs, cause Lord knows he can’t.

Solana even tries to get him to dance with her, comes to sit on his lap and talk with him for a few minutes. And he declines in the subtle way he must use to avoid giving off any indication of what she means to him. And she understands, he knows she does, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

Especially when he sees Matteo dancing with his wife, sees Solana playfully interacting and dancing with his biological niece. People she just fucking met and is already almost bonded with. 

Something Roman is starting to think he can never have or achieve.

Even with his own children. 

Stepping away is a bit of necessity. He needs to not be surrounded by it all, by the taunts and reminders. 

Reminders of what he can never have. 

Roman stands outside, in the back patio portion of the restaurant, leaning against the brick wall, thoughts all over the damn place. 

“I know your ass is getting old, and I’m just over the hill, but even I know all the fun is happening inside.”

Dwayne’s voice, playful and teasing, pulls Roman from his thoughts as he looks over at his cousin who sports a beer in one hand. 

Roman chuckles, looking off over the terrace. “You know this isn’t my setting.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Dwayne assesses, knowingly. He steps closer, asking, “why?”

An easy answer. “You really think I was about to let her be here by herself? Around Escobar?” 

That’s another thing sitting on and weighing on him. He’s happy Solana has discovered her family. She deserves that. He’s just unsure how he feels about Solana suddenly belonging to and, rightfully, having protection from an organization he can’t control.

He’d heard whispers that Legado Del Fantasma was rooted in the Cartel, that there were connections there, some even being through Santos father. But, the Cartel has always been notorious about keeping identities for certain factions and members a secret. Helps them keep an advantage. 

Similar to the Bloodline. 

But, hearing it confirmed is something different, and Roman is now wishing he’d have not pushed off those meetings with Cartel representatives to see about forming an alliance or something of the sort.

It sure as hell would be helpful right about now. 

Dwayne makes a face. “According to Jimmy, that’s her family though.”

At that, Roman’s gaze hardens. “What?” 

Dwayne chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “Don’t worry. He told me not to tell anyone.”

“I’m trying to figure out how the fuck he kn—” Roman stops himself, pinching his nose. It’s always something. “Yes, turns out Solana and Bayley are—”

“Cousins, right?”

Ava’s voice cuts in at the same moment Roman’s blood pressure skyrockets. 

“How the fuck do you know?” He asks, already knowing the damn answer. 

Ava shrugs, also with a beer in hand. “Jimmy.” Roman looks away, absolutely needing to count to ten to keep from killing his damn cousin. “But, don’t worry, he told me—”

“Not to tell anyone. Yeah, I know.” Roman runs his hand over his face, needing to count to ten, something Lita had brought up to help when his anger starts to rise. It sounded stupid as hell at the time but may be necessary at this moment.

 This is why he fucking hates people. 

Ava rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m only out here cause Solana asked me to check on you.”

Dwayne makes a sound. “She asked me, too.”

Hearing that somehow calms Roman a bit, reminds him of why he needs to get his shit together. For Solana. Tonight is supposed to be about and for her. She doesn’t need to be worrying about him, especially in her condition. 

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Ava and Dwayne say in sync. Roman rolls his eyes. The two of them at one time is a kind of stressor he doesn’t need right now. He appreciates them both, but he’ll always appreciate solitude more. 

Especially when he needs to think.

Especially….especially when he doesn't have Fetu to talk to any more. 

“Just thinking about shit,” is the answer Roman settles on. It’s not very telling. At all. But, it’s an answer nonetheless. 

“Well, can’t say we didn’t try.” Ava shrugs, sipping more of her beer as she lowers her voice. “Hey, what’s the update on the…..ya know?”

No. Roman doesn’t know, and he asks as such. “What?”

Ava sucks her teeth and punches him on the arm. “Don’t be a dumbass. You know what I’m talking about.” His face must indicate his continued confusion as she murmurs something in Samoan. “For Solana?”

At the same time, both Dwayne and Roman are clued in.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Dwayne says first, rolling his shoulders. “You still gotta let me know the dress code.”

“Anything but white. Duh.” Ava suddenly second guesses herself, looking over at Roman for approval. “Right?”

Roman’s answer is multifaceted. “I don’t know.” And before his annoying ass cousins can get on his ass, he clarifies. “I don’t—I don’t know if I’m still doing it.”

Both wear shocked expressions, but Dwayne is the first to comment. “The fuck you mean you’re not doing it? You have to, brother.”

Ava’s expression softens. “Roman, you know….you know it’s what Fetu would want.”

Roman looks away, knowing. Knowing that Ava is right. Fetu was so excited to attend, to be a part of it, and while her absence will kill him, he also knows his aunt would probably take a break from terrorizing people in the afterlife to haunt him if he doesn't go through with it. 

“I will. I just….I think I have to change the timeline.” 

“Change the timeline?” She shakes her head, protesting. “No. Roman, the dates you chose are literally perfect. What’s better than Christmas and Valentine's Day?”

Dwayne gestures to Ava with his thumb. “She’s right. Women love that romantic shit.”

Roman closes his eyes, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he mulls over what he’s about to say, if he should. He knows what Solana said, but something tells him she wouldn’t care in this moment. That she’d be okay with it.

Which is why he goes on and says it. 

“Solana’s pregnant.” 

A loud gasp from Ava and dropped mouth from Dwayne. “Oh my God, seriously?” Ava asks in a voice of almost awe. “Holy shit, Roman, congratulations.”

A strange sense of pride fills him at the response, a stark contrast to the confused, conflicting feelings he has towards everything else regarding this pregnancy. 

“It’s about goddamn time,” Dwayne claps him on the shoulder, pointing out, “was starting to worry you were going to fuck up our family’s reputation for being fertile as fuck.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “This coming from the man who swore off kids.”

Dwayne shrugs. “Ehh. My offspring are better served swallowed.”

Roman cracks a small smile as Ava looks utterly disgusted.

“I fucking hate men,” she spits, glare switching to something inquisitive. “How far along is she?”

“Two months,” Roman answers. Solana is closer to three months than anything, but that specific of an answer seems unnecessary. “But, I don’t—I don’t know if she’ll want to do that while pregnant.”

Ava seems to be doing the math Roman himself did when coming to his decision. “I mean, if she’s two months now, she’ll be due in May, and if you do it in February, that’ll put her at like, what, six months?” Ava shrugs. “She’ll definitely be showing, but—”

“It’s—” Roman cuts in, unsure why his voice is low, weighed down with something indistinguishable. “Twins. She’s—she’s having twins.”

Ava’s eyes double in size. “Oh shit, okay.”

Dwayne makes a low whistle sound. “Two at the same fucking time? Your ass is about to be knee deep in baby shit and piss.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ava dismisses, voice switching to something more serious again. “I can get why you’re thinking of putting it off, but honestly….I think you should still stick with the original plan and timeline. Pregnant or not, Solana is gonna love it, regardless.”

He says nothing, trying to push away the negative, doubtful thoughts. When the idea first came to him, while he was trying to figure out what to do for her birthday, he was certain of it. Certain that it would definitely be something she’d appreciate. And as he worked out the specifics, bouncing ideas off Fetu, even Ava, navigating the logistics with Dwayne, it all seemed to be coming together almost perfectly.

And then things started to fall apart and unravel, and while they’ve been working hard to put everything back together. There’s still work to be done, and progress to be made. 

A pregnancy.

That’s really the biggest thing that’s had Roman second-guessing himself. If Solana would still be as happy and appreciative if he were to do this while she’s with child, and there’s always going to be some doubt, but Ava’s words help to settle some of the indecision. 

A lot of it, actually.

“I’ll think about it,” is the answer he settles on. “You already know this shit—”

“Stays between us,” Dwayne finishes. “Well aware.” There’s a gleam in his eyes, something similar to concern. “Are you sure you’re al—”

“Hey.”

The cousins are interrupted by another voice, another person. Matteo. 

And he looks irritated.

“You might want to get in here.”

There’s something about Matteo’s expression and the almost concern in his voice that makes Roman the first to head that way, his cousins shortly behind him. 

His stride is purposeful, the Tribal Chief heading back into the restaurant where he immediately sees and knows why Matteo called for his attention.

“Son of a bitch…..”

Roman is focused solely on his wife, on the way she's almost sandwiched between Naomi, Afia, Bayley, and now Ava, all of the women watching closely as Jimmy stands in front of Jey, arms up as if trying to block him from entering farther into the restaurant. 

And it’s as Roman gets closer, he can see why Jimmy is trying to restrict his twin. 

The smell of liquor radiates off Jey’s frame. Once in the vicinity, Roman doesn’t have time to acknowledge his wife who he can feel looking at him. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Jey?” Roman’s question is calmly and coldly delivered, his fist at his side clenching and unclenching because what the fuck?

Jey’s glazed eyes fall on him as he makes a sound. “Ah,h shit, there he is, Mr. Tribal Chief himself.”

Jimmy glances at Roman. “I got this, Roman.”

“Obviously, you don’t,” Roman snaps, refocusing on Jey. “You need to leave.”

Now. Immediately. He shouldn’t even be there in the first damn place.

Jey makes a sound and snatches his arm away from Jimmy. “Man, I ain’t going nowhere. This some b–bullshit. Ya’ll tryna—tryna ice me out and shit!”

“Jey.” Roman turns to see Solana has stepped forward, Afia and Bayley both watching Roman's drunk ass cousin the whole time, as if wanting to see if he’s going to do anything. Protectively, almost. Naomi, however, just looks so frustrated with it all. Understandably so. “That’s not—”

“Oh look!” Jey’s volume increases. “It’s—it’s the queen herself! The one who—who started all this shit!” He smiles and laughs, Roman rolling his neck, sensing Matteo and Dwayne who now stand closely behind him. Also protectively. “Shit, Soso, I used to think—to think me and you was—was cool.”

“That’s enough, man,” Jimmy’s stern voice is conjoined with him once again trying to guide his brother out the restaurant. “This ain’t the time or place.”

“It certainly isn’t.” Santos joins in, Roman not missing the men that move behind him, clearly ready and waiting. He looks over at Roman, nodding, “get him out of here, or we will.”

It’s a threat. Obviously. Clearly. And Roman can’t even be upset with it. Jey coming on neutral territory trying to start some shit is unacceptable. 

Embarrassing

“I ain’t going n–nowhere—”

“The hell you aren’t.” Roman turns to see Dwayne walking past him, bypassing Jimmy as he aggressively grabs Jey by the collar of his shirt. “You’re fucking embarrassing yourself, Jey.”

Jey’s inebriation is even more evident as he goes to take a poorly aimed swing at Dwayne who easily dodges as such, instead taking the opportunity to spin Jey around and start pushing him out. “Let’s go,” he barks, Jimmy moving behind him, trying to talk some sense into his hotheaded twin.

“Man! Fuck ya’ll! I got something for all ya’ll asses!”

It’s that last sentence that makes Roman’s jaw clench. Whatever leash Jey had on his temper all these years has clearly been dropped. Roman hasn’t seen his cousin this reckless since they were in their twenties. 

But, as soon as Santos steps forward, inches away from Roman, Matteo moving to stand directly beside his brother, Roman already knows what’s about to be said. “Anything fucking happens on this territory—”

“I’ll handle it,” Roman asserts. He’s pissed, livid, and not even at the man before him. Santos is doing what anyone in that position would do. Reminding a potential enemy what potential consequences await should anyone be stupid enough to try anything.

Someone stupid like Jey.

Santos simply nods, saying something in Spanish causing his men to disperse. 

“Jey’s becoming a problem.” Matteo speaks in Italian, clearly wanting the umbrella of privacy. Roman turns to look at him. “This can’t continue.”

Roman hates being told what he already knows, but there’s something in this that makes him simply agree. “I know.”

“Roman.” He looks down to see Solana now on the other side of him, realizes she’s holding onto his arm, looking up with eyes that give away what she wants before even saying anything. “Let’s go. home”

And just like that, the anger slips into guilt. Guilt that what was supposed to be a nice night for her has turned into this shitshow. Looking around, he sees the crowd has dispersed, Naomi nowhere to be seen as Bayley and Afia talk amongst themselves. The band resumes the music, and it appears as if they’re trying to resume like nothing happened. But, something did happen, and it’s ruined whatever enjoyment Solana was having.

Fuck.

“Solana—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, voice low and almost subtle. God, he fucking hates this. “Let’s—let’s just go….please.”

It’s that last word that pulls him over. “Alright.”

She gives a small nod of appreciation and turns to walk away, clearly to tell everyone goodbye, starting with Bayley and Afia and the latter’s kids who have come hovering near their mother.

“So….” Matteo speaks again, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you going to handle this?”

Roman just looks at him and says nothing. 

He says nothing because he has no idea. 

He has no idea how he’s going to handle this. 

—----------

The drive home is mostly silent, not much conversation transpiring between husband and wife. Once in the safety of their humble abode, Solana works to get Dulce settled as Roman heads straight to the shower, eventually finding himself sitting outside, wanting, almost needing the distraction of the beautiful night sky.

But, it’s after Solana has also showered, she finds and joins him on the balcony of their master bedroom. Wordlessly, she climbs onto his lap, hands to his face, her eyes and voice pleading. “Talk to me.”

Roman closes his eyes, saying nothing, prompting her to clarify, “and don’t try to say it was the Jey situation. You….you were off before that even happened.”

“It didn’t help,” he mutters. An honest thing. Roman needs to figure something out, because Jey’s behavior tonight was unacceptable. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing to him, but more importantly, embarrassing to the Bloodline.

And as the Tribal Chief, Roman can’t have that. Thus, he needs to find a way to resolve this shitshow. And fast. 

He opens his eyes, looking directly at her. “Solana—”

“Roman.” Her voice is firmer, her gaze never leaving him. “The truth.”

It’s difficult to lie to her. Always has been. It was just what he felt he needed to do at certain points, but in this moment, in a stark contrast to prior ones, he almost doesn’t want to. He wants to get this off his chest. 

So, he does.

With a heavy sigh, Roman does his best to explain all of the many things he’s been feeling the past few weeks. “Solana, I don’t—I don’t know how to do it.”

She frowns, her thumb brushing over the apple of his bearded cheek. “Do what, baby?”

His jaw tightens. “Be a father.”

Roman sees it. Sees the way her shoulders drop, sees the sadness in her eyes. “Ro….”

“I watched you tonight. I watched how you…..you connected with everyone. Connected with the kids. It’s—natural for you.” Roman closes his eyes, the words continuing to roll out almost autonomously from this place of rare vulnerability. “You’re a good person, Solana. You—you have a heart. A big heart. You were made to be a parent. A mother. I don’t—I don’t think I was made to be—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, her voice a perfect mixture of emotion and conviction. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that, Ro.” Her eyes are watering as she gives him an emotional smile. “Roman, you have a heart, too. A big heart. You just….you’re not allowed to show it as much as I do, not in public at least, because of who you are. But, I see it all the time, I feel it all the time when we’re together.” She shakes her head, moving her hand to push back some of his hair. “I always feel so loved with and by you, and that’s exactly what our girls are going to feel.”

He swallows. “Solana—”

“What kind of father are you in your dreams?”

A valid, fair question that takes him back. Roman starts to protest, starts to push back on her, but there’s a fiery determination in her gaze that tells him doing so won’t do anything but make her push back on him even more.

He thinks about it, finally answering, almost reluctantly. “Fine.”

“Bullshit.” Another taken back expression. It feels almost wrong to hear his sweet, innocent wife curse, but she does so without hesitation. “They adore you, don’t they?” He says nothing, sensing she’s not done. “Always want to be around you, and Lina wants to be just like you, huh?”

Right away, he’s hit with flashes of scenes from the collections of dreams he’s had. Smiles. Laughter. Love. All things from two small children who are the perfect combination of himself and Solana. 

Twin girls. 

Their girls.

Catalina and Cataleya Reigns. 

But as quickly as that arrives, reality sets in.

Despite the turmoil within, his hand on the small of her back continues to rub soothing circles that do more for him than her. “Solana, those are just—they’re just dreams.”

“No.” She shakes her head, voice softening to another level. “They’re visions. Visions of our future. Of the lives we’re going to have. Of the family we’re going to have. Of the father you’re going to be.”

“I should feel something though, Solana,” he stresses. “You’re pregnant, and I don’t….I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m not upset, but I’m not….I don’t feel what you do.”

It’s a sad, almost scary, embarrassing thing to admit. To tell his wife that he doesn’t know how to feel about a pregnancy she’s ecstatic about. But, he does. Because he owes her that much.

Owes her honestly.

“That’s okay, Roman.” The surprises continue, because her response, the tone of almost sympathy, are most certainly not what he was expecting. “I know feelings are hard for you, and I know this is a new experience for you. That’s….that’s okay. What’s not okay is you thinking or even believing you can’t do this, because you can. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re going to do it together.”

Roman inhales deeply, trying his best to let her words penetrate his strong exterior. 

And then she continues to show her sainthood, continues to show just how she’s far too good for him. “Roman….” Her eyes shift downward, and so do his. Only then does he realize while one hand is on her back, the other is planted on her stomach. Her hand over his. “I’m—I’m carrying them, so I think….I think that makes that bond stronger, easier even.” Roman doesn’t say anything, but it’s impossible for him to not think about how that’s exactly what Lita had said to him.

“What if I can’t connect with them?” A quiet, almost hushed escapee from that deeply embedded box of fears he keeps tucked away. It consists of only a few things, very few, and that most definitely happens to be one of them. “If I can’t—bond with them like you?”

“You won’t bond and connect with them like I do, because I’m their mother. That relationship between mother and daughters is always going to be different from that of father and daughters. There’s something….something special about that. Something you’ll have with them that I can never have because it’s just different, but I promise you, Roman. It’ll be there, baby.” Solana shifts her body on his lap, leaning into her chest, hugging him, laying her head in the crook of his neck. Naturally, Roman holds her, kissing her temple, thankful for her words, for her support, for her belief in him, for her.

“And maybe…maybe it won’t be now.” She moves her hand up and down his chest, a comforting gesture. “Maybe it won’t really hit for you during the pregnancy, and that’s okay, because I know, the minute you hold them for the first time, it’ll click. You’ll feel it then. Feel that love.”

Love.

Once something that was unfamiliar and foreign to him, now something that overwhelms him with its depth and weight whenever he’s around this woman. And it’s that thought, that thought of how Solana managed to completely turn his life around in the best way possible that convinces him maybe, just maybe, she’s right.

“Thank you.” Another whispered thing that emanates from the deepest part of him. “Thank you, Solana.”

She makes a sound and kisses the underside of his bearded jaw. “Never have to thank me for loving you, Ro.” It’s a natural thing for her at this point. Something that feels like it was always meant to be.

They were always meant to be.

—-------

Blood. 

So much blood. 

Too much blood.

She has to save him.

Spewing, streaming, bleeding from open, gaping wounds. So many wounds, the blood saturating the dark, bulky armor that he wears. Armor that, no matter how much she tries, she can’t get off him. And she needs to get it off to treat him, to help him, to do what no one else will.

Because no one else is there.

It’s him, and it’s her, and she has to save him. 

There is no one else to do so.

But try as hard as she can, for all of her efforts, Solana’s hands and clothes continue to stain red from the blood that continues to pour out of him at an alarming rate, much quicker than anything she’s ever seen, which is how she knows there are several bullet and/or stab wounds

She has to save him. 

Her mouth opens, words of desperation and pleas tumbling out as works endlessly to treat him, begs of mercy to God, to whomever, to anyone, to hear her cries. Blood soaked hands that intermittently go to shake him, to keep him from drifting, but she knows this scene. Knows it all too well. 

Has seen it play out before.

And, it guts her.

“Stay with me, okay?” She gasps, her chest feeling like it’s about to explode at any moment. “Just—just stay, okay? You’re—you’re gonna be okay.”

He says nothing, has said nothing, just continues to lay there, rendered silent to his injuries. Injuries he’s slowly succumbing to. 

“I’m gonna s—s–ave you,” she promises, going back to trying to remove the goddamn armor for him only for it to not bulge once more. She shouts out in frustration, gasping violently, using her forearm to wipe at her eyes. The tears blurring her vision serve as a barrier she can’t afford. “It’s—Roman?” Breathing halts. Time stops. Existence ceases. “R–Ro?” A trembling hands digs through the material covering his neck to feel for his pulse, Solana immediately gasping and snatching back her hand. “N–no.” Solana shakes her head, moving to shake him. “R—Roman, wake up. Please—please wake up—” Her please of mercy are a stark contrast to the empty, vacant look in his eyes. A look she’s only seen once before on the only other day of her life where it all ended.

The day her mother was killed.

The sob escapes from the back of her throat, as she moves her body over his, still trying to shake him awake, refusing to lose him to the devastating grips of fate. “W–wake up!” Her cries echo in the void of the abyss that surrounds him. “You–you can’t leave us. W—wake up!”

“Solana!”

Solana shoots up with a violent gasp, immediately hyperventilating, eyes wide and forward and focused on nothing in general. Not at first, at least. It’s only when Roman hits the light on the nightstand and moves his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, Solana starts to come down from the shock and into the hysterics.

She moves her hands to his bare chest, feeling around, needing to feel and see for herself.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice finally registers, as she realizes he’s been trying to talk to and calm her down this entire time. “Solana—”

“It felt so real,” she cries, unable to shake the violent imagery away. “You were—” She can barely get the words out, something Roman seems against as he tries to settle, seeing how talking is even more distressing for her. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t save you.”

It’s only then he seems to understand why she’s so upset, knows the content of her dreams, “baby, I’m fi—”

“I can’t lose you,” she gasps, moving her hands to his forearms, holding him. “I can’t lose you, Roman.”

“You’re not going to, Sol,” he vows, hand cradling the back of her head. “Baby, I’m fine. Nothing is going to—”

Solana continues to shake her head, one hand dropping to her stomach. “I can’t—I can’t raise the girls without you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, expression sympathetic. “Solana, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me.” Her voice is sudden and desperate, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “Promise me nothing’s going to happen to you.”

There’s hesitation, only for a second, but not enough to draw her attention. “I promise nothing’s going to happen to me, Solana.”

Words. A sentence. But, it does something for her. Clearly and visibly decreases her spiked anxiety. Solana nods, closing her eyes and moving herself into Roman’s chest as he guides them so that they’re laying back down, her body pressed into his.

Unaware that at the same time Roman tries to comfort his wife, elsewhere across town, various notifications arrive. One a text, the other an answer. 

One of departure from one group. 

*Jey Uso has left the Operation RoSo conversation*

One informing of arrival into another.

Jey Uso: I’m in.

[crownmemes]

Workaholic Sentences

(Sentences for muses who never stop working, and those who wish they would. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"It's called work-life balance. Maybe try it sometime?"

"What is it? I'm at work."

"You've been running flat out for days! You need to go home and get some sleep!"

"Get in the car, and don't ever try to work on a date again!"

"You take your work seriously. I like that about you."

"Aren't you always saying I should work less?"

"You're always at work!"

"All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots."

"Are you working while we're in bed together?"

"You're working like you're running out of time."

"Work isn't everything, you know."

"I'm not tired. I'm just... Exhausted."

"When you didn't come home last night, I thought the worst."

"I'm too exhausted to even think straight."

"You know how it is. Work and families; one of them inevitably suffers. "

"I knew when it came down to it that you'd always want to go back to work."

"Your work is important, but so is your well-being."

"I'm concerned why you came back to work three months early."

"You've forgotten how to live outside of your work."

"Why don't you come home anymore?"

"I think you should go home, go to bed, and at least pretend to be a normal person."

"My diagnosis is exhaustion, brought on from overwork and guilt."

"I have many passions - work being first amongst them."

"Is it the ambition or fear that keeps you working around the clock?"

"Work is the best antidote to sorrow."

[transmutationisms]

As a person deemed overweight who deals with binge/restrict cycles and is getting worried abt how restriction is affecting my health, I'm considering trying to get help for my ED and wondered if you had any advice. I obviously don't trust the medical system but I really don't feel like I can keep doing this on my own. Are there any programs, groups, etc (either medical or non-medical) that you'd recommend, or any ways to mitigate harm when interfacing with the med system as a fat person?

alright i'll just level with you. i have made numerous attempts to speak to many different medical professionals (psychiatrists, GPs, therapists, other specialists) about eating disorder stuff, every single time has been an unmitigated disaster, & i refuse to do it anymore. i have never in my life spoken to a single medical professional who does not believe some or all of the following:

that i should only weight-restore to [number] or [body fat percentage], & no further

that my restrictive eating & compensatory exercise are 'healthy habits' that i personally have simply 'taken too far'

—in other words, that i should continue to be anorexic, only not as severely as i have done before. this is not helpful advice and it is not 'harm reduction'; it is the same logic as the anorexia, only with a slightly different aesthetic standard to aspire to. if i'm going to continue to be anorexic anyway, i don't see how it's preferable to do so with the assistance of a state-funded ana coach rather than just taking care of it on my own damn time. certainly this way i am at much less risk of institutionalisation.

i have multiple serious health problems as a direct result of past & ongoing restrictive eating, and i do continue to seek medical attention for those issues as needed. but i absolutely do not tell doctors where these problems are coming from, and no doctor has ever pieced it together on their own, because this would require them to have any opinion on thinness besides approval. this has been my consistent experience at varying body weights & stages of acute unwellness.

my experiences are not universal, & i am positive someone on this psychiatry hellsite is about to jump in and tell you there are 'good ones' out there and that you simply need to try harder than me to find them. obviously what you do is up to you. my advice would just be that if you are going to seek external support for an eating disorder—whether from a hospital, therapist, peer group, or anything else—you should

familiarise yourself with your jurisdiction's laws on mandatory reporting, institutionalisation, and involuntary psych holds before you ever open your mouth about any ongoing behaviours, and

run, do not walk, from any group or program that purports to treat 'obesity' or 'overeating', or offers weight-loss counselling, in addition to or as part of its eating disorder services.

if you are interested in online resources, gwyneth olwyn's 'recover from eating disorders: homeodynamic recovery method, a step-by-step guide' is essentially a guide for how adults can DIY replicate the refeeding process that the minnie-maud method relies on family intervention to enforce. olwyn has more writing & info available at edinstitute.org. there's also the ellyn satter institute (ellynsatterinstitute.org), which is aimed at parents of eating-disordered children but which you can pretty much repurpose for your own needs as an adult. jennifer gaudiani's book 'sick enough' is at least helpful for understanding some of the medical issues you may be dealing with, though she's very pro-professional treatment and the book doesn't really give advice on how to deal with your own eating disorder yourself, or on how to find competent professionals besides herself (laughably financially inaccessible). groups or professionals that name these people or use their work may be better informed on EDs than the average, although frankly this has not really been my experience in practice.

i'm sorry this is not terribly helpful & i hope you find what you need in whatever form you can 💜

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #4: Besties

It’s later in the afternoon. The cake has been cut, presents have been opened, and now everyone is just mingling. The sun is starting to set and Chantal and I are chilling on a bench, too stuffed to move after filling up on chocolate cake and ice cream.

As we chat, I spot Glynnis and Hollis walking towards their apartment and give them a wave. I thought they might stop by and chat, but they seem busy. Chantal sees who I’m waving to and lets out a small gasp.

“Oh my God!” She cups a hand over her mouth. “That’s Hollis Abernathy!”

“Yeah, she’s my neighbor. Do you follow her on Simsta?”

“Yeah, but that’s not where I know her from. Her parents own a bunch of businesses in San Myshuno. She’s the heiress to a huge fortune–or at least she was. Here, look.”

She pulls up a gossip site on her phone and hands it over to me. I see an article from a couple of years ago with a picture of Hollis stumbling out of a club. Plastered in big, bold letters at the top of the page is the headline, "HOLLIS'S WILD NIGHT OUT."

I get a few lines into the article before I start feeling like I’m invading Hollis’s privacy. Besides, I’m not going to judge her off of what some tabloid said about her 2 years ago. People change; I know that as well as anyone. 

“Okay, so what?” I ask.

“Nothing, I’m just surprised to see her here is all.” 

I shrug. “She seems pretty nice. I’m gonna go mingle some more before people start leaving,” I say, and I start to wander around. 

I see my dads are talking to Paul and Lucy, and they’re all laughing.

“Looks like you’re all getting along.”

“Why didn’t you tell us your roommate is such a comedian?” Pops asks. Paul beams at the compliment.

“Yeah, you should have heard the joke he just told us,” Dad chimes in. “You’d love it. What was it again? Something about a stick,” he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard that one,” I say. “Paul’s always joking around.”

“No wonder you two get along, then,” Pops replies.

“I’m glad for that,” Lucy adds. “I figured you would, but it would’ve been awkward if my brother and my work bestie didn’t like each other.”

“Oh, I’m your work bestie, huh? Not just your bestie. I see how it is.”

“You’re totally her bestie,” Paul interjects. “Trust me, I know these things.”

“Oh, come on, you know what I meant,” Lucy tells me. “I blame it on my pregnancy brain.”

“What, you’re pregnant? And you didn’t tell me? Some bestie you are!”

“I didn’t? I thought I did. Anyway, isn’t it obvious, what with how much I've been throwing up and how big my belly's getting?”

“I have four sisters,” I point out. “I know better than to make an assumption about a woman’s body like that.”

“And that’s why you’re my bestie.”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Transcript of article below:

HOLLIS'S WILD NIGHT OUT

08/17/2021 08:00 AM PST

Hollis Abernathy caused quite the scene on a wild night out celebrating singer Christina Dotson’s 18th birthday! Did someone forget to tell her that the drinking age is 18 in Del Sol? The blonde beauty was spotted downing drinks all night–despite only being 17-years-old.

Hollis’s parents, business-moguls Robert and Bianca, plan to give her access to a large trust fund on her own 18th birthday next year; however, friends of the socialite report that her recent antics are putting that plan in jeopardy.

“Her parents have had enough,” a source tells us. “They don’t like all of the negative attention her partying is putting on the family. They’re worried about how it will affect their reputation, especially with the Carlisles.”

Hollis has been dating 17-year-old Hunter Carlisle for several months, a relationship that was likely orchestrated by the pair’s parents who are reported to have a lucrative business venture in development. At first, Hollis and Hunter seemed like a match made in heaven, but things have quickly become hellish for the couple.

“Hollis and Hunter got into a huge fight at the party,” our source tells us. They were screaming in the middle of the club. People are saying they broke up. Christina was so embarrassed.”

Hollis’s wild night didn’t end there. Moments after her fight with Hunter, our photogs caught her making out with an unknown blonde woman. Could Hollis’s sexuality be the reason for her troubles with Hunter?

The kiss was cut short when Christina and their friend Mikayla “Micki” Davison dragged Hollis away from her would-be lover. Hollis could barely stand as Christina helped her into Micki’s convertible. Once seated inside, Hollis began yelling obscenities at our photogs, to the dismay of her friends.

“I’m not sure if Hollis is interested in girls or not, or if she just wanted to make Hunter mad,” our source said. “But she seemed pretty into the kiss.”

“You ruined my birthday!” Christina was heard sobbing from the back seat.

SMZ reached out to Hollis’s rep who simply said, “No comment.”

[kathlare]

words in the noise

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Elysia confronts Lando about his past with her sister Amelie.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 19th, 2023 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Elysia stood near the edge of the crowded Monaco club, a glass of champagne in hand, her eyes scanning the room. The afterparty had gotten wilder since she’d arrived, the music thumping louder, the crowd growing drunker with every passing second. She wasn’t even supposed to be here—at least, not at this time. Her sister Amelie had been working non-stop, and Joe had been away too, so it was just her and a few friends, letting off steam after the event. A much-needed break. Still, something was off tonight, a restless energy buzzing through her veins.

Her gaze flicked from one group to another, the flashing lights and chatter blurring together as she absently tapped the side of her glass. That’s when she saw him. That little fucking shit.

Lando Norris.

She knew him well enough from the few times they’d crossed paths at family gatherings, events, and of course, the numerous times Amelie had brought him up. A part of her knew the history. The flirtations. The complications. The broken hearts. The stuff that no one in their right mind would talk about out loud—except for Elysia, who was already a bit tipsy and feeling braver than usual.

Elysia stood near the edge of the crowded Monaco club, a glass of champagne in hand, her eyes scanning the room. The afterparty had gotten wilder since she’d arrived, the music thumping louder, the crowd growing drunker with every passing second. She wasn’t even supposed to be here—at least, not at this time. Her sister Amelie had been working non-stop, and Checo had been away too, so it was just her and a few friends, letting off steam after the event. A much-needed break. Still, something was off tonight, a restless energy buzzing through her veins.

Her gaze flicked from one group to another, the flashing lights and chatter blurring together as she absently tapped the side of her glass. That’s when she saw him. That little fucking shit.

Lando Norris.

She knew him well enough from the few times they’d crossed paths at family gatherings, events, and of course, the numerous times Amelie had brought him up. A part of her knew the history. The flirtations. The complications. The broken hearts. The stuff that no one in their right mind would talk about out loud—except for Elysia, who was already a bit tipsy and feeling braver than usual.

He immediately pushed the girl away, awkwardly fumbling for an excuse as he took a few steps toward Elysia. His face was a little flushed, the alcohol clearly doing its work, but he was trying to play it cool. Too cool, maybe.

Elysia didn’t make it easy. She didn’t move from her spot, her stance stiff, her eyes still locked on him. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an easy conversation.

—Didn’t expect to see you here,— Lando said, his voice louder than usual, like he was trying to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

Elysia barely spared a glance at the girl, who was now distracted by another guy on the dance floor, before she took a sip of her drink and looked back at Lando. —Should I even be surprised, Norris? Or are you always like this?— she shot back, her tone biting.

Lando’s face shifted just slightly, his confidence slipping. —Like what?— he asked, narrowing his eyes. —I’m just having fun.—

—Oh, right,— Elysia muttered, rolling her eyes. —Fun. That’s what you call it? Just like you had fun with my sister, right?— Her voice was sharp, each word punctuated with the alcohol sloshing through her veins, making her braver than usual. —Fun while she was too busy working her ass off to even look at you.—

Lando’s expression faltered, and for a moment, Elysia saw the hint of something flicker in his eyes—guilt, maybe? He quickly masked it with a smirk, but it wasn’t as confident as usual. He took a step forward, attempting to close the distance between them, but Elysia wasn’t having it.

—You know, it’s kind of funny,— Elysia continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she leaned back against the bar, folding her arms. —How you just keep hopping from one girl to the next, never really giving a shit about anyone, just like you did with Amelie. But hey, you must be really good at convincing them you’re all-in. Too bad you didn’t give a damn when she needed you. Did you even care about her? Or was she just another distraction?—

Lando’s face hardened, his jaw tightening as his eyes shot daggers at her. —You don’t know what you’re talking about, Elysia,— he muttered, his voice lowering slightly, but there was still a fire behind it. —You think you know everything, but you don’t.—

Elysia chuckled darkly, her head tilting slightly. —Oh, I know enough. You’re just another player in the game, Norris. And trust me, it’s not the first time someone’s gotten hurt by you.—

Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tightening again, but instead of speaking, he just took a step back, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his lips. —You’re just as much of a pain in the ass as your sister, you know that?—

Elysia laughed, her laugh loud and unapologetic as she shook her head. —Oh, I get it, I’m just like her? That’s rich, considering how much you clearly fucked her over, don’t you think? And now you’re just running from one distraction to another because it’s easier than dealing with your own shit. You’ve got no spine to deal with anything real, do you?—

Lando’s face twisted, the mask of confidence completely cracking. He wasn’t prepared for this kind of conversation, especially not in front of an audience, even if they were in their own little bubble in the corner of the room. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it, clenching his jaw so tightly it looked like his teeth might crack under the pressure.

—Fuck off, Elysia,— he muttered, a defeated edge to his voice now, the playful demeanor completely gone. —You don’t know shit. I didn’t ask for your opinion, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for your sister to come into my life just to fuck everything up. You think I don’t know what I’ve done? But don’t pretend like I didn’t care about her. You don’t get to judge me, not like this, not without knowing the whole fucking story. You have no idea—

—You’re right. I don’t know the whole story, but I do know one thing, Norris,— Elysia interrupted, her voice sharp and unforgiving. —You’re a fucking mess. And you ruined my sister, in a way that I don’t think anyone could ever fix. She’s too busy trying to be perfect for everyone else while people like you get away with treating her like shit. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And I’ll make sure she knows that, too. You’ll regret it one day. Hell, you probably already do, even if you won’t admit it.—

There was silence between them then. A thick, tense silence, the kind that felt like it could snap at any second. Elysia felt a surge of triumph and anger all at once, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was pissed. At him. At the situation. At everything. And it felt good to finally say it out loud, even if it was in a Monaco club, surrounded by drunk strangers and flashing lights.

Lando’s eyes narrowed again, but this time, there was something different in them. It wasn’t the cocky challenge she was used to. It was something softer, maybe even regretful.

—You don’t know shit about me, Elysia,— he repeated, his voice hoarse now. —But fine, keep pretending you’ve got it all figured out. Pretend I’m the villain. But don’t think for one second that I don’t know the consequences of my actions. I’ve fucked up. But it’s not like anyone else is here to point that out, is it?—

Elysia was silent for a moment, her eyes scanning his face. There was a flash of vulnerability behind those guarded eyes, a crack in the armor that he’d put up over the years. She almost felt sorry for him, but then the bitterness crept in again, reminding her of everything that had gone wrong. Everything he had done.

—You’re not the first person to fuck up, Lando,— she said coldly. —But you’re the first one to walk away like nothing matters. I hope you know that. One day, you’ll realize how alone you really are, and then maybe, just maybe, you’ll remember what it felt like when Amelie actually gave a damn. If you haven’t already forgotten, that is. I’m sure you’ve got a bunch of girls around to help you forget by now. Maybe they’ll remind you of her too. But it doesn’t matter. I’m done talking about this with you. You’re not worth it.—

With that, Elysia turned on her heel, her boots clicking sharply against the floor as she walked away, not sparing him another glance. Behind her, Lando stood frozen, watching her retreating figure, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. The noise of the club felt deafening in comparison to the silence that now stretched between them, the unresolved tension hanging in the air.

As Elysia made her way through the crowd, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, even if it was bittersweet. She had said what needed to be said, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t give a damn about what Lando thought of her.

Amelie deserved better than him. And that was the only thing that mattered.

[olorinscombatboots]

JUST ABSOLUTELY GUT ME ON A PERFECTLY PEACEFUL MORNING WHY DONT U???

celegorm has always pretty decidedly been my least favorite fëanorian (re: lúthien) so much so that i kind of define him by that. which i realize is a bit hypocritical because i will defend maedhros and maglor and fëanor with my life despite their many crimes, because of their grief and desperation and who they were outside of those crimes.

but now u got me thinking about celegorm... and how the same grief and desperation would apply to him too. if the kinslayings aren't the first thing i think of when it comes to the rest of the fëanorians, if i can see logically how they were broken down and driven to that point in spite of being, from my perspective, whole and genuine people before all that, how can i turn around and look at tyelko and say "ah yes, the bitch who kidnapped lúthien, what a complete snake he must have been" and give him Zero further thought??

cause yeah, kidnapping lúthien is a snake move, just like kinslaying is actually super fucked up. but if the fëanorians weren't always fucked up kinslayers, tyelko wasn't always a lúthien-kidnapping snake, he had to have somehow fallen to that point.

of Course tyelko was something before lúthien. of Course he was full of life and love like the rest of his family, and had it leeched out of him by the pain of the oath and the guilt of what it had Already made him do.

he was basically joined at the hip with curvo. he used to be an honored follower of oromë. he was originally on great terms with finrod, showing friendship to him in every need, a friendship that was only broken because of that motherfucking oath. the lúthien thing is Icky, but how much of it had genuinely icky motivations, and how much was motivated by the political advantage she could give him, an advantage that might help him finally, finally fulfill the oath. tyelko and curvo only get Really Ridiculous in their later encounter with beren and lúthien, after they had lost finrod and tyelpe refused to leave nargothrond with them. if i can say "yeah fëanors grief for finwë obviously put him in a volatile mental state and would somewhat explain the oath and the first kinslaying" then i should also acknowledge that tyelko and curvo were in an At Least Equally volatile mental state by this point, after losing finrod and tyelpe and any hope of help from nargothrond OR doriath. and the result of the lúthien situation being tyelko's loss of huan, his last connection to oromë, had to have fucked him up even more, made him double down, re: "im gonna kill thingol if its the last thing i do" and the second kinslaying.

but tyelko was more than that, in the beginning, just like the rest of his family. and, just like his family, he was motivated by a sick twisting of his love and loyalty. it actually hurts me now to think of him dying at dior's hand, and i wonder if as he died he felt the same horror and grief maedhros and maglor would feel when the silmarils burned their hands.

my deepest and sincerest apologies to turcafinwë tyelkormo fëanorion. you were never as damned as i thought you were.

Celegorm Headcanons because he interests me

He's never had a plan ever, he's pure impulse and instinct which leads to most of the problems he's had.

He and Aredhel were good friends in Valinor, he taught her how to shoot, she taught him about horses. they had a treehouse they built together that supposedly no one else knew about (both of their mothers visit it when they start to miss them too much)

He was a leash kid, Fëanor tried the whole we aren't putting my child on a leash speech, but it became pretty clear it was the only way to keep track of him in a crowd.

He raised tadpoles, bunnies, little birds, anything that he felt had been abandoned by it's caretaker, he raised them with a patience and a tenderness otherwise out of character.

He met Orome when he was ten, he'd wandered out into the forest and been lost there for three days, the Vala had handed him a bow and placed him on the back of a massive hound. when the search party had returned exhausted and defeated, they had found the little boy fast asleep curled around the bow the way another child might cuddle a toy, his head cushioned on an equally asleep absolutely giant dog.

He kept Maglor moving when he was regent, he had neither the patience or sympathy to let him drown, he needed to stay alive, their people needed to stay alive, they had no room for grief or failure.

After the oath the place in his heart that had once served Oromë became a hole, it grew and grew, until it completely consumed him, all of his brothers felt the loss of the connection to the Valar overtime but he felt it first, it drove him mad first.

Maedhros didn't let him out of his reach after Luthien, everything he did was monitored everything he said reported, this the confinement, being back on a leash pushed him over the edge.

He's actually awful at swordsmanship, every bit as bad with a sword as he is good with a bow and arrow, he can never figure out where to put his feet.

He was still alive when Maedhros found him after Doriath, he told him the about his people taking Elured and Elurin with his last breath. Maedhros held him a little longer than he should've given the situation (Maglor sat with him until long past him going fully cold)

[orieriee]

Chapter 4 ✦ Light or Darkness?

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Sypnosis: Y/N L/N is a special shaman from a jujutsu family. Y/N was sent to Tokyo to go on missions to prove their worth as the next heir. With the ability of 'flow', a cursed technique that allows its user to see and manipulate forces of energy freely. Y/N stumbled across Geto Suguru amidst a dark aura, carrying a weight of chaotic and dark energy. Will Y/N be able to help Geto overcome his turmoil? Will Y/N fulfill the lifelong anticipation and succeed in becoming the next heir?

Time setting: 2007, a year after Amanai Riko's death, before Geto Suguru's breaking point. gn!reader. I use they/them pronounce for neutrality.

Disclaimer: This will be a slight crossover with chainsaw man because I needed a mentor figure who is not known in Jujutsu Kaisen. I do not own any of the characters from Jujutsu Kaisen or Chainsaw Man. The characters belong to Gege Akutami as the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen and Tatsuki Fujimoto as the creator of Chainsaw Man. I only own the story plot of this work of fiction. I will also mix in a written story for the plot so it's not just the SMAU story. Also english isn't my first language so excuse any grammar errors in the story (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

"Good morning." the morning of your mission, you were waiting for Geto in front of the train station, "Ready to depart?"

"Why are you wearing... Such clothes?" Geto looked perplexed at your traditional yet fancy attire. Let's say it's similar as Geto wearing a Gojo-kesa in jjk but it's more inspired by Inuyasha's clothing with modification. Such attire would attract attention in the modern day of jujutsu kaisen.

"It looks more convincing that I'm a traveling monk-shaman, does it not?" you beamed, shaking your staff a bit to show off the ringing sound of the bells.

"At least the villagers will be convinced." Geto sighed.

"By the way, here's your sweets. I got a few types of candies that are popular in the area of my mission." you handed him a bag of sweets and patted him on the back, "Well then, let's go."

Amidst the hurried footsteps of the train station, Geto found myself lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Depressing thoughts clawed at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to consume him. He's on the brink of darkness, his moral compass has wavered, slowly carrying a malicious intent towards non-sorcerers little by little.

The sound of the train rumbled in the background but you can only notice the silence coming from Geto as you rambled on little things about your previous mission.

"Geto, are you listening?" you realized his gaze wasn't right the whole ride, seemingly just out of it. Just like the time when you two first met at the train on the way back to Tokyo.

"Hm? Yeah what was it again?" he gave a masked smile.

You weren't convinced. With your cursed energy's ability, flow, you are able to sense people's state of cursed energy. Whether they're stable or unstable. And right now, even though Geto smiled, his energy is screaming in agony.

With a soft smile, you reached out a hand. "You don't have to pretend with me," you speak softly. "It's clear to me that your mind is in turmoil. I won't pester you to tell, but you don't have to face your demons alone.".

"... You can tell?" Geto was a bit surprised that you could read his mood, "Well, you did say you can read people like an open book."

"I've been wondering about my existence and goals a lot." Geto opened up a little, "Going on a mission like this, all seemed like a symptomatic treatment rather than a causal treatment to terminate all cursed spirits."

"That's why you've been thinking about creating a world where cursed spirits doesn't exist, right?" you connected the dots.

"... Yes. Sorcerers should be able to live without fear of cursed spirits like non-sorcerers. But all we do is clean up after their mess." he acknowledged his twisted mindset, "It would be better if all non-sorcerers are gone so we wouldn't need to suffer loss."

"..." you looked down at your feet, trying to understand such mindset of someone who's slowly spiraling down the path of evil.

"Say, Geto. Why did you become a sorcerer in the first place?" you asked, curious about the reason why he joined jujutsu high.

"... The strong must protect the weak. Though now I don't know." he admitted with a nonchalant look on his face.

"So in your mind, you think of sorcerers as the strong ones and non-sorcerers are the weak?" you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, finding the idea a bit absurd.

"We simply exist to eliminate curses caused by non-sorcerers and protect them." Geto went poker-faced as he admitted it.

"Then, let me ask you this. Which one is stronger, light or darkness?" you questioned, leaving him a bit dumbfounded by the sudden random question.

"Well, it might depend on the scenario." Geto took a moment to answer the question.

Your smile slipped as his answered succeeded your expectation.

"Right? Just as darkness may seem capable of engulfing a single light, so too can a bright light illuminate even the darkest depths of darkness." you quoted, "But light and dark exist to create balance. Light without darkness would be blinding, overwhelming in its brilliance. Darkness without light would be oppressive, suffocating in its obscurity."

"You understand my analogy, don't you?" you smiled at him. Geto's face expression relaxed a little, trying seemingly understanding the conveyed message.

"Well, I don't know what you've been through but like you said, if the strong must protect the weak, then when you choose to become the strong one then you have chosen to help people in need. You chose to become a jujutsu sorcerer in the end." you reassured him, "You could've chosen to be the 'weak' and turn your backs on the jujutsu world. There are many of those with the ability to become a jujutsu sorcerer but chose to be regular people instead, kid. But you didn't. And you're not alone in this." you gave him a reassuring pat on the back/the head.

"Aren't you about the same age as me?" Geto smiled softly as he finds it funny that you talk like an elderly.

"You may be a special grade sorcerer. But you're still young. Don't shoulder too much burden, it'll only make you look old faster." you laughed, helping Geto to get into a better mood.

"... Somehow I feel a bit better when I'm with you." Geto whispered in a low tone voice that you can only catch a little.

But his cursed energy flow is getting more stable so it's good to know that his mind is more at ease now.

© published on 14/01/24 by orieriee

written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

[jejebean]

In a Crowd of Thousands

Gojo x F!Reader || A Bridgerton / Regency Era AU ♔

Inspired by this song from Anastasia

A displaced princess taking refuge in a foreign land, and a Duke with manners unbefitting his station. While one of you cannot afford to tempt scandal, the other relishes it. Your paths crossed on a fated Summer's day long ago. Forgotten in the whirlwind of time, yet haunted, by your smile, by his eyes.

Content Warning: Reader's traumatic past, anxiety, unhealthy coping mechanism, Gojo's rakish behaviour.

Prologue | Chapter 01 | Chapter 02

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Gojo’s POV

The morning light peers through the window of the Gojo manor, ushering in a new day as the servants methodically revert the great house to its usual state. The house itself has seen many grand balls during its time. And Oh, if the walls can speak, the stories they could tell. The young master is not the first wayward noble to walk its grounds, but certainly one of the most intriguing. The statues in the garden are the silent witnesses of his nighttime audience, but the paintings in his study will attest to his solemn grace as he contemplates last night’s soiree.

The morning has always been a quiet affair in the household. Just the Duke and his mother breaking their fast in relative peace.

“So, tell me more about the young lady.”

The sudden question nearly causes the young Duke Gojo to spit out his tea.

“What-” He coughs, “which young lady?”

“The young lady from house Kamo, of course.” She quirks an eyebrow inquisitively, “or is there another one I should know about?”

“No, mother. Of course not.”

For a moment, Satoru had thought that his mother was somehow privy to his rendezvous last night with the soprano from the new opera house. Of course not, you have kept his secret.

“She’s fine, I suppose, just like any young lady.”

“Fine. I would have guessed that she was more than just ‘fine’, the way you practically dragged her to the dance floor.”

“Well, I did promise you I would dance.”

“Is that really all there is to it, I wonder?” She sips her tea “You two would make a handsome couple indeed.”

Satoru scowls at the prospect.

“You know better than to say that, dear mother. You know me. I would never accept anyone you shove my way.” He pauses. “It’s just not in my nature.”

“Your stubbornness is no longer endearing at your age, Satoru. Especially after you ascended to the dukedom.”

“You wound me so, dear Mama.” He put both hands up to his chest, matching the dramatic flair in his playful tone.

“Though I must say, the Earl Kamo must want her to be married off as soon as possible and out of his hair.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, for a start, they’re letting her wear the family heirloom blood ruby. Which I bet signals to all present suitors that the lady comes with a significant dowry.”

“I suppose that will make her all the more desirable, but I can’t see how it is a mark against the girl.”

“It is when you consider during the entire time we danced, she did not smile even once!” The Duke, ever the pompous man that he is, is clearly bothered by the fact that his charm does not work on you. A young lady who should, by all right be swooning for him.

“Is that so?”

“Lovely face, I must admit. But what a terrible countenance! No wonder the Earl wants her out as soon as possible. Can’t have someone like that darken the drawing room day in and day out.”

The Duke, The Rake, The Drama Queen.

His mother is, however, used to his theatrics. She knows the bigger the show he puts on, the further it is from the truth. Gojo Satoru is many things. But underneath all that smoke and mirrors, he is that same little boy, waiting for a chance to see the princess’s smile once more. Oh, his mother is familiar with his old infatuation, but she knows too well that pride is his undoing. He must find his path on his own…maybe with a little nudging.

“Well, you said she was ‘fine’. If you want to lie, dear boy. At least keep it consistent.”

The young duke sputters.

‘Maybe more than a little nudge.’

… 

Your POV

“Say, Nobara. What do you know about the Duke Gojo?”

“I’ve heard that he took after his father, the late Duke, my lady.” Your lady’s maid, snickers. She has always been frank to a fault, with a sharp wit to match. Aside from Choso, she’s the one person you trust most.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, the late Duke was an absolute rake!” She says as she braids the pale satin ribbon to your hair expertly, there is a glint of mischief in her eyes. The young maid loves nothing more than to share her insight on the ton’s most recent gossip. “And I heard that the current duke is more or less the same.”

“I must say I’m not surprised.” You sigh.

Those blue eyes. Probably one of the bastards of the late Duke.

“Quiet a pity isn’t it, my lady? I’ve heard that the Duke is rather handsome.”

“I suppose he is.” You smile, remembering the man you danced with just the night before. Were it not for the unfortunate encounter before the dance, would you have fallen for his charm like all the other young ladies? Perhaps. But without it, you suspect that he would never have spared you a single thought let alone a dance.

“All done, my lady!‘

In the mirror, you see a young lady staring back at you with all the poise and grace in the world. You are wearing a soft-colored gown that complements your complexion, with hair ribbons to match. Nobara looks on proudly at her handy work with a victorious grin.

“I bet the whole ton will be lining up towards our drawing room today!”

“You’re too good to me, Nobara.”

You smile as she curtsies and proceeds to go on her daily duties. She’s so excited to be proper lady’s maid now that you’re ‘out’. You don’t have the heart to tell her that you’re very much dreading the gentleman callers that might just appear out of the blue.

“The whole ton lining up to our drawing room.” You shudder, “what a nightmare.”

You take one deep breath as you steel yourself for a day of endless smiling and inane conversations.

…

As the last of the callers left, you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your back hit the plush cushion of the drawing room chaise lounge. Very unladylike, but right now, it’s the least of your concerns. You close your eyes and stretch. You feel a dip on the seat next to you followed by a groan. You don’t even need to open your eyes to know that it’s your dear cousin, who has finally emerged from his study.

“Good afternoon, Choso.”

“Heavens, spare me…”

“Spare us both.” You sigh, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“You want to swap?” He asks.

“What, me brooding in the study and you simpering in corsets?”

The mere thought of it lifts your spirits. “I’d like to see you try!” You laugh.

“Best not. You won’t be able to cope, little duck.”

“What, you think I’m not clever enough to understand your estate papers?”

“No, not that. You won’t be able to compete with me in corset.”

The drawing room fills with laughter. Though it was only a momentary respite as the dowager countess started to hurry you both along for tonight’s engagements.

“Are we expected somewhere?” You question, as you could have sworn that you have a free evening tonight.

“Ah yes, I have just received a note to attend the opera tonight.” Lady Kamo sounds excited. It cheers you to see the light returning to her gentle eyes this season. She reminds you of her sister, your dear late grandmama.

“And that is my cue to leave.” Choso starts to head towards his study.

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” She scolds. But alas, the Earl can be quick on his feet and is already so far down the hallway he can feign ignorance.

Lady Kamo signs, helpless in chasing down her grandson, has her attention trained back at you.

“Now, my dear. You must make haste!”

…

Your bewilderment is mirrored in the depth of the sapphire pair.

You and Lady Kamo’s invites to the opera are in fact, courtesy of the Dowager Duchess Gojo. You and the Duke, both evidently kept in the dark, are rendered speechless by the arrangement. Escorted by an increasingly tense Duke to their box, you curse your cousin for abandoning you yet again. You have half a mind of swapping out your corset for his estate papers if you survive the evening.

As the two ladies start catching up on society gossip, it is apparent that they have not come to the opera for the new soprano. You are seated next to the Duke in awkward silence. You pray that the show will start so that you’ll have something to fix your attention to. For now, you have only the small opera pamphlet to keep you from having to make small talk.

“This is all my mother’s doing, I must say. I have no part in dragging you into her schemes. Nor do I wish to.”

Your head turned to a somewhat sheepish-looking Gojo, eyes avoiding yours.

“I see, Your Grace.” A lull of silence. “Though I suppose, it could be a coincidence. The ladies seem to be great friends.”

The Duke seemingly considering the notion, shrugs.

The play begins with a beautiful aria by the opera’s leading soprano, singing of long-forgotten love. ‘A rather melodramatic theme for the night. The Duke must not be very pleased.’, you thought to yourself. You look to the stage, enchanted by the beauty of the lady belting out impossible notes, tugging at your heart. Would you ever come to know the love she sings about? With how rare a love match is in high society, romances only belong on stage and in the pages of novels.

“Do you enjoy the opera, Your Grace?” You couldn’t help but ask.

He scoffs at your question. “Not at all. It is all the same; loudly sung in a foreign tongue.”

You dared to glance at him for his sharp comment, expecting a man out of his element. But his expression betrayed his biting words. His eyes soften to the tune, as if he was completely transported by the plight of the heroine. You choose to refrain from teasing him. Instead, you are content to observe the side of the Duke that has proved contrary to your assumption.

Maybe this evening is not as bad as it seems after all.

You follow the Duke’s lead and immerse yourself in the music. The rich vibrato, the heavenly chorus, the sweet lilting voice of the beautiful soprano—Like the one in the garden. 

Your neck snaps towards one Gojo Satoru instinctively.

‘Is this why he enjoys the opera so much?’

Noticing your gaze, the Duke finally turns to meet your eyes.

“It was her, wasn’t it?” You ask, barely a whisper. Though you’re certain that the Duke has heard you clearly, as the colors drain from his face, mouth agape.

In a moment of surprise, you allowed yourself to act on impulse. It was not your intention to make the Duke feel ill at ease, especially not as a guest in his family’s box.

You lean towards the poor man, trying to calm his nerves.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I forget myself.” 

You detect a small nod from the Duke. Afraid of making the situation worse, you leave him at that. Silently berating yourself for your faux pas.

There is something about the Duke that set your nerves on edge, leading you to make missteps after missteps. ‘You have trained your whole for this!’ Years of lessons on social graces and mannerisms. How to act, how to speak, how to think. And yet, in the presence of Gojo Satoru, all of your defenses shatter. The impulsivity you’ve learned to suppress, the sharp tongue you’ve learned to hold.

‘No, it is unfair to blame your own deficiency on him.’

But those eyes. Those damn eyes.

The curtain falls on the evening, replaced with the soft velvet of your drawing room. Last night’s blunder keeps on repeating in your mind. You sit by the windowsill watching the raindrops racing down the glass pane, absently tracing them with your fingertips. You thank the heavens for the downpour, as it gives you a chance to collect your thoughts without having to put on a pleasant smile. 

Imprisoned in your own thought, you’ve missed the footman’s announcement that a gentleman has come to call on you.

══════════════════

Thank you for reading!

A/N: This one is a short one. After taking so long…Aaahhh I’m sorry!

See you in the next one! ♡

.

Taglist: @sonotpattismith @byakuya61085 @averyjadedemerald

[alpaca-clouds]

My Predictions for Nocturne Season 2

Alright, I have promised to do some predictions for Nocturne season 2 - mainly just for the hell of it. And because some people have asked me about it. So, I am trying to make my predictions.

I will do these per character, rather than going on about general plot points.

It should be noted in general, that since Powerhouse has so far not gotten Green Light for season 3 of Nocturne, I am assuming that they will try to end the Erszebeth plotline within season 2, as I am thinking they will try to not have the show potentially be cancelled on a cliffhanger. (Yes, I have maybe too much trust? xD)

Alright. Let's get me started.

Also: I originally wrote this before yesterday's trailer dropped. But I reworked it a little.

Richter Belmont

With Richter it is going to be assumed, that he will have a more classical hero's journey. I will once again iterate: My reading of Nocturne is, that the show will very much take this idea of a "divine bloodline". Annette is a descendant of Ogun, and I am fairly certain there will be a point being made out of both Maria (more about her a bit later) and Richter and in extension the entire Belmont family, also descending from a god. I am not sure which one. I am personally assuming that it will be some Celtic god, that is supposed to be forgotten. I am not sure if they will name a specific name - but I am fairly sure that this is going to be a point that is going to be revealed somehow.

Other than this, I am assuming his relationship with Annette will further develop. I am going to assume he will learn to connect to the place of the ancestors through her, because to me this would make a lot of sense.

From the second trailer I assume that there will be at least two episodes in which he will be alone with Alucard and Annette. Probably to show a couple of different aspects of him, given that for season 1 he mainly interacted with others only while Maria was there. So him getting away from Maria will also help to show him from a different perspective.

I am also somewhat expecting his story to get a bit darker, as I am expecting that if they get another season, they might go into a Richter corruption arc, like it happens in Symphony of the Night. In SotN this obviously comes a bit out of nowhere - and I am assuming the show will set this up a bit more. Especially as I am not going to guess he is fully possessed by Shaft or something. But either way, I am going to assume there will be some groundwork laid, but the season ain't gonna end with an already corrupted Richter. It will just be posed as a possibility before the end of the series.

Maria Renard

Alright, with Maria there is definitely more interesting stuff going on based on the second trailer especially. We saw her use a very differnt form of magic from what we have seen in season 1. While in season 1 her magic is very light and predominated by round forms, in season 2 we see dark magic with edgy forms going on. And her eyes will get dark at some point. I think we might learn something about where her magic is coming from. And I am assuming that this indeed has to do with the Otherworld from celtic mythology. Given that Edouard brought this up before, that the "other worlds" in different mythologies might be the same it might tie into that.

Something I keep wondering about: In the games that came up out of Japan, her animals are based on the Four Holy Beasts of the Cardinal Directions, because the game is from Japan. Now, in the show so far they have not been named as Suzaku, Byakko, Genbu and Seiryu. But... Yeah, I do wonder if this is going to come up.

I really do wonder if they will bring in something on Fae through Maria. We never got full confirmation whether fae exist in this world. However, it would make sense.

One way or another: I am fairly certain we will learn more about her magic. That is what I am rather sure about.

Annette

Annette is to me right now the hardest character to place in terms of her character arc. Because here is the thing: She is the one character who in season 1 goes through a pretty complete character arc. She has her wants in the beginning, she realizes her need. Yes, she failed, and I am assuming she will try to find out more about her powers in season 2, but I actually do not think there will be a whole lot of character development beats.

I am assuming that her plot will have two aspects to it in season 2. For one, she has some knowledge about magic that nobody else has, because she comes at it from a different perspective and knows of the Plane of the Ancestors. So, I assume that she will somewhat take the role of a teacher towards Richter.

I also am going to assume that she and Richter will look more into the background of the Egyptian gods. And I would not be surprised that through it she learned more about the real gods in the world. While Egypt is far away from the Yoruba homelands, I do wonder if there is something that overlaps there? I am just assuming that there is a reason that she is part of the "find out about Egypt" team.

Edouard

We do see Edouard in the second trailer for a couple of shots, marching with a night creature army into what seems to be Paris. Now, Edouard is another character who is heavy on the thematic aspect of this show. Especially in his face on the theme of free will. We can gather already, that he will free a couple of other night creatures through his singing. And while we only see shots of him in Paris, I am going to assume that he has some side plot going on before that.

I would argue that there is going to be the topic brought up of how this new night creature machine works. While we never get a full confirmation on how exactly this works in the old show, the fact that FlysEyes is probably from like the 7th or 8th century - or his soul is. So it is probable that for the most part the night creatures in the old show were souls that had hung in "hell" for a while pulled into random bodies.

But we see that Drolta, Edouard, and Jacques are all their own souls back in their own bodies. So the machine Emmanuel got works differently. And I would not be surprised if Edouard and Jacques will look into that at some point.

I am also... something tells me they might get into trouble and Olrox will help them escape? They need to escape after all before they can participate in the finale.

Tera

Okay, here is my prediction: No. Tera is not going to die. Dun dun duuuuun.

From what we see in the trailer, this obviously seems like the likely outcome. Tera is now evil, because she is a vampire, and everyone is going to fight against her, and she will even try to kill her own beloved daughter, so obviously she will die and it will be tragic.

While I am not 100% sure what is going to happen, I am certain she is under some sort of control while at the stone circle, and she will fight Juste there. But Maria will come in there, and she will somehow manage to get through to her mother.

And this is also where the beast-creature will show up. I am not sure how that creature relates to Tera and Maria. But I am certain that the creature showing up has probably to do with Tera's mind control.

While I am sure she is not going to die, I do notice her absence in the second trailer for the clips from that final battle. But I am still fairly certain she does not die.

However, I would not be surprised if Maria at some point thought her dead (and that might be the trigger for the Seiryu sequence?).

Juste Belmont

Okay, I am gonna be spicy with my take here: I almost expect Juste to die. Because for him to die in a heroic sacrifice would make so much sense for his narrative. He is that old generation, who has once failed and now has lost the believe that he could still make a big difference.

I am fairly certain we will get a scene within the first two episodes that go exactly in how he has failed Lydie and Maxim. Some people assume that Maxim might still be alive as a monster, werewolf or vampire. Though some part of me thinks that that is not gonna happen, because it would convolute the plot too much. Again, I am assuming they will try to present us with a season 2 that has something that can work as an ending. So while I could see that the show might leave it a bit open that maybe Maxim shows up eventually, I am guessing there will be no showdown on this in any way.

See, Juste sees himself also responsible for the death of his daughter. And I am assuming that he will be the one snapping Tera out of the control or whatever, to save at least one mother to Richter.

Now, him we see in the final battle. So we know he will at least survive till the big final. But I still cannot help: Yes, there is just the fact that in the trailer we see him under what seems to be a cherry blossom tree, and my anime-brain just cannot help and think: "Oh boy, someone is gonna die, aren't they?"

Olrox and Mizrak

In the new trailer we do finally see the two of them in a couple of scenes. We do know they will probably make up with each other, though I suspect they will not meet up again before episode 4. (I will talk about what I expect the episodes to go like a bit further down.) I am fairly certain that Olrox will be confronted by Drolta and Erszebeth about how he is a double agent, and might have to flee because of it. I am not quite sure about the details, but I am almost certain somehow he is going to be forced to make his decision who he is fighting for. As I said above, I could absolutely see that he might be the one to free the night creatures who are right now kept, but rebellious.

We see Mizrak with the others, and I am assuming he will be working together with Juste and Maria. We see one shot of him back in the Church in Machecoul, so I guess he comes along with Maria and Juste to that place.

We also know he probably tries to join the battle of Drolta and possible some other night creatures against the Blues. And I am guessing that the scene of him and Olrox together takes place after that battle.

Drolta

Okay, everyone who reads my blog knows my thought on Drolta. I knew she was not dead, because her role in the plot was not over. And very sure that in general her role in the story will be to reveal Erszebeth's weakness. She was a priestess of Sekmet, who for some reason decided to team up with Erszebeth. I do not know if we will have Drolta as the kind of colonized, who team up with the colonizer hoping to gain power for themselves, or if she did it in some way with the hope to protect her culture. But I am very sure, that Drolta is who got Erszebeth to drink the blood of Sekmet. And I am fairly certain that we will learn this season how that happened - and that this is the reason that Drolta is still alive.

I can absolutely see Drolta dying afterwards, but... Look, form the very first moment we saw Drolta I was fairly certain, that she is eventually playing a role for the good side eventually. I am not fully sure if she will cross sides (especially as we can see her fighting Annette and Juste in scenes in the trailer that seem to happen during the finale). But I think somehow we will learn about her and her relationship to Erszebeth.

Alucard

Okay, Alucard is also someone who we can now make a lot more predictions on. While we do not see him in the scenes with the Egyptian gallery fight, I am going to assume he is with Annette and Richter at the time - because we see those three together at multiple points in the trailer. Hence my assumption that he is with them. But I still wonder, what is going to happen with this scene where we see him in an Egyptian temple. Because I am 100% certain that is not a historical display, but actually in Egypt. Which is why I do wonder, if this is a flashback or something different.

Erzsebet

Again: I do not expect this to fully end on a cliffhanger. (Powerhouse, do not let me down xD) So I am gonna say: Erzsebeth dies.

That's it. We will learn more about her getting Sekmet's blood and all that. But... I am not going to assume she will be somehow redeemed. And I think she will lose slowly her control over her divine form. That is what I am gonna assume.

You cannot steal culture. You cannot steal gods.

My Prediction for the Episodes

So, whatI am expecting for the episodes so far is the following:

Episodes 1-2: I think these first two episodes will mainly go into establishing the new status quo and involve some info dumps. We will see Drolta come back, and the characters plan out their next moves. They will go to Juste for advice, and then will come up with a plan. Juste, Mizrak and Maria will go back to the church (maybe to free the night creatures?) - and Annette, Richter and Alucard will try to find out more about Sekmet.

Episodes 3-5: Juste, Mizrak, and Maria will deal with something at the church. Again, not quite sure what. There will be a fight. Some scenes with Maria and Juste. Also there will be the fight with Tera (probably later in those episodes) and they will get Tera back onto their side. And we will learn more about Maria's powers. Also they will probably hear about some ambush or something with the Blues which will make Mizrak go and try and warn them, I guess. But he will be to late.

Meanwhile the others try to learn about Sekmet. There will be some opposition. But eventually they will learn SOMETHING. I am assuming that towards the end of these episodes Alucard will travel ahead to Paris.

Episodes 6-8: Everyone is going to bit by bit arrive in Paris. Alucard will help the Blues prepare for the battle. And then the last two episodes will probably be fairly heavy on action. Of course interspliced with enough slower scenes, because action animation costs a lot mroe than dialogues. xD

[femmefaggot]

"you know what happens to little girls who can't play nice don't you? they get punished" okay well if this isnt me then why is it exactly the things said to me taunting rose with shit that is clearly personal now that im thinking about it a video mentioned that but i forgot

edit later: "poor rose she cant believe anyone" "no one loves you and when youre dead no one will care" okayy yeah well

"i came first" "why does she only want you" haha yeah

also the "look at you you're beyond worthless" "seriously what is your problem?" can i show you can i show you

"youre just so greedy" "

can we stop this actually hey. aware its me taunting rose but its also everything ever implanted in the brain cant ask for anything without it being selfish

anyway "i have been such a good girl" both trying to cope and what do you do being trained to kill and or take things over when you follow orders. thats being good. what suddenly when people that wanted autonomy are infected it matters? its bad when the people that try and keep you closest are kept even closer? youre contradictory.

crying on the ground "i cant believe how useless i am. no wonder no one loves me" derisive rose "what now" and then not being able to do anything but lash out. can we. come on.

[bittasol]

smile, iruma! | hey ive been here before

[bunni-v1]

No because he’s soooo Odysseus coded it’s not even funny.

He’s trying his best for so long to do the right thing, stay loyal to the Tsaritsa and try to live by his own moral code as much as possible. Protect the innocent people in his life from his shame, and make his Archon proud simultaneously, but at some point he just can’t anymore.

He can’t hide who he is forever, and he knew that. You would inevitably see him for the monster he’s been since joining the Fatui, he was just hoping it would be on better terms…

Childe had picked an incredibly reckless fight, outnumbered one to a hundred. His men were supposed to come for backup, but in the end they had failed to report, leaving him alone. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t handle it by himself, the rush of being outnumbered was fun for him. He took out his enemy without much physical effort on his part — he was the Tsaritsa’s weapon, of course.

Still, as he stood victorious among unrecognizable bodies on ground so soaked in blood it had become soft beneath his feet, he knew that he should have retreated. He was loosing blood, fast. The entirety of his dress shirt was stained crimson, most of it not his own. He was lightheaded, his limbs screaming at him to lay down, but if he did he knew he likely wouldn’t get back up.

The nearest medical center was too far, he wouldn’t make it unless his brethren managed to stumble upon him. Unlikely. The only option was you.

You lived nearby, close enough that he could walk there. He wouldn’t involve you if he had a choice, but with the way the world was spinning… well, he couldn’t leave you alone in this world either.

He stumbles his way through the bodies, gripping at his side as he makes it to your front door on instinct. It’s all his strength to knock on the door, leaning his weight into the doorframe. He almost thinks you won’t answer — he wouldn’t blame you. It was late and this place was crawling with shady types recently.

Yet, he hears shuffling, and you crack the door open to peer up at him. Surprised delight crosses your face, smiling as you open the door wider. He tries to match it, but fails as your eyes roam over the rest of him. He can see the panic come over you in seconds, ushering him in to your bedroom and making him lay on your perfectly clean sheets. Staining them. Tainting them. Ruining them.

He does his best to ignore the poetic symbolism he would soon echo with your relationship. Instead peeling his clothes off as you patiently work on patching him up. You know somethings off, he can tell in the way you bite your lip, holding back your questions until he’s cared for. Always so considerate of others with your big heart, a heart he was entirely undeserving of.

You wrap the gash in his torso so carefully, cold hands keeping him grounded in reality so he doesn’t pass out on you. You give his food to eat and water to drink, and you wipe the blood from his face like it was any other mess. You won’t ask what happened, but he can feel the question burning in your gaze. Why wouldn’t you want to know?

The least you deserve is an explanation, some kind of tangible reason as to why your sweet little Ajax was covered in more blood than his wounds necessarily implied. The inevitability of crushing one of the last things that let Ajax remain Ajax had come.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, “I’m sure you’re curious what happened?”

His voice is still somehow light, clinging onto the hope that you won’t shun him. Not like his family has, not like his people have. He couldn’t handle it if you did too.

“I’m worried,” You sigh, pressing your fingers to his cheek, “you were… covered, Ajax. How could that have happened?”

A shaky breath, barely preparing himself for the heartache he was about to ensue, “I am not the kind and Gentle Ajax you’ve known since you were seven. I’m… I’ve become someone— something else. I’ve done horrible things, I’ve abandoned my morals in the name of my Archon — And I would do it again and again so long as she asks. Have you not noticed the way people look at me now? The fear in the eyes of our old neighbors and friends?”

You watch him carefully, expression unreadable. His heart pounds in his rib cage a million miles a minute, ready to give out when you reject him. Yet, you take a shaky breath and instead ask, “What kinds of things have you done?”

He bites at his chapped lips like that might save him from reality. He’d fought some of the most treacherous battles in Teyvat, faced off against gods and sovereigns, survived a fall into the abyss… yet this was the most nervous he’d been in his life. Funny how war can numb you to so many horrible things, but manages to leave you vulnerable to petty feelings like love and hate.

“I have killed thousands…” He begins, eyes falling to the floor, “I enjoyed killing thousands. I’m nothing more than a weapon for the Tsaritsa to use, and I’m proud of that fact. I nearly crushed an entire nation on her orders, I have betrayed friends for her sake and I would continue to do so in the name of her goals… I- I’m not the same person, I can’t keep you safe from that anymore.”

There’s a crack in your strong mask, a twitch of some kind of emotion he couldn’t quite distinguish, “You promised me you’d always protect me…”

“I’ve never broken that promise,” He squeezes out, breathless, cradling your face in his hands as habit, “Never. I would never— I made an oath to you. The first oath I’d ever made. I don’t care if I was seven and acting childish, I would never break those, I’ve never broken any promise to you. I will always protect you, don’t you ever doubt that.”

Your face shifts between hurt and anger and sadness, unable to rest among the whirlwind your heart was going through. He just wanted you to scream and push him away, get the torment over with. You don’t, he knows you won’t. It’s not in your nature.

“If you remember that, and you still uphold it, then you are my Ajax,” You say sternly, sending a pang through his chest, “Don’t you ever tell me you are anyone else. I know who you are, no matter what you’ve done, you’re always my Ajax. And I will fall in love with whatever iteration of you that crawls itself to my front door over and over again until you understand that.”

For the first time in years — maybe since he’d fallen into the abyss — he cried. Salty wet tears streaming down his face, ones you kissed away with reverence. Allowing Ajax the opportunity to rest, for the very first time since he’d joined the Fatui.

He presses his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent so deeply. It smelled like home — here in your arms he was home. He wasn’t a harbinger here, he wasn’t a weapon, he was simply Ajax. Your Ajax. He only needed the reminder.

everyone shut the FUCK up. epic the musical 'would you fall in love with me again?' x childe where he's sheltered his spouse / partner from the extent of his violence and abyssal corruption and they find out.